#the moment i caught myself in the ao3 tag i was like ''oh.''

[averlym]

HI I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE INTO ADAMANDI HOLY SHIT. Can’t believe so few people know about this masterpiece of a musical

:OOOOO hai i agree it is criminally (haha yknow bc there are crimes..) underrated!! and really brilliant!!! discovered it literally midway through the week and akdfjgsjhdsjhjgdf

have a doodle of the saints :3

[burntheedges]

caught in the rain

Marcus Pike x gn!reader | gen | ao3 word count: 1.1k

summary: you get caught in the rain with a handsome stranger. a/n: this is for @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge! It's been pouring all day so I couldn't resist posting. tags/warnings: flirting, rain, touching, fluff, no use of y/n, reader has no description, reader walks quickly, not beta-ed

...

Boom.

You were digging through your bag for your map when a thunderclap seemed to shake the air around you. Foolishly, the first thing you did was tilt your head back to take a look.

That was when the skies opened up.

The downpour obligingly hit your face first on its way to drenching you before you could so much as get your bearings.

“Shit,” you cursed as you looked around desperately. The people around you started moving more quickly in whatever direction they were heading and umbrellas started popping up around you. You heard more than one low, irritated grumble in italian. The tall stone buildings to either side of the narrow road you’d been walking down didn’t have much in the way of awnings or overhangs, it seemed. You spun around and looked behind you, and–

There!

Back the way you’d come, about 50 feet behind you, was a recessed doorway. It looked like it was just big enough for one or two people to step into to hide from the rain.

You walked quickly back towards it, dodging around people and umbrellas.You barely looked at them, keeping your eyes locked on your goal.

It wasn’t until you were just a few steps away that you realized someone else had had the same idea, but you were moving too fast to stop.

The two of you stepped under the shelter of the doorway at the exact same time. 

“Oof.” You couldn’t help but make a noise as your shoulders knocked into each other, crowding into the small space.

“Shit,” the other person said, and you finally lifted your gaze to look at his face. You froze, but he frowned softly and continued, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you coming.” His distinctly American voice was deep and warm and extremely apologetic. 

You felt your mouth drop open slightly as you took in the extremely attractive face that was connected to the broad, sturdy shoulders you’d just become acquainted with. He was gorgeous. Dark brown eyes, scruffy beard, hair that curled a bit at the ends from the rain. His regret was painted all over his expressive face, which was just as wet with rain as yours. You watched a raindrop slip down his temple and onto his cheek and blinked. His hand had come up to steady you by the elbow and you belatedly noticed that you could feel its warmth around the soaked sleeve of your coat.

You realized you’d been quiet for too long when his face started to fall. “Oh! I’m– I mean, no, it’s ok.” You felt your cheeks heat at how flustered you sounded. “Er, no problem. We fit. Um, here, I mean.”

He cleared his throat and his frown started to turn into something more like a smile. “Great. I realized the moment it started raining that I’d forgotten my umbrella.” He winced. 

You shrugged. “Me too. Not sure what I was thinking. Probably wasn’t, I was too excited this morning.” You smiled, sheepish.

He smiled, too. It was extremely attractive. You tried not to watch the way his mouth moved when he smiled. “Well, rain buddy, since we’re stuck here for the moment, I should probably introduce myself.” His hand fell away from your elbow as he leaned back into one of the pair of wooden doors and you briefly mourned its loss. “Marcus. Nice to meet you.”

You leaned against the other door and smiled at him again as you introduced yourself.

Marcus eyed you for a moment before leaning in a bit. You tried to look normal about the way you could feel the warmth of his body in the narrow space of the doorway.

“So, what were you so excited about that made you leave your umbrella?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You felt your cheeks heat again and looked out at the rain. “Oh, well, I’m going to the Uffizi today. I’ve been wanting to go for years and today is finally the day, and there are so many things I want to see, so many I’ve been dying to see in person, and I was just–” You cut yourself off abruptly, aware you were starting to ramble. You darted a quick glance back at Marcus to see if he looked bored, but you were surprised to find that he was staring at you, absolutely rapt with interest.

When you didn’t continue, he prompted, eyes locked on yours, “you were just what?”

“Oh! Um,” you started, turning your body slightly towards his. “I was going to say, I was just thinking about all of the pieces I know they have and trying to decide where to start. That’s all.” You weren’t sure how else to explain it without starting to list every piece of art you were excited to see in person.

You watched as a grin took over his face and your breath caught.

“That’s what happened to me, too,” he murmured. 

“What?” You weren’t sure what he meant.

“I was also in a rush, thinking about how excited I am to go to the Uffizi today.” He reached into his back pocket and produced his phone and quickly pulled up his ticket to show you. “Paid extra for the 11am entry.”

Your eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Seriously? I mean, me too! 11am.” You patted your bag where you knew your phone was safe and dry.

Marcus blinked, clearly surprised at the coincidence. “Well, rain buddy, that feels like fate. What do you think about waiting for the rain to clear a bit and then seeing if we make good museum buddies, too?” He winked at you and you grinned.

“I think I’d like that, Marcus.” He reached out to squeeze your elbow again and you wondered if getting caught in the rain might turn out to be something good after all.

…

Two years later, Marcus tugged you along that same street through more rain, hands laced together tightly this time. You were breathless, laughing at his eagerness to get somewhere, smiling as the rain poured down around you.

When he stopped suddenly and pulled you into that exact same doorway where you’d first met, you felt the swell of warm emotions inside of you that you associated with Marcus Pike and grinned.

And just a moment later, when he dropped to one knee and told you how he’d thought you were so beautiful and wonderful and interesting from that very first moment, right there in the doorway, drenched from the rain, and that you’d swept him off his feet with your smile, well. 

You knew exactly what you were going to say, when he asked.

...

tag list (and some Marcus Pike enthusiasts I know): @harriedandharassed @jeewrites @katareyoudrilling @islacharlotte @maggiemayhemnj @fluffygoffpanda @secretelephanttattoo

[ghoulishlygrey]

The New Mrs. Dekarios

Chapter Two

Find chapter one here <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale Dekarios x Fem!reader/Tav

18+ MDNI

Tags: weddings, tailor!astarion, bride!reader, oral sex, cunnilingus, p in v sex, penetrative sex, wedding fluff, praise kink, soft Gale, sorcerer tav

Read it on Ao3

Enjoy!

Words: 5825

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You gave your reflection one more glance, you looked lovely. Your reception outfit was just as graceful and beautiful as your main wedding dress, just a bit more toned down. Plus you had donned more comfortable shoes, all the better to dance in. You had fixed your makeup, as it was running by the time Gale was done with you, so redoing it was a must. There’s a soft rapping at the bathroom door, and you pad over to answer it. 

“Yes?” You ask, opening the door to your husband fully, your entire outfit now on display to him for the first time. His breath hitches and he reaches out a hand to place on your waist. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, thumb rubbing soft circles against you. 

“You look stunning in this,” He continues, leaning in to whisper this next part in your ear, “I can’t wait to see what you look like out of it.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head to capture his lips in a kiss. He returns it, hand on your waist pulling you flush against him and the other comes up to cup your cheek. 

You’re the first to pull away, giving him an amused smile when he gives you a pout. 

“We’re already late.” You scold, tearing yourself away from him and brushing right past him. He immediately falls into step behind you, descending the stairs as you do. “I can’t wait to have you, if it were up to me we’d tell everyone out there to go home so I can have you all to myself.” He says behind you, a serious tone lacing his voice that told you he meant it. 

You turn on the step, catching his eye before continuing. “You’re bad.” You tease, finally reaching the main floor. He just chuckles, reaching out to grab your hand as you make your way to the main door. 

“Kiss for luck?” He asks before your free hand can land on the handle. 

“So greedy,” You fake roll your eyes before angling your head upwards. He meets you halfway, slotting his lips over yours, chaste and sweet. 

“Ready?” You ask, hand finding the handle of the door. 

“Ready.” He confirms, dusting off his jacket.

When you open the door, you are met with thunderous applause. Everyone was in good spirits, some were already drunk, some were picking food from the buffet, some were dancing, and the rest were mingling amongst themselves. 

You were feeling peckish, having not eaten anything all day due to nerves. 

“I’m going to get some food, care to join me?” You turn to Gale, gesturing to the semi-crowded buffet table. 

“Of course.” he says, hand sliding to the small of your back. “Lead the way.”

So you did, weaving in and out of people, constantly getting stopped for hugs and congratulations, not that you minded, of course. In fact, you were so grateful that you had all these people in your life, you’d never felt so loved before. 

Eventually, you made it to the buffet table. You picked up a plate, Gale joined in kind. You fell into a comfortable silence as you both loaded up your plates, only breaking it to fake gag as Gale put something on his plate that you’d never be caught dead eating. That earns a laugh from him, along with a little, “Hush, you.”

“There you two are!” You turn to face the familiar voice. Looking at you with sparkling eyes was Morena Dekarios, Gale’s mother. 

“Morena!” You greet, mind flashing back to when you used to call her “Miss Dekarios,” but she was having absolutely none of it, shooting back with a, “Oh please, call me Morena.” 

You set your loaded plate aside, just in time for when she rushes you. 

She pulls you into a hug, “You look absolutely radiant my dear, positively stunning!” 

You return the hug, taking a moment to breathe in her motherly presence. Ever since you had been introduced, the two of you had been fast friends. You had had countless wine nights with her, just the two of you. You would recount your adventures to Morena who would gasp and throw her hand over her heart at the particularly harrowing stories, and she would tell you about Gale’s childhood and all the shenanigans that he would get up to. One story that you found particularly funny was one that involved Gale’s first experience with firebolt, a story you still tease him about to this day. 

“Thank you,” You reply, leaning back enough to take in her outfit. Like her son, purple was a statement in her closet, you had learned this from your countless meetings with her. Her house was purple, her couch was purple, her walls were purple and tonight, her dress was purple. 

“You look wonderful too, that dress suits you very well.” You continue, taking her hand and encouraging her to do a spin. She does, laughing all the while before saying your name, “You keep me young.”

“You’ll always be young, mother.” Gale chimes in, giving her a peck on the cheek to which she accepts gratefully.

She waves him away playfully with a lively, “Oh stop it, you!” 

“I will not,” He replies, but nonetheless takes a step back from her. He takes your hand idly, a motion so familiar between the two of you it feels natural. 

“So how about that ceremony, aye? Talk about beautiful.” Morena says, eyes following the motion of your hands as they intertwine. She smiles at it before returning her gaze back to your faces. 

“It’s everything I ever could’ve wanted.” Gale says, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“Mmhm,” You nod, smile spreading over your lips just as you think about it. A beautiful wedding at sunset. Now the reception was in full swing, the night illuminated by enchanted fairy lights. Everything was beautiful, everything was perfect. 

“It’s been a dream.” You admit, eyes sliding back from your fantasy and over to Morena. 

“I’m so happy for both of you, truly. I’m elated that Gale found you, my darling.” She cups your face, taking a good look at you before letting go.

“Me too,” Gale says, tossing you a loving look before turning back to his mother. 

“Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. I’m sure you have other guests to see.” She says, retreating her hands back to her sides and away from your face.

“None more important than you, Morena.” You say, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze.

“Oh hush now,” She says, but the blush on her cheeks betrays her. “Go mingle.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You say, picking your plate back up, “Right after I inhale this food.” 

Morena laughs, nodding as she says, “I see you have your priorities straight. I’ll catch you both later, dear.”

“See you later, Morena.” You reply, giving a little wave as she begins to walk away. 

“Goodbye, mother.” Gale adds before turning back to you. “Shall we make our way to our spot  to enjoy our dinner, dearest?” 

“Yes,” You say, turning in the direction of the head table. The setup of the reception was as follows; there were round tables all throughout the space, they were packed with as many chairs that would fit, as to accommodate for the absolute horde of guests that were attending. There was a space off to the right side of the patio saved for dancing, the bards were set up right against this spot for optimal dancing volume. At the top of the space, if you were looking at it from an aerial view, was the long table that sat all those who were a part of the wedding. The two seats in the middle were empty but off to the left sat Shadowheart and Karlach and to the right of the seats sat Wyll and a newly arrived Astarion. 

“Oh, Astarion’s here,” you say, pointing with your fork to where he sat, “we should say ‘hi.’”

“You go ahead, I’ll put our food down at our spots.” He says, hand held out for you to pass over your plate. You do.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit.” You lean up to kiss his cheek before turning away, once again making your way through the bustling crowd to get to the main table. 

“Darling!” Astarion sees you, rising from his seat at the table and coming around to meet you. 

He looks your outfit up and down, nodding approvingly. See, not only did he tailor your wedding dress but he also made the very outfit you were wearing. A little wedding gift from him to you.

“It’s stunning. Well, of course it is. I made it after all.” He laughs at his own joke and takes your hand. 

“So sorry to have missed the ceremony. Although I did hear it was quite something.” 

“It was everything I’d ever dreamed of.” You confirm, folding your freehand over your intertwined ones. 

“I’m so glad.” He smiles at you before looking around, “And where is the groom? I’m surprised he isn’t glued to your side as usual.” 

Even today, he just had to get his digs in where he could. You smiled, it was just so unapologetically him. 

“He’s around here somewhere, he said he’d join us.” You turn your head, scanning the crowd for your favorite wizard. You spot him as he spots you, a blink of recognition hitting his features before beginning to beeline for you. 

“Here he comes,” you point over your shoulder before turning back to face Astarion. He releases you from his grip to return his hands to his hips, presuming a sassy stance to greet Gale as he approaches. 

“Well, look who it is.” Astarion says as Gale takes his place beside you, his hand immediately going to the small of your back. 

“Astarion.” Gale greets, a fake politeness laced his tone.

These two weren’t the fondest of each other. They were civil, yeah, and for that you couldn’t be happier. 

“I was just telling your beautiful bride that I heard the ceremony was a hit.” Astarion says.

“It was,” Gale confirms, “Sorry you couldn’t make it, it was a dream.”

“That’s what your bride said.” Astarion hums thoughtfully, “Well I think that calls for a toast.” 

Astarion steps back toward the long main table, picks up three chalices from the platter at the center and passes them out. He then grabs a bottle from the same platter and reads the label.

“It’ll do.” He uncorks it and signals for both of you to hold out your cups. He fills them halfway before attending to his own.

“To,” He prepares his cup, lifting it slightly, “a lifetime of happiness. May marriage be everything you have ever dreamed of. I for one could not think of a more suitable match.”

He lifts his cup higher and you follow in suit. “To happiness.” You and Gale echo before taking sips from your chalice. The wine was sweet with notes of cherry and vanilla, a delicious red that made your tummy warm. 

“Thank you Astarion, that was kind.” You say, holding your cup close to your body.

“Yes, very kind.” Gale says, hand on your back tracing random shapes.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.” He teases, flashing his fangs at you in a smirk. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, can’t let people know you have the capacity for kindness.” You chuckle.

“I’d be ruined.” He says dramatically, “Well, I’ll let you mingle. Wouldn’t want to keep the star couple all to myself.”

“We’ll catch you later, Astarion.” Gale says, following your lead as you turn away from him.

“I swear, conversations with that vampire always leave me feeling like I just swam in a pool of spiders.” Gale says, when you’re both far enough away. 

“Oh, hush.” You swat his chest lightly, the smile on your lips betraying you. You found their feud amusing, it was childish and immature but nonetheless amusing. 

He led you by your lower back to your seats at the main table, your food from the buffet table was waiting for you and thankfully, it was still warm. Gale pushes in your chair from behind you as you sit, and you flash him an appreciative smile.

“Thank you kind sir.” You say, faking a regal accent and waving your hand like a queen. 

He chuckles and sits beside you, “Anything for you, my darling.” 

You feel a hand on your opposite arm so you turn, only to be met by a smiling Shadowheart, Karlach behind her giving you a similar look. 

“What?” You turn in your chair to face them head on, letting Gale chat with Wyll as you chat with your girls. 

“Why were you late?” Shadowheart asks, side glancing at Karlach who just keeps smiling at you.

You blanche, never have quite perfecting your poker face. 

“I had to fix my makeup.” You say, not necessarily a lie.

“Why did your makeup need to be fixed?” Shadowheart presses, shit-eating grin plastered over her pretty face. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You say defiantly, fully aware that the jig was up, you had been caught. “All I’m saying is that I hope you had fun.” Shadowheart says behind her chalice before taking a sip of the wine. 

“Ohh I bet she had plenty.” Karlach pipes in, volume control still not one of her strong suits. 

“Will you both be quiet?” You say, hands coming up to your face to hide your blush. 

“A good shagging always helps the nerves.” Karlach says, tipping her own chalice towards you.

“So true, Karlach.” Shadowheart says, smirk only growing as her green eyes take in the state of you. 

“If it’s any consultation, I only clocked it because I know you so well. I doubt anyone else, save for Gale, would notice.” She says, her gaze finally sliding away from you and to her plate of food.

“Oh goodie.” You say, stabbing a piece of food on your plate with a fork and plopping it into your mouth.

You take this moment to look around the yard, gaze hopping from person to person. You recognized everyone, of course. Hell, you had saved most of these people’s hides once or twice, their face and gratitude forever burned into your brain. You had a knack for remembering people, especially these last couple months, you had just met so many amazing ones.

Halsin and Jaheira were standing under a tree along the perimeter of the party, you can only guess what they’re talking about. Perhaps Halsin is talking about the Oak Father, Jaheria is probably talking about avenging the fallen. You knew them both well, and loved them dearly. 

Lae’zel was at the buffet table, scaring everyone off just by her presence. She didn’t seem to mind, it just meant there was no competition for the food. Across the way you spot Rolan, Cal and Lia. Rolan is making little fireworks in the air for the children, getting many ‘oooo’s and ‘ahhhh’s. Dammon’s sitting at a table with some of the other tieflings, it’s interesting to see him in something other than the apron you were so accustomed to.

You look over to Gale; he’s deep in conversation with Wyll but yet it’s almost as if he feels you watching, and he turns his head to meet your gaze. He smiles, and you smile back, perfectly content with yourself in that moment. Everything was well, everything was perfect.

He says something to Wyll and turns to you, taking your hand before standing up. “My darling, I think it’s time for our first dance.”

You stand up with him, holding his hand more tightly as he guides you around the table and to the dancefloor. Shadowheart, ever vigilant, notices and signals for everyone to leave the space, that this moment was about you. The bards seem to get the message, ceasing their jolly tune and replacing it with a slow, melodic song, the perfect melody for a slow dance. 

Gale brings you in close, one of your hands goes to his shoulder, the other holds his hand out to the side. His hand snakes around your waist, settling at the small of your back and pulling you closer. The two of you had danced countless nights on your terrace, the sound of the self-playing piano pulling you into a familiar choreography , but now everyone was watching, eyes trained on your figures as you began the familiar steps, feet shuffling in rhythmic timing. He steps back, you step forward, he spins you around, you catch his hand and he pulls you right back. You sway to the music, he presses his face against the side of your head, breathing in your scent. 

“I could say it a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough; you’re radiant, my love.” 

You smile, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. 

“I love you, Gale.”

“I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽｡ﾟ☆. ───

As the night dwindles down, you feel your stomach stirring at what’s to come. 

The last of the drunken guests are meandering out, the bards are packing up their equipment, the moon is high in the sky. Shadowheart, Karlch, and Wyll stay behind to help clean a little, but the bulk of the pick-up would have to wait until the morning. 

You bid your wedding party goodnight and watch them leave before turning to Gale and he wastes no time in capturing your mouth with his. You let out a squeal of surprise, he swallows it down, your tongues clashing as you meld your mouths together. Your hands go around his shoulders, his go to your hips as he pulls you flush against his body. You pull away.

“We should at least go inside first.” you tease, taking his hand and leading him past the main doorway. 

