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[writervaul-t]

omg… could we get an astarion x reader where the reader is gale’s apprentice? she’s extremely studious and focused on her learning of magic (as gale teaches her to be) and because gale took her on as a young girl she’s never had her first kiss (much less her first time) bc she’s been so focused on her academics… mwahahahahah 😈

notes: reader’s gender isn’t mentioned, but Astarion does call you “little”! (Edit; part 2)

rating: M

words: 1.8k

pairing: astarion x reader

Taglist: bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 (let me know if you want to be added!)

“We hope to see you soon!” calls the cashier from behind the desk, waving amicably as you leave with your arms laden with scrolls and books. You manage a smile over your shoulder, no hand free to return the kind gesture.

“I’m sure you will!” you reply. This is true. Gale has probably spent a small fortune at Sorcerous Sundries, and - with the amount of time he’s been spending with Tav recently - supply runs have fallen to you. Not that you particularly mind. It’s nice to get into the city and get away from your mentor and the de facto leader of your group making heart eyes at each other from across the camp. It’s wonderful that he’s found someone (gods know that he deserves it after all that Mystra business) but he doesn’t have to be so bloody nauseating about it.

You wait for a cart to pass, readjust your hold on the pile, and head across the road. You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called for a second and barrel on ahead - it’s only when you become aware of footsteps approaching that you turn.

Astarion isn’t jogging to catch you, exactly. He’s far too precious for that. But he has increased his speed to close the gap, that little smile on his face which you know can only spell trouble.

“Well, fancy running into you, my dear. Isn’t chance a fine thing?” he purrs. You raise an eyebrow.

“What, you fortuitously meeting me at the only store I ever seem to go to?”

He doesn't reply to that, instead putting a hand on his hip and cocking his head.

“It can be dangerous for a little thing like you to walk around a big city alone. Never know who might take advantage.”

He flashes his fangs with his smile, and you swear your cheeks don’t start to burn.

“I know the route back to camp perfectly well…”

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I join you then? Let me help with those books, they seem to be rather precariously perched.”

You take a moment to look him over. He’s got muscle, of course, you’ve seen him with his shirt off at camp, but you’re certain it’s all for show – you are definitely stronger than he is. Being Gale’s glorified pack mule means you have to be. But, suppressing a smile, you press half of your haul into the elf’s waiting arms and chuckle when he stumbles under the unexpected weight.

“You could suggest to your mentor that he gets into a little more light reading,” he mutters, and that makes you laugh properly. He seems pleased with himself for that. Well, more pleased with himself than he usually is, anyway - so you find yourself walking through the city streets with his company. 

And it’s… nice. You’ve never been sure what to make of Astarion. He’s a bit too cunning for your usual taste in companion, but there can be no doubt that he’s competent. He travels the city streets with a familiar ease, and when he goes to turn down an alleyway mid-conversation, you almost follow him without thinking.

Almost.

“The thing is I’m sure he eats them, but – what are you doing back there? Keep up, I won’t wait for you,” he says, waiting for you. You shuffle awkwardly, and he reads your face without you having to say a word.

“Come now, I’m not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to,” there’s that damned grin again. You harrumph, knowing full well that’s exactly why you hesitated, but not wanting to show weakness in front of him. Nothing that he can use against you. You scuttle along until you make up the distance, and fall back in step.

Soon it’s just the two of you. The city noise dies down and the sound of your boots echoes in tandem with his. He has you completely alone. He could do whatever he wanted with you. You know he wouldn’t, of course, but… you’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t thrill you, just a tiny bit.

Astarion lets out a laugh.

“Your blood’s started pumping faster. Tell me, little mage, is something making your heart pound?”

Oh, right. Vampire. The bastard is uncannily attuned to these things.

“No!” you say, quickly, but there’s not much fire behind it, no real sincerity. His lip quirks. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you know. It’s alright to feel desire. Gale doesn’t seem to take very good care of you, after all…”

That makes you stick your tongue out and gag. You totally ignore the first part of that sentence and spit:

“Eurgh, Gale? Absolutely not! He’s like my brother. We’ve known each other since… well, for as long as I can remember, honestly,” you say. And it’s true. You love him, of course, but not like that. Maybe you’re a bit jealous of Tav but only because they’re taking up so much of his time. You’re desperate to have another magic lesson. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s taught you anything, and you’ve been somewhat demoted to his personal assistant rather than his student. You can’t be too upset, though. He does have that tadpole in his head, so things are probably a lot more pressing to him than teaching you how to properly refine your Fireball spell. 

Astarion sees how introspective you’ve become. You have a habit of chewing on your lip when you’re lost in thought, and he’s become quite partial to it. It’s… sweet. Secretly he’s become quite partial to you. You’re endearing, bullheadedly stubborn, but sincere and enthusiastic. A bright spark in a dark world and he is drawn to you, whether he wants to be or not. 

He’s harbouring something for you, and doesn’t quite want to admit what that might be. So he teases. 

“You really do take up all of your time with studying, don’t you?”

You shrug as much as you can beneath your armful of books. 

“Wouldn’t you, if you had the best tutor around? Wouldn’t you want to learn every single thing you possibly could?”

“All that time squirrelled away over a spell book. I wonder if you’ve ever even been kissed.”

You stop dead. Ah, he thinks. Got you. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you snap, but you know your voice wobbles a little. A bit of a sore spot if you’re honest. Seeing Gale and Tav has made you realise that, actually, maybe there is something you long for. Something more. 

“Ahh, so you haven’t. There’s no shame in that, little mage.”

Your cheeks are burning. You can’t look him in the eye. Thank the gods the two of you are alone, you wouldn’t want anyone to see you so flabbergasted. 

“I’m… you’re…” you struggle to find words to adequately express how you feel. Furious. Embarrassed? A whole tide of things all at once, rooting you to the ground. 

He walks closer. If he was living, you’d be able to feel the heat coming off of him. He puts his pile of books on the top of a part-built wall, then takes yours to do the same. You don’t resist. 

“Would you like to be kissed?”

You manage to drag your eyes up from the ground to meet his gaze, searching it for any hint of insincerity. He is teasing you, a bit, but… his eyes are surprisingly soft. 

He means it. 

And before you can think it over, you nod. 

His lips are soft. Far softer than you expected for a vampire. His kiss gently presses your mouth open, allowing for a lithe and curious swipe of his tongue. You eagerly accept it, voice catching in your throat a little in a half-rendered moan. 

He tastes like mint. It’s fresh. It’s sweet. 

You want more. 

Carefully you put a hand on either one of his biceps, a gentle test of the muscle there. It might be only for show, but it’s firm enough for you to enjoy how it feels in your grip. You sense him smile against your mouth and deepen the kiss, running his fingers up the length of your arm until he can cup your face; grip the back of your head.

When he walks you back to press up against the alleyway wall, you trust him; and when he hooks your collar down with a single long finger, exposing your neck, that half-moan comes back with full force. 

“That’s it,” he sighs, feather-light, “let me hear you, you sweet thing.”

His mouth leaves yours in order to kiss a long line down your jugular. His teeth ghost the skin there, but he never threatens to bite. 

Not unless you want me to. 

You find yourself trusting him absolutely. His tongue flicks against your pulse and you thrust your hips forward inadvertently. It’s an impulse. An instinct. But it has an impact, and you hear Astarion catch his breath just a bit. 

“Where have you been hiding all this?” he asks, gravel filling his voice as you thread your fingers into his hair. 

“Maybe you never gave me a reason to show it to you.”

He seems to like that answer, so when he slips his leg between yours, presses his thigh up to your sex… gods, you start to rock against him without a second thought. 

It’s good. It feels good. Good in a way only your own hands have ever made you feel, late at night, beneath your bedroll with fucking Astarion, Astarion, Astarion running through your head. 

“Look at you. All desperate for me. What do you want me to do, little mage? Where do you want me to touch?”

You take his hand and guide it down your body, yes gods yes to the apex of your legs, and —

Greetings! Hope I’m not catching you at a bad moment, but need those books at camp ASAP. Do let me know when you’ll be back!

Gale’s Sending is like a cold bucket of ice through your body, and you freeze under Astarion’s ministrations. The moment is utterly shattered. A hand on his chest moves him away and he acquiesces, confused but not pushing back. 

“Hello Gale,” you sigh out loud, letting the elf know the reason for the interruption. “Will be back as soon as possible. Not too far from the camp now. Sorry for the delay. Got a little… held up.”

And then you’re just standing there. In an alley. With Astarion. And you feel very silly all of a sudden, very small. Once again your eyes drop to the floor and you start grabbing the books, quickly, anything to distract you from how humiliated you feel. You’re not sure if it’s because you let yourself give into him so easily or if it’s because you didn’t want him to stop — and you’re a bit terrified at how far you’d have let him go. 

“I’ll see you at camp,” you manage to stutter out, before practically running away. 

Astarion watches you go. Your departure stings. 

[writervaul-t]

pressure

pairing: rob x photographer!reader

warnings: none

note: welcome to my rob mini series!! i’ll update parts as they come

this is part 1! | part 2 (not out yet)

———————♡

Setting up camp is.. interesting to say the least. Michelle and James are arguing. About what? You’re not sure. Their words are a quiet background noise as you set up your own tent, on the edge of camp, whilst the others do the same. John is getting a table set up, his research items and different notes being scattered around as he begins to document some things.

The distant arguing continues whilst you grab your camera, attaching a different lens and putting your bag into your tent, walking to the outer edge of camp by the treeline. Lifting it to your face, you begin to get a few shots of your acquaintances. Some of John writing in his notebook, of Lisa and Tim setting up the tent they’ll share, Rob getting a small fire started, taking way too many just to get the right shot. It’ll take hours to go through them all once back at the hotel.

Focused on a shot of the treeline, just getting the edge of a few tents in the shot, you pan back around. Your feet stretch with the way you’re crouched, muscles tired after long hours of hiking, when you notice you don’t see Rob by the fire anymore, just John. Camera being pulled from your face, the looming figure beside you makes your heart jolt.

“Christ, make some damn noise next time.” You startle, huffing a breath of air, tilting your head up to look at Rob. A small laugh breaks out of him, sending butterflies fluttering in your gut.

“I thought it would be funny to sneak up on you.” The sound of James and Michelle arguing gets a bit louder, and it seems as though Rob was searching for an escape from their tension. “I couldn’t be over there another minute listening to those two. How’s the photos coming?”

You falter for just a moment, glancing at your camera before craning your neck back up to him, “Oh um- they’re coming good, the company wants me to get plenty of shots of everyone and where we camp.”

“I bet they do,” Rob’s blues take a glance at the argument further away, before back down to you as he fights the grin forming on his face, “how many pictures do you need of them bitching at each other?” The comment pulls another laugh out of you as you lift your camera again, zooming in and focusing on John as he’s jotting down some notes, bent over his table.

“I’d like to keep it at zero. But if they’re like this the entire trip..” Michelle has been on James’ ass since you all met up, nitpicking the way he acts, the questions he asks. Granted, sometimes he isn’t very professional but this is a new experience for him and personally you enjoy his enthusiasm compared to Michelle’s bluntness. Rob gives a rare chuckle, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you.

“I’m sure James will forget about this in like.. ten minutes.” He observes you for a moment before talking again, “You’re always taking so many pictures. Why so many? Why not just get a few of the entire group?”

