#as someone with quite the nose myself it makes me feel really good

[joelmillers-whore]

Fuck Me Like You Mean It

summary: a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see. 

word count: 4.9k

series or one-shot

warnings: SMUT, explicit 18+, MDNI, no outbreak, dbf!joel x f!reader, dark!joel, spanking, dubious consent at times, voyeurism, exhibitionism i guess, dirty talking, language, joel calling reader a cock slut, slightly creepy joel, unspecified age gap, daddy kink, brat tamer joel, hand job for a second, manhandling, dominant joel, oral (female and male receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, jealousy if you squint. as always, if i missed something, please let me know. 

you are responsible for the content that you consume. please read the warnings before continuing with this fic. enjoy babes. 

A/N: i am so sorry firstly for teasing you all with snippets of this one-shot and then just not posting it lol, life has been a little chaotic, to say the least and i was just feeling so uninspired to finish it (literally i do this to myself). but so many of you loved the little teaser i posted and i couldn’t just not give ya’ll some delicious dbf!joel. so, here it is. 

ALSO, a huge thank you and shoutout to kylee @hellishjoel for reading and beta-ing this for me, i love you and your freakouts were so valid haha. forehead kisses.

main masterlist

The pungent stench of sweat curled around your nose, setting your already overstimulated nerves into hyperdrive. Possessive hands pawed at your hips, urging you back into their body, into their growing stiffness. 

Normally, you’d be all for it. The game. Going out each weekend, getting shitfaced with your best friend, entertaining men who you would otherwise have no interest in just to see them work for a moment of your attention. 

But not tonight, tonight you’d had enough of it all. The handsy men, the unrhythmic and too-loud music, and just the whole played-out scene really. There wasn’t anything to get excited about anymore, each weekend blurring into the same version of the last, and the one before that. 

It was boring and you couldn’t tolerate the lacklustre men around you for much longer. So, twisting out of the weak grip of the twenty-something you had been dancing with all this time, you abandoned them and your friend who reeked of desperation. 

She’d hounded you all week to go out to a club, hoping to get laid, vetoing your suggestion to just get drunk and find someone at a bar. Now, you were at a seedy club downtown, getting groped from every angle by mediocre-looking men who smelled of too much Axe body spray and sweat. 

The mere thought of the combination curdled your stomach, propelling you deeper into the club and all the way to the bar. You thought that alcohol might right your foul mood, your skin already pricking with annoyance at your current circumstances. 

Getting to the bar, it was as packed as you had been imagining. Everyone was contending for the bartender’s attention, demanding drinks that you were sure were as watered-down as your first shot had been. 

You sighed, wondering why you had let your friend talk you into coming out tonight, when it was the last thing in the world you wanted to be doing. 

Lack of desire for the club had turned into plain boredom now, every ounce of your body thrumming with the longing to escape. But you’d never just up and leave your friend, no matter how much you wanted to. You’d just have to grin and bear it. 

Tapping your finger along to the music, that wasn’t even good, the slow and melodic electronic music nearly putting you to sleep, you waited for your drink. Finally getting your drink from the bartender, you slurped it down, hoping the subtle sting of the alcohol would wake you up, and trigger something to make your night more enjoyable. 

You began to walk back to where you had left your friend, deciding to scoop her drunk ass up and take her back with you to your place to call it a night at... you checked your phone, a pathetic ten-thirty. But you stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye, or rather someone. 

Turning your head toward the seated area, which basically served as the VIP section without actually having the name, because there was nothing special about it. Old red velvet couches that had seen better days and probably had every fluid known to man seeped into the cushions, and wobbly tables that were smattered with decade-old stains. 

You squinted your eyes, the stage lights blinding you as you put a hand up, shielding your eyes as you attempted to make out a vaguely familiar shape that was sitting in said area. You took a tentative step forward, thinking that your eyes were deceiving you, the wild lights making you see things. Because there was no fucking way that you were actually seeing what you were seeing, no fucking way. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight. Your dad’s neighbour, Joel Miller, was sitting on one of the couches, a beer in one hand, his other hand disappearing below the cut of the table. Your eyes followed his hand, trailing down the length of him until they snagged on the back of someone's legs, kneeling below the table. 

Your lips parted slightly, completely caught off guard by what you were seeing. You were watching your dad’s neighbour— or better yet, his best friend, get sucked off at a club. Feeling your face heat, you looked away, embarrassment coating your skin. 

Your stomach lurched, turning with nausea and something else, your skin pricking with sweat as you glanced back up at Joel, meeting his already waiting eyes. Those chocolate brown orbs were blown, wide, and ghosting with surprise as he raked them over the expanse of you. 

His face glowed in the low light of the club, the flashing lights dancing and snagging your gaze to his lustful expression. The way that his eyes were heavy-lidded, the slight sheen that coated his brow, and the way that his chest rose and fell excessively. 

It was a scene that you couldn’t look away from, even though you wanted to. You wanted to get out of there and go... well, you didn’t exactly know. The longer that Joel’s eyes held yours, the more you felt yourself being drawn into his orbit, his world. Your chest began rising and falling in time with his own, and a dull throbbing began in your cunt, surprising you completely. 

You didn’t think that you’d be this kind of person, someone who was turned on by watching other people having sex. But you also couldn’t deny or explain the influx of wetness that saturated your panties. 

You awkwardly clenched your thighs, rubbing them together to ease some of the pressure you felt. Joel’s stare burned into you, causing your heartbeat to thrum erratically in your throat.

You felt sick and depraved and like you should be anywhere else in the world, but another part of yourself couldn’t look away, because you didn’t want to. 

You wanted to see Joel fall apart right in front of you, to see him burst at the seams and devolve into a fit of pleasure right before your eyes. And like you had wished it into existence, you watched as he tipped his head back, snapping his eyes closed, his whole body convulsing as he came. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a beautiful sight to behold. 

Another gush of your own arousal leaked out of you, sticking the thin material of your panties flush against your cunt, rubbing against your already swollen clit. Fuck, you felt too hot and you needed to cool down, maybe splash some water on your face. 

Ducking out of Joel’s line of sight, you headed past the winding staircase, down a rather dark hallway, and toward a couple of heavy-set doors that housed the bathrooms. There weren’t many people around, only a few bodies scattered throughout the hall. 

Couples made out in the dark and you may or may not have seen a drug deal going down. But none of that mattered now, the only thing you needed to do was close yourself into a stall and try to get your hormones under control. 

Even though the thud of the music carried all the way down the hall, you could still hear a rhythmic thump of someone stomping in your direction. You turned on your heels, anxious to see who it was. Before you could even blink, strong arms shoved you past one of the steel doors, locking it behind you, before planting you against it on the other side. 

Your eyes trailed their broad and expansive chest, cresting at their salt and pepper beard and mustache, and settling on their sinful eyes. Eyes you had just been staring into moments before. It was Joel. Shock and something lustful coasted through you, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. 

Joel’s face was inches from yours, his breathing mingling with your own, the heady scent of beer invaded your nostrils. His eyes dipped to your lips and then lazily dragged back to your eyes. His hands were resting on your hips, keeping you between the door and his body, caging you in. 

“What’re you doing?”, you asked, swallowing thickly, trying to avoid his eyes. 

“What’s it look like ‘m doing?”, he replied, his Southern drawl coming out as thick as honey, making your thighs snap together. 

You shook your head gingerly, “Dunno...”. 

His lips quirked up, a sinister smirk plastered on his face, “Turn around”. His voice was gruff and assertive, making you quiver at the tone. 

You were stunned into silence, your mouth opening and closing like you were trying to catch flies, surprised by his forwardness. 

“What—”, you started. 

You couldn’t even catch your breath before Joel’s rough grip grabbed your arms, turning you around in his hold and pressing your front against the edge of the sink, basically bending you in half so that your ass was facing him, on full display. 

“This fuckin’ dress”, he mumbled behind you, fisting the material and tugging it up, bunching it around your waist, leaving your ass bare save for your drenched thong. “Wanted to fucking rip it off of ya”. 

You whined, pushing your ass toward him, your body completely under his spell, his raspy voice suddenly fulfilling every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about this man. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive by any stretch of the word, he was ruggedly attractive even. 

Your mind couldn’t concentrate on your thoughts of how attractive Joel was before a stinging slap came down on your bare ass cheek. You craned your neck, as best you could, but you felt another quick sting, forcing you to remain in the position you were in. 

“Fuck—”, you half-whined, half-mewled, both turned on and pissed off at the same time. “You can’t just—”. 

Another slap, harder this time, causing your body to jolt and instinctively wiggle away from the pain. 

“I can—”, Joel groaned, another full-palm slap on your ass, probably leaving a large, red imprint there. “And I will”. 

Joel’s other hand was pressing down on your back, pushing your face further and further toward the porcelain sink that wasn’t as white as it probably had been once upon a time. It made your stomach revolt against you, the combination of cigarette ash and week-old vomit was not the most pleasant scent. 

You felt Joel’s hand slip away from your ass, his fingers trailing over the back of your exposed legs, moving lower and lower. You attempted to look behind you again, his body not crowding you anymore.

When you did manage to sneak a peek, he was lowering himself onto his knees, spreading your legs farther apart by the back of your knees. 

Your eyes went wide, “What- what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”. 

Joel rolled his eyes, nipping at your sore ass cheek, causing you to jump. “So many goddamn questions”. 

You muttered something incoherent, a protest of some sort, but Joel wouldn’t hear it, only ignoring you and continuing on his mission. He pulled your deep red thong to the side, the chilled air in the bathroom hitting your exposed clit deliciously. 

“Mm, my favourite colour”, he groaned. 

You shook like a leaf as you awaited what came next, feeling Joel’s harsh breath closing in on your pussy, the anticipation actually killing you. It was like a shock to your system, the feel of his warm mouth suctioning to your lips, sucking and licking like he had been deprived all this time. 

Your hips pressed back into him, involuntarily chasing the sensation, the friction, the high. The brash feel of Joel’s beard tickled you, circling your entrance like a shark would its dinner. He licked along your folds, fucking his girthy tongue into your hole as he spread your cheeks further apart, stretching you painfully with the size of it. 

You were a moaning mess, hands strangling the edge of the sink, as you held on for dear life. Searing pleasure gripped your lower stomach, throttling your insides as Joel picked up his pace, helping you to your orgasm.

It came over you suddenly and violently, making you shake as you clenched your eyes shut, rocking back into him as light burst behind your eyes, making your body sweat and tingle with the aftershocks. 

You felt Joel move to stand, palming the flesh of your ass cheeks with both his hands as you took this opportunity to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you lay virtually flat against the sink, your breasts squishing down painfully. 

Lightheaded and completely fucked out, you hadn’t even been aware that Joel’s hands were on you again, manhandling you so that you were turned around, facing him. He roughly gripped the hem of your dress, yanking the material down, your breasts popping out of their constraints. 

“D’you like what you saw earlier?”, Joel asked, his voice dropping an octave, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. “Hmm? Was that sweet lil’ pussy weeping for me while I was getting blown?”. 

Your mind was clouded, a fog settling over each neuron, slowing down your capacity to think and speak, let alone to respond to him. You nodded your head, moaning in his ear, rubbing your jaw along his own, scraping your skin over his patchy beard. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, rutting his hardened bulge into your thigh, creating succulent friction for himself while you leaned back, taking it. “I almost blew my load when I saw that you were watching me, gettin’ off on seeing that”. 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, your mind still stuck in that post-orgasm haze. 

Joel gripped your chin in his fingers, tipping your head up so that your eyes were locked with his, “Eyes on me, darlin’. I ain’t finished with you yet”. 

You nodded again, your breathing coming out rushed as you gulped down heaps of air, filling your lungs, eyes locked on Joel’s. Your lids were heavy, vision clouded as Joel leaned forward, lips grazing yours. 

His teeth came down on your bottom lip, suddenly, making you yelp. The pressure was light, not as hard as you were expecting, not as hard as a part of you wanted. Joel groaned, his hands roaming all over you. Your hips, your stomach, your ass. 

Your hands raked up and down Joel’s chest, steadying yourself with the feeling of the coarse material underneath your palms. Your gaze flicked down to his buttoned-up shirt, to the three buttons that were undone, the dense hair on his chest, stippled with grey and white. 

He hummed, his chest rumbling below your fingers as you dipped them under his shirt, weaving through the loose curls, exploring the feel of him. His chest was solid, firm, strong, dependable. A strange wave of calm washed over you, igniting your confidence. 

“No...”, you breathed, your chest heaving, pulling one raspy breath after another from your lungs, “I’m not finished with you yet”. 

Joel’s eyes widened, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his already glistening lips. A smirk tugged at the edge, his index finger slipping past your bottom lip. You opened wider, allowing his digit to slip into your mouth, the heedy taste of sweat and something sweeter settled on your tongue, your taste buds exploding with the tang of him. 

“Is that so?”, Joel cooed, his voice dripping, oozing with unbridled desire. 

He pushed his digit deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat roughly. The intrusion was sudden, making your eyes snap shut as you tried your best to keep it together, to not give Joel the reaction he was looking for. But you gagged, all the same, drool pooling and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

You heard Joel click his teeth, a disappointed tsk coming from deep in his chest as he tried again, this time gripping your chin with his other hand, making sure you opened wide for him. 

“Come on, you can do better than that...”, he mused, his middle finger accompanying his index, sliding them deeper and deeper down your throat, until you couldn’t do anything but take it, the will to fight against the shock to your system fading quickly. “Show Daddy how much you want to suck his cock”. 

Your pussy began to thrum rapidly, your slick running down your inner thighs, making them sticky, making you even more of a mess than you already felt. You moaned around Joel’s fingers, sucking and bobbing your head along them as best as you could. 

His hand dropped from your chin to rub at your peaked and sensitive nipples, playing with them, distracting you from what you were doing. It was maddening, the sensation, the tweaking, the way he chuckled under his breath when you stuttered around him, groaning every time you took him deeper. 

He pinched your right nipple harder, twisting it, “Keep going, baby”. 

That was all the reminder that you needed. You shifted your focus back, inhaling through your nose deeply, taking his fingers down more, more, more. Tears bubbled along your waterline, making your vision of Joel blurry, and unfocused. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of your saliva still attaching you to him. Your attention was focused on the strand until it broke, your gaze sliding up Joel’s face, past his greying and patchy beard, his full, plump lips, and settling on his burning eyes. 

“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock now? Hm?”, he asked, in an almost mocking tone. 

You nodded, still a little dazed, still a little flustered. He grabbed your chin forcefully, his grip tight as he angled your head up, your eyes downcast as you kept them locked with his. 

“Tell me you want it, darlin’”, Joel’s face was inches from yours, his lips so close that you could push up on your toes and kiss him, feel them against you, but you didn’t, not yet. “Tell me you need it”. 

“I-I need it...”, you said, low. Joel’s brow raised, urging you to continue, “Daddy...”, you whined, your hips grinding into his thigh absentmindedly. 

Joel nodded, his pupils blown out, gleaming with lust and dark intent. You watched as his hands dragged across his stomach, sliding down farther and farther, resting above his belt. 

“Can I...”, you trailed off, preoccupied by his massive bulge, the way that it twitched in his jeans, practically punching a hole through them. 

Joel smirked, “Yeah, go ahead, baby”. His breathing was stunted, coming out in shallow pants as he anticipated you finally touching him. 

You reached out, hands dangling loosely on his hips, thumb rubbing along his zipper. You heard Joel’s breathing hitch above you, and you smirked. So, he was just as affected as you were... interesting. 

Holding in a breath, you tentatively searched his eyes a last time, he nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving you. You sank to your knees, Joel’s hand darting out to grab your arm, stabilizing you as you lowered yourself fully. 

You looked up at him through your full lashes, trapping him with your stare as you undid his jeans, slowly, with purpose. Your heart hammered in your chest, your mouth already filled with saliva as you awaited what you anticipated to be a huge cock. 

You couldn’t believe that you were on your knees, wrestling with Joel’s belt as he stood over you, towering over you, when just the other day he was helping your Dad change the oil in your car. 

Your Dad hadn’t been any the wiser to the way you had been ogling his neighbour and best friend the entire time. How you traced every bead of sweat that presented on his brow, how you watched intensely as his back muscles contracted under his plain black t-shirt every time he bent over the hood of the car, making you bite your lip as you imagined all the ways he could bend you over that hood and rail you into oblivion. 

You had focused on his dirty fingers, how meticulous and deft they were as they tinkled with the fine parts inside of your car, how filthy they were, covered in inky black smears. You felt like you were in heat, completely turned on by normal, everyday things, something as simple as a man— who again, was old enough to be your Dad, helping your actual father tune up your car. 

Pulling Joel’s zipper down, his black briefs hugged the shape of his cock, the fleecy material moulding his straining member beautifully. Your mouth watered at the sight, the size of him, the way that he smelled, even before you pulled him out of his underwear. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to taste him then, immediately. Your core fluttered as you inched forward, hands wrapping around his thick, sturdy thighs, your nose burying deep into his hardened flesh, inhaling his intoxicating scent. And it was intoxicating. 

Your head was already swimming, your lips rubbing up and down his shaft, tongue licking his clothed cock. His musky soap took over your senses, the way his heavy scent settled over you, drawing you in deep, your tongue basically lapping at him now. Greedily, hungrily, shamelessly.  

Joel’s hands dropped down to your hair, tangling in it. His hold was painful, bordering on brutal. You couldn’t handle it anymore, being so close and yet not close enough. 

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, dragging his pulsating cock out of them, feeling the weight of him in your hand. How warm and supple he was, how heavy and manly it was. 

Wrapping your hand over him, feeling flesh on flesh, skin on skin, warmth flooded your core, arousal seeping from you again. Joel sharply inhaled a breath through his teeth, wincing when you took hold of him. 

You looked up at him through lashed eyes, “What’s wrong?”. 

Joel shook his head, “Cold”. 

You snickered, rubbing your thumb over his slit, making his fists in your hair tighten significantly. In the low light, you could see a glob of something shimmering on his shaft, calling out to you. You took a closer look, realizing that it was lip gloss. Her lip gloss. 

Your gut simmered and boiled as you inspected it, collecting it on your finger and wiping it off on his jeans, practically snarling as you did. 

“She meant nothing, baby”, Joel said, his voice devolving into a groan when you slowly started stroking him. 

You hummed, not completely satisfied with his answer but deciding to let it go for now. He wasn’t yours and you had no say over what or who he did. You tugged harder, angrier, even though you knew it was irrational to get upset over this. 

“I can do it better”, you said, catching yourself off guard with your own words. Joel angled your head up, making you look at him. 

“Show me then”, he mumbled, his eyes glazing over with desire as he watched you intently. 

You sank down lower, face now level with his cock, fingers brushing against the wiry, short hair at the base. You inhaled deeply, inhaled the scent of him— sharp, masculine, heedy. 

He was all man and he was all yours for the moment; his lips parted slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, his tongue darting out to run along his parched lips, watching you like a hawk, cementing to memory the image of you on your knees for him, his best friend’s little girl hungry for his cock, ready to gag on it and swallow down every bit of his seed until she was choking on it. 

Joel’s cock pulsed under your touch, twitching with anticipation. Your lips quirked up at the edge, satisfied with his reaction to you, even though you hadn’t even started yet. 

You leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his tip, Joel’s hand flying to your hair, steadying himself as your tongue popped out, running along the underside of his shaft, the feeling so fucking delicious that he would have burst if he hadn’t tugged you away from his cock faster than you could suck him into your mouth. 

“Stop... fucking teasing me...”, Joel breathed out, through clenched teeth, the pain in his voice making you giggle. 

“Okay”, you conceded, rolling your eyes like the fucking brat that you were. 

Joel loosed his grip on your hair significantly, and you pushed on, suckling at his tip, your tongue gliding over the head over and over again, effectively driving him insane— if his noises were any indication of that. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and took more of him, hallowing out your cheeks, covering your teeth with your lips. Spit painted his cock, the smell mixing with the overwhelming scent that was already present in the bathroom. 

You bobbed up and down on Joel’s cock, spurred on by the moans and broken grunts that were coming from him, your name and only your name spilling from his lips. 

“God, you love this cock”, Joel mumbled, loud enough for you to hear, your pussy beginning to throb again. “Don’t ya?”. 

You attempted to nod, opening your throat more for him to slide his length farther down. 

“My little cock slut, huh?”, Joel grunted, his other hand joining the one that was already tangled in your hair, grabbing your head and shoving himself deeper down your throat. 

You lost your rhythm, sputtering around him when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but Joel wasn’t having any of it. He yanked hard, tipping your head up, your eyes glazed with tears. 

“What did I say? Eyes on me”, he growled, taking over— taking charge of the situation. You gripped his thighs, holding on for dear life, as he used your mouth to get off, not caring in the slightest that you were running out of air. 

Joel’s hips snapped violently as he pushed himself down your throat, groaning at the feel of it hugging his cock, squeezing it like he was fucking your pussy, fluttering every time you swallowed around him. 

He grunted loudly, his tempo becoming stuttered, “What would your Daddy say? Hm? What would he say if saw you right now, your mouth stuffed full of my cock, makeup running down your cheeks?”. 

You moaned around him, eliciting a pained groan from Joel, “Fuck, yeah, ‘s it... you’re doing so well for me”. 

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes stinging as you blinked them away, swallowing around Joel’s cock periodically, trying to get him to cum.

He was close, you could feel it in the way that he was tensing up, his pace unsteady and rushed, head thrown back as he let the feeling wash over him. It was a sight to behold, your arousal leaking from you as you watched him. 

A loud bang came from the other side of the bathroom door, some muffled shouting. Joel’s head snapped up at the intrusion, his thrusts becoming angrier each time he pulled out of you, only to shove back in harder. 

The banging came again but this time Joel didn’t take his eyes off of you, didn’t want to miss how you reacted when he came down your throat. 

“Want you to swallow it, darlin’. Don’t want you wasting a single drop”. 

You hummed again, a hand reaching for his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts. A loud grunt was all the warning that you got before Joel spilled his load down your throat, his seed hot as it pooled in your mouth, the taste salty and overwhelming to your senses. 

You swallowed as much of him as you could, delighting in how he shuddered above you as he milked himself into your waiting and open mouth. He stepped back from you, tucking himself back into his jeans, running a hand through his sweat-slick curls. 

A drop of his cum ran down your chin and you didn’t waste a second before you thumbed it, sticking the finger into your mouth and sucking it clean, a lewd pop emitting in the echoing bathroom when you were finished. 

With a hand on the porcelain sink, you got to your feet, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair and makeup in the dirty mirror. You shrugged, not caring how you really looked, the club was dark enough that no one would be the wiser to what had just occurred. You hoped. 

You turned to Joel who still had that look in his eye as he stared at you. 

“What?”, you asked. 

He shook his head, “Nothin’”. Another bang on the door, Joel’s head turned to the noise, his features darkening, “I’m going to knock their fuckin’ head off if they knock one more time”. 

You walked to the door, patting Joel’s chest as you passed him, pulling it open. You stopped before you were all the way through, looking back at Joel. 

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out raspier than usual, “See you around, Mr. Miller”. 

You could have sworn that you saw a touch of a smile ghost his face, but you couldn’t be sure. You left the way you came, traversing the dark hallway and meeting up with your friend who was more than a little drunk. 

You joined the group of them, dancing and grinding for hours. Maybe your night out wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought. You unconsciously scanned the dance floor— the club for the brooding neighbour you had a quickie with in the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found. 

You shrugged, only mildly disappointed that you were dancing with horny boys rather than the man who had made you see stars over and over again. But you smiled to yourself because you’d see him again, that was a guarantee, and maybe, just maybe he would need to help your Dad fix your car. 

taglist: @morallyinept @reddedmiller @hellishjoel @jenispunk @cavillscurls @kiwisbell @joelslegalwhre

let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel fanfic #daddy joel #joel miller fanfic #the last of us hbo #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fics #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x original character #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x oc #my fic #fic rec

[1800-page-not-found]

Being drunk and complaining how you think your bf is prettier than you (genshin men x fem reader) PART 2

GUESS WHOS BACK FOR PART 2 EHEHEHHEHEHH

anyways my bad for delaying this for so long lmaoooooooo

in my defense i am lazy so

ALSO...i kinda um derived from the main like 'complaining how hes prettier than u' and its more like 'ur so fucking pretty' BUT its still good pls read it plspls i beg u

Characters:(seperate) Harbinger Scaramouche era, Wanderer Scaramouche era, Gorou, Xiao, Baizhu, Kaveh

Let me feed u again with some gorgeous men

Scaramouche was a bit annoyed. After all, as a harbinger, he had no time to deal with such idiotic things. But when he found out you overheard some unsightly humans whispering about this, he was furious. Especially because you had to be drunk to admit this to him. Did he not give you all of his heart? So why do you still not trust me? And how dare someone make you feel so insecure. "No, no," you shook your head, solemn. "I-I didn't want to bother you about such things, its alright Love, I'm fine." you cupped his face with your hands and smiled at him, assuring him it'd be ok. "E-erm.." he stuttered, flustered by you holding his face. I mean, someone as pretty as you is his girlfriend. His! "If you'd like, I do have some spare time.." he paused, looking for a reaction. Your face lit up. Drunk you was quite bold and honest. "Really?! Does that mean i have you all to myself?!" you jumped up in glee. You pulled him out your home in Snezhnaya, going to who knows where and doing god knows what. After you exhausted yourself and fell asleep in his secure arms, it was time to punish. Those foul beings never walked the entirety of Teyvat again. Waking up, you had no recollection about what you did when you were black out drunk, but your lover's public display of affection grew, from shyly holding hands and sneaking his arms around your waist to kissing you in front of everyone, and also calling you pretty, beautiful, etc.

