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instant-delusions · 7 months

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I am so glad you’re taking reqs!! Beach sex with rafayel on my mind 24/7 😔😳

not u reading my mind...💓💓

☆

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐩! ˚⋆𓇼˚⊹ 𖦹 ⁺｡°

𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐰: 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

'it's 30°C in linkon right now, people! that means swimming, beach parties, sex on the beach, and beaches."

you groaned at the weather reporter's distasteful pun and reached out to turn the volume of your mini radio down. huffing, you kneeled on your beach towel, re-knotting the strings of your bikini top. your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when you felt stares on you, clenching your fist, you turned around to give whatever man thinks he has the audacity to-

"rafayel." you exclaimed in a relieved tone, letting your fist sink. said man cocked his head to the side with his signature smile - he was wearing dark blue swimming trunks and a creamy shirt, which he left unbuttoned. sunglasses sat on his purple hair, and the sun shined so brightly on him, it almost made his strands look lavender. "is an excuse of a man giving you trouble?" he asked, his voice laced with a tilt of threat. you shook your head, stretching out your legs and supporting your upper body with your arms to look at him. "i'd take care of that myself." you started, pursing your lips, "what're you doing here? i didn't think you'd be the type to enjoy public beaches."

the artist crouched down to be on eye level with you and began to draw random shapes into the sand. "you'd be right. i'm just passing through to the private beach i rented." he pointed his finger westways, signaling to a lonely patch of sand surrounded by trees. you gawked at him after the words 'rented' and 'private beach' left his throat and shook your head in disbelief. "rich people have weird hobbies."

rafayel let out a fake 'ha, ha.' but the grin on his face was genuine. letting his magenta eyes travel around the beach, he took in the empty beer bottles and weird people hanging around. "come, join me. this place sucks."

so you did. even though your crocs were filling up with hot sand, it was thrilling to have a beach just for the two of you. after placing your (definitely not spongebob printed) bath towel, rafayel immediately lifted you over his shoulder and dropped you into the icy, salty seawater. resurfacing, you gasped - pulling your wet hair back from your face.

"you."

just hearing the pure, hot anger in your tone, rafayel booked it into the other direction. "you motherfucker!" you sprinted after him, hunter senses kicking in until you tackled him onto the ground. "you're under arrest, rafayel." a cheshire cat-like grin formed on his face, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "what're you gonna do to me, miss hunter?" he began, leaning closer to your face. "what's my sentence?" he whispered, slowly turning both of you around. feeling the energy switch abruptly, you broke eye contact. "i'll...keep you in a small fishbowl, like cosmo and wanda."

letting out a chuckle, he kissed your bare shoulder. "doesn't seem that bad." nuzzling deeper into your neck, he pressed hot mouthed kisses to your throat and collarbone, making you whine out needily. "please, rafa. not here, they'll see." locking eyes with him, you knew this was a useless battle. his eyes were glazed over, a hunger you knew all too well reflecting in them. "I don't care." he said, voice muffled by your skin. spreading your legs, you gave him space to settle, which he took with delight. "seems like you don't care, either." you reacted with a pout, not wanting to admit you were down bad this immensely for him. "I'm still dripping from your attack. it must taste bad. or maybe it'll make a fish like you nostalgic."

rafayel laughed at your attempts to cover your shyness, finding it weirdly endearing. it is very unlike him to choose to stay quiet, but he did - drawing a map from your collarbone, between your chest and down to your waist with his lips, wetting them with seawater and the taste of you. he tightened the grip on your thighs once you started squirming, letting his other hand travel just a bit higher to undo the strings of your bikini and let it fall down your legs.

"fuck, I can't wait to taste you." rafayel rasped, guiding your legs onto his shoulders. a bright blush erupted on your cheeks, and you covered your face with your hands, panicking slightly. it's not like this is the first time you've slept with him, though somehow the same feeling pooled in your tummy - a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. rafayel's passionate and upfront personality makes sex feel so much more like an adventure. kissing your inner thighs, he teased what was about to happen, making you cage him in as if it were a reflex. "tsk." he tutted, tapping his finger on the plump of your upper legs to warn you. "behave."

it's very unlike you to submit, but for him, you do. you arch your back, whine and moan as he parts your wet folds with his fingers and licks long stripes between them, stopping everytime once he reaches your clit - kissing, biting and sucking it. thinking about having the most sought-after man in linkon between your legs makes this even more intense, and you feel yourself getting wetter. rafayel notices this as well, pumping a finger into your hole to make more of your juices seep out. he just liked the taste of you too much, he can't help it.

"get on your stomach." he said, watching you turn over. luckily, you caught a short glimpse of his reddened ears and his wet chin. once you were positioned to his liking, he gave your ass a spank, watching it jiggle with delight. a yelp escaped you as he did it again, grabbing it forcefully and pulling you flush against his hardened cock. feeling him pulse through the fabric of his trunks had you mewling, grinding your backside against him feverishly. "impatient, huh?" he commented hotly, clumsily pulling his drooling cock out, "me too."

all this waiting had you dizzy. grunting, you reached back and took his cock in you hand, to which he let out a surprised gasp. you felt it oozing out pre and almost moaned at how turned on your lover was too. not-so gently, you guided him between your folds and pressed your ass to his pelvis, taking it all at once. feeling him fill you up so nicely, his tip prodding at your cervix and every twitch of his pale dick mingling into your walls made you moan deliciously.

"fuck, (y/n), you're driving me insane." he whined, pushing his hand to your upper back to press you down, rafayel started to languidly drag his cock along your walls. everyone knows this artist isn't known for his patience or for being monotone, so the rhythm faltered quickly, ending in him thrusting into you so hardly, your ass clapping against his thighs echoed through the beach. you feared the water god he talked about might feel the ripples on the sea, cursing you for being so naughty in front of his domain. you screamed out, helplessly scratching at the sand underneath you as some sort of anchor for your sanity, but you lost yourself to the pleasure the moment he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his chest against your back, freely moaning and cursing into your ear.

"princess, you feel so good. fuck, your pussy is creaming on my cock, it's gonna suck me dry this time, I swear." he babbles. rafayel talks a lot normally, but once he loses himself inside you, the words just flow out. "r-ra-af", you choke out between thrusts, "it feels so good, oh my god." your pussy flutters once he hits a certain spot, and he immediately notices - abusing it with no hold-backs. if there's anything he wants, it's for you to go above and beyond the lines of pleasure, so he starts circling your clit with three fingers quickly, drawing circle and infinity shapes just how you like it. with no warning, no build up, you fall apart quickly, screaming his name to the heavens while you feel your soul escaping your body with a mind shattering orgasm. after a few seconds, your body is drained off all strength, and you become a doll in his hands to fuck his cum into.

"(y/n), you should've seen your face right now, never saw something more beautiful. it was so hot, fuck-" he buries his head into your neck while he lazily thrusts into you a few times more, stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy you fear he might target your womb. he doesn't move, keeping his pelvis flush against your back while filling you up -

"fuck, it's yours. I'm yours. take it."

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel x reader smut #lads rafayel #lads x reader #lads rafayel x reader smut #lads x reader smut #lads rafayel x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x reader smut

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mikedfaist · 3 months

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love our famous reader but i’m thinking a lot lately about reader who isn’t famous but still has proximity to the industry. maybe she’s his makeup artist or hair stylist for a film… very sweet to think about them getting closer over the course of filming

i'm sorry i switched povs, i have been awake since 5:30 am, i am only human

She would have worked as one of their makeup artists for West Side Story, and let me tell you, every morning he would prance onto set in the hopes he would be first in her chair. She was the one putting his tattoos on every morning – sometimes dirt, sometimes blood – and all of the boys knew he had a crush. They’d exchange looks with each other when her back was turned, and Mike would glare daggers at them telling them to shut up.

He’d always run to her when he needed any touchups, or just simply wanted to talk. They’d talk about Steven, and which movie of his was her favorite.

“ET, of course,” she beams. “Can’t think of a sardine without thinking of that movie.”

A morning would come when one of the boys sat complacent in her chair, turned to look at her through the mirror. “Hey, so, do you have a boyfriend?”

Mike freezes in his spot.

“Who’s asking?” She chimes.

“Just’a question.” All the boys are looking at Mike, who refuses to look up from his phone.

“Nope,” she replies with a pop. “Again, who’s asking?” She’s joking; she’s not expecting an answer. She’s too busy rubbing mousse through Ben Cook’s curls, and not paying quite enough attention to her surroundings, until one of the boys speak up.

“Mike.”

The trailer fills with boyish yells, and Mike literally wants to disintegrate into his chair. He wonders if they really need him on set today. They can film Cool without him, right? Is it too late to recast?

It’s a little while later when Mike needs touchups, that he finds his way to you in your trailer. You’re sitting on the sofa, knees pulled up to your chest as you read a book.

“Michael, hello,” you sit up, closing your page around your finger. “What’s up?”

“Just, uh…dirt is coming off.”

“Say less, darling.” You stand up, and Mike sits in his usual seat. He can’t even look you in the eye. He also can’t seem to ease the burning from his cheeks after hearing such a term of endearment from you. “How’s it going out there?”

“Good, yeah, I think.” He adjusts himself in the chair; his back is killing him. “Should be done on time today.”

“Perfect. I love to hear it. “She dabs her brush onto her palette. “What’cha got going on later?”

“Nothing, I don’t think. Might just go home and rest up for tomorrow.”

“What about Friday? I know you aren’t on the call sheet. That’s a Sharks day.”

“Might do something with the boys? I don’t think we’ve talked about it.”

“When are we hanging out?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection of the mirror, and you reply with a shrug. “The boys were acting like you maybe wanted to hang out, but I couldn’t hear over their rambunctiousness.”

“I…” His mouth was dry. He noticed you stopped applying the makeup and held the brush precariously in your hand. “I didn’t tell them to say that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“You wanna hang out?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

He’d nodding his head before he manages words out. “Okay…” He blinks, scanning around the room, looking for nothing in particular. “Uh, Friday? When will you be out of here?”

“Who knows. 5 or 6, maybe? We’re doing rehearsals for I Feel Pretty. I shouldn’t be any later than 6.”

“Wanna aim for 7?”

She smiles, running some mousse through his hair. “It’s a date.”

#mike faist imagine #mike faist #mike faist x reader

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koimethehorizon · 1 year

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Fionna and Cake theory: Simon the Artist

Nothing like a good old creative panic attack.

Fionna and Cake good. Haven’t been excited about a show like this in a long time, though it being a part of Adventure Time does help quite a bit. I was holding on to some cautious optimism for the show when it was announced as yet another big IP series covering the multiverse (still waiting to groan at THAT scene where Prismo has to explain to us about there being infinite universes), but as usual, Adventure Time’s crew continues to surprise me with its creativity, humor, and thematic resonance.

The most striking part about Fionna and Cake so far is just how deliberately the show wants us to differentiate it from the original Adventure Time.

We’re getting shots where Simon pops an artery from his arm, a theme song that explicitly talks about suicidal ideation, discussions of rent and financial problems, and curses no longer disguised with AT’s usual dialogue. Adventure Time has always had violence, thematic density, and juvenile rating pushers, but they were always reserved at small points. Meanwhile, these are factors that are just casually shown and discussed in Fionna and Cake every 3 minutes or so. This is not an all-ages miniseries, it’s for young adults. (hint: this will be relevant later)

Let’s get right into it. This is much less a speculative lore theory and more on what thematic direction the story may be going.

Before we do, let’s get this out of the way first. This theory assumes that the current Fionna and Cake world is all a part of Simon’s head and not merely a separate multiverse, which… I’m certain is fact for the following reasons.

The immediately obvious piece is that Fionna and Cake was always the Ice King’s fanfiction. Now if you’re versed in AT’s continuity you’re probably going to be asking about the red light in Fionna and Cake + Fionna and… I’ve no answer for it unfortunately. It’ll probably be relevant later in the series and possibly age this post like milk but for now, we’re not here to focus on the how, but the why.

Second is that the intro and the ending of Ep 2 literally show Fionna’s world spilling right out of Simon’s head like an animated world out of a frozen brain. If that isn’t clear enough-

Didn't realize this until writing, but these glasses are just plastic made to look like Betty's

There’s no other explanation for this other than that this world is artificial or influenced by Simon in some sense. Fionna even specifies that the statue went under renovation 12 years ago, but nobody seems to know who it is. Considering how Finn looks in the episode, it’s likely that it’s been that long since Betty’s sacrifice in the finale.

With that out of the way, here it goes.

The reason Fionna and Cake exist in the first place is because the creators found Natasha Allegri’s genderswap designs charming and wanted an in-universe reason to use them the Ice King wanted to create trashy, wish fulfillment through art. It was a phase.

Definitely changed that image for publishing.

Simon can argue if they’re good or bad but it’s undeniably his art. It’s not just a portfolio he left behind in a closet, it’s an experience that was shared with a larger audience.

And even if wasn’t liked at first, the citizens of Ooo seemed to have come around to it. And some of them love it!

Whether Simon likes it or not, he has a fan base that is so endeared to the story he made all those years ago that they demand he makes more. Why let a good story, loved by many, go to rest when you still have some life and creativity left in you?