“Why so- well, I have to be picky. I snap like ten photos of a singular moment but they’re still all- different.” You look up at him, neck craning at you explain, “Nothing can be captured twice, whether it’s a specific position, feeling, the lighting, so I take a lot when I do capture stuff and once I go through them all I can hand pick the ones that-..” You pause, face beginning to flush when you realize you started to word vomit, “Sorry. Basically, I’m picky.”

“No it’s okay.” Rob assures, the smile on his face still there, those butterflies in your belly still there. “It’s just-.. Interesting you find the value in capturing those individual moments- capturing time.” He shifts his weight on his feet, hip cocked out to one side, arms crossed but he seems.. relaxed.

Standing to your full height, staring down at you camera, you continue, “You like experiencing the moments. I like experiencing them as well, don’t get me wrong, but I like capturing them too. Having physical proof of that moment or time.. is nice.”

“You like documenting things.” Rob muses aloud. He’s still a bit withdrawn, but this is the most he’s engaged with any of the group when it wasn’t necessary besides John. He seems to be thinking about your words, “You like having physical proof of things that are gone otherwise?”

A huff of a laugh escapes your lips, “If you’re making fun of me now, then you’d faint if you seen the bookshelf in my living room. Half of it is photo albums.” You play on the screen of your camera, adjusting some lighting settings.

“Why so attached to the past?” He asks. His attention wanes to the other two still being snappy with each other, struggling to put up their tent as John steps in to help. “I get having momentos sure, but why the obsession with documenting everything?” His words aren’t harsh, just merely curious. It’s obvious to him that this job, the act of photography itself, means a lot to you.

“Not really obsessed but-..” You think for a moment, eyes squinting in the sunlight as you lift your camera up again, “more like.. I want the physical memories. Everything’s become so digital that… I mean if I have kids in the future and then they have kids, I want to have things to pass down to them, and when I’m older I’ll want this proof of everything I’ve experienced.” Rob turns toward you, his eyes squinting from the same ray of setting sunlight, seeming genuinely intrigued.

“So you’re a romantic?” The words leave him with a little smile over his pretty lips. “You know, I can’t say I’ve ever thought about how I’d like to prove my time in this world. I’ve always tried to live more in the present.”

Color blooms on your cheeks as he hits the nail on the head, you are very much a romantic. “Sometimes what I do is just capturing the moment, taking a simple photo to be used for stock or something.” Your shoulders shrug, eyes narrowing overtop your camera as Michelle seems to still be arguing with James whilst John sets their tent up.

A few paces away, their little argument is continuing on, but Rob seems eager to just not pay much attention to it. “I guess I can see the appeal.” He muses, eyes trained on you, “So you keep albums with these photos? Do you frame them?”

You nod, pulling the camera away from your face. No use taking photos of them fighting. “I frame some. Only really special ones. But I have albums for different jobs or trips, family stuff.”

The sun is setting, just barely peeking through the trees and lighting up the clearing the group settled to camp in. “Makes sense, how many albums do you have?”

Letting out a heavy breath, a hint of a laugh on it, you shrug, “God I dunno, I don’t think I’ve ever counted.”

“Over ten?”

“Definitely.” Another nod and laugh from you, turning to look up at him. He stands at least a foot taller.

“You realized that’s abnormal, right? Most people don’t even think about keeping one physical album.”

“That’s the point!” You defend, “No one really keeps physical photos anymore! It’s all digital. And, while digital is great and all, it takes one mistake for it all to be gone in an instant.”

His eyebrows raise, really listening, actually interested, “So you’re stockpiling photos because you’re.. afraid of breaking your laptop?”

A deadpan look crosses your face, staring up at him, “Yes, that’s the entire reason I went to college and studied for this to be my job for the rest of my life.” The words leave you sarcastically as you power off your camera.

“That’s one way to look at it.” A chuckle leaves Rob, arms still crossed over his broad chest. His eyes glance back to the others to find all tents up, everyone beginning to gather around the fire he started before, “Ready to join the others?”

With a glance up at him, he gestures for you to go first, and follows behind as you go to join the rest of the group. It’s been a long day, between finding out the area you were meant to camp and survey had been totally deforested, finding one of the men from the logging company, to getting ditched by one of the guides, Carlos, you’re all definitely tired. James films some more whilst you all sit around the fire and have something to eat, making low conversation between mainly James and whoever he asks a question to. Bidding everyone goodnight as they scatter to their tents, fire dulled down to just hot embers, you go to sleep.

—

A low growling wakes you, your watch says 3:27AM, and the nightlife of the jungle is just as loud as it is in the daytime. Shuffling around in your sleeping bag, groggy, your ears strain to listen. Something’s stomping around the camp, sniffing, huffing, growling even, and it doesn’t sound familiar to any larger predators you’ve heard before. It sets your nerves alight, some instinctive feeling of fear building in your gut. But thankfully, it goes away quickly. The footsteps and clattering of it knocking some of the metal camping items fades away to the usual jungle life noises, animals chattering or sounding out different calls. The day was tiring enough that it lulls you back to sleep quite quickly.

—

Morning comes soon enough, the sun rising and everyone waking naturally to the sound of different animal calls and the noise of John and Rob rousing first. It’s an uneventful morning, someone brewing a little pot of coffee over the fire which you are so thankful for when Rob fills your thermos. A quiet thanks is said before you just observe the others, watching John pick up the small table that was knocked over last night. You want to ask about the animal, ask if either John or Rob know what it was exactly, but it doesn’t seem like the right moment. Everyone’s groggy, quiet, getting coffee in their thermos’, short words exchanged as they all wake up. John wastes no time in gathering everyone up though, ready for a few hours of hiking and exploring.

—

A couple of hours of hiking warrants a break, stopping by the river crowded by rocks and a waterfall no taller than you. Everyone scatters around, Maria by herself, John and Rob sat together exchanging some words and getting some water, Lisa collecting some more moss in her little tubes. This is the perfect opportunity to get some landscape shots, collecting your camera and sitting down at the edge of the water.

Eyes are on you though, Rob’s deep blues unable to stop from wandering to you as you just.. simply do your job. His thoughts are interrupted when John speaks, “Enjoying the view?”

“Shut up.” The quip leaves Rob’s lips as he averts his eyes away, making John laugh.

“Okay.” He sees how his best friend acts around you, understands that there’s something more there than just friendly, “Why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

Rob gawks for a moment before schooling his expression and clearing his throat, “We’re- colleagues John, it’s-”

“Not technically. She’s just contracted on this job. Not like she works with us all the time.”

“It’s still different.” Rob argues back softly. He’s avoiding the point, because he knows deep down he just doesn’t have the courage to ask you out yet. It’s just not a risk he’s willing to take.

“Coward.” John mutters, fishing his water bottle from his pack and taking a sip. Rob ignores him, watches as you step from the edge of the small hill to look down at your camera. Something spurs him to his feet, moving towards you. “Go get ‘em tiger.” A smack lands on the back of Rob’s leg from John, making him scowl as the other laughs at him, loving that he’s aggravating him.

A flash of a middle finger makes John crack up again, before Rob appears by your side, “Hey,”

Flicking your gaze up to him, you greet back with a smile, “Hi.”

Just that single word makes his heart pound a bit, lifts his mood just a little, “Getting some good photos?”

A nod, “Yeah, they wanted me to get a lot of landscape photos but.. probably won’t even use half of what I submit. They always do that..” Your attention is focused on the screen of your camera, flicking through the various snapshots you just got of the river and small waterfall.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Rob leans in just a hair more, smelling your natural scent and something faint like a sweet shampoo. It sends his nerves alight, making him swallow. Despite that dull feeling that swirls in his gut, he really is curious about your pictures. Never having a reason to deny him, you shake your head and step closer to him, tilting the camera screen towards him so he can hopefully see well despite the rays of sun peeking through the treetops. He really can’t tell the difference between them… maybe the rushing water or the physical angle you used.. but his inexperienced eye can’t tell much other than they’re pretty photos.

His hand moves, some instinctive action to rest on the small of your back, since you’re both stood by the edge of the hill. He’s so hyper aware of how close you are, how good you smell, it’s clouding his brain in the worst way possible. How much larger he is than you, his hand splays over your back nearly covering the width of it.. God.

“I probably got my feet wet for nothing, I bet they won’t even use the ones from in the water.” Your voice snaps him out of it, eyes focusing back on the camera. Then he notices your shoes and bottom of your cargos are wet, you must’ve stepped into the river when he wasn’t looking, too occupied being teased by John. He swallows again, staring as you flick through a few more before his eyes flit to your face.

“Even if that’s the case- I mean- they’re still really good.” He’s struggling to find the right words, actually stumbling over his sentence and that makes some embarrassed heat rise to his face. It’s easy to excuse it on the humidity though.

Your shoulder brushes against his chest when you glance up at him, sending a ripple of electricity up his spine, flashing your cute smile up at him, “Thanks, if anything I’ll pick out a few and they’ll go into the album for this trip.”

“Maybe you could send them to me sometime.” He offers, the words leaving his mouth before his brain even comprehends them. It causes you to falter, not expecting him to suggest that, before your smile grows and so does the size of his heart.

“Yeah? I mean- yeah I can, if you’d like. Just remind me when we get back.”

The butterflies in his gut are going insane, normally he can control himself but.. maybe it’s the closer proximity, your scent, maybe it’s even just the moment itself. His eyes dart from your own to your lips, back and forth, doing a shitty job at hiding it. Fortunately for him, and unfortunately for you, or maybe the other way around, you’re a terrible flirt, so you don’t really notice.

The distant raising of Maria’s voice pulls you both from the moment, looking over towards the edge of the trail where both Maria and Michelle, with James filming per usual, are stood, “No you don’t get it! You don’t want to know what it was!” The raised tone of her thick accent catches everyone else's attention as you both move over, and John is also joining in to try and separate them, but Maria keeps going, “There are thing’s here you couldn’t even begin to comprehend! You treat this jungle with no respect.” She sidesteps John and he goes between the two women, trying to calm them down.

John tries to de-escalate, speaking to Maria whilst glancing between her and James who’s still filming, “I can promise you that we are treating this area with the utmost respect, okay? Okay?” Maria ignores him and moves towards the trail, clearly ready to move on as John turns to James and Michelle to scold them both.

“We just wanna know what was in camp last night!” James defends, but it only aggravates John further.

“Listen- I will look at the tracks when we get back, okay? I’m sure I can figure out what they are. But for now, stop. You're making this harder than it needs to be.” He turns towards the group as they’re gathered on the trail, eager to move on from this moment.

“Well..” You start, muttering quietly mainly to Rob beside you. He was waiting to see if he needed to step in, now watching as James and Michelle grab their bags. “I was curious about whatever animal it was too but.. guess I’m glad I wasn’t the first to ask.” There’s a dry amusement to your tone that makes Rob give a small chuckle.

Your group carries on, a tense quiet besides some muttering between the pairs, and eventually Rob catches up to John with the intent on asking him a question, but the latter speaks first, “That was painful to watch.”

A hum of agreement escapes the taller one accompanied by a nod, “Mm.. things are tense enough since Carlos left us.”

“I’m talking about your shit attempt at flirting.”

That same aggravation rises in Rob again, “Shut it.”