“I can scarcely contain myself when it comes to you.” He says, following close behind you. 

When you shut the door, he is upon you, hands at your hips and mouth kissing along the column of your throat. 

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he makes a descent down your neck.

“Oh Gods.” You sigh, head lolling back to allow him better access. 

It dawns upon you that you’re in your living room, your eyes peek open as you tap Gale on the back. “Gale.”

He just groans in response.

“Gale!” 

He finally pops back up, pupils blown wide in lust. “What, my love?”

“We’re in our living room.” You say, hands sliding from his shoulders and down his chest.

“It would appear so.” He says, looking around, “And?”

You playfully slap his chest, “We can’t do this down here. We have a perfectly good bedroom upstairs.”

He lets you go and sweeps an arm out towards the stairs.

“After you.” He says, giving you a smile.

“How kind.” You say, rolling your eyes in a non-serious manner. 

He chuckles, giving your ass a gentle swat as you walk past him. 

You approach the stairs, looking over your shoulder to find him looking at you intensely, like he was ready to pounce. 

A wicked idea hits you like a lightbulb flipping on. Without breaking eye contact, you reach to the back of your dress, untying your laces carefully. When your corset is loose enough, you shuck it off, leaving it on the steps behind you. You’re left in your undergarments before you take a few more steps up the stairs. You pause again, thumbs going under the waistband of your underwear before you slide those off as well, your bra joins in suit and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches in his chest.

“Careful.” He says, a warning.

“You’ll behave.” You say, a serious but sultry tone lacing your voice. 

As you climb the last of the steps, and can practically feel his eyes traveling over your figure. As you reach the top of the stairwell, you hold out a hand for him, and he takes it tenderly. You walk like that to your bedroom, hand in hand, hearts full of love. 

When you finally reach your bedroom, your hand slides from his and up his arm as he wraps his around you, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. His tongue flicks out against yours as he seeks access into your mouth, pulling you ever closer to him. Your bodies press against each other and you moan as your hardening nipples rub against his suit jacket. You realize then you’re the only one in the nude, an unacceptable reality, as far as you were concerned. You pull back to tug at his jacket. “Off.” You demand, sliding it from his shoulders and it falls to the ground. He helps you with the buttons of the shirt underneath, you working from the bottom up and him working from top down until you meet in the middle and practically tear the thing off of him. Your mouth goes to the orb tattoo on his chest, kissing and licking up his neck as he moans low in his throat, one of his hands coming up to cradle the back of your head, the other has a hold on your hip, holding your pelvis against his firmly. 

Your mouth travels from his neck to his face, meeting his lips in a hungry kiss. Your mouths work against each other, pushing and pulling in a heated dance of passion. You can feel the tent in his pants pressing against your stomach and he moans into your open mouth as it rubs against you. 

“I need you.” He rasps, hands coming up to grope at your breasts, squeezing and kneading in a way that makes you tilt your head back and let out a low, breathless moan.

“You have me,” You say, hands coming up to card through his hair. 

“Now and forever.”

He smiles at you, tenderly, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. 

“I love you.” He says, pressing another kiss to your right temple. 

“I love you too.” You lean up to capture his lips in yours, he returns the kiss, hands traveling down your back, encouraging you to hop up and he catches you, carrying you to the large bed on the right side of the room, hands planted firmly on your ass.

He sets you down on the mattress, only breaking the kiss to undo his trousers, all whilst looking at you hungrily. He finally, finally, tugs his trousers down, letting his cock spring free. It was fully erect, angry with a bead of pre-cum trailing from the tip down the shaft. 

You spread open for him, putting your pussy on full display and he groans, drinking in the sight of you, all of you. 

He sinks to his knees in front of the mattress and in front of you, eyes traveling your body at this new angle. His gaze inevitably lands on your cunt, already glistening with your juices at just the thought of what he’d do to you, just how far he’d take you tonight, how many times he’d bring you over the edge. Because knowing Gale, it’d be at least thrice.

He kisses the inner parts of your thighs, wrapping his arms around your legs to keep them spread open as he makes a beeline towards your center with kisses and licks. 

You sigh blissfully at the feeling, hand reaching down to tangle in his swept back hair. He takes this as the go-ahead to take it further, placing a bold, wide stripe against your folds, earning a wanton moan from your position on the mattress. 

He continues licking at your center, angling his tongue and reaching deep into your hole. It was bliss, pure bliss as his actions caused the knot in your belly to tighten, threatening to snap with the pure love and adoration he was showering you with. 

He turns his attention towards your clit and you can feel your resolve disappearing around you, leaving you a moaning mess splayed over the sheets. He wraps his lips around the bundle of nerves and gently sucks, earning him a breathy gasp from you. 

You can feel your cheeks turn bright red as he sinks a finger into you, pumping in and out slowly, making sure to earn each and every moan and noise from your pretty lips. Soon, he adds another finger, stretching your hole deliciously all whilst continuing his in and out motions.

It doesn’t take long for the knot in your belly to snap completely, sending you over the edge with an orgasm that has you seeing stars and chanting Gale’s name like a prayer.

“I’m right here my love,” He says, rising to his feet and taking your hand, his beard coated in your slick, “Don’t you dare get tired yet, for we have only just begun.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You say, finally able to see clearly again.

“Good.” He climbs on top of you, supporting his weight on his elbows either side of your head.

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss again, tongue meeting yours as you open for him, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel his cock against your stomach, fully erect and just begging to be touched. So you do, snaking your hand down your torso until you can grab it, gently stroking from base to tip. The friction causes Gale to gasp into your mouth, hands clenching the sheets from their positions next to your face.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” he grunts, eyes darting between your hand and your face.

“I think I have an inkling.” You say, finger swirling his tip as you spread the precum around the head. 

“I need to be inside you.” He rasps, planting kisses to your cheek, your temple, anywhere he could reach. 

You use your legs to tug him closer, pressing your lips to the side of his neck and sucking, leaving a mark . 

“So what are you waiting for?” You whisper in his ear, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders, preparing yourself.

He doesn’t answer, he just smiles at you before looking down to align himself with your entrance. Slowly, gently, he pushes himself into you, causing you to gasp as your dripping cunt swallows him up, inch by inch.

“Gods, you’re wet.” He grunts, nipping at your neck and sliding a hand up your stomach, stopping at your right breast to squeeze firmly. 

“All because of you.” You breathe, hands gripping his shoulders for dear life as he slowly begins to rock into you, hips moving at an agonizingly sluggish pace as he warms you up.

It doesn't take long for him to pick up speed, nearly pulling out of you completely before pushing back in, each time earning little noises from your lips. He felt divine, every ridge and edge of his cock dragged across your velvety walls in a way that made you want to scream his name. “Gale!” You moan as he slams into you for the first time, forgoing his gentle nature in the effort to bring you pleasure, all while chasing his own. “Yes! Faster!”

He does as you command, slamming into you relentlessly and all you can do is hold onto him for dear life. Every thrust has him grunting obscenities into your ear, dirty little sentences that leave a dusting of pink over your cheeks and neck, and have you gasping for air.

“So p-pretty, taking my cock like- ngh- such a good girl.” he grunts through gritted teeth, freehand finding your jaw and anglining it to look up at him gently.

“Please- look at me..” Your eyes flutter open to gaze upon his face and fulfill his request; you meet his eyes as they stare down at you, watching your every move, your every expression. And then he goes to kiss you, a kiss that is all clacking teeth and mashing tongues as he continues his pace, steadily bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your next orgasm. 

Soon enough you’re at that edge, toppling dangerously atop it, ready to fall at any second. Gale is close too, you can tell by how his grunts have evolved into a near whine, can tell by how his hips have started sputtering and losing rhythm. 

“Oh, my love- I-I’m close.” He manages to get out, the hand on your jaw moving to cup your cheek instead. 

“Me too,” You breathe out, your own hands raking down his back, nails leaving pink streaks as they descend. 

With a few more erratic thrusts, you’re there, crying out as your orgasm takes hold of you, leaving you a shaking mess under Gale, who is thrusting you through it.

“Where do you want me to-?” He starts, looking rather frantic.

“Inside!” You gasp out, hands going to his ass to keep him firmly planted inside you. Soon enough he’s cumming inside you, shooting his warm seed across your womb and filling you thoroughly. The sounds he makes during this process are downright lewd and you love it, relishing in your joint pleasure. 

He collapses next to you, pulling you into his side. You rest your head on your chest, the sound of you both trying to catch your breath fills the space, he snakes an arm around your waist from under you, hand drawing random shapes on your hip.

“You’re so amazing. Perfect, even.” He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple. The two of you were still connected, you could feel him softening inside you as you laid there, steadily rising and falling with his chest.

“I love you.” You say, eyes traveling from the interior of the candle lit room to his face; he meets your gaze, freehand coming up to take your chin between his fingers and guide you down for a kiss. 

The kiss starts out slow, gentle, melding your lips together in languid movements as he moves you to straddle him, allowing you to lean over to have access to his lips. Eventually the kiss evolves into something else, something hungry as your tongue swipes at the seam of his lips, seeking access to the cavern of his mouth. He allows it, parting his lips open for you meeting you halfway with his own tongue. 

In another moment you can feel him growing stiff inside you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

“Already?” You ask, barely breaking the kiss before diving back in.

“Mmm.” Is his only response, seemingly at a loss for words, a once in a lifetime event for Gale; he always had something to say.

You sit up, and he chases your mouth, coming up along with you. He holds you delicately, arms holding your hips as you begin to move in circles before up and down. 

“Ah-!” Gale grunts as you sink down on his sensitive cock before lifting back up just to do it over again.

Your thighs were burning, abs screaming with the effort it took to ride him like this, but it just felt so good, and every little noise you elicited from his lips just spurred you on more, determined to have him whining your name by the time you were done with him.

He pulls you tight in a hug, arms coming to wrap around you as you move in his lap, your arms return in kind, hands finding each other behind his back. He starts to move with you, hips chasing yours with every languid movement. His hips snap up to meet yours, earning a breathy moan from you and a strained grunt from him.

“S-so perfect, my perfect- ah!- girl..!” he barely manages to get out, the pleasure of your movements nearly rendering him speechless. You were in the same boat, moaning and writhing from the sheer overwhelming feeling of him filling you repeatedly. 

You’re approaching your edge again, teetering before completely letting you go, allowing you to fall once again into the pits of an orgasm, this one more intense than the ones before as it sends you collapsing into the arms of your lover. He supports you, holding you up as he thrusts you through the waves of your pleasure.

“That’s it… I’ve got you.” You feel the whisper in your ear before you register what he’s saying; your head was swimming with the aftermath of your orgasm, making it difficult to comprehend anything at the moment.

But you do, and it makes you pull him even closer, holding on for dear life as he fucks his way to his own completion. 

He finishes with a grunt, emptying his seed into your aching cunt, sensitive from all the overstimulation. You whine at the sensation, the warmth of his finish, the ache in your legs and stomach, you were thoroughly spent. 

You roll off him, fetching the sheets and pulling them over your panting bodies. 

You look over to him, the feeling of his cum dripping out of you was apparent and, if you were being honest, uncomfortable.

“My love,” You grab his attention, he looks over at you, eyes blown wide and still very obviously coming down from his high.

“Nevermind, I’ll get it.” you say, shucking off the sheets before attempting to stand. But he catches your arm and pulls you back onto the mattress.

“Oh, no you don’t,” He says, rolling on top of you and trapping you with his arms.

“What is it that I can do for you?” He peers down at you, using a finger to trace the apex of your nose. 

You smile at him, chuckling slightly.

“I was going to get a rag to, y’know, clean up.”

“Ah.” He says, getting off of you and coming to his feet. He goes to the water basin near your vanity, wetting a rag before returning and handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You smile at him before cleaning the mess between your legs. 

“Anything you want. You need only ask.” He says, opening his arms in an invitation to lay with him. You take it, snuggling up to his side as he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, one hand wraps around you to rest on your hip; the other takes your own hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Thank you.” He says, pressing his lips into your hair.

“For what?” You ask, turning your head from its position on his chest to look at his face, he is already peering down at you.

“For being my wife.” He says sincerely. 

“It’s my pleasure.” You reply, beaming up at him. 

He just smiles at you and after a moment says,

“The new Mrs. Dekarios… I quite like the sounds of that.” 

You smile and hum. You quite liked the sound of that too. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tag list (comment if you'd like to be on it!):

@sprite-real

[concreteburialplot]

Cool About It // 01

01 - Breaking & Entering

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 6.3k

summary; Noah runs into an old friend while visiting his hometown for the holidays. Noah convinces Amelia to meet him on the playground they grew up on to catch up. Reminiscing leads them to a midnight adventure that reminds them all too much of the past.

warnings; alcohol consumption, breaking & entering? stealing? kinda?, hallmark-y, nostalgic, talks of family trauma, cops (acab!), vaguely sad & distraught Noah, uses 'Sebastian' as his last name, 18+ MDNI

disclaimer; welcome to my new short series! reminder that this is hallmark-y bc i began writing it in December lol i decided to challenge myself w this fic in multiple ways, one of the biggest ones was writing it in 3rd person vs my comfy world of 1st or 2nd person. I’ve never written in 3rd person so, if it’s not my best, i apologize, i’m sure it will improve lol

a/n: this is au and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

It had been quite a busy morning, and Amelia was slowly making her way through the longest line she’d had in a while. She finished heating up a cinnamon roll and snapped a lid on what felt like the 75th peppermint mocha she’d made that day.

“Thanks.” Mumbled the distracted patron and stepped off to the side to grab extra napkins.

“Next.” She said while shuffling dollar bills into the clangy register, then looked up motioning to the last customer. Her hazel eyes landed on a man covered in tattoos pre-occupied on his phone. “Next!” Her call was louder than before and this time edged with impatient annoyance.

A familiar pair of dark brown eyes snapped up at her, his gaze more startled than angry.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together and as if on cue, the register dinged closed in time with her realization.

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Noah?”

The soft velvet of her voice yanked each edge of Noah’s mouth into a wide toothy smile. “Scout?” He asked in the same caught-off-guard tone. His voice was much deeper than she remembered, and he seemed taller, if that was even possible.

She chuckled at the fact that he used his old nickname for her and felt a tinge of warmth bloom on her cheeks. The ends of her pink lips curled up into an adorably genuine smile. “What are you doing here?” She pressed her palms flat against the cold counter leaning forward and letting soft chocolate curls spill over her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, I’m here with Nicholas.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the town. “He’s here visiting his family, I just tagged along.”

Tagged along.

She should’ve known, of course Noah would be down here with Nick’s family for Christmas. Where else would he be?

“Oh,” She smiled tenderly at his words and nodded. “Of course.”

Every now and then she’d run into Nicholas whenever he came back to town or ran into his parents while out and about, but it was never anything of significance. Whenever it was Nicholas, she wanted more than anything to inquire about Noah or the band but always kept the interactions short, sweet and reserved. The last thing she wanted was to come off as wanting to “catch up” after they gained a larger audience for clout.

He grinned back at her and there was a quiet moment shared between them, as if they both didn’t know what to say. The feeling in the air swung from having nothing to say to having so many words that it was overwhelming to speak.

The gentle moment was broken by the bell dinging above the door as a new customer walked in.

Her first impulse was to make his usual but stopped herself. “Oh um, whatcha want?” She asked, realizing that his tastes had probably changed since he was 16.

“Just a vanilla cold brew is fine, thank you.” He said with a tight-lipped smile, feeling awkward that she was serving him.

She went ahead and filled his cup with the dark amber liquid. “Do you want a snickerdoodle cookie? They’re freshly baked.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Yes please, they’re my favorite.”

She remembered.

Of course, she did.

How could one forget staying up til 2 am at Nick’s house baking cookies and having Top Chef-level trials trying to achieve the perfect spice mixture for what Noah called, “The Most Snick-of-Doodles that could ever Doodle.”

“You got it.” She smiled placing some pastries into a brown paper bag before handing it to him. “I threw in a cinnamon roll for Nicholas, I made sure to give him the one with the most icing.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.” He chuckled gently taking the bag along with his drink. “We should um, catch up soon?”

“Sure.” She pressed her lips together to keep her grin from growing too wide.

Cold fallen leaves crunched beneath Amelia’s feet as she navigated through a park that she hadn’t stepped foot on in a good ten years. A cool chill made her tug her thick knit cardigan tight around her thin frame.

“Noah?” She delicately whisper-yelled into the darkness, the meet-up destination barely lit by the full ivory moon. She should’ve known that Noah wouldn’t be content with catching up at a restaurant or at her house or anywhere normal.

“Scout!” He replied from the swings a bit to her left. A chuckle left his lips, and he quickly clicked the flashlight on his phone, waving it in the air like a search light.

A deep shade of embarrassment coated her pale cheeks, “There’s no streetlights over here!” She walked over and lightly smacked his arm. “It’s dangerous you know.” The weight of her body creaked the metal frame when she fell into the blue swing seat.

“Or you’re just getting old and need glasses.” He teased with a slight slur riding the end of his words.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She responded with a playful glare.

She looked over at him thinking how funny it was seeing him so large and full grown in such a tiny, low swing. It looked extremely disproportionate and goofy, like a Great Dane in a shopping cart.

He handed her a bottle of cheap red wine, half drank already.

“Oh, got started without me huh?” She sassed before stealing the bottle from his fingers. “Couldn’t have done beer?” She tips the glass bottle until bitter, dry alcohol infiltrates every tastebud, reminding her why she’d switched to martinis or seltzers in her later years.

He waved her off with a tsk, “Too much hassle. Wine was easier. And you took fuckin’ forever!”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully, it wasn’t like she was all that upset over the wine over beer, just that he drank so much of it already. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips once more taking another hefty swig and handed it back to him. “Where’s Nick?”

“Ah,” He swiped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “You know, family stuff.” He wiped the back of hand across his mouth. “I can only handle – so much of it.” His hands motion off his words. “They mean well I just… can’t do too much of it at once.”

Growing up with parents that were as dismissive and absent, then gone all at once like his, knowing how to “family” was odd and foreign to him. As Noah got older, he began to realize that basic family etiquette was a trait he fundamentally lacked, as if he played hooky on some Family 101 course in his formative years. It wasn’t something he inherently prioritized and, at least when he was younger, it would irritate him when friends or colleagues put family above things that he deemed more important, like band related obligations. He never had to deal with family of his own, put it on his schedule or allot energy for it. He simply didn’t understand it.

Sure, he came off as rude at times, leaving friend’s family events early or mentally checking out mid-day. It wasn’t his fault that it was exhausting and overstimulating for him. To him it seemed natural, as if everyone felt that way, something akin to the universal experience of trying to escape school or work. It never crossed his mind that people might actually enjoy their families, nor could he comprehend the necessity for it.

It depended on who, what and when but for the most part it was exhausting to him. Some groups were better than others, like Nick’s family. Over the years they’d housed him for weeks at a time, months even sometimes. As far as Noah was concerned, the Ruffilo’s were his family. He always came and went as he pleased, always an open-door policy to the Ruffilo refuge. But that didn’t exclude Nick’s family from his unintended ignorance and tendency to run. He just could only take so much at once. Lucky for him, they never seemed to mind his behavior much. They never batted an eye; they understood him for who he was and why. Their house was one of the only places he felt comfortable, one of the only places he ever called home.

“I know.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the thick swing chains. “I remember.”

“Right.” He replies solemnly, taking another sip before swapping it back.

Vivid memories filled Amelia’s brain of 14-year-old Noah tapping on her window like a freshly escaped felon looking for asylum. The heavy, panicked breathing and glassy eyes never matched the mischievous grin plastered across his face. Holidays were the worst; she recalls keeping her window unlocked during the winter months, so he’d always have an alternative escape. The Ruffilo’s were a festive bunch that took any excuse to celebrate. Naturally, Nicholas also only possessed so much adolescent tolerance to endure so many familial festivities so, he too would sneak away with Noah at times but, for the most part it was just him and Amelia celebrating holidays together on her bedroom floor.  