(down below is before the Wanderer gains his memories)

The Wanderer was the equivalent to a dandelion seed that never stopped floating. But when he found you, it was like finding firm ground to grow and blossom. You made him feel things that made him whole. You showed him all sorts of emotion. One day you came home (he moved in your home) drunk, tripping over yourself. Wanderer rushed to support you as you leaned against the wall. "hehehe!" You giggled, wrapping you arms around your neck. "Y/n!" he stammered. "Gosh," You sighed, staring lovingly into your lover's eyes. "How did i get such a beautiful boyfriend?.." He was flustered, face red and all. "You're so much prettier than me and everyone...what if someone snatches you away from me!?!" you started to worry. "Y/n my love, it should be i who is afraid, you're so kind to everyone and unintentionally charismatic...theres even a fan club of you..." (he totally didnt start a fan club about you)

"Gorou baby, why are you just so cute?.." you held his face and leaned in, staring deeply at his features admiring them. Gorou wasn't accustomed to this type of affection, or affection in general. "W-what? Cute?! I-I'm not!" He was very red, closing his eyes in embarrassment after noticing his tail wagging. "My cute little general...I just wanna keep you all to myself!" You laughed, holding Gorou by the waist in one arm and holding a cup of beer in the other. "Y/nnnnnn...." he covered his face with his hands, he didn't want you to see him like this...you'd just call him cute again!

"Ohhhhhhhhh Xiaooooo over hereeee! Hehehe" you laughed, waving your arms drunkenly at Xiao as you clutched a whole bottle of dandelion wine given to you by a bard who was your friend. Xiao sighed as he walked over to you. "I didn't know an immortal would have such low alcohol tolerance...that damn bard.." He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose annoyed. "You're so gorgeous Xiao...my gorgeous boyfriend. So so pretty...hmmm" you collapsed forward, but fortunately, a blushing mess of a Xiao caught you and carried you bridal style (heheeh) to your home. "What nonsense are you spouting...I'm not...gorgeous or pretty..." Affection and love were new to him. make sure you give him lots of it in the future!

Baizhu, as someone who is ill, did not drink any form of alcohol that night. You however...drank both shares of alcohol given. Thus you were very, very drunk. "Baizhuuuu...." you slurred. "Yes dear?" He replied softly, smiling. "You're just...toooo pretty. Prettier than everyone hehehe!" you giggled like some high school girl in love as you looked up at his rather stunning face as you laid on his lap. "Oh my... getting flirty now are we? I think you're the most stunning and intelligent woman i've ever met!" Changsheng grimaced. "You guys are so lovey-dovey it's going to make me vomit!"

As a rather broke architect, Kaveh usually wasn't able to drink such a high-quality wine. And you, a rather wealthy individual who practically ran the fruit industry in Teyvat, travelled a lot. So this fancy dinner kaveh had cooked up and the luxurious wine you had brought back as a souvenir made a perfect romantic time at your house. I forgot to mention. The two of you were really, REALLY drunk. "God that awful man! I can't believe I have to be his roommate!" You laughed. "You could always stay with me you know. Ah but i suppose you'd get lonely...whatever! Anything my pretty boyfriend says I'll agree hehe" You stared at his face, admiring his beauty. "I mean, gosh smart and pretty?! I got soooooooooo luckyyy" Kaveh was very bashful towards your flattering comments. "I'm not pretty! I'm handsome!" He argued. "Right, right...you're handsome! Super duper handsome!" You laughed. "Stop teasing me!" He was practically a tomato! "Awwww is someone shy? I should do this more often!~" The teasing went on for a record breaking one and a half hours! I wonder if you can break the record again next time?

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #harbinger x reader #gorou x reader #xiao x reader #baizhu x reader #kaveh x reader #changsheng

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 2)

Summary: The reader is trying to deal with the secret Dean's dropped on her but things still don't add up. And despite her Alpha trying to convince her they can never be something more, she's not ready to give up so easily...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 6,400ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of murder/manipulation, smut

A/N: Please enjoy!

_______

He what? Hunting people? What kind of answer was that? You figured he was hiding some sort of criminal background, something to do with DNA. Yeah, maybe even the fact he could have killed someone crossed your mind during your research. 

But there was a damn big difference between killing a guy and hunting him.

You were so dumbfounded by his response that Dean took pity on you and moved away, lips pursed. “Y/N, I’m going to say this one more time because I know that’s a lot to take in at once. I will never harm you. I can smell the fear coming off of you but you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

He took another step back when you continued to stare, his eyes darting away. 

“You wanted the truth and now you have it,” he said as he headed for the hallway. 

“Bullshit.” He froze outside his bedroom, frowning when he glanced over his shoulder. “You haven’t told me anything, Winchester.”

You stormed over, poking him in his muscular chest, Dean’s eyebrows raising. “I told you what you need to know. I kill people. It’s that simple.”

“No, it’s really not.” You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down close, your nose burying itself in his neck. You inhaled sharply before he managed to pull away.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growled, backing away. You narrowed your eyes, Dean matching your expression. “You can’t smell-”

“I had to take a psychology class as part of my major. It was to understand why people lie, break laws when they know they shouldn’t, stuff like that. I was very good at scenting during interviews. I went a different route but I remember what scents under duress meant.” You backed him up against the door, Dean’s chest vibrating with the low threatening growl he was emitting. “Terror had a very specific profile if I recalled correctly. Very difficult to conceal-”

He grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back against the door, hand planted firmly over your mouth. You swallowed thickly, Dean breathing hard.

“Listen very closely because I won’t repeat myself. You are going to quit your job. You are going to call your family and tell them you met your true mate. Then, I’m going to make it look like you died.” Your eyes went wide, Dean’s jaw clenched so hard you thought it might break in half. “You will have your freedom but you will do what I say, when I say, without question. Do you understand?”

Oh, you understood alright. You responded in kind by grabbing his crotch and squeezing so hard he made a squeaking noise as he fell to his knees. He gasped and tried to breathe, hands over his surely bruised cock as you squatted down. You took his chin in your hand, Dean letting out a tiny shiver of pain.

“Do. Not. Bullshit. Me. Stop pretending to protect me and start telingl me the goddamn truth because I have a feeling something seriously fucked up is going on. So you go take a long hard look in the mirror and figure out exactly what you want to say. Or next time? I’m going to crush your dick so hard it never works again.”

You released him and stood up, walking back towards the living room. 

“You’re my true mate? Fucking act like it. Alpha.”

It was an hour later when you heard the soft opening of the bedroom door. You glanced away from the TV playing an old movie, Dean now wearing a plain black shirt and gray flannel pants. He smelled clean and watched him carefully approach the other end of the couch. He gestured to it and you nodded, Dean taking a seat. You turned off the movie and sat up, taking your blanket with you.

Dean sighed, criss crossing his legs and facing you. He rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward, head bowed.

“I joined the bureau after college. FBI. I was a data analyst for a year while I worked on getting into the field office program. I’d wanted to be a cop originally but this was like being a detective for the whole country which I thought was pretty cool. The senior handler in my group did these…side jobs and I got pulled into it. This guy came after me at my apartment in Kansas City and I barely made it out alive. That’s when I found out I was targeted because my handler pissed someone off. They wanted to hurt his team, send a message, and I was the least experienced. They thought they’d kill me.”

Dean shifted in his seat, folding his hands together, still not meeting your gaze.

“When you unknowingly kill a member of the mob, you kind of become target number one for the mob.”

“So you’re in witness protection?” you asked, Dean immediately shaking his head. 

“My handler and the team took care of this mob family. They weren’t particularly large, but they did it. Killed close to fifty people to protect me.” He grabbed his wrist, squeezing it gently. “But it was all a lie. That story I just told you? It’s the same bullshit they told me. My handler it turned out was…”

He breathed deeply, rubbing his palm against his head.

“The whole damn team was crooked. They lied, made me feel like they protected me and that I owed them. They said if we went through proper channels the mob would find out and I’d be dead. They’d torture and kill my family. I was grateful to my team for about five whole minutes,” he breathed out with a dry laugh. “They set me up. It was one big sham. The mob ordered the hit on their own guy and hired my handler to do it. My handler, well he wanted me to be crooked too. And by me killing the guy? By not going through the bureau? He had evidence that I’d committed a murder, made it seem like I was some murderous vigilante. From that day forward, he told me he owned me and he fucking did.”

You pushed your blanket to the ground, inching closer to him. Dean’s back shook, his head buried in his hands.

“He made me help kill people so he could make a profit. He stalked my little brother for seven years, made sure to send me pictures to remind me to keep up my end of the deal.”

“What happened that changed all that?” you said softly. 

“The handler and two other agents on the team died during an operation a few years ago. It was a miracle. The other three agents were injured but…in the chaos, I saw my out andI slit their throats. I needed my family to be safe. FBI believes it was the culprit we were chasing that day. I’d been injured too so I was never suspected. My DNA was on the bodies though, in evidence. I had to change mine and fast. My friend is a doctor…”

“Your friend told you about Novi-Alpha.” He nodded. “So you have to stay on it so you don’t get caught for their murders.”

“If I go off of it and my DNA gets entered into any police database, they’ll know what I did. I can’t let that happen. Not yet.”

You crawled closer, taking his hands into yours, Dean finally looking you in the eye. His own were bloodshot, tired and sad. “But you’re not actually scared about the police finding you. Or the FBI.” He shook his head. “So why do you need to hide your DNA?”

“You assumed I take Novi-Alpha for what it does to DNA. I’m not worried about them connecting me to the murders four years later. If it were that simple, I’d have been off the stuff years ago.” He held his wrist up to your face. “Scent is…unique. Novi-Alpha blocks scent to other Alphas. All they smell is the same base component in any Alpha. I can’t be identified.”

“But…”

“Three years ago I got a letter detailing my exact scent profile, even the shit only my true mate is supposed to be able to scent. Somehow, he knows what I smell like. All it said was that I was next. Thank god he doesn’t know my name or my family would be dead by now. But that letter? It came from the town of Mount Dusk.”

“When you said you hunt people…” you trailed off, Dean nodding. “That’s why you were walking in the pouring rain this morning. You’re searching for this person.”

“There are some recluses around these parts. I’m narrowing it down but it’s difficult. The last thing I wanted, the last thing, was for my true mate to come here of all places. I’m pretty sure this person wants to kill me. I’m still missing pieces. At best, you’re in danger. At worst, this person gets ahold of you and…”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut when you moved his hand to your neck, grazing over your fresh mark. 

“I wish things were different,” he whispered. His head was low, hand only still on you because you held him there. “It’s not fair to you but you can’t have your true mate. In the morning, I’ll get ahold of my doctor friend. He lives a few hours away. He’s nice and it’ll be like having a roommate is all. He’ll make sure you have a good safe life away from all this-”

You leaned forward, capturing his cheeks in your hands as you planted a hard kiss on him. Dean jerked in his seat, wide eyed when you broke it off quickly.

“I don’t understand. You can’t feel our bond,” he said when you put your arms over his shoulders and wrapped your legs loosely around his waist. You sat in his lap, Dean’s skin flush, scent like smoky pines. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Sweetheart, you might be the Alpha but there’s no way I’m leaving you here alone to deal with some asshole that wants to hurt you.” 

“...Alright,” he grit out, clearly not liking that response. “But again, why kiss me? You can’t feel our bond.”

“I can’t feel a stupid bond. It doesn’t mean I can’t feel something for you. I’d like to like you. Deep down, ou’re not the dickhead Alpha you keep acting like. You're just scared. I understand. But I need to stay with you and help you solve this thing that way you can get off that damn medication and we can start our lives together.”

He shook his head, yours shaking right back. “Did you miss the part where I said I was a hitman for years? The Ranger? I had a fucking name in the business and everything I’d killed that many people.”

“You ever kill anyone innocent?” He was silent, frowning at you. “Exactly. And I still feel like you’re making it sounds worse than it was. Let me help you. You may have given up on yourself but I know you’re good.”

“Why would you think that? All I’ve done is yell at you.”

“You saved my life today, Alpha. Before you knew we were mates.” You hugged him tight, Dean burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Warm breath tickled your skin, Dean’s limbs finally squeezing around you. “We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be together and if this is what we’re meant to get through right now then we will. But promise me something.”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t give up on us being able to feel our bond the way we’re supposed to. Someday you can be off that medicine and you won’t have to hide anymore. Promise me that.”

“I promise, Omega,” he murmured over your mark. You sat in a content silence for only a moment, his stomach rumbling loudly. He pulled back and set a hand over his stomach, rubbing it gently. “Sorry. I didn’t eat much today.”

“To be honest, I’m pretty hungry myself. My appetite’s come back since earlier,” you said, moving to your feet. “I bet we can find something.”

“I eat a lot of frozen meals,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as you headed over to the kitchen. “Omega.”

You hummed as you stopped in front of the refrigerator, Dean putting a hand on your arm gently.

“Please let me get it,” he said quietly. You sighed but held up your hands. Your eyes widened when he lifted you up and sat you on top of the counter easily, his fingers brushing lose hair behind your ear. He smirked. “So you are capable of listening to me.”

“I am fine but it stresses you out, me doing anything more than sitting on my ass right now, doesn’t it.”

“Despite the evidence to the contrary, I’m not an asshole that wants to control you,” he said, taking out a package of cheese and some sliced tomato on a plate. He set them beside you along with a stick of butter. His green eyes found yours, Dean settling between your legs, hands on either side of your thighs. “Tomorrow you can be the strong, capable person I know you are. Tonight, let me take care of my omega. It’s not much but I can feel some Alpha instincts for my mate and they are twitchy as hell right now.”

“And me listening to you calms them down?” He nodded, his nostrils flaring briefly. “And you can scent me?”

“Barely but yes. It’s how I know you’re not at a hundred percent right now. It’s different than normal scenting. It’s hard to explain.”

“It makes sense. Make your dinner, Dean.” He hummed, trailing his finger down your thigh before he broke away and moved to the stove. He didn’t speak while he worked on assembling his sandwich but his shoulders did ease slightly. 

A man on the run, hunting down someone who wanted to hurt him. The last thing he wanted was his true mate in the thick of it. A true mate he felt for more than he was letting on but still tried to keep you at arms length to protect you.

“Dean,” you said quietly from the countertop as he dried the pan. He hummed, setting it back on the stove top before leaning back against the island across from you. “You said your Alpha senses towards me, you can feel them?”

He paused a beat before nodding. 

“I know I’m the one that was in the hospital today but are you okay? That’s…a lot to try and deal with and be the strong guy. I get it. Your Alpha brain is going a million miles an hour cause you have a recovering Omega on your hands and you’re hardwired to get crazy protective.”

You slid off the counter down to the floor, taking two steps to reach him. Your hands settled on his firm waist, Dean tensing under the touch. 

“I don’t think you’ve been okay in a long time and today was a bad day. I just…want my Alpha to know he can lean on me too.” Large hands rested over yours, sliding them down until he was holding them, resting them against his thighs. You swallowed, biting your bottom lip. “You strike me as the kind of guy that’ll blame himself for thinking he nearly killed me when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Y/N-”

“You saved me today. My Alpha did. You hurt me by blaming yourself so just don’t, alright? Don’t do that to me.” He parted his soft pink lips, waiting for words to come. But he only sighed, closing his pretty green eyes. “Today’s supposed to be a happy day for us. So let’s be happy, alright?”

“Y/N, it doesn’t work like-”

“You promised you would try. Is my Alpha a liar?” He opened his eyes to stare at you, brow furrowed slightly. “I didn’t think so.”

“Has anyone ever told you how frustratingly annoying you are?” he sighed. You simply smiled, Dean throwing his head back. “Fine.”

He bent down and scooped you up in his arms, your own wrapping around his neck in an effort to cling to something. “What are you doing?”

“You’re quite a needy little Omega, aren’t you,” he said, a flicker of mischievousness in his eyes as he walked down the hallway and into the master bedroom.

“Are you teasing me, Alpha?” you shot back, Dean shrugging, a sliver of a smirk on his face. “So he does have a fun side.”

“Oh, I’m quite fun,” he said, gently resting you on top of the bed. He tucked the covers down and then over your body, hesitating before bending down to press a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be in the room across the hall if you need me.”

“What?” you said, sitting up quickly. His heavy hands caught your shoulders before you could get further. A beat passed and he sat on the edge of the mattress, one of his hands cupping your cheek. “You promised you’d try. You-”

“I can’t share a bed with you. I don’t think I can even kiss you again.” Anger pooled in your core but Dean was already puling away. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck was all that out there then?” you spat back at him. Dean glanced to his lap when you pushed his hands away from you. “I know you feel something here. You want me so don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Omega.” He looked away, shaking his head. “You’re asking me to sleep in a bed next to my true mate. My sweet little mate that I can’t go more than a few minutes without wanting to knot. If I keep kissing you…and if I sleep in here…all I’m doing is putting you in danger of me not staying in control.”

He frowned when he met your face, taking in your confused eyes. 

“You need to start taking that medicine the doctor gave you to help suppress your scent. Tonight. Because all I want to do is claim you properly and if I do, I’ll have fucking killed you.”

“Then stop taking Novi-Alpha and claim me,” you said, stabbing him in the chest. His eyes darkened and you poked him again. “You want to do this right now? Fine. I was going to save this for the morning but I think you’re missing something really fucking important. This person that’s after you? They had your complete and total scent profile? With the true mate stuff? Well guess what? They were bluffing you. It’s physically impossible for anyone except your true mate to know that. Any guesses why they’d do that? Hm? Maybe so they’d get you to move here and look for this guy. Maybe so they could get you alone and isolated and scared while they did what they actually wanted.”

“Which is what?” he asked quietly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“Get you out of the way so you wouldn’t question why the operation with your team lead went bad in the first place. Why you wouldn’t question that the FBI clearly has DNA evidence you killed those other team members but never did anything about it. Did it cross your mind they set it up to kill all of you and they realized you weren’t a part of it so they let you go? I mean how long did you get this threatening note after the murders?”

“...Next day.”

“Which means they have someone working for the FBI undercover out here who knows exactly who you are. They sent you on a wild goose chase to a small town so you’d be out of their hair.”

“Why would they let me go? I’m such a loose end-”

“Jesus christ you idiot,” you said, grabbing his shoulders, yanking him closer. “You are not the bad guy. They are keeping an eye on you out here to make sure you aren’t but that is all it is. There is no one coming after you. If there was, don’t you think they would have gone after your family already? It’s been three years since you killed those your team.”

His hand shot to your throat in an instant, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp.

“I never told you how long it was.” He let go just in time to grab your arm, pushing you back against the wall, caging your body in. He towered over you, eyes narrowed. “Who the fuck are you and don’t give me that corporate forensic bullshit.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, holding up your hands. “I’m…”

“You’re what?” he growled, grabbing both your wrists in one of his large palms. “A spy? An agent? Someone meant to watch me? Kill me?”

“...I’m the person you were supposed to kill that day. I was the mark. I was…”

“Songbird.” You nodded, Dean’s grip loosening on you. “Songbird wasn’t even a college age girl. Not even eighteen. You’re older. I don’t-”

“They used my highschool picture and altered it with AI. The mark you got from your team leader to kill was a girl that never existed. My dad hired the hit if you want to call it that to see if they could catch them in the act. He’s the senior field officer that was investigating your team. It was always…everyone was supposed to die except for you. You were let go because you were innocent and he knew that. They knew you were manipulated and forced. No one blamed you for killing the others to get out. If you hadn’t done it, they would have. But they couldn’t let you be an agent anymore. It looked bad that they left you on your own to protect your family so it was either kill you or kick you out. My dad advocated that you were a good man and they agreed to keep you under supervision for five years. If you didn’t make any moves in that time that showed you were a killer for hire, you were free to live your life normally. The only person that’s watching you in this town is a retired field officer named Harrison Y/L/N. He goes by Harry.”

“You came here on vacation to visit your fucking dad,” he said, releasing you, taking two large steps back. “You knew this whole time-”

“I found all of this out at the damn hospital today when they called my parents so don’t you blame me,” you said, voice wavering as you felt his anger stir in the air. “My dad dropped the fucking bomb on me and told me not to tell you you a word. And you were so mean and angry and I was scared cause I almost died. He told me you killed people and I was scared you were lying about why you were on Novi-Alpha. I thought maybe he was wrong and you still killed people…because you liked it…I didn’t want you to hurt me if I brought it up. I thought…”

You wrinkled your nose when wetness built up in your eyes, swallowing thickly to try and will it away. Dean approached you, your gaze shooting to the floor.

“Why did you stay if you thought I was a monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” you whispered. You forced your head up, blinking back tears when he tilted his head at you. “The only people you ever killed were those three teammates and a mobster and it was basically self-defense. My dad said those are the only people you ever killed so why would you lie? Why would you make it seem like you did it all the time?”

“To scare you into leaving. It didn’t work obviously. And I might not have pulled a trigger but I did research, I helped those other kills.” You smiled, sniffling once as a tear rolled down your cheek. 

“You’re not that scary, Alpha. I stayed, didn’t I?” He wiped his thumb under your eye, brushing away the wetness that threatened to spill over once more. “I’ll go away if you want me to. But you don’t have to stay on that medicine anymore. No one will hurt you or your family.”

“I am not happy to be used like some pawn in a game. Your father should have come directly to me and I would have told him everything he wanted to know. I’ve been hiding for three years because of this. I haven’t seen my family in three years.” You nodded, looking away. You stepped past him, going to a chair and picking up your hospital clothes into your arms. “And where do you think you’re going?”

You turned around slowly, Dean ripping the clothes out of your hands, throwing them back in the chair.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go wash your face and go to bed because goddamn you have no idea how stressed the fuck out you smell right now. Tomorrow, we are going to the hospital for your follow up check up and I am getting a blood test to make sure there is no more Novi-Alpha in my system. Then we are coming home and I will be claiming you and you’re gonna stop fucking crying because it feels like my soul is tearing in half whenever you do. And when we’re good and ready, we’re going to visit Harry and he will get the FBI off my fucking back so I can get on with my damn life with my Omega. Is that clear?”

“Okay,” you whispered, letting him take your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s been a long day and…can we agree to not keep secrets anymore?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean pulling you into a crushing hug. You relaxed into it, Dean kissing the top of your head. “I thought kissing wasn’t allowed.”

“Fuck it. I’m claiming you tomorrow. A few kisses won’t hurt.”

“Good cause I can use them.” You rested your head against his shoulder, breathing deeply. You felt another across the crown of your head, a tiny smile crossing your lips. “If it makes you feel any better, I told my dad to fuck off for asking me to lie to you.”

“It does a little. My omega is the protective type I’m learning.”

“Yes she is,” you said, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting you. Your knees buckled, Dean catching you in his arms and guiding you to the bed. “Do not say I told you so.”

“I said nothing.” He smiled as you laid back down, closing your eyes. “Get some sleep. We’ll get you cleaned up in the morning, alright?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” you asked, catching a big whiff of his scent as a blanket was laid over top of your body.

“Not tonight. Soon,” he said, turning off the light. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Dean.”

You woke up to the smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh pine floating through the air. Had Dean baked? Throwing the covers back, a wave of scent slammed into you. 

“Morning,” said Dean with a coy smile. He sipped from a coffee mug, leaning against the doorframe. You blinked as you took him in, hands fisting in the sheets when the urge to pounce on him crackled through you like lightning. He chuckled, cocking his head. “Yeah, I know the feeling. You’re like…”

You stood up, crossing the room quickly, Dean catching you in one arm. 

“Calm Omega,” he shushed you when you slammed your lips to his. “After we both pass our checkups.”

Heat pooled between your legs and your eyes flashed wide when you felt something very wet. You both looked down, your face on fire when you realized you’d just made slick…in his fucking boxer briefs.

“I-I’m…” 

“To be fair,” he said, taking a long sip of his coffee before offering the mug to you, “You did proposition me yesterday so this is really nothing.”

You smacked his arm gently, Dean laughing quietly. “I was in serious pain! A-and I think I’m going to go into heat again soon.” You took a drink from the mug, happy to find it wasn’t straight black coffee. 

“Why don’t you get dressed then and we’ll head over to the hospital so we can…” he trailed off, roaming his eyes down your body, shaking his head. He grabbed your arm and started heading for the front door. 

“Dean, I’m not even dressed,” you said. He paused, leaving you in the kitchen before he hurried into the guest room. He exited not five seconds later with a pair of your joggers in hand. “You really can’t wait to knot me, huh?”

“No, I really can’t,” he said, letting you lean on him as you tugged the pants up. He went to the front door, groaning when you started to look around. “Y/N. I’m gonna bust a knot over here.”

“I know, I know. I just wanted one of those cinnamon rolls before we go.” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

“I have no…we can swing by the bakery tomorrow. They normally have really good-” He stopped when you approached him, inhaling sharply with a smile.