John snorts a laugh, giving him a nudge on the arm, “I just like pushing your buttons mate, I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“And you never will again.” He retorts back. John knows Rob, and his teasing is making him suddenly feel self conscious over this entire thing. “Just shut up before I shove you off this trail.”

There’s the Rob he knows, making John laugh and raise his hands in defense, falling into conversation about the trail up ahead.

—

A couple of tense hours pass before the group decides to rest again to eat some lunch, whatever dried foods and non perishable items that have been packed, most of the food was in the car Carlos left in..

Everyone scatters into their usual pairs, sat eating jerky or other items and having some water. You’re munching on some trail mix, picking out the good bits, wired earbuds in your ears connected to your iPod. Rob sees you alone, feels this.. odd sense of protection, wanting to be close, so he goes with it, walking over with his water, “Mind if I join you?”

Grinning up as he approached, you muse softly as you pat the ground beside you, “Awfully chatty today, am I your favorite?” As he grins down at you, you hold your trail mix bag out as an offering.

He smirks a bit, watching as you pull an earbud from your right ear as he sits next to you, long legs stretching out alongside yours, scooping out a small handful of trail mix, “Oh absolutely, you’re the highlight of my life.” His tone is laced with amusement and a hint of sarcasm. His tone makes you snort a laugh, taking a sip of water whilst your other hand lifts your camera up, as you were in the middle of looking through some things, lifting it to take some photos of everyone resting. “Do you actually keep most of these photos, or do you just take them so you have an excuse to not socialize with everyone else?”

“You caught me,” the amusing accusation pulls a small laugh from you, giving him a glance before looking back through your camera, “I don’t keep every photo, but I’ll keep one or two from each group. So, a couple of the water from earlier, one of these now.”

“I figured as much,” He hums, fishing out a little bag of jerky from his pack, “How much are they willing to pay for those anyway?”

“You’d probably faint if I told you.” Pulling your camera down, you look at the few you just snapped, “Is Michelle still scowling?”

That question turns Rob’s attention to said woman, seeing her with.. indeed quite a sour look on her face. “Like she’s trying to shoot daggers with her eyes.” He confirms.

“She’s ruining the damn pictures,” You complain softly, glancing at Rob as he chews. Scooting a few inches away to twist towards him, you lift your camera again and snap some photos. It catches him off guard when he glances at you, a slight heat forming on his face.

“Hey, what’re you-”

“Shh shh, just look the other direction.” Your hand waves a little, wanting him to turn his head towards the group rather than look directly at you. He gets a slightly indifferent look on his face, almost like he doesn’t wanna listen, but he has no reason not to, so he turns the way he was again. Grinning behind your camera, you snap a few and then lower it to look at them. One of them caught that look on his face, like he wanted to frown or pout, and it’s so cute you feel your heart do a little flip. Scooting back next to him, you speak again, “Much better.”

He laughs along with your little chuckle, finishing chewing his bite of jerky, “So, how do I fare in your professional opinion?”

“Quite nice,” You muse, smiling as you tilt the camera so he can see, “much better than Michelle’s scowl.” The photos are simple, they’re.. him. He doesn’t see the appeal really but they are a nice quality. He thinks they’re okay, he just isn’t used to his photo being taken. Still, there’s a small smile on his lips that prompts you to speak again, “I can send these to you too, if you’d like.”

His smile widens even by just a bit, nodding, “Mm, yeah.”

“Is she still scowling?”

Another soft huff of laughter, “Yeah, guess she didn’t like being told off.”

You groan a little, lifting your camera to get some photos of Lisa scraping up some moss at the base of a tree, “Would it be mean to go tell her to fix her face so I can do my job?”

That pulls an unexpected laugh from Rob, louder than the other softer huffs before, and it makes something flip-flop in your stomach. You have to look over at him, because that might be the loudest thing you’ve heard from him when he isn’t yelling at someone. “Shut up, I’m serious!”

He laughs a little more, nodding like he believes you, “I think she’d eat you alive before that happens.” Looking through your camera again, you see her sour expression as she’s even glancing over at the two of you, curious as to what’s so funny.

It pulls a giggle out of you as you nod to him, “Yeah, she might kill me.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Yeah, okay, you’d grab some popcorn and sit back.”

He laughs again, watching as you start to put your camera back into its little bag, “Mm, I could do that. Who needs entertainment when you’re on the trail with a couple of ladies getting into a cat fight?”

“Give me that, I’m done sharing with you.” You playfully grab your trail mix back, the bag having been in between the two of you. He plays along and huffs like he’s annoyed.

“Oh c’mon, y’want me to starve?”

“I think you’ll live.” You start to fish out some of the m&m’s from the mix, the half melted candy smearing colors onto your fingertips.

“Those are my favorite y’know.” He hums, trying to push your buttons on purpose. He likes playing around with you, he doesn’t do this with anyone else.

You give him a look, like are you serious? before looking back down at the bag of assorted nuts and dried fruits, picking out some more of the candy. You know he’s just playing, but you speak anyway, “Hold out your hand.”

Rob stares for a second, almost not listening but something in him is compelled to, so he does. His hand flattens out, palm up, watching as you drop the candies into his hand. His heart does a little flip, grinning before popping the m&m’s into his mouth in one go, the half melted chocolate almost as sweet as you. “I knew you really liked me.” He murmurs, voice laced with a teasing tone.

“Oh shut up.” You laugh it off, but the moment between you two has your heart pounding a bit harder, skin tingling where it had met his larger hand when you gave him the candy.

———————♡

[writervaul-t]

In which Astarion rejects Tav

or Tav gets hanahaki disease

dedicated to @bubblegumbitchs-world thank you for the request :* let me know if you’d like this written a different way i am here to please you sire!!

Warnings: Body horror, I got a little carried away with the idea of flower blooming in someone’s chest sorry sorry

Disclaimer: IDK much about the true order of events in the game sorry is all over the place!

Astarion had flat out rejected Tav. It had stung. He wasn't delicate with it either. Sneering at the idea of sex with them and then laughing about it. Tav had shrugged it off, hoping he couldn't see the tears starting to leak out as they realized their romantic feelings were not at all reciprocated. It was just a crush, it would pass. But then it didn't. It got so much worse.

Tav had tried to keep their relationship with Astarion platonic, pushing their feelings down. Every time he sat next to them they tried to ignore the way their skin flushed and their heartbeat sped up. He had to know what he was doing.

Astarion was fully aware of what he was doing. He was toying with Tav's blatant crush on him. It was useful to have the group's fearless leader develop a soft spot for him. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought of that before rejecting them with little tact. It hadn't seemed to dull their desires for him, thank the gods. He needed to be better about planning his schemes. He was lucky they still let him drink from them.

But things had gotten strained between them. Tav was behaving strangely and their was something off in their blood. It now tasted slightly, floral. Curious. He missed the sweet taste.

Tav had also been steeling off more for time alone. Astarion saw the pain in their eyes and feared he was taking this teasing a bit too far, he needed to reel them back in. Throw them a bone.

Something was wrong inside of Tav's chest. At first they thought it was just congestion, they'd been travelling in the cold for a while and it wouldn't be out of the question. But then the blood started coming. It hurt, ripped through their throat as they coughed and coughed hoping it would bring some relief.

They were going to go to Shadowheart, finally fed up with the unrelenting pain when a flower petal came out with the blood. Horror and embarrassment filled Tav. They knew what this was. It was a disease whispered about and used to make tragic romance stories more dramatic. Tav had never considered they'd get it.

Did they really love Astarion? It hadn't even been six months since they'd found him after the crash and he'd held a knife to their throat. Sure, they thought of him all the time and felt more alive than they had ever felt when in his presence, but was that love? The proof was staring at them in the blood covered petals they had just vomited up on the forest floor.

This disease also had another factor that didn't surprise Tav but still hurt to have confirmed so . . . viscerally. Unrequited love caused this. Astarion didn't love Tav back. Hells he barely even liked them.

Hunched over and away from camp, Tav took deep breaths to calm their racing heart as they weighed their options. This condition was deadly if left untreated and it could only be treated by the love being requited, out of the question, or surgery. Ok, surgery was doable. They could speak with Volo. He'd offered to remove the mind flayer through surgery, an offer Tav was still pissed none of their companions had allowed them to take, surely he could remove this.

With one last body racking cough, Tav wiped the blood from the mouth and stood up to make way back to the camp before anyone noticed their prolonged absence. Their chest still burned, they could feel the petals forming and pushing against their ribcage. Rubbing at the spot the pain was most prominent, they began to trudge back to camp.

Astarion had been eyeing the spot of forest Tav had disappeared to. He was sitting outside his tent trying to seem casual with a book in his lap but his gaze hadn't left the spot Tav was last visible. Worry began to worm its way into his chest, an uncomfortable feeling. Tav was slowly endearing themselves to him. They respected his rejection and never pushed him, something he had not expected. He hadn't thought his telling them he didn't want to have sex with them that night would quell any further advancement. It was nice that his no had been respected. He hadn't been respected in centuries.

Tav was also just so annoyingly kind and while at first it grated him beyond belief, as that kindness was turned toward him he saw its appeal. This friendship where they never pushed him for a spot in his bedroll was surprisingly nice. It was slowly making him want more, an ironic development.

His train of thought was halted by the smell of Tav's blood hitting him. Tav was bleeding. The thought rang out in his head as Astarion stood and practically sprinted towards them.

Tav was halfway back when Astarion ran up on them. At first their heart fluttered at the idea that he had noticed their absence, but then another coughing fit hit them. A bodily reminder that they didn't mean to him what he meant to them.

Astarion panicked at the blood seeping from Tav's mouth. He bounded to them, grabbing their facing gently as he tried to examine their face. Was it a cut in their mouth or internal bleeding?

"Tav what happened? Where are you hurt?" His voice filled with panic.

Tav meant something to him, a surprising revelation. He felt their pain in his own chest as they met his eyes. A tenderness Astarion had forgotten his was capable of came out as Tav's eyes filled with tears. His thumbs rubbed up and down their cheeks in an effort to catch the tear tracks and soothing noises came from his mouth. Astarion had no control over it, his body's desperation to comfort this person an uncontainable thing. But this wasn't just a person, this was Tav. Tav who was willing to fight for him, respect him, and care for him in ways he didn't even deserve before he was turned into a damned undead thing of the night.

"When did this injury happen dear?" Astarion's voice was a whisper soaked in a saccharine feeling he wouldn't name.

A cough racked through Tav and they ducked away from him. Astarion smelled the blood as it poured from their mouth. Tav doubled over moaning, "Please go back to camp, I don't want you to see me like this."

Astarion scoffed. They'd seen his fucking scars but he couldn't see them sick? How unfair and hypocritical. Tav knew nearly everything about him from how Cazador had tortured him to how he had been forced to use his body for his master's gain. He knew most of Tav's own story, but this mistrust in him and unwillingness to be as open as they had made him stirred familiar feelings of hatred and contempt in him. This was easier. He leaned into it.

"Fine," he spat holding up his hands and taking a step back, "die alone and in the forest for all I care. I just thought you'd allow me to help you after you pulled every deep dark secret out of me. I suppose gathering information of people while keeping your own secrets under lock and key is just how you manipulate us all into following you as our benevolent leader."

Tav looked up at him at that. He knew exactly where to aim his dagger to fatally wound their heart. Tav had never felt assured in their role as the leader of this ragtag group and him confirming their fears about themselves was the worst thing he could say to Tav.