The air was still between them while she took a couple sips of sanguine liquid trying to catch up to him.

“So, you’re a big ol’ rockstar now huh?” The girl smiled, nudging him with her elbow trying to lighten the mood. Even though the words are positive and light, they tasted so sad on her tongue.

He laughed, something she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. She nearly forgot what it sounded like, but it hadn’t changed really, just a little deeper now. His now tattooed hands grasped both metal swing chains and leaned back a little, using the tension to suspend his body while he observed the stars above them. “Not big. Just opening for some real bands now. Finally able to headline our own little tour soon. Fuckin’ took long enough.” He dismissed the compliment immediately, snuffing it into the ground like a shriveled-up cigarette butt.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his response. He might’ve not seen it as notable accomplishments, but she knew better than to place the validity of success in the hands of someone riddled with imposter syndrome.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool.” She leaned against the chain closest to the long-haired boy.

His lips pulled to a smile while his eyes stayed focused on the sky. “Thanks.”

She followed his gaze and chuckled, “Sky’s pretty interesting huh?” She teased.

“It is when you barely get to see stars. I never really get to see them in LA. Sometimes I forget they’re even up there.” He replied sadly before sitting back up.

Amelia took another sip of the almost empty bottle, starting to feel the warmth of alcohol spread through her body. Something about the stars and Noah made a memory cross her mind that made her burst out into a cackle. “Do you remember when you put SO much work into your astronomy project for the science fair and fucking Nicholas won with his fucking-”

“Moldy bread!” They said loudly in unison before erupting into booming laughter.

“God I was so pissed.” Noah shook his head, “And then I had to eat his fucking moldy bread.”

“Oh yeah because you lost the bet! I forgot all about that!” Laughter filled her ribcage in a way it hadn’t in years, and it felt really fucking good.

“I was so fucking sure I’d win! I should’ve known, Nick has always been the golden boy. Teacher’s-pet swindling ass.” He kicked the sand just as he would’ve at 8 years old. It’s funny how people’s mannerisms don’t really change all that much as they age. Being there with him on their old playground felt like being in a time machine. “Worst food poisoning I ever had.”

“Didn’t you borrow the telescope you used from Nick too?” She questioned, wondering if she just made that part up in her head.

“Yeah, yeah I think I did actually.” His brows furrowed as he dug through his memories. “You know what? It’s probably still in their garage!”

“Really? Maybe you can find it tomorrow.” She poured the rest of the wine into her mouth, savoring the cheap bitterness of it pooling on her tongue.

“But the stars are so pretty tonight!” He whined in classic Noah fashion.

“Yeah so? What are you gonna do? Break into their garage?” She chuckled jokingly.

He straightened up and looked over at her with wide eyes like a lightbulb just lit above his head - a look she remembered all too well.

“No.” She warned, just like she would’ve back then at whatever scheme Noah concocted in his devious little brain.

He gave her a familiar mischievous toothy grin before pushing harshly off the swing.

“No, no, no.” She sighed as he already left his seat swinging and made his way towards the street.

“Noah!” She called after him. When he showed no sign of stopping, she let out a long sigh, questioning how she ended up having to stop a 6’4 man from breaking into houses in the middle of the night. She pushed off the swing, leaving it clanging and swaying behind her.

“Noah I’m not br-“ Her yell dulled down to a hush when she caught up to him. “I’m not breaking into the Ruffilo house at midnight!” Her words were stern but to Noah they just sounded like a child’s warning against curse words.

“We’re not breaking in ‘melia.” He didn’t match her whisper, his voice was loud and proud for anyone in the night to hear. “I remember the garage code.” He announced with drunken pride.

She scoffed, “And what if someone hears the garage, Noah? Then what?”

He shrugged, “Nick is staying there, we’ll just say we were trying to see him or something. You know I have free reign there anyway.”

“This is a really shitty plan, Noah.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a displeased frown.

“It’s a great plan.” He stated confidently, walking in long strides that she could barely keep up with. “You know all my plans are great.”

“Hmm.” She hummed skeptically. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s true.”

Walking down the street with Noah to Nick’s family home in the dead of the night felt so… familiar, as if she was walking in the same exact footsteps as 15-year-old Amelia had, like her memories were tangible in her hands again. She tightened her fists slightly to remind herself that the past was not solid in her hands again. She wasn’t 15 again on some spontaneous, teenage adventure – but the alcohol-fueled adrenaline prickling at her fingertips begged to differ.

Even past midnight, the small neighborhood’s Christmas lights shined bright. Normally, she’d find them obnoxious, but tonight they seemed much sweeter, only adding to the nostalgia.

“Oh no? All of my plans worked out one way or another.” He defended as if it was factual with a straightened back and pointed finger. “All but one.”

Her brows knitted tightly together at his words, because in her memory, there was a good chunk of her life spent stuck in detention because of his schemes.

“And which one would that be?” She sassed back, watching as his speed picked up even more after her question.

“Not important.” He waved the brunette off, “C’mon, we’re here.”

Unexpectedly, his hand slips around her wrist, and it wraps tingly electricity up her arm then across her entire body. All at once the butterflies that used to be so perpetually embedded in her stomach returned in a rampant flurry. Her gaze slowly snapped up to meet his face. His smile hadn’t changed in the near 10 years apart and neither did the bright glint in his espresso eyes. Time seemed to slow around them for that split second where the electricity sizzled beneath both their fingertips and their eyes found each other’s just as easily as they used to. In that brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of rail thin, tattooless teenage Noah.

“I know they got a Ring doorbell, so we gotta hide between the cars.” He whispered and ducked them both down as he weaved her through the vehicles in the driveway.

“I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this Noah!” She whisper-yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to properly reprimand him.

“Sh!”

They finally found themselves in front of the garage keypad conveniently out of view of the doorbell camera. Noah blinked blankly at plastic number pad without moving. His inked fingers tapped on his own crossed arm while his tongue stayed lodged between his lips in thought.

“Well? Go ahead! Get it over with.” She insisted, motioning urgently to the garage wanting it to be over as fast as possible. She tucked her hands across her body and into her sides giving her some semblance of comfort. The last thing she wanted was for their childish midnight antics to wake up the entire house.

“Hey! Give me time.” He rushed back, lifting a finger in her direction to shush her.

“Time? I thought you said you remembered it!”

“I do! …I think… if they haven’t changed it.” His tone much less confident than before.

“Noah!”

“Hush!” He pressed a finger to his lips at her and took a hesitant step towards the keypad. With a couple semi-sure clicks, the garage door slid open slowly. Amelia exhaled in relief at how the metal clangs of the garage were much quieter than she remembered. Still though, they creaked too loud for her liking, feeling embarrassment and anxiety flood her body.

“Yes!” Noah squeezed his fists up in victory. “See, told you I remembered.”

“Lucky guess.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

Her eyes widened as the garage door unveiled a gorgeous white car. It was by no means a luxury car, not a Lexus or anything of the sort, but a high enough model to make you look twice. “Damn Mama Ruffilo, ridin’ in style now.”

Noah grinned as he scoots around the car. His smile was reserved, like she had discovered some award he was keeping hidden out of modesty. “Yeah, that’s the one we got her for Mother’s Day.”

“We?” She questioned, her head cocking to the side a bit.

“Yeah, Nick and me. We each paid half.”

“Oh wow, that’s really nice of you.” She replied softly. It didn’t take a genius to calculate just how much it would cost two broke DIY touring bandmates to pay for a new car, even in halves. The vehicle was shiny and spotless, evidently well taken care of – the type of care you’d put into a possession you never thought you’d own, the type of care that came from deep gratitude.

“It’s the least I could do for ya know… everything she’s done for me.”

Amelia nodded knowing exactly what he meant. It was no secret that he was more than a family friend to them, but it was nice to see that he recognized it too. While Noah might not have attended every family event or stayed for long, he showed his love and appreciation in his own small ways. Gifts were one of his favorite ways of doing so. Yeah, Noah might’ve only stayed at a Thanksgiving for an hour or two for food, but he was there long enough to make mental notes for next year, to bring extra cranberry sauce because Nick’s abuela loves it or extra croutons since Nick’s mom tends to snack on them while she cooks. He paid attention and he loved deeply, even if it didn’t seem that way on the surface.

He rustled around some miscellaneous garage junk in the corner, making more noise than Amelia felt comfortable with. She stood up on her tip toes to watch carefully him over the pristine car with her heart beating in her chest begging to rush him again.

“Ah! I knew it’d be here!” He said a little too loud out of excitement and promptly covered his mouth. His wide brown eyes met hers in a silent ‘oops, shit, sorry!’ plea.

In desperate need to escape the anxiety inducing mission, Amelia ran to the end of the driveway the second she saw the telescope in Noah’s hand. It took him longer than it should’ve just to snatch the item, but she didn’t question it or investigate much when he sped right past her after the garage began squeaking closed.

They made it out in record time, holding in their laughter until they reached the end of the street. It only took one look at each other to send them into a cackling fit. Amelia’s delicate hands found his thin arm and used him for stability, while the laughter shook her entire frame.

When they make it back to the park, he set down the telescope and unravels something she somehow didn’t notice he was carrying before.

“Did you steal that from their garage?!”

He grinned and proudly pulled another bottle of wine, white this time, from the blanket he also borrowed. “Yeah? And I’ll just replace them when I bring the telescope back tomorrow.” He carefully sat the wine down at her feet and spread out the buffalo-print blanket over the grass.

“You are so bad!” She chuckled, smacking him playfully with the excess of her long cardigan sleeve.

“Isn’t that what girls want? A bad boy?” He smirked jokingly, getting down on his knees to angle the telescope just right so that they didn’t need to stand up to use it.

She pressed her lips together as she watched him. Sure, that’s what some girls want, but not her. Even when he was landing them in detention every other day and keeping them out way past curfew – even when everyone else considered him a “bad boy” – she knew he wasn’t, not really.

Even now, whenever he got on stage, covered in ink, growling like a demon – she knew he wasn’t, and has never been, “bad”. Not the way she knew him. Amelia had a talent for seeing through people and she always saw right through Noah, from the first time she ever saw him in the back of her 3rd grade class. And all through adolescence, she saw him clearly through all his stormy confliction and thick brick walls.

Noah never saw it of course; how could he believe that someone as sugary sweet as Amelia could possibly ever see him as anything more than comical the social mask he wore with friends. In fact, he would even go as far to believe his mask was thickest and most opaque around her. Whether or not that was factual, didn’t lessen her ability to see him, really see him.

Being told you’re so wrong for so long, makes you believe that no one could ever see you as right. No matter how many friends Noah had at his parties, or fans in his crowds or girls in his bed, he never felt as though anyone saw him as enough. He got so exhausted from constantly trying to outdo himself that sometimes he forgot what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

Amelia never once believed the “bad influence, bad boy” propaganda their parents or teachers ever accused him of. To her, he was just Noah; the weird emo kid in the back of her classes, the neighbor down the street, the other older “brother” of the youngest girl scout in her troop. Amelia knew Noah at his core.

“Ah, bad boys are overrated.” She waved off his words casually.

He turned and gave her an unconvinced look, “Yeah, sure.” he glared playfully before sitting back on his legs. “Well, it’s ready if you wanna look.”

Amelia crawled across the blanket to meet him and peered through the telescope. Billions of tiny stars flooded the glass lens with twinkles and glimmers you’d never be able to see normally. Fluffy white clouds interrupted the view every so often, but it didn’t take away from the breathtaking scene.

“Whoa.” She mouthed quietly, just taking in the sight. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Noah agreed quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them while he watched her.

They took some turns looking out of the telescope and passing the wine bottle back and forth before finally resting side by side on the picnic fabric. The air around them both was full of dwindling laughter over Noah telling silly stories about him and Nicholas and their roommates in LA. At surface level, he seemed to be doing well, despite claiming to hate LA, he appeared to be thriving there. Perhaps it was just the roommates that he enjoyed living with. Noah was never one to enjoy solitude, at least not for long periods of time. When he lived in their hometown, he was rarely wherever he was staying at the time. Getting comfortable anywhere was never his goal or motive. For the most part, it seemed like he enjoyed the constant change, the running. However, the way he talked about their home in California, all the stories he shared that brought the grandest smile to his face or the loudest boom from his chest all took place at their home. Amelia wondered what it must feel like for him to be back in their dreary little town, and if he rattled off all those stories was because he was homesick.

As the space between them flooded with a silence that was equally comfortable and uncomfortable, a question bubbled up that had been eating at Amelia from the moment she laid eyes on the tired darkness hanging beneath Noah’s eyes. His grin for most of the night was wide and toothy but she knew him better than that.

“So,” She turned her head towards him. “How are you, really?”

His eyes stayed transfixed on the stars above and he let a dense quiet settle over them before speaking.

“It must get so exhausting.” He stated, ignoring her question all together.

Her brows furrowed at his words, “What does?”

“Being so bright all the time.” He stated flatly, with a low dejected tone lacing his words.

“The stars?” She questioned with her brows still knitted.

“Sure. The Moon, the cosmos, all of it.” He brought his hands to interlace over his tummy. “Sure, the moon gets a break during the day and gets to disappear for a bit every month. And the stars get to die eventually.

“Right…?”

“But a star’s entire existence is to be bright - they only exist to be bright and then die. The moon works every night to serve as a giant nightlight and to shift some waves around. It must be so exhausting, all of it – being so bright all the time just to burn out into nothing.”

Noah had always been good at avoiding both his feelings and Amelia’s prying questions. It seemed age and time hadn’t changed that specific skill set. Maybe it’s true what they say, people never really change. It worried her that he might’ve not changed at all in that way.

“I mean,” She shifted her head to face the stars again trying to find the answers in the same place he was getting the questions. “You’re not wrong… but, think about the good that they do. The moon does so much on its own for us, you know the tides, the earth’s axis and all that. But we wouldn’t even be here staring at the sky without it all. They’re pretty and,” She shrugs. “And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough.”

“Right.” He responded curtly, pausing a long while before speaking again. “If the moon had consciousness… do you think it would care that most people know it for being pretty and not for being good at its job?” He pondered, not once looking over at the girl, perhaps afraid that his façade would crumble, and he’d spill the truth if he met her eyes.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together once more as she processed his words, doing mental gymnastics to decipher the underlying meaning. Another skill set Noah possessed was being dramatically cryptic, especially when it came to his internal turmoil. Whenever he had some battle waging within him, he suddenly transformed into a makeshift philosopher.

Looking the way he does, it’s fair to assume that his band had garnered recent attention due to his looks – most men would revel in the fleeting female attention, but not Noah. At least not enough to keep him from being contemplative on the lawn of their old park.

Girls or not, Noah had always been particular about his craft. He was lucky he found Nicholas first since he really let Noah take reigns of the entire operation. Like a true perfectionist, Noah carefully curated every song, every show, every rehearsal – even back when they were just playing in Nick’s garage with shitty amps.

Amelia analyzed his words, thinking over her response carefully. “I think the moon would be grateful for the attention either way.” She commented gently. “As long as she’s doing the job she’s meant to do, her beauty getting noticed is just a bonus. As long as she’s doing what she’s destined to do, I think she’d be content doing whatever she needs to, regardless of the affection towards her.”

“Yeah, I guess she would.”

Looking up at the sky, Amelia noticed just how round the moon was that night and how perfectly it was centered in the sky. It looked like the inside of a circus tent, like the star littered sky was just a patterned fabric pierced right in the middle by a giant moon-shaped hole. It felt like it too – as if they were the only ones in some carnival tent far away from anything bad. Below such a vast cosmos, they were just tiny specs of dust in the universe, and she was grateful for the temporary solitude. After years of not even being around Noah, he still made her feel the same. He had a knack for dissolving any real-life problems when they were alone together. When she was with him, she was in a world of their own making. She wondered if she did the same for him, and for his sake, she really hoped she did.

But alas, the bubble they created together that night was not one that could exist forever, and the big top tent must come down after a grand show.

Amelia and Noah ran out of words, at least ones meant to be said that night. They laid side by side with her right hand and his left not even a centimeter apart.

Noah was unaware of whether it was fear, nerves or sadness that fueled the drumming beneath his brittle ribs, but that same force also tugged an invisible string to lift his pinky.

Amelia’s eyes rounded and every muscle in her body tensed up the millisecond she felt him move up and hover over her own pinky.

But before he got the chance to lock over her finger, there was a frightening rustling behind some playground equipment followed by a bright light aimed right at them, blinding the pair.

“Hey! You kids aren’t allowed in here!” Boomed a deep, authoritative voice.

Amelia propped herself up on an elbow and immediately used her arm as a shield to keep the blinding light from burning her retinas any further.

Noah closed his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was one of the many familiar sounds from the town Noah hoped to never hear again.

“Sebastian? What an unpleasant surprise.” The voice taunted with a vicious edge.

“Officer Hawke.” The eyeroll was thick in Noah’s voice. “So great to see you.”

The big burly man shifted the flashlight beam to Noah directly. “Not shocking that the first time I see you back in town you’re up to no good.” He moved the light back to Amelia’s face. “Also, not shocking that you’ve reunited with your old partner in crime. Corrupting Miss. Alastor again, are we?”

“Officer, we just fell asleep earlier, we didn’t mean to be here so late.” Amelia lied for Noah like she always had. Her and Nick had been the goodie-two-shoes that were always bailing or covering for the long-haired boy. Well, Amelia was truly good, Nick was just skilled at masking his deviant tendencies, using his sweet golden-boy allure to fool everyone. As much as she hated breaking the rules, she secretly loved when Noah enabled it. Her teenage years wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or memorable without the two mischievous boys. Even just lying in the park with Noah after dark made her feel the most alive she’d had in years. It was exhilarating, no matter how much she reprimanded the boy for his reckless rebellion.

“Mhm. Sounds about right, you covering for Mr. Sebastian here, for god knows why.” He speculated, unconvinced. “It’s like I stepped back in time. It seems you both haven’t changed much.”

While the cop had been berating the two, Noah had already began packing up the picnic trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

“Sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” She lied.

“Sure.” He retorted. “Get you and your boyfriend out of here. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

With that he turned and headed back to his vehicle. It was surprising that he just left the pair– not surprising that he just sat and watched them from the comfort of his cop car across the street.

Amelia helped Noah pack everything up before they made their escape from the park. Shortly after they were down the street, the cop car finally drove off. She walked in the direction of her house, thinking that Noah would part ways to maybe head towards Nick’s house to return the stolen items or to Vince’s where he was staying for the time being, but he stayed walking alongside her. He was quiet, which for Noah was strange, especially with her.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home? I know you’re staying in the opposite direction.” She said, stuffing her cold hands in her pockets.

“I want to. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” He replied flatly, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk concrete.

Her house wasn’t particularly far from the other two’s, nothing in the tiny town was necessarily far from each other. With a town as small as theirs, a night walk home wouldn’t usually be considered dangerous.

“Well, thanks.” She replied cautiously.

She let her mind wander to the interaction they had at the park with Officer Hawke. Noah’s mood had been fairly consistent all night up until then. She mentally scolded herself for not realizing that running into the overly familiar cop would affect his demeanor. Maybe she just assumed that after so many years into adulthood he’d be over it, but evidently, it was foolish and incredibly mindless for her to believe so.

The rest of the walk was silent, just filled with the sounds of nature in the winter. The crisp cool air zipping with the wind, crashing into every solid object available while owls coo-ed into the darkness.