Can't move on in more ways than one.

Except, the problem is that Simon isn’t Ice King anymore. He’s aged out of it.

His real passion is history, he's an adult who who finds passion in the mundane and antiques from the past. And frankly, there isn’t much room for wish-fulfillment and fantasy anymore. Simon has responsibilities. He has a job and a daughter in a world that is moving faster than he can process.

And where Ice King wrote about looking for love, Simon has already had it.

And lost it. His mind isn’t focused on the rosiness of finding new love, it’s grieving the one he already thought was the one.

Wasn't he supposed to be good with kids?

Despite his new life experiences, all his peers seem to want from him is to make more of what they’re familiar with.

A story made from wants and wishes that he doesn’t even have anymore.

A story that was literally made by someone else at a different time. It’s a fiction he cannot connect to anymore, art that he’s embarrassed by. Yet also jealous of. Because at one point, the body Simon used to be in understood what exactly was missing from his life and could express that easily.

Seeing it again is like experiencing a retrospection of a cringey loser you don’t want to imagine having ever been. It’s not you anymore, and you don’t want to be reminded of that.

Because despite him having a new creative passion, no one seems to care about that. All they want is Fionna and Cake. And what is more lonely than other people misunderstanding what you’re trying to express?

If I failed to make it clear somehow, my theory is that: Simon’s relationship with Fionna and Cake is a metaphor for creators growing out of their art. And this new Fionna and Cake world is still comfort art born out of Simon’s current desires and perceptions.

The snippet subtitles this “child holding a phone”. I guess I’m wrong. Essay over.

Episode 1 and 2 both have direct parallels with each other. They’re both about a protagonist who are feeling displaced from their world, living a phase of losing a significant other, leaving a thankless job, wearing a mask of stability in front of the people they care for, seeking a guru at the heart of the forest, and concluding that they no longer belong in their current world.

But more importantly, Fionna and Cake (the characters, the world, and the show) are no longer for an all-ages crowd. Fionna and Cake now feature young adults, curses, gore, alcohol, partial nudity, financial issues, morning routines, mid-life crisis, and overt suicidal ideation. These are the feelings that Simon relates to and possibly desires to express through art. Thus, his story and our new miniseries have warped that way.

Am I overthinking this? No. How dare you assume that.

Is equating the unconscious writings of his dementia-ridden self to Simon as his younger self seem a bit odd? ….Kinda. Again, it’s not the how but the why that matters in this case. I'm NOT crazy, I have proof that there is some acknowledgment of this directly in the show.

Rewatch the bar scene and apply this reading of the episode to what Simon says there:

“Your old stuff, Fionna and Cake, honest to glob my man, is an inspiration to me.”

“My old stuff, I don’t really want to talk about my old stuff…”

“Why not? You should be proud! You wrote an entire extended universe in a fugue state if you think about it.”

"Simon cringes"

If you have ever shared art with a group of people in the past, you’ve had this conversation.

Not likely, not possibly, no perhapses. You HAVE.

And Fionna and Cake being an epilogue to a massive award-winning, near-decade-spanning, cultural sensation 5 years after it ended, might result in its creators feeling very retrospective about what audiences want from them now.

And how difficult it’s going to be to tell new experiences and tones from what’s come before. Also, come on. “Extended Universe?” That doesn’t sound like Fionna and Cake. That sounds a lot like something else.

Again, seems bad with this kid.

One of the more profound shots in the main trailer for the show features the inconspicuously Finn-like kid crouching at her Fionna and Cake book in Simon’s trash. I believe this character is going to have a major role in two ways. Convincing Simon to be proud of what he’s accomplished and/or embracing that Simon wants to move away from his original work in order to create something new, or perhaps more likely, reinvent Fionna and Cake into what Simon relates to now.

We’ll just have to see what Simon thinks of his new Fionna next week.

PS. Talking as a fan now, WHAT IS UP WITH THE 1000+ TREEHOUSE IN THE INTRO?!!! ARE WE REVISITING THIS TIMELINE AGAIN?

SOMEONE TELL ME NOW!!!

#television #adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #fionna campbell #animation #speculation #theories #fan theory #character analysis #discussion #adventure time spoilers #fionna and cake spoilers

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earlysunshines · 1 year

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lip to lip

chou tzuyu x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: after studying for a while you deserve a reward, no?

wc: 2.6k

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬

a/n: my baby my baby

tzuyu’s hand is twined with yours as you reach your house.

your girlfriend stares at the house in front of her, and an unexpected nervousness creeps over you. this is the first time tzuyu had ever been to your house, despite being with her for two months now, and you’re feeling a little insecure thinking about your average looking house compared to tzuyu’s

tzuyu gazes at your house, awe etching into her features as she looks at the vast variety of plants that decorate the exterior; the plants are beautiful and bright in the afternoon glow that emphasizes the green of their leaves. another feature that tzuyu notices is the dark blue bike locked up near the door, just against the wooden exterior—she guesses that it’s the same bike you had rode to her house to give her pastries a month ago.

your house fits the neighborhood well—it's comforting and quiet. it really seems like a home.

“it’s um, it’s not much probably, compared to your place…” you mumble timidly as you look at her, fiddling with the keys in your pocket.

“no,” tzuyu starts, “it’s beautiful. your house is really pretty.” she assures. you feel her thumb rub your hand softly and it makes you smile, easing your worries.

you take out the keys in your pocket and it creates a jingle noise from the contact of your keychains clattering with your house keys. the keys in your hand unlock the front door, then the two of you walk in, taking off your shoes and putting them on the wooden shoe rack inside.

compared to tzuyu’s large, eye-catching home, your place was a bit smaller. it was a two-floor house that had two bathrooms—one small and one larger with a shower and bathtub. it also included two bedrooms and one was bigger, your grandparents shared that room. the first floor also had a simple living room in the same area as the kitchen and small dining table. it was well-fitting for the three of you, and that cat that occasionally visited.

tzuyu examines the living room, it’s the first room she sees when she enters the house and it’s very cozy. the flatscreen tv is pretty mediocre in size, not too big and bulky, but not too small, and there’s a small coffee table and a soft looking brown couch behind it as well. one thing that stands out to tzuyu in the living room are small portraits of you; ranging from baby you to secondary school pictures of you posing with a swim trophy. you were adorable, you still are.

your cheeks flush when you catch what she’s eyeing, and you’re quick to direct her attention to something else.

“um, let’s go upstairs, my uh, my room is there.”

“you were cute as a kid.” tzuyu laughs, exchanging glances between the picture of you from middle school to the rose tinted face in front of her. you laugh and shake your head,

“i was silly looking.” you sigh.

“you’re still silly looking.” tzuyu teases, “and cute.”

you roll your eyes and pull at her hand, leading her upstairs and to your room.

when tzuyu enters your room, she’s hit with the scent of vanilla and almonds coming from a diffuser; the room smells just like you. the room is organized and clean for the most part, with the exception of the pens that are messily spilled over your desk and the misplaced pillow on our bed—which she doesn’t mind or really care about at all.

there are also a couple of posters on your wall, some have a band or artist on it, and some are just pleasing artworks from a variety of magazines. it really reflects your interests and personalities. tzuyu finds it endearing.

you set your bag down next to your bed and pull out a chair for tzuyu, motioning for her to sit.

“here. i need to get a seat so we can study together, be right back.” you say with a smile before walking out the bedroom.

tzuyu takes this time to analyze the small trinkets on your desk: there’s some small plastic toys from old animated tv shows and movies on your desk, they’re all the size of a finger nail and lined up for display. stick notes also occupy your desk with little notes to yourself, ranging from simple reminders to broken sentences with no context—tzuyu assumes that you had started writing something and got distracted in the process.

“hi, i’m back.” you beam as you hold a stool in your hands and set it down next to your desk.

“is that comfortable for you?” tzuyu questions, looking at how it lacks support for your back.

you nod and respond, “yeah, not a problem.” as you pull out the books and notes from your school bag, setting them on your desk. before you start working, there’s a sudden discomfort from the bulky uniform you wear.

“i think i’m going to change,” you begin, “would you like to uh, would you like one of my shirts or hoodies? the uniforms are annoying to wear outside of school.” and your face flushes from your own suggestion.

the blush on your cheeks is contagious and spreads to tzuyu’s, who nods shyly at your offering.

you smile and walk over to your closet, pulling out the first two shirts you see and holding them up beside you.

“which one do you want? i have more options and you’re welcome to, y’know, browse through my closet if you want something else…” you trail off, and tzuyu giggles at the two short sleeved shirts you hold onto.

one of them has some sort of tamagotchi character on it, and the color of the shirt itself is an orangish-yellow shade. the other shirt is a dark green color, almost sage green, but a little more unsaturated and forest like. it has three fruits lined up in a horizontal row: a banana, a strawberry, and an orange, which each have a small little doodled face on them. tzuyu thinks both options are cute, childish, and comfy looking.

“i’m fine with either.” tzuyu shrugs, unable to decide.

“well,” you look at the two shirts carefully, even furrowing your brows as you examine them for whatever reason. you put one of the shirts down, now you hold up the dark green shirt and have the yellow one bunched up in your hand. “i think you’d look lovely in this one.” you admit while handing tzuyu the shirt with fruits on it.

tzuyu giggles at your remark and nods. “if you think that then i’ll wear it.”

“i think you’d look good in anything of mine, to be honest.”

you earn an eye roll and a laugh from that comment, warms your heart.

the two of you end up studying for an hour and a half.

during those ninety minutes, there’s a lot of groans coming from you as you struggle with the vocabulary of your language class, and tzuyu seems to huff here and there when dealing with math. it has you snickering at each other in between note taking and scribbling equations, which eases the frustration that started to build up in the both of you.

there’s a moment where tzuyu is completely locked in. her brows are furrowed and she’s biting her lip slightly as she writes. she uses the pencil in her hand to jot down a flow of numbers, dashes, signs, and whatever else that you don’t really want to analyze or think of at the moment because math is not your strong suit.

she’s in your yellow shirt that was given to you last christmas, which sits a little loose on her body since it’s oversized on you yourself, and you have a larger, taller frame compared to your girlfriend. you notice that some strands of her hair fall out of her ponytail, and the color of her brown hair is much more prominent under the glow of the light, yellow rays coming from the desk lamp. her face also seems to shine from the light of the desk lamp, and it highlights the soft slope of her nose, as well the pink of her lips. her lips look so soft, so kissable.

tzuyu looks adorable like that.

“is there something on my face?” tzuyu asks, snapping you out of your trance.

you realize that you had been staring. your chin was rested on your knuckles and your face was basically being held up by your arm on the desk.

you gape at her a little more, bolder and with intent now. “you’re pretty.”

tzuyu feels flustered under your gaze, despite you looking a little ridiculous as well as unserious in that adorable childish t-shirt.

she’s only able to laugh at your comment, and it reveals your favorite dimples. she shakes her head and shifts her look back to the paper in front of her, fiddling with her pencil as the smile on your lips grows.

“are you finished with your homework?” you question as you put an arm up in the air, stretching.

“i just have this one question, why?”

“my grandparents are back in-” you check the time on your phone, “-less than an hour, we could do something? watch a movie or just relax, if you’d like.”

tzuyu smiles and sets her pencil down, then moves over quickly to peck your lips.

“i’d love that.” she says, “let me finish this, i’ll be quick.”

you nod with a big grin spread across your face.

as tzuyu finishes up the problem, you put your notebook and folder into your schoolbag, then hang the backpack on the hook that’s stuck on your wall. when you’re back at your desk with tzuyu, you lay your chin on her shoulder and the faint scent of her rosy perfume is noticeable. it smells wonderful.

tzuyu puts her pencil down a minute later, turning her head and placing a shy peck on your forehead.

“done.”

“yay.” you mumble quietly as you pull away from her shoulder. your girlfriend laughs at your response and smiles sweetly.

something in the air shifts and one glance at tzuyu has you feeling a bit more needy, a bit hungry almost. her lips acquire your attention and you’re blatantly staring at them—which has tzuyu turning her head in confusion.

“is there something on my-“

“you look really, really good.” you almost breathe out, looking back at her in the eye. tzuyu raises her brows in surprise and she’s flustered (again) to say the least.

you look at her lips again, then her eyes, then back to her lips. your eyes linger on the inviting feature.

“can i kiss you?” you ask, making eye contact with her again. tzuyu nods with a glow of red on her cheeks.

you smile and cup her cheek, leaning closer and pressing a soft, tender kiss on her lips.

tzuyu hums in satisfaction as you deepen the kiss. your head turns for better access and your lips connect for longer periods of time, both pairs not wanting to part, as if they were magnets with opposite forces.

you two kiss a little longer, it’s not rushed and instead it’s soft, sweet, and passionate.

your girlfriend pulls away for a brief moment and her lips brush against yours, still lingering.

“can we move to your bed?” she asks, breath warm against you.

“yeah,” you respond.

the two of you get up, still close together. your lips meet again as you stand up and blindly move towards your full-sized bed. when your calf hits the mattress you sit down slowly, tzuyu leaning down a bit to keep her lips on yours.

you part for a brief moment and tzuyu whines in response—it makes you laugh.