“Oh my god, you spell like cinnamon rolls! Like you have all those classic rugged Alpha scents that are to die for but cinnamon rolls? I didn’t know Alpha’s could smell like that.” Dean’s lip ticked up, dipping his head as he put a baseball cap on his head. 

“Winchesters have been known to…smell like baked goods to their mates,” he mumbled, handing you your rainjacket. “Apparently it’s true.”

“Can you scent anything new on me?” you asked, sliding into the jacket, holding onto Dean as you put on your rain booties. 

“You’re not in pain anymore which I like…and you smell like fresh peaches which I didn’t notice before. It’s…nice,” he said as you stood. He flipped your hood up for you, stroking his thumb over your heated cheek. “It, uh, rains a lot here. We’ll have to get you some better gear.”

“We will,” you said, Dean’s fingers tucking your hair under your jacket so you wouldn’t get wet. “Let’s get out of here, Alpha.”

“After you.”

Approximately two hours and thirty seven minutes later, not that you’d been counting, you were shoving a more than wet Dean back against the front door. The urge to mate was strong and now that you both had the all clear, you couldn’t wait another second to have his knot and claim again.

It wasn’t your fault your pulled him out of the car so fast he didn’t have time to get his hood up.

“Alpha,” you purred, reaching for his belt, ripping it out of the loops and tossing it aside. 

“Down girl,” he said in a low, husky voice but his hands were moving as fast as yours. Coats and boots landed in a wet heap on the floor. Your hoodie, which was his hoodie but was your hoodie from now on you’d already decided, was tossed aside as he shrugged out of his flannel.

You growled when he walked towards the fireplace but he shushed you, taking your hand and holding up a finger. You let him have roughly eight seconds to start a fire before you were behind him, reaching for the hem of his heather gray tee shirt. He spun, planting his large hands on your hips, squeezing them so tight you shivered in the best way.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw. Hot breath fanned over your mark, Dean brushing his lips over the still healing gland, barring his teeth against the flesh. It was too hot and you slid his shirt up his body, Dean responding with his approval by growling against your skin. “Fuck, we doing this fast?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?” you said, Dean breaking away to rip his shirt off one handed. You barely had a second to take in his muscular body before he tugged your shirt clean off of you, leaving you in only his underwear you still wore. 

“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous.” The way he looked ready to devour you made your stomach do flips, voice caught in your throat when he slowly dragged his zipper downwards. Thumbs hooked into the waistband of his jeans and he shoved them along with his underwear over a round, tight ass and long, lean legs. 

Your eyes shot to his hard cock as he straightened up, a devilish smirk on his face. He made a show out of stretching his arms overhead, showing off the raw strength of his body, just how fucking broad and powerful he was.

“My omega like what she sees?” he teased when your gaze finally found it’s way back to his handsome face. You licked your lips, Dean chuckling. “S’all yours, sweetheart. Come and take it.”

“Cocky bastard,” you said, making a show out of stepping out of the underwear and tossing it somewhere on the other side of the room. His eyes trailed up and down your body, grin reaching his eyes when you stalked over slowly in front of him. He leaned in close, so many pheromones filling the air you were having a hard time concentrating on not coming on the spot.

“Omega,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. “Hold on tight.”

You were in the air, spun around, back hitting the wall by the fireplace as your legs shot around his trim waist. A greedy moan filled the air when the tip of his cock hit your clit, rubbing it once, twice and you were literally shaking.

“Stop or you’ll make me come,” you whispered. “I-Inside.”

“I’ll torture you another day. Promise.” He winked and shifted his hips back, lining up with you. “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” you said through eyelashes and you swore you felt his heart skip a beat. “Fuck me so hard I feel you for days. Fuck this heat right out of me.”

It was like a switch in his head flipped, the primal Alpha side of him determined to make that happen. He slammed his hips forward, a sharp shock to the system as you stretched around him, just shy of taking his knot. You were absolutely going to be sore but it wasn’t painful thankfully.

The fact you were wetter than the fucking ocean probably had something to do with it too.

Dean rutted into you again, your fingers digging into his back so hard he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck yeah, mark me up.”

You threw your head back when he planted a hand by your head and fucking rammed his cock so hard you screamed. Dean settled into a punishing pace, driving his cock harder and harder, trying to wedge his knot inside your fluttering walls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathed out when you were both covered in sweat, pooling down your chests, Dean’s grunt and groans loud in your ear. 

And then…on the edge of too much pleasure, you felt his swelling knot slip inside, knocking the air out of your lungs. You could feel it expand inside you so rapidly, pushing you higher and higher, you were holding onto Dean for dear life. 

“I’m…” he panted as you nodded. Soft pink lips locked around your bonding gland, Dean’s thrusts becoming erratic and then you felt him bite.

It was a damn good thing Dean didn’t have neighbors with the shout you let out. The tightly wound pressure in your core exploded as warmth flooded your insides. You were floating, flying, head going blank and a million miles an hour.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cling to Dean as an overwhelming feeling of calm washed over you. It was like you’d never know what it was to be alone ever again.

When you opened your eyes, Dean was laying on his back on the floor, staring up at you with the softest smile in the world. 

“Hi,” you breathed out, Dean tucking your hair behind your ear as you straddled him.

“So that’s what it feels like when you feel it too,” he said, planting his palm on your chest, trying to catch his breath. “Wow. I feel-”

“Lighter,” you said, lowering yourself down, planting your arms on either side of his head. Dean leaned up and kissed you, hand winding it’s way to the back of your neck, keeping you close. It was less urgent, gentle in how he moved his lips. He grinned when you ran a hand through his sweaty, damp hair. 

“I think you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart,” he teased, dragging his knuckles over your cheekbone. 

“Such a shame. I thought you’d be taller.” He laughed so hard you felt it in your bones, Dean grinning when you splayed out on top of him and rested your chin on his chest. “So you’re not all broody every moment of the day after all.”

“Careful, Omega. Your grump might even let on that he likes to cuddle.”

“Oh, he does? Well we’ll be sure to explore that side of you,” you said. You grinned as he stroked your face, a warm cozy feeling settling deep down inside. “You know, I-” 

Dean’s gaze flickered away to something behind you, his eyes flashing wide before two things happened very, very quickly.

The sound of multiple windows breaking and the door being kicked in crashed through the air, letting the sound of the pouring rain become even more pronounced. You may have paid more attention to the deafening sounds if it weren’t for what Dean did.

He was knotted to you, buried to the hilt inside of you with at least twenty minutes remaining before he would deflate and the two of you could separate. It was a way of being close, being intimate, feeling one another. Knots could not be removed without severely injuring the receiving partner. 

And yet, in what felt like less than a second, Dean literally ripped you off of his body and dropped you onto the floor in one swift motion. It felt like a sucker punch as you waited for the pain but all you felt was Dean standing, grabbing you with one hand to push you behind him. 

There were people in the house, dressed head to toe in black and with large guns. And you and Dean were trapped buck naked backed up against the fireplace with nowhere to go.

________

A/N: Read the final part here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean x you #alpha!dean x omega!reader #abo

[toxicanonymity]

just the tip (really)

2.4k / Joel x f!reader / master list

A/N: This follows: Just the tip and surveillance.

Warnings: MDNI I8+. Angst. Handsy, horny, persistent manipulative, toxic Joel. Dubcon (high pressure, power imbalance), uninvited touching, jacking off, just the tip (literally) P/V. Reader blue balls. Pet names, praise. AU, you're a maid.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

As Joel's nose drags up the side of your neck, the strong suction of his nostrils makes your hair stand on end and your nipples harden. "Won't do anything you don't wanna," he murmurs into your hair as he gently cups your breast from behind. He bends his knees, one hand on your hip, the other still cupping your breast.  He presses the hard bulge of his pants into the back of your dress then drags it up your crack.  Arousal stirs madly between your thighs, and he knows it. "C'mon, sugar. Lemme make you feel good."

You close your eyes for a moment, then try to compose yourself. "Haven't finished the dishes," you say. 

-

You wonder if you’re being too hard on him. After all, you only had sex once. You never defined your relationship or even went on a date.  You were the one who pulled away afterwards, feeling self conscious and introspective.  As badly as you wanted to be filled by him again, you wanted him to love you first.  So you started declining his advances and he seemed wounded but didn’t press the issue or make you explain.  He might've thought he was respecting your space,  but meanwhile, you hoped he'd properly court you.  Instead, he just started keeping his hands to himself.  

It wasn’t long before you found a condom in his trash, and your chest physically ached at the sight. During the time you’ve been cleaning for Joel, you’ve seen women come and go from his house. None since he took your virginity on a rainy day in his living room, but seeing the condom was worse.  You didn't confront him about it, but he figured out what was bothering you. He never outright denied it, but at first, he asked why you assumed it was his. He didn’t use one with you. It was in a guest bedroom, not his.  The location didn't mean much, considering he'd never once done anything in his bedroom with you.   

Once he admitted it, he was apologetic.  He said he didn't think you wanted anything with him anymore. He was trying to be true to his word: before you agreed to just the tip that time, he promised if you didn't like it, he'd never ask you again. Since you pulled back afterwards, it seemed like you didn't like it.  Sex was a need for him.  He couldn't not get off.  By having meaningless sex with someone else, he was trying to help himself leave you alone.  You believed him that it was meaningless, but it still hurt. 

The same week as your talk, two hundred white roses were delivered to his house when you were there.  Your heart sank until you saw they were for you.  Then your heart slowly, begrudgingly warmed over the next few weeks.   Not because of the flowers, but his other little gestures.  He helped around the house, encouraged you to take breaks, said he just wanted to spend time with you, get to know you.  He ordered takeout, insisted you eat with him, then cleaned up after both of you. 

This is much closer to what you want, but you’re still trying not to go down this road again. Not yet, anyway. You no longer bristle at his touch - quite the opposite - but you don't want to be naive. 

-

Arms still wrapped around you, arousal pressed up against your dress, Joel takes the dish towel out of your hand and puts it on the counter. "Do 'em myself later," he murmurs.  It's sweet, but you're trying not to fall for his charm.  It's too easy to get emotionally invested.  He softly presses his open lips into your neck.

“I’d rather finish them now,” you say half-heartedly, and stop short of physically shrugging him off.  You don’t want him to stop, not really.  

"You're killin' me, baby," he murmurs into your skin as hand slides down your stomach, then between your thighs, and he ghosts your clit over your dress. He grinds his hard package into you and asks, "What do you want me to do with this, hmm?" His hardness makes you purr.  "Know you don't want me to stick it in someone else," he mutters.

"I don't know, Joel,” you say, quietly exasperated. Your eyes water. 

"Sorry," he says, composing himself. He backs away and leans against the counter.  "I’m an asshole.  It’s not your problem." He looks borderline embarrassed. You pick the rag up again, and he rolls up his sleeves as he watches you work. 

“You’re just so damn sexy,” he says, his voice returning to a hornier pitch as he leans against the counter on his forearm.  "You don't mind if I take care of myself, do you?" He lowers his head and devours you with his eyes from under his brows as he rubs his arousal over his charcoal pants. 

Your face heats up and your core tingles at what you think is a rhetorical question, but he expects an answer. 

"Of course not," you scoff quietly without meeting his eyes.  It feels like the only answer.

“Good,” he whispers, then slides back into your space.  “Sorry, baby.”  He hugs you from the side, and while he’s at it he rolls his hard-on against your hip and kisses your neck. "I was outta line talkin’ like that."  He backs off and pours himself a glass of whiskey.  Your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his slacks as he walks across the living room to put his drink down on the cigar stand and sit on the chaise. 

-

You try not to watch, but you have to face his direction as you finish the dishes.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel spit into his hand then wrap it around his thick cock.  His eyes bore holes in you as he slowly strokes himself. You tell yourself to go do another chore, but you can't pry yourself away when he's trying to do right by you.  Plus, you’d be remiss not to consider how hot it is watching him jack off.  So you continue the dishes, stealing occasional glances.  Surely he notices. 

"Come show me somethin', sugar," he pleads. "Don’t have to touch ya. . .’less ya want me to." He takes a deep breath as he watches you darkly and pumps his hard cock. Your body’s dizzy with desire. "gotta see that perfect pussy, baby.  All I need."

You force your eyes to look right at him and you wet your lips mutely in thought. 

“C’mon, sugar. You can have the chair.” He nods across the room, out of his reach. Then he gives you a look that manages to penetrate your wall.  Like you’re right back on the chaise with him inside you.  Like he knows you intimately.  Like you both know this is what’s meant to happen.

You find yourself slowly walking around the kitchen bar to the chair and sitting down. You tell yourself you’re in a position of relative power as long as you’re not physically engaged.  You can stand up and walk away at any time. You look at him shyly and watch his eyes scan your body.  He looks so hot with his brow furled, perfect cock in his hand.

“Can ya open those pretty legs for me, sugar?” 

You uncross them but hesitate to go further. 

"Can ya show me, baby?" His voice is weakened by want. "All I need.” 

You work up the courage to slowly spread your legs a few inches, but your dress still hangs between them and offers you some modesty.  “You don’t gotta wear those stockings here, baby.  Shit, wish you wouldn't wear anything under that dress.”  

You can’t take your eyes off his cock, and you’re salivating.  You slip your shoes off. 

“Yeah, go on, get comfortable,” he urges breathily.

With your arousal intensifying enough to take over, you reach under your dress and hook your thumbs into your stockings, then slowly pull them down and off, glancing up at him as you do it.  He groans softly.  Taking them off is a rush. You feel sexy and relatively safe, like it's a taste of the forbidden fruit without actually doing anything. 

“Yeahhhh,” he nods, eyes widening.  “Now lemme see somethin’, sugar." He spits in his hand again.  “Maybe just those gorgeous tits if you’re feelin’ shy?”  

You want to, but you’re frozen.  He waits patiently for a few seconds, then senses your nerves and says, “Lemme help ya, baby.” 

-

He stands up with his cock in his hand.  “Can I do that?”  You nod almost imperceptibly.  He strokes himself as he crosses the room. When he gets to your chair, he kneels on the floor.  “God, you're beautiful,” he whispers, entranced.

You’re as wet as ever when he asks if he can help with your dress.  You nod timidly.  He lets his thick cock hang heavily between his legs, over his pants, as he unbuttons your dress and spreads it open to show your bra.  He takes in a chest full of air as he admires the view. Then he spits in his hand again and resumes stroking himself as his free hand reaches for your bra.

He starts to slip a finger under a strap, and you begin to protest, “I-” 

“It’s okay, sugar, you can keep it if ya want,”  he whispers as he removes his finger.  “Can I see your panties?” he lightly pinches the hem of your dress and drags his fingers a few inches across the fabric as though examining the material. Your clit is throbbing.  

“Yeah,” you whisper.  Your knees are still spread from his initial instructions.  

“Just relax, baby.  It’s okay.”

He lifts your dress and inhales sharply through his nose when he sees the damp spot on your panties. “God damn, sugar. . .So hot, seein’ you wet for me.”  He’s drooling, almost literally.  The corners of his mouth shine. He gently nudges your knee and you open a little wider. 

“Can I see her, baby?  Just a little?” He looks up at you, his eyes begging for permission as his hand slowly moves up and down his cock.  If he touches you there, you’re a goner.  So you reach down yourself and pull your soaked panties to the side.  Joel groans at the sight and his eyes look weak.  “Just gorgeous.”

He spits in his hand again, then asks, “you know what’s a whole lot better than this?” nodding toward the spit in his hand before massaging it into his stiff, aching shaft.  "If you wanna help me out, I mean."

Your cheeks burn at the thought.  

“You can say no,” he reassures you.  “Or you can lemme get just the tip wet.” 

His eyes are so sad and desperate as he strokes himself. By now, you want his cock inside you more than anything. Your reservations are fading away, replaced by excuses for him. The fact that you see your resolve crumbling in real time doesn’t stop it from happening. The look on his face opens something inside you, like your body,'s making room for him. Creating a void only he can fill.

“Okay,” you agree.  

“Can I kiss you first?” He asks, which makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah,” you whisper.  He kisses you tenderly, then long and deep, licking into your mouth affectionately, then hungrily.  Until now, you forgot how special it felt when your mouths were joined. He breaks the kiss and urges you to the edge of the chair.  Then he crouches down and leans over you, bracing himself with one hand on the backrest while his other hand remains on his cock.  The stretch of his long, strong arm puts his armpit near your head and gives you an arousing whiff of his natural scent and deoderant. You pull your panties more to the side and open your legs wider. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. 

-

You inhale his musk as it gets closer then the large tip of his cock nudges your entrance, and desire shoots through you, branching like lightning into every part of your body. Without a view of where your bodies meet, he drags the swollen head of his cock down, then back up, pausing to gently prod your entrance before dragging it up to your clit where you wonder if he can feel you twitch.  He returns the tip to your entrance, where he nestles it just inside your folds but doesn’t push in.  

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he stays there for a moment.  He rocks his hips ever so slightly, gently pressing the tip against but not quite inside your warm, wet hole.  Your body tries to grab him, but he drags up to your clit one more time, then exhales dramatically as he takes his cock away.   

It feels like such a loss. "I want it," you whimper. “I want it all.” 

He kneels in front of you on the floor. "I know, baby," he says soft and low, stroking himself with your slick.  "But we can't. Don’t want ya to regret it."  He’s saving you from yourself, and that only makes you want him more.  “Might break my heart if I lose ya this time,” he adds, giving you butterflies. 

Your eyes grow watery.  You fix your panties, then close your legs. 

“Baby," he breathes. "I want it so bad.” His expansive hand squeezes your thigh.  “Just want you to feel good about it.”  He wets his lips and his breaths become labored as he strokes himself with your slick.  His forearm flexes as he pumps himself. 

He shudders and sighs loudly as he tips forward and spills a huge, silky load onto the wood floor to the side of your feet.

-

You move to clean it, but he stops you.   He tucks himself away then gets a towel and cleans it up himself.  He stays there squatting for a moment, looking at you, then caresses your cheek. 

You sit there, face burning, clit throbbing for attention.  “Thank you,” you tell him.  

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. "You're doin' great, baby." He doesn’t make any move to pleasure you, but to be fair, you’re the one who closed your legs. 

“Listen,” he says, closer to his normal talking volume.  “I’ve gotta go out of town for about a week.  When I get back, how ‘bout we do somethin'?” He watches your face expectantly. 

Your face lights up and his eyes smile in response. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “I’d like that.” 

“And why don’t you stay here while I’m gone?”

You hesitate. 

“If you want a break from your roommates, I mean.  You can sleep wherever ya want.”

-------------------------

I have a vision for one more 👀. As always, thank you so much for your support and engagement 🖤🖤

------------------------

joel master list

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #horny!joel #horny!joel miller #pervy!joel miller #pervy!joel #perv!joel miller #perv!joel #pedro pascal fic #toxicanonymity ☠️ #tw: dubcon #joel jacks off #PPCU jacks off #PPCU jacks off ☠️ #content label

[coveted-covey]

Word count: 2,161

Living near a beach all their life ideally would have made anyone develop a better immune system than most. 

There’s the warmth of the ever-loving sun, the salty ocean breeze, the fun things you could do on the beach. With that said, you really don’t know what got you bedridden since yesterday night.

*Ah-choo!!*

You quickly grab a tissue from your bedside table, bringing it to your face to blow your nose pitifully. A cough quickly follows suit, shaking your whole being. You gingerly toss the balled up tissue to the bin except that you miss it by a couple of feet. Head throbbing from the hard cough you just had, you huff in annoyance as you slather your hands with the hand sanitizer you have on you.

“Goddd, I hate being sick.”

That seems to be the cue for Mom to knock and come in with a tray of what you could only guess as chicken noodle soup, a glass of water, and medicine. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

You whine despite yourself. “Bad,” you try to sit up slowly when another sneeze hunches your upper body. “Ugh, very bad.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” she sets the tray on your bedside table then reaches out to feel your forehead using the back of her hand. She hums thoughtfully, “Still hasn’t gone down. Here, eat. The warm soup should make you feel better.” 

She adjusts the pillow behind you and you uncurl your back as she does so. “Where’s Ma?”

Your Mom sniffs and dabs fake tears from her eyes. “You look for Ma while I’m right here? You hurt my feelings, [Name].” 

The scowl you’re wearing must have worked (as much as a half-hearted scowl could) because she adds right after a small endearing sigh, “She had to go to work. You know that she’d have wanted to be here taking care of you instead of going to work, but I already took the day off. You’ll see her this afternoon, okay?” She fixes your hair and kisses your forehead softly.

“Okay. Thank you,” you try to clear your throat. “I’ll feed myself, Mom, no need to worry.” She laughs at that. 

With the food set up on the bed tray, she stands up then gestures to the door. “Then I’ll be outside if you need me.” 

You make a noncommittal sound then start spooning the soup to eat. It’s good. Warm and soothing. You are on your fifth spoonful when you hear the doorbell ring muffledly from the first floor. 

“Hi, Cove!” You hear your Mom’s voice greet the visitor. Your ears instantly perk up at that. Cove? There was a bit of a hushed discussion and then you hear the door close.

Did he leave? You pout at the thought. Maybe Mom made him leave because you're sick. You frown harder at that. But you want to see him…

The spoon is halfway to your mouth once again when you hear a soft knock from the other side of your door. “[Name]? It’s Cove.”

“C-Cove!” you almost choke at your words when a hack disrupts your speech. “Come” –a cough– “in–”

The door opens, your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows downturned as he surveys you.  “I’m here… Are you okay?”

You chuckle at that. “As okay as someone could be with their immunocytes fighting for their life.” 

He laughs airily, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. “I heard that you were sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You look at your phone five steps away from your bed and he follows your gaze. “Something about my phone being literally out of my reach.” You turn to him, “How did you know I’m sick?”

“Liz.” 

“Oh– I may or may not have been complaining to her about wanting to see you but not being able to.” 

“Oh… I was actually almost sent away just now, but I also wanted to see you so I tried to convince your mom to let me stay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No problem.”

You blink at him, his gaze locked onto your eyes. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t quite place. Almost like–but maybe it’s just your fever making you see things–

“I’m sorry we can’t hang out,” you shift awkwardly. “Weren’t you planning on doing something today?”

He breaks off his gaze from you and moves to bring your desk chair beside your bed. “It’s alright. I-it’s not as fun without you around.”

You look down at the soup starting to cool off on your tray, feeling your cheeks become hotter for some reason. “...I see.” You bite your lip, still not looking up.

Cove sits on the chair and looks at the poster on the opposite wall. “You should probably finish the soup.” 

You regard him, a bit incredulous. “You gonna watch me eat?”

It’s then that you notice he’s not looking at you and that his ears and neck are redder than when he got sunburnt that one time he stubbornly did not put on sunscreen. That only happened once, in your younger years, and you never saw it happen again. Maybe he stayed too long outside before coming to your house. You open your mouth to speak when he responds: 

“Well, not watch watch, that would be weird–! I just thought it’d be nice to hang out here, for a bit, since you can’t go outside and all. And I don’t have to stay if you’d rather be alone; I totally understand–” he gestures wildly, and you feel your hand stretching out to his gesticulating hands.

“Calm down, Cove,” you laugh softly. “I want you here. I mean,” you clear your throat, “Yes, of course we can hang out. Though I’m kind of worried about you catching whatever I have right now.”

Your neighbor stills, looking fixedly at your hand touching his wrist. Then he looks up, seagreen eyes wavering a bit. Softly, he says, “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll stay.”

You grin at him, reluctantly letting go of his wrist. “So what were you doing before coming here?”

He smiles back, then regales you of stories about what he did earlier today as you finish up your chicken noodle soup and take your medicine.

~*~

You fell asleep.

Cove looks at your sleeping figure, seemingly deep in thought. He breathes out a laugh when you wrinkle your nose in your sleep. 

Cute. 

Huh, what?

Man, he should get it together.

He sighs, defeated. There’s something that’s been bothering him lately. 

It’s you. 

He can’t seem to stop thinking about you lately, and it’s driving him insane. 

He finds himself staring at you more. He blames it on how bright and captivating your smile is.

He finds himself itching to touch you more. But you’re best friends. You do touch platonically quite a lot. You hold hands when necessary. (When he helps you go up the poppy hill. When he helps you go down to the beach. When you go to town during the peak summer season and he doesn’t want to lose you in the not-quite-a-crowd crowd. Those are what he considers necessary.) And you do hug. Side hugs are quite normal in your friendship, but lately he does not seem to want to let go.

It’s you, on his mind, 24/7. He’s not sure for how much longer he can take it.

You shift in your sleep, kicking off your blanket. His mind stops whirring at that and stands up to gently put the blanket back over your exposed feet.

Inching his chair closer, he eyes your hand over the blanket and sighs again for the hundredth time in the past hour. 

He wants to hold your hand so bad.

But it’s just right there, open for the taking. He’s almost sure you wouldn’t mind him holding your hand, but doing it while you’re asleep and unaware is making him doubt that.

His hands tremble on his lap. 

He’s gonna do it.

His heart beats faster inside his ribcage and sweat beads on his neck. Slowly and steadily, he outstretches his hand until the pads of his fingers lightly touch the back of your hand. Gently, he flips your hand over then clasps your hand in his.

He wills his heart rate down then marvels at you.

Smiling to himself, he stands and leans down to press a light kiss on your temple.

“Feel better soon, [Name].”