Finally, they arrived at the chain-link gate of Amelia’s small home. She rested her arm atop the pointy wires of the fence. Any other night she’d probably invite him in, but it was so late and all of the night’s events had already been enough to overfill her tummy with static-y nerves.

“Well, I-“ They fumble over each other’s words. Warmth blooms across Amelia’s cheeks at the joint misstep.

“You go.” She urged.

“No, you go.” He pushed back with a sheepish grin.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and dropped her attention down to her feet. “I was just gonna say that this was… nice.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you again Noah.” Her tone soft and genuine, as her eyes meet his again.

He was unprepared for how her eyes looked with the moonlight shining directly into them. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked into them so clearly. He forgot how different they were from each other, well, they weren’t really – but they were when one spent looking at them as intently as Noah had since he was 8 years old. Her eyes were both a hazel but one much more brown while the other had a pretty emerald hue.

“Yeah, it was really nice.” His words sounded true, but his voice was still strained by the sadness from the walk there. “I’m really happy I went into the shop this morning.”

Her lips worked overtime to keep from pulling into a giant grin and suddenly she was grateful for the darkness hiding the red staining her cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”

Noah sucked in a breath to speak but pauses, before returning again, “Um - Nick’s family is throwing their annual Christmas party this weekend, I’m sure he and the Ruffilo clan would love to see you.” He stated with his words moving slightly faster than normal almost like he was nervous to even ask, which is silly isn’t it? Being anxious to invite an old friend to a holiday party you both attended every year growing up? It shouldn’t be that nerve wreaking, right? He scratched the back of his neck. “If you want that is.”

Her eyes nearly light up enough to cut through the darkness. “Yeah,” She beamed a sweet smile up at him.  “I think I’d really like that.”

taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86

[comment to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; thank you so much for reading - again this is my first time writing in 3rd person so i hope it was decent! i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao - lmk what you think! 💗

[simping-overload]

ꜱᴏᴍᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ

notes: I revive myself with a Frederick fic. I've been itching to put out. Might be ooc blame it on the drugs. I'm messing around with my writing style, so pardon any inconsistencies <3

This work is part of a series of mine based on the "Being Alive" song in the musical company. The 2006 one specifically with Raúl Esparza!!

tags: post s2, ansgt, frederick cries, cuddles, not in an official relationship, but they act like they are. Gn reader no pronouns or gender mentioned.

synopsis: You haven't been able to see Frederick for weeks—not after Miriam Las pointed the finger to him being the Chesapeake Riper. Which was bull. When the tension died down, you finally managed to slip past and pay the shrink and visit.

Ao3 link // 1,846 words

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

The last few weeks have been the most boring moments of your life, being drowned in paperwork and not having your lovely shrink friend to pick on and bother.

When you finally managed to get caught up on your paperwork, you took the rest of the day off, claiming you were feeling under the weather.

You were actually picking up some things for Frederick, an expensive box of chocolate truffles, a few books filled with boring psychology studies, and a change of clothes. You remember the last time he was in the hospital, he whined constantly about how the gown ichtes his skin.

When you walked into the hospital, it was quiet, not another soul to be seen aside from the staff. Which was great since you won't have to worry about anyone snitching on you.

You approach the desk, setting your bags on the floor to let your arms relax.

"Hi, I'm here to see Frederick Chilton. I'm a friend of his." You tell the receptionist who eyes you up in down before typing away at their keyboard.

"Sorry, but he's not accepting any visitors."

This makes you frown. How badly did the feds interrogate him to make him close off his visitation.

"Can you just call and tell him that (Y/N) is here? He'll want to see me." You lean against your fist, giving them a pleading look.

They relent, dialing the number to Fredericks room. A few momments later and exchanging a few words, they hang up the phone.

"Well, you're all set. He's in room 3V, all the way down the hall and make two rights he'll be on the left."

You smile, grabbing your bags and leaving with a thank you

You knock on the door thrice, opening it once you hear a muffled 'come in'.

Frederick lays on his side, facing sway from the door and clutching a pillow to his chest.

You shut the door with a soft click, setting the bags on the most uncomfortable looking chairs you've seen before walking over to the side of his bed.

"Hey Freds." You say softly, crouching down to his level so he wouldn't have to move. You lean against the bed with your hands folded.

He looks like shit, but better than you'd thought he'd be, giving you a slight relief. You know the injuries could've turned out much worse.

His hair is grown out, more than he'd usually allow himself. You brush the hair back and out of his face.

Frederick sighs at your familiar and comfortable touch. "What are you doing here? I figured Jack forbade you from visiting."

You chuckle, gently dragging your nails across his scalp, "Oh he did. Even had someone tail me for the first few weeks to make sure I didn't see you. Then he proceeded to drown me in paperwork as if that'd stop me." Jack always did underestimate your determination.

Frederick smirks, proud at your defiance. "Then I assume Hannibal didn't manage to manipulate you into thinking I'm the riper, hm?"

"Obviously. How the hell would someone on a low meat and sodium diet be cannibal. Plus, you're already crippled—" Frederick face twitches when you called him crippled. "—with the cane. It just doesn't make sense." You huff, no one in the FBI has critical thinking skills anymore.

Frederick sighs in relief. He knew you were smart, but with how much of a master manipulator Hannibal is, he was worried he'd get you to turn on him, too.

"Good…" He trails off, eyes drifting to the bags. His face lits up seeing a very familiar chocolate company logo, Lindt Lindor.

His eyes snap back up to you, "Give me those truffles." He demands.

You chuckle, "Nuh uh, I got to make sure with your doctor that you can eat them. How about we get you changed instead?" You pat Fredericks good cheek, enjoying how cute he looks when he pouts. Stepping away, you go to grab the clothing.

"You have some audacity to tempt me. I swear once I'm recovered, I'm going to skin you alive."

"We both know you wouldn't cause you wouldn't have anyone else to get you your limited edition truffles."

You take the clothing out of the bag. It was a pair of silk PJs, the only kinds he'd wear, a few pairs of boxers and socks.

You place the clothes on the edge of the hospital bed, "I know how much you hate hospital gowns, so I got you stuff to change into. I can help you change into these, or can you do it yourself."

"I'm a grown man. I change myself. I'll call you back once I'm done, now shoo." He waves you off, using the nearby remote to move the bed into a sitting position. He painfully groans when he pushes himself off the bed, even though he is only shot in the face, the pain manged to spread, reaching his entire body.

He doesn't change until you step outside. He moves his legs to hang over the side of the bed, shimming the hospital issued gown and boxers off.

He grabs the pair of boxers, slipping them off before doing the same with the socks. He doesn't trust himself to try to stand on his own since he was bedridden for the last week.

He tugged the pants on, enjoying the way the silk felt against his skin. He ties the strings into a nice bow before grabbing the shirt.

He slips it on, minding the wires attached to his arm. He looks down to button it. He sees the scar on his abdomen. He lets out a shakey breath when his fingers graze over it. The memories of that night come rushing back like a tidial wave.

He quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind and finshes buttoning that shirt. He folds his old clothing and leaves it neatly placed at the edge of the bed.

"You can come in now."

When you enter, you aren't alone. His assigned doctor and her protogee follow in suit. he glances at the clock - 12:00 P.M. - the time for his midday check-up.

"Dr. Prescott, Dr. Harring. Hello." He gives them a tight-lipped smile. He wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone other than you at the moment.

"Mr. Chilton, we're just here for your routine checkup. Since you seem to have company, we'll make sure to be quick. Now, Dr. Harring." She pushes the younger doctor forward, letting him take the lead on the check-up as she rights down notes.

It was quick, simple, and uncomfortable. Whenever Dr. Harring touches his face he cringes in pain, and slight disgust at his oily hands.

After a bit, the doctor finally pulls away from him, "Looks like everything is good! You're recovering quite well, Mr. Chilton. You'll be outta here in no time!"

Frederick fakes a smile. He knows he's stuck here. He won't be let out until the trial or until the charges are dropped.

Dr. Prescott ushers the other out of the room, and before she leaves, she looks back at Frederick, "And yes, you can eat those truffles but only 3. I don't want to risk it getting stuck in there." She says before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Frederick gives you a knowing look when he glances between the back and you. You head over to the bag, digging through to find his favorites. Dark Chocolate Raspberry. He loves these concerning amount, even has a jar filled with them in his office. No one is allowed to touch, not even you.

He takes (snatches) them out of your hand, moaning in delight as he pops one in his mouth, enjoying the flavor on his tongue.

His thoughts begin to drift off as he thinks about his situation. He doesn't know what he's going to do with himself. Prison will be hell on earth for him, especially since he's crippled.

His reputation itself will be destroyed. He'd lose all his assets, his so-called friends, and whatever family he has left that actually still cares about him. By the time he gets out, he will have nothing. He won't have you.

The one person who sticks around him not just for his money or to raise their status. You're someone who actually likes him, sticking with him even with his asshole snob behavior that would have most people leaving without a second thought.

You actually listened to him, talked to him, and respected him. Even when he tried to push you away, you always came back. He doesn't want to lose you.

You notice Frederick drifting off, getting lost in his thoughts. His eyes downcasted with a far-off look. Bringing your hand to his chin, you lift his head back

"Hey… Are you okay?" You rub your finger on the underside of his chin, trying to get him to focus on you.

He owlishly blinks at you, coming back to reality he pulls away from your hand, leaning back against the bed.

"I'm fine." He huffs, popping another chocolate in his mouth.

You squint at him. You've known him for long enough to tell when he's lying.

"No, you're not. Scoot over." You slip your shoes off before slipping under the covers next to him.

You reach over, grabbing the bed remote to make the bed lay flat.

"What are you doing." He questions, scooting over reluctantly.

"We are going to cuddle and talk about our feelings. You know I hate when you hide things that bother you." You wrap your arms around him, pulling him to lay comfortably on your chest as you run your hands through his hair.

He huffs against you but doesn't say anything. Silently enjoying the way your hands feel, melting into your touch.

"I'm serious, Frederick. Tell me what's wrong."

This makes Frederick sigh. He doesn't ever like talking about his issues.

"If I get convicted, I'm done for. I lose everything I have." I'll lose you, he wants to say, but those words die in his throat. He buries his face into your shirt and sucks in a breath. He can feel tears stinging his one good eye. He hated crying.

"Not everything. I'm still here. I will always be here." You reassure him, and his body shakes as he begins to sob.

You rub his back, trying to soothe him, "C'mere baby." Pulling him up more, you take his scared face into your hand, wiping his tears away.

"I'll stick with you through everything. I'll get you a lawyer and a P.I., I'm not going to let them convict you." It's a promise that you're willing to take to the grave.

He doesn't respond and just cries harder. You rest his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soothing kisses to his temple as he cries himself to sleep.

You press a kiss to his temple, none of this was fair and you were going to be damn sure he gets the justice he deserves.

[wannab-urs]

Appropriate Reactions

Summary: Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.

WC: 1.6k

Content/Warnings: Butt stuff :) oh and just like... warning for the way Ezra talks. Excessive use of lines from the movie.

I am excited to present the next installment of the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign 2023. My dear friends @atinylittlepain (who made the graphic!), @beskarandblasters, @serenaxpedro, @jksprincess10, @cutesyscreenname and I are all writing a series of pegging fics for you lovely freaks. And we all have at least one out already! We'll be posting a masterlist next week, but for now, you can find them under the tag #peg that middle aged man campaign 2023.

Thanks to @str84pedro for the edit/commentary <3

Ezra Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

The Green is a terrifying place to mine for Aurelac, being one of the rougher and less regulated prospecting destinations. As such, you don’t make a habit of talking to strangers here. Get in, get the shit, get out. That’s how you’ve always done it. 

This time is different though. This time you found a man sitting on a log, helmet-covered head pressed into his hands. You tried to retreat quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. It’s never a good idea to get caught out here alone. People got desperate. 

Before you could safely make it back into the cover of the forest, the man looked up and locked eyes with you. You pulled your thrower on him, taking several steps back. The man threw his hands in the air and said, “Easy there, stranger. I do not intend to cause you any harm.” 

He spoke with an odd cadence, some fringe-planet accent coloring his dialogue. It was oddly disarming, causing you to drop your weapon a tad. 

“And why would I believe you?” 

“I happen to be without a ship and therefore have no reason to dispossess you of your trophy case,” the man shot back, hands still above his head. 

This shocked you, as being without a ship on The Green pretty much guaranteed you were not long for this world. His air filter would give out sooner or later and the dust would choke him to death. You may be tough, maybe even cold, but you’re not evil. You couldn’t leave him there. 

You holstered your thrower and took a few steps toward the man. “I can give you a lift, but I won’t do it for free. What can you offer me?” 

The man had slowly lowered his hands to gesture at himself. “Your offer is indeed generous, and I would be more than happy to sign and seal save for one glaring slip… I have naught to my name but this suit and my body.”

You considered him for a moment. It was a little hard to get a good look under the bubble of his helmet, but from what you could see, he was handsome. He had dark hair and golden skin. A mustache framed his plush lips and a scruffy beard covered his jaw. His nose was prominent and curved, which you’ve always liked on a man. Fuck it, he’s hot. “Your body will do.”

He had shrugged and stood up, striding over to shake your hand. “Name’s Ezra.” 

On the walk back to your ship, you’d introduced yourself and asked for the story of how he came to be without a ship on this gods forsaken moon. It was a sorry tale and made you more than a little wary about his motivations, but he was so damn charming you couldn’t help but trust him. 

Now, sitting in the captain’s chair of your ship and taking in the sight of Ezra out of his suit, you’re glad you decided to trust him. The man is gorgeous, sitting sprawled out against the wall. He’s all broad shoulders and thick thighs wrapped in a black and tan flight suit. His close cropped hair has a little blonde patch at the front and his eyes are a deep chocolate brown. 

“Would I be too forward in asking how you intend to proceed, little bird?” Ezra drawls. 

“Not at all. How experienced are you, exactly?” You doubt very much that he’s a blushing virgin, based on looks and age alone. 

“I myself have frequently indulged, and I have not often found regret,” he throws a wink at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. He knows he’s hot, damn him. But you intend to throw him for a loop. 

“I’m not sure you’ve indulged in this particular technique… If you want a ride on my ship, you’ll have to let me take you, pretty boy,” you stare him down, smugness settling into your features as you take in his shocked expression.

 “I… um. I have not had that particular pleasure… you do not appear to have an apparatus with which to accomplish the task at hand.” He gestures at you, clearly wondering if you’re hiding a dick under your flight suit. 

“I’m full of surprises.” You stand and make your way to a small wardrobe by your bed, digging around in your stash to find what you’re looking for. You shut the door, triumphantly holding your strap out for Ezra. 

The harness is made from a similar material to your flight suit. Already slotted into the ring is a long flesh colored phallus made from a soft but firm material mined on your home planet. 

“Now this is somethin’ I have never seen… in all my time in The Green.” Ezra looks fascinated by your contraption, not a hint of nervousness in his big brown eyes. 

“So what’ll it be, Ez? Deal or no deal?”  

---

Ezra is truly beautiful. His golden skin shimmers with sweat as you pump two fingers in and out of him, lightly stroking his pretty cock. He’s laid back on your bed, thighs spread to accommodate you, a pillow under his hips to grant you easier access. “Feel good, babe?” 

“Kinda nice… tingly,” Ezra chokes out, throwing his head back onto the bed dramatically. He’s extremely vocal, talking himself through the new sensation and whimpering when you curl your fingers into the sensitive spot inside him. 

You lower your head and gently suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, skimming your lips over the smooth skin and taking in the earthy taste of his precum. Ezra whines and jerks his hips, trying to push himself deeper in your mouth, but you follow the motion. You just know his begging will be glorious and you’re determined to draw it out of him. 

You dip your tongue into his slit at the same time you add a finger inside him. Ezra’s whole body goes taut for a moment, his head snapping up off the bed, before he relaxes into your touch. “You’re so responsive, Ez. Good boy.” 

“I greatly… appreciate the compliment… little bird.” Ezra grits through his teeth. “I would also greatly…” he breaks off with a moan as you press the pads of your fingers into his prostate again. “... appreciate getting… a move on.” 

You decide you’ve teased him enough for now, sitting back on your heels and slicking up your fake cock. You grip the backs of Ezra’s thighs and push his legs toward his chest, admiring the way he’s so pliant for you. You settle the tip against his hole and push in just a bit. “Good?”

“No harm done yet,” Ezra says breathlessly. You rub your hands up and down his thighs soothingly and push in slowly. Ezra sucks in a breath and blows it out quickly a few times and you giggle at him. 

“Ezra, sweetheart, you alright?” 

He shifts his hips, seating himself fully on your toy with a slightly pained groan. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me, little bird. I will not shatter.” 

You take this as your cue to fuck him stupid. You wonder if you can render him speechless. Leaning forward slightly and readjusting your grip on his thighs, you pull out of him and thrust back in to the hilt twice. 

“Slow… slow down a beat there, little bird.” Ezra’s hands flutter over his own chest and up into his hair, like he doesn’t know where to settle them. 

You slowly circle your hips, rubbing against the spot inside him you know will get him back on board. Ezra tugs at his own hair and babbles a string of praise at the sensation. “There ya go baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head and slot your thighs under his. You thrust slowly in and out of him, drawing a circle with your hips each time. His body chases your movements like he doesn’t want you to pull away at all, hands sliding up around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“Fuck, little bird, you are a miracle.” He gazes up at you in awe, as if you just told him you know where the Queen’s Lair is and you’re going to take him there. His lips part and his head digs into the sheets as he arches his hips up to you. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his length and begin stroking him in time with your thrusts. 

“Are you going to come for me, pretty boy?” You whisper before sucking his earlobe into your mouth. He whimpers and arches further into your body, hips shifting to meet every thrust.

“Please! Don’t stop birdie, I’m near- nearing my rel- release.” You stifle a giggle at his phrasing and speed up your hand on his cock. You feel his body jerking beneath you and pull back to watch his face as he cums. 

His eyes are shut tight, brow pinched in the middle, and little moans and whimpers fall from his parted lips. You lean forward and suck his plush bottom lip between your teeth, grazing it lightly before kissing him fully. 

You feel the hot spurts of his cum cover your fingers as he breaks the kiss, throwing his head back and groaning deep and loud. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your back, pulling you down on top of him. 

He lays there, panting into your shoulder for a minute before he turns his head and whispers in your ear. 

“Actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

----

[midgardian-witch]

Meeting Jake

Reader meets Jake for the first time when he picks them up from work unannounced. Friendly flirting and some awkwardness ensues. Reader gets into Jake's pants but not how you'd expect.

AO3 [MASTERLIST]

tags: first meeting | meet-cute | platonic relationship | friendship | flirting | awkwardness | teasing | eventual friends to lovers | gn!reader

ships: Jake Lockley/Reader

Disclaimer: I do not have DID so my description of it is based on the show and my own research.

tagged list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[You]: Weather is hell. Still stuck at work. I'll text you when I'm on my way <3

You didn't think much of it when you sent the text to your friends Marc and Layla. Well, you thought you'd send a quick text so they don't worry and wait for you but you didn't expect much of a reaction other than maybe a text back telling you to stay safe. 

When you finally escape work you get caught in the worst rainfall you'd experienced in a while. Standing just outside of your workplace you're fighting against your umbrella, one of the cheap ones, but it refuses to open. Your workplace wasn't too far away from Marc and Layla's flat and you did promise to visit them for dinner today. And yet the thought of arriving at their doorstep soaked to the bone makes you grimace. As you're groaning and cursing quietly, a cab stops right in front of you. You ignore it, thinking maybe one of your colleagues had the foresight to call a cab in this weather. 

You hear a car window being pulled down but what really catches your attention in that moment is a familiar sounding voice. 

"I think that umbrella is broken."

You raise an eyebrow, looking up, ready to give, what you assume is a stranger, a look for stating the obvious. The face looking at you makes you do a double take instead. 