Before they could respond their body was overcome by another bought of coughing. Something came out along with the blood and Astarion forgot his anger. Tav fell to their knees and clawed at their chest.

"Shit!" Astarion yelled as he knelt down next to Tav, once again reaching for them assessing for injury.

"Please tell me what's wrong, I'll take you to Shadowheart. Please Tav," Astarion didn't know what he was pleading for anymore.

Tav looked up at him again, blood pooling from their mouth. They coughed again and spit out a petal. What the fuck? Astarion went to pick it up and examine it but Tav grabbed his wrist. He looked into Tav's eyes and saw such desperation it made him want to vomit. What was wrong with them? He wanted his annoying yet charmingly cheerful companion back.

"Go away please," Tav begged.

"Why? Why won't you let me help you?" Astarion grabbed Tav by the shoulders to hold them up as he seethed.

Tav just shook their head and tried to hold in their cough. Blood began to dribble out of both sides of their mouth, running down their chin. Their eyes rolled back in their head. Tav finally coughed and opened their mouth, petals soaked in their blood sliding out.

Astarion had no idea what was wrong with them and that made him panic harder. Tav's body started to go slack. He easily caught them and lifted them into his arms. He cradled their head into his chest as coughs continued to rack through their body.

Tav wanted to apologize for getting blood and petals all over his shirt but their voice wouldn't come. It was getting harder and harder to breath. Their vision was going black around the edges.

Astarion felt Tav's body getting weaker and weaker. He sprinted back to the camp screaming desperately for Shadowheart. It wasn't his proudest moment, he completely lost his composure. At least it terrified everyone enough to get Tav immediate help.

Shadowheart couldn't treat them, nothing was working. She'd cast some spells that allowed them to sleep and made the coughing die down a bit, but they still looked deathly. No one knew what the petals they were hacking up were. Gale had taken one to his tent for examination. They deduced it must be some sort of fungal infection but no one knew how to fucking fix it. They were all useless and he told them as much.

Astarion was the only one who sat with Tav all night. Holding their hand, wiping the sweat off their forehead, and speaking soothing words whenever they stirred awake. They mumbled his name whenever that happened and it made his chest constrict.

He had vowed long ago to never beg, plead, or pray ever again. It had never done him any good. But tonight he broke that vow, pleading with any god he could with the same desperation he used to pray for release from Cazador. But now he was praying for Tav. Begging for salvation, for them to open their eyes and smile shyly under his gaze. He needed to hear their voice, he needed them be ok.

He needed Tav.

The realization hit him like a truck. He wasn’t supposed to care for them, hells he’d been planning to seduce them and manipulate their feelings for him. This feeling was never part of any of his half-baked plans. But here it was.

As Astarion sat having an internal crisis, the pain in Tav’s chest began to ease. The pressure on their ribcage began to recede. The blooming flowers began to curl inward and disappear.

Tav awoke gasping for air as the passage finally cleared. They clawed at their chest once more, spasming a bit on the bedroll as they searched for the pain that was no longer there.

Astarion was on them in an instant, hovering and assessing what was wrong. He’d shrieked again for Shadowheart fearing this was the end of this person he’d only just realized he held affections for.

But when Tav sat up with ease and laughed, Astarion lunged for them. He meant it to be more malicious, he was still furious with them, but his arms just engulfed them in a hug. Clutching them to his chest, Astarion didn’t even register the tears of relief falling as he was too engrossed in the sound of their breathing and steady heartbeat.

Tab gripped him just as hard as they realized they were completely cured. The disease was gone without a trace. Their lungs felt better than ever. And Astarion loved them. He loved them. What a magical thing that was.

A/N: This took forever bc my niece gave me the gift of illness for Christmas love her though! Let me know what you think, I’ve never read a hanahaki disease fic before this request so I hope I did the iconic trope justice. <3

[writervaul-t]

Ghost of You - Jason Todd

summary: In which Jason Todd does what he thinks is best, and you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind.

pairings: Jason Todd x f!reader

warnings: mention of canon typical violence, angst, cursing

word count: 1k

a/n: i would like to apologize in advance for this one 😭😭 i was in an angst type of mood, i hope you like it!! - luna <3

reblogs are appreciated!!

You didn’t sleep most nights. 

Sometimes you felt the ghost of his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your arm the way he used to love to do. Sometimes you’d dream that you were in bed and he was there sleeping next to you. In those dreams you took the opportunity to watch him, memorizing every detail of his face. Every scar. The small movements of his nostrils as he breathed peacefully. You’d remember the feeling of his rough hands holding you so gently. Like he was terrified of breaking you. 

But then you’d wake up to the cold empty space beside you, nothing but unwashed linen sheets filling the space because you didn’t want to wash away the scent that remained. The scent of him. 

Sometimes, when you’d first wake up, still groggy from your slumber, you’d think Jason was in the kitchen fixing up your favorite breakfast. Like he always did on lazy mornings. Only he was never there. Not anymore.

It was stupid. It was so stupid. The way you still thought about him. The way he just gave up. The way he thought he had control over what was best for you. 

And you were heartbroken. But you were also angry. 

So, so angry. 

You’d told him. You’d told him over and over that being with him was your decision, that risking your safety was never even a question for you when it came to being with him. You knew you’d always turn out okay, as long as you had him by your side. 

Yet he never seemed to listen. 

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of replaying that night over and over in your head. It was torture. 

“Jason-” 

“No. Do not even try to justify anything that just happened Y/n.” 

You paused. He never called you by your first name. Never.  You tried not to focus on it. “I’m not. But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault-” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it was my fault, do you honestly think Black Mask would just kidnap you for fun? Are you that naive to think that you were not put at risk today because your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood?” He dragged a hand over his face, he was pacing. His hands were shaky. You could have died. It would have been his fault had he not arrived when he did. 

“I am not naive, Jason. I am a grown woman and I knew damn well what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m not afraid of anything as long as I’m with you.” 

He laughed dryly, “Bravery and the power of love won't keep you alive, Y/n. I can’t lose you. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” 

“You never have been and you never will be. Just– Please. I need you to understand that.” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling with tears, what he didn’t understand is it hurt you so, so much to see him in pain. You couldn’t lose him either. And he was constantly risking his life, you’d almost lost him far too many times. 

He turned away from you. He couldn’t see you cry right now. He needed the shred of strength he had left to protect you. For good. 

He turned to you, “I’ve been a selfish piece of shit my whole life. And I can’t– Fuck. I can’t keep putting how I feel first at the expense of your safety. You deserve a normal life. Not whatever the fuck I dragged you into.” 

“Jason. What the fuck are you saying right now.” You didn’t want to believe it. 

He didn’t look at you. He knew the moment he looked into your tear-filled eyes he’d take it back instantly. He’d apologize, bring you you to bed and hold you, peppering your face with sweet, gentle kisses. He’d drag you right back into the cycle he’d trapped you in.

You wished he would. 

“Jason.” 

“I’m leaving, Y/n. You need someone who can take care of you. Who can give you what you deserve. I have to let you go.” 

“Are you shitting me? I want you. No one else. This is not your decision to make.” 

He started walking towards the door. “I’m sorry.”  He refused to turn around, his eyes filling up with tears as he walked further towards the door, his hand on the doorknob. 

“I want you to know that right now, you, Jason Todd, are hurting me more than anyone else ever could.” 

There was a pause before he turned the doorknob, opening it and stepping out. “You’ll survive.” 

That was the last time you spoke to him. 

Over and over. The memory replayed in your mind. Every night you dreamed of him, you dreamed he never left, that he had put aside his own pride and just listened to you. That he had just let you be there for him. 

You had no idea where he was. You were constantly looking at your phone. Constantly. Waiting, hoping that you’d get a call from him, telling you he was sorry. That he wanted to come back to you. That you’d make it work.

But it never came. And deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. 

So every day you tormented yourself with dreams of him. Thoughts of him. Remembering the feeling of his arms snaking around your waist as you made your morning coffee. The feeling of him plopping his tired body onto yours after a long day, running your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your chest. 

No thermal or weighted blanket provided the warmth and the security that he did. No pillow you hugged felt as comforting as hugging him did. No comedy you watched was as funny as when you watched it with him. No jacket you owned was as warm as the one he would drape over your shoulders while you were out together and it started to get cold. 

You lived with constant reminders that he was gone. Constant echoes of his previous presence. 

You could only hold on to the ghost of him that remained in your cold apartment. 

[writervaul-t]

The Fangs Between Us [Masterlist]

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, lovers to exes to friends to lovers again (it's a lot)

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts [to be added].

1 : as i breathe my last 2 : the space between us 3 : the hate between us 4 : the door between us 5 : the stairs between us 6 : the air between us 7 : the friends between us 8 : the blade between us 9 : the problems between us 10 : the embarrassment between us

11…

If you prefer to read on AO3 :)

[writervaul-t]

i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

[writervaul-t]

i remember her hands. and the way the mountains looked.

"With the return of the sky people, our journey led us far, far up the horizon, where a towering mountain stood. Beyond the winding paths of its rocky terrain, nestled in the heart of nature's embrace, lay the village of the Iuva'ri clan—the ikran people of the mountains." In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

read it on AO3!

i. the meeting

ii. a challenge

iii. karyu

iv. i see you

v. the ascent

vi. 🙈

...and more!

art —

y/n the korhe iumayi'ite

[writervaul-t]

— the one ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; neteyam was beginning to court you, much to your elation. each time he showed you how much you meant to him, you only fell more in love with him.

word count ; 10.3k (we don’t talk about it)

themes ; fluff, soon-to-be mates

warnings ; tooth-rotting fluff, vv brief mentions of worrying over someone’s well-being, uses of y/n.

author’s note ; i can’t tell if this got slightly worse as it neared the end but we’re just gonna leave it bc i do like it. i mean, who doesn’t like the idea of neteyam courting them??? also, this is my longest fic yet & it wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this long but i just got carried away bc i love neteyam so much. sue me. 

main masterlist  request a fic!

Keep reading

[writervaul-t]

The Lost Clan - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Navigation

Warnings: none

Pairings: neteyam x fem!sarentu reader

Notes: so no one is confused the war was short but the sarentu stayed "hidden" they just kept wandering for years, until the reader is about 18years old and they come out of hiding by going to the zeswa first.

all the navi clans had come to the conclusion that the rda desecrated the whole sarentu clan no one knew were they went they just disappeared off the maps. they search for their sister clan after the war only finding their camp destroyed, still having hope they continued their search but to no avail no one could find a trace.

a few years later...

your clan flew upon the backs of ikrans towards the upper plains as you got to the outskirts of their camp a warrior sounded the horn and the zeswa stopped what they were doing and walked towards the front of the camp. you watched with a smile on your face seeing the plains again, the direhorses, the sounds it was different you had temek land next to your fathers ikran before dismounting her.

the cheif of the zeswa stepped forward "brother, the sarentu have returned to share our stories" you father said with a large smile plastered on his face the zeswa made sounds of cheer "welcome home brother."

that night we sat near the fire having a feast because of your peoples return, you shared stories, memories with all these people that night was filled with many happy memories and even a bead was added to everyone's songcord a bead for the return of the sarentu.