“do you want to sit on my lap?” you suggest, “i think it’d be more comfortable.”

your proposal catches her off guard, makes her whole body burn and pupils dilate. tzuyu hesitates before climbing onto your lap, settling herself gently as you place your hands on her hips—her brain stops working for a second.

the two of you smile, faces inches apart as you study each other’s features. tzuyu notices that your lips are a darker in color now and just barely puffy from how she had been kissing them. your pupils are wide, practically taking over your whole eye as you stare at her with a deep longing.

your girlfriend cups your burning cheek and rubs it with her thumb softly before sliding her arms around your neck.

“you’re so cute, y/n.” she mumbles against your lips before kissing you again, almost stealing the oxygen from your lungs.

her lips melt into yours as they make contact again, and your hand subconsciously moves to the edge of your shirt that she wore, moving it up slightly and slipping your fingers under the cotton material to brush your fingertips against her skin.

the feel of your cold fingers on her soft, delicate skin sends shivers down her spine, making her groan softly into your mouth. her lips part slightly, which gives you the opportunity to slide your tongue against her lip. she gives you access by opening her mouth a little more, letting you explore the new territory with your tongue. your tongues swirl against each other which earns small hums of delight as well as breathy noises from the two of you.

you’ve kissed tzuyu multiple times: on the cheek before classes, pecks in a more private setting, and on her hand as you walked her back home—but never like this.

the intimacy of kissing this much and for this long was new to the two of you. the pace of which you made out had increased as the two of you adapted to the overwhelming feeling of nervousness and added pleasure, it was new and the two of you grew fond of it quickly with each second that passed by.

the pace slows down as you slip your tongue back out, kissing her slowly on the lips again. you slide your hands back down to hold her gently by the waist and make the move to stand up, which has tzuyu wrapping her legs around your own waist.

you continue to kiss her even as you stand, turn around, and set her down—only parting when she’s fully set on your bed so you can look at her flushed cheeks and darkened pupils.

“i really like kissing you, tzuyu. it’s really nice.” you say breathlessly.

tzuyu laughs lightly at your adorable words. “i like it too.” she responds, sliding her hand through your hair and to the back of your neck. she rubs against the nape of your neck lightly and twists some of your hair around her finger before smiling again. “let’s do this more often.”

“yeah.” you say, laughing lightly before meeting her delicate lips again.

tzuyu smiles into the kiss, so do you, and it goes on again for a while—just you and tzuyu kissing and savoring each other with a new feeling that flows through your bodies.

you almost bite tzuyu’s lips when you hear a loud voice coming from downstairs. you flinch and pull away quickly, so does your girlfriend.

“y/n! we’re home! can you help bring the groceries inside?” your grandpa yells from downstairs.

“yeah! be there in a minute!” you respond, raising your voice.

you turn back to the girl under you and trapped between your hands, she’s giggling at you with her hands still cupping your face.

tzuyu gazes at you for a few seconds before speaking softly. “you should probably go help them out.”

“yeah.” you sigh, “one more?”

tzuyu nods happily and you press one more long, tender kiss on her lips.

“y/n!” your grandpa calls out again, and you almost fall on tzuyu from the sudden jolt of surprise (again).

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #chou tzuyu #tzuyu x reader #twice tzuyu #twice fluff #tzuyu fluff

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch. III

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: 8-year age gap, big flashback of bromance between Tae and JK, slight drunkenness, family drama in-laws, imperfect relationship with parents, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, needy kook 😶

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: chapter 3 is here! I know its so short 😩 but I promise it sets up the next chapters really well! Also, I wanted to get into jk's background a little this time, his undergrad days, and Taehyung of course. It's a big leap but they're older now so...meh. Tysm for everyone's patience! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

There weren’t many people Jungkook envied in his life. He was 34 years old, had top-notch experience as an economist within the business and legal sphere, and taught at one of the finest universities in South Korea. He also earned his Ph.D by the time he hit 30, which was undoubtedly the cherry on top.

But if there was one person who could shake the ground from under his feet it would be Kim Taehyung.

The pair met during undergrad through mutual friends. Jungkook had been invited to an off-campus party his first year and Taehyung was an unexpected third party. The man was so put together that it was as if Michelangelo himself reached down and sculpted him from the clay.

16 years ago

“Hi,” a low, baritone voice rumbles. “I’m Taehyung.” He sticks his hand out, waiting for a shake. He’s a little timid but mostly stands upright with a few pieces of his caramel hair falling over his eyes.

Jungkook chuckles at Taehyung’s stark formality. “What’s up, man!” He slaps Taehyung’s hand casually. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung reeks of sophistication and has the most annoyingly gorgeous face. His boxy grin could charm the pants off anyone who was two feet from him. Hell, even Jungkook feels a little starstruck by him.

Though barely acquaintances, it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to realize they are on opposite ends of the same stick.

Taehyung comes from a wealthy upper-class family. They have four mansions plus a beach house. Every Christmas, he goes to Italy to visit his aunt and uncle. For his 18th birthday, Taehyung got a brand-new Corvette, red with black rims. Everyone wants to be him…everyone wants a piece of Kim Taehyung.

But underneath the surface of his flashy lifestyle is something oddly endearing. Jungkook can’t quite put his finger on it but as the night goes on, he enjoys the man’s company. Taehyung seems to latch onto him as well which shocks both of them to the core.

“Seriously hyung,” Jungkook slurrs. “I don’t know why you’re hanging around me this whole night when you could be getting off with one of the fifty girls who’ve come up to you. Are you playing it cool are you really a loner or something?”

Taehyung snatches the beer bottle from the younger’s hand. “That’s enough drinking for one night Jungkook. You’re about to pass out, I can tell.”

“I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” Jungkook grabs the bottle back, taking a big slug before wiping his mouth off with his arm. “Something to know about me Taetae. I live by the work hard, play hard kinda philosophy.”

Taehyung cringes at the pet name but chalks it up to Jungkook being off his rocker. “That’s the type of philosophy that’s gotten my family to spend millions on useless crap. It’s fun for a while but it never lasts. I don’t recommend it Jungkook.”

Jungkook snorts. “So you are a loner huh? Because my parents have been stuck in the same loop for years. All work, no play. It’s caused them both to lose every hair on their head. Do you wanna lose your hair by the time you’re 45 Tae? I wouldn’t think so with those luscious locks of yours. Bet some chick would love to yank on them while–”

“I’m not a loner.” Taehyung interrupts, feeling a surge of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. He knows the looks people shot at him and while he didn’t entirely hate it, it always took more than it gave. All he wanted in those moments was to retreat into himself with his paints. Taehyung loved art and like many, found it therapeutic. “I’m not a loner,” he repeats. “I’m just not interested.”

“Sure you’re not buddy.” Jungkook gives a nod but remains largely unconvinced. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why you hanging around me? I’m not that cool ‘cause if I weren’t here, I’d be at the library right now with my nose in the books. Economics doesn’t slap all the time you know.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment before answering.

“I feel like a normal person with you," he starts. "Everyone looks at me like I’m some spoiled golden boy who they can get a free ticket of off if they talk sweet. And yeah, I’m aware of the advantages I’ve had…the struggles most people have that I don’t. But I’m still a real person that wants what most people do...purpose, belonging, someone that just gets them.”

Taehyung takes a breath before continuing.

"I really fucking love painting. It’s my heartbeat honest to god and I’m tired of being looked at as merely an object of someone’s unfulfilled wishes and desires. I like that I don’t need to worry about that with you. I think...we come from different backgrounds but we’re cut from the same cloth Jungkookie. Oh, are you-are you crying?”

“Fucking beautiful Taetae. You’re straight out of Vanity Fair you know that? I’m more of a Forbes magazine guy myself though.”

Taehyung throws Jungkook a puzzled look. Is he being condescending or is this just the booze talking?

“‘Cause I’m a small-town boy with great ambition, intelligence, and gall? We covered this earlier man, keep up!” Jungkook emphasizes his words, hands flying about.

“Right,” Taehyung joins in, recalling the conversation. “You’re father is an analyst for the city and your mom’s an accountant. They want you to get a job nearby after graduation but you don’t want to because–“

“Because it’s too small, boring, set in its traditional ways, and I for one am not fucking with it.” Jungkook sends Taehyung a lopsided grin. “You got a pretty good memory man. Maybe we can be friends after all.”

“I’m so glad,” Taehyung drawls, a slight trace of sarcasm. Jungkook doesn’t notice, however, too busy staring at the strobe lights dancing across the ceiling.

“Hey!” he suddenly pipes up, eyes wider than before. "What are you doing next Friday?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I got this boring family reunion to go to. Happens every year. I don’t wanna go but my parents force me to. You wanna come?”

Taehyung hesitates. “A family reunion? I know I said we’re cut from the same cloth, but we’re not…related Jungkook.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll ask my parents if I can bring a friend. They won’t give a shit as long as I’m there. Also, I heard from my brother that Ha-Yun’s gonna be there.”

“And Ha-Yun is…?”

“Some girl that my parents want to set me up with. Family friend’s daughter. I went to high school with her.”

“So you think that if I’m there I can be your right-hand man or something? Make you look good in front of your future wife?”

“Fuck no. I’m hoping she’ll go to you instead.” Jungkook laughs when he sees the color draining from Taehyung’s face. “It’s nothing against her bro. She isn’t weird or anything. I say this lightly but, I just don’t wanna go out with her and she’s not my type.”

“I’ll think about clearing my schedule for this but I’m not being your meat on a stick,” Taehyung seethes. “But since we’re on this topic, what is your type?”

“Mm, not sure.” Jungkook shrugs. “Someone who’s unexpecting I guess. Like you shouldn’t be together because it's outside of the usual. But you can’t help it. You gotta have this person or it’s over. What about you?”

“Easy,” Taehyung mutters. “I like artists.”

“Artists huh? Like you? Well, I guess I can understand.” Jungkook smirks before leaning his head back against the couch. “One day, I’ll find an artist for you Tae. I promise.”

Oh, the irony.

present

“Jungkook, stop! I need to get up.” You struggle in his arms, biting back a grin. Jungkook has you in a locked position. His hard chest presses close against your back and his leg hugs your body.

“Mm,” he groans. “It’s not time yet.”

“Yes, it is. Also, you’re nearly suffocating me.”You wiggle your body but to no avail. Your husband always tends to get needier as the school year approaches.

"I just don't want you out of my arms yet. Is that a crime now?"

No. No it's not, you sigh to yourself. By this time next week, you’ll be waking up to an empty bed. "Okay." You glance at the alarm clock. "Ten minutes and then I really need to get ready for work."

"Fifteen," Jungkook mumbles.

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"No. It's twelve or I'm going now." Jungkook gives a cute grunt and tightens his grip. He really doesn't want you to leave this morning.

"Fine," he says. "Twelve. But we're snuggling again tonight."

"Jungkook. Can't. Breathe." Being spooned by your husband is nice but this isn't spooning anymore. He's completely cacooning himself over you. As soon you feel him shift his weight off you, hand loosening from your waist, your ribs hum in relief.

After what seems like three minutes of complete silence you decide to bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind for the last couple of days.

"Um Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"When we went to get ice cream the other night. There was something that happened...to you." You're uneasy bringing it up but you can't shake your concern. When Jungkook saw the little girl with her dad, he went into a bit of a trance. He didn't talk, didn't move, and was pretty numb to your presence all together.

"Oh god," Jungkook groans. "I was hoping you didn't notice but you're my wife so I guess it's fine."

Crap. Was this a sore subject for him? You twist your head over your shoulder, just enough for your ear to be near his lips. You're in high alert now. "Why weren't you hoping I noticed?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's embarrassing." Jungkook smacks his lips before continuing. "But do we really have to talk about it? Spilling ice cream on my shirt at 34 isn't something I really wanna relive through early morning conversations."

Oh he thinks....of course he thinks that's what you're refering to.

"I'm not talking about you being clumsy Jungkook. I'm talking about the little girl with the ribbons. When she was with her dad, you kinda went a little frozen."

Jungkook doesn't reply immediately so you prod him a little. "I just wanna know if everything was alright. I suppose with our current situation I get it if it hit you in a sort of way. Good or bad, whatever the feeling was, you can tell–"

"They seemed happy is all," he croaks, voice dropping an octave. "The kind of happy that makes someone's entire soul stop, I guess. Like they had something special that no one else could. Does that make sense?"

If you look down you think you'll see goosebumps. The words coming from your husband's mouth are, at most, mumbles but they aren't coming from a place of unease or hesitation. Instead they allude to something warm, wholesome, and new.

"Yeah of course, it makes perfect sense. I had a similar experience when I met Si-woo. The way his face light up when he saw his mom comforted me but I felt envious too. Is that wrong of me?"

"Not at all. I think it's a natural response when you see something you want but don't currently have. You know, there was one thing that popped in my thoughts while I watched that father and his daughter..."

"Hm?"

"I thought, maybe I'll be happy too. If we actually have a kid, we'll be happy together like them or something." Yawning, he continues. "I dunno, honey. Kinda sleepy still so if I fall asleep I love you and I hope work goes well. But we can keep talking if you want."