You see Marc, a cabbie hat pulled over his face, leaving just enough space for you to see his eyes peek out under it as he leans out of the car window. It takes you a bit before you notice the different accent; the way he dresses and holds himself being another sharp contrast to Marc and Steven. 

You stand there dumbfounded, blinking like he had caught you in his head lights. He takes in your response and chuckles. 

"I'd introduce myself but I think we should do that in the car. Hop in."

Your body launches into motion thanks to the promise of someplace dry. You quickly walk around the car and get inside. Buckling your seatbelt in, you take in your surroundings for a moment before you place your definitely broken umbrella on your lap. 

You turn towards Not-Marc-and-also-not-Steven and reach out, offering a handshake as you introduce yourself. 

As he takes your hand you notice the well-worn leather gloves he wears. The leather feels smooth against your skin. 

"Pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Jake. Jake Lockley."

You smile and take him in. He is smirking at you and oh you've never seen that look on that face before. Ignoring the warm fluttering in your stomach you finally let go of his hand just a few seconds late of being appropriate. 

"Pleasure to meet you too, Jake. Not that I don't appreciate getting to know you but", you look at him, at who is essentially a stranger in a familiar body, and can't help but feel the same comfort and safety you feel with Marc and Steven, "Why are you here?" 

Jake raises an eyebrow at you, his face a perfect depiction of disbelief. "You texted us, cariño. Did you really think we'd let you walk in this weather?" 

Oh. 

You're not sure if it's his words or the car's heating that suddenly make you feel so warm. It's a small gesture but knowing that you're on their mind, that they care for you like this, fills your heart with joy. 

You thank him, your smile growing wider. He returns the smile, his more triumphant and cocky, and turns back to the road. 

"Shall we then? We wouldn't want to keep Layla waiting. If I hadn't already been getting my keys as soon as we got your message she may have jumped on her bike herself to get you.", he tells you with a wink. 

You can't stop the startled laugh that escapes you. You can see all too clearly in your mind's eye how that would have played out. That now familiar warmth spreads through your body even further knowing that Layla thought of you too. Enough so to drive through the rain on her bike to make sure you were safe. 

You feel the car move as Jake starts driving you to their home. "I reminded her that unlike her bike, my car would actually keep you from being completely drenched by the time you got here," he continues. 

You lean back in your seat and admire the man next to you. Just like your first meeting with Steven you're overcome with this strange feeling of dissonance. On one hand you're looking at a familiar face, a familiar person and yet on the other hand there is a stranger sitting next to you, driving you calmly to your destination. Without being able to pinpoint why, you know you're safe with Jake even if you don't know much about him yet. The way his hands glide over the steering wheel, the way his head moves as he keeps an eye on traffic; he just seems so at ease. And yet you can see the corner of his mouth curled into that devilish little grin he gave you earlier. If you had to describe Jake in one word it would be 'playful'. 

"See something you like, cariño?" 

His voice pulls you out of your musings and you realize he must have felt you staring at him. You clear your throat in embarrassment. 

"Sorry, it's just…", you trail off, unsure of how to explain why you were drilling holes into his head with your eyes. 

The sound of Jake's laughter fills the car. With his unwavering grin he glances at you before turning in gaze back towards the road. 

"I get it. It must be strange for you. At least I got to know what you're like before today."

You blink at him confused and tilt your head to the side. "Did the others talk about me?" you ask, wondering what insights Marc, Layla and Steven had given Jake before he decided it was finally time that you met him in person too. 

Jake hums thoughtfully. "Eh, that's not quite what I meant," he answers a little sheepishly, "When you talked to Marc in the past there was always a chance that one of us was, let's say, 'listening in'."

Marc had explained to you once how he and his alters communicated and that sometimes more than one alter could be present. You just didn't think much of it at the time. Now you are wondering what Jake or even Steven had seen of you without you being aware of it. And here you were agonizing over making a good first impression all while they already got to know you in a way. It made you feel self-conscious. 

Your silence drags out longer than you mean to, caught up in what-ifs and maybes. 

"No need to worry, cariño. We give each other privacy when needed," Jake explains with a wink before his grin fades and his face turns serious. Just from that you know he's not making fun of you or diminishing your worries, but takes them seriously, without you even having to voice them. It's a bit eerie how easily he can read you and yet his regard for your well-being comforts you. You don't know how but just Jake's presence seems to put you at ease. 

You nod quietly before you remember he may not see it while still focusing on the road ahead. "Thank you, Jake. I guess I am just curious about what you and Steven have seen of me before.", you admit. Jake hums thoughtfully at your words and for a while the only thing you hear is the sound of rain pelting against the car as you wait for his answer. 

"Does it matter?" 

You blink owlishly at him, the question taking you by surprise. He turns to you for a moment, as you're waiting at a traffic light. "Think of it like this: whatever we saw of you made us decide to meet you. We saw this amazing person that has stolen the hearts of both our brother and our wife and we wanted to meet them too."

Your breath catches in your throat and you try your best to avoid his gaze. Suddenly you feel his gloved hand against your cheek as he turns your head to look at him again. There is a smile on his face, not the devilishly handsome grin from before but a soft curve of his lips. 

"Believe me, the few glimpses I have seen of you through Marc's eyes can't compare to finally meeting you myself."

The flirtatious sound of Jake's voice makes your heart beat faster. It feels like time has stopped, your body frozen, completely enthralled by the man sitting next to you. 

Both of you are startled back to reality by the incessant honking of a car horn behind you. 

Jake turns back to the road, ignoring the angry car horns and continues driving. The spell he had over you is broken and you can finally breathe again. 

The rest of your ride is spent in comfortable silence. You arrive at your destination faster than you expected and you're more than a little impressed by how effortlessly Jake handled the rush-hour traffic. 

Jake parks his car close to their apartment building and steps out quickly. As you take off your seatbelt the car door on your side opens. You see Jake stand in front of the door, his leather jacket held over his head as a makeshift canopy. He steps back a bit, holding his jacket over you as you get out of the car to keep you dry while Jake himself seems unbothered by the rain soaking through his clothes. 

You thank him again before the two of you make your way to the apartment building. As you stand in front of the building's entrance you wait for Jake to unlock the door but he keeps his arms up over you, jacket held tight, shielding you from the weather. 

"The keys are in my left pocket. Could you get them for me?", he raises an eyebrow and looks between you and his clearly occupied hands and then looks down at himself. It takes a second before your brain catches on what Jake is asking you to do. He's keeping you safe from the rain so he can't get his keys. His keys which are in his pocket. Which you would have to reach into. His pants pocket. Oh dear. 

You nod quickly, hoping your train of thought is not clearly visible on your face, and carefully stretch your hand out, very aware of how awkward this situation is or could be - at least to you. You didn't imagine you'd get this close to Jake when you got into his car not even half an hour ago. You try not to think about how close your hand is to certain parts of his anatomy as you reach into his left pocket. Quickly you pull his keys out and hold them up triumphantly. Immediately you turn around, avoiding his gaze and open the door so you both could get inside and out of the worsening weather. 

You feel a bit embarrassed by your own reaction. You just got his keys because he couldn't use his hands! It's not like you touched anything you weren't supposed to! You didn't even feel anything that you shouldn't! And yet the previous innocent flirting between the two of you seemed to have dragged your mind into the gutter. 

As you make your way to the elevator, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, you meet his gaze again. With his wet leather jacket draped over his forearm he looks at you, an amused grin on his face. He knows. Jake doesn't say a word but he's clearly aware of the situation he had put you in, and thoroughly enjoys your flustered reaction. And to your surprise you can't even be mad at him for it. 

That charming bastard. 

You stick your tongue out at him for his teasing and Jake laughs as you step into the elevator. 

"You are adorable, cariño. I should pick you up from work more often," he winks at you as he says it, lips still curved into that flirtatious smile of his that makes your heart race. 

The elevator goes up and you're getting closer and closer to their floor. You can't help but enjoy Jake's teasing, light-hearted as it is. Even though his friendly flirting may be the death of you one day. And yet you were looking forward to it. Your friendship was going to be interesting.

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexTav Enemies to Lovers Part 24

Summary: Gale and Tav are childhood rivals who find their paths crossed once more to defeat the absolute. Fluff and angst content ahead, mutual pining, some tragic timing ahead. Mature content ahead, Enjoy! Gale's POV Word Count: 7.7K

Master List | Read on Ao3 | Part 23

Every night after dinner and after a majority of their companions dwindled to their bedrolls, Gale and Tav would slip away. They would never wander far, just past the small waterfalls- and would lie within a small, rocky entrance obscured by the undulating waters. 

The roar drowned out their voices, filtered them away from where the nestling warriors slept. Gale wasn’t quite sure why they felt the need to creep away into the night, but there was something thrilling about it all. 

His heart thrummed with trepidation and anticipation, endlessly sifting how he would tell her. These moments were built for it, and yet his words caught in his throat every time he tried to reveal the truth to her. The more days that passed, the worse the gnawing in his throat grew. As insatiable as the orb itself. 

What often stopped him was a look or a caress. Once it was because she let out a cross between a sigh and a yawn that made a pitiful squeak that made his heart flutter. Another time it was because her leg was finding a bit… too much friction between his thighs. 

Often they would lie their, tracing mindless patterns across one another’s clothed bodies or faces, he would caress her hair as they lay in blissful silence. The other night she animatedly shared a story from their youth that made Gale’s desperation for her infinitely deeper. 

He had asked her, after he shared a foolish story of his youth, for her to return the favor to lessen his embarrassment. Although, he wasn’t embarrassed telling her the story - but he found self-deprecation useful in moments of vulnerability. 

“Oh, well… before gym, me and my friends would play this game we made up… Howling Cleric.” 

Gale cocked a brow and a grin curled his lip, “Howling Cleric?” He felt his stomach lurch as her cheeks flushed and eyes danced in the moonlit waters light. 

“A game where one of us would cover our face with our shirt and cry out like a ghost to tag each other.” 

Gale had broken out into such a fit of laughter that tears pricked his eyes and she pouted in jest. He had pulled her into his lap, pressing his face into her neck. He brushed the skin away to kiss across her shoulder. Apart from light, relatively innocuous kisses he hadn’t allowed himself to go farther with her. Not yet. “I do apologize.. that’s just the most absurd game I’ve ever heard of, how did you come up with such a thing?” He planted his lips where her ear met her neck, “I love getting these glimpses into that abstract mind of yours…” 

He had intended to tell her after the fit of laughter subsided that night but when she began to sigh heavily and press her hips against his lap as he brushed his lips across her supple skin… his mind was still having trouble recovering from such moments, especially as there was no relief just pent up need that grew by the day. 

Tonight, when her head was nestled in his chest, he was prepared to tell her everything. Unfortunately for Gale, the day had been difficult - they barely managed to escape with their lives after a disagreeable run in with a Thorm. Tav was in a fowl mood that radiated off of her worse than cloud kill. 

Tav did not seek him out that night and when Gale approached her tent she poked her head out and held up a hand, “I love our time together,” Gale’s stomach dropped and he felt heat creep up his neck, “and tonight I need to be by myself - I need to blow off steam.” 

“I can certainly help with that,” Gale said, though immediately regretted his choice of words. He had promised himself he wouldn’t, not until he told her what he had done - not until he could show her pleasures of mortal flesh and more. Panic rose in his gullet, the acid tearing his esophagus until he saw her shake her head. 

Despite his panic there was still disappointment that flooded him alongside the instant relief of her refusal. He was gripped with a sense of unworthiness, at her declining his advances until he felt her fingers pull him closer to her. She gazed at him with wanton yearning and the lustful pink on her cheeks gave away her intentions. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I’d rather draw this out…” Gale felt sick with desire. He felt himself thrum with arousal and shifted as blood rushed between his thighs. “Think about me tonight instead… while I think of you.” A soft groan spilled from his lips when her lips grazed his neck. “It will be our secret.” 

Abruptly, she pulled back and smirked at him before retreating into her tent. Gale swallowed hard, unable to turn around and face his companions yet. He thought about the worst things he could imagine and still the tidal wave of lust did not break. 

When he was able, he returned to his tent, grateful the rest seemed otherwise occupied. Her words wrap through his veins and the corners of his mind with wicked euphoria. 

He thought of her writhing in her bedroll, shaking and touching herself as she thought of him and it was nearly enough to force him to rupture. The need was too great. Tonight, he would do as she wished. 

*** 

The next morning as Gale prepared breakfast, he felt fingers trail along his shoulders and felt his resolve crumble. “Did you manage to blow off any bit of steam last night?” Gale’s husky voice gave away his extreme hunger for her and he was glad no one was around to hear. 

“Hm…”

“Hm?” Gale rose a brow and turned to face her and was struck with the same love sickness when their gaze met. Oh no. 

How was he meant to tell her? How could he? He was so close to having her and yet impossibly far. It shouldn’t be this difficult to share this with her, surely. He felt the words hot on his tongue and still, they would not come. He turned and shook his head, trying to settle his uneasy mind. 

“Did you?” Her voice against the back of his shoulder was too much, he was off kilter, starved for her. 

Gale cleared his throat and gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps I did.” She scoffed and felt her jolt away from him as Astarion’s voice cut through their thick tension. 

Astarion’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, though there was a devious glint in his eye. “Good morning. Far be it from me to interrupt the two new lovers.” Gale glanced at Tav who averted her gaze, turning red. “Oh, darling, I don’t hold it against you,” Gale’s stomach gnawed, the tentacles of envy poising him as he watched Astarion brush her hair back in an overly familiar way. “I wouldn’t want to be in a love triangle with,” he rolled his eyes, “Gale.” 

“Astarion,” Tav hissed, taking a step back. 

“Surely, you’ve told her?” Astarion’s lips curled and he stalked towards Gale, one wrist idly rolling as if he were stretching. 

“Tell me what?” She flicked her eyes to Gale, alarmed. 

Gale froze. All air left his lungs and his spirit left his body. When Gale spoke he was underwater. “What?” The words croaked out, his mouth barren.

Astarion didn’t know. Gale’s flight or flight was just overreacting. He couldn’t possibly know. 

“Come now, don’t be coy Gale -“ Astarion hummed as he stepped closer, holding his chin in his hand and then his eyes widened as the fiendish grin spread across his lips. 

The world stopped. The sensation that washed over him was worse even than when he presented Mystra with the piece of Weave. Worse than the orb. “Astarion -“ Gale tried, but black spots dotted his vision and nausea roiled through him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I would hate to spoil the surprise. I guarantee it will be quite the spectacle.” 

[bagely]

HI! this is a translation of a fanfic I already published in AO3 but, I'm trying to prove myself and write in english, Soo yeah my first lenguaje it's not english is Spanish and because of that this work would have some mistakes 😬 sorry for that I do my best but I'm still just learning, so you can correct me, I would appreciate that.

Oh, and its in Missa's pov

Title: Can I have your number?

Words: 2,009

Ao3 link:

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I walked through the door of the small university café, feeling the warm aroma of coffee fill my senses.

The barista, whose name is Starboby, was very welcoming, and there was nothing strange about her until I saw the bar where someone was preparing coffee with their back turned. I didn't recognize that haircut or the same tone, and I could say that with certainty since I had worked part-time at this place many times before.

«It seems like Roier has hired someone new» I thought, as I didn't recognize any of Roier's blonde friends. There weren't many people in the place, it was still very early. I adjusted my hair, which was longer than usual and a bit uncomfortable.

I walked confidently to the bar, and the barista turned around when she heard my steps and stood in front of me, several meters away. I stopped instantly.

"Oh, I didn't hear you," he said with a warm and cheerful voice while smiling at me. "Do you need anything?"

He was gathering some hair into a ponytail, and her deep blue eyes stirred something within me.

«WHY IS HE SO HANDSOME» I started feeling my heart stop or perhaps start beating so fast that I couldn't measure it myself.

"Uhm... I...just–" I was trying to forced myself to talk. I took a step back and said, "uh... I forgot something... I, uhm... goodbye"

Did I run away or walk very fast? I don't know, the point is that I was already two blocks away from that café. I slap myself.

«Missa, why do you always embarrass yourself? Fool, idiot, idiot...» I wanted to hit myself harder.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A few days had passed, and I had "forgotten" (or rather ignored to maintain my sanity) that encounter at the café.

Rivers, a classmate, ask me if we want to do some homework together, and since my house was a mess due to my lack of organization, she decided it would be better to go to Starboby, Roier's café at the university. And here I am again, and he is here.

If someone asked me to organize the 5 most embarrassing moments of my life, what happened in this café a few days ago would occupy the top 5 places.

I'm behind my computer while looking at him, hoping he doesn't notice. After half an hour in the place, I only know one thing about him, and that is his name, which is Philza, and I only know that because I noticed the shiny name tag that I didn't see on my first visit.

I want to ask for his number... I would love to be able to get up and approach him, act like a normal person, and just talk to him, but at this point, I'm sure he thinks I'm a weirdo. I am a weirdo, but I don't like to think that he knows it.

"You could ask Roier for his number," Rivers brought one of her pens to my face and started poking my cheek with it insistently.

"And seem like a stalker? No, thanks," I replied in a somewhat annoyed tone because of what she was doing to my face, but I couldn't complain much anyway since I'm a bit behind on our task.

"Sure, you don't want to seem weird to your boyfriend," she started sarcastically, and she moved away from me in her chair while rolling her eyes. "Okay, be subtle and keep staring at him like a crow."

"I'm not...–" I don't even know what I was about to say because my mind freeze when my eyes were caught by his.

«Did he notice?» I felt a bit scared, I immediately looked away, but I heard a slight laugh coming from him. «he got me.» my face is completely red. I couldn't look in his direction for the rest of the afternoon, which was beneficial for Rivers since we were able to finish some work in one day and organize the ones we have left.

I started packing up my things to leave the café, and I felt someone behind me. My body tensed up when I turned around and saw him there. Time felt slow as he handed me a piece of paper. «His number?» That thought made me blush again until I looked down to see the piece of paper he had given me.

"Thank you for coming," he smiled at me, well, at us, Rivers is still here saddly "Again."

I'm sure that last part is for me, but he only gave me a receipt, just a receipt.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Today the café is a bit more crowded, it's rush hour, so I should have expected it. The line is at least 10 people long, and when it's my turn, I find myself too excited. I'm at the front, and I see him. He smiles at me but turns and moves away behind a door to the back. I'm late.

"Missa, what's up?" Roier is now at the bar, smiling at me as if he had just heard the best joke in the world. "Have you seen my new barista?" The look Roier gave me was so indiscreet that I almost hit him, it's obvious that Rivers told him everything.

I restrain any aggressive impulse that grows within me because if I expose myself more than I already am, I'm sure he won't leave me alone.

"Cold coffee, and remember to sweeten it well... You always make it a bit bitter," I tell him, completely avoiding the topic.

He laughs and turns around to start doing what I asked. I lower my head to the counter where the desserts are, I only came to the place for coffee and to see Phil, but it wouldn't hurt to have a donut anyway, one of the things I wanted to see wasn't there, I need a consolation prize.

"Are you ordering something?" That voice makes my heart skip a beat, and it makes me lift my head to see Philza on the other side of the bar with his ever-present kind and reassuring smile. I could die at that moment and be satisfied. "Didn't he finish his shift? Oh, it doesn't matter, my prayers were answered," I say.

"Yes," I say, perhaps a bit too loud.

"Phil! I see you've met Missa," Roier's joyful voice also stirs my guts, but in an unpleasant way, as I'm sure of what's coming.

"Oh, yeah, I've talked to him before," Philza replied, nodding.

I'm not saying anything, and it's awkward because this conversation is about me, but I can't do it, everything in me prevents me from commenting on what's happening.