--

you sat by the river watching as it moved never stopping even if it was only for a moment. the celebration being heard within limits behind you before you heard footsteps approaching you "what is bothering you, my dewdrop?" the sound of that nickname made you smile your father has always called you that "just thinking," he sat down next to you waiting for you to continue "about how much we've missed these pasted years, and how much pandora has changed."

your father smiled gently at you before giving you a hug "we sarentu are connected to the people, and to eywa, although it may seem like we've missed a lot we truly haven't, we are just like a river constantly in motion no matter. what lands in our path"

--

a week later your clan was on the move again and word travels fast but as do rumors, and these soon reached the ears of the omatikaya people.

it was dusk and neteyam was doing his best to help out around the new home tree with chores and traing to become the new clan leader and overheard two girls talking about these rumors "excuse me what did you say?" he asked the two girls "people are saying the sarentu have returned and are sharing their stories and songs once again, can you believe that is sounds almost to good to be true, the rda eliminated all of them didn't they?"

neteyam had already tuned the girls out his mind already clouded with memories of you both together how you to had become close in such short time, would he remember what you looked like, would you remember him, his mind was racing he was excited and scared. after he saw you and your sister in your father's arms and the rda soldier right behind he thought the worst, his assumptions were deemed correct when the hunting party came back saying the sarentu came was destroyed along with no sign of you and your people.

as he walked into his family's shared hut he heard his mother's gasp as jake told her the news that the sarentu had indeed returned "ma jake do you think this could be true?" he stood there for a minute thinking "possibly they could have ran off and hid from the rda and kept moving, but that'd be hard to do considering its the rda." jake said to neytiri.

neytiri went back to making her paste for the hunters wounds, jake went back to cleaning his gun, for a mission they had soon. neteyam stood there messing with his fruit as loak and spider we're doing dumb stuff.

after the conversation jake had with neytiri they stopped speaking both wondering if it was true or just a rumor, it seemed more likely the rda killed the whole clan that would make the most sense "jake-" neytiri was cut off at the sound of the horn being sounded by the warrior who was keeping watch.

copyright © 2023 avatarl0v3r - on tumblr. do not translate/ remake/repost my works in any platform without authorized permission.

[writervaul-t]

masterlist

updated. april 11, 2020

☆ — NSFW

♡ — personal favorites

⁂ sally face ⁂

↣ sal fisher

⟼ headcanons

if sal was your boyfriend

friends with benefits

gentle/mom friend crush ♡

sal seeing his s/o cry

domestic headcanons

s/o who writes poetry

sal getting over a breakup

s/o who uses sign language

s/o who plays an instrument

s/o who doodles on random things

male s/o who is basically just one big meme

person of color s/o

sal’s child walks for the first time

sal’s child gets injured

s/o who has a dog

innocent s/o says something dirty

s/o who does the ‘ahegao’ face ☆

s/o who has nipple piercings ☆

giving sal a handjob in public ☆

⟼ scenarios

deserving

how can i love you if i can’t even love myself?

valentine’s day

how can i hate valentines day when you’re looking at me with those eyes?

“oh, you’re jealous!”

sal has nothing to be jealous of when you love him that much.

healing scars (trigger warning: depression, mentions of self harm)

you both had scars, some cut deeper than the others. but even still, you persevered, hand in hand.

makeout couch

it’s hard for sal to ignore you when you’re kissing down his neck and running your hands up his chest.

moments ♡

live in the moment with the one you love, feat. ice cold slushies, snacks, and kisses.

pink lacies

who knew panties could be that pink?

”why are you so jealous?”

you wanted sal, but larry wanted you.

↣ larry johnson

⟼ headcanons

gentle/mom friend crush

s/o who writes poetry

s/o who plays an instrument

s/o who doodles on random things

s/o who is allergic to weed

larry’s shy crush tries to ask him out

larry’s child walks for the first time

s/o who is secretly dirty ☆

s/o who does the ‘ahegao’ face ☆

giving larry a handjob in public ☆

⟼ scenarios

little badass ♡

after witnessing the new girl punch travis phelps square in the jaw, larry has a newfound goal to score a date with her.

stay happy

larry knows something is wrong. you can always talk to him, you know that right?

sleepy

you come home to find larry asleep with your child in his arms.

talk me to sleep

larry’s voice is surprisingly relaxing.

↣ ashley campbell

⟼ headcanons

s/o who writes poetry

s/o who plays an instrument

↣ todd Morrison

⟼ headcanons

s/o who plays an instrument

⁂ my hero academia ⁂

↣ bakugou katsuki

“all i wanted was for you to be happy”

you were lying. no one could be in love with him…so you had to be lying, right?

my hand in yours

dance with him in your kitchen, under the stars and the moonlight.

flower girl ♡

a cute girl runs a flower shop, and bakugou’s lack of social skills leave him frozen on the spot when she cries after he accidentally trampled her plants.

single scoop

you work in a shit-cute ice cream shop, a boring minimum wage job. nothing exciting ever happens. but this cute, hot-headed blonde boy could totally get it.

don’t go

don’t leave him. he’s more vulnerable than he seems.

↣ todoroki shouto

mocha

you own a coffee shop where, as luck would have it, the same cute guy comes in routinely.

⁂ pokemon ⁂

↣ hop

with a smile

hop, for once, isn’t smiling. perhaps a kiss would help?

[writervaul-t]

The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted. 

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply. 

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone." 

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor. 

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his. 

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness. 

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry. 

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage. 

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away. 

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

[writervaul-t]

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[writervaul-t]

FEELING SO HIGH BUT TOO FAR AWAY TO HOLD ME ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ;༊

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summary: satoru and suguru come to a critical conclusion, but is it too late for them to mend what was broken?

tw: angst, homophobia, abandonment, mentions of (unintentional) self harm, mentions of illness, barely proofread

notes: title taken from halsey's "without me." all images were taken from pinterest and are NOT mine! i'm not sure if i like how this came out but oh well gotta get through it lol

☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊☼☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊☼☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊☼☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊☼☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎ ⋆⁺₊☼☾⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎

Lately, Satoru has been thinking a lot more about you.

He shouldn't be. Choso's been on his ass for stupid mistakes, like a slight misstep during practice, or the way his voice wavers ever so slightly on notes that are well within his vocal range. Nanami grumbles a bit more when recording sessions extend even further. Haibara brings him an extra water bottle during practice. Even Sukuna is slightly nicer to him, as if he can see how much Satoru is struggling.

Satoru hates it. It makes him feel weak, because he knows now that he misses you more than his heart can bear. He has women throwing themselves at him left and right, so why does a girl from a town he left behind make something in his chest twist? By all accounts, Satoru is thriving. He has a wonderful relationship with his boyfriend, his boy group has broken record after record with each single they release, and Satoru has just signed onto a brand deal with Chanel.

(He knows you're not just a girl, you were his. The only person he could bear to share Suguru with, the only person who could see past his flirtatious facade and say, "It's okay, 'Toru, I'm here for you." He knows the reason why he forces himself to believe you would have only shunned him like his parents, is to run from the realization that he abandoned you in the most horrific way possible.)

It doesn't help that his managers handle all of his social media accounts, and go through all his mail. As soon as him and Suguru signed onto the same agency, their phone lines were decommissioned, and they were given highly protected personal phones. You wouldn't be able to reach him even if you wanted to. Hell, they barely even saw Shoko, and the only reason was because they were both the only people who trusted her to take care of their medical needs.

Suguru had tried, once, to ask about you, to get a way of contacting you. Shoko had looked him dead in the eyes, steel hidden behind soft brown, and told him that, "if you were just going to abandon her like that, at least have the decency to stay gone until they could commit to her fully." The way Suguru's face had paled only confirmed the worst for Satoru; you hadn't understood. You had seen their leaving as the worst kind of betrayal. Shoko had refused to tell them more, stubborn in her loyalty to you.

At first, it was easier to hide shame behind a kind of disdain. Of course you hadn't understood what it had been like, being rejected so violently by parents you once loved. Of course you hadn't understood what it was like to feel the noose tighten around your neck until you knew you would either run, or die. Maybe if you couldn't let them go, it meant you truly had never loved them anyways.

As the months grew, slowly and surely, the tangle of excuses unraveled. You might not have understood, but you had defended him silently in small rebellious ways. The eyeshadow palette that still sat at his vanity. The birthday card you'd made him when you turned 14, with a small rainbow under the phrase "I'll love you no matter what." You too had felt the noose; you'd spent years fighting it, fighting your hatred of the small town you were forced to grow up in. "Satoru, Suguru, Shoko," you would tell them, "one day we'll all move out of here into the nicest, fanciest apartment in the city."

Grief was love with nowhere to go, and in that particular moment, Satoru found your absence particularly painful. Sighing, he stretches, resting his chin on the back of the couch to stare at the clock. 12:36; Suguru was probably still awake. Quietly, Satoru pads to the spare room in the apartment he shares with Suguru that they'd converted into their music and production room. Unsurprisingly, he finds Suguru perched on an old barstool they thrifted, gently strumming the strings of the guitar you'd gifted him so long ago.

"Satoru," Suguru says softly, pausing. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Wordlessly, Satoru wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into the slope of his neck. After a few moments, he speaks.

"I miss her."

He can feel the way Suguru stiffens slightly in his arms, before exhaling, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I miss her too. I've been thinking, Satoru."

"That's dangerous for you," Satoru chides, and Suguru rolls his eyes fondly.

"You're such a brat. I've been thinking, what if we went back?"

Satoru blanches, staring at Suguru. "What?"

"Not permanently," Suguru hastily amends, knowing how deep Satoru's scars run. "Just enough to...I don't know, Satoru. We messed up really badly. I know there's a large chance she won't even be there anymore. She used to always tell us about how she couldn't wait to move to the city. But we can at least start there, right?"

────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────────────

The news of Satoru's hiatus caused enough ripples for even you to notice it. Despite the fact you avoided anything to do with both his and Suguru's music career, every news outlet, radio channel, and social media post had something to say about it. Hell, you couldn't even open the local newspaper without seeing his face plastered on it, lamenting his temporary break from the group's next comeback.

Frowning, you slam the kitchen cabinet door a bit harder than necessary. Why should you care? If anything, you should be gloating with this piece of information, that not everything was perfect in Gojo Satoru's idol career. Yet, a small part of you still worried. Was he eating alright? Did something happen to Suguru? Should you call Shoko?

The door chimes, startling you out of your thoughts. Your parents are back in the hospital undergoing another round of treatments but they could have came back early. Sighing, you walk over to the door, opening it without a second thought.

"Hi, what-"

In that moment, you feel several emotions. Regret, that you hadn't checked who it was before opening it. An odd blend of concern and fear; why had they come back, was something horribly wrong? Most overpoweringly, was the deep sense of anger that welled up inside of you, seeing both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru standing on your doorstep.

"You're here," Sator- Gojo, breathes, crystalline blue eyes greedily drinking in the sight of you. He reaches for you, but you flinch back.

"What are you doing here?"

You're surprised to see that Gojo seems hurt by that statement. Sugu- Geto steps closer. "We wanted to see you."

"Oh, so a whim?" You can't help the harshness of your voice, or the way that your voice trembles ever so slightly. "Its been years, Geto. Five years since you left, and you come back now? What am I, just an afterthought? I already knew that but my god you're such an asshole."

"That's not what I'm saying," Geto sighs, and you want to throttle him. "We missed you so much, I can't even-"

You can't help but cut him off, fists clenched and hot tears pooling in your eyes. "You could have left a note. You could have left me an address, could have reached out once you settled in, anything!"