You untuck your hand from under your head and close it over your husband's arm; the one draped around your waist.

Hope. Real hope.

"Dammit why won't you open?!" Jungkook bangs the jar on the side of the kitchen counter. He's been trying to get it open for the last five minutes. With you at work, it's his turn to prepare dinner.

"Take a breath kid," Yoongi says from the other line of the phone.

Jungkook ignores him of course, continuing beat the shit out of the jar in his hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You stupid jar!"

"Kid!" Yoongi tries again, this time grumbling. "Stop doing that and go get a butter knife or something to hit the side of the lid with. It'll pop right off and I won't sue you for making me go deaf."

"Hyung–"

"Oh I thought you didn't call anyone that anymore. Now that you're a real boy and all. With big boy things." Jungkook shakes his head, hearing the older man snort through the speaker.

"You been talking to Taehyung?" That big mouth, he's become as bad as Jimin. What happened to the more reserved Tae he met in undergrad. He likes him better than this new, cocky mf.

"He may have slipped out a thing or two. But I'm glad to see you're still scared shitless of me that you'll keep calling me hyung."

Jungkook slams the jar on the counter, having enough. "Why the fuck did you call hyung? Can't you tell I'm a little busy right now."

Yoongi chuckles. "Alright I'll stop picking on you. I need a favor. The wife and I want to go out just the two of this weekend. I know you got your professor duties starting but would you and __ be willing to look after our gremlins for a couple hours Saturday?"

"Uh–I'm gonna have to talk to __ about this but maybe?" You and him have babysat for Yoongi's twins a handful of times before. They get a little rowdy but it's been mostly fine. Jungkook's not sure if either of you have the energy or time this weekend though. "I thought you usually got a babysitter."

"Yeah, usually but they're unable to this weekend. I'm hoping this time the babysitter will be you and __. We won't be long but we'd really appreciate it if you guys could do this for us. Could you maybe let me know by Thursday if you can?" Yoongi waits for an answer.

"Yeah alright," Jungkook finally responds. "I'll talk to __ about it when she gets home. No promises though." Jungkook wipes the sweat from his brow. It was a little hot in the kitchen. "Listen Yoongi, I gotta get back to prepping dinner but thanks for that tip about opening the–"

"Jungkook! Hello?" A familiar but muffled voice hollers from the front door. "Are you home?" The door bell is pressed continually without rest.

"Uh my ears," Yoongi pipes. "Who the hell is at your door?"

Jungkook walks towards the front of the house, peaking out the window. What the fuck are those two doing here? "Damn it, I gotta go hyung. My parents have decided to pay an unexpected visit." Before Yoongi has time to reply, Jungkook ends the call.

fuckfuckfuckfuck, he repeats under his breath. Could they not have called beforehand? It's a friggen' ten hour drive. Did someone die or something? Why are they here?

"We can hear you Kookie," Jungkook's mother coos in a sing-songy tone. "No one died. We just wanted to see you and __."

Jungkook opens the front door, not even caring if his face shows he's pissed off. "Mother it'd be nicer if you, I don't know. Planned these things?!"

"I told you," Jungkook's father grippes. "I told you woman, didn't I? We should have called. You never listen to me!"

"Oh shut up you goat," Jungkook's mother pushes her way through the door and into the house. "My son loves me and he's happy to see me." She wraps her arms around Jungkook's waist and presses her cheek against his arm.

"Yeah," his father steps in the house. "He's just jumping with joy with that silly apron on. C'mon, he was obviously in the middle of something. Ugh I'm sorry son. Your mother is, well, you know how she is." He slips out of his shoes and shuffles to the kitchen. "Whatcha cooking anyway? Something good I bet."

Jungkook rubs his face in agitation. __ is not gonna like coming home to his parents running around the house.

"You're not mad at me are you?" His mother lifts her chin, big doe eyes just like his own. "We just missed you and we figured you'll be busy with teaching soon so...we just decided to drive down last night."

Trying to smile, Jungkook brings his arm around her. "No, no I'm not mad. I'm glad to see you and __ will be too."

"Jungkook, why the hell are your parents here?" You force yourself to keep a low voice. Your in-laws were steps away and they had the sharpest pair of ears you knew. You didn't want them to hear a single beat.

Your husband pulls at his hair, pacing small circles around the bedroom. "Trust me, I didn't invite them. They just showed up. I don't even know why they're here besides they just wanted to. I'm really sorry."

You yank your silk blouse over your head, tossing it in the hamper. "I love your parents but you're gonna need to tell them this can't be happening." You change into a basic t-shirt and jeans. "I know they're probably a little lonely with you and your brother so far away but I'd be a far better host with some pre-warnings."

"I know. Mom's just so-" Jungkook pauses, scratching his head. "Persistant...and dad will do whatever she wants."

"Look I get it. Saying no is hard when they just want to see us. But what if we had something going on tonight?"

"You're right, you're right," he sighs. "I'll try bringing it up to them."

"Anything else new happen while I was gone?" You mean it as a joke. You really do. Jungkook gives you a look that says yes though. Excellent.

"Well, uh...Yoongi hyung asked if we could babysit Saturday. Him and the Mrs want to go out but thier regular babysitter isn't available that night."

Groaning, your shoulders slope down. "Wha–uh at this rate why the hell not? I was just looking for more things to do."

"Honey," Jungkook makes his way over to you. "We don't have to if–"

"You guys still in there?!" Jungkook's mother intrudes, pounding on the door. "You better not be having coitus! Though grandchildren would be nice if that were to ever be in the cards."

"Coitus?" You mouth silently. Jungkook's parents were a little old fashioned sure but who the heck still says coitus?

"We'll be out in a second. Can you and dad set the table?" Jungkook responds, girmacing at his mothers word choice.

"Okay but wrap it up in there. I'm only here for two days. I wanna see my beautiful daughter in-law!"

You and Jungkook immediately exchange a slack-jawed expression. "What?" With the door thrown open, your husband's eyeborws furrow. "Mom you can't be serious."

"Oh don't look so worried!" The older woman lets out a restrained chuckle. "We're not gonna stay in the house with you or anything. We got a hotel. But ten hours is a long drive and I really wanted to see you. Your father and I don't hear from you often and you didn't come to the last family reunion. What do you expect us to do? Just not see our son?"

"Please don't say it like that Mom," Jungkook combs his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding together. "You know that __ and I are–"

"Always happy to see you!" You rush next to your husband who's startled by your sudden change in demeanor. "Jungkook's just been a little anxious about returning to the university. But we'd love to spend a couple to days with you and dad. Let's start with dinner!"

You usher everyone down the hall and towards the dining room. Jungkook's mother is filled to the brim with joy while your husband slightly, actually very, concerned.

A/N: Apologies for any editing errors! Also close to adding some spicy stuff but we gonna wait on that a little longer 😉 Lmk what you think and if you wanna join taglist comment or send an ask. Thanks!! 😙💗

Masterlist

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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womenloverlmao · 2 months

Text

Your Loser

Charlie Walker x GN! Reader

Warnings: None? Maybe some cursing?

In which the reader braids Charlie's hair

0.6K words

You were forcing your boyfriend to listen to your music while cuddling, which wasn’t a very uncommon experience in your relationship. You loved each other to bits and pieces, but you two could never seem to agree on any media type. You watched different movies, had different views on streaming, and could never agree on music.

“Can we not listen to Billy Joel?” He whines into your chest. His head was there, and you had a leg thrown over his hip.

“Again, I don’t even know what you have against him. He’s like… one of the most amazing artists in the world. You can’t even talk, you listen to Weezer and shit like that.”

He scoffs. “I didn’t say anything about how amazing he is or not, just asked if we could stop listening to him.”

You sighed, but you let up. You got up, and then he whined. “You’re being a baby,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll be back in a second, you were the one who wanted to listen to something else.”

Taking the CD out, you grabbed another one. Of course, you had to choose The Beatles. That was one of them that he could obviously tolerate although he didn’t particularly like it. Occasionally, he would even sing along. You made it play I wanna hold your hand, which was your favorite.

When you turned around and saw him sprawled out on your bed, you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t deny that this was your favorite sight, no matter how silly it seemed. You sat on the edge of the bed, and he looked over at you confused. “Come sit,” you patted between your legs.

“Why?”

“Just listen, dumbass-” You said. He rolled his eyes, before getting the stool you had for your vanity and placing it between your legs, looking up at you as he sat down. “Other way.”

He looked more confused but did so; you brushed out his hair with your fingers. “Is this what you wanted?” He asks.

“Partially, just hold still,” you say. He did listen to you, despite not knowing what you were doing.

You divided it into three strands, before methodically twisting them together. It was gonna be a small braid, but it was fun to do anyway. Once you finished, he asked, “Did you just braid my hair?”

“No, I actually just left it alone,” you said sarcastically. You undid it, before doing it again. You did that a few times, and you knew he liked it even if he was pretending he didn't.

“Why did we have to move for this?” He groaned.

“Because,” you responded. You looked it over, before undoing it again. “I think I’m gonna give you two.”

He whined. “I just wanna cuddle, though…”

You sighed. “If I let you pick the music after this, will you let me finish?”

Safe to say he shut up after that.

You went back to twisting the strands together, and he obviously enjoyed the little moment despite the complaints. He enjoyed it even more than you did, as you continued your movements before tying it up and doing the same with the other side.

After that, he decided he would leave the music as it was. To be honest, Weezer, Nirvana, or other things he listened to weren’t exactly songs to cuddle to. Even though he thought it was kind of stupid, he let Meet the Beatles continue to play as he laid down with you.

“You look pretty,” you told him as you looked over what you did. He turned pink, and hid his face in your chest again.

“‘M not pretty,” he says.

“Stop pretending to be a teenage dirtbag for two seconds, you’re pretty, you loser,” you say to him. You called him a loser a lot, but he knew it was endearing. He was your loser, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“I love you,” he mumbled into you.

“I know, baby. I love you too.”

#rory culkin #charlie walker #scream four #charlie walker x reader #rory culkin characters #scream four x reader #ghostface x reader'#hes so bbg

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rinstrumental · 1 year

Text

ellie gf headcanons

# modern au. im in luv with her. this is so long oh my god its an illness

did karate from 1st grade all the way up to high school and basically considers herself your bodyguard

immediately offers you her hoodie without a second thought when you show the slightest signs of being cold. she lets you keep it too, of course. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t ???!!!!

she needs either your hands on her or her hands on you at all times. sosososo touchy and BIG on pda her kisses are inescapable. constantly has an arm around you or resting on your waist… the whole world needs to know. she’s actually insufferable i’m sorry but in the most endearing way ever how can you resist

“would you still love me if i was a ____???” she wants a serious answer too

genuinely thinks ur the prettiest person alive. which is kind of the bare minimum but she worships you truly

happy with any sort of date as long as it’s with you. fancy dinner? this is the only reason she keeps a suit and tie. staying in? what movie do you want, babe? running errands? she’s already waiting for you in the car!!!

speaking of cars she drives an old station wagon which used to be joel’s. ellie used to moan about how lame it was until you said that the back was perfect for sitting together during camping or stargazing…. and other activities too ;) wink wonk

gets flustered when she makes you flustered because you’re telling her that SHE did that?? she made u nervous??? shit man now shes blushing too

her love language is gifts she loves to spoil you with your favourite snacks and soft toys and even homemade gifts. she just wants you to see her in your room and have her on your mind as much as you’re in hers!!

it’s no secret that she’s an artist and it’s also no secret that her favourite subject to draw is youuu!!! her favourite thing to do is just have you sit across from her and draw what she sees

of course naturally that means she takes tons of pictures of you… to study for her drawings… and keep in her special photo album of you… and to look at when she misses you. Ofc

makes fun of you/teases you sometimes. she can be a mean bitch to other people but she would never actually hurt your feelings and you know that

ellie hates goodbyes. even if it’s after spending a full day together and you’re going to see her soon anyways… i just know she’s the kind of person who feels empty after hanging out with someone.

calls and texts about everything… and it’s always so cute :( she definitely has autocaps on

ellie: I drew you again!!

ellie: Hey babe I saw this funny bird it reminded me of u

ellie: I miss you so much. When can I see you again?

ellie: These cats r like us lol

keeps a pet gecko or something like that for sure. it’s you guys’ baby

her top two movie genres are horror and romance after that. the only reason romance is that high up is because it reminds her of you

does stupid romcom shit like hold a boombox outside your window. makes you mixtapes even though CDs are basically extinct (joel has a player thank god). corny pickup lines. asks you to be her valentine publicly. runs to your house in the rain. dances with you in said rain.

when she gets sick it’s like the end of the world omg… she needs u to be at her side 24/7 and hold her and keep her company and give her get well soon kisses, it’s essential to her recovery. doctors orders. he said it not her!

gets along so well with your friends and family. she does her research and takes this shit seriously! whatever it takes to make you happy because what’s better than watching your girlfriend get along with the people you love

she also takes her own family seriously - family time is important to her and she spends a lot of time with joel. it’s even better when you can join, some of her best memories are with the two of you

“i’m happy as long as you’re happy”

pet names galore. her personal favourite is just babe (classic) but when she likes others too (sweetheart, honey, darling etc she’s so cheesy it’s awful)

in conclusion she’s just a clingy sappy lesbian who’s absolutely head over heels for you. and you wouldn’t have it any other way <33

bonus: (these tweets that are so ellie)

#tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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ghouly-boiiiii · 5 months

Text

THE GHOUL: WHY HE'S HOT - (A SCIENCE!)