With that soft get well soon wish, he sits back down, your hand in his hand.

Maybe one day he’ll be able to confess his feelings for you. And he’ll get to do it while you’re awake.

~*~

.

.

.

You blink blearily, seeing your bedroom walls shining with a bright orange-pink glow from your window. With a deep sigh, you look at the digital clock you have on your bedside table. It reads 5:37 PM.

Must’ve fallen asleep sometime after eating– And. 

Oh, right! Cove was here.

Your eyes look around, trying to get back to the waking world. Did he leave already?

That’s when you notice a weight on your hand, then you look to your side to see your neighbor, Cove James Holden, asleep, using one arm as a pillow as his other hand holding yours. His seagreen hair almost looked golden due to the sunset hues coming from the window behind him.

Like a moth to a flame, you can’t help but draw your other hand close to touch his hair. You’re about to pat his head when you feel his hand lightly grip the hand in his hold. “[Name]?”

You smile awkwardly at him, caught red handed. You clear your throat. “Uh, good evening?”

He grins at you drowsily, taking your other hand and letting it flop on his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you smile softly. Better since you came here. 

“Hmm, that’s good,” he yawns. “Sorry, I fell asleep here.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Ha, you’re right,” he laughs, eyes shining as he beholds you. “[Name].”

“Hmm?” You continue stroking his now-golden hair, a soft smile on your face.

He looks at you seriously and you see the gears in his head turn and finally decide against what he initially planned. He shakes his head, looking down at your joined hands. “Sorry, it’s nothing.”

You nod sagely, then give him a light grin. “It’s okay… Feel free to tell me when you’re ready.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

With hands comfortable in each other's, the both of you sit in contemplative silence; it's quiet but not uncomfortable. For a brief moment only the rolling waves from the beach and your soft breathing were the only sounds you can hear, then you ask,

“Hey, you did not use the window,” you tease.

He grins, gently pushing stray hair from your eyes, “You're practically bedridden, would you have opened it for me still?”

“Yes.”

Maybe it's because of the way you looked while you said it, or the fact that the answer quickly left your mouth, but your response startles a laugh out of Cove. “I figured. Which is why I didn't. Shouldn't disturb resting patients and all that.” He laughs fondly, adjusting his hold on your now sweating palms. He does not seem to want to let go despite that.

You pout. Is he making fun of you? 

“Sorry, I'm not making fun of you,” he lightly grins, his thumb rubbing at your hand soothingly. “I just really didn’t want to disturb you while you're resting.”

Your heart rate speeds up and your face heats up at his soft admission, leaving you no choice but to look away. God, you really, really hate being sick. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, because why is he looking at you like that?

Him and his soft eyes and soft grin and soft hair and soft demeanor looking at you like he’s…

…

“What a charmer,” you mutter under your breath.

Your neighbor’s wavy eyebrows shoot up at that, “What?” His lips wobble into a startled frown and whines, “Hey, I was being serious you know.”

You sigh, then slowly shift yourself up. You do not miss the way Cove immediately stands to help you, his hand still holding yours. You take in the hold he has on you then at him as he settles back down once you’re comfortably sitting up.

“Cove.”

“Hmm?”

You laugh at the feeling of deja vu. Didn’t this happen just a few minutes earlier? You grin at him. “Nothing, I guess I’ll tell you when you’re ready to tell me what you were about to tell me earlier.” You lightly squeeze his hand in yours to tell him that you’re not making fun of him. 

It may be too soon, but you hope he tells you tomorrow when you’re fully recovered.

fic by @coveted-covey (2024).

a/n: slowly experimenting with formatting and stuff. i'm still not sure what i'm doing but i'm getting there! lol

#divider by @cafekitsune #this is such a cute divider oml. i hope nobody else is currently using it in OLBA fics! #cove holden x reader #cove holden x reader fluff #cove holden x you #cove x mc #cove holden fluff #olba cove #our life cove #cove holden #cove x reader #cove our life

[yourfavblondy]

SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS SOONER

warning: a couple of curse words

synopsis: rindou had been crushing on you for a while but didn't say anything because he thought you were dating ran

He just couldn't help it. His heart ached every time he saw you hanging out with his brother. You were so perfect in his eyes. The way your nose crinkles when you smile, the way your eyes light up every time you see something beautiful. You were kind, smart, one of a kind. Everything about you was so damn perfect, so it's no wonder Rindou hated that you were dating his brother. He loved his brother dearly, he had been his rock and was always there for him when Rindou needed help. So Rindou couldn't help but feel guilty whenever he'd sent sharp jealous glares towards his brother. But he really couldn't help it.

This went on for months and it was killing Rindou so it was only natural that he went and asked his brother for advice.

"Ran, what would you do if you really liked a girl but a very dear friend of yours was dating here?" Rindou asked sitting at the foot of his brother's bed. "How important is this friend?" Ran questioned. "Very important." Rin answered. "In that case, you're just gonna have to get over her. I'm sorry Rinnie but it's just fucked up to go behind your friend's back like that." Ran answered lazily taking a puff of his cigarette. "Yeah, concluded as much myself thanks Ran." Rindou said sadly getting out of his brothers' room. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes tired.

As the days went on Rindous heart only longed for you more and more. He needed something to distract himself so one day when he came home he devised a plan to try and get you off of his mind. But when he came home he heard soft moans and whimpers coming from the living room. Rindou carefully unlocked the apartment door and shuffled in. To his horror, he saw his brother Ran sitting on the couch with a girl in his lap. They were making out, the only problem was the girl wasn't you. Rindou felt anger bubble in his chest, he couldn't believe Ran could cheat on someone as wonderful and as sweet and as charming as you. "Ran what the fuck are you doing?! How could you cheat?!" Rindou raised his voice interrupting his brother. "Cheat?" Ran asked in disbelief. "Yeah, how could you cheat on y/n?" Rindou asked again. "We aren't in a relationship she's just a friend Rinnie." Ran answered. Confusion was written all over Rindou's face. "Wait, Rinnie. Y/n is the girl you were asking about?" Ran chuckled. Rin's face went red in embarrassment. "So it is her you were talking about! Well, what are you doing standing around still go and tell her." Ran encouraged his brother. When the situation finally registered in Rin's head he immediately dashed out of the door.

It didn't take long for Rin to reach your apartment as you lived quite near him and Ran. He arrived at your door completely out of breath. When you opened the door he immediately took hold of your waist and smashed your lips together. You were a bit startled for a second but after a moment more you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back. "Holy shit I've been waiting to do that for so long." you whispered breathlessly laying your head on his shoulder. "Wait you have?" Rindou looked at you confused. "Yeah, I thought you were cute ever since Ran introduced me to you. He always used to tease me about how we'd make a good couple. I'm just curious why didn't you kiss me sooner." you chuckled. "Well I thought you were dating Ran." loud laughter ripped from your throat. "I would never date that idiot I'm more into blondes." you said twirling a strand of his blonde locs. Rindou blushed his heart fluttering. Oh god, he should have done this sooner.

#tokyo rev x reader #rindou haitani #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x y/n #tokyo revengers rindou #haitani rindou #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #ran haitani #haitani brothers

[sparkle-fiend]

Inspired by this post by @kedreeva (I’m not sure I quite did the original prompt justice, but hopefully some of the emotion comes across.)

***

It’s been a while since Steve attended a high school party. It feels weird to go to one now, a year out from his own graduation, but Robin was insistent.

“Please Steve? Vickie invited me to come, but I don’t want to show up on my own – what if she’s busy and I end up standing in the corner by myself like some kind of loser?”

She knows that she doesn’t actually have to work so hard to convince him, but that’s part of the routine. Robin begs and pleads, and Steve agrees after making a big show of complaining about it (as if he wouldn’t walk through fire for her).

“Fine, fine! But you owe me one.”

“Yesssss, thank you!”

Now, as he surveys the crowded interior of Robbie Ferguson’s house, he thinks she owes him more than one. This isn’t just a high school party – it’s a band party. He doesn’t see a single familiar face in the crowd of high school students and recent graduates, although odds are most of the people here will recognize him. And the memories probably aren’t fond ones.

“Robin!” he hisses through his teeth. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “They’re band geeks Steve, they don’t bite.”

He gives her one of his most annoyed looks, and she backpedals.

“I know, I know,” she says sheepishly, “but look! Eddie is here!” She points toward the corner of the room. Sure enough, Eddie is standing near the punch bowl with Gareth, Jeff, and Dave. He’s abandoned his usual layers in the summer heat, wearing just a red flannel shirt over a black tank top. 

Steve is surprised to see him. Even though Eddie was cleared of all charges, there have still been some rough moments; a few holdouts causing trouble (mostly friends of Jason Carver). It’s made him understandably hesitant to go out much.

So to see him here, enjoying a party with his friends – it’s good. Really good.

“I take it that dopey grin means I’m forgiven?” Robin asks slyly. She knows all about his crush, teasing him whenever she gets the chance.

“Nice try,” he grumbles. “You’re covering all my shifts with Keith for the next two weeks.”

Before she can protest this outrageous demand, Vickie finds them.

 “Robin, you made it!”

It’s Robin’s turn to be distracted, melting like chocolate under a summer sun as Vickie links an arm through hers – which is Steve’s cue to step aside.

“I’ll be over there with Eddie.”

Robin nods without looking, still gazing lovingly at Vickie. Steve snorts and heads for the punch bowl. 

He grabs a solo cup and ladles in some of the vibrant red punch, wincing when he takes a sip – that shit is strong. Someone laced it a little too generously with vodka.

“Steve!” Eddie chirps when he joins the group, raising a cup in salute. “Look who it is gentlemen – our illustrious majesty, the former King of Hawkins High himself!”

Steve tries to hide his wince. He hates being called that, even if Eddie’s bright grin does take some of the sting out of the teasing. He taps the rim of his cup against the one in Eddie’s hand and says, “How many of those have you had already?”

“Too many and not enough milord,” Eddie says, slinging a friendly arm around his shoulders. Steve leans into the touch, just a little, and nods in greeting to the rest of the Hellfire club members. Jeff and Dave smile back politely, but Gareth just scowls - nose wrinkling like he’s smelling something foul. Even after all the time Steve’s spent hanging around lately, Gareth still hasn’t warmed up to him.

As usual, Eddie ignores the tension between them, launching into a discussion about how the newly released Aliens movie compares to the original. Since they recently watched both movies together, this is a conversation Steve can actually participate in.

It’s devolved into a heated debate on the merits of sequels in general by the time Robin and Vickie join them.

“Are we interrupting?” Robin asks drily. 

“Not at all,” Eddie replies smoothly. “I know you’ve got some strong opinions on the art of cinema Buckley, what do you think of…”

“Annnnd that’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts. If the two of them start arguing about movies, they’ll be at it for the rest of the night (as Steve knows from unfortunate experience). “Who’s your friend?”

A vaguely familiar blond followed the girls over, watching the boys with wide eyes.

“Oh, this is Claire! She’s a flute player – she’ll be taking over as first chair next year.”

That means absolutely nothing to Steve, although he nods like it makes total sense (ignoring Robin’s knowing snort of laughter). 

Claire seems happy to meet Steve, but she clams up when the rest of the gang is introduced – which leads to everyone standing around in a moment of awkward silence.

Surprisingly, Dave is the one to come to the rescue. “We should play a game. Truth or Dare maybe?”

The girls glance at each other and nod, and Steve shrugs. It’s certainly not the worst party game they could choose.

With a stop to refresh everyone’s punch, they migrate to the screened porch at the back of the house and settle into a circle on the floor.

It ends up being a lot of fun. The last time Steve played was with Tommy and Carol, and they were brutal about it – daring people to streak through the house or take hot sauce shooters until they puked. This game is much more lighthearted.

Although that’s not to say Steve doesn’t still have a bit of mean streak. 

“Eddie, I dare you to sing Careless Whisper by Wham.”

“Ugh, critical hit!” Eddie yelps and falls to the floor, writhing like he’s been fatally wounded. Steve laughs and nudges his hip with one foot.

“Come on, you have to sing – or else you forfeit.”

“Have you no mercy? I thought we were friends.”

Steve just grins and starts humming the melody. Robin, Vickie, and Claire all join in until Eddie concedes; standing up to belt out the hated song with gusto. He makes it to the first rendition of the chorus before he collapses into helpless giggles.

“I don’t know, does it count if he didn’t sing the whole song?”

“It counts, it counts!” Eddie gasps.

The game continues in that vein - until Claire chooses ‘truth’. “Hmmm,” Vickie says thoughtfully. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?”

It’s the sort of question that could easily be answered with a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ – no need for any revealing details. But Claire stares straight at Steve, fluttering her eyelashes flirtatiously as she says, “I think every girl at Hawkins had a crush on King Steve. I heard girls talk all the time about what an amazing kisser he is.”

Robin rolls her eyes and turns her head, pretending to gag. A year ago, Steve would have jumped at the chance to flirt right back. Now, it just makes him uncomfortable. Claire is like most of the girls he’s been with before - curious about his reputation, attracted by his looks or his popularity or his parents’ money. Completely uninterested in him as a person.

He wants to glance at Eddie, get a read on what the other boy might be thinking; but he’s afraid of what he’ll see. Or maybe afraid of what he won’t see – that Eddie will be totally unaffected by the fact that some girl is blatantly flirting with Steve right in front of him. 

He doesn’t have long to worry about it, because Gareth is up next. He clears his throat loudly and points at Steve. “Truth or Dare Harrington.”

There’s no right answer here – Gareth is clearly eager to fuck with him, whatever he picks. 

“Dare.”

The look of unholy glee in Gareth’s eyes should have been Steve’s warning.

“Well now that we’ve heard all about King Steve’s magic mouth, I think we need a demonstration. I dare you to kiss…” he draws it out, moving his finger around the circle like he’s taking his time deciding.

Claire looks eager, Vickie looks slightly uncomfortable, and Robin looks like she’s staring down the gullet of a slobbering demogorgon.

Don’t pick Vickie or Robin, he thinks fiercely. Don’t you do it. If Gareth picks either Vickie or Robin, his ass is toast. He doesn’t particularly want Claire all over him, but it would be the better option by far. 

He never even considered the possibility that Gareth would choose… “Eddie!”

Steve must have had more to drink than he thought, because his head is suddenly spinning. He hasn’t felt his stomach drop like this since he was locked in a Russian elevator, plummeting to an uncertain fate.

The group erupts with shouts and laughter. Eddie jumps to his feet, waving his arms around grandly. “I see I’m collateral damage here! Guess I’ll have to take one for the team!” He bows and laughs, the same way he did when dared to sing Careless Whisper.

He’s so… casual about it. Totally unphased. 

This is all a joke to Eddie. It doesn’t mean anything – not like it does for Steve. Everyone in the group just laughs and laughs, as if they wouldn’t look at him in disgust if they knew he wanted to kiss Eddie for real.

He meets Robin’s eyes briefly across the circle - the only one here that knows what’s going on in his head. She looks like she’s in pain.

Steve swallows hard and reaches for the cool, casual mask he used to wear so well. This is a game – just a party game. Exactly like the time he kissed Tommy on a dare at Jimmy Allen’s birthday party. He can do this.

He smirks and stands up, keeping his shoulders loose, subtly wiping his clammy palms against the rough denim of his jeans. He and Eddie face each other in the center of the circle. 

The older boy has a faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose, and a tiny shaving nick by the corner of his mouth, near the scar that traces his jaw. His lips are so full, the prettiest mouth Steve’s ever seen. He doesn’t dare even look into those dark eyes.

Just a quick kiss and done, easy – no big deal. Steve licks his lips reflexively, wishing he’d put on some Chapstick or something, before he starts to lean forward. But then Eddie pretends to swoon, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like some southern belle in a movie.

Would he be this dramatic if they were kissing for real? Steve’s imagined it so often, a different way each time – sometimes soft and tender, sometimes silly and fun; just like Eddie.

He certainly never imagined the laughter in the background, or Dave shouting, “Come on man, do it already!”

Steve freezes. At the urging of his friends, Eddie takes the initiative and steps closer – until he’s stopped by a hand pressed flat against his chest. 

“Stop. Please stop.” Is that Steve’s voice? He didn’t mean to say anything - but with that crack in composure the whole mask starts to fall apart, like a dam splitting open.

“I can’t do this. Not… not like this.”

Eddie frowns in confusion. 

Of course he’s confused – it’s just a game. Everyone was having fun until Steve had to go and ruin it. He choked on the dare, and now he’s even tearing up - like an idiot, right in front of everyone.

There’s no salvaging this. He ducks away with a mumbled excuse about needing some air, practically running from the house. Hopefully everyone is tipsy enough that they’ll all just forget about it in the morning. 

He doesn’t make it very far before he hears Robin behind him. 

“Steve! Hey… wait up!”

He stops at the edge of the yard, where the house lights fall away into shadow, and waits for her to catch up.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Even he can hear the choked waver in his voice. 

“Steve…”

“It’s okay Rob, really.” It’s far from okay, and they both know it. “I think the punch just went to my head.”

They stare at each other, sharing one of those silent moments of communication that Dustin always points to as proof that they share a telepathic bond.

“You should go home then,” she says softly. “I’ll catch a ride with Vickie.” 

He’s sure she’ll want to talk about it later, but for now… she’s giving him an out. “Thanks Rob.”

He watches until she’s back inside, just breathing in the smells of fresh-cut grass and a nearby cigarette – deep breaths in and out. Then he finds his car (thankfully not blocked in) and hightails it home.

****

(Continued in Part 2)

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #my writing #I don’t know if I managed to make it as angsty as I wanted

[sspiderliliess]

diamond .

⟶ astarion x nervous, soft gn!tav — romance

i hyperfixated on bg3 for a while... i should get back to it. this feels like a bit of a word vomit and im still learning to express right but gosh i love emotional astarion stuff. (astarion and tav have a moment while they tend to his wounds | tav is gender-neutral but takes ideas from a female oc) ❤️‍🩹

⟶ rating — fluff?? suggestive at the end | tw blood, references to astarion's past

A tender flame danced. Outside, beyond the tent’s flimsy walls, rain poured for miles. The thriving forest floors squelched with a sea of puddles, the skies veiled with gray. But the pale crimson of the vampire’s tent was blooming with orange as the light within a lantern flickered across the walls and his belongings. 

Trinkets left and right beckoned my wonder, chiseled figures and crackled books that showed their age placed atop the shelves and the indigo rug. In the dark, the gold gleamed and teased my vision. Against the petrichor and iron from his bleeding gashes, the faintest aroma of wisteria tickled my nose.

Ah, yes! The nighttime florals just nearby. I remember being so delighted that our group’s camping spot was placed so conveniently close to those lovely plants. Purple was a soothing color, and those wisterias could comfort me almost as well as any lavender-based remedy could. 

It reminded me of Astarion, sometimes. My gaze wandered to the deep cuts across his leg, caked with drying blood and shining against the lantern’s light. The sight had been with me since it happened early in the day; a bundle of determined trolls could certainly leave their mark on someone—particularly three right across his calf and thigh. But sitting here, breathing in the smell of his blood that strengthened with every dab of the washrag, my stomach began to stir. 

Either that, or his more notable nature came back to my senses. Had I really forgotten how regal he was after all of this? A magistrate, he said. Different circles, he said… I love you, he said. I’d spent a good time getting to know him and his quick-witted remarks. His irritable nature reared its head often, but something beneath the rough had always twinkled if I squinted just right. He didn’t have to take these hits for me. I knew my heart felt truly for him, but I didn’t know he’d be the type to do that so quickly.

“Darling, I don’t mean to be rude, but—ack—it’s just that this blood is finding its way all over my bedding. I could tend to this myself, you know?” 

I turned my attention back to Astarion, who had propped himself up and was leaning my way with a hand reached for the stained rag. The gash on his thigh was oozing with blood, a thick trail pooling onto his blanket.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I gasped and crawled forward to continue the cleansing. 

He furrowed his brows, then raised them, and a smile etched onto his lips. “Now, for a vampire to get lost in thought at the sight of blood, I could understand… but what’s making you so bothered?”

“I’m,” I hummed. “I’m unsure.”

I tilted my head and continued to absentmindedly dab at the cuts. He laughed under his breath.

That familiar Astarion in his playful quips and egotistical humor. Those with a demeanor such as that rarely gained my attention for too long; I was always frightened by what judgments they might make, how out of place I felt. In the beginning when our group happened upon him, it’d bothered me quite a bit and I was sure he caught onto that, thus, I did what any mature person would have done when met with some sort of problem.

I ignored it.

The sly fox had taken note of this reaction. Maybe that was what got him to be nicer to me so quickly, less… prickly, especially in the times where I let him feed. But as I’d grown closer to him in our travels and had more meaningful conversations, I found him to be a book I might like to read, and the teasing came back on its own. I wasn’t bothered then. I might’ve enjoyed it. I still find myself thinking of that evening back near the grove, where he nearly choked at the teasing he threw my way when he saw the small and clumsily crafted animal in my hand. I told him how my mother had made those kinds of things with me, back in Baldur’s Gate when I was just a child and felt lonely, and his laughter stopped.

He seemed hurt by that. Regretful, almost. I'd like to think that turned out to be a nice day, though.

I was pulled from my gnawing thoughts once again as a slender finger slipped under my chin. Astarion looked less playful now, eyes glazed with what looked to be concern. He sat there in silence for a moment, staring at me until I felt my skin heat with blood and my heart tremble, and then he sighed. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to go about talking. It’s easy to flirt, to say things you don’t mean. But I would like to know what you’re thinking. Truthfully.”

He continued to hold my chin up with that single finger, his eyes almost pleading to listen and talk. It was the Astarion less familiar to most, and like a timid rabbit spoken to with the softest voice, I found myself being drawn closer right then and there.

“You told me a while back that you were a magistrate, a long time ago,” I began, awaiting his response.

He swallowed slowly and shuffled to make room for me on the bed. “I was, yes. I don’t remember much more than that. That life is so distant now, a pained memory of what was and what could have been, I suppose.”

He didn’t move aside from a mournful wince that I was sure had little to do with the physical state he was in. He laughed bitterly, “It’s funny to think about. I remember that simple fact, but nothing about me.”

It almost shocked me, the way he seemed to care so little about his old role. To be of such importance in Baldur’s Gate, to have such power over just about anyone before you… and yet, have it taken away in an instant. It threatened to sprout an ache in my chest—the thought of such a family and stability gone in the blink of an eye, power replaced with powerlessness. In the quiet and my dwelling, I understood him just a bit more. I could only wonder what happened to make the paths fall as they did. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Thank you for helping me today. We might not know who you were back then, or what happened before, or what you looked like, or what you knew… But I know you now. And I’m grateful.”

I’d always been so cautious with him, so much so I could hardly form the words properly. I pushed myself to keep my eyes on him, though, and I watched as he looked to the ground with a smile. Those crimson eyes appeared much glossier.

In that moment, I did what any confident, self-assured individual would do. My heart pounded against my chest the minute I leaned forward to gently wrap my arms around him. He paused briefly and I heard his breath hitch, but he returned the gesture.

“I’m grateful to know you, too,” he sighed into my ear.

His breath and curls tickled my neck, where old bites were planted. I’d forgotten they were there until his nose brushed against it and a dull pain bloomed in their place. He stayed like that for a while. “I know that I’m in no place to have a passionate night,” he said a bit awkwardly. “But I would like to spend what time with you that I can, if you’d like..?”

It took me a second to understand just what he meant, and I couldn’t help but pull away with tensed brows and a muffled giggle. “I don’t know if passion is the best idea, seeing as though you’re still bleeding as is.”

I pointed to the fresh puddle of blood on the blanket, where his leg had pressed into the furs. He scowled and pursed his lips, but his smile soon resurfaced. “Well, perhaps that another night, darling.”

He leaned back to lay down again and I grabbed the rag from the bowl of water, wringing it out as the dark reds faded to pinks again. It was then that I’d notice what sat opposite of me while I crouched on the ground. Tucked away from most prying eyes was a spindly little nick-nack on his shelf, with leaves and vines coiled together to make a deer-like toy that you’d think only a child could love. It was placed within a makeshift forest scene, crafted impressively from grass and sticks. It’d been a while since I’d seen it.

I didn’t think I would again.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #gn!tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 18

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Trigger Warning: Mention of S.A./ Violence

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

Early Terrible. That was the name of the swanky, bohemian restaurant Dr. Miller and I ended up at for dinner. When he pulled into the dirt parking lot, that was surrounded by low hanging trees, I was surprised.

“I have always wanted to check this place out,” I confessed, “I follow them on-”

“Instagram.” Dr. Miller finished my sentence. “I know. That's why I chose this place.”

I glanced over at him and just stared. “How do you know these things?”

“I'm sorry.” He stared directly at me, not rushing to get out of the car. Dr. Miller closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.. I know what I do is too much. It's probably wrong.” He opened his eyes and shook his head, “It is wrong. I shouldn't have been snooping on your social media before we started a relationship, or even now.”

I needed truths, and I knew now was a good time to get some information when Dr. Miller was voluntarily opening up. “Did you ever drive by my house? Before we really.. started all this?”

He looked me directly in the eye. “Yes.”

“More than once.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard. He looked like he was in the hot seat on trial. I had never seen him so outwardly vulnerable and easy to read.

“Why?”