It's Gojo's turn to speak, hands fidgeting as if he wants to pull you close. "Our managers-"

"I don't care!"

A hush falls after your outburst, and you can't help the tears that slip down your cheeks. "Did I really mean that little to you? I would have left with you, I would have done anything for you, so don't you dare try to come up with an excuse. Don't try to tell me that your managers stopped you. I loved you." Your voice breaks. "How could you?"

Both men look ashamed. Geto is the first to speak. "We thought you would have moved away. We lost our original numbers, and Shoko refused to-"

Your eyes flash. "Don't try to blame Shoko for this. Unlike the two of you, she stayed with me."

Gojo flinches. "That's not fair. We didn't have a choice, why can't you see that?"

A sardonic laugh escapes your lips. "See what? All I see is the choice you made in leaving me behind."

"What happened to you?" Geto breathes, and you fight the urge to slap him. "You were so adamant that you would get out of this town."

"Well I can't," you hiss. "Not all of us can abandon their loved ones without a second thought."

Gojo's face looks like you've just shattered his world. "You never left?"

Something in the way he says that breaks something inside of you. "Mom and Dad have whatever Grandmother had," you tell them. You're not even sure why you're saying this, but there's a sick sense of pleasure in watching it start to sink in. "There's nobody else to help take care of them. Whenever she can, Shoko will try her best to stop by."

"You've been alone," Geto murmurs, horrified.

Venom fills your mouth. "I have been since I was sixteen, thanks for asking. You think I didn't notice that you two were together? You never even said anything to me and I still figured it out." Gojo's face pales but you plow forward. "It was always Satoru and Suguru, Gojo and Geto, but what about me? I was there too, wasn't I?" Blood drips down your palms; you're digging your nails in hard enough to cut. "You two forgot about me. You discarded me, left me behind. Did you really think so little of me? Did you really think I would treat you like everyone else in this town?" You can see the pain in Geto's eyes. "As if it wasn't enough, I had to see you everywhere. It's nice seeing how quickly both of you replaced me with other women."

Gojo calls your name but you shake your head, vision blurring. "Go fuck yourself, both of you. Don't talk to me. I wish you'd never come back." Whirling back inside, you slam the door, ignoring the frantic banging and shouts. As you sink to the floor, you finally allow yourself to sob, curled up against the solid wood doorframe. I thought it was over, you think miserably. But somehow it hurts more than the day they left.

[writervaul-t]

A Perfect Score | Series Masterlist | FigureSkating!AU | modern!Aemond x reader

COMPLETED

Summary: Striving for a place in the Olympics, Aemond desperately needs to find another partner to step in when his becomes injured. With little experience in couples figure skating as well as Aemond’s closed-off and antisocial nature, it will be a challenge to work with him.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, some angst, competitiveness, toxic parenting, smut, NSFW 18+

Chapter 1: Ice Cold 

Chapter 2: Sub-Zero

Chapter 3: Goosebumps

Chapter 4: Thin Ice 

Chapter 5: Ice Princess

Chapter 6: Winter is Coming

Chapter 7: Avalanche

Chapter 8: The Fallout

Chapter 9: Thawed Out

Chapter 10: A Song of Ice and Fire

Epilogue

Lovely fanart <3

[writervaul-t]

Lacnunga, or, Remedy

Osferth x Reader

Request: i would love to request something for our dear baby monk. maybe reader is a healer and takes care of his wounds and everyone sees that there's something between them but both osferth and reader are too shy to act on it and continue dancing around each other. until that one day when he saves her from drowning or some danes (please pick whatever you're comfortable with) and he realizes he nearly lost her without telling her what he feels and kisses her right there.

I’m so sorry – I lost who requested this!

[Masterlist]

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: One use of bad language. Other than that, none. It’s Osferth.

The thundering of hooves tore apart the dark night’s silence, and your hand instinctively moved to grip the shoulder of the small boy before you. He looked up. Slowly, not daring to breathe, you brought your finger to your lips. He nodded and inched a little closer to your skirts. 

Wintancaester had been on edge since the very word that men of Northumbria had ridden through Mercia, terror left in their wake, and were descending on Wessex’ borders. The King had dispatched Uhtred and his band of warriors to investigate the oncoming horde, but that was weeks ago and no news had come. Nor had the men returned.

The ensuing days were those of dread, the nights full of visions. Bells rang from inside the castle gates at the merest approach of anyone on horseback, sending the city scattering into their dwellings. So why, this night, were the bells silent?

The lad at your knee tugged your skirt. 

“Stay close,” you whispered, heart racing beneath your breast. The hooves were growing louder, so much that you felt the very ground beneath your feet tremble. As the racket neared, the little boy held your legs tighter. It was not until they had passed, their canter quietening, that he let go.

“Come,” you edged to the door of your home, beckoning the child. You opened the wooden it a crack. You could not see the men. Across the way, a few people were peering from their homes, the boy’s mother included. “Straight to your mother now. Run and don’t look back. Go!” 

He ran as quickly as his little legs could take him and you shut the door as swiftly and silently as possible. Hand at your chest, you listened. If they caught him, surely you would hear. You tried not to imagine his poor cries as they wrenched him away. The face of his mother when she confronted you. Why didn’t you keep him safe? And still the bells didn’t ring. What if the northmen had already taken the castle, unbeknownst to its subjects beyond its walls?

Silence.    

The horses' hooves were running no more. There were no cries from neighbouring dwellings. The bells didn’t ring. Perhaps it was just someone passing through. Maybe the poor soul on watch had fallen asleep. The hour was late after all. 

You were just relaxing against the wood of the door, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as it pounded in your ears, when the door jolted.

BANG BANG BANG

Your body jumped with the movement of it. A trap. A rouse of silence to trick unsuspecting victims. Tears pricked at your eyes as you held the door with your hands. If you were to die at the hand of some Northumbrian brute, then you would die fighting.

BANG BANG BANG

“Lady! It’s them!” 

Whatever strength you mustered to fight the northmen left as quickly as it had arrived. 

“They’re back! Come and see! Lady?” 

“Caen?” You opened the door. There he was, small and jumping up and down. Behind him, a few paces off, his mother smiled at his antics, her hands on her hips. “What do you me-”

“Uhtred!” Without another word, and seemingly embarrassed at your slowness, he darted along the grassy path towards the stables. Four horses, three dark and one white, were drinking heavily from a trough. Their riders, each tall and strong like their mounts, worked to remove their saddles.

You watched as Caen bounded towards them. They had yet to spot him, small as he was, and instead each man chatted to another. 

“Come,” it was Caen’s mother. “Quite the fright they gave us. At least we have visitors, and handsome ones at that, to settle our spirits.” Laughing, she took your arm in hers and led you towards the group. 

“A fright indeed,” you muttered, your heart still beating its violent tattoo. Up ahead, Caen was nearing the band of men.

“Uhtred!” He cried and, when the man turned, the small boy all but flung himself into the warrior’s arms. 

“My, my, look at you! You have grown taller and stronger since last I saw you. It won’t be long until can wield a sword yourself-”

“I’ll not have you encouraging him, Lord.” Caen’s mother said, her voice firm.

“Ma says that I will be just as able to help the kingdom with my learning. And she’s started teaching me about the plants!” Caen pointed at you.

“She!?” Caen shrunk at his mother’s words, correcting himself by using your name. 

“You can never have too many healing hands,” the man beside Uhtred said. His head was bowed a little, eyes peering over the furs he wore to keep warm but even in the dark night, you could see the alertness of their blue. He watched you gently. Something about the small smile playing at the corners of his lips stirred your stomach.

“Osferth,” you said quietly.

“Lady,” 

“Can never have too many healing hands indeed!” The burlier of Uhtred’s men winked and gave Osferth’s shoulder a shove. 

“Finan,” you said, and he nodded with a smile. “I take it you aren’t in need of healing.”

“She says that when people make a fuss they don’t need so much help,” little Caen spoke up. “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

Your eyes flicker to Osferth.

“Caen!”

“Sorry, Lady.” He eyed you a little but smiled cheekily all the same. Finan ruffled his hair and Caen giggled, swatting his hand away. In the lightness of the moment, you almost forgot that these men had been on the road for weeks and potentially battled their way home.

“Are you alright?” You addressed the gathered troupe, casting an eye over each of them. “Do you need anything? Sihtric?”

“Nothing ale and a good night can’t fix, thank you.”  

When you first encountered the group, it was the Dane with the shorn hair and bicoloured glower that intimidated you most. A man of few words and calculated grace, something in his manner set you on edge. It increased tenfold when you saw him wield the sword, for the movements were violent, aggressive, quick as lightning.

It was not until he came to your small home, the flesh of his cheek split like ripe fruit and bleeding, that you discovered in truth the man was considerate and still. Almost gentle. Almost.

As you tended to his skin, he asked quiet questions about the plants hung from the rafters of your home, told you of the girl he intended to marry. Spoke with near reverence of Uhtred, told tall tales of Finan and fretted over Osferth. In the years you had known the men, it was Sihtric Kjartansson who scared you the least.

Now, it was the young man between he and Uhtred that sent your heart hammering. He, with his hard face and gentle soul.

Your fear was in the knowing glances he gave to his friends, and to you, as if he knew your thoughts before they even entered your mind. It was the stillness that he invoked upon the air whenever he neared you. It was in the simmering heat that built within you each time he returned bolder, stronger, braver. It was the way he was looking at you in that moment, as though seeing you for the first time and coming home.

“Osferth?” Your voice was hoarse and you coughed. “Are you well? Do you need anything?”

Before he could speak, Sihtric cut in. “He took a blow to the back, Lady-” He reached out to show you where but Osferth brushed him away.

“’Tis nothing, only a bruise,”

“I should still like to see it,” you said quickly.

“And I can help!” Caen piped up and you smiled down at your little apprentice.

“After, perhaps.” Osferth said. “But first, would you take a look at this old thing?” He patted the flank of his mottled horse. “She took a sword to her leg. It was only a scuffle!” He added upon seeing your worried face.

“Caen, fetch the bute you collected, and a pitcher of water.” The little boy ran away at your instruction. You turned to the group at large. “You are certain I cannot help with anything else?”

“Nothing,” Uhtred said. “Other than direct us to an alehouse. One who has boarding at this hour”

“Bron will have rooms,” you pointed down the way. “And he’ll be glad to welcome you.”

The men gathered their meagre belongings and, leaving their steeds at the stable, began their tired way towards the alehouse. Osferth remained at your side, following you towards your home. Unbeknownst to the both of you, Sihtric watched your progress with a small smile, distracted only when Finan clapped him on the back and dragged him away.

Seeing it was not the northmen but Uhtred and his men, many of the townsfolk had returned to their sleepy dwellings, and the night was quiet as it had once been.

“You have been to see the King, then? They did not ring the bells when you arrived.” You asked Osferth. He walked beside you, hands clasped firmly behind his back and head bowed. You wondered for a moment if he had picked up this behaviour at the monastery, or if it were his natural proclivity for pensiveness.

“Yes. Well,” he kicked a stone from the path. “Uhtred did.”

You said no more. It had no doubt been a long and tiresome journey, Osferth surely would not want to talk of the father that didn’t acknowledge his very existence.