࣪⊹°˖✧ Welcome to a Powerpoint Presentation by Some Ghoul-Loving Freak ✧˖° ⊹

Why is The Ghoul hot? I think many of us who find ourselves swooning over this necrotic, murdering cowboy have been asking ourselves that very question lately. Is there something wrong with me? Do I need therapy? Will my friends ever look at me the same way again? Well my fellow ghoul lovers, you are not alone. And I am here to explain to you the exact reasons why this gun-slingin’, ass bitin’ baked potato with teeth has captured the hearts of so many... with science! (sort of) 🤠

------(Spoiler warning... lots and lots of spoilers below the cut!)------

1. Walton Goggins… just Walton Goggins

I think we can all agree that the man behind the makeup and prosthetics is a large reason as to what makes The Ghoul so attractive. Walton himself is a very nice looking fellow, and he absolutely oozes charisma, both on the set and off. And for some reason decided to amp that up to 100 while playing The Ghoul. He managed to make Ghouly Boi likable and endearing, even when he's doing murdery things. So yeah, the dude's mad talented.

"Strong enough to keep out the rads... and the reds." - Cooper Howard shooting a Vault-Tec commercial in episode 6.

2. The makeup artists knew what they were doing

Attempting to make The Ghoul “kind of hot” was absolutely intentional. There was serious discussion behind the scenes about how they could make The Ghoul attractive to viewers, despite him being… well… a ghoul. (So yeah, it is 100% the creators fault. They did this to us on purpose!) When creating The Ghoul’s design, they deliberately ghoulified features that weren’t that important for attraction and left the rest alone, or made them more accentuated.

For example, when it comes to the attractiveness of a male, specifically in the face, most people focus in on the eyes, lips, jaw and cheekbones, which they emphasized and brought out with the makeup. Things like the nose, hair and even skin can be safely tinkered with, and even with those they went pretty easy on. Many ghouls have cloudy or discolored eyes, but not Ghouly. (in fact, bro’s still got his eyelashes, lol) They also kept his ears, despite most ghouls’ tending to fall off just like the nose. His teeth are still intact, despite being rather discolored. And they even made his skin relatively smooth compared to most ghouls. (I’m willing to bet he gets made fun of in a lot of ghoul circles for being such a baby smooth smoothskin)

If the creators had made him any uglier - messed up his eyes, took away the ears, rotted out some teeth, or made his skin a lot more torn up - we might not be here right now. But the character designers and makeup artists were very intentional in his appearance, making him look rotten enough to be recognized as a ghoul, but not so nasty he’d be hard to look at. By keeping and even accentuating Walton’s eyes and bone structure, while giving the ghoulishness to other features, they managed to balance out the ‘yuk’ with the ‘hmmm… wait what?’ just right.

"Sometimes a fella's gotta eat a fella." - The Ghoul to Lucy while munchin' on Roger in episode 4.

3. His charisma, charm and sense of humor

Look, Ghouly is charming as FUCK, okay? There’s no getting around it, so let’s just get that out of the way right now. He exudes confidence and beats you in the face with his overwhelming swag. He also has these… looks. Which I can only describe as “sexy” looks. I’m not really sure how to explain, but if you’re reading this, you probably know what I mean.

As mentioned before, a lot of this is just Goggins being Goggins, but the writing is brilliant as well. He definitely embodies that sort of hot badboy/outlaw/pirate sort of archetype that is often found in romantic settings/stories, so yeah. And also, who doesn't love a man with a great sense of humor? He's got all the best lines in the show and is just a joy to watch, even if it's just for the funny. Really, whoever wrote for Ghouly was a comedic genius, a gentleman, and a scholar. They should be commended.

"I'd offer you one a' these cherreh tomaydas, but you got a hole on yo neck." - The Ghoul to some guy he just shot in episode 2.

4. He loves dogs

Okay, so yes, we all know he stabs Dogmeat in order to keep her from ripping his face off, which ALMOST ruined his character for me, but then he brought her back with a Stimpak and all was forgiven. I’m willing to bet he probably also tried to stab her in a place that he knew wouldn’t be fatal, and also his choice to stab instead when he could have easily just shot her, letting her get right up on top of him before doing anything to defend himself, shows his hesitation in harming a dog.

It’s clear that Coop has a lot of affection for dogs, especially when we see the flashbacks of him with his OG dog and how pissed he gets about not being able to bring him into the vaults. The way he handles Dogmeat with such loving care, and smiles with genuine joy as she leaps up off the table was one of the first moments to show that, underneath that hardened exterior, he’s still got a soft, squishy, gooey center (other than the rotting flesh, I mean).

"Who decided that there were no dogs in the vault?" - Cooper to his wife upon finding out their dog Roosevelt wouldn't be able to go to the vault with them in episode 6.

5. He's a genuinely good person, deep down...

Not only does he save the dog (twice), but Ghouly also did other things that were surprisingly unselfish and not awful. Does that make up for the bad shit he did? Well, no. But again, it shows that he’s at least not ALL bad, and that the man he use to be is still in there somewhere.

For example, he could have easily ratted out Lucy for busting up the Super Duper Mart, but he took the heat for it instead. And despite the fact that he shoots (and eats) Roger, he does seem to have genuine empathy for the turning ghoul. So his choice to kill him wasn’t completely selfish, but also an act of mercy. Roger was essentially dying anyway, and Cooper saved him from an arguably worse fate than death. He even took a moment to remind Roger of a happy memory before doing the deed, a scenario reminiscent of the book Of Mice And Men, when George shoots Lenny at the end after reminding him of their dream in order to save him from a worse fate as well.

And let's not forget that before the bombs dropped, Cooper struggled to even fake kill a man on screen while shooting a film, not wanting his character to go down such a dark path. This shows that he was once a man who lived by a code of morals and principals, so much so that just the idea of stepping outside of that made him deeply uncomfortable, even if it was just pretend. This is why Cooper gives Lucy the line, "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. Just... give it a little time." Because he sees himself in her, or rather the person he used to be.

One of the things I love about how Cooper’s story is told is that we get to see his present and past self right away, juxtaposed against each other. His backstory isn’t revealed as a surprise later on. Instead we really get to see up front the complexities of his character that make him so compelling. He’s not just some heartless killer. He’s like this because he’s been through so much pain, and pushed to the point where he was forced to become something he's not in order to survive and carry on. Because of this, it makes The Ghoul a lot more likable and relatable than he would have been otherwise. It also kinda lets you put yourself in his shoes and ask yourself what you would do if you found yourself in his position. Actually brilliant writing, in my opinion.

"Do I have to kill him?" - Cooper to the director of the film he's shooting in Episode 3.

6. That tragic backstory

This is where the character of Cooper Howard really got me in the feels. Not only does Ghouly love dogs, but he loves his family too. And it’s revealed at the end of the season that even after 200+ years, they are still on his mind. He’s spent over two centuries looking for them, and putting himself through absolute hell, because he loves them that much. And not just his daughter, but his wife as well. Even though they had gotten divorced, presumably because of what he learned at the end of the season. Maybe he’s even hoping his old dog is still alive somehow, although that’s admittedly very unlikely...

So... you know what that means... Although he’s done horrible things, Cooper is a man driven by LOVE. He's stayed alive because of LOVE. He does these bad things because of LOVE. He’s become a monster IN THE NAME OF LOVE!!! It’s all about the power of LOVE, you guys. Call it cliché, but if that isn’t romantic as hell, I donno what the fuck is, ladies.

"Now, I've waited over 200 years to ask somebody one question... Where's my fuckin' family?" - Cooper to Hank in Episode 8

In Conclusion

So yes. He's ugly. He's mean. He's murdery. Kinda toxic AF. But that doesn't mean he can't also be a sexy motherfucker as well. 👍

He's a fictional character. It's a fantasy, and fantasies are allowed to be kinda fucked up. 😃 Hey, don't ask me why humans human the way we do. I didn't make us, so I don't know. It's all in good fun though, so let's just enjoy ourselves and try not to think too hard about it, eh? 😆 (So says the person who literally just wrote a fucking essay on the subject)

Alright, well... I guess that's about it. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. I hope this helped anyone who was feeling their sanity slip a little bit (like me 😃). Refreshments and resources are at the back. Exits to your left. Have a lovely evening and please excuse me while I drop my mic and go find myself a fuckin' gin martini. Team Ghoul Forever, baby! 🤠

#i did the meme fr y'all #i have no fucking life lol #ghoul lovers unite #this has been an essay about stupid shit #but thanks for reading #hope it helps xD #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout prime #fallout amazon #fallout series #fallout tv series #meta #just had to get this out of my system bc i overanalyze everything lol #also bc people who think he's just a one dimensional baddie they don't get it #ok now i can go to bed k thx byeeee #my posts #ghouly-boi

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theshiftingcafe · 1 year

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ shifting pick a pile ✧˖°࿐ ꒰"what are me and my s/o like in my dr?"꒱

hello! welcome to the shifting cafe!

for today's session, we'll be tackling about what exactly your dr s/os want to tell you all right now in general and in regard to shifting.

i know a lot of you must be currently missing your s/os, so, i hope this simple pick a pile brings you excitement and more motivation to shift.

REMEMBER: TAKE WHAT REASONATES, LEAVE WHAT DOESNT

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pick from at least one of these pictures:

∘₊✧───────────── pile 1 ─────────────✧₊∘

ok this pile is soooo cute to me. i’m lowkey getting forbidden love vibes? also maybe even sunshine x grumpy! i just get this vibe that you two are slightly polar opposites from each other yet still get along so well.

despite everything happening around you; no matter what your statuses, differences, and inequalities are, there’s no doubt that your dr s/o is always going to be by your side no matter what–especially through tough times. i see this pile to be a very mature relationship. they’re ready to help you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders–maybe even just carry it for you all together–just as much as you would for them. is your s/o older than you? perhaps not just physically, but more on emotionally. i see your relationship being full of trust and respect, given equally to each other of course. they have this very mature energy lingering over them that is endearing and comfortable, so rest assured, you’re in very good hands.

you dr s/o is not afraid of showering you with love at all despite there being restrictions if ever there are any. they radiate an artistic and warm energy and show their love for you in the most creative ways possible. like, your s/o just loves you so so so much! they go all out with their, well what they call as “small”, gestures. i see they might even consider stuff like starting a family with you or perhaps you already scripted to have a family with them which is adorable omg!!

one of you might be leading with your head, while the other leads with their heart, and that usually causes some miscommunications, conflicts, and clashing opinions. the cards remind you that it’s perfectly normal when people don’t see eye to eye, what matters most is how you resolve it. which i see you guys don’t really have much trouble with. you and your s/o are so harmonious, small petty fights usually end pretty easily and resolve immediately. which just proves more how emotionally connected you and your s/o are and how emotionally mature this relationship is.

i feel like most of you really have big doubts when it comes to love. whether it be because of old wounds that never healed completely, or fear of what could be itself, the cards tell you to breathe and learn to take risks when giving love another chance. yes, you’ve already learnt what not to do and what to avoid when it comes to love, but, never let that build up walls that shelter you so much that you won't get to experience it. you’re deserving of love. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

never restrict your foolishly in love heart from chasing after what it wants, even if it doesn’t end the way it wants to. because, eventually, you’ll trip and fall into the right arms. but of course, think before leaping in blind. trust your mind, your heart, but also, most importantly, trust your soul. the trials and tribulations will all be worth it.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 1! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 2 ─────────────✧₊∘

hmm, ok, this pile is very interesting to me. it seems this reading is actually for 2 types of shifters; those with s/os and those without. but first, let me give the reading for those with s/os.

do you happen to be shifting to a fame dr? maybe a dr where you, your dr s/o, or both of you are very well respected and have a certain reputation to uphold. a reputation that could be broken and twisted by anyone–both a blessing and a curse. i can really see the quote “in the death of their reputation, they felt truly alive.” fitting in this pile.

i’m seeing so many restrictions with this pile. one of you or both of you is withdrawing affection and energy from this relationship. not in the way that you or they don’t want to give it, because it’s taking you or their whole will power to hold back, but because there’s something in the way of it all. this act isn’t exactly an act of passion, but rather, an act of security. you want to protect each other, yet can’t freely love each other by doing so. which is quite a pickle itself.

all you and your s/o want is a warm home with a sincere relationship where you could be free to be who you want to be and love the way you want to, but it almost feels like everyday, the world turns against both of you. i’m not gonna sugar coat anything for this reading; it’s gonna be hard. it’s gonna be hard, confusing, scary, disappointing, and sometimes you’re gonna have doubts. but never ever let them make you regret your journey.