"You need to treat him well" Roier speaks again, and I have the urge to run away from there, again. "He's not new here, he's one of our most loyal part-timers. A VIP customer," Roier says.

"Roier, no, don't exaggerate," I finally speak, looking into the brown eyes and begging him with my eyes to shut up for once.

"I see," Philza laughs, I notice how easy it seems to make that man laugh, which defensively doesn't bother me, I would love to hear that laughter for longer. I look at him again, and he returns the gaze. "I'll take good care of him then."

If he continues to be like that, I'll probably have a heart attack and die.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

It's almost the end of autumn, which means it's been a month since I met Philza, and I still haven't asked for his number. But I'm making progress, I'm at the point where I can say a complete sentence without stuttering. Anyway, I'm sure he thinks I'm weird because that's the only part of my personality that I've shown him throughout this month.

I'm at the café again, but I'm smart and learn from my mistakes. I don't go to the café during hours when I'm sure Roier will be there. I made that mistake twice, the last time was last week, and the man managed to embarrass me by telling Phil about all my mistakes when I was a rookie.

I'm not hiding behind my laptop this time; I'm "reading" a book. I read on the internet that people who look intelligent are more attractive, and I must use everything I can to my advantage.

Although I haven't talked to him much, I now know a few more things about Phil than just his name. For example, he's 25 years old, which means he's only three years older than me, and apparently, he knows Roier from his boyfriend, and knowing Cellbit's great social skills, he's probably a classmate or a fellow student.

Among the little things I know, I also managed to ask him if he's dating someone in the most discreet way possible, which means I told Rivers to ask him, and I was next to her to listen, and miraculously, the answer was no. I had never felt luckier in my life. I think I almost screamed when I found out, almost because I managed to maintain my composure as much as I could.

"Are you going to order something?" His voice, his terribly charming voice, snapped me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize when he had approached me, placing his hand on the table in front of me.

��Your number» I didn't say it. I wish I had said it. Damn it.

"I'm... I'm fine, you know, just chill.. yeah.." I said, and I'm sure that every word coming out of my mouth It's getting worse and worse.

"Right " He said, and I felt something strange inside me when he sighed after speaking.

Phil seems very committed to his work, he always comes to ask me if I need anything, even if there are several people around. It's very admirable.

He's about to lift his hand from the table and walk away, but I don't want him to. There's no one else here, and a force that I hadn't felt all month pulls my hand, tugging at the sleeve of his white shirt, back to the table.

I turn to look at him, and that momentary force leaves my body.

"Yes?" He asks with a lopsided smile that suits him torturously well.

My eyes sink to the ground. I can only see his shoes and mine.

"Uh could you...uhm" I'm sure I must look like an elf, with my ears burning from the amount of embarrassment I feel. "Can I have your number?" Somehow, that sentence came out in full.

"I already gave it to you."

"WHAT?" I shout. Because there's no other way to express what was going through my head at that moment. I'm trying and searching through hundreds of memories if that ever happened and I have nothing...

"You threw it in the trash, I thought you had rejected me and now you were just giving me confusing signals." Well, with that, I raised my head, he still looked calm, only with a hint of blush almost imperceptible on his cheeks.

"Who was giving confusing signals to who?" My brain was melted, or maybe I was swapped in the middle of the night into someone else's life because all those things he says don't make sense. "Me rejecting you? I'm not insane."

He laughs, and I feel the atmosphere lighten. "Well, you did it." He speaks through clenched teeth, holding back laughter. "When you were with your friend, I gave it to you on the back of the receipt and you threw it in the trash."

«Idiot, idiot, idiot, WHY DIDN'T I SEE THE BACK?»

"I... I didn't see it." His hand goes to my cheek, and his face begins to approach.

«Am I dreaming?» I'm completely paralyzed.

He lightly taps his forehead against mine and then takes a few steps back, but I stand up so we're still close. He takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.

"Dumb" He says to me in that charming tone of voice that I'm sure I'll never get tired of.

[thebroccolination]

hey key!

I wanted to ask; do you have any winteam fic recs on AO3?

If yes, could you please suggest?? Thank you! Just asking for myself to read. And for others too!

I do! Okay, lemme try to assemble an eclectic mix and hopefully introduce a variety of writers and older fics that new fans might not have seen yet. I’m not caught up on all the newest fics (a lovely state of being to be in after two and a half years of refreshing the WinTeam tag every five minutes and finding one or maaaybe two a week). But you’re free to browse my bookmarks on AO3 for all my favorites.

bruises fade by @oopsimafannow

He can't even make his tongue form the shape for yes, but it's all he wants to say (it's all he wants to say out loud). Team is sucking a bruise on the inside of Win's thigh – he has, at some point, lifted Win's leg over his shoulder to give him access, tilting Win further into the cold metal with edges that bite into his shoulder blades.

The writing in this is some of the best and most visceral smut I've read in this or any fandom. I love when sex is written in a kind of matter-of-fact way that gives readers an idea of the sensations the characters are feeling. I'd read anything pinkish wrote, and I have two of their fics open in tabs. (One is for BounPrem's Cutie Pie characters WinTop, so I'm thrilled that exists.)

Course Correction by @nejineeee

“Did someone say you suck at kissing?” Win asked. He gripped Team’s hips in both hands. “Who have you been kissing, Team?” He sounded like he might start chewing rocks if Team didn’t answer immediately. “No one, no one, calm down,” Team said with a laugh. “I was just curious.”

I read most of this on a train in Japan and experienced a state of pure bliss the entire time. The characterization is spot-on, but so is the pacing and the comedic timing and phrasing. This is my favorite WinTeam fic at the moment, and I highly, highly recommend it. <3

Always Choose the Same by blackrose9212

“Win, do you want to talk about Tea—” Dean gets cut off as Manow sprints over to their table, throwing herself down into the seat across from them. She’s even more made up than usual today, no doubt seeing Pruk later. “P’Win!” she yells. Win raises his eyebrows, gives her the best look he can to say that he’s less than three feet away from her. “Oh. Sorry.” She giggles. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

This writer was one of the first around in early UWMA fandom, and I fell in love with all their fics. The clever, snarky way they write Win and Team's narrative POVs always makes me smile, and the build-up to emotion is lovely. If they write more, I'll dive on it in a second.

The Gift Is Your Voice by Ume_otyaduke0525

“Ah…o-one more time.” He felt Win’s hand tense. His face drew closer, his hot breath glazing Team’s lips. “Team.” The second time was sweet and enraptured.

This writer is an extremely prolific Japanese WinTeam fic writer, and I loved her work in Japanese so much that I offered to translate this one into English. The premise is really cute, with Team dreaming about a younger Win who calls him "phi", and I hope I did the translation justice. If you read Japanese or want to practice, they have some of their other work up on AO3 as well.

maybe time will keep this place by sweetadeline

When [Team] wakes up in the morning his mother is at the door, rubbing at her neck. Win is still snuggled into Team's shoulder, so he untangles himself as softly as he can, praying he doesn't wake. He oddly feels like he's been caught, the way his mother looks at him as she stays by the door.

Note: This fic was written before we knew anything specific about Team's parents.

This fic has a fascinating premise: Team has to attend his father's funeral, and Win goes with him. It's written so beautifully and delicately, I just fell so thoroughly in love with it when I read it the first time. It's one of my all-time favorites. It's just so atmospheric and lovely.

like someone who knows everything about you by @mendacity17

“Just so we're clear, I'm not cuddling with you at night," Win declares before Dean has finished setting his suitcase on the floor. Dean looks up at him, completely unfazed. “Okay.” It’s… Dean. Win didn’t realize just how much he's missed him, and he feels a wave of homesickness that leaves a scratch at the back of his throat.

This one is set while Win is studying abroad in London. Dean comes to visit him. Pollitt's love for writing Win and Dean's friendship really shines here, and they truly capture that playful snarkiness while never losing that distinctive and undeniable fondness they have for each other. (The end is incredible and made me tear up.)

New York State of Mind by iamtheenemy

“Oh, Team,” Pharm said, interrupting his frenzied thoughts and shattering any hope Team had that it was all a misunderstanding. “This is P’Win, P’Dean’s best friend, the one who was interning for his family’s company in England. P’Win, this is my friend, Team.” Team, Win mouthed at him, his eyes dancing with delight. Team barely held back a groan.

I was obsessed with this fic as it was posting; I could hardly wait for each chapter. This is a marvelous AU in which Win was studying abroad in England the whole time, and the first time he meets Team is on a plane to New York for DeanPharm's wedding. It's exactly what you'd expect and so much more.

Wrapped Up by @faandomcentral

“We can do better than that,” Team prompts, both hands now gripping Win’s hips, pulling him back in time with his movements. “A little louder, hia.” “Fuck!” Win spits when Team reaches and wraps his fingers around Win’s aching erection.

TEAMWIN. TOP TEAM. And hot Top Team. Bratty Top Team. Blair's another writer who absolutely nails what works about good smut. And the premise alone, while simple, just sets you up for a memorable experience.

your quietest feeling by @sollucets

Team moves his hand again to settle over Win’s, and when he thinks he can control his voice, he murmurs, “Did you have a nightmare?” Win’s expression looks pained, and he hesitates over it, but he does admit it. “Yeah,” he mumbles, clearing his throat after the word comes out scraping. “I did.”

For years, I wanted to know more about Win's vulnerabilities as a character. We didn't really get to see many of them in the existing parts of the novel or in UWMA, so fics like this that explore Win's trauma, Win's potential vulnerability to nightmares, it's a gift. And this fic captures the Win we know so well while adding onto his character in such an achingly real way. Utterly beautiful.

Dominoes by dragons_and_angels

"Team," Win said, making sure his lips brushed against Team's skin as he said the word. Team shivered and Win wondered if he could ever stop smiling. "Want to wake up yet?" "No." Team shook his head and then turned Win's head so he could kiss him. "Waking up is bad," Team murmured against Win's lips.

This is pure, soft domestic bliss. Win helps Team out with a chaotic morning, and it's just everything I love about them as characters condensed in a quick look into their day. It's absolutely charming the way only WinTeam can be.

+BONUS

Prelude by @nejineeee

“You’re in pre-heat then,” P’Tul said, leaning forward. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. It wasn’t rude per se, but it wasn’t the soberest thing to do. Win’s grip on Team’s hip tightened. “Tul,” Win growled. P’Tul stood upright, settling back into his sandals. “I’m not going into heat,” Team said again.

For me, omegaverse is usually just fun smut that I read occasionally, but in order to be taken seriously, the story has to go above and beyond in some very specific ways. I'm not a fan of omegaverse worldbuilding that leans on secondary genders as a substitute for the struggle of gender roles within heteronormative culture. This fic's worldbuilding is so fascinating. There are so many tiny nuances and details mentioned in passing that make the world feel authentic. Also, Win and Team are both just…………so stupid and so in love they miss obvious details in a way that's delightful instead of frustrating. Even if you're not the biggest fan of omegaverse usually, I recommend this as an exception to prove how good it can be when it's in the right hands.

--------

There are more in my AO3 bookmarks!

I'll also come back and edit this if I find tumblr urls for the writers above!

[deepspacedukat]

The Baker's Baker - Part One

So, this is the fic I made the poll about. 75% of you said you were at least open to other David Birney characters depending on the character, so here it is. I honestly have no excuse. David Birney played a hot character in "Murder, She Wrote" and I have caught the brainrot. Spoilers for S10E3 "The Legacy of Borbey House." I know I changed part of the story, but it doesn't stray too far from the original, hence the spoiler warning. I'm not tagging anyone for this fic, because, even though some Letant Enjoyers might like this, I don't think anyone came to my blog for MSW fanfiction lol. To those who choose to give this little brainworm a read, I hope you enjoy.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: Future chapters will contain smut/smut adjacent content, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild rudeness, flirtation, mention of a missing person per the episode plot, vampire rumors, utilizing cupcakes for flirtation, readers owns and works in a bakery, reader has history with Borbey House but that'll be expounded upon in a later chapter.

~*~

Cabot Cove was rife with rumors surrounding the property across the street from my front door. Borbey House had stood empty for a year and a half - some residents wondered if anyone would ever buy the place until a couple of weeks ago. I only caught a glimpse of my new neighbor as I was getting home one night. Dark hair, a darker suit, and the jaunty strut of a man who was utterly confident in himself - whoever he was, the new owner of the Borbey Estate was much flashier than the usual Cabot Cove crowd.

I only saw him once, though, along with a couple of curtain twitches from one of the upper windows. Any other time a person emerged from the house, it was without fail a harsh looking man with a square jaw. He and his employer both seemed rather ominous to anyone who believed in superstition, and the Borbey legacy was already saturated with those. All the mysterious deaths years ago...it was a wonder that anyone was interested in buying the place when it went on the market.

Legend had it that the original owner, William Borbey, had been a vampire, and given the new owner's tendency to avoid going out in the daylight coupled with how quickly gossip of any sort traveled through Cabot Cove, rumors about his condition spread rather rapidly. I couldn't really blame the man for not wanting to immerse himself in the insanity that was a small town like this. I had hoped I'd catch another glimpse of him eventually, but after that first sighting, all I saw was his - was the man with a square jaw a butler or a chauffeur? Both, perhaps?

This morning, however, my luck changed - for better or worse, I couldn't definitively say. It wasn't often that our postman switched mail around, but today I'd opened my mailbox to find a letter addressed to one 'Mr. Lawrence Baker.' Glancing at the address confirmed my suspicions: this belonged across the street.

With barely a moment's thought, I hurried back into my house and dropped off my own mail, scooping up a box of assorted cookies I'd packaged in advance for the bakery in the process. There were plenty more where that came from, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give Cabot Cove's newest resident a warm welcome.

Straightening myself up a bit, I grabbed the misdelivered letter and the box of cookies and walked across the street. Before I even got the chance to knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open. Mr. Baker's butler scowled silently, expectantly down at me with cold, hard eyes.

"Uh, hi! I–"

"Do you have an appointment?" His question was clipped and rough. Was that a German accent? Interesting.

"No, but–"

"Then begone." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

Oh, hell no. Tall and scary that man might be, but I wasn't about to just let someone treat me like that.

I was secretly quite proud of the firm, confident sound of my knuckles rapping on the aged wooden door. Once more, it was thrown open, but before Mr. Scary got the chance to do something more drastic than slamming the door in my face, I held up the letter so he could see the typeface on the envelope.

"This was delivered to me by mistake this morning. I was just coming over here to give it to its proper owner." After a tense moment of silence, the letter was snatched from my hand. "And these are from me. I run the bakery on Main Street and I wanted to officially welcome Mr. Baker to the neighborhood."

Shoving the box into the stunned butler's grasp, I turned on my heel and started back to my house, standing as straight as possible to cling to my remaining dignity. Well, that had been slightly more humiliating than I'd expected. So much for being neighborly–

"Excuse me, miss?" A smooth, sophisticated voice called out from behind me before I was more than a few feet down the front walkway. Looking back, I saw a familiar dark-haired figure stepping around the gruff-mannered butler to stand in the doorway. Red-lensed sunglasses rested atop the bridge of his nose, but it was still undeniably the same man I'd seen that first night. Lawrence Baker, in the flesh. Up close, he looked...well, extremely handsome. "I'm sorry for the rough reception. Peter is used to dealing with less pleasant visitors. I'm afraid most people don't like an outsider invading your peaceful community."

Taking a few small steps toward the door, I gave my elusive new neighbor a tentative smile and attempted to ignore the way his pale blue button-down shirt clung to his figure so perfectly.

"It's alright, but I promise not all of us are quite so prickly. I'm sorry if you've been on the receiving end of any sort of intolerance," I said, and he leaned jauntily on the door frame as a grin stretched his lips. The lines on either side of his mouth spoke of the many smiles he'd worn over the years. "Anyway, I should really let you get back to your day. I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. If you need anything, I live just across the street."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind, Miss...?"

I introduced myself, keeping a respectable distance between myself and the front door. The longer I looked at Mr. Baker, the more I wanted to do something ridiculous, like take up sketching just so I could capture the shape of his lips when he smiled.

"I couldn't help but hear what you said a moment ago. You run the local bakery?"

"Yes, I do. If there's something you'd like that I don't normally offer, I take custom orders." My brain went somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, and I fought to keep myself from blushing.

Instead, though, I had some restraint. Excusing myself, I retreated quickly back to my own home. I took a seat in the kitchen and glanced at the timer I'd set for the cake in the oven. There was still a while until I needed to check it.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at my kitchen table lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door, jolting me back to reality. A brief flash of fear zipped through me at the prospect of Mr. Baker or his butler - somehow the name 'Peter' didn't full encompass that man's personality - coming to throw my cookies back in my face and threaten legal action if I ever set foot on their side of the street again.

"Why, you look as pale as a ghost, child!" Seth exclaimed when I opened the door. I'd almost forgotten that he and Jessica were coming over for lunch today. Inviting them in gratefully, I stole a quick glance across the street and was just in time to see a curtain twitch in one of the upper windows of the Borbey House.

There was nothing I could do but close the door as if to block out the storm that was my neighbor's red-tinted gaze.

"Are you alright?" Jessica's hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just had a very odd encounter with the new owner of the Borbey place," I told her as we all made our way into the kitchen. A couple of hours passed, and with lunch consumed and my new cake recipe freshly sampled by the three of us, I'd heard several bits of gossip about Mr. Baker and his butler.

"You say he had red lenses in his glasses?" Seth asked as he cut himself another slice of cake. When I nodded my head, he hummed thoughtfully. "Those have a few uses medicinally, dependin' on the shade. He could be sensitive to light. Until he comes into my office, though, I'm afraid that's all I can say."

With a wry smile, Mrs. Fletcher leaned back in her seat.

"I doubt that will do anything to dispel those ridiculous vampire stories that have been making the rounds, lately." She was right, of course. "Be careful, dear, you might find him knocking on your door one night in search of something more than just cookies."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I felt suddenly better than I had all morning. Trust Jessica and Seth to know how to lift my spirits.

"I'll be sure to wear a garlic necklace and keep a stake handy," I joked. Allowing my smile to fall in favor of something more serious, I switched topics. "Any news about...?"

Jessica and Seth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"You'd be one of the first to know. The last tip-off the Sheriff had was a dud. Lady was in her fifties. Definitely not Laurel Perrin," Seth murmured setting his fork down. Had he already eaten his second piece of cake? Mentally, I marked that recipe down as a success. I'd have to make one or two for the bakery this week to see how people reacted to it. "I...I know you were her friend, and I don't mean to sound disheartenin', but the chances of Laurel turnin' up after all this time..."

The doctor laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table, and I looked pointedly down at the wood grain beside my fingers.

"I know, Doc. I just...I can't give up hope. Neither can Dave or Charlie. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other. You can understand that, right?"

"Of course, we can. Closure is a somewhat universal longing, especially for those closely involved in situations like this," Jessica murmured wrapping her arm around my shoulders in a reassuring hug. "Now, why don't you tell us how the new space for the bakery is working out?"

Never had I been more grateful for a change of subject.

--

Six days later, I was in the middle of serving who I thought would be my last customer of the night when the bell over the bakery door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I called over my shoulder as I boxed up a dozen brownies.

"No problem, take your time." I blinked a couple of times as I finished up. I knew that voice. Forcing myself to stay focused on my current task, I served my regular customer and handed him his change.

"Thanks, Jim. Have a safe drive home, okay?"

"'Course, ma'am, and I'll be sure and tell the wife you asked after her," he said tipping his hat as he turned to leave. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as I turned to the new arrival.

"How can I help you tonight, Mr. Baker?" The man in question was clad in a crisp, black suit that was probably worth more than my entire inventory, but the smile on his face softened his visage into something more personable.

And his eyes! I hadn't been able to see them properly when they were hidden behind his tinted glasses, but they were the clearest blue I'd ever seen.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable answer, or the truth?"