His eyes continued to burn into mine. “I know the terrible people who are out there. I've seen it up close. And..” Dr. Miller shook his head. “I know this relationship is new, but with the murders on campus I've just taken it upon myself to look after you.. a little excessively.”

“Even before we were together.. if that's what we are?”

“I was immediately attracted to you,” Dr. Miller explained. “And almost right away into the semester the first woman was killed. No offense but I didn't think you'd be able to defend yourself if someone attacked you. So I just kind of.. looked after you from a distance.”

“That's a little-”

“Obsessive,” he finished and looked away. “I know. I just.. have experience with this kind of thing and I know, if I ever needed to, I could-”

“Experience with what kind of thing?”

Dr. Miller looked down toward the steering wheel and then back to me. “I have a story I'd like to tell you.. inside. It's a terrible fucking story, but it's something I want you to know. You'll probably want to run away afterwards, and I'll gladly drop you off back at your house with Tori if that's what you decide.”

“I'm not going to judge you.” I shook my head. “And if it makes you feel any better, I searched for almost an hour looking for information about you online.” I snickered. “I just couldn't find anything.” I added, “And I totally followed you from campus to the bar at the center of town. So I guess I'm just as weird.”

“I just feel very protective of you,” Dr. Miller told me.

I got goosebumps. We had only met that month and he already had this hold on me. It was a very willing hold, but it was so tense and so strong that I visibly shuddered. The connection was intense - and it was obsessively mutual.

“I want to listen to everything you have to tell me,” I explained, reaching for his hand, adding again, “I'm not going to judge you.”

His face remained serious. There was no crack of a smile. No hints of anything lighthearted or jovial. All of that disappeared when I asked him how he knew about my interest in Early Terrible.

Dr. Miller clicked open the door and I walked with him toward the restaurant. I purposely interlocked my fingers with his and he glanced over at me before looking down the rest of the way as we took the short walk inside.

The cozy, eccentric little restaurant was exactly like the pictures on their Instagram account had depicted. It was unique and dark, with leather couches and plants strung about in strategic places to create the motif they were going for. Behind a dimly lit bar with yellow flickering lanterns perched on the wall was a tree that appeared to be bursting through the wooden palettes where liquor bottles rested on shelves. 

There were chandeliers and odd shaped wooden tables, all seeming to be purposely spread apart so people could have their own private conversations.

A woman approached in a white dress with a see-through midriff and frayed sleeves with tassels. She smiled wide and adjusted a headband that matched her eccentric outfit.

“Two for tonight?” She asked.

“Please.” Dr. Miller nodded and adjusted his tie, putting a hand on my back as he encouraged me to lead the way to wherever the hostess was taking us.

We passed by other diners, who didn't so much as give a fleeting glance in our direction, before settling in at a table for two in a quiet corner of the establishment.

“The waitress will be right with you,” she informed us, handing over a set of menus before disappearing, seemingly, into the shadows.

I looked directly across at Dr. Miller and his face was pained. It looked like someone was literally stabbing him in the ribs. That's how uncomfortable he appeared. His vulnerability was freaking me out more than anything he’d revealed to me thus far.

The waitress came over and took our drink orders and then wandered off with a promise to return momentarily.

“There's been a little backstory that's kind of impacted my entire life,” Dr. Miller explained. “I haven't been completely successful with it and I've done some things I'm not particularly proud of in my lifetime.”

My hand topped his on the table, and I allowed him to continue without interruption.

“I told you I had an older sister,” he reminded me.

“Carol.” I half-smiled but let it quickly fade.

Dr. Miller finally managed a barely-there smirk. “That's right.”

The waitress returned with the set of beers we’d ordered and we decided quickly on a collection of tapas for dinner. When the waitress disappeared again, I returned my whole focus back to Dr. Miller, who took a long swig from his glass.

“I should've gotten something stronger.” He smacked his lips. “But I'm driving you, so I won't.” Dr. Miller’s thumb danced in circles over the top of mine.

“You don't have to tell me.”

“I want to.” His eyes lifted to meet mine and he swallowed hard. “Carol is six years older than me. She was a great big sister, still is.” Dr Miller smiled at the mention of her name but it quickly faded. “I, um.. when I was fourteen, she was twenty..” He scrunched his nose and I gripped his hand harder, “She was being attacked by a UPS man who had dropped off a package at our house.” He took a deep breath and looked back into my eyes, “I had been out playing ball with my friends and I just remembered her screaming for help. Our parents weren't home. It was the summer. They were at work, she was home from college. I was about to enter my freshman year of high school.”

“Oh, Joel..” I shook my head, naturally addressing him by his first name for the first time.

“I had a baseball bat in my hand and she was screaming for help.. crying a little bit.” Dr. Miller swallowed hard and I saw his eyes tear up as he spoke. “So, I hit him. And I hit him again.. and again.. and again.”

All I could do was listen. I didn't dare try to interrupt or idiotically tell him it was okay, or that I understood. I didn't. I couldn't imagine the trauma that lingered from everything Dr. Miller was explaining to me.

“He died from his injuries.” He wiped a stray tear that managed to escape the duct of his left eye. “We moved away not long after that. I went to a high school where no one knew me. My parents did the best they could for us. I had to sit on trial and answer questions. Lawyers tried to make it sound like I was some maniac.. but the jury found me not guilty of every charge they tried to bring me up on.”

I was speechless. I almost wished he’d saved it for behind closed doors so I could comfort him properly. What was I supposed to say? I had no words.

“I'm so sorry.” That was all that came to mind and it felt so lame. “I can't imagine what you must have gone through.” My second hand fell over the top of his.

“I'll never forget the details of that day. I think Carol was even scared of me for a while.  She’d never admit it and adamantly denies it now. But I don't blame her.” Dr. Miller looked off to the side, catching his breath and letting out a long, expressive exhale. “In time I think it brought us closer. And my parents did what they thought was right by moving us away from all the drama, and the looks and the constant questions. Some people thought I was crazy, others would pat me on the back and call me a hero. Both equally made me feel like shit for some reason. But as I got older, I realized that there was one less piece of shit on this earth because of what I did. He wouldn't be able to hurt someone else - and that helped me at least sleep at night.”

Dr. Miller scoffed and shook his head, almost appearing as if he was trying to convince himself of the next part. “I stopped him. He could still be out there today hurting other young women.” He took a sip from his beer and nearly finished it on a single guzzle.

“It's so unfair,” I finally said. “For you to have to go through that.. and at fourteen years old.” My mind couldn't even accurately comprehend what he had just told me.

“It's still better than what Carol had to go through.”

“I'm sorry.” My hand ran partially up his sleeve and back down. “I shouldn't have pried. You probably didn't want to rehash such a terrible memory.”

“You didn't pry,” Dr. Miller said, “I pried.. into your life. You just asked me why. And this is why. This is what I meant when I said I've seen this up close.”

“Have you talked to anyone about all of this?” I asked. “Professionally?”

He nodded. “It's helped. I just have very low tolerance for that sort of thing. And Alec Pryor was just another predator. He's no different than any of the others. I looked into you initially because of my interest, and then I went overboard when I thought you could be in some lunatic’s crosshairs.”

“You don't think this guy ever targeted me, specifically, do you?” The question suddenly popped into my mind.

“No, not particularly,” Dr. Miller added. “But I didn't want to take a chance.”

“Why me?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you choose me? Of everyone in your life. Of all the women you could try to protect from.. the world. Why me?”

Dr. Miller stared at me intently and then finally shook his head. “I don't really have an explanation. It's just been.. a feeling. I shouldn't have even pursued you, being a student in my class.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” I reminded him.

“It doesn't matter.” Dr. Miller shook his head, “Like I said, I've done some things that aren't right. I shouldn't have entertained this. I shouldn't have followed you. I shouldn't have done any of the things I've done since I've met you.”

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the disappointment. For Dr. Miller to tell me it wasn't right for us to be together and that this was over. I didn't want him to have a sudden change of heart.

“But I can't stand being more than ten feet away from you,” he went on, making all of my instant anxiety subside. “And I’m praying that my story didn't scare you enough to make you want to run away. I know this sounds like a line and we haven't been together for long but I have never felt so organically connected to another woman in my life. And I've never told that story to anyone else.. not since I moved away in ninth grade.”

Why me? I still didn't know why Dr. Miller felt the way he did about me, or even why he trusted me so quickly; but I would never spill his secrets, and I would never outcast him or brand him as something terrible over what happened in his childhood. I also wasn't about to question what it was about me that drew him in. From my own perspective, I was just an average chick trying to figure out life. I had nothing over the top going for me, though I wasn't exactly unsuccessful either. I was average, at least in my eyes. Dr. Miller had this natural allure that pulled me in. I knew other students felt a fraction of that magnetism, too, and I could tell by Tori’s first expression when he walked through the door that she felt it. I didn't have that type of hold on people, and I knew it. So, I couldn't help but mentally beg the same question over and over. Why me?

“Why don't we get our meals to go?” I suggested. Immediately I could see a solemn expression plague his features and I was more specific about my intentions. “Not so I can go home. So we can go home.”

I rose to my feet and rounded the small, wooden table, positioning myself on Dr. Miller’s lap. I cradled his head against my chest and held him there.

“You've been taking care of me,” I reminded him. “Now, let me take care of you.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female oc #joel x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x fem reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro #pedro pascal photoshoot #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x fem reader

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Tav Sick Day

Genres: Fluff; Astarion angst Pairing: Astarion x Any!Reader

Everyone was waiting outside for Tav to come out of their tent. 

“What is taking them so long?” Shadowheart said. “We need to continue onward.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. “I suppose I will go check on them.”

Gale raise an eyebrow and let out a sarcastic laugh. “Haha, like we trust you to check on them?”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Astarion says, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a quick check in.”

They all seemed unsure, but Shadowheart sighed reluctantly. “Fine. But no funny business.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, raising his hands as he walked backward into Tav’s tent. 

He looked over and saw them sprawled out in their bed, panting heavily. 

“Hmmm?” Astarion hums curiously as he walked over. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

Tav looks up at him with a slightly glare as they breathe in heavily through their nose. “I’m sick..” they grumble. 

“I can see that. I was being rhetorical.” He put a hand to their head. “Yes, you are burning up, it seems. Well, I will have to tell the others.”

“Can you tell them to not bother me? I just kind of wanna be alone right now.. my head hurts..”

“Of course, darling.”

He stepped out to the others, who turned their attention to him. 

“How’s Tav doing?” Karlach asked, concerned. 

“Oh, they are fine, quit babying them. They simply have a cold.”

They all gasped and Shadowheart took a step forward. “Allow me to aid to them! I have healing magic.”

Astarion shook his head. “They said they would only like me to take care of them,” he lied. 

“What?” Gale scoffs. “As if. Quit lying!”

“I am not lying. Ask them yourself! Though, they are in a rather sour mood due to being sick, so, you could risk them throwing a spell your way.”

Gale clenched his jaw before sighing reluctantly and backing out of the argument, crossing his arms. 

Astarion smirks before nodding. “Good. Now, I am going to go check on our ill friend.” And with that, he turned back around and reentered the tent. 

“Hello, again, dear.”

“Hngh..? Astarion..? I thought I said I wanted to be alone..”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m just here to make sure you will be ok and not drop dead.”

“No offense, but how would you be able to help? You don’t know any healing spells.”

“Yes, but I still know how to take care of someone who is ill.” He gently takes Tav’s hand into his own, a rare sign of affection. “I had to take care of myself and my own ailments for hundreds of years.. I’m sure I’d be able to help you..”

Tav still seemed hesitant before giving in. “I’m too tired to argue.”

“Splendid.. now.. how to help.. Would you like some blood, perhaps?”

“Astarion. Remember. I am not a vampire.”

“Oh. Yes, of course..” he murmured, hiding his mild embarrassment. “Hmm.. well.. that’s usually what helped me feel better..”

Tav laughed which ended with them going into a coughing fit. “Maybe Blackheart should aid me. She knows healing magic-“

“No!” he exclaimed, a hint of his possessiveness taking over. “I mean.. I have this under control..” he said a bit more calmly. 

He put his hand to their forehead, thinking for a moment. “Hm.. perhaps something cold..”

He sat up and went out the back exit of the tent, speed walking, attempting to not seem panicked or desperate. He tore off a bit of his cloak without second thought, though once he did, he was very upset. He rather liked that cloak..

That is not what matters right now.. he thought to himself as he dipped the cloth into the cold water. He squeezed out some of the water before folding it and walking back to the tent, relieved to see none of the other pesky party members had tried to sneak in. 

“Here we are, darling,” he said, placing the cloth over Tav’s forehead. 

“Oh..” they mumbled before closing their eyes, relaxed. “That actually feels really nice..”

Their breath was still very ragged, most likely clogged with phlegm. 

He leaned forward and gently began to massage their nasal passages. 

“Hngh..? What are you doing?” Tav croaked out, still delirious from their fever. 

“This is a technique I had discovered when I was young. Before I became a vampire..”

“Hmm..” 

The massaging was rather relaxing, and felt nice, so they let him continue. 

They felt the phlegm drain down, clearing out their nose and throat. 

“Wow.. thanks, Astarion. You’re pretty wise..” they joked softly. 

“Yes, well.. when you have to fend for yourself for hundreds of years, you learn a thing or two about staying healthy..”

Tav smiles drowsily, knowing he was trying hard to stay nonchalant. “Mhm..” They let out a soft yawn and turned on their side. “Now that I can breathe properly, I can probably get some proper rest now..”

“Hmm.. yes, well, I will stay in here. In case you need anything..”

Tav nods and their eyes droop close and it wasn’t long until they were snoring. 

Astarion chuckled, admiring them. But he caught himself admiring and quietly chastised himself. 

Don’t you dare catch actual feelings, Astarion! he thought. 

He sighs and rests his head into his arms, grumbling a little under his breath. 

His forbidden thoughts of pining were interrupted by a groan. 

He looked up and saw Tav twisting uncomfortably in their bedrolls as they started to wake up.

“Darling?” he says. “Are you all right?”

“My stomach started hurting for some reason..”

“Ah. Probably the phlegm reaching your stomach..”

“Do you have any wise tips to help with this?”

“Well, I find that chewing on mint leaves often helps for me.”

“Do you have mint leaves?”

“No.. and I don’t think there are any around here..”

Tav let out a long, pained groan. 

Astarion started to feel a little bad. He couldn’t help Tav. Would they hate him? He is here to help them! He can’t even do that right! Will they never want him taking care of them again? How can he help them?

“Can you just..” Tav said softly, their voice strained. “maybe hold me?”

“…Huh?”

“Hold me? It’s something I find helps when I have bad stomach ulcers.. and, I dunno.. maybe it’ll be the same for this?”

The idea of holding Tav seemed to terrify Astarion. That level of closeness for something so.. wholesome? It had to be some sort of ruse. 

But.. no. He saw their pained face. 

He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around their waist. 

Being close for something nonsexual felt so strangely foreign. But it was.. nice. 

He never had anyone there to hold him like this when he was hurting, suffering. So, being able to be there for Tav.. well, originally, the idea would’ve disgusted him. Why should they have comfort when he never received any? But.. now….

He rubbed his hand along Tav’s stomach and sighed contently. 

He rather liked being able to give them what he never had. No jealousy, no bitterness, no secret agenda behind it. 

Just genuine care. 

Hm..

Care. 

That was so unfamiliar to him. But that was definitely what he was feeling. Care.

He felt Tav melt into his embrace and grumble softly, still in slight pain, but feeling a bit better. 

He was.. happy. 

Happy he got to be the one to aid Tav, happy that he was able to help (wow, he was happy to make someone else happy. What was happening to him?)

But most of all. 

He liked holding Tav like this. 

Though, of course, he will never say this outloud. Ever. 

…

By the time the next day arrived, Astarion had not gotten a wink of sleep. He was nocturnal and starving from not getting to drink any blood the day before, too busy taking care of Tav. 

Speaking of Tav, they seemed to be feeling much better, standing and stretching. 

“I told the others that mint leaves should be able to help and they went out searching and brought me some!” they said, popping a leaf into their mouth. 

“Ah.. well, I’m happy about that..”

“We should be able to keep traveling, as long as I don’t overexert myself. So if we get into battle, I’ll need to hide.”

“Yes, well, if that should come, I will help you with that.”

“Thanks, Astarion. Cmon. The others are outside waiting for us.”

Before they had a chance to step out, he quickly wrapped his arms around them from behind. 

“Huh! A..Astarion..?”

“Apologies.. just.. checking to see if you are all better..” he lied. In truth, he wanted one finale taste of alone time with them… like this.. Tav to himself.. He has never experienced wholesome affection before. He just wanted one last bit of it. 

He eventually let them go. 

“Yes, it seems you are doing better. You heal fast!”

They smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks Astarion. Now cmon.”

They turned from him and left the tent. 

He watched them leave, dejected and longingly before he pulled himself together. 

Quit being so soft, Astarion. This is not you. You are not weak..

He stepped out and saw Tav with the others, everyone surrounding them and checking on them worryingly. 

You are not… weak… he thought again, burying his aching, jealous heart. 

Divider by @cold--carnage

#Astarion #bg3 #balders gate 3 #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #tav x astarion #Any POV #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #Fluff #balders gate tav

[honeysunai]

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part eight -  Operation : Make her happy

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 5k

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

This weekend, Haruhi and her father invited you to spend some time over their house because Haruhi needs more girl friends and experience sleep overs and such. You laughed at how bold and funny the two of them are and agreed, besides it’s not like you were busy. After quitting the Host Club a day ago and being in your feelings, you finished your homework and were too drained to want to practice any instruments or read anything. A friend would be better than anything else, right now that’s what you need. 

“And so, they kind of kidnapped me to be in the Zuka Club.” Haruhi finishes her story and you laugh. You were both sitting at the table drinking coffee while still in pajamas. 

“They do that often, don’t worry about it, they won’t press you if you say no.” You drink another sip of instant coffee and remind yourself to keep it together, because to this day, you still laugh that the boys at the club had no clue that this liquid gold existed before Haruhi arrived. 

“I have to do some shopping today, I’ve grown out of a few shirts and I wanted to go get some new ones?”

“I’d love to come shopping with you! We can even bring your dad!” Your eyes were sparkling with joy, it’s the first time since you’ve made new friends you were going to shop with them. “If you’re interested, I can take both of your sizes and ask my mom for designer clothes.”

“That’s very kind of you, but we don’t do designer clothes.” She politely declines your offer. Shoot! Of course you went a bit too far, after all, Haruhi is a commoner and doesn’t care to have the fanciest of shirts. 

“Speak for yourself!” Her father barges in the room and proceeds in deep details both of their sizes and and favorite colors. You took some notes before discreetly sending this info to your mom’s secretary even if you had promised Haruhi she won’t get anything. 

“Hey, did you really quit the club?”

You didn’t even hesitate to lie, you just blurred out the truth to her. “Yeah… I just made a fool of myself and I don’t think it would be appropriate to come back after what happened.” 

“I liked having you around, it was refreshing. Kyoya was on someone else’s back.” She jokes and you nudge her with your elbow. “Mori told Kyoya that he was a jerk and Tamaki had a meltdown after you left.”

“I bet they did.” You chuckle. 

“None of us are angry with you, I promise, but I won’t force you to come back if you don’t want to.” How you wanted her to force you into going back.  “Anyways. I don’t know if you need anything, it’s not as fancy as your mother’s couture, but feel free to shop around too.”

“I was planning to.” You smile. “Unlike Tamaki, I’m not awkward around “commoners”.” You try your best to imitate your friend and she laughs. 

She scrunches her nose and smiles. “He does that often doesn’t he?”

“It’s part of his charm.” You add. 

After an eternity in a local shop, Haruhi finally chose the three shirts she wanted. You, on the other hand, only picked out three bracelets, one for you, for Haruhi and Renge… Your two best friends. The one for Renge has large pink quartz beads, Haruhi’s are small red beads and yours has small lavender beads. 

Haruhi was pulling a few dollars out of her wallet, but you stopped her giving the cashier your card instead.

“If that’s alright with you, I’d like to pay for the expenses of today. You’ve only been kind and patient with me since we met. As a friend I would like to return the favor by paying for your purchases.” Your voice was noble and full of good intentions.

She scoffs in shock. “I can’t accept it.” 

“It would be a pleasure, plus you’ve fed me and sheltered me this weekend as your own sister.” She clearly  wasn’t taking your bluff anymore.

“You’re really not going to let it go, huh?” Haruhi asks, a bit annoyed, and you shake your head.

“I’ll even make you feel guilty if I talk long enough.” You joke and she giggles. She finally agreed and soon, you were on your way to her home. 

As you approached the building, you saw a black Mercedes parked in front of Haruhi’s home… It had to be the Host Club, who else would bother Haruhi on a weekend like this? You didn’t really want to see them today, especially after you made up your mind on giving back the uniform tomorrow after club activities. You were too much of a coward to face them now, you wouldn’t be able to do so the day after. 

“I have to go home, I forgot my French homework is due tomorrow.” You tried to lie hoping Haruhi wouldn’t see right through it.

“Aren’t you fluent in french?” She asked.

“Fluent or not, I still have to do it!” Right now she reminded you of Mauri with her cold stare. 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She smiled and you were thankful she believed in your lie.

“Haru! Y/n!” Honey’s voice rang like thunder in your ears as he called the both of you. You clenched your jaw tightly before spinning around and met him with a bright smile. “We came to see you.” The rest of the group finally noticed their fellow member had left and joined you three. 

“Well, it’ll have to just be me, y/n has a French homework due tomorrow.” Haruhi smiles at Honey. 

“The homework is for next week, silly.” Tamaki snorted and you wanted to disappear. A soft chuckle echoes to the back of the group and you glared at Kyoya’s shit eating grin. 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you glared at Kyoya. “What are you laughing at, clownfish?” 

“Your poor attempt to flee us is just hilarious to me.” He adds and you swear you saw red. 

Tamaki cuts in before you get the chance to speak. “What he meant was that we are here to spend the most fun day together as a family.” 

“No we are not.” You snort. 

“Yes we are and we are starting with some bookstore fun!” He says proudly as he grabs both you and Haruhi and yanks you inside the Mercedes.

“Tamaki! That’s kidnapping what you just did there!” You yelled as he put your seatbelt on for you.

 “We are on a mission today and it’s to make you happy so stop yelling and enjoy your day with us!” He yells back and you shut your mouth. They wanted to make you happy. Were you unhappy? “We are going to the Nakajima Library.”

You stayed silent the entire ride, you did not want to speak to any of them. They kidnapped you! 

But they did it so you could be happy… It’s still kidnapping!

You’ve arrived at your destination and you can’t believe your eyes… It’s grandiose. You can’t believe you never went there yet. Obviously it’s attached to a university and obviously you don’t go there yet. You are meant to go to the US for your higher studies, but you’re really considering going to this one instead. All of your friend's eyes are on you. You felt Kyoya’s burning holes behind your head, but never looked back at him as you took the first step towards the library.

A smile was pinned on your face as you entered the colosseum shaped library. The dim lights warmed the place with a beautiful orange like light. You felt like you were back in Rome. 

You’ve been to Rome once in your life and you fell in love with the place. It was one of the only family vacations you’ve been on with both your parents. A month in the warm weather of Italy with your loving parents, without their work coming in the way. You strut confidently between bookshelves making sure to browse the titles as you go, it’s mostly books for the students that are part of this university. Tamaki’s bubbly self, followed you like a puppy and offered you books to read. You settled on a science book he offered you that you never knew about and brought it to an empty table so you could read it in peace. 

Peace didn’t last too long, as all of the Host Club brought their own books to your table. To “read”, but other than Haruhi actually reading, the rest of them stared at you. Minutes have passed and they still haven’t stopped watching you. 

“How long should we stay here for?” Hikaru whispers under his breath. 

“Until y/n is satisfied.” Tamaki whispers back aggressively.

Haruhi snorts. “Bold of you to assume she will ever get satisfied after one book.” 

You smile quickly at Haruhi’s words without ever looking up from your book. Soft fingers brushes hair behind your ear. You looked at the person beside you and was surprised Kyoya sat there, his whole body facing you. “Your hair was in the way.” He only whispers before getting back to his book. What was that all about? You feel your cheeks heating up, but shook off that feeling. 

After a few hours of reading and hearing Hikaru and Kaoru groaning, you’ve had enough and Tamaki, once again, dragged you outside like he was kidnapping you, yanking you in the car and you were on your way somewhere else. 

The car ride, this time, seemed more lively and chatty. It was warm and familiar. It was as if everything was normal and you liked that, hell even loved it. 

After a few minutes, the car parked on the side of the road and exited the vehicle. You were left in front of a rather beautiful industrial building that seemed modern and new. 

“Where are we?” You ask as you all walked up to the gates and were allowed inside without question. 

Mori speaks. “Your mother told us that you like that very fancy coffee.” This is the new factory of the French coffee brand you always drink at home. “Tamaki’s French heritage helped us get inside.”

“The owner knows my father, so we were able to get a free tour of the factory and some samples!” The blond man says excited as you meet a beautiful tall woman waiting for you at the door. 

“Welcome! We are really excited to have you visit our factory Miss y/n.” The woman shook your hand. “I’m Elise Hanako.” The combination of the French and Japanese names made you uneasy, but for politeness sake you ignored that funny feeling and smiled properly. “Danuja Hanako, the owner and also my father, gave me his property in Japan so that we can localize our french coffee.” 