that’s just the reality of shifting; it’s real life. you’re gonna go through struggles, you’re gonna disappear for a while, you’re gonna go through it all. but, just when you think all hope is lost, people you love the most are gonna be there for you. they’re gonna stay by your side, especially your dr s/o, and help carry most–if not all–of the pressure of the world off your shoulders. taking even a small break would help. not just for when you’re in your cr, but also when you’re in your dr. you’re probably scared about something. could it be fear that you won't be enough for your s/o? maybe you feel like you’re going to be too much for them. look, let me give you a little pep talk; if they truly love you, they’re going to accept every part of you. and i mean every part. the good and the bad. and i’m sure you’re a great person who deserves all the love from the people you love.

if ever you happen to stumble upon this pick-a-pile but you don’t have an s/o yet still felt drawn to this pile, the cards tell you that you don’t ever need to be pressured into a relationship. you don’t have to feel pressured to persuade anyone in your dr or script an s/o for yourself when you don’t want to, even if everyone tells you to do so. it’s your dr, and it’s your feelings. you can’t force love. and this applies not only to you, but to everyone else.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 2! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 3 ─────────────✧₊∘

the moment i started the reading for this pile, i instantly thought about adrenaline inducing scenarios and maybe even a bit of danger, yet also just slow sunday mornings and sun lit rooms? do you happen to be shifting to a superhero dr? maybe a dr that’s labeled as dangerous to some if not most people? i’m also getting a partner in crime type of trope/enemies to lovers trope vibe for this pile, which is super cool if it’s accurate!

you and your dr s/o are literally each other’s safe space, and there isn’t more or less to it.

one of you isn’t particularly fond of being flashy or adventurous. they’re mostly a rule follower and very rarely ever expresses their ideas. however, you can count on them at all times, and best believe they would break every single rule in the book for their other half. this person is stable, practical, and of course, loyal. the other, however, is the opposite. they’re flashy, adventurous, and not afraid to voice out their opinions. always ready to set an idea and follow it, no matter what anyone says. making them a perfect match! they’re the literal definition of left brain and right brain, perfectly balancing each other’s intuition and intellect.

one of you, if not both, has acts of service at their top love language–both giving and receiving. one of you needs help reaching something above the shelves? the other will get it, don’t worry. one of you need help putting on their jewelry? the other will immediately be behind to help clip the necklace on. one of you feel hungry? the other will pick up either the phone for takeout or cook the meal. one of you feel exhausted? the other will be there 24/7 ready to do whatever it was the other didn’t get to do and let them rest.

you guys just enjoy each other's company, even when it’s doing absolutely nothing together. whether it be in the middle of a chaotic crowd in a hustling and bustling situation, or with no one else but each other in a quiet empty space, you guys cherish every single moment of it. you’re ready to accept each other's sweet nothings and bitter everything, which is everyone’s dream!

i feel like most of you really chose this trope because most of you came from a very dysfunctional place and just want to be comforted after a long tiring day. this pile has to be the most comforting reading i’ve ever done. like, literally! that fuzzy warm feeling in my chest and everything! whatever it is that you went through or are currently going through, just know, there will always be someone waiting for you at the dinner table with a warm meal ready to ask you about your day and listen to how it went. ready to give you your dream fairytale love story.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 3! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

that is it for today's pick a pile session! thank you so much for everyone who decided to participate/stop by and picked their piles for some guidance. i hope these resonated and i have interpreted them well for all of you.

if you have any suggestions for future pick a piles, please feel free to request through messaging me or leaving an ask!

for a personal tarot reading session, check out my carrd and order from my google forms!

thank you so so so much and i'll see you all soon! happy shifting!

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

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brabblesblog · 5 months

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 14: He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The reception is in full swing.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

They were in the gardens, holding a pose, the artist furiously sketching. Ban exhaled, resisting the urge to drop her shoulders and slouch. Beside her Astarion held still effortlessly.

“Can we-” she called to the artist. “Oskar. Can we please end this for the day? It’s our fifth piece from you. I’m sure you already know what we look like by now.”

“But, to strive for perfection!” Oskar threw his hands up in the air. “You cannot possibly-”

Astarion broke his pose, wrapping a hand around her wrist before striding away. “You can, Oskar. I’m sure an artist of your caliber can fill the blanks in with their formidable imagination.”

Before Oskar could respond, he had already led Ban away.

That was the last portrait for the day; they had spent the past two hours posing for various artists to put down preliminary sketches.

Astarion felt Ban lean against him and press her temple against his shoulder. “Another quick change,” she grumbled, “and then onto the reception.”

“Remind me. Which dress are you changing into?”

She frowned, thinking. “The same as the first. I have one less than you do.”

They arrived at the bedroom, making sure not to pass by the ballroom where the guests had been mingling. The ensembles had been moved there ahead of them and Ban flopped onto the bed, closing her eyes. Not even their most lengthy ball had come close to the amount of preparation or the duration of this wedding, and she privately wished they had merely eloped.

“I cannot wait for this to be over.”

He smirked, the sight of her sprawled on the bed both endearing and arousing, and his fingers flew over the clasps on his suit. He undid it enough to bare his chest, then crawled on top of her, straddling her hips.

“Because you’re exhausted, darling? A pity. I had all sorts of plans for tonight.” He smirked as she opened her eyes to glare at him.

“I’m sure some blood will perk me up.” Ban waved a hand dismissively.

Astarion took her words to heart, eagerly arching his neck in invitation. She ran gentle fingers down his neck, tracing his old scars, and he shivered.

“Your restraint finally failing you?” The soft touch of her fingers, her thumb caressing his Adam’s apple, the sheer nearness of her body under his - so godsdamned close… as much as he wanted to wait until tonight to break his fast, his head nodded of its own volition.

He leaned down, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck - a position reminiscent of the first night he’d bitten her, he thought with some amusement - and she bit down, fangs sinking into him with that familiar cold, sharp bite. Astarion didn’t fight it, hips pressing against her and rolling with a deliberate, delicious slowness, savoring the friction of his cock dragging across her mound.

“Perhaps,” he drawled. “You’d best be certain not to spill this time, Ban. You do not want these clothes- oh.”

She had licked up the wounds, and had kissed her way to his ear, licking around its edges. His body jerked, the thrust of his hips no longer quite controlled.

“You minx,” he growled, although there was little bite in it. “I never agreed to anything more than biting.”

“Mm.” Another long, slow pass of her tongue, drawing out a whine from him. “And yet you have not pulled away.”

He felt her hands beginning to roam his chest, stroking the hard planes of muscle. His heart raced at the contact and he bit his lip.

“Ban. Lower.”

“As you wish, my lord,” she purred playfully, sensually, drifting her hand over taut abdominal muscles before palming his erection.

He bucked, helpless against the need that filled him. Too long. Far too long. He reached between them to tug down his trousers, revealing the head of his cock. He gasped and his eyes shut as he felt Ban trace the slit gently, collecting his precum.

“I said my vows today,” she whispered against his ear, her hand sliding into his trousers and wrapping around his length, “but there are more. More things to tell you, things I wish I’d told you long ago.” She caressed his cheek, in time with a long, slow stroke, and he whined.

More. Was this her rising to the challenge he’d given her last night? Either way, he found himself entirely at her mercy. Whatever words were soon to fall from her lips, they were words he would die to hear, words he felt would heal every single ache he had ever endured. She pulled at his waistband, freeing his length before taking him in her grasp once more; the tightness and feel of her hand around his cock caused a long twitch. His lips parted, only one word on them - a prayer.

“Please.”

She kissed his forehead, a soft press of lips so achingly tender, a perfect contrast to the firm strokes of his cock. He rolled his hips, palms flat on the bed on either side of her, eyes squeezed shut.

“You…” she began, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I remember it as if it were yesterday - the scent of the sea, the rustling of the trees - and you, hair shining in the midday sun, asking for help. Gorgeous. Ethereal. Perfect.” The last words were breathed against his ear, and he leaned down further, as far as he could go, wanting to hear every last syllable.

He could see it in his mind’s eye, her body pressed against his, his dagger inches away from her throat. The sun, beating down on him. Her in camp. The clearing. She dragged her hand slowly, the pressure on his cock divine, and he grunted.

She cupped his cheek, tracing the sharp lines with her thumb. “But there was more to you than just looks. Your voice, your humor, your heart,” and she tutted as he scoffed, placing her palm flat against his chest, “everything. You. I loved you even before I understood what that meant. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to be happy.”

He savored all her words, panting as he listened, his ass clenching as the thrust into her hand. He reached down, running his fingers along the delicate curve of her wrist, a silent plea for her to keep going. "You're incredible, you know that?"

“Shush. We’re talking about you, Astarion.”

His name, purred from her lips, spurred him on.

The delicious feel of her palm stroking him, the memories - of then and today, watching her walk down the aisle towards him, to him.

His hips bucked faster, mindlessly rutting against her strokes, soft pants the only sound he was able to make. He was close, he knew; he’d need very little more - a few more swipes across his tip, a caress at the sensitive bottom of his cockhead and he’d be done-

No. Not yet. He gently pulled at her hand, a quick, soft tug that she didn’t even seem to notice. Her strokes increased in speed, sensing he was close and wanting to push him over.

He swallowed hard, the rush of thoughts suddenly feeling like they were drowning him. The nights under the tent, his fingers and tongue deep inside her, those final nights when she’d finally touched him again, just like this, but also every single day since they’d found their way back to one another - soft gazes, breathless moans in the night, his name, whispered from her lips - something he would never tire of. Her in her wedding dress, nervously making her vows to him. The entire month spent longing for her, forcing himself to calm whenever he’d been overwhelmed with wanting, his cock so desperate for any friction that the slightest touch had him rock hard. Just a few more hours and his fast would be ended in exactly the way he’d hoped for all these weeks, all he had to do was hold out just a bit longer.

He gripped Ban’s wrist more tightly, but again she didn’t notice; he could feel himself teetering over the edge - one more stroke and he’d no doubt spill into her hand. His heart was racing, his breathing rapid, and he felt a little dizzy and he was so, so close and she still hadn’t stopped…

No. Not yet. Not until tonight. Not like this. Not when I’m overwhelmed. Not-

“Sussur!”

Immediately she let go, the edges of his orgasm fading as he leaned back and flexed his thighs to keep from spilling over the edge. Her hands cupped his face and she scanned his features, worry etched in hers.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry, please,” she said, the words tumbling out in a nervous rush.

He shook his head quickly, lowering himself to lay on top of her. The sensation of his still-sensitive cock pressing against her made him moan.

“No, my love. It just slipped out, you did nothing wrong. In fact,” he turned to meet her gaze, head nestled between her breasts, “you…”

He found the words stuck on his throat. He cleared it, and tried again. “I did not quite expect…”

“For me to stop? Of course I would.” She ran her fingers through his curls; he leaned into the touch. He’d have to re-style his hair before they left the room.

“I know.” He blinked back tears, surprised to even feel them welling up in the first place. “I knew you would,” he clarified, “but there was a small part of me that feared, in that split second after I said it…”

“That your wishes would not be honored,” Ban finished for him. Her hands slid down his back and held him tight.

He nodded. “That was the first thing that came to mind.” Too many memories flashed through his mind, of people who refused to heed his wishes, who’d laughed and-

He shook his head. He wouldn’t think of that today.

“T-thank you,” he whispered, nuzzling against her more firmly. He hated the waver in his voice, but there was nothing for it.

“Of course.” Her fingers traced the embroidery on his suit jacket. “Would you tell me what went wrong, love?”

“Nothing, really. I wanted to save it for tonight.” He smiled at her, a little uncertain. “I did not want it right now, in between all these proceedings. Hurried. I was extremely close but you seemed to think my attempts to stop you were encouragement, and I began to feel a bit… anxious.”

Ban considered this. “I understand. I’m sorry, Astarion. I didn’t realize. You made me come earlier, and I thought I’d return the favor.” He could tell she knew there was more to it. “Was this all…” she waved a hand, “too much?”

“A little. But I wouldn’t consider it something bad, merely overwhelming, and definitely not how I wanted to break my fast.”

She frowned. “I’m so sor-”

He laughed, crawling up to kiss her. “Don’t you dare apologize. It was wonderful, and I found myself too close far too soon.” He looked down at himself; the dull ache of his unsatisfied need made his cock throb painfully. He pulled away, rolled off of her and sat up. He tucked himself back in. “I’d very much love to continue hearing all those words of yours. Tonight.”

“Still think I’m not up to the challenge?” she asked, stretching on the bed.

He shook his head. “With a little more practice, you might hope to at least contend with me.”

She snorted and nudged him with her foot. “Hm. I doubt tha-”

He caught her ankle in his grasp, running his fingers on the underside of her foot, tickling her. She squealed, and he let her go, smirking. “See? You have a ways to go, Ban.”

She rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. “Fine.” One last stretch, and she sat up. “Let’s get changed. We have a long night ahead of us.”

He hummed in response, his thoughts focused entirely on what they would be doing after the reception.

Astarion sipped from his goblet as he watched two of his ghouls drag Volo away. Satisfied the party crasher had been dealt with, he scanned the rest of the room. There was Ban, in deep conversation with Jaheira, Minsc hovering with that rat on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen them in what felt like ages. Those two had departed soon after the Netherbrain had been defeated, with nary a goodbye - then again, no one had really bid him farewell, other than Gale.