“Was it terrible?” You asked, pushing open the wooden door to see Caen already setting cloth and water on the table. You winked at him. “Good lad.”

“The reverse,” Osferth smiled. “By the time we arrived in Mercia, the Angles had reached the northmen first.” Caen gasped and begged Osferth tell him more. “You could not see the ground for bodies, and-” Osferth looked at you, arms folded across your chest and eyebrows raised. “-and, that was it, really.” He finished weakly.

Caen glanced between you as silence fell. “Pop your clothes off, if you please.”

“Caen,” your voice was warning.

“If you would, Lord, remove your upper layers and sit on the table.” Caen said.

“Better,” you mouthed.

Plucking comfrey and ribwort from the plants drying around your home, you took your pestle and mortar in hand and worked them into a poultice. You daredn’t look at Osferth as he undressed, and shame began to work away at you fear of him. It is just Osferth. When he spoke, however, it was impossible not to turn, for his voice caused you to jump from your thoughts and face him.

“My horse-”

“Caen will see to her,” you placed the mortar on the table, looking anywhere but his naked torso. “He has been harvesting bute today and could do with the practice.”

“I’ll look after her, Lord.”

“Osferth,” the monk corrected.

“I’ll look after her, Lord Osferth.” Caen grabbed the bute, a small bowl and a cup of water, and dashed into the night. He returned not a minute later. “Forgot the cloth.”

Osferth chuckled as you returned to mixing the poultice. “He is a fine little apprentice.”

“Yes,” you added a dash of water to the mixture. “I just hope he isn’t distracted by the sword.”

“As I was?”

Your head snapped up and there was no going back. He was looking at you, blue eyes sad, pale skin glowing in the light of the fire. “That’s different.”

Osferth hummed, and the silence resumed. Firewood and sage crackled in the hearth, and beyond your home a tawny owl called.

“Where did Sihtric say you were struck?”

“My shoulder,” Osferth tried to indicate but winced as he moved.

“Rest,” you placed a hand on his and pushed his arm away. “Let me.” Moving to stand behind him, you saw the plum bruise that spread across his shoulder blade. It was already mottled and blackening, a few days old at least. Tentatively, you reached out to touch it. Beneath your fingers his skin was warm, similar to those first spring rays of sunlight on the face. You blushed. Beneath your touch, Osferth stiffened.

He had been coming to you for years. When his ribs were bruised and cracked during his first proper skirmish. When he had broken his arm escaping from the sea. After his first few kills he came to for a remedy for night visions, his mind rattled by the sound of tearing flesh. Sometimes, he found excuses to end up at your door. Stiff necks, headaches, insomnia. Those nights were his favourite. You made him dandelion tea and offered your bed. There, as you hummed a slow tune, he would drift into a sleep full of flora and delicate touches.

“It’ll be cool, the mixture, but not cold,” you said. “The bruise is already healing well, but this will reduce the swelling and some of the pain.”

“Thank you, Lady.” He whispered.

Placing a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you gently began rubbing the poultice into his skin. Osferth hissed.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Osferth shook his head. “Is it tender, that is all.”

“I can see the outline of the pommel where it hit you,”

“What a shame it didn’t bleed, would have made a handsome scar-” You saw his cheeks rise into a smile.

“Trying to be more like Finan?” Your hand moved from his shoulder blade to the valley of his spine.

“I haven’t the volume.” This made you laugh and, at hearing the bright noise, Osferth joined in, for a moment only before doubling over.

“Try not to laugh,” you said through your giggles.

On and on you rubbed the poultice into his skin until the merest slither was left in the mortar. Osferth fell into a contented silence as you worked, your mind caught far away and, simultaneously, in the intimacy of the moment.

You watched, mesmerised, as your medicine highlighted the curves and contours of his back. Even when Osferth first joined Uhtred, he was tall. But then he began to train with the others, surviving on meagre rations and growing from boy to man. His broad shoulders and lean muscle were evidence of that. Drifting from the bruise, your fingers brushed over his upper back, the broad expanse of it now golden in the firelight.

His frame was exciting to you, yes. But what you hadn’t expected, or hadn’t anticipated would stir the fire still alite in your belly, were the freckles speckling his back. The outline of his ribs as he breathed, or the base of his spine ridging his lower back. They were the evidence that he was human. Living, breathing, warm flesh and bone right there beneath your fingers. Not just some imagined being you dreamt up during the long days and nights that he was gone.

Your fingers had left the bruise fully now but you didn’t worry. Osferth couldn’t see, and you let them wander under the guise of treating his wound. When they met the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you paused before laying your hand flat against the plain of skin. The action must have been soothing, for no sooner had your hand settled there was Osferth tipping his head forward, exposing more of his strong neck to you. You squeezed the muscle and he groaned. The sound sent blood rushing from your ears to the meeting of your thighs and you squeezed your legs together.

Breathe.

With a sharp inhale and slow exhale, you relaxed your body, hands straightening on Osferth’s shoulder. Your fingers grazed the shorn hair at the back of his head and once more, Osferth sighed.

This time, though, it was not the sound of released tension. Of a knot begin worked from deep within a muscle or the stretch of the back after a long day’s work. This time, it was the sound of pleasure.

Slowly, tentatively, you curled your fingers, dragging your nails ever so lightly over his skin and running them down the length of his spine. Osferth shuddered beneath you, arching his back as you reached its base.

“Lady-” his voice was ragged. When he looked over his shoulder and whispered your name, you saw his blue irises eclipsed by black.

“Osferth-”

The door banged open.

“Horse is fixed, Lord!” Caen shouted happily as you jumped back from the table.

“You don’t ‘fix a horse’, Caen.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. The heat that was rising to your cheeks burned.

“Thank you, Caen.” Osferth smiled at the boy and hopped gracefully from the table. He dressed quickly, tucking his cross into his tunic and collecting the remainder of his possessions; breastplate, leather gauntlets, sword and furs.

“Come,” Osferth steered Caen from the door. “Let us give the good lady some peace. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you could barely speak the words as Osferth glanced at you with a solemn smile. When the door closed behind the him and your apprentice, you leant against the table, dipped the cloth in the pitcher of water and held it against your head. You looked to the ceiling.

“Thank you for sending him, Lord.” For what would have happened had Caen not burst through your door, you dared not imagine.

You did not need to leave your home next morning to know the day was a happy one. Beyond the door people were yelling freely, someone was playing a pipe and you could hear children scurrying after one another.

Getting up, you stretched broadly and felt the sunlight through your small lookout window on your face. Wandering to add logs to the fire, you paused mid-step. There, on the table, was evidence that last night you almost disgraced your honour and dignity. Osferth’s honour and dignity. He was a warrior now, brave and noble, and would surely be a Lord like his leader one day. He would not throw himself at a common healer like you. No matter how much you wished it.

Once again, your musings were broken by the banging open of the door.

“What have I told you about knocking, little master!?”

“Well if you will leave it unbolted,” Caen waggled his finger at you. “Are we going hunting today, Lady?” ‘Hunting’ was what the young boy called foraging and, since he began his lessons with you, was fondest when in the field.

“Not today I’m afraid,” you said, wrapping a woollen shawl around your shoulders. “I am in need of arrowhead- do not interrupt, Caen. I’m sorry but the river is still too dangerous for you, and the plants are not so easily discernible. What would your mother say if I had you picking hemlock instead of water parsley?”

Caen hung his head in disappointment. Then, when a little boy ran past followed by a gaggle of even younger children, Caen called a hasty goodbye to you and ran after them. Stood in the doorway, you watched as they sprang down the grassy path. It truly was a happy day.

Dew glimmered in the long grass, little beadlets of iridescence sparkling in the spring light. Birds called gaily to each other from the treetops, much like their human counterparts on the ground below. Merriment seemed the order of the day. What wonders Uhtred and his men could perform by their appearance. The city seemed to sigh in relief.

After foraging, you planned to call at the alehouse. That was if you didn’t see the men in question about the town. Despite the previous night’s distractions, Osferth’s bruise truly was a nasty specimen and though it was healing, you believed his comfort greatly affected.

That was why you found yourself, an hour later and full of freshly baked bread, treading the damp earth along the banks of the river Icene in search of ingredients. It had been your mother who taught you the properties of the world around you, given you her stolen copy of the Lacnunga and taught you to read its pages.

The daughter of a nobleman, she was a fearsome and bright woman. Known for her learning and curiosity, she was beloved by all he knew her. Or so your father said. In the end, it was her curiosity that led to you. Foraging on the banks of that very river, she met a young fletcher gathering reeds for arrow tails. A month later, she married him. Cast out for loving a commoner, she took naught with her from her old life but for the clothes on her back, an embroidered sheet of damask and the stolen Lacnunga from the physic.

It was she who had taught you about the medicinal powers of the river plants, and of their terrifying toxins. Smiling as you meandered through the grass, thinking of your lost parents, and reciting the nine herb charm.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maethe, wergulu, apple, fille, finule. Mugwyrt, una-”

It was not those that you sought, but arrowhead. That bright, dart-shaped leaf which sprang from the water surrounded by delicate white leaves. Pressed in a sling against his shoulder or massaged in a poultice-you shook the thought from you head-it would surely aid Osferth’s discomfort.

There. Nestled amongst water-crowfoot and starwort, arrowhead leaves dazzled green in the murky water where the chalky river met the farmland of the city. There was just one problem. It was on the opposite bank.

There was nothing for it. Removing the wicker basket from your shoulder and setting it on the ground, you took off your worn boots and woollen socks, stowing them with the still warm bread you brought for your lunch. You looked left and right. No-one. Taking your skirts in hand, you tucked them into your leather belt and proceeded to a worn patch of scrub. An otter’s slipway.

A gravel bank rose at the centre of the river. Here, it was shallow and slow moving, but it was not the current you feared, but the cold. The sun shone in spring but the water retained its chilly bite. You would make for the gravel and assess the route to the arrowhead from there.

Slowly so as not to slip on the muddy ground, you stepped into the water.

“Fuck!”

Needles of cold shot through your legs as they entered the river and your toes curled instinctively under foot, seeking any warmth they could find. You stood there awhile, acclimatising to the water, or waiting until they were numb from the pain, you weren’t certain which.

Eventually you pushed out into the inky green water, letting it lap at your knees until you reached the gravel bank. From there you saw the arrowhead was just a few steps from reach. A great number of the leaves waved to you as their stems were bustled by the water and taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the water.

Your lungs tightened as, without warning, you sank waist-deep in the water. Well, that was a bother.

It didn’t take long for you to find your footing amongst the river weeds and, keeping your arms above the water, you waded forwards. A few stumbles here and there didn’t matter, your body was used to the cold by now and the arrowhead leaves were in your grasp.

For a few minutes you gently plucked the leaves from their stems, careful to leave some intact for the next harvest and the few little creatures you found living in the plant’s shelter.

With a handful foraged and a poesy of watercress for good measure, you turned back for the gravel bank. Your first step was clumsy as you slipped on some slimy stones underfoot and, as your chin hit the water, you jolted backwards. Just above the riverbed some long-grown pondweed had encircled your ankle in the current, tightening its grip with every kick of your foot to free yourself.