Oh, color me intrigued! Clasping my hands and resting them on the counter, I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Hm. Let's have the truth first, then the respectable excuse," I murmured, and he stepped up to the counter, tracing his fingertips over the refrigerated cases as he moved closer.

"Alright. I was fascinated by you the moment I saw you walking up the drive. The way you handled Peter's abrupt dismissal made me realize I'd made a mistake in avoiding contact with my neighbors," he said leaning one forearm on counter. "I wanted a chance to see you again...to talk to you longer than just a few seconds, and this seemed like my best bet. In my defense, I had no idea that I'd have such a gorgeous neighbor."

I forced the muscles in my face to remain neutral. No smiling, not yet. I had to be casual. If I let myself smile now, I might explode.

"And the respectable excuse?"

"Ah, that. Well, I heard about the special you were having on cupcake orders and thought I'd come take advantage of the discount," Mr. Baker said with a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. "What?"

Crooking my finger at him, I coaxed him into leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, trying to add to his anticipation.

"The special is on brownies today, not cupcakes."

A warm, velvety laugh spilled from his lips as leaned back again.

"Oh, damn, there goes my airtight alibi," he mused when his eyes met mine once more. "I guess that blows my chances of you accepting my invitation to dinner..."

I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, but I doubt you'd be interested in socializing with a man who can't even get his excuses in order beforehand," he teased. Giving me a shrug and turning to a cloche-covered tray of brightly-iced cupcakes, he pretended to study them as I forced my brain into gear.

"...What day did you have in mind?"

The wide grin he gave me lit up the whole shop.

"How about tomorrow night? From what I understand, your shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

"That's right. Sure, why not? Tomorrow sounds great," I answered lifting the cloche off the cupcake tray. "In the meantime, if we're going to sell that poorly-constructed cupcake excuse, you can't leave here empty-handed."

"Ah, thank you. We wouldn't want the rest of the town to think you were in danger from a reclusive vampire," he muttered with a gleam in his eye as I boxed up an assorted half dozen cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all. These are on the house."

His eyes went wide, and he placed one of his large hands gently on my arm.

"I didn't come here to swindle you out of your merchandise. I don't want you to think I can't afford a few baked goods."

"This has nothing to do with your ability to pay, Mr. Baker. Haven't you ever had someone do something nice for you before, just because they could?"

Something like comprehension flickered across his face.

"Not...in a very long time, no," he said just above a whisper, looking at me as though I'd transformed right before his eyes. Placing one of my hands over his where it still rested on my arm, I spoke just as quietly.

"Then it's about time someone did." A moment's weighted silence passed between us before I got back to the cupcakes, closing the box and sealing it with one of my labels. "There you are. And if you really want to do something to repay me, tell me this: what's your favorite dessert?"

He was silent for a moment while he considered his answer, but ultimately he shook his head.

"I'll have to think that over. It's serious business deciding something like this," Lawrence said with a faux stern expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, naturally. You can tell me over dinner, assuming you've selected by then," I said with an equally stern expression, but when a bright smile broke across Mr. Baker's lips, I cracked and let out a quick laugh.

"I look forward to your charming company tomorrow night, my dear," he said, and without a moment's hesitation, he caught one of my hands in his grasp and brought it to his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, the traitorous bastard, and before I knew it, Mr. Baker had taken his box of cupcakes and left.

Resisting the urge to squeal or smile so hard that my face broke, I went to the door and flipped the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.'

When I got home that night and exited my car, I glanced across the street. Instead of the usual twitching curtain, I was just in time to see both Peter and Mr. Baker in the latter's sitting room, nibbling on what were unmistakably a pair of my cupcakes.

If I'd been any happier, I might have floated away like a balloon.

--

"You're having dinner with the man? But neither you nor anyone else in town knows him very well," Doc Hazlitt protested the next morning as I chatted with him over the phone. He'd called to ask what day that new cake would be added to the bakery's menu so he could give me some extra patronage. Once I assured him it would be a Tuesday addition, he moved on to a rumor he'd heard about Lawrence Baker kissing my hand during business hours and leaving my shop with a box of desserts. I hadn't disabused him of the notion, hence his current state of agitation.

"Doc, I am perfectly capable of handling a simple dinner. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, and a sigh crackled down the line.

"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get hurt. I was the doc in the ward when you were born, and I've known you all your life. Is it any wonder that I feel a little nervous about you gettin' involved with a man who's only been in Cabot Cove for a handful of weeks?"

"Y'know, that's another thing, Seth," I started as I cradled the phone to my shoulder and slipped a tray of scones into the oven. "People around here act as though every new arrival or outsider is here to pillage the town. Why can't someone move in and be given the benefit of the doubt for once? Mr. Baker is perfectly friendly–"

"–And rich, to boot, meanin' he is used to gettin' exactly what he wants–"

"That's enough, Doctor. You haven't even met the man. You have no right to judge him until you've at least tried to get to know him." I didn't even try to keep the reproachful edge out of my voice. "Please, at least try to be open minded. If not for his sake, then for mine."

"I'd still be grateful if you gave me a call tomorrow morning so that I know you survived the ordeal," he requested, and after a quick agreement, he finally let me go.

Seth was right to an extent. I barely knew him, and Borbey house, despite my personal history, was still surrounded by gruesome stories and the ghosts of its past. It wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

Although, a benefit of spending time across the street was that I'd have a chance to change that surly butler's opinion of me. That was something I definitely needed to do, especially if I was going to be acquainted with his employer. Maybe with the right dessert, I could lower his defenses enough to show him I wasn't just a pest to swept out onto the street.

~*~*~

[indndwnshead]

Amalgamation: Part III - When you meet... Hoseok

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Chapter tags: developing relationship, meeting the bro, Namjoon being the absolute gentleman that he is

Series summary:

Now that you are a permanent fixture in Min Yoongi's life, it's inevitable that you meet the rest of BTS.

Each encounter with the rest of the group becomes a unique thread in the tapestry of life, gradually integrating disparate elements into a harmonious whole and seamlessly weaving into the fabric of your joined world.

A/N:

Oh wow, a double weekend update because I just can't hold myself back lol. Anyway, missing our eternal sunshine, hobi-ah🥹

Let's be friends and stan Yoongi together on twitter @itsdndwn 💜💜

---

Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.

Also read on: AO3

---

The much-anticipated day of your hangout with some of the BTS members finally arrived, marking your first official introduction as Yoongi's girlfriend. Unfortunately, not all of them were able to make it due to some last-minute schedule changes but you still look forward to this day.

As you began unloading the bags from your car in the building's private parking lot – which Yoongi had granted you card access to – you couldn't help but feel like you were juggling too many things at once. The bags contained your favorite take-out items for the boys to try, some of Yoongi's preferred snacks, and a few items you intended to leave in his apartment. It was quite the haul for someone of your stature.

As you approached the elevator, the imposing figure of Jung Hoseok, impeccably dressed with sunglasses and a face mask, caught your attention. Even with his discreet attire, you instantly recognized him. He seemed oblivious to who you were but insisted on helping with the bags.

"Let me help you with that," he offered, reaching for some of the bags you were carrying. "Looks like you've got quite a load there."

He smoothly took some of the bags from your grasp, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude as the burden on your arms lightened. You expressed your thanks, saying, "Oh, thank you so much!"

A warm smile graced Hoseok's face as he responded, "No problem! We all have those days."

Encouraged by his kindness, you playfully remarked, "Thanks for being my superhero in this elevator moment."

Hoseok chuckled, "Superhero? Well, I'm always here to save the day. So, what's with all these bags?"

You explained, "Just some food for my boyfriend and his best buddies and a few other things. You know, typical overestimation of my own strength.”

Another hearty laugh escaped Hoseok, "Well, better to overestimate than underestimate, right?"

"Exactly! I mean, who needs a gym when you can just carry these, right?" you joked.

Hoseok laughed loudly, "You've got a point! I like your style." Then, he grinned mischievously and said, "You know, I heard carrying bags is the latest workout trend. They even have a new fitness class called 'Bag-lates.' It's all about perfecting your lifting technique and toning those bag-carrying muscles." Hoseok lifted the bags in his hands, demonstrating the said workout.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his unexpected and comical take on the situation. His infectious energy and playful humor made the mundane ride feel like a spontaneous stand-up comedy session. Hoseok's laughter, accompanied by your own, echoed in the confined space, creating an unexpected but delightful memory in the ordinary setting of the parking lot.

He gasped in dramatic surprise when he finally noticed that you were heading to the same floor as him. "What a coincidence, I'm also going to this floor. Do you live here?"

You gave him a mysterious smile as you stepped out of the elevator. "No, my boyfriend does."

“Oh, lucky guy, my Hyung’s neighbor,” Hoseok said as you walked in the same direction.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” You said with a fond smile, thinking of Yoongi.

Hoseok watched in surprise as you approached the door to Yoongi's apartment. "Wait, that's Hyung's-"

He was interrupted by you opening the door with your fingerprint.

Yoongi himself stood inside the doorway ready to greet you. "Hey, you," he said, his eyes filled with affection directed at you.

You replied with a small smile of your own as you approached him. Glancing back, you saw Hoseok still standing outside the door with his mouth hanging open.

“Come in, Hobi-ah,” Yoongi said with a chuckle.

Hoseok snapped out of it and came in, closing the door behind him. You could feel his eyes still watching you interact with Yoongi, updating him on what you had brought with you that day.

Hoseok’s eyes widened in surprise as he connected the dots. "You're Hyung's girlfriend?"

Yoongi answered with a shy but proud smile, his affection for you evident in his eyes. "Yeah, this is _____."

Hoseok’s face was the perfect picture of shock. You tried hard to suppress your laughter by biting your lips.

Hoseok turned sharply to look at Yoongi. "Seriously? When did this happen?" His eyes flickered between the two of you, clearly taken aback by the news.

"Yeah, it's... kind of a recent thing. We wanted to keep it low-key for now.” Yoongi answered softly.

"Ahh, I'm so happy for you, hyung.” Hoseok ran to give Yoongi a big hug, it was heartwarming how genuinely happy he was for his hyung. He turned to you next, now that he knew who you were, his smile was even more blinding. “You are something special."

You blushed at his words, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. "I'm just me, Hoseok."

Yoongi scoffed, "Don't be modest. I'm betting all of my money that you'll win an award soon."

Hoseok's curiosity was piqued. "Do you work in the music industry too?"

You felt a mix of embarrassment and flattery from Yoongi's unwavering confidence in your acting skills. "I'm an actress."

"Oh, have I seen your work?" Hoseok asked, trying to recall if he had seen you in any productions.

Yoongi interjected, reminding Hoseok of a past conversation. "Really, Hoseok? You were quite excited about my cameo."

Hoseok eyes widened again as the realization dawned on him. "Oh! It's you!" He grinned, remembering the context now. "Yeah, I see it now. It's great to finally meet you in person."

You chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed but also amused by Hoseok’s reaction. "I get that a lot. I look different without all the makeup."

The evening went well, filled with laughter. You watched fondly as the four men interacted with each other, clearly having missed being together. Later, Yoongi and Seokjin went to the kitchen to prepare food. Hoseok followed not long after, offering his help. You, as the guest of honor according to Seokjin, and Namjoon, for obvious reasons, had been banned from the kitchen.

You ended up having a delightful conversation with Namjoon in the living room. It flowed easily, and you discovered that you had a lot in common, from the type of books you enjoyed to your shared love for art. He asked about your experience working with the director of the movie that you spoke about when you first met him. In turn, he gave recommendations of movies to add to your growing list.

The rest of the group returned to the living room when they were done preparing. Yoongi quickly took the seat beside you, and Seokjin and Hoseok filled the other spaces. The conversation shifted to Yoongi's cameo in your drama, and compliments for his acting skills were thrown around. He blushed with the attention, attributing his performance to your influence.

"Yeah! You're an awesome actress, _____!" Hoseok quickly added, "Your monologue in that drama Yoongi-hyung had a cameo in was powerful."

"Oh, I didn't know you watched that episode too," you said, "Thanks, Hoseok! I had a lot of time to prepare."

"We watched the entire series!" Seokjin said. "Wait, you do know you’re one of the major reasons I accepted the offer in the first place, right?"

You were speechless.

Seokjin, ever the enthusiastic one, turned to Yoongi. "What? You never told her this?"

“Hyung, you know damn well that I didn’t know anything about the project until you got that injury,” Yoongi defended himself.

"Your acting in that movie was impressive too. I will never forget a talented face," Namjoon commented matter-of-factly.

Blushing at the compliment, you thanked him sincerely. "Thank you, Namjoon."

Yoongi, always curious, chimed in. "What movie are you guys talking about?"

You waved off the question with a dismissive laugh. "Oh, it's nothing, really. Just an old indie film. My role wasn't even that important."

"What?! No way!" Namjoon protested loudly, "Your role was small but memorable. You brought depth to that character."

“I kept telling her that she’s good; she just won't believe it," Yoongi interjected.

You playfully pinched his side for outing that fact. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot coming from you." It was heartwarming to see how supportive they were.

The conversation continued, with many topics revolving around you and Yoongi. Eventually, they began discussing how to introduce you to the rest of the maknae line, who coincidentally couldn’t make it to the gathering that day. Ideas were tossed around playfully, and you and Yoongi simply laughed along, enjoying the camaraderie and warmth of the moment.

The evening concluded with delicious food, friendly banter, and board games that left you all in stitches. It was a memorable night that solidified the connection between you and these remarkable individuals who had welcomed you into their fold. You couldn't have asked for a better introduction to Yoongi's world, both on and off the stage

[bakuliwrites]

Milk and Honey- Kento Nanami

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Relationship: Kento Nanami x Unnamed OC (or Reader, you can interpret it either way! :) I didn't really have any particular OC in mind, I sort of just wrote and this is what came out)

Summary: There is nothing cursed in this room. Instead, this bedroom is a sanctum. A haven for their love. Nothing can taint it. Nothing can corrupt or befoul it. It is precious and sacred. Her heart, her soul, is his refuge. And his, hers.

Nanami and his beloved enjoy a peaceful, sultry afternoon together.

Tags: PIV, Lactation K*nk, Breastfeeding, Fluff, Smut, Comfort S*x, Praise K*nk, Body Worship, Honey Play, NANAMI NEEDS TO RELAX

A/N: Ooops, I wrote another Nanami fic. I can't stop myself. Oh, Kento Nanami <3 He deserves all the soft and peaceful and wonderful things in the world. He's such a sweetheart <3 I really couldn't resist writing a soft, fluffy, smutty fic for him. Something where he can just bask in the afternoon sunlight and make plans with his beloved for a bright future. As always, thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. Stay tuned for more Nanami content. Lots of love <3

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

Honey trickles down the supple flesh of her bosom, clinging to the pert buds of her nipples like drops of amber. A bead lingers, glistening golden in the hazy afternoon light. What Kento wouldn’t give to be enveloped in this tranquil moment forever. Caught in her sultry gaze. He had wanted to try something new. She’d said, “Why not make it a little bit more exciting?”

So here they are, basking in the gilded beams of sun that filter through the delicate gossamer curtains of their shared bedroom. Kento kneels before her on the bed, awestruck like he was the very first time they made love. He sits patiently, deep brown eyes filled with a wonderment he’ll probably never rid himself of. He will always be bewitched by her, body and soul. A coy smile tugs at her lips, mischief glimmering in her irises as she drizzles sweet amber across her bosom. Plenty for him to enjoy, but not too much. Honey hangs on her collarbone, a bejeweled, confectionary adornment. 

She beckons him closer, done with her solitary activity, ready for him to partake. Her lips are the first thing to greet him, tongue tracing his, begging quietly for entrance. As he deepens the kiss, her soft moans into him are enough to send him reeling. Kento feels desperate for her, needy and immensely deprived. Her hands at the nape of his neck, clutching at the short hairs and tugging ever so slightly, make him huff. She giggles, delighting in Kento’s tragic mewling as she draws him back towards the pillows with her. She lays on one side, head resting in the heavenly pile of pillows she’s created, directing Kento to lay facing her. 

Kento’s hands never leave her, and his lips trail up and down her chest. Her scent is intoxicating, her skin silky and smooth. Kento tries to memorize her body with each pass of his large hands over her curves. Though in the years they’ve known and loved one another, he's already memorized her form perfectly. 

"No harm in refreshing your memory," she giggles, eliciting a rumbly laugh from him. Every piece of her is beautiful. His lips trail along the stretch marks on her stomach and thighs, honoring each one with gentle kisses. He traces the pale white lines that radiate out from her areolas, marks of the hard work her swollen breasts are doing. She winces a little at his touch.

"I'm sorry, my dearest," he apologizes, ghosting a kiss against each of her nipples, droplets of honey dappling his lips, "I couldn't resist."

She chuckles, reassuring him that she's alright. Kento busies himself kneading the tender flesh of her hips, luxuriating in her soft sighs, licking his lips of the bits of honey that cling to them. Her laugh graces his ears once again as he tickles the sensitive spot just behind her ears, leaving tiny love bites along her neck. 

“Kento, my darling, you’re too good to me,” she praises, and he feels heat blooming across his cheeks. She’s always so forthcoming with her praise. He hardly feels he deserves it, but she insists he does. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he returns, stealing one last kiss from her supple lips before settling in beside her. 

“Ready, my love?” she coos, cheeks rosy and eyes bright with affection. Kento, a man of few words, merely nods. This had been his idea, and he was glad she was on board. She's always treating him, always helping to wash away the stresses of his day. Life as a sorcerer is filled with so much peril. But she is always a place of safety, a place of peace. Kento wants to help her now. And, he thinks to himself, this will no doubt be relaxing for the both of them. Comforting and calming. Relieving. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she goes on, a flash of worry in her eyes, “I don’t want it to be- I don’t know… I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I want to do this,” Kento returns, cupping her face in his hands, the pads of his thumbs caressing her cheeks, “You’ve been in so much pain lately. So, as long as you’re okay with it-”

“I am,” she beams, “I’m ready.”

Kento settles himself in. The fresh linens are cool on his overheated skin. Her perfume is heady in his nose and he wouldn't have it any other way. He gazes up at her through hooded lashes, eyes bright with adoration. The look she returns is one of deep affection, a small smile scrunching up the corners of her eyes. Kento is enamored. His lips close around her nipple, taste buds drawn in by the sweet taste of honey before he suckles and is hit with a burst of a new kind of succor. Her milk is sweet and slightly sour, filling him with warmth. She gasps softly before lightly raking her fingers through the short blonde strands of his hair. 

His calloused hands grasp her hips, pull her closer to him. Kento can feel her fingers dance down his ribs, tickle his stomach, and graze the hair just below his navel. He’s hard already, he can’t help it. The mere proximity of her, the tenderness of her touch, drinking her in, it’s all swirling around his mind. Building in his core, a lambent flame threatening to burst into a wildfire. Milk and honey dance on his tongue, while her fingers wrap around his cock. 

“Do you want me to?” she whispers, breath catching in her throat. Kento pulls back for air, his response a sloppy, desperate kiss against her lips. 

“Yes,” he manages to breathe before diving back into her swollen tits. His nerves are electric. The gentle tickle of her nails grazing his scalp. Every tender caress along all his battle scars. Her skillful hands at his groin. This moment is voltaic, charged with an energy Kento has only ever felt with her. When she leans down to press her lips to the top of his head, her hair creates a curtain hiding his face. Sunlight filters through the strands. There is nothing cursed in this room. Instead, this bedroom is a sanctum. A haven for their love. Nothing can taint it. Nothing can corrupt or befoul it. It is precious and sacred. Her heart, her soul, is his refuge. And his, hers. 