He watched Karlach and Wyll depart for Avernus, watched Lae’zel fly off on her dragon. Stood there, side by side with Ban, who was bloodied and noticeably injured. He slipped an arm around her waist, and for once she did not shy away, leaning on him, too exhausted to even level a snide remark.

That night they had a small party to celebrate, Gale, Halsin, Shadowheart, Jaheira and Minsc were with them. They hardly paid him any mind, he may as well not even have come. He sulked at the furthest end of the table, face mostly buried in his cup. Conversation flowed over him, as it always had since the rite - at this point there was little point in listening or trying to participate.

He flicked his eyes over to her mug. Seeing it empty, he wordlessly picked it up and headed for the bar. When he came back, Jaheira and Minsc had already turned in for the night. Halsin and Shadowheart stood to leave without a word. Only Gale remained, and Ban, of course.

“I must head to bed as well,” Gale said, nodding to him as he approached. “I do hope we keep in contact.”

He stood silently as Gale wrapped his arms around Ban one last time then nodded at him - Astarion allowed himself the smallest of nods in response - and watched Gale retire to his room.

That night he whisked Ban away to the Crimson Palace.

So much has changed since then, he thought, staring at the bottom of his goblet. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked over to see Minsc waving at him. He raised his hand awkwardly, waving back. He could see Jaheira, eyeing him with what looked like slight wariness. He waved to her as well.

Ban’s thoughts touched his. I told them everything. They like you better now.

Better? I was under the impression they did not like me at all. He put the goblet down on a passing server’s tray.

He felt her amusement through their bond. Jaheira liked you well enough to attempt to visit.

There was that. In the early days Jaheira had attempted to gain access to the Crimson Palace under the guise of delivering sweets and pastries for the lord of the house. Astarion had assumed it an attempt to curry his favor and spy on them at the same time, and he had always sent a servant to receive the gifts in his stead. Always outside the gates, never allowing her to take a single step onto the palace grounds. Ban had not corresponded with her much, if at all, which had been fine by him.

The pastries had always tasted good, at least.

She did bring a large batch over today, as a gift.

Do tell her I genuinely appreciate them, then, even if I didn’t appreciate her frankly blatant attempts to spy on us back then.

Astarion! Indignation, but still mostly mirth. He smiled as Ban turned towards him, eyebrows raised.

I merely jest. Tell them thank you for gracing us with their presence today. Seeing everyone under one roof again is most rewarding, especially now that we’re hosting it. He rolled his eyes, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

He ended their link after one final snort from Ban, and continued surveying the guests.

There was the bard he’d hired to send messages to Gale when Ban had been taken - he’d proven to be surprisingly skilled, after all. He caught sight of Meiros with his wife, arm in arm, mingling with a crowd of artisans. He saw Lady Jannath and Oskar dancing and scoffed; the man sorely needed lessons.

A soft tap on his shoulder caught his attention. The twins stood before him, wearing identical dresses, one in green and one in blue. He bowed his head. “Enxisys. Miaxisys. A pleasure. I am glad you could join us tonight.”

“Your ceremony was in the sun, so we… decided to run a little late,” Miaxisys said, offering him her hand, which he took and pressed a soft kiss to.

“Apologies.” He turned to Enxisys, taking her hand and kissing it as well. “I trust you two have had a safe and uneventful journey otherwise? My wife and I would be more than happy to share our blood stores for the duration of your stay.”

Enxisys raked her eyes over him, a look that never failed to make him want to curl his lip and snap, but he merely offered a smile.

“We’ve had no trouble,” she said, eyes still fixed on his features, “but we shan’t stay long. We will be likely to ask for a bottle or two for the journey home, however, since I’m certain you wouldn’t be amenable to us helping ourselves to…” she glanced around, “...fresher sources.”

“We try not to create tension between us and the local government.” Astarion’s eyes flicked over to Ulder. “As such, we operate within the limits of what they might consider tolerable. Blood procured from our staff and other willing volunteers - with compensation, of course. A criminal or two, if I should desire something with a little more spice to it.” Ban never indulged in that, but he held out hope that she might consider it one day. Hunting with her would be most alluring. “If you would like one, I’m certain I can arrange something with Ulder.” He nodded over to the man.

“The Grand Duke himself.” Miaxisys shook her head. “We’ll settle for the bottles. We have more than enough volunteers at home.”

Enxisys simpered. “We hope to see you again soon, Lord Ancunín. Congratulations.”

“And thank you,” Miaxisys added under her breath.

Astarion watched them move away, hand in hand, beelining for Halsin. Allowing himself a moment of wry amusement, he observed them try and fail to capture Halsin’s attention.

“Entertained?” Ban’s voice whispered against his ear, wrapping her arm around him. He looked down at her, smiling, but before he could reply she fed him a piece of calamari from her plate. Delicious.

“Halsin,” he intoned, gesturing to the twins, “won’t be so easily swayed by vampires, I think. Even when they come in as pretty a package as those two.” He took her plate, placing it on a table. “A dance, my love?”

“Oh, you never know.” Ban nodded and took his hand, leading him to the dance floor. “Halsin isn’t usually opposed to a more casual arrangement.”

His expression darkened for a fraction of a second as he gripped her waist, a small grunt his only response. Immediately she placed a hand on his chest, smoothing down a crease in his one-shouldered cape.

“I know. What I did…it wasn’t the best thing, nor the right thing to do.” Her eyes flicked away, and he felt her tense in his arms. “Not for Halsin, or for Gale, but especially not for you.”

He was quiet for a few moments, then pressed his forehead against hers, exhaling roughly. “Halsin and I have made amends. The same is true with Gale, and more so between you and I.” He met her gaze. “There’s little need to bring old issues to the fore on a day like this.”

All the same, he reveled in the knowledge that she’d come to see the pain she had caused him. He twirled her in his arms, taking them further into the throng of people on the dance floor. The other dancers cleared away as they spun towards them. Astarion took care to not move too fast; she wasn’t the most graceful person, and he made sure that each step was carefully choreographed, occasionally whispering a quick left foot to her as they danced. It was ridiculous to think that they’d hosted countless parties and she’d yet to master the waltz, but that was Ban - for all her strength there was none of the dexterity.

As their dance came to an end, he drew closer, tracing his thumb over her lip, his mouth mere inches away from slotting against hers, when Ban turned around. He huffed, exasperated, then looked past her to see the illithid. It took a moment to recall his name - fleeting images of the dark and surprisingly beautiful myconid colony came to mind - until he locked onto it. Omeluum.

“I see the Society of Brilliance received our invitations and sent its best representatives. Omeluum. Blurg.” He nodded at each in turn; the hobgoblin’s name he remembered easily enough.

The illithid’s mind reached for his, the tendrils of thought very unlike Ban’s. He had to resist the urge to shy away, clenching his jaw. It had been more than a year since the tadpoles, after all.

Congratulations. The nuptials were wonderful. Omeluum scanned the ballroom; Astarion could not read anything on his expression. The tentacles lifted, hovering, a language he would never understand, nor did he want to.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. Blurg stepped forward, pressing a tome into his hands. Before he could ask, Omeluum spoke.

The Society has heard about your… contract. Blurg and I thought you may wish to know more.

Astarion glanced at the cover. Infernal Pacts: A Guide. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Thank you again, but I do think my contract was completed most satisfactorily. That is enough for me.”

“What a lovely piece for our collection, regardless,” Ban offered, her voice conciliatory, taking the book gently. “Thank you, Omeluum. We greatly appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll ensure this is properly stored.” As Ban headed off to place the book with their other gifts, Astarion shifted, a little awkward.

Blurg spoke up. “Are you a daywalker now, Astarion?” His hands hovered, as if he wished to poke and prod, no doubt curious about the Ascendant’s newfound powers. “I’m sure the society would love a chance to study-”

“Absolutely not.” It came out in a hiss; he cleared his throat. “I understand that my circumstances are unique, but I do not wish to be prodded and examined like some experiment.”

As Blurg mumbled an apology, he waved his hand. “None taken. I do hope you both enjoy the rest of the evening.” Astarion hurried off before Omeluum or Blurg could make some other inane comment that pushed his patience to the limit.

He settled onto his throne, eyeing Ban’s, which had been installed closely beside his. Surveying the ballroom gave him an odd sense of satisfaction, but also of melancholy. Here was everyone he’d ever cared about, however little, all under one roof. He wondered how many of them came for her more than him, but he brushed that aside. Her or him - it mattered little. They were one, and everyone had come from far and wide, for them.

He spied Ban bowing out of a conversation with Dame Aylin and Isobel, heading to the bedrooms for her final outfit change. He stood, quickly heading that way as well.

Astarion caught up to her right outside their bedroom door, playfully grabbing her wrist and tugging her to him. “Tut, tut. You left without telling me,” he chided.

“You were on the throne, leering at everyone. I figured you were having fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not as much fun as I’d have watching you undress.”

“Touché.”

It was quicker this time, each of them slipping out of their elaborate clothes without much fuss. He helped her with the buttons on the back of her dress, wordlessly undoing them, refraining - with some effort - from pressing himself against her backside. He could not, however, resist kissing his way down her bare skin.

She laughed, a soft, tinkling sound that made his heart soar. Her smile was radiant when she turned to face him. “A few hours more, and you can do everything you’ve been wanting to do to me.”

He nodded, a bit preoccupied with his thoughts. He felt her hand cup his cheek, bringing his gaze back to her. “Something wrong?”

“No. Nothing significant.” He gestured towards the party. “The Society seems overly curious about my… condition.”

“You are unique. I’m not surprised they’d want to at least ask a few questions.” She headed off to grab her next and final ensemble, a blood-red and black dress. His suit hung behind the door, red and gold to match. He unhooked it and began to tug it on, frowning.

“That much is true, I suppose. I merely dislike being looked at like…” he trailed off. Like he wasn’t a person, rather something to be poked at and prodded. He’d had more than enough of that in his life.

She looked to him, her hands stilling where they were pulling the dress up halfway on her body. “I know. I’m sorry. They… they don’t know.”

“A fair point.”

She approached him, turning in a silent request for him to tie up the lacing. As he did, he cleared his throat. “All this,” he began, “the people, the party… they would not be here if it were not for you.”

“Don’t think that.”

“Not thinking something does not make it untrue.” He turned her around. “They like me well enough - the snippy, prickly vampire lord, held on a leash by the hero of Baldur’s Gate.” He knew he sounded bitter, and didn’t care. While he was glad they no longer saw him as a monster, this was still a rather unpleasant truth to swallow.

“Astarion,” she turned to face him. “Our companions think more of you than just that.”

“They do, now. How about the rest?” He raised an eyebrow. When she didn’t answer, he placed a firm kiss on her lips.

“I am completely aware of what they see me as. What they think of me, of all this. Perhaps they also judge you too, or blame me for corrupting you,” he held up a hand to shush her as she tried to speak, “but the point is - they’re here for you.”

They spoke at the same time.

“It doesn’t matter what they think-”

“None of it matters-”

He laughed. “I suppose we agree on that, at least.”

She buried herself in his chest, and he planted an affectionate kiss at the top of her head, gently rocking her, settling his chin on the spot where his lips were just moments ago.

“I know none of it matters,” he repeated. “It… stings, at moments, but it isn’t anything new, or anything unexpected. I mentioned it to highlight one simple thing, however.”

“Which is?”

“You.” He lifted her face off his chest, fixing her with his gaze. “You, simply put. My wife.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “They see you. Your bravery and strength,” he paused, “your heart.”

“Which we both know to be neither kind nor nice.”

He snorted. “They don’t need to know that. Besides, people judge your merit by your deeds, not your thoughts.”

“Oddly wise, coming from you.” She nudged him. He turned her around again to finish tying up her dress.

“I am two centuries old, Ban. You pick up some things along the way.”

They waltzed amongst the crowd, the party in full swing now. They made a striking pair, both dressed in red. He lowered her for a dip he knew she’d have to have extra assistance with and he felt her falter; he quickly gripped her waist and straightened up, effortlessly taking her with him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and he stifled a laugh.

“Clumsy as ever, darling.”

She looked down. “These shoes are too high. You can’t even see them through the dress - I have no idea why I decided to wear these.”

“Well…” he squeezed her thigh through the layers of fabric. “They would show, if your husband decided to ruck up your skirt, perhaps as you sat in his lap on his throne…”

“Would you like that?” She pressed against his body; he swallowed down a wave of desire.

“Perhaps another night, when I’m not so…” he thought for a moment, biting his lip, “on edge.”

They moved across the dance floor effortlessly, thanks to his careful guidance. Astarion saw Halsin approaching from the corner of his eye.

“Astarion, Ban,” Halsin made a small bow. “May I have the honor of dancing with the bride for a song?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Ban took Halsin’s hand and Astarion watched them for a moment before turning to find another partner. He spied Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the corner and decided on the safer option of the two. Shadowheart would be less likely to eviscerate him. Probably.

Ban held on to Halsin’s thick frame. The two of them were dancing as simple a waltz as they could, seeing as neither had any skill in it.

“I never found an opportunity to tell you, Ban, but I am glad things went well for you and Astarion,” he rumbled. She could smell a faint whiff of earth, and gazed up at him.

She shrugged. “Who knew, right? From the grove to here - and look at you in a suit!”

His laugh made people look at them. “A rare sight, indeed. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Or cursed. It honestly depends.”

Halsin’s smile remained, and he looked over to where Astarion was dancing with Shadowheart. She looked as well and noted that they made a fine pair, weaving through the crowd with far more grace than Ban could ever hope to achieve.

“Hm.” He looked back at her ruefully. “Fate is never predictable. Much like nature, we are simply subject to its whims, capricious and ever-changing as they are.”

She nodded in agreement. “I am glad… that you and Astarion seemed to have made amends, even before the wedding. I wasn’t privy to your conversation back in Reithwin, but I assume it went really well.”

“It was not too difficult, and it did go well. He was far more willing to listen than I expected him to be, judging from when I had met him last.”

“And considering what had happened between us,” she finished for him. “Which, well. It was a complicated mess. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I did it anyway, to spite him. I had a wonderful time, but... I’m sorry for dragging you into it.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed. “It was a difficult time, and none of us were completely to blame.”

“You carry none of the blame, Halsin.”

He opened his mouth, as if to argue, but with a shake of her head he nodded. “Then I shall accept that.”

She searched for a change in topic, and cleared her throat. “I trust the children are in safe hands tonight?”

“They are. I shall leave tomorrow, to make sure they don’t miss me too much. I’ve already spent far too much time away from them to whittle your wedding present; I do not wish to be parted from them any longer.”

“Is it… in the same vein as the previous gift?” She could not help but ask.

Halsin chuckled. “Unfortunately, no. This one is to hopefully adorn your mantlepiece.”

As Halsin spoke, Ban noticed Astarion and Shadowheart moving towards them, likely to swap partners.

“Halsin.” Astarion smiled, “May I have my wife back, please?”

Ban scanned his features, looking to see if there was any lingering tension there, but he seemed to be perfectly sincere. She took her husband’s hand and Shadowheart took Halsin’s.

“You took him out for a spin,” Ban told her, “and did his skill justice better than I ever could. You’re both so graceful, it was beautiful to watch.”

Shadowheart arched her eyebrows. “Just a little more practice, that’s all.” She shot Astarion a wink, then was swept away in Halsin’s arms.

“What was that for?” Ban raised an eyebrow at Astarion.

He smirked. “Shadowheart had a gift, which she thinks you’ll find enjoyable.”

“Enjoyable?” She immediately felt a little suspicious. “What would that be?”

“And ruin the surprise? Tch.” He shook his head. “But considering what she and I saw back with that priest of Loviatar…”

Ban pursed her lips. “Fine.” But she deliberately slipped her hand lower, skating over the swell of Astarion’s ass. His eyes widened and he bared his fangs playfully.

“You’ll be thoroughly punished for that, you know?”

“Mhm. But not before I make a mess out of you first.” The response obviously caught him off guard; he blinked twice, his breath hitching as his pupils dilated. He recovered after a long moment, a smirk growing on his face.

“I’d like to see you try.”

As if he hadn’t almost come undone under her touch earlier tonight. She let it stand, however, closing her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. They swayed in silence, allowing the music to sweep across them. She felt his mind reach for hers; there was that soft, soothing sensation of his mind wrapping around hers. They danced.

Her feet, aching from the heeled shoe. His, snug in his usual wyrmhide loafers. The weight of her gown tugging on her every move, her scalp, pulled tight by her braids. She no longer felt it usually, but she did as Astarion took note of it.

His hand slipped off her waist, tugging a hairpin out. He tucked it in his pocket, tucked an errant strand behind her ear and then watched her curiously.

“You’re going to mess my hair up, if you take out more,” she warned.

A smile graced his features. “Perhaps that’s the idea.” He pulled out more, loosening her hair further. She was about to complain, then realized he was leading her to her throne.

“Sit.” His voice was firm, and she sighed, settling on the black throne. He knelt in front of her, hands slipping underneath the massive skirt of her gown.

She panicked, wondering if he was tipsy enough to actually do this with all the guests present. She gripped his wrist in alarm, but he shook his head at her. Ban prepared to protest yet again, when she felt his fingers unstrap her shoe and slip it off her tired foot. He pressed his thumbs on the arch, soothing it. The other shoe followed soon thereafter.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

She conceded then, allowed him to massage her feet until they no longer ached so much. He slowly put them down on the dais. As he leaned back, seemingly satisfied, she leaned forward and grabbed his face for a deep kiss. “Thank you. I have no doubt this will just make me look worse, but…” she shrugged.

He chuffed out a small laugh. “Whoever said I’m doing this for you? I might merely be preparing for tonight.” His thoughts, however, were filled with nothing but warmth. He stood up and offered her his hand.

She took it, tilting her head in confusion. Was he… she didn’t look proper, with her hair half undone and barefoot. As he pulled on her hand she held back.

I’m not properly dressed anymore.

He rounded on her, taking her other hand and tugging on both, a smile on his lips. “I don’t care, and neither will they, especially if they value their lives. You look absolutely radiant. Place your feet on mine,” he instructed, taking a step forward so she could do so.

She grew even more confused. “I’m not sure-”

The smile grew wider. “I’ve got you, darling. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

She nodded, carefully standing on his feet. He held her close in a snug grip, tucking her close to his body, and then he spun.

The pace was fast, faster than any of their dances today or any of their balls, faster than any amount of practice could achieve. She had tried her best to keep up with him during dance rehearsals, but she had never come close. Dexterity and finesse came naturally to Astarion, after all, and compared to him she felt like she had leaden feet. Let alone his vampiric speed. The pace of it almost took her breath away, the world blurring to just the rush of air across her face, the tight grip Astarion had on her body, and his breathing, soft against her ear, faster from exertion.

Her vision began to swim, and she locked her gaze on his eyes, the only thing that seemed to stay stationary. The world spun around them, the music and the chattering of the crowd loud, but none of it mattered. The exhaustion of the day finally felt like it was ebbing away, and she found herself shooting him a grin, to which he responded in kind.

“Finally a dance you can be proud of,” he teased, and she shook her head, admitting defeat.

She closed her eyes, melting into his grasp, resting her head on his chest. She heard a soft, contented hum and felt a quick press of lips to her temple, and for the first time today, she allowed herself to relax.

Bonus: All wedding outfits can be seen here

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chalkscene · 7 months

Text

lovebrush chronicles ⇢ THEY FIND THE DRAWING YOU DID OF THEM

ft. ayn alwyn, alkaid mcgrath, lars rorschach & clarence clayden

when you asked AYN if you could drop by the piano room and watch him practice, he didn’t expect you to take a seat on the far corner of the room, nose deep in your sketchbook. you’ve barely had a full conversation with him since you got here and he can’t understand why—you’re usually very chatty. he can’t help but scowl as he glances at you. he’s about to call for your attention when your phone rings and you immediately excuse yourself out of the room, “i’ll be right back.” as soon as the door clicks shut, he eyes your sketchbook which is now unsupervised. he knows he shouldn’t look but curiosity killed the cat. he gets up from his seat and strides across the room to peek at your work then his breath hitches. right before his eyes is a rough sketch of a raven-haired boy slightly hunched over a piano, his back on the artist—you. you’re drawing him. in a state of fluster, ayn quickly sets the sketchbook down in the same position he found it—hell, he can’t remember it. he’s too preoccupied by the fact that you’re sketching him that he registers a second too late that you’ve already returned, catching him fiddling with the sketchpad. before you can say a word, ayn walks back to the piano without sparing you a glance, “i didn’t see anything.” you feel the mortification in your system vanish as quickly as it came, now stiffling a giggle that threatens to escape your lips. ayn being more flustered when it was you who got caught drawing him is actually comical. you don’t even resist the urge to tease him, “really?” “really,” he answers curtly. “then why are you being weird?” “why are you drawing me?” ayn retorts with a tinge of accusation as he turns to glare at you but you’re not even slightly intimidated. you prod, “so you did see it?” ayn looks away from your smug expression upon his lack of rebuttal, doing his best to conceal the color in his cheeks with his hair. “i wasn’t going to,” you explain truthfully, “but you were so in your element i couldn’t help but… ‘capture’ the moment,” you say with air quotes, “i like drawing you.” ayn feels his heart skip a beat but as emotionally constipated as he is unable to handle your admission, he grumbles despite blushing furiously, “just ask me to come to the art studio next time.”

ever since ALKAID invited you to picnics or simple strolls around nature, you’ve developed a habit of making quick sketches of the scenery around you. but today’s an exception. with the cool breeze and the soothing warmth of the sun while you and alkaid sit side by side under a tree, it’s all just too relaxing. alkaid is busying himself with his camera when he suddenly feels a soft impact on his shoulder. when he glances at you, he can’t help but smile, endeared by the sight of you asleep. your sketchbook is left open and your grip on the pencil has loosened enough that a sudden gust of wind flips the pages and alkaid gets a glimpse of the drawing you had done of him. saying he’s surprised is an understatement. he finds it unbelievable that you’d ever choose him as your muse. alkaid isn’t one to pry but he can’t resist turning the pages over to get a good look at your drawing, taking in its rough details and pencil strokes. it looks beautiful, he notes, barely fighting a smile upon the realization that this is how you see him. before you stir awake, alkaid reaches over and with careful fingers, he takes your pencil and inserts it between the binding of your sketchbook like a bookmark before flipping it shut. he decides against mentioning it to you until the next day. alkaid goes out of his way to find you on campus, “hey, i was looking for you.” “why?” “it’s just, um…” he trails off, turning hesitant as if he’s choosing his words carefully, “do you want to make a trade?” “trade?” before you can ask more questions, alkaid takes out what you think is a piece of paper from his pocket until you get a clear view of it and realize it’s a candid picture of you. sounding hopeful, he offers it to you, “this for your drawing of me.”

“there you are!” LARS says, beaming when he finds you working on an art piece in one of the academy’s studios. “hi,” you smile at him, “why were you looking for me?” lars shrugs, “just wanted to see you.” amused, you roll your eyes at his subtle flirting before getting back to work. you don’t mind lars’ company alongside his occasional praises, varying from that looks nice to i’d buy that. you actually like having him around. lars is going through your artworks when he suddenly speaks, “how much for this?” you tear your eyes away from your canvas to find him having one of your sketchbooks in hand. “which one?” you ask and you can’t even begin to describe your shock when lars turns it over. there it is facing you, the page where you did a drawing of him. you dart towards lars but he quickly gets on his feet, taking advantage of his tall stature to hold the sketchbook out of your reach. “give it back!” you snap but lars only snickers. “how much for this?” he repeats the question, more smugly this time. after a few failed attempts to snatch the sketchbook from his grip, lars eventually decides to hand it over. “you weren’t supposed to see that,” you grumble, tearing off that page and crumpling it into a ball out of embarrassment. you’re about to toss it in the bin when lars takes it from you, flattening the paper to look at the drawing once more. “can i keep it?” he asks sincerely. “it’s just a warmup sketch…” you mumble, your tone a clear contrast to lars’ boldness. for a few seconds, lars doesn’t speak as if he’s forming the words in his head, “did you draw me from memory?” when you give him a sheepish nod, the smirk on his face reappears, “you think about me that much?” you simply groan at his teasing which makes him cackle but he soon backtracks before you can grab the paper from his hand and dispose it. “thank you,” he says, “i really like it.”

you’re rushing to your next class when you run into CLARENCE, causing you both to drop your belongings. “sorry!” you squeak, crouching down to hastily grab your things and with a sigh, clarence follows suit. “running late again?” he teases. you throw him a lighthearted glare at the accusation before grumbling, “our professor dismissed us late.” you hear him chuckle at your retort but the sound comes to an abrupt halt. at his sudden silence, you slide your gaze over to him and you immediately realize why—he’s holding a notebook which is now opened to a page with a rough sketch of him on it. before clarence can say anything, you immediately yank your sketchbook out of his hands and rise to your feet. “um…” you begin to stammer while clarence remains quiet save for the sound he makes when he clears his throat. he’s unable to look you in the eye as he stands upright, now fiddling with his necktie with unadulterated focus. “i swear i’m not a creep or anything,” you explain weakly, a surge of humiliation washing over you, “i was just… practicing.” you wince upon hearing your words and you can’t help but apologize—whether it’s for the sketch or your lame excuse, you’re not sure. maybe both. “i’m sorry,” you tell clarence, “i’ll throw it away.” “don’t,” clarence answers a bit too earnestly that he himself is taken aback. “it’s…” he trails off, looking sheepish, “it’s a really good drawing.” you gape at clarence. that was not reaction you expected from him. saving himself from further fluster, clarence drops the subject and points at the time, “you’re already late for next period.” “shit!” “language,” he scolds you in his student council president tone. “sorry!” you don’t wait for a response before you’re running off to your next class. as clarence watches you disappear from view, he wonders if you’d let him keep the drawing if he asked.

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