You tried not to panic, shoving the arrowhead and cress into your bodice. Your head was just above the water; you wouldn’t drown if you kept calm. But you would freeze. Over and over you fought to free your foot but the weed wouldn’t loosen. Your only remaining hope was to kick as hard as you could to uproot the plant or break its stem. With great effort, you flung your leg out as hard as you could. It didn’t work. You lost your footing once and for all, your head finally dipping beneath the river’s surface.

You came up spluttering and swallowing lung-fulls of water and air.

“Help,” you called out pathetically, your throat burning as you inhaled the river water. What was the use? You had come alone. Hadn’t you checked no-one was around before you entered the river? One foot trapped in pondweed and the other fighting for purchase, your body lolled at an awkward angle. The current of the water clapped in your ears, and when it rose to meet the side of your face, you found it wasn’t cold anymore. Letting your head float there, you found it a comfort and, like your rapidly numbing body, relaxed.

What a stupid way to die, you thought. The daughter of a renowned healer, and a healer in her own right, drowning while harvesting ingredients. In the spring, no less.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maethe, wergulu, apple, fille, finule. Remember, Mugwyrt, what you brought to pass, what you readied, at Regenmeld-”

When thoughts of your mother, of Caen and of Osferth faded, only the nine herb charm remained.

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade, atterlothe, maet-” It was like drifting into sleep, resting in the river. Your words became mumbled, slow, your memory weak.  

“Mugwyrt, una, wegrade- mugwyrt-”

The sinking was slow. First, you arms lolled behind you, the gentle river current moving your fingers as though they were combing through hair. Next, it was your chest, the cold water warming the barrel of your ribs. The strangest part was your ears. As your head began to sink, a great roaring rang in your ears as they broke the water. Just the flow of the river and your own breath could be heard under there. The water edged across your cheeks-

Your body burned as you were rent harshly from the water. Compared to the water, the day burned every inch of exposed flesh. Two hands, firm and strong, gripped your waist and dragged you backwards. Your back hit the hard ground and you moaned as weight returned to your body.

As though still trapped in the river, every sound was amplified. The birds in the trees above you, the wash of water against the riverbank, the man calling your name. Blinking in the harsh light, you looked up at him. His hand was at your face, his warm fingers near searing your sensitive skin.

“Osferth?” You said meekly. The man above you hung his head in relief. “Why are you here?” You smiled stupidly, reaching to grip his shoulder and check he was real.

“I came to your home,” he was out of breath and panicked, that was clear by his wide eyes and pinched brow. Even in your state you could see it. “-and Caen told me had gone to the river. You told him it was too dangerous for him to accompany you and yet you went alone? What were you thinking?”

“I needed arrowhead,” you touched the waist of your bodice where the plants lay. “For your bruise,”

Osferth was flabbergasted, and tt was he who spluttered next. “For my-for my-” He stared down at you. There you were, in his arms, soaked to the bone, hair in tendrils adorned with weed, gazing up at him so happily. Words failed him, and so he did the only left in his mind.

Raising you gently, he ducked his head and placed a tender kiss to your lips. You sighed. He was tender and soft and oh so warm. When he parted from you, a look of apprehensive pride on his face, you laughed quietly.

“I have imagined that so many nights, but it was never like this,”

“I could say exactly the same.” He laughed and held you closer. When you curled a hand into his tunic, he looked down at you and frowned.

“What?”

“Lady, your lips are blue.”

Notes: My first reader insert, please be nice.

The Lacnunga (which means remedy) is a real text, believed to have been written in the 10th century, and that is where the nigon wyrta galdor, or nine herb charm, comes from. Galdor means healing spell.

And obviously, don’t use plants when you don’t know what they do or how to use them. Common plants can be very hard to distinguish and yes, I did once mix up water parsley and hemlock…However! Ribwort Plantain is great for inflammation, rub the leaves on sore joints or bites and it works a treat, trust me!

Tags: @babyblue711 @arcielee @ewanmitchellcrumbs @bookwyrmsblog

[writervaul-t]

I know this is like so random but do you have any geto, gojo, nanami, or megumi ao3 recs because the only good fics I’ve read of jjk are ones you’ve written 😭

you have come to the right place :,) i post more recs than fics at this point haha most of these are copy pasted off previous rec lists but have been added onto! the ones with green + marks are NEW RECS

here's a post on how to use ao3 to find fics by yourself for those who dont know <3

gojo + ao3:

+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 122k words, 15 chapters, incomplete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed

+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this &lt;;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ heart beats: another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one haha // 11k words, 3 pieces

+ exposure therapy: this is 1/2 of a 2 piece collection. when i read this for the first time i was floored- i love the creative take, and the reader's character (it was a 'she's so me' moment). this author writes with such a subtle but unadulterated take on love and i adore it // 5k words

+ how to be a human being: 2/2 of the previous rec and the perfect continuation in every sense of the term. oh my gosh, is this masterful- from the relationships & writing of megumi and tsumiki to gojo (i almost forgot this was a rec for him) it's all around amazing // 20k words

+ the sanctity of a name: SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him // 2k words, complete, 1 chapter

+ assumptions: omf jealous gojo...... he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. // 6k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ even with the lights off: RAHHHH another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time // 8k words, 2 chapters, complete

nanami + ao3:

+ math help: dad!nanami w son!yuuji.... yeah that's all i really need to say i think! // 1 chapter, 2k words, complete

+ photo albums: nanami shares abt his childhood! // 1k wc, 1 chapter, complete

+ i don't really read for nanami but i would check out @aanobrain and maybe shoot them an ask bc she's a big fan :)

geto + ao3:

+ lessons in love: DAD!GETO.................. im such a sucker for a good family dynamic in fics and this is adorable !! no curse au if i remember right! // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ forever is in your eyes: angsty but ends in fluff :,) touches on his mental state, riko's death, all that! so sweet, i adore how this author writes him <;3 // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly w gojo-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ dog days are over: a series!! by the same author who wrote ripverse which is how you know it's going to be brilliant !! marriage, parenthood, some nsfw moments // 30k words, 5 chapters, incomplete

+ curious cat: cat gojo and neighbor geto.. i love this one! it's so so cute and sweet, if you're looking for some light fluff this is definetely for you // 8k words, 5 chapters, complete

megumi + ao3:

+ complicit: college!au !! i remember reading this and loving it omg, the unique concept kept me hooked and interested, especially paired w the lovely writing! one of my fav series ive read. be warned, last chapter is nsfw // 18k words, 5 chapters, complete

+ a very special december 22nd: cute bday fic :,) forgive me for reccing all this author's megumi fics... theyre just too good !! i love the dynamics, all of it! // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ kisses and cough syrup: THE BANTER!! THE FLUFF!!!!! i love this fic sm, so cute! // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ nocturnal: establishING relationship fics are one of my fav genres and this hits the nail on the head.. he's so stupid silly in this and i know you'll love it like i do // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ lover boy: 2nd year reader, annoying meddling gojo, placed at the beginning-ish where megumi gets beat tf up- what more could you ask for! // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ difficult to not overthink: todo strikes again! you ponder megumi's type // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ten confessions: megumi: ten dif confessions in dif tropes each time, so they can all be read as stand-alone pieces! so so cute and beautifully written.. we all know i love a good confession // 19k words, 7 chapters, incomplete

+ therefore, i am: reader gets mixed up in the world of sorcery.. megumi's there, too! // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ takes one to know one: flowershop au..... convulsing on the ground. my fav trope, ever, and so so cute oh my GOSH // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ i really (x6) like you: fluff!! this is the one i linked in my og ask but it deserves a place here too &lt;3 // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

[writervaul-t]

To Be Alone With You

Summary- Osferth becomes infatuated with a healer from the continent.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Osferth's got a big old crush. Like he’s down bad. Blood. Minor injuries. Shoddy knowledge of 10th century healing. Blasphemy. Admittedly more plot than porn. Cunnilingus. Masturbation. P in V sex. Against a wall in a church no less.

Author's Note- The fact that Osferth canonically fucks and is good at it to the point where women fight over him lives in my mind rent free. Anyway read the rest on ao3 link is belowww

dividers by me lmao

Osferth likes to think that he's different now. Or at least, that he has changed since first joining Uhtred. He's grown further into himself- his confidence, his ability to be a warrior, that he himself has changed as a whole. He's stronger now and though he still values his faith, it does not feel so all consuming, an anchor around his throat forever reminding him of his bastardry. He is proud of the man he has become, of the one that he continues to grow into, and it feels right that, over time, he has changed for the better.

But he seems to forget all that the moment he lays eyes on her.

She had arrived with a traveling priest from the continent, one who had come with the intention of spreading the word of God to the infamously heretical ealdorman. And though she traveled with a priest and his retinue, she wore no habit. Her hair was loose, catching the waning rays of the sun and he felt his heart stutter in his chest when he caught the colour of it shining in the light. She had caught his eye then, as their little ship docked, and smiled at him so brightly he felt himself fall back into the boy he once was, the cursed baby monk.

Though Uhtred had wanted to throw the whole group out at the first sign of a sermon, he agreed to give them a night in the inn out of respect for how long they had been traveling- after they had paid a small fee, of course- and Osferth had managed to catch her in the tavern later that night.

The words had caught in his throat the moment he tried to speak, but Finan had been with him and it had been easy for him to ask if they could join her and begin a conversation. He had nursed his mug of ale while they spoke, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her further, and joined Finan in highlighting all that Coccham had to offer. Finan had quickly become drunk, but they had found a joint amusement in that and he had revelled in every smile she cast his way. They learned that she was the priest's healer, having studied in Frankia before deciding to join the priest in order to see what the world had to offer. She told them of her travels to Burgundy, Provence, and the Northern Byzantine Empire, regailing them with stories Osferth could only dream about. Uhtred had joined them midway through the conversation, allowing Osferth the opportunity to join her on her bench, their arms brushing against each other.

By the time morning came, the priest had gone and she had stayed on as their healer. Uhtred offered her a cottage and the promise to retrieve everything she could possibly need. He had grinned at Osferth the moment she turned her back on them, raising his eyebrows playfully, and he had felt his face begin to burn from how obvious his immediate infatuation must have been.

At first, he simply admired her from afar. Though he is proud of all the progress he has made to become the man he is now, that all seems to melt away when he is around her. More often than not, he stumbles over his words when he tries to speak to her, face burning scarlet and heart beating faster in his chest. It is clear that the others know of his infatuation, as they do everything in their power to facilitate some kind of interaction between them. Inviting him over when they are speaking to her, offering her his assistance whenever she needs it. Finan had gone so far as to shove him in her direction whenever he felt like causing trouble, though thank God he had only stumbled into her once. She had done little more than laugh then but he had avoided her for two days out of sheer humiliation.

It is safer to simply keep his distance. Though he enjoys talking to her- more than enjoys it, if he is honest with himself- he does little more than embarrass himself when he tries. He wants more, he wants everything, but for now he will settle for admiration. Distance.

It seems kinder. To both himself and her.

He can see her now, walking back to her cottage with a basket full of herbs and flowers she must have picked nearby the river. There is a woman walking with her, one he doesn't know well enough to know her name, but they are laughing as if they are close friends. The other woman reaches out to rest a hand on her arm and he watches longingly as she raises her own to clutch at the other woman's fingers. He cannot hear what they're saying over the echoing clack of the wooden swords the boys are using to practice- a sparring match he is admittedly supposed to be monitoring- but she has a pull on him he can't quite explain and he can’t bring himself to look away.

It comes with consequences.

Read the rest here