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, Miss Hanako.” You were eager to visit the factory. 

“I’ve been informed that you are a huge fan of our brand.” You blushed. “That’s great! I do hope our factory will live up to your expectations.” She adds and the automatic doors behind her open letting all of you enter the building.

This place did not look like a coffee factory, it looked like a high tech law firm or some sort. The interior was in this mix of black and dark wood with plants here and there. Everyone was dressed in a proper way, just like at your father’s workplace. Miss Hanako explains that the magic happens behind the scenes and proceeds to show you where the coffee beans were sorted out and how they were packaged. People dressed like scientists were inspecting every bean before sending it in the “good bin”... Maybe that’s why your coffee was so expensive. 

The factory was huge and you appreciated every second Hanako spoke up to explain how things were made and was kind and patient over your millions of questions you asked over the tour. 

“This concludes our tour and I do hope you enjoyed yourselves.” You all answered with a polite “yes, thank you” and Miss Hanako was pleased with that. “I almost forgot! I have two bags of our new batch that’s coming up next month, Cherry Flower and Chocolate Pecan Caramel.” She snapped her fingers and one of the workers carefully placed two bags in your arms. “My assistant sent you my personal email, so please do give me feedback.” You were in awe. “Get home safe kids.” She smiled before you exited the building to the car. 

You were shocked that they would go beyond anything to make you happy, they were true friends. “Thank you–”

“Don’t thank us yet!” Tamaki shouts over you. “One last stop, the orchestra.” The Orchestra!?

“You don’t mean–” 

“The best musicians around Japan? Yes, I mean that Orchestra.” He smirks. You were there at the presale, but never got the chance to get tickets. You wondered how they got eight of them. “But we can’t go dressed as commoners.” He adds and Haruhi slaps him behind his head. 

You didn’t look awful at all, you thought you all were a bit underdressed for the occasion, but no one would notice. Right?

“Pick whatever outfit you want, it’s on Kyoya.” Tamaki bumps his friend with glasses and he smiles as if he was forced to do so. You gave him a look that almost said : “You just learned that as well?” You all stopped at The Thread Maker, the town's finest clothing store. 

“All of you, pick an outfit I’ll pay for it.” He adds and you smile at him, a bold and bright smile. 

You all scattered around the store and looked around. You kind of wanted to take advantage of Kyoya and decided to go to the more expensive part of the already expensive store. You didn’t even have to think twice, the dress in front of the mannequin was the one you would buy. No price tag = pricey. It’s a scarlet red Queen-Anne shape with a leg slit dress. It’s a fully flared gown, floor length with a corset built in with embroidered floral details all over it. It was from your second favorite designer (after your mother) Teuta Matoshi. Honey’s voice was heard behind you, ordering a worker to let you try it on. You were dragged by another worker inside a cabin… After this day, you won’t let anyone drag you anywhere ever again!

You look at yourself in the mirror and surprisingly it’s a perfect fit all the way around, not too long, not too short, not too big or tight. It was perfect and you looked absolutely beautiful. 

When you came out of the dressing room, you only found Haruhi in another beautiful pink dress that made her look more feminine. The dress was tight on her and she is probably making Tamaki drool, because you sure would’ve. The guys were sitting on the couch in complete silence, their eyes all over you both. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Haruhi asked and none of them were answering. You couldn’t help but glance at Kyoya that had his eyes on your body already. You put on a show and twirled.

“My idea of a perfect day would be if you all were dressed too and not undressing us with your eyes.” You chuckle and they all cough and grunt, suddenly bashful of their actions. They rushed to get a suit and you stood there with Haruhi enjoying each other’s company. 

They all come out at the same time from the dressing room and they all are dressed the same, black and white suit with black ties. They look amazing! The last one to come out was Kyoya and when he appeared out the curtain he was playing with a red bow tie around his neck. The other’s were holding their laughter at the sight of him being the only one with a bow tie. 

You chuckled under your breath as you approached Kyoya to fix his matching bow. He froze under your touch and you just couldn’t hold your giggles any longer. “Tamaki said we would all wear bow ties because that would’ve made you laugh, but it seems I’ve fallen right into his trap.” He grunts. “I look ridiculous.” 

“You do.” You smile. “In a good way.” You add. “We are going to be late if we keep mocking our dear Kyoya!” Mori gave you his arm that you gladly took and walked back to the car where you’d wait for Kyoya to pay. 

The conversation between all of you was even more lively and joyful, you were really excited to go see The Orchestra.  Once you arrived at the place, you weren’t confident that this was the auditorium they usually play at, but you let it go once you entered and saw the beauty of the place you were in. Red walls and gold decors, with crystal chandeliers made you feel like you were in a movie. Mori took your arm and led you to golden doors that two workers opened grand and wide for you to realize this was an empty ballroom. 

You were confused and asked: “Are we early?”

“We are right on time.” Kaoru answer. 

The empty room made you a bit uneasy, but once you stepped inside the large red curtain lifted to reveal The Orchestra on stage. It’s a private concert… You spin around to meet Tamaki’s gaze and he smiled proudly at the utter shock on your face. 

“May I have this dance?” Mori asked you and you nodded, not entirely sure of what to do. He leads you to the center of the ballroom and once you do, the musicians start to play. Melodious sounds of violin echoes in the room, followed by loud cellos. Tears were filling your eyes, but you blinked them away. They organized this whole day for you, and only you.

Mori spins you around, letting go of your hand so you were now partnered with Kyoya who held you tightly against him as you swayed with him. The other’s picked each other as partners and danced to the same rhythm as you were with Kyoya. You both stayed silent as he twirled you around slowly and brought your back against his chest, swaying you gently this way.

“I did not know you danced this well.” You whispered with a hint of humor. 

He brought his lips close to your ear and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m glad my efforts are being appreciated, these last four years of dance lessons are being used well.” At that you laughed. 

You danced for hours with your friends to the most beautiful songs who, on multiple occasions, brought tears. 

At the very end of the concert, you all applaud the musicians and the conductor for their performance. You were ready to leave, but an unfamiliar voice called your name, and it was none other than Ayaka Saito, the cello player you looked up to since forever, walking towards you. You felt your knees go weak, she was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, she looked like she was royalty. 

“Y/n, this is for you.” She smiles as she hands you the bow that she used tonight to play with her autograph on it. “I heard you’re a great musician, with lots of potential.” You couldn’t seem to stop smiling without ever saying words. “Our manager would be interested to hear you play, especially if what your friends said is true. There would be a spot for you once you graduate if you impress Sara Nakamura.” Your jaw was on the floor. The Sara Nakamura! She is the face of the classical music industry in the modern era and she wants to hear you play? You were on the verge of fainting. 

You finally spoke to her in the calmest way possible. “It’s an honor to hear this coming from you, you are the one who made me start to play cello.” She smiles even more. “I would be even more honored to play for you and Miss Nakamura.” 

“Her assistant will send you information concerning this invitation.” She adds. “I bid you all good night.” She says before giving you a friendly hug. You were going to faint.

Once again you had to be dragged inside the car because you were frozen in place. You talked like a maniac the whole way back to your house. You were so happy to have finally met your musical idol tonight and that you’ve been given an extra rare opportunity. 

As the vehicle parks in front of your front gate you finally take a few deep breaths, the adrenaline wearing off. You hugged all of your friends inside the car and exited the car.

“We will see you for an early meeting tomorrow morning!” Tamaki smiles and yours drops. 

“Look guys…” You sigh. “I really appreciate what you did for me all day, but I’m okay I promise, I’m not sad.” It was a plain lie. “I just don’t have the heart to be the Host you want me to be anymore.” You tried to give your friends the coffee beans from France and returned the bow to them, but none of them tried to take it. 

“Keep it, please.” Tamaki’s soft smile broke your heart. “It’s a gift for you.” 

You nod and thank them again without ever glancing at Kyoya, you turned your back to them and headed inside your home. They did succeed to make you happy today, but when the door closed behind you, tears were falling down your cheeks as you held the objects tightly to your chest.

You drop your neatly folded uniform on the tea table and sigh. You really loved your club, but it was better this way. You linger a while staring at the blue fabric that you were giving up. You were never one to give up, but recently you have. You gave up on Kyoya, your family duties, your plan to get another financé, you also gave up on your club, your friends… You were tired and disappointed in yourself. You wanted to get better and be better.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” A deep voice makes you gasp out loud by surprise. Kyoya. 

Your hand was on your heart. “Good God! You scared me.” 

He did not care for your reaction. “You don’t have to leave the club.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Did they ask you to tell me this?”

“They have told me multiple times, but I chose to.” He starts. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change my mind.” You scoff.  

“I know, you are stubborn as a mule.” He lightly chuckles.

“If that’s all, I’ll go. I have somewhere else to be.” You lied and started to walk towards the exit, but he put himself in front of you. 

“Why did you do all of this?” You were confused. “Why did you want Koichi over me?”

You scoff, absolutely baffled by what he was asking. “Because you don’t love me, Kyoya.” It was as simple as that. “Because liking on only one side is just too hard to do. You refuse to fall in love with me no matter how much I try to be perfect for you.” He was silent. You took that time to walk past him in a rush but stopped as you heard his voice once again. 

“I can’t fall in love with you. I– I can’t because if I do I am afraid I’ll end up doing the same mistake my parents did. They fell in love and then… They didn’t. It ruined the relationships between the family.” The look in his eyes… It was painful and sad, Kyoya was hurt. It probably took a lot of his courage to finally admit you spent months trying to figure out. Seeing him lose his composure in front of you saddened you. “It became a competition between me and my brothers, my mother being sad all– all of the time… My father… He doesn’t give any of us breaks, he’s relentless and he just cares about success. He doesn’t care about us, my brothers and I… My mother, his own wife who he is supposed to love and to cherish…” He was out of breath, all these feelings were finally out. “That’s why I can’t fall in love with you, because I don’t ever want you to end up like my mother if I end up like my father.”

It took you a good ten seconds to analyze what he had just confessed to you. All of it. Your heart broke for him and his family. No matter how much you wanted to console him, that was not what you needed to say. “That’s not good enough.” Was what came out of your mouth. He was perplexed. “That’s not good enough.” You repeated. “It’s not good enough for all of the times you put yourself in the way of a guy I talked to. For all the times you were kind and flirty and then you weren’t. It’s just not good enough.” He was hurt by your words, you knew it. His eyes couldn’t lie. “Is this hypothesis worth more than hurting me?” He doesn’t answer, but never breaks your gaze. You wanted to break and cry, but you stood your ground proud and strong just like your father taught you. “I can’t marry someone who’s afraid to take a leap and fall in love with me. I guess trying to make you feel what I felt was too demanding.”

“You loved me?”

“Does it matter? You don’t care, Kyoya. You don’t care about what my favorite songs are, you don’t care about my favorite books… Even Koichi was interested in what book was next on my list and he didn’t even love me one bit.” You scoff. 

“It’s Lucy by the sea.”

“What?”

“Your next read. It’s Lucy by the sea.” You were confused as to how he knows. “I got a hold of your list from your maid to know what book I should buy you next, in every stupid edition possible because that would make you happy. But no… I don’t care, right?” You were taken back from this confession. “I wore that stupid tie to make you laugh, I organized the whole day with Tamaki so that you would be able to understand that I am sorry.” He adds and something in your heart pinches. He made it all happen so that you would forgive him, but that’s not what you needed nor wanted from him.

“It’s still not enough.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. You blink them away before turning your back ready to leave the music room, you had enough. 

“Fuck.” He whispered before running after you, yanking you to the side to trap you between the wall and him. You wanted to push him away, but couldn’t as he lowered his head to crash his lips against yours. It was sudden and gentle. His lips tasted like mint and were so soft against yours. He was so careful with his next movements, his warm hands cradled your face opening your mouth just enough so his tongue could cross the borders of your lips to devour you entirely. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck asking, begging for more. More touch, more passion, more of anything, you only wanted him. You raked your hands in his hair and fuck did it do something to him, his hand gripped your hips with such strength moving you against his thigh between your legs. It was so erotic you moaned against his lips which made him smirked. He pulled away enough to look at you in the eyes, truly look at you. “Don’t cry because of me.” He whispers stroking your cheeks so, so slowly, you want to melt in his touch. You pull him by his tie so his lips are on yours again. Your hands roamed his chest and shoulders and my god he was muscular, the uniforms didn’t do him a favor.  His hands were snacking around your waist underneath your dress shirt, memorizing the curves of your body. His touch was warm and soft, you were hypnotized by him. He slowly pulled away to kiss your cheek, then all the way up your jaw to leave one soft kiss under your ear. 

“Do you know how long I've wanted this?” He whispers in your ear. You were so warm, you thought perhaps you were running a fever, but one of Kyoya's hands carefully unbuttoned two of the buttons of your dress shirt, you knew you weren’t having any fever dreams. You looked up at him and you could see his gaze linger on your chest slightly exposed before facing you again. Hunger and lust was the only thing you could see in him. Without ever looking away, his fingers pushed the collar of your shirt to the side so your shoulder was bare for him. His featherlike kisses tickled your skin as he left a trail of them to the side of your neck all the way to your shoulder. He gently nibbled the sensible skin with his lips and tongue teasing you in a way that had you softly moaning, reprimanding for more. He smirked against your bare shoulder before biting the skin that had you rolling your eyes. 

The bell snapped the both of you out of our interaction making him pull away from you. You sigh in disapproval, you didn’t want him to leave now that you truly kissed him. He went to open the door, but stopped without looking at you. “Keep the uniform,” He spoke slowly : “and don’t replace me.” That’s what it was about… He wanted to prove you needed him, that he was better. He was jealous. Two can play that game especially if you are better at it.

You were back in your uniform and ready to conquer the day as you walked into the Music Room number 3 the day after, slamming your hand on the tea table in front of Tamaki. “I want in.”

“Excuse you?” He asked before sipping his tea. 

“I want my role back in the Host Club, I am so sorry for how mean I was that day. But this club means a lot to me and I made a promise to you that I want to keep.” You were practically begging for him to take you back.

“What changed?” Hikaru asks.

“I guess your operation worked a little too well.” You smirk.

“You’re still in the Host Club, you don’t need permission to come back.” Tamaki smiles and you nod. You turn back to Kyoya and he smirks at you before deviating his gaze back to his laptop.

Maybe it's not about finding someone else, maybe you just need another approach towards Kyoya and if it’s through challenges and working each other up that you’ll get through him, so be it.

AN: Hi everyone! So sorry it took so long for this update, this chapter was written, deleted, written, deleted... like a thousand times. I hope this chapter filled your heart with some Kyoya love. I hope you all had wonderful holidays and since today, for me, is still Dec 31. I hope you all have a great 2023 filled with love and happiness! I promise y/n and Kyoya will get some happiness and love in 2023 as well.

#Kyoya #Kyoya Ootori #ohshc kyoya #kyoya smut #kyoya x reader #kyoya fluff #ohshc anime #OHSHC #ohshc fanfic #ohshc smut #ouran host club #ouran high school host club #ouran academy #ouran au #ouran x reader #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #anime

[sexhaver]

me n bailey marathoned the first season of this show over the last few days. some thoughts:

Alan Cumming, specifically his accent and wardrobe, are by far the highlights of this show. i sincerely hope someone has made an edit compiling all of his outfits without any of the actual gameplay, because he is consistently serving cunt

like just look at this

that being said i did keep seeing him as Fegan Floop from Spy Kids

oh right there's an actual game/competition component to this

im just gonna get this out of the way: the entire premise of the show is fundamentally flawed. they keep trying to make it sound like the three Traitors in the group are "backstabbing" and "working against" the Faithful (non-Traitors), but, like, everyone on the show (Traitor or Faithful) is competing for the exact same prize pool. it's not like The Mole (or any other social deduction game), where the secret evil team actually has different goals diametrically opposed to those of the good team and has to complete them without having anyone notice. here, the evil team just... votes on someone to "murder" every night. that's it.

to emphasize this point: the literal only thing that can ever give you away as a Traitor is being bad at lying/concealing guilt. there are ZERO gameplay differences between the goals of a Traitor and the goals of a Faithful, which means the arguments over who to vote for banishing are based entirely on "gut feelings"

nobody on the show has ever played a social deduction game before. late into the season, there's a day where all 3 Traitors are alive and it's down to 6 people total (so 3v3). anyone who has played Mafia/Werewolf/ToS/etc knows what this means: barring bullshit last-minute rules from the producers, it is quite literally impossible for the Traitors to lose, because none of them can be voted up. it takes 4 out of 6 votes to exile someone, and there are only 3 Faithful left. if no Traitor votes for another Traitor, then it is, again, literally impossible for a Traitor to be exiled. furthermore, if they all coordinate their votes on one Faithful, all they have to do is convince one of the remaining two Faithfuls to vote with them, and they instantly win $180k (split three ways). and hey, wouldn't you know it, one of the Faithfuls (Kate) was already really suspicious, and another one of the Faithfuls (Quentin) said out loud multiple times that he was voting for her!

so what do you think the Traitors did?

god this part pissed me off so much im having to pause for breathe while typing this. okay. so.

two of the Traitors voted for the third Traitor, who got voted off.

after being voted off, youre supposed to walk up to the Circle of Truth and reveal if you were a Traitor or not. the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was entirely too nice and gracious about it. me n bailey discussed this and came to the conclusion that we would either a) out the other Traitors on the stand and explain, using game theory and math, exactly how fucking stupid they are, completely ruining the game for them, or b) pretend to cry a little while walking up to the Circle of Truth but as soon as you walk behind the first other Traitor's chair you flip it over backwards and elbow drop their nose into their face while screaming "YOU STOLE $60K FROM ME YOU SON OF A BITCH"

also the guy who got eliminated (Christian) was very clearly autistic and Every Single Reason the other traitors gave for not liking him was like straight out of the DSM V diagnostic criteria ("he talks too loud and laughs weird", "he's got way too much energy all the time", "his emotional responses don't make sense")

apparently there's a season 2 but i cannot bring myself to watch it after seeing Christian thrown to the lions (ayyy Sunday school reference)

also at one point a Faithful has to leave because of COVID (this was filmed in 2020) so the producers don't let the Traitors murder anyone that night for balance reasons, but to compensate, they tell them they can like. write down three names that will be publicly revealed to everyone the next morning, and then one of those people dies the next night. so obviously this is mostly a nerf for the Traitors because they miss a night of killing someone, but the intention was clearly to give the Traitors an opportunity to sow confusion by putting one or two of their OWN names onto the list to make them seem like Faithfuls. and they even had an extra objective during that day's game where one of the three people could earn a "shield" to protect them that night, so if a Traitor was on the list, they could basically "steal" the shield from the other 2 (since they obviously weren't getting killed no matter what). but i think the Traitors heard "write down three names" and "kill" and had all the blood rush to their respective dicks because they just wrote three Faithfuls lmao. deeply unserious show

#the traitors

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [3]

Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs? (Astarion begins to think he does not deserve you.)

Word Count: ~9k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", following Astarion romance route in his POV + my hc/additional scenes, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, mutual pining, Wyll/Karlach, implied Wyll/Reader [Part 2]

[Act II: Moonrise Towers]

Getting into Moonrise was almost too easy. It is a relatively stressless trip if not for the grand introduction of Ketheric Thorm. The man truly is invulnerable, walking up the steps of the tower without care after being killed twice right before their eyes. It is no wonder Moonrise follows his command, convinced of his authority as the Absolute's chosen. 

It is equally as easy to convince Moonrise that they are all willing followers of the Absolute. Z'rell is the only person they truly had to demonstrate loyalty to, but Astarion watches you display just enough cruelty to the goblins to prove your place. 

“Your lust for the neck pricker is succulent,” she suddenly says, eyes turning to him. Astarion looks to you in question, only to see you glance away in mild embarrassment. “It almost makes me want to take a bite out of him myself.”

“Enough,” you say, clearing your throat. “Surely you know by now we're loyal to the cause?”

She does, or she says as much when she assigns them a mission to help Balthazar get the artifact responsible for Ketheric Thorm's immortality. Astarion doesn't really know the details, not caring much to pay attention when he already understands the gist of it involves killing someone. Besides, he is more interested in what exactly Z'rell saw in your thoughts. If only to tease you about your ‘succulent lust’ for him, he means to bring it up the first chance he gets. 

You must realize this, because you take your time exploring Moonrise Towers and keeping them all preoccupied. Gale manages to get blessed for the first time in what seems like forever by his goddess when he rids of the foul Netherese magic circle in Balthazar's chambers. Karlach gets her chance to pet the undead guard dog in Ketheric's private quarters, and you keep him preoccupied with all the chests they have to unlock.

Astarion gets an opportunity to talk after they find Melodia Thorm's room and the letters she gave to her husband, but he finds you solemn in thought at the discovery, so he decides (for once) to leave you be for now. 

Then they meet Araj Oblodra, and the thought completely leaves his head.

He barely resists the urge to cover his nose for how foul her blood smells. He manages to smile rather than grimace when they first greet her, though he finds his efforts wasted when she sets her eyes on him to be bitten. Astarion can't imagine something he would want to do less.

When the drow asks if he ‘belongs’ to you, Astarion watches as you frown. "Astarion can answer for himself just fine," you say. "He's his own person." 

It is almost adorable how disconcerted you look when the drow continues on, as if you can't quite understand why anyone would think you could own him. Astarion finds it annoyingly familiar though, the way he is viewed as something lesser without needs or preferences. Your easy agreement to his own autonomy is... refreshing. He has known your proclivity for all things good and fair, but to have you display it in full for his sake,  Astarion feels touched.

“I will have to decline,” he tells her with a stiff smile.

The blood dealer bristles, not expecting his response, and he begins to feel uneasy despite himself. “Excuse me? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it.”

Astarion nearly bares his fangs in response. “I gave you my answer,” he hisses, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees you shift, stepping closer to him. The unease at refusing the offer dissipates knowing you are there to support him, even when the drow becomes increasingly displeased. 

“Can't you talk sense into your obstinate charge?” Araj demands, and you quip her with a short and sharp smile. That’s one he hasn’t seen in a while, Astarion thinks, forced civility wielded like a weapon against those who have found themselves on your bad side. Which you do have, to his past surprise. Astarion just never imagined that he would bear witness to someone landing themselves in it just because of the way they speak to him. 

Astarion would be lying if he said he was not pleased.

"I don't really see why he needs to say yes,” you drawl. “I'm surprised he said no, to be honest."

Ugh, you are honest even in the worst of times.

"Sorry, one moment..." Amusement and exasperation battles in equal strength as he pulls you away just enough to speak to you privately. "Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some potion?" He asks, though when he sees genuine confusion flit back into your expression, he confirms your question is out of curiosity not persuasion. You seem almost panicked at the thought of his suggestion being true.

"What? No," you reply back to him, alarmed. "I would never!” You desperately scramble to explain yourself. “I just thought you'd jump at the opportunity to bite people. I was, you know, just a little surprised.”

Funnily enough, you may have a point. A point that need not happen in front of an annoyed drow, but a point nonetheless. He could never truly fault you for being right, however inconvenient it is sometimes. (In the past, he would never have imagined he would feel this way about you.) "Well, yes, you aren't wrong,” he says, “but something smells off about her blood. I don't need to taste it to know it's going to be awful."

He shudders for good measure, and he sees your lips quirk up at his dramatics. He thinks briefly about how he has only known the taste of your blood, besides the time he was compelled to take a bite out of Gale because of a cursed frog. The drow's blood smells worse than his netherese poisoned blood, and in comparison, yours is almost sweet. Astarion finds himself elaborating without prompting. "Nothing that will kill me, but I'd rather not go through it if I don't have to."

You nod. "Okay,” you say easily, “if you don't want to, you don't have to.”

"Alright," Astarion replies automatically before his surprise can stop him. Just like that, he thinks, and he can make choices for himself just by how it makes him feel. It's rather novel. The realization is quite overwhelming, despite how simple you make it seem. He pauses, shooting you a quick smile-- or what he hopes is a smile. "Uh, thank you." 

You only wave your hand at him and turn back to the drow with an unapologetic smile. He faces the drow with you and turns her down again, much to her immense displeasure. 

You manage to lift Araj's moods somewhat when you offer up your blood for experimentation. Astarion isn't happy about the exchange, for who knows what the drow will do with your blood, but you seem genuinely curious enough about the whole concept. You get a flask made from your blood in return, which you give to him almost immediately. 

“A gift,” you tell him. “Let me know what it does if you drink it.” A flicker of guilt comes and goes when he accepts it, and for a brief and endearing moment he thinks this may be a gesture made because of the misunderstanding earlier. He feels pleasantly surprised by how quickly you come to his defense and try to make amends when you think you have done him a disservice– as though his feelings mattered. 

You tilt your head curiously. “Can you still smell my blood in the potion?”

Astarion opens up the flask and takes a look. In the bouquet of herbal scents, yes, he can identify your blood mixed in it. He rather thinks he is quite familiar with it, and it is a taste he can never get tired of. 

He wants to thank you but finds that he has bigger things to be grateful for. He has never been shy of showing thanks, but what you've just done for him in front of Araj is too important to him for it to be said in passing.