She strokes, up and down, the slow rhythmic motion of her hand aided by a bit of lube from the tube beside their bed. Kento drinks and she pumps. His husky grunts mingle with her tiny, pleasured moans. His fingers find their way to her heat, circling her clit in slow rotations. 

“Kento,” she whimpers, and it’s music to his ears. He switches now to her other breast, hoping he’s helped to relieve her even just a little bit. He hadn’t realized how much he would like this, how much she would like this. But this is bliss. She picks up her pace, and he follows suit, thumb circling her clit faster while he slips two fingers into her entrance. 

“Ah!” she gasps, “Kento, I need you.” 

He manages to grunt softly in response, breath fanning against her breast. He’s not quite done yet, but he will be soon. He has to be soon, or he won’t last much longer. Kento can already feel his cock twitching in her hands, and her walls shuddering around his fingers. 

“I need you inside me, my love,” she entreats, huffy little breaths escaping her lips. He needs to be inside her. He withdraws his fingers, pulls back from suckling, and almost smashes his lips to hers. Their kisses are hungry, messy and desperate. He hovers over her, his deep brown eyes meeting her sparkling irises. Breathless and flushed, she is a vision. She smiles up at him, the world brightening with her.

“You’re beautiful, Kento,” she beams, hands resting on the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Butterflies in his stomach is an understatement. His heart wants to pound straight out of his chest. He turns his head ever so slightly to press a lingering kiss into the palm of her hand.

“I’m spellbound by you,” he returns, and with this, she draws him in, crashing her lips against his. Slowly, he sheathes himself in her, pausing for a moment to allow her to adjust to his girth. Her legs wrap around his hips and press him flush against her. She holds him there for a moment, kiss after kiss searing against his lips, keeping him buried deep inside her. This is the closest their physical forms could ever be, and still, it doesn’t feel like enough. 

When she draws back for air and loosens her legs on his hips, Kento swipes his finger through some of the remaining honey on her breast and offers it to her. Gently, she laps it up, tongue swirling around the tip of his finger. Kento sucks in a breath, a burst of fire in his core. With this, he pumps into her, rhythmic and slow. He wants to take his time in worshipping her body. They rock their hips together, smooth like the swell of ocean waves. It fills him with serenity, with fire. 

There's a slight chill in the air, but it's warm in the house. The droning of cicadas fades into the background, the last vestiges of summer clinging desperately to the diminishing heat of the season. But all Kento can hear is his darling's soft moans and the whispered proclamations of love passed back and forth between them. 

“My darling,” he huffs, rolling his hips against hers, “I adore you.”

“And I, you,” she returns, eyes fluttering shut, her release imminent. The fire in him builds, the coil in her tightens. Her breasts bounce with each pump into her. Her breath is shallow, her moans needy. Kento grips the sheets tight, his pace becoming erratic. 

“Faster,” she implores him, fingernails digging into his back. He picks up his pace. So close. So close. He hits deeper and deeper inside her, and all of a sudden, her coil bursts with his flames. 

“Kento!” she cries, lyrical and lovely. He calls out her name just as melodious, adoration and love filling his voice. Kento buries his head in the crook of her neck, the sensation of her fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his back an utter delight. Her walls shudder around him as he releases into her. Stars dot his vision and electricity runs through his veins. Shakily, he stays inside her, allowing himself to catch his breath. They cling to one another, not ready to let go. 

Finally, when Kento does manage to pull himself from her, he watches as his cum drips down her thighs and onto the sheets. He’s about to get up to clean up his mess, but she holds out a hand to stop him.

“Stay for a minute,” she entreats, pulling him down to join her where she rests. Kento’s skin feels like it’s on fire when he flops down on the mattress next to her, sensitive and prickly. But he wants her close, even still. She rests on his chest, sticky honey clinging to them both. Silence passes between them, comfortable and warm. The room is hazy with sunlight, tiny dust motes floating in the beams, hovering weightless in the sun's gilded tendrils. This languid afternoon is everything Kento has needed. He is renewed in her embrace, refreshed in this tranquility. 

“Can I help clean you up?” Kento offers after a while. 

“Kento Nanami, always a gentleman,” she teases, giving him a small peck on the cheek, “I would love some help.” 

He runs to the bathroom, preps some warm washcloths for her, and tidies up the mess he made. He uses another one to wipe the remaining honey from her bosom. 

“Thank you, my darling,” she praises, as he lifts her into his lap. She fits so perfectly there, her heat against his groin, supple thighs straddling his. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, she presses her lips featherlight to his cheekbones before closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his. 

“I am the luckiest woman in the world,” she whispers.

“And I’m an even luckier man,” Kento returns, to which she chuckles. 

"Hmmm," she hums, snuggling up closer. Kento runs his hand lazily through her hair, the feeling of her soft locks caressing each of his fingers an absolute joy.

"Let's go away," she mumbles with a smile, "To that beach we've always talked about. We can sift through the tide pools and read books in the sand."

Kento beams, eyelids shut in utter contentment.

"That would be lovely."

[fang-and-feather]

Chasing Hope

Ikemen Vampire - Jean x OC

This is an alternative version of chapter 10's premium story, with a very old version of Amy, that I just thought fitting for this

Written for the Love Booth Challenge by @queengiuliettafirstlady, for Jean's prompts: Monster and "I am not worthy of love."

I had plans to write this for a long time but I finally thought these prompts were perfect for it

Words: 1,742

Summary: Jean is sure Amy was to lose all hope she had in him after witnessing he lose control. He didn't expect she had her own secrets to share and her own shadows that even her didn't seem to fully understand, or for him to realize he'd grown more attached to her than he'd though. But how could he? A monster like him didn't deserve her love.

Tags: Probably mutual pining (but they hadn't even fully realized their feelings yet); angsty due to it being during-canon Jean; but also a bit comforting, so maybe a somewhat bittersweet fic; Jean's POV

This was somewhat inspired by this song that I found fitting for them and for this

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Amy was tense and fidgeting.

Jean didn’t blame her, though. Who would be comfortable stuck in a room with a monster like him? After what he almost did? After everything she saw?

He should be used to that. It was just a matter of time before she realized who he truly was.

Then why did it hurt? Was it because Amy had showered him with praise, support, and hope that he almost started believing her? Believing he was not a monster? Believing he deserved salvation? Redemption?

If so, that had been foolish of him. Amy acted like she could love a monster, but a monster didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve her unconditional kindness.

“Do you think Saar will be okay?” She asked, voice trembling.

When he didn’t immediately answer, her gaze fell on him, only to be diverted quickly. And of course she did. How could she stand such an ugly visage as he was at the moment?

She had often called him beautiful. This was the proof she was wrong. The sight that would change her mind.

“I’m bothering you, aren’t I?” She looked down at her blood-covered hands and shirt. “Sorry. I’ll see what I can do about the blood right away.”

She turned to leave, but Jean caught himself stopping her.

‘No. It’s… not that. You are not bothering me.”

“Then what is it?” She asked curiously. Worriedly.

She was still concerned about him, and Jean couldn’t stand it anymore. Not without…

“...I’m sorry for exposing you to this ugly face. And I’m sorry… for putting you through something so scary.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and, to Jean’s surprise, Amy burst out into laughter, although she tried to immediately hold it back.

“Oh, Jean.” She took a deep breath, then her eyes focused on him again. “Why are you apologizing?” Her voice and gaze were soft, with a hint of amusement to them still. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed that nobleman, without a doubt.” And she was nervous a moment before. Why was she laughing now, as if it were nothing? “I had no control over my own urges. Not in that moment. I knew you were afraid. I knew I was scaring everyone around me. But… I couldn’t stop myself.” Amy’s gaze dropped again, and she frowned. Was she only now coming to realize what really happened? The monster he was underneath whatever hopeful facade she gazed at him with until now? As she should. As was best for her. “Mademoiselle. You should go home without me.”

“Why?”

“Surely you must hate being in a room with a man like me now…”

But Amy looked up at him again, with determination, and shook her head.

“I’m not going anywhere. I hate being here, but not because of you. I hate being trapped in an unknown place, but you being here brings me comfort. So please… let me stay with you.”

Although he had been conscious of her own gaze, it was the first time Jean fully looked back, astonished. He had misunderstood what had made her so nervous before. And how could she find comfort in someone like him?

She was too radiant, and Jean feared getting caught in her light any further. Into her hopefulness. Then she would go home and take it all away.

But he also feared letting go of that light. Of the only being who looked at him as he truly was and stood her ground. Accepted him.

Jean feared letting her make him forget the monster he was, only for her to get caught in a situation similar to the one they just faced, where she would regret it.

He feared losing her.

A soft, damp, slightly chilly hand touched his cheek, startling him back to reality. Bringing his attention back to this woman, who never ceased to surprise him. She who looked at him with so much care.

“I was surprised there, but there is no way I’d ever be afraid of you, Jean. Besides…” Her gaze dropped again, her expression clouding and her hand still on his cheek trembled, her other hand closing into a tight fist. “...a part of me was tempted to let you.” Her voice came out in a trembling whisper, almost drowned out by the rain outside. “And if the police hadn’t arrived, I would have beaten him up. Maybe I have more control, but I am not always as pure as you think I am. Not as I want to believe. But…” At this, she looked up, gentle determination back to her face. “...it’s not enough to condemn us. It does not make us monsters. And…” Her thumb traced the edge of his scar. The unexpected gesture and her sweet smile making him shudder and tempting him to turn away. To run away. But he stood his ground and held her gaze. “Anyone who thinks to call this ugly is so incredibly stupid. They’re letting this tiny scar come between them and the chance to find out how beautiful you truly are.”

“...What are you saying?” And why?

Instead of answering, she stepped back and removed the glove from her right hand.

Jean had noticed but never thought much about the fact that he’d never seen her without it, even when he’d seen her without the left one. Or why her right glove covered her fingers and the left one didn’t.

But as she turned her palm up, he realized why. A burn scar marked a good part of it. And as he stared, she unbuttoned her cuff and pulled the sleeve a little up, revealing the marks snaked around her arm.

“I was in an accident when I was a child.” Amy explained, shrugging. “It doesn’t look as bad now. But this doesn’t matter. Even without this… I told you how beautiful you are before, and that hasn’t changed. Not because we match, or because we are more similar than we seem, but because I see who you truly are beyond that. And you are still so incredibly beautiful to me. Inside and out.”

This was another impulse he couldn’t control, as, with a hand behind her head, Jean gently pulled her to him.

“Jean? What is it?” Amy asked, but not in a tone of complaint.

He didn’t know. What had gotten over him? Why was his heart beating so fast?

But Jean hesitated to let go, as much as he hesitated to touch her further. But he couldn’t force himself to let go and apologize, as he intended, and instead pushed himself to wrap his arm around her back, afraid of scaring her, of making her feel trapped, of whatever it was that prompted him to initiate such contact in the first place.

He could feel her heart beating as fast as his, and it was oddly comforting that it reflected his own.

Amy started to pull back, but Jean held her tighter but still carefully, twining his fingers in her hair. He felt oddly like she would disappear if he let go, but she would break if he held her too tight.

“What is the matter?” She asked, again with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t help.” She laughed.

“I know...” Even he didn’t understand his actions. His feelings. Everything felt so foreign and still oddly human, for someone who hadn’t been human in a long time.

“Jean?” she called when he stayed silent a little too long.

“... I know, but I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to… let you go yet.” He turned to look better at her, and his lips brushed her ear. He couldn’t see her face properly, but she had relaxed in his embrace, her heart beating even faster. “Can we stay like this just a little longer, Amy?”

Her whole body trembled, but he felt her nod, and that only made him feel warmer. Why was he so satisfied that she agreed? What was this strange feeling?

Amy wrapped her arms around him too, and they stood there, in silence for a moment. Then he heard Amy’s sweet voice again in a comforting whisper. She was singing, which wasn’t weird of her, if it didn’t sound like she was singing straight at him, and if he didn’t understand the song, even when she was clearly singing in a language he knew nothing of.

The song was the same as her words: of light and hope, of letting go of the hurts of the past and looking forward to tomorrow. Or was it what he wanted to believe? His feelings reflected in a melody he truly didn’t understand? But it sounded like she was singing for the both of them, for something she was remembering but didn’t tell him.

“A part of me was tempted to let you.” “I’m not as pure as you think I am. Not as I want to believe.” She had said all that, looking so close to crying and so afraid of something he couldn’t see.

What kind of accident hurt her in such a way? What did she find so similar in them beyond that? What shadows were the reason behind these words? And how could she still be so radiant, then?

Because, to him, she was still so pure and beautiful.

Jean closed his eyes and lost track of how long they stayed there together until her voice started faltering and finally died out, her body going limp in his embrace, exhausted, and Jean gently picked her up, although he had no idea what to do. He couldn’t put her to bed with her clothes in such a state.

All she had done. The words she had spoken. If he didn’t know better, he would say she loved him. And that he felt the same.

“I am not worthy of love.” He whispered to himself in a vain attempt to curb these lasting rays of hope.

Amy was just too giving, too trusting, and, at this moment, too emotional. He was reading too much in her kind nature.

But a tiny piece of him stubbornly refused to let go of her light. It might not be love, but her words were true, and he wanted to believe he could leave these shadows behind for once and move on. If just this once, until she had to go back to her time.

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[bhaalbabebardlock]

~ Nature's Gifts ~

Masterpost | All works | AO3 Link

Chapter 6- The Weave

Important tags: Dom!Gale, soft Dom gale, uhh weird astral sex? Idk okay, m/f, please check out other tags on AO3!

Summary:

This chapter is a retelling of Gale's Act 2 romance scene.

“I want to… begin our story. Write our own thousand nights that we turn into a masterpiece. To be with you, in the most intimate way possible, expose myself to you and you to me. To know all of you. What do you say?” She leaned her head back against his chest, tapping her fingers on the cover of the book.

Masterpost | All Works | AO3 Link

Excerpt is below the cut, full chapter is posted on AO3!

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

Chewing on her lip, she bumped his shoulder with hers, her voice soft. He'd been so quiet the last few days, since Elminster had found them. So pensive. He seemed to have pulled into himself, just when she thought they were starting to get closer. Any conversation about the necrotic magic in his chest ended with his silence. She wasn't sure this discussion would go any differently.

“Is it really just the stars that's got you out here looking so mopey all by yourself, Gale?” He sighed, pulling his hands into his lap.

“No, I suppose not.” She studied him while she waited for him to continue. She wasn't one to push, and she knew he would continue when he wanted to. So she took in all the tiny details.

He was beautiful really, in all the painfully human ways Astarion wasn't. All of the little imperfections in his face where there was only smooth marble in Astarion's was one of the things she, possibly, loved the most about him. The reminder of the life he had lived so far. The looming darkness of the humanity they shared between them. She thought about it often. Druids lived long lives. But not forever. Not like Astarion would. And Gale? Even less time.

She swallowed around the pain of that for a moment before returning her gaze to Gale's face.

NSFW Below the Cut!!!

She moved her hands up, threading his dark hair around her fingers to pull his mouth closer to hers, awash with the complex simplicity of the intimacy and magic burning between them. His tongue sliding against hers, the taste of spearmint and parchment filling her mouth. Sparks of sheer pleasure, living electricity, broke out across her flesh as his fingers slid between her legs.

“Ah, you're already so-” he dragged a finger over her lips, grazing it teasingly over her entrance, making slow circles around her clit but not touching it.

“So ready for me. I do enjoy how eager you always are.” Her breath caught, a moan tumbling out of her throat as ran his finger over her clit with just enough pressure to drive her mad, but not enough for her to find any relief. She pressed down against his hand, seeking more contact, only to let out a frustrated groan as he pulled his hand away.

“You know Tav, I do think you could ask for what you want. If you're polite enough, I'll consider giving it to you.” She whined once more, biting her lip as she stared back at him.

“Please?” She pouted, sticking her lip out. He chuckled, grazing a knuckle over her folds again, making her shiver.

“Something tells me you can do better than that. Come on, Octavia. Beg me.”

“Gale, please, I-”

“Ah. Right now, I think it would be more fitting if you called me ‘sir’, don't you? We can take that further… later.” Heat coiled and clenched inside her stomach, between her thighs, her breath catching in her throat. Oh.

“Please, sir, I need you to touch me. I need your fingers in me, on me. I need your cock. Please, please Ga-, sir. Please.” His smile was almost better than everything around them. Adoration and lust and something in his eyes that was just a little darker, a smidge of something deeper shining through as fingers not quite as gentle as usual pressed into her hip, his other hand thrusting a finger up into her unexpectedly.

She cried out from the sudden pressure, the feeling of his fingers curling inside of her as he added another one. She felt everything, the ecstasy of it in every molecule of her being, experiencing pleasure in a way that she had never been able to before.

“Gods, you are so gorgeous like this, when you're coming apart for me.” She whimpered, pressing kisses to his throat as she bucked against his fingers, unable to think outside of the hazy cloud of all consuming heat spiraling through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hard length settle against her stomach, his thumb brushing over her clit again making stars burst behind her eyelids instead of just in the air. She felt herself clenching around his fingers, burying her face against his neck as she moaned and writhed, riding out wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure.

The Rest of This Chapter on AO3!

Masterpost | All Works

[illicien]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @hiddenxplaces-blog

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

52

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

1,098,853

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Marvel. Specifically TFATWS at the moment.

4. Top five fics by kudos:

Time-Lost (IronStrange) Fathomless (IronStrange) Scribbles On Our Souls (DrPepperony) Heart of Gold (IronStrangeFrost) Persistence (IronStrange)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Almost every time. Sometimes I get a bit caught up or delayed, but typically I respond to comments pretty regularly. I love chatting with readers!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I've actively posted the fic with the truly angsty ending, yet, so I think the closest is probably a bittersweet ending with Still Here. (IronStrange / Stephen & Peter)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well this one took a sec. Keeper (IronStrange), probably?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh not typically to my face, no.

9. Do you write smut?

Yep.

10. Craziest crossover:

I don't really do crossovers, so really the only crossover I can think of plainly is the DRoP/IronStrange fic we did, Heart of Gold.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I've seen so far.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A fair few of them. 💓

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yep. A few!

14. All time favorite ship?

"All-time"? Time hasn't ended, I could hardly say. 😏

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

At this point? Embraced. And I'm so sorry to everyone who was waiting for more.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Wait you want me to say nice things about myself? Goddamnit. I used to think dialogue was a weakness of mine, but I think I've improved a lot over the last couple of years since writing scripts necessitated writing solid dialogue, so I'm pretty confident in that, now. I'm also fairly strong where creating lore and histories are concerned; you want me to explain the magic in a universe? I've got you. You want to know the history of a region? I've got that down, too. World-building in general is my bread and butter.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Does "actually finishing a story" count? The reality is, I lose motivation really easily. I function best when I have someone to consistently bat ideas and things back and forth with, otherwise I get severely in my head about things to the detriment of whatever I'm writing. I also rely more heavily on degree modifiers than I should, and while I'm aware of it I still suck at minimizing it.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I find it highly dependent on whose PoV the story is in. If the PoV character doesn't speak the language, I love being just as confused as them by not knowing the language. If the PoV character does speak the language I can be a little more picky about it, unless it's simply a singular word of endearment or something, because those can be difficult to translate even if you know both of the languages. But I have a love of and fascination with languages.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Uh.... Yu-Gi-Oh!, I think?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

What an excellent question. I'm actually really proud of (Loss Of) Control (WinterBaron). I set out with some really specific goals for what I wanted to accomplish with it, and I mostly succeeded. There's definitely a section that's weaker than the others, but I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone and made an effort to tackle a trope I'd never written in fic, and to tackle an element of that trope that I felt like I wanted to see handled more in depth. And I'm proud of the result.

Tagging -> @descaladumidera @atypical-snowman @amethyst-noir @jeromesankaraao3

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