At every chance you get, you make him feel... seen. Safe. He is his own person, vampirism be damned– a living being with his own thoughts and feelings, and you make it known to him and to everyone even if he himself cannot see it. Your goodness remains in the face of temptation, and you are unwavering in your beliefs when you believe it to be right. How does one even begin to thank you for not betraying his faith in you like that? 

(What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if you had demanded him to bite the drow, regardless of how he felt? If you had placed more value in the potion's abilities than in his own free will? He suspects his relationship with you would be unsalvageable. For some things may be forgiven–and he feels as though he would forgive many things for you–but he cannot afford to lose himself again, even to you.)

Astarion doesn't get a chance with you alone for a while, the party having moved on to trying to break the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. The tieflings– Rolan will absolutely hate the fact they will have saved Lia and Cal for him--and dark gnomes alike all wait in the prisons for the right time to hatch their plan. They are lucky to have them show up when they do and guide them out without a single trace. Astarion is almost disappointed that there wasn’t a fight to be had. 

He waits until the freed gnomes and tieflings steer their way to Last Light Inn in the distance before he speaks with you. Water laps at the makeshift port the prisoners sailed from, and as Gale goes into the logistics of his mage hand magic to Karlach, he approaches you. 

You look into the distance, beyond the point of where the Moonrise Tower's light can reach. When you turn to him, as if feeling his gaze, he feels a moment of déja vu. 

"I wanted to thank you,” he tells you.

You look confused, glancing out into the dark before coming back to him, and he realizes perhaps you think he's somehow grateful for releasing the prisoners. Not a strange notion, but certainly what would be a first for him, considering who they saved. "For what?"

"For what you said whilst we were in front of that vile drow,” Astarion continues, finding himself more impassioned than he previously thought. “You could have asked me to throw myself at the drow, my feelings be damned.” He pauses for a moment to gather himself. “But you didn't, and I'm grateful."

Your response comes easily to you as it did before. "Of course.” You tell him, “I wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to.”

Your words are gentle, but they leave him feeling exposed. It's as though his chest has been opened and now you bear witness to what he has kept hidden for so long. He is by no means fragile, but it does not mean he is unaffected by how vulnerable he feels in the face of your unconditional acceptance.

"I admit it's a novel concept. A little intimidating.” Astarion stops again, musing over his words and willing for his voice to stop shaking. You wait patiently for him until he confesses, “For two hundred years, I used my body to lure pretty things back to my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing-- it never mattered. It would have been easy enough, honestly, to just bite her. Face a little disgust and move on from it like I did before."

“Astarion,” you begin softly, and he feels his neck prickle with an emotion unfamiliar to him: embarrassment. You pause then, finding the words you want to say. “I want you to keep telling me how you feel about things. I need to know what you're okay with and what you're not because,” and it is your turn to look abashed, “I don't always know what you want. I'm not the most observant person, and I would hate it if I accidentally made you do something you didn't want to do.” You breathe. “So, thank you, for telling me.”

“It's rather odd to hear you thank me,” he admits, and he unfurls fists he hadn't realized he was holding. He leaves it unsaid, how difficult it has been to be truthful to himself and to you. He isn't sure if he can remain so in the worst of times, but he knows this at least: he will continue to try.

He thinks it is the first time he has been given the chance to.

You make a face he would have laughed at if he were not so relieved. “I've said thank you to you before.”

“That is not what I mean, dear,” he replies dryly, and when he hears footsteps approach, he knows this conversation has reached its end. (An expert, Astarion carefully sews himself closed, though he leaves a stitch untethered so perhaps next time it will not be so hard to undo. The thought of being seen becomes less frightening when he knows it will be you.)

“Gale and I might've found something you might want to check out,” Karlach says, pointing behind her. “Looks rather nasty and sort of important.”

“Man, can we ever separate the importance from how disgusting it ends up being?” You bemoan, walking up to Karlach and easily accepting the arm she puts around your shoulder. “How gross?” 

“Quite nasty, even to our standards,” Gale replies, grimacing. “I think that's saying quite a lot, considering our adventures so far.”

Astarion hears you mutter a small ‘ew’ under your breath and he huffs in laughter. “Well, as long as it involves blood and violence, I'm sure it won't be too terrible of an encounter,” he says. 

Entering the adjacent bowels of an illithid colony threatens that viewpoint, but the rest of them are too preoccupied with their own thoughts to call Astarion out for it. All in good time, he thinks as he brushes off the organic bits off his clothes without drawing attention to himself.

.

.

.

Shadowheart is beside herself when they enter the Gauntlet of Shar. As one of the only and largest places of worship of the dark goddess, it is impressive in its grandiosity and in how unwelcoming it makes itself to be with its dark corners and tall pillars. If Shadowheart finds rapture in the temple, Halsin and you find it unsettling with how cold it is, though you keep your opinions to yourself. 

For Astarion, he finds the temple rather homey; it is quiet and lonely, but it is still leagues better than the dreaded halls of Cazador's castle. When he tells the party just as much, he receives matching looks of incredulity. 

“Do you… happen to like tall ceilings, Astarion?” You ask, comically sincere about it. 

“Perhaps he sees the beauty in the silence,” Halsin offers. “It could be seen as…” He pauses. “Peaceful.”

Astarion sees Shadowheart turn her head a tad too late to hide her laughter. 

Peaceful is giving the Gauntlet too much credit. The silence of the temple is unsettling at best, abandoned by those who used to worship it. Abandoned, it makes for a lovely home for a devil– more specifically the orthon they are tasked to kill in order to fulfill Raphael's deal. 

Astarion could care less why Yurgur is here, but if the absence of living Dark Justiciars is of any indication, the orthon must have overstayed its welcome after the war. His ability to turn invisible is a tad irritating but he and his army are no match for them and their combined wit. You have quite the arm to throw his bombs back to him, and in the aftermath, there is nothing but dust. 

As though he were watching, Raphael appears to them soon after to uphold his end of the bargain. He seems a midge too satisfied to be revealing the truth about the devilish contract etched onto Astarion's back, but perhaps he is simply happy to have gotten rid of his enemy vicariously. Astarion pays no mind to the devil when he leaves, mind whirling with the implications of the truth. 

In short, it is overwhelming. (The feeling is quickly becoming familiar.) Two hundred years of questions finally answered. The reason for his pain all those nights ago, the horrors he has had to face all these years finally having meaning. It is a dreadful conclusion to result in, with more problems introduced than closure given. 

Astarion lets out a thoughtful hum, and the concern on your face would be funny if his thoughts weren't so preoccupied. "You okay?"

"It's a lot to take in." Astarion pauses, looking over to you as you wait patiently, though there is still a veneer of concern behind your eyes. He finds that in your patience, he realizes he is afraid–of what is to come, and what this revelation means for him. Another realization is the fact that he trusts you in full. It should scare him, the way he feels like he can turn to you for help, but it does not--not as much as it used to. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well," you begin placidly, "anything to do with devils and demons never ends well. And," you glance at him, "the sacrifice of all vampire spawn doesn't sound too good to me."

"There's only the seven of us," he says, though he knows one is already too many for you to leave dead. The thought both irritates and comforts him in equal measure, especially when you give him a practiced look of exasperation. "Though that does include me. Just when I was about to start enjoying life again."

"And about Cazador." You continue plainly, "I don't think you'll be free until he's dead."

His heart leaps, and then something settles. How quick you are to get to the heart of the problem, not that he will ever admit it to you. "I hate," he says, "how right you are. If I thought he'd stop at nothing to find me when I was just his plaything, he'd go to the ends of Faerûn to bring me back knowing this contract." He swallows inaudibly, preparing his next words. "We need to take the fight to him, but I can't do it alone."

"You won't be," you say so easily. It pulls at heartstrings he wasn't aware existed. "You'll have me."

"Yes, well." He clears his throat. "Let's not overestimate ourselves; the two of us will certainly not be enough to go against a true vampire lord. Though..." Astarion trails off, trying but failing to stave off from the warmth that courses through him. "For what it's worth, thank you." 

Your smile is beatific, and Astarion begins to think perhaps he doesn't deserve you. 

.

.

.

As the umbral gems are collected, it begins to feel like the beginning of the end for the shadows that lurk. Everyone can feel it; it is the way hard conversations are beginning to be had, all loose ends tying up before the coming of a new chapter. Astarion sees you speak to Gale about his so-called destined fate to die against the Absolute, to Arabella about her future beyond her parents’ death, and to Karlach about hard decisions and an ending that seems all too close to come. You are busy with all matters of import that Astarion has not had a moment's time with you for the past few days.

He loathes to admit it but he finds himself missing your company. A ridiculous notion, he is sure. It's not as if he has not seen you around camp or not exchanged words with you at all. If anything, you still proactively seek out opportunities to see him when you are free, but all attempts to find the time to spend with him end up taken by someone else. 

Astarion remembers once upon a time when he had barely cared to recognize the effort you put into spending time with him. Now, when he is bereft of your presence, he cannot stand the fact that everyone seems determined to thwart your every attempt.

He says as much to Karlach– though he may have complained more about your busy-body schedule than admit the fact he finds himself in want of you. Much to his dismay, Karlach is similar to you in the worst of ways, seeing through him easier than most. Though it may be due to her straightforward manner more than anything. 

“Aw, Astarion, if you miss them that much, you can try to see if you can talk to them when they’re free too. Ooh!” She exclaims in excitement, “Do you want me to distract everyone for a little while? So the two of you lovebirds can have a moment together?”

Astarion is quick to turn her down. It embarrasses him to a degree that he misses you. He doesn’t think he is quite ready to admit it to himself, let alone to other people. It feels… final, like a turning point that Astarion isn’t sure he can take– should take. Surely, he thinks, you find other people’s company more enjoyable? “No, that won’t be necessary, darling,” he says airily. “It is hardly that important to warrant that much effort from either of us.”

He thinks Karlach’s look is much too sympathetic for his liking, so he excuses himself to read the Book of Thay again. At least then he won’t have to listen to his own thoughts.

That being said… Astarion's gaze follows you when you flit back and forth in camp. The book lay in his hands, opened but nearly forgotten, and he starts to take Karlach's words into consideration. Surely, initiating conversation with you should not be that hard? He has propositioned you twice already with no qualms and yet he doesn't know what to say to get your attention when it is not of sexual nature. He has never cared to, never been able to if he wanted to– and now when he has the chance, he stands rooted to his spot, unable to do a thing when Wyll asks you to dance with him as though it is second nature. 

And of course you would accept– why wouldn't you? 

He may have grown out of prince charmings and fairytale endings, but you? There could not possibly be a better match for you than Wyll, who is the epitome of everything you could ever dream of. Handsome, righteous, selfless– Wyll is the hero of every storybook, and Astarion would not be surprised if the heavens decided to make you for each other. Wyll twirls you in his arms, leading you with a gentle hand that is befitting of your nature. And you laugh, light and joyous, the two of you looking at each other with bright eyes.

Astarion would never doubt the fun that the two of you have together. But he knows you would want more than that. You dream of true love and world peace, dressing up in all white and walking down the aisle to swear yourself to another person for life. You bleed love with your every touch, and he has never tasted love until you. 

He doesn’t know if he will ever be capable of loving you the way you deserve. (After all, what has he ever given you but lies and deceit?)

Astarion watches as you take a deep bow, laughing all the while as Wyll claps at your performance, and something inside him churns with an unfamiliar bitterness. Jealousy? Envy, perhaps. (Of who– maybe Wyll, maybe you, maybe both.)

But then you bid Wyll farewell and turn to him, and your face lights up as bright as moonglow. Astarion hates the way his heart trembles at the sight of you. 

“Hey, you,” you say to him warmly, and a part of him wants to be spiteful– for invoking uncomfortable emotions he does not know how to deal with. The other half is simply glad that he has you at last. 

Bad habits are hard to break though. “I see Wyll has made you his latest dance partner,” he says, unable to remove his scathing tone. You are more surprised than upset at his sudden animosity, which is a boon in itself. You look at him curiously though, with eyes that see into him too well for his sake, before you reply.

“For practice.” You say carefully, “For somebody else.” Before Astarion can inquire on who, you change the subject. “Do you know how to dance?”

“I know enough.” He clears his throat, continuing, “Dancing is an easy way to proverbially and literally whisk someone off their feet after all.”

Your eyes brighten at his words, and Astarion begins to think your earlier joy was not because you were dancing with Wyll but because you love to dance in general. “You want to teach me how to dance?” Your smile reaches your eyes, as it always does for him. “I bet you know how to ballroom dance. That sounds dreamy enough for you.”

“Without music? Hardly a dance,” he tells you, but when he sees you deflate, he is quick to say more. “When there is a proper setting, you can be the first to witness my skills personally.” He finds it inconvenient that his mood shifts with yours, because when your countenance lifts with hopeful anticipation from his words, he finds himself pleased to have caused it. “For now, I think my words will suffice in charming you just fine, don't you think, darling?”

“Confident you still have more lines to give me?” You ask teasingly, and Astarion is nothing if not a proud performer.

“Every time I heard the tieflings cry, I remember how you sounded crying for me,” he recites sultrily. “And now all these accolades from the Harpers are nothing compared to the sound of my name uttered from your lips.”

There is that familiar look of embarrassment and delight again. You laugh in response, leaning your head into his shoulders bashfully. “You're too much,” you tell him, your arm pressed against his. He relaxes at the warmth from your touch. 

Guilt, envy, jealousy: he yearns for you despite everything he cannot be. In the end, he is but a selfish man at his core, and whatever he wants he will take. Until the moment you choose someone else to love and to hold, he will simply count down the hours till the sound of midnight chimes. But he will not let you go until then– and not a moment later. (Though perhaps if there is a person he can learn to love, it is you.)

Astarion goes on, line after line, if only to keep you here with him. “If you don't remember how much you enjoyed it last time, I would like to try again.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and watches as your eyes darken in response, “Until you can think of nothing else.”

“I hope,” Shadowheart interrupts with mirth, “you know he practices these lines when you're not here.” 

Astarion sputters, and he narrows his eyes in mild annoyance when he sees Shadowheart pass by with a knowing smile. “Excuse me-”

“If you wanted your practice to be a secret, you might want to be quieter next time.” Shadowheart pauses. “Or perhaps not set your tent next to mine?”

“I don't know, Shadowheart,” he croons, “perhaps you might benefit from learning a thing or two from my charms.”

“Rather doubtful–”

Astarion hears you laugh long and hard as the two of them bicker. It is difficult to come up with retorts when he cannot help but be besotted at the sound of your joy. He hopes it is not obvious to everyone else.

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.

.

His worries seem all the more unimportant when they complete Shar's Trial. It turns out that the Nightsong is not a relic but an aasimar--Selûne's own daughter. Astarion already knows a fight lies in wait the moment Balthazar stops talking. After Balthazar swiftly joins the land of the dead, it is Shadowheart's faith that is put to trial. When she refuses to kill the aasimar, Astarion isn't sure he should be impressed she would deny her goddess or by how spectacularly her goddess lost her trust in the course of the journey. 

It's one of the reasons why he has never subscribed to the words of any god. What have the gods done for those who believed in them? Queen Vlaakith, who now swears to destroy Lae'zel despite her intrepid loyalty. Selûne, who could not save Ketheric's wife and daughter or her own child from a hundred years of captivity. Shar, who took advantage of the grief in Ketheric and innocence in Shadowheart for her own means. Mystra, who plucked Gale from a young age and cultivated him into a man who never felt like he was enough. 

There is simply no use relying on them for anything. For what can they offer to him now when none has answered him once in the past two hundred years? 

Astarion thinks you feel similarly. You could have easily been a cleric, a healer of the people blessed by the gods. But instead, you walk the path of the paladin, an oath created not in servitude to a higher being but to the weak and vulnerable. (Even then Astarion thinks that is too restricting for him, bound to do good by others no matter the situation. Believe him, he's already been on his best behavior by not pointing the sharp end of his dagger at anyone who tries to trifle with them.)

He once believed that your heart could know no evil, so being a paladin was easy. But he has grown to know you like the curve of his bow, and you are no saint. You become angry at others, yell and curse, and gods, you had the attitude to match him from the very beginning so he should have known even then. 

But perhaps it is because you are like anyone else that your ability to keep your oath shines far brighter than any devotion to a god. It is a part of you that no one can take away, and it is a concept that both amazes and discomfits Astarion in equal measure.

Even now at the top of Moonrise Towers, you still hold mercy in your heart for a man like Ketheric. Of course you would sympathize with a heart like his, twisted and mangled beyond repair because of love and grief. Astarion wonders how long Ketheric Thorm has gone without anyone trying to understand him? A hundred years at least, since the death of his wife and child, and here comes a wayward paladin and their party of four, giving him a chance for redemption. 

Astarion watches as Ketheric Thorm, the human he was, falls without a fight, and in his place, rises the undead chosen of Myrkul.

They've gone from fighting goblins to living machinery to literal shadows. To think those pales in comparison to the avatar of necromancy before them, all bones and scent of death. It would be so easy to be afraid, but then Astarion looks at you, lips moving in a silent prayer for courage, and he finds it less daunting to know that you can continue to move on despite your fear.

You are quick to dispatch the party: a group to free Dame Aylin from her shackles and another to start the fight against Myrkul. As Astarion sees Wyll, Shadowheart, and Jahiera teleport themselves closer to the aasimar, he knows quickly what team he's on. (“We work well together, you know,” he told you once after knocking down the goblin camp. He finds it somewhat comforting to know that statement is still true today.) 

“Ready?” You ask him, a scroll of dimensional door in your hands. 

“Darling,” he drawls, long bow in hand, “I thought you'd never ask.”

It ends up being a hard battle: cold, grasping hands of death from the unliving attack from all sides, the avatar of Myrkul summoning horrors beyond comprehension when they get close enough. And still, Astarion's hands remain steady as they aim deadly arrows toward a deity until it falls just like anybody else. 

“It's over,” he hears you breathe out, eyes wide as Ketheric falls to his knees for the very last time. It is a horrible sight to see a man in his last minutes, soul broken by grief and the gods that took advantage of that, and body broken by the aasimar he deceived in turn. Still, when your hand finds his in the aftermath of such horrors, he understands two things: he has never cared for someone like you before in his life, and all things must come to an end. 

It is only a matter of when. 

(And a third thing– Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs?)

.

.

.

They stay behind to help the Harpers rebuild the Last Light Inn. It's enough time to see where allegiances lie, who is to join them for the final act in Baldur's Gate, and to see the glimpse of the shadow-land curse ebbing away. Astarion doesn't know who, but someone suggests a celebration of victory as an ode to those who had fallen, and suddenly life is breathed into the land and its people. 

He's always loved a good party and he figures everybody feels the same. He can only hope the wine that's provided is even a smidgen better than the one in the druid grove. And he deserves a break– all of them do. Astarion watches as the Alfira and Lakrissa drag you away to some pre-celebratory hangout during the event's setup and cannot find it in himself to be anything but amused. 

As it turns out, in between the cobwebbed walls and doom-and-gloom, Moonrise Towers has plenty to offer for the celebration. The leftover rations– whatever is still good after the battle anyways– serve as the basis of a banquet. The old and dusty black and white robes and attires of the Selûnites that once occupied this place are still in good condition, if you discount the mothballs and eaten up bits. 

It makes for a nice change in pace for many at least, though Astarion thinks he'd rather wear something with embroidery than don a goddess’ servants outfit no matter how nice it is. It is a good thing Shadowheart is not quite Sharran or else there would be quite an upset. She is more preoccupied by her conversation with Dame Aylin than with the festivity preparations, but he knows she will join in due time if you have anything to say about it.

In the quiet bustle before the banquet, people flit back and forth, busy. Whether they are preparing the necessary things for the celebration, healing the wounded, making the burial grounds, or getting drunk ahead of the game, there is something to do. Astarion finds himself in the last category nursing a cup of wine and watching the processions, His Majesty curled up at his feet. 

The last person he expects to make time to speak with him is Wyll.

“Care for some company?” Wyll asks with a smile.

Astarion shrugs, hiding his surprise behind his nonchalance. “I suppose the wine can be shared.”

Wyll nods. “Much thanks,” he says, allowing Astarion to pour him half a glass before taking a cursory sip. Astarion follows after him, though he watches Wyll carefully in the corner of his eyes. 

“I've hunted demons,” Wyll begins, “orthons, devils, and monsters. When I met our leader, I never expected to eventually fight against a God. Did you?”

Astarion lets out an airy laugh. “Knowing who we're following, I can't say I'm too surprised.” He waves his hand flippantly before crossing his arms. “Goes to show even Gods can fall… and that paladins seek nothing but trouble.”

Wyll laughs at that, and Astarion tries to not make it seem like he's almost dropped the glass. “Makes you hopeful, doesn't it?” Wyll tells him, “That there's nothing that cannot be done at their side?”

And there it is, Astarion thinks wryly. Their single point of similarity lies in their affections for you. He was wondering why the righteous Blade of Frontiers was making conversation. But still, with the jealousy that swirls low in the pit of his stomach, he thinks of you and the miracles you have created from seemingly nothing and warmth spreads and overtakes any and all bitterness.

“Astarion,” Wyll starts, faltering for the first time. Astarion barely has enough time to turn to him when he continues to greater incredulity. “I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you.”

What? Astarion stares at him for a moment before he realizes he's taking a moment too long. Being snarky comes like second nature. “Let me guess,” he drawls, “you thought I'd sucked blood, but instead I just suck. Was that your witty jab?”

“No! I mean it,” Wyll says. He is sincere as he always is, and Astarion wants to sneer at it, if only he wasn't reminded of you. (He's grown used to people saying what they mean, and part of him is scared of it.) “There's little between us we share, but you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. This is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.” 

Wyll means you, he realizes. You and him: lovers. It seems to become less of a lie with each coming day if Karlach and now Wyll seem to see right through him. “I– thank you,” Astarion replies, bewildered, “I suppose.” 

“Pay it no mind,” Wyll tells him, clinking his glass to his. “After all the fighting we've done, it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want to leave things unsaid nor undone.”

Astarion snorts into his glass; hardly a charming gesture but he finds it easier to be less than such these days. “See, that's where you and I can agree on!” He says slyly, “Is that where all your night time dancing practices have been for? To woo your love at the first chance you get?”

Wyll coughs into his hand, and Astarion watches in glee as he grows embarrassed. “I hope you haven't seen me in the earlier nights; I was quite horrendous.” He sighs. “I can only pray that no one else has noticed besides you and our leader… I was hoping to keep it a secret until later.”

“Knowing our camp, it was never a secret to begin with,” Astarion says dryly.

“I just…” Wyll continues almost wistfully, “I want to give her something to look forward to. She deserves the world after everything she's been through– let alone a dance to truly and well whisk her away.”

Astarion can see the lovestruck gleam in Wyll's eyes as he talks, and he recognizes that look not when he looks at you but instead… “Karlach?” He asks, watching as the mighty Blade of Frontiers fidgets in place, “So you've been practicing your dances for Karlach?” His smile widens not unlike a cat who has captured a canary, both from the fact he has nothing to fear from Wyll and from the way he now has the ammunition to tease the man. So this is what it means to kill two kobolds with one stone. “I hope you haven't been practicing other things without her too.”

“Astarion, please.”

It's moments like these when Wyll is trying to sink into the floor from mortification that he is reminded how young the warlock is. He never imagined talking about love with him of all things, but here they are– it surely isn't the strangest situation he's been through. “I'm sure Karlach would be happy to have you ask her to dance, skills be damned.”

“I'm sure,” Wyll says warmly, “but I want to give her only the best, if I can.”

And if that wasn't another sentiment Astarion has grown familiar with.

Before guilt can sink his mood, Astarion clears his throat. “You wouldn't happen to have a few dancing lessons in store for your fellow companion, would you, darling?”

Wyll is kind enough to not say anything to his question, though the knowing looks he gives Astarion throughout his guidance is reminiscent of Karlach that he escapes as soon as he is able. With the party soon underway, more people come into the main floor with fresh attire. Alcohol is poured and music is played with Alfira leading the fray. Lakrissa, never far from her lady bard, meets his gaze and nods her head upward. 

“Upstairs,” Lakrissa tells him with a wide smile. “They're doing some finishing touches. I'm sure they won't mind if you get them.”

There is that damned knowing look again, he thinks, walking up the stairs. He pauses for a moment halfway up, gazing at the party quickly underway and at the people he has met thus far. He spots Dammon and Karlach talking near the door, Wyll across the room building his courage to ask her to dance. Shadowheart and Lae'zel sit at the bar drinking in surprising camaraderie next to Rolan and his siblings, still ribbing him in usual manner. Harpers are scattered in the room, Jaheira to the side watching on after having said her goodbyes prior; she will be joining their party to Baldur's Gate, after all. 

Halsin was preoccupied with Thaniel so he may or may not be joining them later on, though Astarion doubts he would disappoint you by not showing up. Not seeing Gale in the midst if the celebration is strange, considering how much more eager he is to converse with others. Astarion's pondering answers itself when he sees Gale exit your room.

“Ah, there you are,” Gale greets him cheerily. “They're about done with their preparations– they thought they'd ask me for my opinions on their appearance. And despite my admitted inexperience in the matter, I hope I did my due diligence in reassuring them they looked fine. The rest is up to you, I'm afraid.” He puts a hand on Astarion's shoulder and squeezes lightly, and the look in his eyes grows somber for just a moment. “Treat them well.”

If he had a heart still, it would pang with guilt. “Don't I always?” Astarion says airily, and Gale gives him another pat and a wide smile.

“That you do, my friend,” Gale says warmly. “I am ever glad to see my two good companions happy together. Best wishes to you both.”

Gale leaves him and Astarion stands outside your door, unsure what he is waiting for. He peeks inside, watching as you tinker with your jewelry in the mirror. In the reflection he sees you in all your glory. You are beautiful as ever in your evening attire, simultaneously dashing in your knightly way as you are beautiful and warm and real. You notice him in the mirror and turn to smile at him, and guilt settles into him like lead.

You deserve more, he thinks with finality, and Astarion knows then he can no longer delay the inevitable, despite himself. You must know the truth about his intentions for you, even if it pushes you away from him and renders your protection for him. You deserve nothing less but his honesty. He only wishes he were not so cowardly as to have done it sooner, if only to not ruin the rest of your night. 

(But the truth is, Astarion has a little hope that you will still love him despite it all– because he thinks he wants something real with you too.) 

“There you are,” you say warmly, walking up to him. “Are you ready to dance?” You take his hand in yours, and he holds onto you for dear life. 

"I was waiting for you,” he tells you weakly. He squeezes your hand as if asking for strength. “Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

Lovely as you are, you are nothing but concerned for him. "Yeah, sure! Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine,” he tells you automatically. Deflection comes easily for him. “I just-- feel awful."

Your sympathy is almost too much to bear that Astarion musters up the will to push forward before your compassion weakens his resolve. He must confess now or he never will. He swallows painfully.

"Look, I had a plan,” he begins to explain, “a nice simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me." He lets out a shaky laugh– entirely inappropriate and unreflective of his feelings, but what else is he to do? Does he even deserve to show you how much turmoil he has gone through to reach this point in telling you? 

"It was easy,” he continues, trying to ignore the way his chest twists painfully when he sees you flinch, hurt. “Instinctive.” He lets your hand fall from his as he gesticulates, weaving his story dramatically in the only way he knows how lest he feel too much. Your arms draw themselves in as if to brace yourself for a blow, and all Astarion can think is that he must– he must continue on for better or worse. He cannot bear doing this a second time. 

“Habits from 200 years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it,” he tells you. Astarion feels his voice shake. “And all I had to do was not fall for you. That was where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

He sees a flicker of something in your eyes as he finishes. He can't quite place what it is– he can hardly begin to process how he's feeling at the moment. But the truth is finally out in the open, and the tension in his body is pulled taut like a bow string as he waits for your response. He wants so desperately to make excuses, to go on about anything that would salvage his relationship with you, but he won't. You have been patient with him time and time again, and it is only fair for him to do the same.

No one ever told him how hard it would be though. To wait. You stand only a foot away from him and yet the distance between the two of you feels vast.

"...So,” you begin quietly, “did the nights we spend together... did they mean anything then?"

You're ridiculous, he thinks, almost laughing in fond incredulity. He half expected you to storm out of the room, demanding he never speak to you again. The fact you are still talking it through with him is more than he could ever ask for. "Of course it did,” Astarion tells you fervently. “That's the problem. Or part of it. You–” His voice catches with emotion. “You're incredible. You deserve something real.” 

He watches as you blink in rapid succession, willing the tears that come easily to you away. Astarion thinks about the way you yearn for simple touches, sweet romances, and true love. And even if he does not yet know how to love you the way you want, he knows this: “I want us to be something real."

Astarion reaches his hands out to meet yours before he realizes it is happening. The utter relief he feels when you close the distance (so small yet so far) between the two of you is insurmountable. He thinks you can feel the way his hands shake when you hold onto them. Or is that you? He thinks, savoring the warmth seeping into his skin. No matter– nothing else matters but the way you are still here with him now.

"So do I,” you say wetly. “More than anything."

Astarion knows better than to look into a gift horse's mouth, but it is in his nature to question when good things happen to him. His question comes out quietly, disbelieving, "Really?" 

And he can see your expression soften-- not of pity or sympathy-- just affection as you huff good naturedly, as though he were just absolutely silly for doubting you. "Yes, of course," you say, cupping his face just as gently before you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. 

You are warm in his arms with the sweet scent of lilac. 

When was the last time he has been held like this, he wonders. Without precontext for sex or expectations for something more. Like when he was helpless but to see you preoccupied with others, it is in times like these Astarion realizes he is inexperienced when it comes to affection in its purest form. It makes him… lost in a way, to know what he does not know. 

[Can he tell, you wonder, that you've been wanting to hold him like this from the very beginning? To make him feel safe. To let him know he has nothing to worry about, at least when it comes to you. You hold him tightly, and if love could be poured out from you to another, you would have it spill over and more.]

But you don't seem to care. You never have. Giving little bits of affection to him wherever he can accept it without expecting anything given back. He wants to learn how to be with you starting now.

Moving his arms around you to embrace you is unfamiliar, but his hands find purchase on your back, palms flat and firm. Your heart against his chest beats steadily, and Astarion finds that he doesn't want this moment to end. He feels vulnerable in a way he has not felt in a long time, if ever. Everything seems easier to say to you, now that you accept him, flawed as he is. 

"I just,” he begins quietly, “don't know what real looks like, not after two hundred years of playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him.” 

He feels you pull away, but only for a moment before you are holding his hands gently. He continues, “Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels tainted.” He feels his mouth twist at the word, and he looks down, shame burning his tongue despite himself. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.”

“I don't know how else to be with someone,” he confesses, “no matter how much I'd like to.”

Silence fills the space the two of you take up. It would feel suffocating if not for the way you rub his hands with your thumbs, grounding him to this moment. It feels so easy to just run away, but he stands with you until you find the words to speak. You tell him finally, “You are important to me no matter what you're going through.” His breath catches. “And if that sort of intimacy makes you feel uncomfortable, we can be together without sleeping together for as long as you need.”

You are firm with your words, and Astarion blinks away wetness in his eyes and tries to reach for levity as he always does. “Why, that almost sounds like a challenge,” he says, and when you do a little laugh, he feels lighter. 

The two of you are by no means a perfect union. Far from it: who would ever imagine a vampire rogue and a devoted paladin to be a match for each other? And yet, you want to make the two of you work. He wants it to work, whatever it is they are. Rather than fear or apprehension, he finds himself in anticipation for an unknown destination with you by his side. 

(It feels a little bit like death, in a good way. To imagine this is how people feel all the time– excited and terrified all at once; how do they all do it?)

Astarion lets out a laugh of his own. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next,” he says. He raises his hands where they are connected to you. "But I know that this? This is nice."

Your smile is wobbly with emotion, and your eyes shining with an affection that Astarion has grown familiar with. "Dance with me?”

Astarion responds by taking one of your hands and placing a kiss at your knuckle. The smile he receives from you is daylight and he basks in its presence. “Shall I take the lead this time, darling?”

“Only just this once,” you tease, and he is almost giddy at the banter. Oh, how quickly the two of you begin anew, as if no hurt has been done. Eyes wet with emotion now dry and upturned from mirth as Astarion dramatically presents your hand, walking down the stairs to join in the banquet.

How ridiculous mankind is, for celebrating while their fate looms over the horizon at Baldur's Gate. How incredulous people are for still holding onto hope even when hope seems all but lost. Astarion still thinks it unwise to trust others in a world where only the strongest survive, but perhaps he has changed just a bit if he thinks it is not quite so impossible to believe in it himself. 

He is not healed– and he feels he will not be for some time, not as long as Cazador still lives. But much like the shadow-cursed land, he feels as though he is healing. At your side, with his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours to twirl you on a wooden dance floor as you laugh until you are breathless– he can finally try.

And perhaps that is all that matters.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(Sleeping beneath the stars, a night before reaching Baldur's Gate, Astarion thinks about how you have given him precious, impossible moments of comfort. He had only expected to have a few more before an untimely death but after time and time again, the two of you live. 

But just how long will that luck last? 

With Cazador, the two avatars of death, and the elder brain looming over their fates, Astarion feels a fear unlike what he has ever faced, for he has far more to lose than just himself now. It suffocates him. Because he is not good enough- not strong enough. Not for you, not for Cazador, nor for the gods that never answered him. 

Unless…

If he takes Cazador's power for his own, if he can ascend and become a creature far beyond a true vampire… he can finally keep the two of you safe– for good. From all the evils of the world, from the Cazadors, from whoever dares to threaten the two of you.

Whoever must be sacrificed to make it happen be damned. Astarion will be selfish enough for the two of you. 

A part of him wonders if you will still love him then.)

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #thank god i split act ii into 2 parts

[path777]

blessing and a curse: #DEAN_SWEEP + s1 dean winchester covered in blood (not his) + an unexplained fuck or die curse. i love the world

-

it was alarming to see dean pull into the parking lot of the motel like a maniac, the impala nearly scratching the next car over as he swerves and parks head-in. something was very wrong - even in the most urgent of emergencies you’ve never seen him treat that car this way. before you knew it he was kicking the door open, hand encircling your wrist tightly.

“dean, what-“ you start, noting the unruly state of his hair- even more than usual- the blood on his face and hands, and a panicked and fussy demeanor that was unlike the dean you knew. “are you hurt? should i-“

at that moment, dean makes a noise that the people in the rooms next to yours definitely heard. it didn’t even seem possible that it came from the man in front of you, a pained but nevertheless obscene moan, his eyes shut tightly as he clutches onto you. it’s then that you notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans, stretching the fabric there tightly. dean looks flushed, pupils dilated and lips parted. he doesn’t quite look embarrassed, just- in a state of unabashed arousal. heat shoots up your spine and your pussy starts to pulse palpably- both of which you ignore.

“listen to me carefully,” dean swallows. his voice is more gravelly than usual, almost hoarse, and laced with desperation. “i’ve been cursed. i’ve been cursed, and-“ he rubs his hand over his mouth, “and i need to fuck you. now.”

“what?” the curse part of it registers, of course it does, but at that moment the gravity of the situation escapes you - you feel hot, you’re in a tank top and sleep shorts but it’s suddenly really, really warm in the room, with dean crowding all up on you and his proposition- no, plea- lingering in the air. is a person supposed to smell this good covered in blood and dirt? and has his neck always looked like that? like- impossibly thick and- inviting?

his grip on your wrist tightens. “are you- are you okay with that, or- i mean, if i don’t come inside someone in, like, 20 minutes, i’m going to die, but you know i-“ he groans, low and guttural, “i don’t-“

“how do you want me,” you say in lieu of an answer, with maybe more conviction than necessary. dean’s eyes are shut tight, and he’s breathing heavily. “dean. how do you-“ but before you can even finish, he’s lifting the hand that he was holding, pinning it above your head against the door. and god, he’s so close to you, and the sweat- it’s so intense and overwhelming, like an aphrodisiac rising from his body, the smell of him enveloping you from all sides.

“is that a yes?” dean says, body pressed flush against yours now. you feel so heady, and his weight on you, hot and heavy, feels crushingly good- “i need a yes. please. please.” he’s looking right into your eyes, the tips of your noses nearly touching. but though he’s asking, you can feel his hips moving- twitching, almost, like it’s out of his control.

a beat passes and his hips jerk upwards, dragging his cock against your thigh. dean moans, though he stops himself almost immediately, biting down on his lip hard enough that you think it might start bleeding. “fuck- i’m sorry, it’s-“

“dean, stop- yes. god, yes- please,” you interrupt him to answer, tugging at the waist of his jeans with your free hand. he lets go of you briefly to unbuckle his belt. you couldn’t help but stare at his underwear then, at the wet spot on the front of it and the string of something sticky connecting the fabric and tip of his cock as he pulled the garment off.

you feel his cock between your thighs, the head of it so wet that he isn’t worried about chafing. it ruins your shorts, now sticky with dean’s precome, and he buries his face in your neck mouth open- tongue laving over your scent and sweat. he licks his lips- he seems more like himself now.

“should i- um, finger myself, or-“ you start, voice too breathless for your liking. next thing you know, after all this, he’s gonna accuse you of falling in love with him.

“i don’t have any lube- is that-“ he stops abruptly as his hand reaches into your underwear. his fingers swipe over your pussy- soaking through the fabric- and a self-satisfied look washes over his face, “i mean, obviously.” you almost roll your eyes but his lips are crashing against yours for the first time- you’re so painfully aware of everything about it; you want to brand this memory into your mind- the feeling of those lips, that impeccable cupid’s bow, perfect, full, pink, plush-

his lips are parted now, tongue darting into your mouth wickedly, and how he’s managing to do that in a situation like this is beyond you.

then your panties are at your ankles and there’s two fingers in you, thick and skilled- it draws a gasped whine out of you, the sudden stretch of him inside, twisting and curling at all the right spots.

“that’s it, sweetheart, come on- loosen up for me,” he says, almost under his breath. you can feel his impatience, rightfully there. but somehow he doesn’t feel rushed- just desperate, a little sloppy, and maybe even needy. “you’re so fucking wet.”

“dean,” you whimper, squirming under his touch. “dean, just fuck me, come on-“ it’s too soon and you know it, but the begging escapes you anyway- you feel white-hot, and the sensation of his fingers inside you are somehow electrifying, reverberating through your whole body. it’s something about his desperation, the fact that he needs you, needs his cock inside of your cunt-

“this whole thing is bad enough for you, i don’t want to hurt y-“

“and if i want you to?”

his lips quirk up, the first thing closest to a smile you’ve seen since he kicked open that door. “is that how it is?” his fingers start to move faster, your slick by now surely dripping down from the tips of his fingers if the lewd, wet sounds of squelching are anything to go by. “didn’t know that about you.”

you bristle. “there’re lots of things-“

“-i don’t know about you. yeah, alright, princess,” dean finishes for you. “let’s focus on me, now, yeah?”

but you can’t even let that simmer in infuriation because he immediately adds another finger, making it three digits that are readying your cunt for his cock, that are brushing the spot inside you that make your toes curl. it’s not long before dean decides that’s all you were gonna get - he has a deadline to meet, after all.

he pulls his digits out of you, coated in slick. he licks at it a little, just a dart of the tip of his tongue on his skin. god, the cheek, it’s just unbelievable- dean grins, lines his cock up, and-

he bottoms out in one thrust, the stretch hurting for a split second before it dissolves into a tautness in your cunt from being stretched too wide, too fast. you gasp, fingers splayed on the back of his neck. “dean, dean-“ you whimper, “that’s- oh- slow down, slow-“ he’s relentless; after the first thrust in, he sets an impossible rhythm and it’s driving you crazy. the noises falling from your lips are constant, an endless stream of moans and whines, begging for him to have mercy, or perhaps to make you come already.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he sounds wrecked now, “fuck.” and he keeps pounding into you fast, like he’s trying to go even deeper with every single thrust. the grip he has on your waist is bruising, the pain adding to the pleasure of his cock.

“this is,” dean pants, “such a bad time to have incredible stamina.” oh, this is so not the time.

“dean fucking winchester, i’m going to-“

“oh yeah, that’s it, talk dirty to me-“ but this only goads you,

“-put a gag in your fucking mouth!“ your voices overlap and you’re both breathing so heavily; you feel his hips stutter ever so slightly at your words, before he shuts his mouth and returns to his original rhythm.

“oh, you fucking freak,” you whisper, “you wanna be gagged? can’t ever shut your goddamn trap so you need a bit to drool around, isn’t that right?”

dean falters then, but he’s red, so red, so you take it as a good sign. “next time, princess.” you say scathingly, teasingly- the same way he said it to you just earlier. “next time, i’ll shove my panties in that hole of yours, how’s that sound?”

those green eyes are burning into yours, with equal parts desire and anger. he opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again. his mouth opens again, but-

“fuck, dean- you’re bleeding,” you reach your hand up to his face, thumb brushing gently under his nose, smearing his blood over your fingertip.

dean lifts his finger to his philtrum. he stares at the blood for a beat, and that intense look that was in his eye dissipates. “are you on the pill?” he asks you suddenly. it beings you back to reality a little.

“right, you- right.” you swallow. “yeah, it’s fine.” he nods.

“just so you know… i’d like that.” dean looks away, his hips picking up speed again. “or. i’m not opposed to it. i guess.”

oh, this is just precious. “sorry, i’m not following. is this still about the- the gagging, with my-“

“shut up,” he hisses, licking his top lip clean where a drop of blood had reached from his nose.

“ask for it properly,” you say, breathless- because after all, he’s still the one driving into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow - literally. “use your words, dean.”

dean groans. “i- i-“ his thrusts are irregular now, chasing his high, “want you to gag me, shut me up-“ his noises aren’t stopping, now, either, driving you both to the crest. “i’m close, i’m close- fuck-! want- in my mouth-“ he says brokenly, still unable to get all the words out.

“they’re gonna get wet with your spit, dean, and then i’m gonna make you wear them-“ and dean comes right then with a cry, pressing hard up against your ass, cock spurting hot inside of you. your cunt squeezes around him, spasming as you come down from the high.

his face is buried in your neck again, but you don’t need to see his face to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

you both start at the same time,

“at least you’re not dead.” “not. a. word.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x reader smut #supernatural x reader #god ive always wanted to describe dean winchester as sloppy needy and desperate #always <- like a couple of days #please dont take this too seriously wahoo

[light-purp-insect]

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, and Zevlor with oblivious gn crush?

Head In The Clouds

([all separate] Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, Zevlor x GN unspecified Tav)

Banner credits in alt!

Notes/warnings: both SFW and Mature (no exact NSFW, marked for safety), flirting, failed seduction (Haarlep being an Incubus), somewhat manipulative(? Maybe???) behavior, suggestive themes, confused characters, dancing, self questioning/self doubt, extremely short mention of canonical death, close proximity/touching/hugging, obviously mentions of spider anatomy, Kar'niss is deranged and I don't know how to emphasize that, library dates (but Tav doesn't know that), mentions of the Infernal language in DnD, reading together, Zevlor tries to teach you a new language, not-a-real-date turns into a real date

I swear, the vast majority of BG3 fans see a pair of horns and their eyes nearly pop out of their skull. Me too!! Also I decided to make these short scenes, just as a treat for myself really.

-- Raphael --

Oh dear, he wasn't expecting this. Here he was, in his full cambion form, in the middle of the House of Hope, teaching you how to ballroom dance, and you weren't aware he had some feelings for you? How foolish could you get, little mouse? Yes, he fully was planning on taking your soul before he warmed up to you this past two days after letting you see his marvelous self, but now he couldn't be so certain. You were smiling as if you were still merely friends- no, only acquaintances! He wouldn't show the dissatisfaction his face, not even when you nearly stepped on his tail while trying to teach you the Viennese Waltz. Of course he had been holding you even closer than what the dance had called for, but that was his mistake, and he'd rather be bathed in holy water than blame you for it. "That's it, little mouse, very good." The demon whispered low in your ear. "How about we try a Foxtrot next, hmm?"

-- Haarlep --

If he was honest, now that you had warmed to him, something deep in the pit of his soul felt like perhaps it wasn't worth just sleeping with you once. Did he hate this new emotion? Oh absolutely, there's not a moment where he doesn't know how to react. He wasn't exactly used to actually loving someone-- were Incubi really, truly capable of love? Whatever, Raphael wasn't home, and it was the perfect opportunity to get you in his master's bed for an evening. Hopefully that would remove this-... Whatever this is. When the massive demon placed his hands on your waist and pressed your back against his near bare chest he purred out the honeyed tone he was so well known for. "Such an exquisite little mouse, you'd be a favorable meal. Come to bed with me, won't you?" Except that didn't happen. You had turned your head to him to answer, not a single hint of voluptuous desire in your eyes. "Now that I think of it, I could use a moment to lie down. Would you like to nap then?" Quite obviously he didn't expect that in the slightest. Much like his master, he didn't show much in his expression. Only a beat of silence before a rather content reply. "... Yes, a nap would actually be quite delightful about now."

-- Kar'niss --

The poor drider was quite upset, how come his chosen beloved didn't see how much he adored them and everything they ever touched? Was it because he was unsightly? Was it because he was cursed with his semi-chitinous body? In reality, it was probably because you just thought he was thankful you saved him from his demise, which he was! But even now as he hunkered down to hold you close to his chest, even using his pedipalps to keep you close. "Please, my savior, I need you!" Unlike the other times he grabbed on to you, this one felt proper; he was being gentle. His chin rest upon your head as a low growl softly reverberated in his throat. The bitter smell of old moss hit your nose like a freight train, but he didn't let go or tighten his grip. "Bless me with your warmth, just for a moment." You couldn't hear his next words, only mumbling as he was slowly losing the ability to hold himself together. "Please, one day you will love me too. Silly bug, one day I'll have you in my web, just you wait."

-- Zevlor --

While this wasn't a date in your eyes, and since he didn't tell you that it could be considered one either, Zevlor was slightly anxious. Who wouldn't, though? He brought you to a rather nice library, and he was worried how you would even consider going on something like a date with him. Then again you were sitting in his lap as he was trying to teach you some Infernal writing. The book laid in your lap as his arms came in front of you to point out the rather intricate looking letters. "That right there says 'Charming', I know the look a little close together." He placed his hand over yours and helped you point to the word, helping you pick out all eight letters of the word. "Does that mean the word I just read a moment ago spelt 'charred'?" You ask with humor in your voice. You could hear Zevlor give a delighted huff behind you, trying not to breathe on your neck. "That is correct." He slowly moves his hand away from yours. The tingle of your skin still lingered on his palm. "I think we might be reading a cookbook. I think this is... Beef Wellington? Would you like to make it together some time?" Hope was evident in his tone, but you couldn't tell if it was from the prospect of spending time together of making something for dinner.

#Av writes for once #zevlor baldur's gate 3 #zevlor x reader #zevlor x tav #zevlor bg3 #zevlor #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep #haarlep bg3 #haarlep baldur's gate 3 #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #karniss #kar'niss #karniss bg3 #Karniss Baldur's Gate 3 #kar'niss bg3 #Kar'niss Baldur's Gate 3 #karniss x tav #Karniss x reader #kar'niss x tav #Kar'niss x reader

[sunlightmurdock]

Horniness never sleeps 🫡

I want Firefighter Rooster to fuck my face after a stressful shift.

** extremely loud sounds of me falling down the stairs ** … I may have subconsciously somehow sent this to myself because we are BEYOND being on the same page about this and it just makes me giggle bc like…

This is the same guy who’s pulling puppies out of storm drains and handing them back to little girls with a huge grin on his face, the same guy who’s helping old ladies cross the road and talking to old veterans at the bar for hours, the same guy who’ll always always always answer any kid’s question about his job with a big smile and a professional attitude.

He’s exactly the kind of guy that your parents would probably want you to bring home, when you want him to be.

But, he’s also the guy who comes home and presses all of his weight into your back, arms draped loosely around you, mumbling something into your ear along the lines of, “Feel like helping me out a little, baby girl?”

You’ll tease him, giving him a bright-eyed smile and asking him what with, like you don’t already know what’s poking you in the back. He would take your no on the chin and leave it at that, if that was your answer.

Today, it isn’t. Bradley loves his job — adores it in fact. He loves his team, he loves what he does and he likes feeling like he’s doing something worthwhile. But, his boss can be a real ball buster sometimes and that was exactly the issue today.

Just bullshit work for bullshit reasons, and it’s got Bradley wound tighter than normal. Even as you’re unbuckling his belt, you can still feel that he isn’t quite as relaxed as you’d like him to be. So, you’ve got two options.

You could take him to bed, make him close his eyes and suck his dick, real slow — really let him unwind and calm down a little bit. That’s always fun. Today, you decide to do the opposite — with someone as kind as he is, he doesn’t express that temper of his often.

Dropping to your knees on the kitchen tile, the faint ache there is something to deal with later. He exhales softly as you take him into your mouth, just like normal, your lips wrapped around him, just sucking on his flushed tip like a lollipop.

“That’s nice,” He hums, resting his hand on the kitchen counter behind your head. “Feels good.”

nd you just look up at him, all sweet and everything, and just take his free hand and knot it safely into your hair, then push just slightly. His lips quirking, he catches on quickly, tightening his grip on your roots and pushing himself experimentally deeper into your mouth.

Lips parted, his cheeks flushed a pretty terracotta colour, he holds you there with his dick grazing the back of your throat until tears are brimming in your eyes, then he pulls back at lets you breathe.

“Just squeeze my leg if you’re done, yeah?” He breathes out, eyes darkened with lust as he taps the tip of his cock on your glistening lips. You nod eagerly, flicking your tongue teasingly over the underside of his tip before you take him into your mouth again.

Swallowing, he cups the back of your head in his hands and rocks his hips slowly forwards, breathing out slowly through his nose as he watches his cock fill your mouth. Again and again, building up pace, feeling your throat squeeze at his tip with each thrust.

Tears spilling out onto your cheeks as you moan around him, spit soaking your chin and his thighs. He grunts deeply, screwing his eyes shut and knitting his fingers tighter into your hair as your warm mouth draws him closer and closer.

So focused on him, the sounds that he’s making and the heavy feeling of him on your tongue— it’s bliss, you can’t even feel the cold tile, uncomfortable under your knees. Just him.

#firefighter!bradley #bradley bradshaw #thots night (: #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut