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emissaire · 1 month

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is it hot in here? - jjk men x reader (part i)

based off of these headcanons i wrote almost 3 years ago lmao

warnings/tags: crack, fluff, mature language, housemates! geto, gojo, nanami, choso & sukuna, neighbor! toji, implied reverse harem, mature language, mushy nicknames given to the reader because i absolutely refuse to use “y/n” lmao, a slight slice of life ig, half of em have beef w/ little megumi, nanami is the only normal person in the house, talks abt food // wc: 3.5k // lmk if i missed anything!

It's hard being a college student, barely thriving in an environment filled with stressful deadlines you need to meet, sleepless nights just to maintain your GPA, things that need to be done each week and to top it all off, working as a bookstore clerk in your free time to help shoulder a bit of your student loans and everyday expenses. To say it simply, life is hectic. The odds seemed to be stacked against you as things appear to be getting even worse when you received an eviction notice from your landlord, giving you just a week to find a new place to stay.

On day five, you were fortunate enough to find an affordable and decent place that is a 20-minute drive away from your university. Though you find it a little suspicious since the rent is fairly cheap and it isn’t exactly an apartment complex but a house shared by five other people, you decided, screw it. You're desperate, certainly you don't want to be homeless? Besides, the place is neat and plenty huge. What's there to complain about?

Thursday morning, after a few back-and-forth texts with your manager at the book shop, begging him to let you off, you managed to haul most of your things to your new place with the help of your ever-gracious friend, Aoi. By the time you manage to get all of your things in your designated room, the other occupants are still nowhere in sight. You feel somehow comforted by that fact, still bothered by feeling like an intruder.

Weariness slowly seeps into your bones and without much fight, you let sleep consume you, laying down on the barely set-up bed in the middle of your disorganized space without any heed to the mess of boxes littered on the floor and the wide opened door of your bedroom.

It's eerily quiet. Kento notes as he pushes the front door open with a sturdy hand, Choso and Suguru in tow. They're all exhausted from the chaotic buzz of the outside world, their shoulders finally loosening in relaxation at the familiar interior of their shared home.

"Oh— our new housemate should be here by now, correct?" Suguru breaks the silence, eyeing the place in search of a new face although he's only met by empty and unknowing stares. There is no sound of boxes being moved around, not even thuds of feet against the floorboards to indicate someone’s presence in the house aside from theirs.

"Maybe they postponed the move?" Choso offers, barely caring about his friend's concern as he struts to his own room so he can finally rest. Though his footsteps halt as soon as his eyes catch the sight of the supposed empty room— oh, someone's here.

"In here." He calls to the other two and within seconds, three pairs of eyes are prying into your room, one judgingly and two out of amusement.

"It's a girl." Kento speaks, eyes sweeping the entire space with both concern and a hint of astonishment at the cluttered boxes. How can she sleep with all that mess?

"Indeed." Suguru's face is embellished with a smile that he fails to contain. Choso could only elbow him in a scolding manner. The former, seemingly taking after a certain white-haired man's antics, dramatically howls and falls forward, slumping against his blond friend's back while he clutches his side.

"Get off!" Kento chides, shrugging the other male off of him.

You have always been a light sleeper, even the tiniest sound could wake you up from a good slumber. It's no wonder you're getting roused out of sleep by the ruckus made by the three individuals standing just outside of your bedroom door. It takes you a minute to realize though, blinking at them in confusion before scrambling up to your feet to greet them in your haze.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry for the mess! I'm the new tenant, it's so nice to meet you guys, finally!" You bow your head a bit in greeting, flashing the three a sheepish smile.

"It's no problem. You've only arrived, the mess is inevitable." The long-haired man says kindly, his eyes crinkled as he offers you a charming smile. "I'm Suguru, by the way. This is Kento," he gestures to the blond man who is already looking at you, a small yet amiable smile on his face too, "and Choso." Said man makes a saluting gesture to greet you.

You quickly introduce yourself, albeit a little timid. Being in the presence of three good looking men sure would make anyone almost melt on sight.

"Do you need help with unpacking?" Choso offers gently, the three of them waiting for your answer. Though you quickly turn it down politely, not wanting to be a bother on your first day here. Besides, the three of them probably have things to do, like resting. Kento stifles a yawn while Suguru’s eyes look sluggish while he leans on the equally tired-looking Choso.

"Well, okay. If you need any assistance, you can call us. Choso's room is right beside yours, mine and Suguru's are upstairs." Kento tells you and there's something about the way he sounds so caring despite only meeting you that makes you heat up and giddy.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, guys." With that, they leave you to your own devices so you can start unpacking and cleaning up.

It takes about an hour or two of silence before a tall figure blocks your door, 6 or something feet tall hovering in your room like a nosy child. "Hey there!"

"Hello?" You greet him back despite the confusion, watching him step over unopened boxes and check the things you've managed to set up in your room. He reminds you of a curious dog, sniffing around the space in interest.

Once he deems it enough snooping, the man strides over to you, looming over your frame as he looks at you through the sunglasses perched perfectly atop his nose bridge. "Satoru. It's nice to finally meet you." He says your name after his greeting and you look at him questioningly.

"Ahh, Suguru texted me about you." His stark white hair is distracting as you look up to meet his eyes and you can only nod in response.

"Get back here, you lunkhead!" A deep, agitated voice echoes in your room, coming from another tall (and another good-looking) man, stepping into your space, seemingly after someone though he immediately stops once he spots you in front of Satoru.

Sukuna's eyes flit along your body from head to toe before he acknowledges you with a friendly wave though the suggestive smile he has is anything but. He introduces himself with confidence, standing big and almost imposing despite being a head shorter than Satoru.

What is up with your housemates being obnoxiously attractive?

7 months. It took you 7 long months to get used to the presence of your housemates without getting all jumpy. Sure, you still get flustered when Choso pats your head so affectionately every time you thank him for buying snacks for you; you stutter when Suguru teases you about your bedhead with a pinch to your cheeks; you start rambling when Kento asks you about your day and he only smiles and listens to you; you feel all hot and bothered when Satoru presses himself up against you when you cook or even when Sukuna parades himself around the house half-naked like it's no one's business, but hey, it's still progress!

"Hey, earth to, darling!" Suguru waves a hand in front of your face once he notices you've been staring into the distance in the middle of your conversation.

"Huh? Sorry, what was it again?" You're certain that the tips of your ears are red from getting caught spacing off again. You don't want him to get the wrong idea and assume that you find him boring— as a matter of fact, he is far from boring.

Geto Suguru is nowhere near bland and basic. Him and his inky, long, black hair that cascades along his back so beautifully you're almost jealous of it. Suguru, with the way he's always so gentle with you despite his tendencies of being playful. It's all in good fun but he never takes it too far as to hurt you. Sometimes you can even share a good back-and-forth conversation about just anything and nothing, like you’re supposed to be doing now, if he's not out being stupid with Satoru. It's just that recently, you find yourself daydreaming about your roommates at the most inappropriate times of the day.

The latter only laughs, nudging your cheek with his knuckle affectionately before he shakes his head. "Forget about it. Let's just bother Choso to cook for us. What do you say?" You're certain that you and Suguru are going to be yelled at but you indulge him anyway.

Choso was distant during your first few months in the house, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by being all up in your space like two of his friends were (are? since it's an occurrence that is still happening at present time), namely Satoru and Sukuna. He's warmed up to you now, bringing you snacks that you mention to him in passing every time he gets back from university. He's so attentive and caring in his own way and you appreciate all that he is. A wonderful man with such a wonderful face, you could stare at him and admire the horizontal tattoo across his face all day.

"No, I'm not gonna cook for you. Bother someone else." You were halfway down the hall when Choso steps out of his room with a disapproving frown. You swear, he's got some weird telepathic sense.

"How'd you know? Dude." Suguru mutters, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner before backtracking to the kitchen with his hands placed on your shoulders as you walk in front of him.

"Let's just order takeout or something." You suggest once you've made it back, hopping on the stool and leaning forward against the countertop. Suguru settles beside you, one of his arms is around your shoulders now, his other hand blindly fishing for his phone inside the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Chinese!” Satoru throws in his suggestion once he enters the kitchen, heading straight towards the fridge to grab himself another sweet treat— it’s his sixth one today. You wonder how he maintains his pearly white teeth. As far as you know he has never experienced a toothache in his entire life.

“Want some this time, pretty? Sugu?” Satoru offers, looking over his shoulder to see you and his best friend with a bright smile. The thing about Satoru, no matter how insufferable he and his sweet addiction can get, he’s always thoughtful in his own way. He likes to share things that he has, whether it’s as insignificant as a pen to his favorite mochi from an expensive brand. You figured it’s innate to him with how he was brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth— not having to think about the consequence of spending or losing material things since he can always get a replacement, and better. In a way, Suguru took part in humbling the Gojo heir but it’s really just Satoru through and through: annoying with no financial sense, but sweet nonetheless.

“Nooo, we had Chinese food the other day! And another no, thank you.” You huff, eyes scanning the food delivery app displayed in Suguru’s phone.

“I want something greasy.” The latter mutters, clicking on an infamous fast food logo, ignoring his best friend’s quips about his unhealthy obsession with oily chickens, undercooked potatoes and bland-tasting burgers. It sounds rich coming from him, considering he’s the one gobbling up an entire box of macarons from a shop with a foreign name.

“You three are so fucking noisy.” Leave it to Sukuna to make such bold entrances with his deep voice and colorful vocabulary.

“Lovely of you to join us. Tell these two to order Chinese food right now!” Satoru sounds so overjoyed, thinking he found himself a comrade in Sukuna but the latter only scrunches his face in irritation.

“Don’t tell me what to do, punk. I’ll beat you up.”

“Okay. Let’s just have pasta instead.” You decide to step in, knowing that Sukuna’s provocation will lead to an endless bickering with Satoru refusing to back down and Suguru being dragged into their childish argument. It’s an almost everyday thing and at first, you found it amusing but now you’re just tired of it.

Sukuna looks and acts like a brute most of the time. He speaks with this certain edge in his tone and it doesn’t help that he lacks the ability to filter his words. You were most intimidated by him before you got to know him better, what with all his tattoos and deep voice (though you’re not denying that it suits his bad boy charisma). You didn’t expect him either to look after you when you got sick on your fourth week living with them, of all people. He was like a mother hen yapping his head off about how you need to go easy on yourself, to get as much sleep as you need while feeding you— he’s a real big softie behind his sharp tongue and I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-you persona.

“Kento! You just got home?” Suguru’s question makes you look towards the blond male’s direction just outside of the kitchen’s entryway. This makes the two idiots stop bickering as well, choosing to focus on Kento instead.

“Yeah. I was at Yu’s house the whole day.” Kento answers simply before frowning at the sight of you guys crowding the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you can’t decide what to have for dinner again.” He added, now making his way towards you with a roll of his eyes, carrying bags of what seems to be…food? Oh, thank the heavens!

“Is that Chinese?” Satoru ignores the previous question, opting to take some of the bags from the younger male and place it on the counter in front of you and Suguru.

“It’s not. Mrs. Haibara made them.” Kento sighs, placing the rest of the bags beside the others.

“So, Japanese?” You supply, digging through one of the bags to see for yourself.

“Why does it matter? It’s food.” Sukuna rolls his eyes before yelling at Choso to come join you in the kitchen so all of you can eat together.

“I didn’t even say you could have them.” The blond says out of indignation though he doesn’t do anything to stop Satoru from stabbing one slice of the chicken katsu from the container with a chopstick which makes Suguru slap his hand and scold him.

“Thank you, Ken. Come sit with me, let’s eat.” You pat the other stool beside you, promptly kicking Sukuna’s ass (literally) away when he attempts to occupy it.

“Wench.” The tattooed man mumbles, rubbing his behind as he settles beside Satoru across the three of you. You don’t say anything back, deciding to assist Kento with his own food out of courtesy and gratitude for his timely intervention. It wasn't worth it to stir up another childish bickering over food, and you'd rather keep the peace.

“I already ate but thanks, sweetheart.” Kento murmurs next to you, watching as you fret over him with a fond smile. The thing about Kento is that despite being a man of few words, he’s loud in other aspects that shows how much he cares. Like the way he always remembers his “annoying” housemates and brings back food because he knows that none of you, except Choso and Suguru, are responsible enough to make healthy food on your own. He may not say it outrightly but he gets quite worried about all of you all the time, and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s taken the responsibility of parenting grown adults even if it takes a toll on him sometimes. He doesn’t mind it as much now as he used to, knowing you’re there to watch out for him in return.

“You all deaf or somethin’? Someone’s been knocking at the door for a while now!” Choso complains as he passes by the kitchen, trudging towards the front door with a scowl as his stomach grumbles in hunger.

The door is opened to reveal your next door neighbor’s kid, Megumi, looking wary and a little upset that it was Choso who opened the door for him. “Is Miss Sunshine here?”

The older man’s brows furrowed in confusion, trying to decipher who “Miss Sunshine” is before the familiarity of the nickname hits him, making him squint his eyes down at the kid. “That’s not her name.”

“Dad calls her that.” Megumi simply responds, frowning back at Choso.

Before the latter could say anything else though, your voice rings through the house as you ask Choso who was at the door. Your figure comes into view soon after, wanting to see who's holding your housemate back from his much desired dinner.

“Miss Sunshine!” You hear the cheerful voice of Megumi which makes you run to the front door with an excited smile.

“Megs! What are you doing here? Everything okay? Where’s your dad?” You crouch down to meet the boy’s eyes, shooing Choso away who you hear grumble under his breath about "brats" and "stealing attention” as he walks away but you choose to ignore him. He's still probably salty about the incident that involves his precious little cousin, Yuuji, who only wanted to play with the other boy when he visited rather than pay attention to his ever-longing “Choso nii-san”.

“Dad said he has to go to work. Can I stay with you until he comes back?” The boy asks, hopeful and big, doe eyes staring at you almost pleadingly— not that he needs to anyway.

Megumi is a sweet boy, raised by his father right even though sometimes, Toji makes questionable decisions like leaving his son alone at night without as much as a heads up to another responsible adult to look after the boy— like you. Not that you’re saying Toji needs to tell you about his whereabouts or whatever, but you’ve been Megumi’s babysitter since you’ve befriended his father. Even though he seems pretty independent, you still can't help but worry about him. After all, he is still a young kid and could easily get into trouble by himself. It would worry you greatly if you were to find out that he was hurt or worse while his father is away.

“Of course, baby. Come on in. Did you have anything for dinner yet?” You usher the boy inside, leading him to the kitchen where the others are. They immediately stop talking once they spot Megumi with you, hiding behind your figure with an inconspicuous glare directed at all of them.

“MEGUMI!” Satoru is the first to break the silence by yelling the boy’s name in glee and jumping off his seat to welcome your little visitor. Said visitor hurries to shield himself more behind you, clutching at your shirt as if it would save him from the impending doom that is Satoru. Megumi, on multiple occasions, has shown his dislike for the older man.

“Don’t bombard spiky urchin over there.” Suguru mumbles uncaringly, more focused on the food he’s currently eating. The nickname he and the others have picked for Megumi makes you roll your eyes, and you don’t miss the slight whine from the little boy behind you. He loathes that nickname so much.

“Come eat with us, Megumi.” Kento waves for the latter to join him and the rest, getting off his chair to give it to the boy.

“I already did. Thanks though.” Megumi sends the blond man a tiny smile, seemingly the only person he’s okay being around with. Out of all the men within the vicinity, Kento seems to be the only one who acts completely normal with the boy, aside from Suguru who mostly doesn’t care but sometimes joins in on the teasing with Satoru. Sukuna, on the other hand, tries to terrorize the little man whenever he can but his lighthearted intimidation seems to never work because Megumi doesn’t really care enough to pay attention to him— or to any of your housemates aside from Kento occasionally.

“Where’s your father, boy?” Sukuna asks, briefly looking up from the rectangular plastic container full of sushi he's hogged from the rest.

“Work.” Megumi plainly responds, not even bothering to look at the older guy but you can clearly see the annoyance gleaming on the boy’s face.

Oh. This is going to be a long night.

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angelltheninth · 9 months

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Jing Yuan NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, aftercare, cunnilingus, marking, cum eating, toy use, masturbation, boob appreciation, kissing, cuddles, wall sex, blowjob, hallways sex, begging, quickie

A/N: This is so damn long lmao. Written for @hellolavendarsky.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jing Yuan lets you have a few minutes to settle down before he pulls his cock out of you. His aftercare usually includes carrying you to the bath to help you wash yourself and wrapping you up in a really thick, soft and fluffy towel afterwards, making you feel safe and comfy. He loves to lay you on his chest, letting you be on top while you talk to him about the things you enjoyed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you his favorite is your stomach, he's a big enjoyer of that, no matter what your body type if. As long as there's enough of you to kiss, maybe nibble and lay his head on to rest he really couldn't care less. One of his favorite body parts are his shoulders. They're always like a place for his badges of honor, and by that he means all the bites and nail marks you leave on him while's fucking you into the surface you're having sex on.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Almost addicted to the taste of your cum. His doesn't really interest him that much unless it's inside your holes. But your cum needs to be on his tongue at least once every time he has sex with you. Drinking it down, lapping it up like he hasn't drank anything all day and making a show of licking it off his lips and swallowing it, humming at your taste right before he goes in for more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He keeps sex toys in a secret box in his office. They're not always for him to use on you, sometimes he's feeling so pent up and he needs the release to function normally for the rest of the day. Thank god he's never been caught using them or that no one has found his stash cause he's been slowly adding onto it since he met you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Could find his way around your body with his eyes closed. There aren't many things he hasn't tried yet in his many years. He's hot, famous, a good person, very well respected so he's had many partners in his time. Not one to compare the experience levels unless it's necessary to do so, like if you're hesitant to try something and he's tried it before, he'll tell you all about it, how to be safe during it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that can give him a nice view of your tits or ass jiggling is great. If he's within boob grabbing or sucking reach that's even better. Reverse cowgirl is really good when he wants to feel and see your ass smacking against his abs but in this position he can't see your face so he would rather have you on your side, one leg over his shoulder and fucking his cock in you that way. He can see your face, touch your boobs and your ass all in one.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Keeps things pretty lighthearted even when he's playing up the more dominant aspect of his personality. Is serious only if he needs to reassure you of something or explain something to you. Otherwise he would much rather keep things cheerful and teasing for the both of you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jing Yuan is extremely well groomed and keeps all his body hair neatly trimmed at all times. His hair is of course one of his selling points so he would be stupid not to maintain it. Actually has more hair-care products then you do and thought it was hilarious when you asked if you could borrow his shampoo. Sure you can, he likes smelling his scent on you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy is a big deal to him. Even when you were only having sex in his office and weren't official yet he always put a lot of emphasis on intimacy. Touching your face, kissing your fingers, keeping your bodies close so you can feel each other's orgasm everywhere, inside and out, kissing you until your lungs hurt, it was always, always a big part of sex for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Masturbates in the morning and in the noon when he's at work. Doing it at work always brought a bit of a risk with it but when he's got to do it he's just got to do it. He's been caught by you before, with his pants fully down and your picture in his hand. Who else would he think about while handling his cock? Always tries to be quick about it, but is slow when it comes to making love.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Very much into ropes and leashes, specifically on you. He would love to treat you as his little pet, his bitch that's always, always in heat and ready to suck his cock the moment he feels him tug on your leash. It's also good for control, when you're riding him, no matter of you're facing him or not he can pull you back, control your pace. He can also tie you up, completely or partially, or if you want you can tie him up and only have him able to thrust into you and endure your mouth edging him until he can break free.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The hallway. Any kind of a hallway will do. When he fucks you in the hallway it's a dead give away that you're both so god damn horny for each other that you can't possibly wait to be in a proper enclosed space. Hell lift you up, pin you to the wall, hold you by your thighs and watch as his cock plummets in and out of your pussy, your panties held to the side by you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Usually when you're being shy about it. He needs to coax it out of you, he needs to make you say you want him or else he's not doing it. It's such a fun game of cat and mouse, you have no idea how much he likes it. When you can't say it and he denies you, when he's almost out the door and you yell at him to wait and throw your arms around him, your voice barely above a whisper as you beg, pretty please can he fuck you, can he make you come.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Really rough play. Slapping you and manhandling you from time to time is okay but he is very away of how strong he is. He would never want to risk making you bleed or seeing you in tears from the pain he's caused. Painplay is a huge no for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ideally he would like both at the same time. He likes giving a little more because that way he can hear your moans a little more clearly but having you struggling to talk while choking on his cock is a good sound too. Oral sex is almost always part of your love making session, weather before or after penetration for clean up.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Really depends on the amount of time you have. He likes taking it slow but whenever he does he prolongs the foreplay a little too long and ends up overstimulating your poor pussy before his cock even gets in. And he can lose control very easily when it comes to his speed, when you give him the green light he will fuck you so hard you're scared he's gonna break you. Never, but he can get you close, as long as you're enjoying it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

At least a few times a week, most often when you visit him in his office. There have been many meetings delayed by him because visited unexpectedly and instead of going over papers he ended up balls deep inside of you while you're bent over his desk. Good thing that he's the boss so no one can fire him for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He wouldn't be nearly as experianced if he didn't take risks in his sex life. If there's something, anything that you would like to try with him please tell him. He'll try anything once, as long as he can ensure your safety during it. If it's something really risky then he'll make sure to talk to someone who's already tried it to make it the safest it can be.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

What you would call a stamina monster. The recovery period is also a bit shorter then most men, which he doesn't attribute to his stamina but rather having sex with such a hot woman with a great pussy. How could his cock stay soft when there are so many more orgasms to give you and more holes of yours to fill? But he can also use his fingers and mouth too, until he's hard again. Keep moaning, it helps a lot.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Owns a lot of toys and his collection only grows. For his pleasure he always keeps a cocksleeve in his office, which can vibrate and suck. Vibrators can be for you both, and bullet vibrators too. He really likes keeping a tiny one against your clit while you suck him off so you have constant stimulation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It's one of his favorite types of foreplay. Teasing has also been a big part of him winning you over and making you fall in love with him. There's never a bad time to lean in and bite on your ear or give you a little slap on the ass. He's not nearly as easy to tease back, almost impossible, the only time you can do so is if he's drunk.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Depends on if you're at home or somewhere more public. He's pretty vocal either way but the volume will vary. You swear he was raised by lions because he's always growling and humming and grunting and sighing against you. It's hot when you're alone and he floods your pussy with hot cum, screaming, roaring his release into the heavens but when you could get caught you have to be kissing him almost all the time to stop all of his noises.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Insanely turned on when you call him 'sir' or 'boss'. Thankfully this only happens when you call him these things and not the people that actually work for him cause that would be really awkward. If you say these things as a joke he'll get really pouty because his brain associates them with sex, and therefore he will get an erection. Which is why you use these words when you have sex or when you want to have sex with him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

No surprise that he's is in very, very good shape. Muscles all over his body, a six pact that you can grind and come all over, legs for days and a cock to match. His cock is both long and girthy, which took a lot out of you the first time you had sex. He's pretty veiny as well but that ads a little bit to the texture and the pressure, not to mention you can always feel him pulsing nicely in your hand or mouth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jing Yuan has a pretty high sex drive, which is hard to match with most of his previous partners. You had some trouble too, at first but he's never put any pressure on you to match him. He can control himself just fine and if he's really pent up there's always his hand and the toy collection he has.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He never falls asleep right after sex, nor do you because he always has a bath ready for the two of you to properly relax in. Only after that is he ready to sleep and even then it takes him a while. He really likes to watch your eyes close, your body press against his and your breathing slow down. When he's sure you're in a deep sleep he can finally let himself sleep too.

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countcvnt · 2 months

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Experiment

Chapter Four: Stamina

[Poly!TF 141 x Fem!Reader]

[Ch. Three] [Ch. Five]

Summary: After a couple days of rest, you realize just how much stamina you have. You train with boys to get some energy out. Warnings: Descriptions of broken bones, mentions of blood, slight suggestive language Word Count: 3.3k A/N: This chapter isn't as sad. Next chapter will have light smut! I got the idea of the chapter link thing from @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries so thanks Ikea!! Hope it's alright tag you just for that lmao. Also I just learned how to do the side by side gifs yay!!

It’s been a couple days since your nap… Since your realization. Simon has only been more distant. You’re sitting in the training area, alone, when Soap and Gaz walk in.

"We got ye this!” Soap extends his hand. “It’s a radio!” You look up at him with confusion. “I ken it isnae a phone…”

“Hey,” You grab it, “it’s better than nothing. Now I can bother all of you all the time!”

“Actin’ more and more like yerself!” Soap hits you on the back. It catches you off guard how hard he hit you. You are fine, you aren’t going to bruise, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d always nudged or hit you so hard. “How come yer here by yerself?”

You shrug. “Simon was supposed to meet me here. Do some training. Guess he skipped out on me.”

Soap lights up. “I can help ye!” He seems excited.

“We both can, actually.” Gaz interjects.

You nod, lighting up. “Okay! I’d like that. I’ll be sure to go easy on the both of you.” You smile at them as you stand up. You already stretched earlier, ten minutes before Simon was supposed to come in. So, instead of doing that, you walk to the middle of the room and stand there, eagerly awaiting Soap and Gaz.

“Now,” Soap puts a hand up, “don’ think ye have to go easy on us.”

Gaz makes a face, “You haven’t seen her strength yet, have you?”

You laugh. “I’ll hold back a little bit…” You reassure him. “But, I don’t want either of you to hold back. I promise, I can take it. Trust me.”

You take a fighting stance, ready for them to come at you. Gaz and Soap look at each other. Gaz gives a gentle nod to Soap, one you assume you were not supposed to catch, and Soap takes off towards you. You plant your feet and prepare yourself for Soap hitting you. His rough hands grab you, and the both of you grapple for a moment. Your arms get free and instinctively wrap around Soap’s ribcage, and get behind him at a speed he was unsure was possible.

You easily bring him up and over you, suplexing him into the mat below you. You stand up straight and look down at Soap. He groans, the air has been knocked out of him. You smile at him and he motions for Gaz to move.

“Yer suppose’ to ger ‘er now.”

Gaz looks at you funny. “I don’t think I want to be thrown like that.”

“It’s kinda hot, actually,” Soap smiles at you once he seems to be breathing properly again. Your face heats up. You look at Soap with wide eyes. He sits up and rubs the back of his neck. “What did they give ye?”

You, still hung up on the ‘hot’ thing, shrug. “I dunno.” Your mind is racing. You need to do something other than rest or eat. You want to throw Soap around some more, but you can’t stop thinking about his comment.

“Look,” Gaz motions towards you, looking at Soap. “She’s in shock. Ya told her that was hot, and now she’s in shock.”

“Same old bonnie,” Soap stands up and smiles at you.

“Uh, that was very cathartic…” You shift your weight, “can we continue this… 'training’?”

“Cathartic? Throwing him around eased your mind?” Gaz looks at you with wide eyes.

You nod at him. “Yeah, I think it’d also be fun if you both ran at me!” You smile wide.

“Yer outnumbered,” Soap places a hand on your shoulder, “that isn’ fair.”

You cross your arms. “Johnny,” You narrow your eyes at him. “They wanted to test my reflexes before you got me out of there. They improved a lot more than my strength, I just wanna test something out…”

The both of them look at each other. “If ya say so.” Gaz responds.

You excitedly nod back and get in your fighting stance once more. “Remember,” You point at them, “do not go easy on me! Please.” You smile at them. You want to know what you’re capable of.

Gaz and Soap don’t say a word. Instead, Gaz runs at you. It's your turn to grapple with him. While you’re fighting with Gaz, you can feel Soap running at you. You tense and throw Gaz to the floor and immediately direct your attention onto Soap. His arms wrap around your waist and you're sent sailing over him. He effortlessly suplexes you into the mat and you groan.

Soap and Gaz are both standing over you, looking down at you and smiling. “Was that payback?” You ask, catching your breath.

“We’re even now.” Soap puts his hand out towards you.

You don’t hesitate to grab it. Soap easily pulls you up and Gaz steadies you as you stand. As you’re thanking them, the doors of the training room opens. The three of you turn towards the door and you perk up.

“You’re finally here!” Your eyes hit Simon’s.

“What do you mean? ‘Finally’?” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I said 12:30… it’s now 12:29.”

“Oh, I thought you said 1200…” You feel embarrassed now.

“You’ve been here since then, waiting?”

“She’s been throwin’ us around.” Gaz rubs the back of his neck.

Simon approaches you and looks down at you, “Good, you’ve been warming up.”

Your stomach flips at how he says that. His tone… He has not come to just mess around, you already know that much. He walks past you and towards the end of the mat. Soap, Gaz, and you stare at him. He motions for Soap and Gaz to move, and they do. You blink at him. You quickly take your ass to the other end of the mat and wait for Simon’s next move.

Simon does not say a word. Instead, he rushes you. He easily grabs you, turns you around, and is holding you close to him, his arms keeping you from moving. You let you an awkward laugh, “What the fuck?” Simon doesn’t say a word. Instead he shoves you forward. You do not miss a step. You turn back to him and rush towards him.

“Suplex him!” Gaz shouts from the sidelines. Him and Soap seem just as curious as you about your strength.

You can’t help but wonder if you could… You want to try it. Simon is a big boy, and you want to test your new found strength. The both of you circle each other and your fingers are wiggling, you’re looking for an opening. You end up moving faster than Simon can register. You wind up behind him and grab his waist.

Simon does not let you get further than that. His elbow rears back, and you realize you are at just the right angle to get hit just a tad too late. Simon’s elbow slams into your face, harder than he had expected it to, and a loud pop echoes through the training room. You let go of him immediately. You fall to the floor, warmth covering your face. You let out a low, primal growl ready to fucking obliterate Simon. You want to maul him. Something in you is about to snap. Until suddenly his words replay in your head. ‘I trust you.’

Simon would never intentionally hurt you. And when you look up at Simon, his eyes tell you he truly did not mean to hit you so hard. Your eyes cut towards Soap and Gaz, who are watching you with anticipation.

You inhale sharply through your mouth and snap your nose back into place, stopping the bleeding pretty quickly. You sit up and Ghost puts his hand towards you. “Come on,” He sounds like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “You need to go to the med bay.”

Your bloody hand reaches for him and you grab it. You, in the spur of the moment, decide now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation and as you pull yourself up, kick your leg out. It slams into Simon’s shin and he’s doubling over. You slam your body into his and slide across the mat. You straddle Simon and you're holding him down. You’re breathing heavily and watching him.

The look in his eyes tells you he had not expected that. “Don’t let your guard down.” You heave out, a dull pain pulsating through your nose.

Simon sits there a moment. You move to get up and look at Soap and Gaz, who are watching with wide eyes. As you stand, a hand grabs you and you’re flipped. Your back slams into the floor and the wind is knocked out of you. You gasp. Your eyes shoot open and Simon is crouching above you, his large, rough hand wrapped around your throat. You watch him, unblinking. Not breathing.

Simon lowers himself to your level. His eyes stay on yours. You swallow hard and inhale shakily as his lips hover over your ear. “Don’t let your guard down.” He whispers in your ear. He stands up and walks off from you. “Get her to the med bay.”

You lie on the floor. The door opens and closes as Simon leaves. You, still laying down, look over at Soap and Gaz. You try to process everything that just happened. They rush over to you and Gaz crouches beside you. You look at him, eyes still wide, brain still processing. Neither of them seem to have expected that.

“Gaz,” Soap looks off towards the door, “I’m gonna check on Ghost…”

“Okay, I’ll get her checked out.” Gaz nods at Soap. He places a hand on your shoulder and you sit up. Gaz helps you stand and you look at all the blood on the ground and your hands. You know it’s covering your face. “Come on, love, let’s go.”

You're sitting in an exam room, mostly cleaned up. You look at the monitor across the room from you, your eyes stuck on it. The IV pole is beside it. “Are they gonna hook me up?” You ask Gaz, your eyes not leaving the monitor.

“No, love,” Gaz grips your shoulder. “You just broke your nose. They have no need to hook you up to that.”

The doctor walks in as he finishes his sentence. She's a woman. You feel yourself relaxing a little bit. Her lab coat isn't doing you any favors though. All medical coats must be the same, all you can think about is the facility. You exhale slowly and grab Gaz’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm Doctor Johnson, I'll be checking on you, okay?” You can't tell if she used to know you or not. You nod at her. “What happened?”

“Well, I assume it all started when I was taken–”

“No, not that far back,” Gaz smiles at you.

“Oh, my bad.” You look at the doctor. “I was training with Lt. Ghost and we got a little too rough. Thankfully, I don't get hurt like normal people.” You say, kicking your feet off of the side of the exam bed.

Her face contorts. “Okay–” She drags out the word. “Is that from your…” She pauses. She knows. You nod. “Okay, Price should have brought you to me sooner.” She looks at Gaz and back at you. “Is it okay if he's in here?”

“Of course! I actually prefer it… him staying.”

Dr. Johnson nods. “That's fine, just wanna make sure.” She smiles at you softly. “Can I check your nose?” When you say yes, she approaches you. Her gloved hands gently touch the bridge of your nose. You don't flinch at her touches. She gently pushes it and it pops. Again, you don't flinch. “You can't feel that?”

“I mean, I know you're touching me. But it doesn't hurt, no.” You shake your head.

She hums. She checks inside and then looks at you. “Your nose, you broke it before.” She states it as fact. She knows you have.

“Well, actually, yes. At the facility, they broke it. They hit me with the butt of an assault rifle.”

Gaz’s drop on your hand tightens. You can see his whole body tense, his Adam's apple bobs. You say it so nonchalantly. He doesn't like it.

The doctor swallows hard. She seems stunned. She quickly gathers her thoughts and inhales through her nose. “May I ask what tests they ran on you?”

“Yes you may,” you reply sweetly. “But I can't tell you what they were. They never told me. I just know I'm quite literally built to take those types of blows and then some.”

“We could help you figure it out.” She suggests it. She isn't pushing you.

“No.” It's the first thing that comes from your mouth. “I'm already stressed enough sitting right here in front of you. I will not be hooked up to monitors, or poked with needles.” You stand your ground.

“It's okay,” Gaz calms you down. “We don't have to do that. Not right now.”

The doctor purses her lips, looking at Gaz. “It'd be good to know those things. It could help you.” She sounds so calming, genuinely trying to keep you from freaking out.

You do want to know what's up with you. But you don't want to put yourself in distress just to figure it out. You sigh. “Not right now.” You shake your head. “I need time to think about it.”

She nods at you. “That's fine. Your nose is completely fine. You're free to leave, if you'd like.”

You have never gotten up so fast in your life. You drag Gaz out of the room with you. He doesn't stumble once, but he does wince, causing you to realize how tightly you're holding onto him. You mumble an apology and let him go once you're out of the exam room. You stop in the hall and take everything in. The lights are bright and everything smells so… sterile. It's almost haunting.

“We can get out of here.”

“That sounds good.” The both of you begin to leave. “Do you wanna train again?” You ask him, cocking your head.

Gaz makes a gutteral noise, laughing. “After all that, you still wanna train?”

“Yes, it was nice. It was… relieving my stress. I still have a bunch of pent up energy.”

“We'll find you something to take that out on.” He leads you out of the med bay.

“After sleeping the last couple of nights, I've never felt better I don't think. I must have stamina for days. I feel like I could go at it forever.”

“Oh?” Gaz looks over his shoulder at you. “Forever? And what are you going at exactly?” His brow cocks.

Your face heats up. “Not like– That's not– In a sense–” You stumble on your words. “Fuck.” You want to bury your head in your hands.

“Oh, fuck?” Gaz smirks at you. “Really? I didn't know you were like that.” He nudges you with his elbow.

“Kyle, I'm going to die. I think I'm literally going to pass away.” You look at him with a pout.

“Sorry, love, you aren't getting out that easy. I think I have an idea on how to get your energy out though. We could always try the gym, or the track? There's a new recruit who beat the best time and I think– I know you can beat him.” He turns and grabs your shoulders. “I think it'd be really funny if you beat him.”

You smirk at him. “I'm an enhanced individual now. And you want me to beat some poor rookie’s best time on the track? You want me to destroy him?”

“Yes. Gotta keep the new guys in check. Plus, we can check that stamina of yours.”

You smile, “Okay!” You put a finger up, “But, I'm not doing it to pumble some guy's record. I'm doing it because I'm testing myself.”

“Hey, that's fine with me.” Gaz grabs your hand again. “Come on!”

You let out a laugh as Gaz drags you outside and towards the track. When you get outside there are several people stretching, getting ready to run. Most of them are men.

“Hey,” you look at Gaz, “do you think they'll be emotionally distraught if I outrun them?”

You sure hope so.

“Only one to find out.”

Gaz walks over to the track with you. You approach the group and they all look at you. Your grip tightens on Gaz’s hand and you smile awkwardly at them. Most of the people are new recruits. You are positive they don't know about your… predicament. You introduce yourself as Ace.

“Just came to run a little bit, burn some energy!” You release Gaz’s hand.

They don't seem to think much about it. You walk towards the track and ready yourself. The sergeant at the sidelines readies the group and you examine them. You're trying to pick out the fastest one. The one you want to beat. Or one Gaz wants you to beat.

“Three–”

Everyone is getting ready to run. You look at Gaz.

“Two–”

He motions towards a tall, slender man. You lock on.

“One!”

You take off. All of you take off. You know you're supposed to pace yourself when running. You watch everyone doing that, except one person. The one Gaz pointed out to you. You can feel Gaz watching you. You have an urge to show off for him. The urge to impress him is suddenly very strong. You don't fight it.

You take off. Your legs push you forward and quickly run by the man. You give him a smile as you run by him. He doesn't falter. He picks up his speed. So you do the same.

Before you know it you are speeding around the track. The man left in the dust. You reach the end of the mile and smile at Gaz. He's the only one you see. You don't notice everyone stopped and staring. The sergeant clicks his timer.

“Ace,” the sergeant waves you over. “You just beat the fastest time by three minutes…”

“What. The. Fuck!?” A scream echoes from behind you. “How did you do that?”

“Peter, calm down.”

“What the fuck,” He repeats himself, quieter this time. “That’s not possible… I did track for years! And you come up here out of nowhere–” His hands are in his hair. His eye on the ground.

Oh, he’s mad. You watch him closely. Gaz steps in between you and Peter. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he does that. Peter looks distraught.

“How did you do that?”

You aren't sure how much you can tell him. So you shrug.

“You don't know?” His eyes widened. “Did you do track at all? Have you ever even run in your life? You aren't even out of breath!”

“I don't know–”

“What does that mean?! You don't know? How does someone not know that?”

He's so fragile. He storms off. You look at Gaz and he turns his head towards you.

“Did I do okay?” You can't help but ask.

“Okay?” He asks you. “Love, that was amazing! You set a new record!”

“I wasn't even doing the best I could–” Your face is hot.

Gaz pulls you into a hug. He's proud of you. You don't immediately hug back, causing Gaz to pull away. You pull him back to you, keeping from crushing him. The last time you hugged one of them —intentionally— was when you hugged Simon two days ago. You hadn't realized how much you needed physical contact since then.

Gaz hugs back, his hand rubbing your back. It seems to be just as therapeutic for him.

“Okay,” the sergeant speaks up, “how did you do that?”

Gaz pulls away from you, and you look at the sergeant. You shrug. “I'm just that good, I guess.”

The sergeant narrows his eyes. He doesn't get a chance to say anything about it before your new radio goes off.

“Ace,” Price comes over the radio. “meet me at the barracks immediately, over.”

You groan. “Copy, over.”

He knows something. You grab Gaz's hand and begin back towards base. Gaz doesn't argue with you taking him with you. He does seem confused. But he holds your hand with no complaints, following you to the barracks.

Taglist:

@moonyinthestars @dory-98 @otto-s-alskling @aeilani @klutzy-kay24 @sher-ni @infpt-zylith @eustassh @kaoyamamegami @zoexme @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes @waiting-so-long @mill7531

(tags are being weird again, i'm sorry if it didn't let me tag you... also think that's everyone? If i forgot you, just let me know I'll be sure to add you next chapter! I'm sorry im very forgetful and my list fills.. like it's missing someone)

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #poly!tf 141 #cod mw2

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finntheehumaneater · 4 months

Text

I owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 3)

(Part one) (part four)

playlist | pinboard

@hack-saw2004 THIS IS FOR YOU. THEY DID THE THING. And also more than that because I thought “this needs to be gayer”. I also have never smoked, so…sorry if it’s inaccurate lmao

some tags for people haven’t been working, so I am so sorry if you’re on the taglist but it didn’t go through :(

(notes and taglist under the cut)

CW: smoking, swearing, nightmares

It was windier than it had been before when Eddie pulled up to his trailer, and any semblance of neatness in Steve’s hair was blown away the second he stepped outside. The wind stung against his face, and he blinked back tears as he squinted at the trailer. It wasn’t supposed to be this cold, it was July sixth.

He waited for Eddie to get out, and then hobbled behind him to the front door. Every step made his chest ache and his lungs burn. The painkillers helped a bit, but it was only Ibuprofen so it just made him feel less tired. He still needed sleep, though. Maybe a good shower. He smelled like blood sweat and dust, even though his clothes were clean.

Eddie opened the door and helped Steve up. His hands were warm, but his rings were cold, and Steve didn’t realize he had been staring at the metal skull until Eddie tried to wriggle his hand out of Steve’s grip. Steve let go, his cheeks pink.

“Sorry,” he tried to say, but he barely got the words out before a gruff voice called, and Wayne Munson shuffled into the room, eyeing Steve over.

“Ed? Who’s this?”

Wayne’s brown flannel hung loosely off of him—the same with his ripped-up jeans, that Steve didn’t think were supposed to be that ripped. He had lost weight since the last time Steve had seen him out. Which has been a few months ago.

Steve wanted to say that he was nobody—that he was just a stranger staying the night because he felt too broken to go and sleep alone—because he couldn’t just accept the fact that he had to be okay, even after everybody that happened. But he stayed silent, watching Eddie go up to Wayne and whisper something.

Their tones were hushed, and Wayne kept looking back over at Steve, which made him shrink into himself slightly, feeling bare again. He wished he had a jacket or something—something that he could pull around himself. He tugged the waistband of his jeans up a bit higher and crossed his arms over his stomach.

He honestly didn’t know how long he had been staring at the floor, but eventually Eddie came over and took his hand, tugging him down the very small, thin hallway and towards the bathroom. Steve felt a few tears slip down his cheeks, but Eddie ignored him, looking over his face for a minute before he pushed Steve gently into the bathroom, stating simply, “Shower.”

Steve nodded and wiped his eyes. He really needed to stop fucking crying. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not for a while. He watched Eddie run a hand through his hair, his eyes wide as he huffed and held his hands out in front of him—palms facing Steve like he was a spooked animal that might run. He might’ve.

“Jesus, okay. We have very little hot water, so try not to use it all, yeah? Like a ten minute shower tops? I’ll come in and leave some clothes on the counter, and then I’ll go and make up the couch for you. You’ll be okay in here by yourself?”

He said it like he was offering to stay, and Steve really would have fucking liked that—just to have someone in here with him even if he couldn’t see them through the shower curtain—but he knew that’s not what Eddie was asking. So he nodded even though he didn’t mean it and let Eddie start the shower for him, tucking himself into the corner. He watched as Eddie grabbed a towel from the cabinet below the sink and placed it on top of the toilet seat, before patting his shoulder and leaving.

Fuck, the shower felt amazing. Eddie came in at some point to put clothes on the counter, but Steve wasn’t really aware of anything more as he sat there, letting the water run over him. He regretted washing his hair, because he didn’t know what the hell was in Eddie’s shampoos—the bottles kind of sticky and the labels long worn off—but it was better than having his hair flopping over and stuck to his forehead. He also didn’t think that Eddie had any hairspray—let alone the kind he normally used.

He tried to get himself out before the water turned cold, but he regretted it immediately after, because the air was too-cool and his hair was sticking to the back of his neck in a way that made him want to cry.

He dried off and changed into the clothes Eddie had left on the counter—an old brown sweater and some shorts that clung to his thighs in a way that was almost uncomfortable, but he’d live. It was better than sleeping in jeans, anyways. The door to Wayne and Eddie’s rooms were closed, so Steve went to the living room, falling onto the couch that had a blanket draped over. He had kind of expected it to be more made up than it was, but then felt bad for thinking that. He had shown up last minute, to people that he knew didn’t like him that much, so he deserved to sleep on the couch where the springs poked into his side, with a scratchy pillow and a thrown blanket that Steve thought was supposed to be white. And it probably had been, at some point. Maybe twenty years ago.

He tried to get comfortable—tried to shake off the gross feeling of his damp hair, which was going to look horrible in the morning, but at least it was clean, now—and closed his eyes.

There was blood everywhere. It was on him, and on the floor, and dripping into teeth. He was alone and the room was dark and fuck, he couldn’t see. Everything was blurry. His face hurt. His head hurt. His chest hurt. He heard the door open, and backed into the corner, barely able to see through his swollen eyes.

“Please,” he begged, but he didn’t even know what he was begging for. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to leave. He wanted to die. He wanted Robin.

Steve woke with a start as he heard the screen door swing shut, sitting up quickly and gasping. His hands immediately went to his face, feeling it over, and he crumpled back into himself when he felt the stinging of still-hurt skin. It had happened. He wasn’t okay.

He got up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as gently as he could and stumbled outside, his feet tripping over themselves. He kind of wished he had kept his socks on after the shower, even if they were dirty.

Eddie was perched on the picnic table just outside of the trailer, a cigarette dangling from his lips, an open notebook in his lap. He had headphones on, and Steve could hear the loud music coming through, but the Walkman was too far away for him to read what the tape was. There was a small tin sitting next to it, cream colored with a gold-looking lid. It looked outdated.

Steve made his way down to the grass and sat next to Eddie, who still didn’t notice him, his eyes glued to the notebook and whatever drawing he was making. Steve picked up the tin. It had the face and shoulders of a woman on the front—long blonde hair and a laurel wreath, her pale skin almost the color of the tin. There were green and gold designs around her, outlining the font. Some of the words were faded and scratched over, but Steve could make it out. Or at least what he thought it said.

Colgate’s Dactylis. Talc Powder. Boric Antiseptic. COLGATE & CO. New York, USA.

He opened it, and there were cigarettes stuffed inside, a lighter stuck with them. The tin in itself wasn’t very big, but it fit maybe four or five of them with the lighter.

He felt Eddie startle as he set the tin back down, flinching in on himself, one of his knees raised as he threw the notebook onto the bench and wrenched off his headphones. “Jesus, Harrington…,” he muttered, putting a hand over his heart and sighing. His eyes looked kind of red, like he had been crying. Steve wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew Eddie would yell at him if he did. “Give a man a warning.”

Steve nodded and looked down. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie muttered, huffing and picking up the Walkman. Steve tried to catch a glimpse of what it was, but Eddie tucked it away after he paused it, too soon for Steve to see.

Steve sighed, settling into the almost-uncomfortable silence, before he saw Eddie’s hand in his vision, holding out the cigarette for him. Steve looked over at him. Some of Eddie’s curls were falling over his face, acting like a curtain, making his expression unreadable, but he saw Eddie nod.

He put his to his lips and took a drag, holding it for a second and letting the smoke fill up his lungs, before he breathed out, watching the smoke cloud in the cool early-morning air in front of his face. At least he assumed it was early-morning.

“So graceful,” Eddie murmured as Steve handed it back to him. He didn’t know why, but it made his cheeks flush. Eddie took a drag himself and sighed out the smoke, dropping his head before he handed it to Steve.

Steve just looked down at it for a moment, watching the very tip of it sizzle to ash. He heard Eddie clear his throat and looked over. His hair kind of looked golden around the edges from the light of the porch light of the trailer behind them. It looked good on him. Made him look almost god-like.

“You smoke often?” Eddie asked quietly, and Steve shook his head.

“Not really?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Eddie mused, eyeing Steve over, a kind of annoyance in his face that was overshadowed by the soft yellow light around him.

Steve shrugged, looking away and sighing. He didn’t mean to keep making Eddie angry with him—and to be honest, he didn’t even know what he was doing to make him mad—but maybe he deserved this, for being such a dick to him years ago.

He was about to say something stupid that would probably make Eddie even more mad, an apology for his past actions on the tip of his tongue, when Eddie spoke up again. “You ever shotgunned?”

Steve froze, shaking his head. “No.”

“I meant with smoking.”

“There’s another one?” Steve tilted his head.

Eddie nodded. “S’the, uh…you stab the thing?” He mimed stabbing a knife into something and then taking a sip. “With the beer? I’ve seen you do it at parties and shit. The girls seem impressed by it.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that’s what it was called,” Steve said quietly, shrugging. “I’ve never…done the smoking one, then.”

“Do you want to?” Eddie asked, and he sounded kind of unsure. Steve looked over, feeling his eyebrows raise, and he hesitated.

“Hm?”

“Shotgun? Do you want to?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve scooched a bit closer, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “How do I do it?”

Eddie raised onto his knees on the top of the picnic table, hovering above Steve before tucking a finger under Steve’s chin so that he could raise his head. Steve leaned into his hand slightly, and maybe it was the fact that he was fucking exhausted that made him do it.

Eddie grabbed his face gently, his fingers were a bit harsh in a way that Steve kind of liked, the other man’s fingers pressing into his cheeks, the cigarette in his other hand.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie whispered, and Steve did. He felt like an idiot, just sitting there with his mouth hanging open as Eddie towered above him, taking a drag of the cigarette. He didn’t blow it out in the air, though, instead leaning forward, his lips ghosting over Steve’s, and Steve thought about leaning in for a split second, before Eddie breathed out into Steve’s mouth.

It startled Steve so much that he flinched back, his eyes wide as he choked on the smoke and coughed, doubling over with his face tucked into his arm. Eddie laughed softly and shook his head slightly, putting out the cigarette against the heel of his shoe when he sat back down. He grabbed his notebook and Walkman, standing up and flicking the stud of a cigarette into the grass. “That was shotgunning. Like it?”

Steve nodded as he coughed, his face burning red and his eyes watering. What the fuck just happened? Eddie walked back into the trailer, closing the screen door behind him. Steve got up and grabbed the cigarette but, tugging the sweater down lower, his thighs stinging from where they had been stuck to the picnic table.

He wanted to talk about this, because all of that seemed to…it seemed too much like a “friend” thing, for two people who “hated each other”. Maybe even more than a friend thing. But he knew they wouldn’t talk about it. He didn’t know Eddie that well, but he did know one thing about him. Hell, everyone knew it.

Eddie didn’t talk things over with people.

Eddie’s cigarette tin. If you even care.

I don’t read the parts of this fic over, if you find a mistake, lmk!!

taglist (WHICH IS ALWAYS OPEN ♥️):

@estrellami-1 @randombibitch @insteviewetrust @anne-bennett-cosplayer @lolawonstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @slowandsteddie @ellietheasexylibrarian @mugloversonly @littlebluejane @zombiethingy @steddie-island @rozzieroos @ohimamarigold @origamiplushie @mamafaithful @stillfullofshit @gleek4twd @swimmingbirdrunningrock @anaibis @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself

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dreaming-medium · 5 months

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Pssst, can I ask u🫵 something?

Do you have any rec for skzfic? Since you're a good writer so I think you a good taste in fics

Omg hey! You can absolutely ask me this, sorry it took so long for me to get around to! SO I read most (all) of my fics on Ao3! I'm still getting used to Tumblr lmao I can try to curate some Tumblr fics but that would take me a hot minute But here are some good ones I have bookmarked, I think most, if not all, are smutty 18+, but I'll tag them nontheless: Not gunna lie, 99% of the fics I read have smut just cause of what I like, so

Multi-chap fics:

Close Your Eyes (... And Count To Seven) by MysteryBird (18+) Ot8 x reader Word Count: 117,144 Mafia AU where the reader hooks up with each member of the gang. HIGHLY SMUTTY, has some extreme kinks in it. Definitely a Dead Dove Do Not Eat on the tags. But my god it is so well written and has plot, idk how it doesn't have more attention.

Stray Gods by DollyStuart (18+) Poly!Ot8 x reader Word Count: 171,475 (WIP, not finished) All of the members are gods of different powers and the reader is their guide throughout godhood. Has some good smut!

Tangled by ThisPeachIsDirty (18+) Poly!Ot8 x reader Word Count: 199,549 Reader is a tour photographer for the group and all of them use her to relieve... tension in various ways.

Instinct by fizzydrink698 (18+) Bang Chan x reader Word Count: 53,405 ABO where the reader is an alpha and Chan is the omega, it is definitely one of my fav SKZ ABO fics

Friends with Benefits by starrgaziingg (18+) Lee Know x reader Word Count: 67,847 "Lee Minho is a legacy at your university. He received an honorary award when he graduated, got a position as a dancer in a company a week after receiving his diploma...and was renowned as the schools famous ice-cold fuckboy." SO good

What You Deserve by 2chopsticks2eyes (18+) This is another author that I devour any of their work Lee Know x reader Word Count: 67,284 "You meet your best friend's group from college and find yourself spending more and more time with Minho. Sexual tension ensues." I think I re-read this fic 10 times already One Shots:

Strike the match, burn me down till I'm nothing by lemonhopia (18+) Kim Seungmin x reader Word Count: 5,290 enemies to lovers (sort of) Seungmin is reader's childhood best friend's brother who has been nothing but a thorn in her side since they were little. He's tasked with picking you up from the airport for your best friend's wedding.

conflict, conceal, confess by fizzydrink698 (18+) TBH anything by this author is AMAZING. I stalk their page so often. Lee Know x reader Word Count: 18,239 "minho and reader have been academic rivals for nearly a decade. now they have to put aside their differences, call a truce and finally admit they're ridiculously attracted to each other."

The Duke and I by lordseok (18+) Hwang Hyunjin x reader Word Count: 32,289 Bridgerton AU "Wishing to be a successful writer in the regency period seemed next to impossible for the sole daughter of a dead earl. With arising pressures from your mother to tie the knot, you turn to your dearest friend, Hwang Hyunjin, Duke of Hastings and the most eligible, scandalous bachelor of the season, for assistance. When he suggests the insane of idea of marrying each other to help each other, you agree to the proposal, unaware of how much the duke can teach you of the wonders of matrimony." I. Ate. This. UP. It is SO WELL WRITTEN.

#sunny recs

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

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Lethal Woman- Chapter 7 (Astarion x GN! Reader) MDNI 18+ Only

Synopsis- You and your rag tag team of heroes barely escaped the Githyanki with your lives. You and Astarion grow closer as you learn about each other’s traumas and have a heartfelt conversation about what you both want out of this situation.

CW: Smut, mentions of violence, mentions of SA, mentions of trauma

I put a start and stop for the smut just in case anyone does not want to read it 😀 thank you for reading! I have had posting paralysis and task paralysis for a week so this has been completed for a hot minute now lmao

Chapter Eight

You cough and sputter as you slowly begin to come back to life- your head is throbbing and you hear a familiar voice frantically screaming nearby. The iron, sweet smell of blood hits your nose- Astarion.

It slowly comes back to you now. You had all been running out of the crèche- you, Lae’zel, Astarion, and Karlach- trying to escape the murderous Githyanki (you did demolish their inquisitor so you understand- still sucks though). You had split off from the group with the Blood of Lathander so that they could get to safety faster while you used the weapon to destroy the Monastery and keep the Gith off your tails. You remember the way the magic had moved through the Mace and the blast shaking the ground- the monastery collapsing in on itself.

You had been running away- nearly to safety when the floor beneath your feet gave way. You had felt your heart stop in your chest as you felt gravity begin to pull you down, then something hits you- hard- and you go flying to a more stable part of the floor. Strong, hands wrapped around your arm, pulling you upright, and dragging you behind them in the growing darkness- you barely make out Astarion in the dust. Right before you were going to exit the building- it collapsed in on the two of you- Astarion was on top of you within seconds to shield you from the rocks, then you don’t remember much else.

His blood is in the air- not a lot, but more than you are comfortable with. You sit upright too fast- the world is spinning, but you need to get to him.

Astarion is not that far ahead of you. You survey the room- grateful you were born with Darkvision- and recognize that you are stuck pretty tightly up against the wall where you had found the old rusty Mace. The ceiling had caved in, but the rubble that had fallen first had allowed a tight little room to form- the wall showing the front of the monastery has air coming through it, but it’s pitch black and there is evidently no way out. You have both been buried alive.

Soldier!!!!!! Soldier- I need you to respond. You feel Karlach desperation, Where the fuck are you?

We’re in here! You show her the room and you feel her relief and instant recognition of the area, go get Gale and see if he can’t shrink the rocks down. Wyll should have some smoke powder bombs and please ask Shadowheart how to cast calm for me.

You can feel Karlach befuddlement at the request, Why do you need to cast calm?

Astarion’s feral terrified screams echo through both of your heads as it starts up again. Astarion is slamming his hands against the rocks, cutting into his palms and belligerently begging to be let out.

Got it, Soldier. Karlach’s sadness and worry mirrors your own- not as intense, but it’s there.

Karlach had grown rather fond of Astarion too- they were quick to become friends. Karlach cares for Astarion and you see that in flashes- but you see how her feelings change towards him as Astarion becomes closer with you. She sees ‘undying adoration’ for you in his eyes- you told her there’s no way. You had slept together two weeks ago.

The night after he had asked to meet you again, you agreed, but when you went, he wasn’t present at all. It felt forced and mechanical so you stopped him. Astarion became defensive and has been basically avoiding you ever since.

“Give him a minute, Soldier,” she had reassured you, “maybe you were just that brilliant in bed and he’s resisting the urge to take you all the time.”

“I seriously doubt that, but thanks.”

Another blood curdling scream and Astarion slamming himself against the rocks breaks you from your thoughts.

Tell her I’m having a panic attack. I don’t want Astarion to feel uncomfortable around everyone when we get back.

Roger that.

After Karlach is no longer communicating with you- you cast Faerie Light- illuminating the room in a soft, relaxing glow. Astarion is staring at you- eyes wide with fear and his hands dripping in blood. You slowly walk towards him and he slams himself back against the wall and bares his fangs at you.

You freeze- something in you is saying not to move because that could very well be the end of your life. You don’t think it would be intentional on his part, but it certainly wouldn’t be a fun thing to explain to the group as he pays 200 gold to Withers.

You gently set the light down and take two steps back- giving him more space. You watch as he begins to relax a bit more- his eyes seem more focused. As he begins to relax, he begins to shake and slowly drops to his knees- curling his arms around himself and hiding his face.

The room is not very big- you realize. It’s maybe only the size of a small tent really, but Astarion has told you about Cazador burying him and then being stuck down there for a year. Sometimes Cazador would put him in his tomb for short stints of time. One of the first nights you had spent time together on this journey, Astarion had talked about how grateful he was to know he will never have to be back in his tomb again.

This space must be suffocating him.

You slowly walk towards him making a point of creating some sound for him to know you are coming over. Despite all of Dahlia’s torments, she had been unable to get rid of the parts of you that were reminiscent of your parents. Your father’s kindness and patience persisted; your mother’s brilliance and strong-will had only been hiding under the surface. You also think of Tessa- who gently healed you when she found you bleeding out in an alleyway. The way she had spoken to you- the way she used the Weave to gently bring the skin back together. You had never felt more cared for in your life- more seen.

What if that would help Astarion right now?

Astarion is shaking and sobbing silently- his hands are bleeding while he tries desperately to keep them still again. His nails are cracked, chipped, bloody, and raw.

You are going to kill Cazador Szarr if it’s the last thing you do- you are going to torment him until he feels as afraid as he has made Astarion feel for the last 200 years.

At one point in your life- you had wanted to be a healer. You find it ironic that you are an assassin instead and Astarion just so happens to need both.

You know basic healing magic- enough for this at the very least.

“Star,” your words are barely a whisper, “would it be okay if I healed your hands?”

You wait for what feels like an eternity and then he holds out one of his hands to you, the other one still wrapped around his legs.

You begin to work, slowly using the magic to stitch the wounds together like Tessa had shown you. You find yourself remembering your mother singing Drow lullabies to you in the Mine when you were afraid. You would do the same for her after she had spent countless hours pleasuring horrible men. You would sing the songs to her in Undercommon as she had taught you to.

Absentmindedly, you begin to sing a lullaby under your breath as your hands gently caress his wounds closed.

When I was only, only a boy,

I saw my mother cry.

You turn over his hand and press a soft kiss to the back of it when you are finished and then guide it back to his leg- like Tessa had done for you. You gently coax his other hand into yours and begin tracing the cuts, erasing the bruises, wiping away the blood.

The time had come to pay for her sins,

The price, my friend, was I.

You don’t notice how Astarion is staring at you- watching you with so much intensity and adoration. No one has ever touched him this softly, been so patient and understanding, or extinguished his anxiety like this before. Your voice is soft and sweet. He recognizes the language and the song- Sins of the Mother, one of the old Drow lullabies.

A nest of flowers covers the place,

Where in the ground I lie.

You survey the other hand- satisfied with your work, but begin tracing the lines of his hands.

Now I'm a pile of lonely old bones,

A thousand years gone by.

You are done tracing the lines of his hand by the time you finish the song and when you go to release it, he pulls you into him by the wrist- placing you on his lap. You are stiff because it wasn’t expected, but you caress his silvery blonde locks and let him put his ear to your chest.

“Sins of the Mother,” he whispers.

You hum in acknowledgment through pursed lips.

“It’s morbid, but it’s my favorite,” you admit, “Descent to Light is fine and all, but I stopped feeling inclined to sing it when my mother died.”

“Descent to Light is beautiful, but unrealistic,” Astarion regards you for a second before saying, “I think Sins of the Mother might be my favorite too.”

As long as you are the one singing it.

You don’t think he meant to share that thought with you, but you blush all the same.

You both sit there for what feels like seconds, but is probably more like 15 minutes just in silence. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his around your torso. Your legs are entangled as you sit in his lap and you continue to play with his hair. Astarion sighs in pleasure every so often- inhaling deeply.

“I’m sor-,” he begins to say and you cut him off with a chaste kiss. Astarion looks at you with surprise- the look on your face tells him you are equally as shocked at your actions.

You had only slept together two weeks ago and HE HAS BEEN AVOIDING YOU SINCE! What are you doing!?

YOU PSYCHO! You think, mentally face palming, but you decide to just roll with it like you actually have some confidence.

“I don’t want to hear it- you have nothing and I mean nothing to be sorry for Star,” you say with intensity, looking directly at him, “Cazador did unspeakable, horrific things to you- I will help you make him pay and I will never, ever allow him to touch you, speak to you, or even perceive you without me by your side ready to help hold him down so you can destroy him- do you understand? I promise you- I will not rest until that man ceases to exist.”

Astarion is looking at you, tears streaming down his face. His expression is open and vulnerable- for the first time, you see all the pain that he has experienced over the last 200 years. You gently rub your thumbs along his cheekbones, wiping away the tears while fighting your own.

“He will never touch you again, Astarion,” you say with a promise of vengeance to come, a finality “I vow to destroy him before he’s even able to try..”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You and Astarion had been rescued hours earlier by Gale, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Wyll- all collectively throwing or destroying the rocks holding you both captive in the ruined monastery.

You are sitting by the fire- laughing with Karlach and Wyll while Astarion turns over everything you said to him in that hellish situation.

Astarion can feel the panic begin to bubble in his chest again when he thinks about when he realized you were both trapped. He was worried for himself, but he had been even more terrified for you. Astarion had only wanted to keep you from dying- not bury you alive with him. Then he spiraled.

Admittedly, he had almost lost all of his wits- barely grasping to the idea that you were there with him and he was not in his tomb- or the kennels. It didn’t matter though- Astarion had felt his brain snap into a billion pieces and he remembers watching himself snarl at you- afraid he might hurt you, but too terrified of the situation to care.

You had responded to his reaction- not in fear, but understanding. You went back a few steps until he had sat down- head between his legs and a sobbing mess.

You came to him- asked permission before you healed his hands and sung a lullaby. Held him while he sobbed and promised him that Cazador would never touch him again or at the very least, Cazador won’t survive very long if he tries. You were there for him without anything in return- Astarion had been avoiding you for the last two weeks because of how confusing his feelings towards you are now.

You sat together and talked around the campfire every night, but he knows you have noticed him slip his facade back on and he doesn’t know whether to take it back off or not.

Astarion wants to have sex with you again, but he also doesn’t want you to only see him as sex which is confusing because that was sort of the point of the plan. Astarion would provide you with irreplaceable pleasure and you would provide him with protection- good sex can be hard to find so that’s the most valuable thing he has to offer. Except he doesn’t want it to be transactional anymore, Astarion wants it to be a way he connects with you intimately- a way to worship you. Astarion makes himself ill with the thought- what the hells is happening to him!? He has only slept with you once!

He also isn’t entirely sure if that icky feeling will ever go away from him- despite how much he enjoys being intimate with you. It’s different with you and it feels more like how old writers describe the activity- a collision of two souls combining to feel like one. Then he remembers what Cazador has made him for- casual sex, prostitution. Astarion wonders if you feel the same and maybe that’s why he’s over here in front of his tent instead of next to you at the campfire- agonizing over wanting to be near you, but also too scared to know if you also see him the way Cazador does.

Today gave him a strong, happy feeling that you don’t and maybe there is some hope there. Maybe Astarion can have more out of this life than he thought he could.

Astarion is being pulled towards you, lost in your orbit, abandoning his book and his spot in front of his tent altogether. Astarion is hopelessly needy for your presence right now.

Suddenly, he’s awkwardly standing behind you looking at the seat next to you- unsure of how to ask if he can sit. Karlach finally pipes up- looking at him with amusement and holds up her bottle of alcohol.

“Hey Fangs!” She says loudly, “come to join the party?”

You whip around and look up at him- your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and you pat the spot next to you. He can’t help but smile as he sits. Karlach wiggles her eyebrows at you and you throw a roll at her- she cackles as the roll hits her and immediately crisps.

“That’s just a waste of food, Soldier,” Karlach says with exaggeration and a victorious laugh, “GALE! Our fearless leader is ruining your food!”

A distant scream is heard and gets louder as Gale comes storming over, exasperated, “EXCUSE ME!?”

You feign distress, “I know- how thoughtless of me! I just wanted to toast a nice roll to go with my wine.”

“I’ve been reduced to nothing but an oven,” Karlach fake cries and you keel over laughing.

Astarion is a bit jealous of Karlach to some extent. He knows there isn’t a romantic interest there, but if you weren’t with Astarion, you were sleeping in Karlach’s tent. Far apart (he had checked), but still. You often went hunting together, exploring together, and have lots of inside jokes. He is jealous of the emotional intimacy you guys share because he knows you share that with him too. He likes Karlach- so at least she isn’t the worst to share with.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel are very close to you as well, but Karlach is the one Astarion knows he is sharing your heart with. You love her as if she is your own kin.

“I wonder,” you say with a slur, “how hard would it be to kill Zariel or Mizora?”

Wyll rolls his eyes and laughs at your question, “why? Do you plan on storming the Hells and releasing us from our chains?”

Astarion wasn’t surprised when Wyll warmed up to you. You had been kind to him when he was changed into a fiend. You understood that his reasoning for taking the contract was personal- Wyll had briefly mentioned his family. Anyone- Astarion included- who tried to make a jab at Wyll was scolded by you. Now that he knows more about your family, he is less bitter about it and you also rip Will a new one (with much more anger, in fact) when he insults Astarion. When Wyll had made a jab at him and brought up eating rats- you had pushed Wyll into the river in the Owlbear cave and right into a disgusting bit of Owlbear waste floating on the bank. Wyll makes lots of jokes about Astarion, but he has never mentioned the rats again.

You shrug, “why not? I have favors to cash in from Obhark anyway- might as well put them to good use. It’s not like I’ll be doing anything other than working after all of this is over anyhow. The Hells might be an interesting vacation prospect.”

“Or you could leave the Nightmasks and we could all just travel together forever!” Karlach exclaims.

You shake your head at her sadly, “No one leaves the Nightmasks.”

“How come?” Wyll asks, “if you don’t mind sharing some?”

You raise an eyebrow at Wyll and take a long sip from your bottle of wine before passing it to Astarion. Astarion watches your every move- hangs on your every word.

“Well Mr.Monster Hunter,” you tease, “any time someone attempts to permanently leave the Nightmasks, Obhark- the Faceless- calls for a hunt with a boon- a favor that you can cash in at any point- provided it’s reasonable.”

“In what world do Master Vampires give out boons?” Astarion finds his voice again, bewildered.

“Good question, wish I could answer it for ya” you state with a shrug, “he’s had a hold on Westgate for centuries. Although I work for him- I’m not particularly fond of him. He’s horrible to his consort- my Ward. He beats her, rapes her, etc. Swears up, down, left, right, and sideways that he loves her and he buys her fancy things, but….”

You shake your head before continuing, “anyway- if you are the one who kills the individual- you win the boon. He always does that for the ‘suicide mission’ contracts. Obhark will offer them for other types of contracts- sometimes easy ones- if the need is urgent enough. Outside of the Deathbringers- the assassins and thieves rarely participate due to how dangerous these contracts usually are.”

“How many do you have, Soldier,” Karlach muses, “ten? Twenty?”

You pause and you look slightly uncomfortable, “I have 110.”

The silence is extremely thick in the air. All Astarion thinks about is that there was 110 times possibilities that he almost never got to meet you.

“Dahlia started making me take those contracts the minute I became a Deathbringer,” you look at your feet, “I have a 100 percent success rate- obviously.”

Karlach seems to understand that you don’t want to go further on that particular part so she interjects before Wyll can ask more questions.

“Do you have any friends or do you all hate each other’s guts?”

You snort, “I suppose you could call them ‘friends’. Everus is a human shade who steals my shit all the time, breaks into my home, and then wonders why I don’t have anything there. Then there’s Lucia who’s been with the guild for 500 years give or take. She trained me after I became a Deathbringer. Ghost is… the weirdest of them all. He is some sickly man who has a ring of regeneration, but he’ll go from one corpse to the next and just use those to fight. Draegan is a fucking asshole who refuses to leave me alone and likes to show off more than he likes living. I hate when we are assigned stuff together- it’s usually me fixing every fuck up he’s made while trying to drag his half alive body away and keep myself alive.

“There are others like Rinara who I just don’t fucking like on principle alone- too murder happy. I’m the oddball- I actually don’t enjoy killing people for fun. I’m,” you put the next part in quotes, “too ethical.”

“They sound like an…. Eclectic group.” Wyll says with his eyebrow raised, “and if you don’t like killing, why are you there?”

You simply shrug and look up at the stars.

“You don’t always get a choice- I feel like you know that as well as I do.”

Wyll nods in agreement and gives you an empathetic look. Astarion just takes you in- watching the fire flickering across your face- kissing every corner of your skin. He’s never been so jealous of a campfire- he wants to be the one memorizing your skin and tracing your features.

Karlach interjects, “I’m still held up on the whole- ‘House’ thing. You have a house!?”

You, for whatever reason, look incredibly uncomfortable with the question, but you smile at Karlach anyway.

“Yeah, just a townhome in Baldur’s Gate. It’s in the Upper City, but I’m never there so I usually just pay whatever and if I end up in Baldur’s gate I’ll stay there,” you shrug your shoulders, “I was going to sell it after my last contract but I was very rudely interrupted by Mindflayers.”

“Why would you sell it!?”

Karlach is bewildered and admittedly so is Astarion. Upper city Townhomes are beautiful- he used to wonder what it would be like to own one or even just walk into one. Astarion wonders if he’s ever walked by your town home while you were there- did your paths ever unknowingly cross?

“Um well,” you pick at your nails, one of them bleeding as you rip it off, “I bought it because my late girlfriend had really wanted to move there after I had a bit more freedom, but evidently, it didn't last very long. She was the artistic one in the relationship so I only have a mattress in the damn place. I thought buying it might bring some part of her back, but it was a stupid thought.”

This is the third time Astarion has encountered Tessa in a conversation with you. You barely bring her up and if he tries to lead you in that direction- you pivot and shut down. He knows what your last image of her was.

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Karlach says softly, “what happened to her?”

“ I was allowed to be with her, but it came with extra curricular torture activities,” you clear your throat, Astarion winces at the defeat in your voice, “My ‘mentor’ had one of her assassin’s kill her. It was brutal. Dahlia gave me a fake contract in the same sewer system she lured Tessa to. I heard her screaming and I was the one who-“ you take a shaky breath, “found her. I- I don’t really care to talk about it much. It was halfway my fault- I should have been keeping a closer eye on her. She was trying to blackmail Dahlia so I didn’t have to join the Nightmasks because if you are unwilling- they’ll release you. It’s the only chance you have of getting out alive if someone tries to force you into it- the Nightmasks don’t want to have the reputation that you have to be forced to join. I was just too terrified of Dahlia to say anything so Tessa took matters into her own hands and well, she’s dead so how well did that really turn out- truly?”

You try to laugh it off and Astarion watches one stray tear roll down your face as you take another swig from the bottle. In what world could that be your fault? Astarion doesn’t blame Tessa for trying- if he was in her shoes, he would have probably ended up doing the same thing. Especially knowing how cruel Dahlia is.

“I met her close to the end of my first year living with Dahlia,” you smile softly to yourself, “she worked in her family's local Alchemy shop that Dahlia would send me to while training at a local Warlock guild. I was horrifically smitten and she knew it too. She used to hit on me every time and I would just grab my stuff- turn around and race out of the shop,” your laugh is melancholic, “then she found me bleeding out in an alleyway one time and she somehow was able to get me into her dorm, took care of me, and when I woke up the next morning- I panicked and left.

“I felt a bit bad- Dahlia was not thrilled so I disappeared for a few days,” you say slowly, Astarion knows what probably happened during those three days, “then when I was sent back to the Alchemy shop a week later- I brought this giant bundle of wildflowers. I grabbed every one I could find that even remotely reminded me of her and I don’t know? I guess it just evolved? She always wanted to move to Baldur’s Gate- she’d talk about how beautiful our townhome would be and she had all these plans. I could have given a shit less as long as she was there.”

“Look at you, Soldier!” Karlach exclaims, “how romantic of you! First flowers and then a whole ass townhome? I wish I had met you a few years prior to Gortash selling me off!”

“Oh shut your mouth, it’s not like it was a big deal,” You are bright, bright red and you scoff, “I had just overheard her complain to her sister that all the ‘suitors’ brought her ‘normal’ flowers and she felt like it was lazy. I merely went for a stroll- it wasn’t that hard so I don’t know why they never got the hint. She wasn’t necessarily quiet about it, but she also told me later she had been so loud about it because she was hoping I might listen and do something with that information.”

You are shaking your head and smiling in spite of yourself. He is going to have to add ‘Romantic’ and ‘Thoughtful’ to the list of personality traits you harbor. Astarion is trying to ignore his thoughts wondering which flowers would remind you of him.

“At any rate-“ Wyll says, “at least you now have a few reasons to visit Baldur’s Gate more often now?”

You are practically beaming, “this is true!”

You sigh and look up at the stars with a sad smile, “who knows- maybe I’ll change my mind. There is like four bedrooms so-“

“CAN I MOVE IN WITH YOU!?” Karlach bursts, “if I don’t, ya know, combust.”

You smile brightly at the question, “you can, but I can’t promise Everus won’t try to steal your shit. You are welcome to light him on fire if he does. Fucking asshole keeps stealing my produce at the compound- haven’t caught him yet, but when I do it’s game over for him.”

It’s the most bizarre complaint to have if you live amongst a group of feared Assassins, thieves, and vampire generals. Astarion catches how Wyll looks over at Karlach with hope and smiles- appearing to be thrilled that she asked you to let her stay with you in Baldur’s Gate. Wyll is smitten and from the look on your face when you look between the two of them- you see it too. Karlach glances at Wyll and looks at you shyly.

Adorable, Astarion thinks sarcastically, they’ll be a real joy to live with when this is all over.

He freezes. What did he just think?

Astarion doesn’t know why he’s automatically assuming you’ll be gracious enough to let him live with you when this is all said and done. Why is he already imagining exactly how he would decorate the damn place? You had bought the apartment 5 years prior to him to resurrect the memory of a dead ex-girlfriend and he’s more than likely a fleeting fancy until you realize someone like (and he hates to admit it) Gale or Shadowheart would be a more appropriate choice of long term partner than him. Astarion has managed to inflate and then immediately deflate himself- hope is a fickle thing.

Wyll and Karlach get up, saying they need to go clean their armor, leaving the two of you sitting in silence. Astarion feels like he’s about to start unraveling at the seams being with you alone- it’s like he wants to weave himself into your bones so that he never has to know what it feels like to be without you again.

Today has been… a bit eye opening for him and he is trying to resist the urge to push you away despite how freaked out he feels about his very very strong feelings of adoration for you. Astarion does have a plan to execute (or so he keeps telling himself) and he’s about 2 weeks behind.

“You could live with me too you know,” you say in a whisper, “ I get plenty of contracts in lots of places that make a hefty amount of coin. Silverymoon, St. Carwell’s Vale- they have a pirate cove nearby and they are very fun to drink with or so I’ve been told, there’s the merchants in Melavunt on the Moonsea, Menzoberranzan…”

You look at him coyly, he wants to kiss the look of fear and anticipation of rejection off your face.

“I guess what I’m saying is that I would split the money with you and you could travel the world without any real obligation. With me? If you wanted! That is… or by yourself. I mean the Nightmasks could always use more talented Thieves… wouldn’t be my first recommendation though.”

“Darling, I would love nothing more than to steal from every person in Westgate with you,” Astarion smiles glumly, “but I don’t know how good of a travel companion I’ll be if we can’t be out during the day.”

“I’m not worried about that,” you state matter of factly, “you forget that I’m an excellent assassin and I also happen to know the location for a Ring of the Sunwalker. I have more than enough ‘boons’ to try to haggle for it or at least commission the creation of a new one. If that doesn’t work- I have too much money in the bank anyhow and some favors in different cities.”

Astarion is trying not to gape at you. You’ve just offered him an opportunity to travel around the world, make money, a place to live, and a way to be in the sun when this is all over. Not to mention- you. You are extending him an invitation to remain by your side.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you say quietly, rubbing your arm awkwardly, “either way, I’m still going to get that ring for you. It’s not right that we are basically going to save the world and you can’t even keep the whole walking in the sun thing.”

“Why? I-“ he starts, “I don’t deserve any of this. What you are offering me is… an enormous debt that I could never repay.”

“You wouldn’t have to repay me and you do deserve it. You deserve the world, Astarion,” you swallow thickly before you look him in the eyes, “I would just be happy to have you there. I enjoy fighting with you and spending time with you- I feel safe for the first time in a long time…And besides, I need someone to rough up some pirates with. I’ve been itching to go, but I wouldn’t even know how to fit in.”

Astarion smiles widely and flashes you a flirtatious look,” I don’t know if you heard, Darling, but I’m an incredibly charismatic rogue with a love for pickpocketing.”

He leans in closer until his lips are barely touching yours- he relishes in the way your breath catches. Astarion basks in what your future together would look like and he lets himself hope for the first time in a long time. Every part of his being wants him to run and not trust you, but your eyes won’t let him go.

“And you,” he breathes, “are the most bewitching individual I have ever met with an incredible prowess for killing. I think we’ll fit right in.”

“I suppose you are right,” you whisper, lips hovering over his, “how silly of me to assume we would need help fitting in.”

“Truly a mistake on your part, Darling.”

“Quite the blunder indeed.”

Astarion presses his lips against yours, gently tangling his hands in your hair to pull you closer- making it more intense and needy. The fire doesn’t begin to compare to the way his body feels when he is with you like this. He doesn’t know how your lips move in sync with his as if the two of you have been exchanging kisses with each other your entire lives.

Time doesn’t feel like it exists right now and that scares him. He feels like he could melt into you and continue to just have you this way for the rest of his immortal li-

“ASTARION AND ROWAN- SITTING IN A TREE!K— I-!”

Nevermind- moment ruined.

“KARLACH!!!!!”

You are up and sprinting after her at a breathtaking speed- a new bread roll in your hand. Karlach is running away with her cackle being carried in the wind.

The entire rest of the camp is staring at Astarion like he’s grown an extra head in the last two seconds. He smiles and waves awkwardly, “Uh hello.”

What in the damn hells is happening? When did he become some shy, smitten school boy!?

“I knew it!” Halsin exclaims with a belly laugh, “ha! The eyes can never truly hide what the soul desires!”

Oh Gods- he might have made a mistake not asking you to just go with him to his tent. Is this how those gross couples in Baldur’s Gate end up in these situations? You just get lost in the fucking moment and the whole world gets to see it?

Lae’zel scoffs, “tsk, if this is going to become a thing- keep your bizarre mating rituals inside your tent.”

Astarion has to fight hard to shove the embarrassment down and puts on his suave facade.

“Oh please, Lae’zel,” Astarion drawls, leaning back on the heels of his hand, “ if you are jealous of me, just say so.”

Lae’zel throws the sword she’s sharpening to the ground and storms off in the opposite direction of Astarion. Maybe he hit the nail on the head a little too hard.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Karlach are laying in Karlach’s tent- giggly, drunk, and stupid (Lae’zel isn’t giggly or stupid, but she certainly isn’t sober). You had come back to camp and Shadowheart told you that Astarion had run off looking embarrassed after you left. Apparently Lae’zel and Halsin had given him a hard time.

“Tsk, if the spawn cannot be proud of his affections for you then he does not deserve it at all.”

You are burning red, “he does not have ‘affections’ for me Lae’zel!”

“Well whatever he is feeling,” Shadowheart quips, “it’s pretty damn close. He looks at you like you are some kind of walking Goddess in physical form.”

“You guys need to stop,” you pretend to be serious, but you are so giddy at the idea of him being as smitten with you as you are him. Astarion is beautiful in every way- even when he is being a pill.

“No way Soldier,” Karlach clicks her tongue, “I thought I might explode watching the way he kissed you. I wanted to switch places with you even!”

It was a beautiful kiss. You want more time doing that- you don’t care if it goes further nor do you need it to- the feeling of his lips on yours is enough.

“Have you guys…” Shadowheart flashes you a mischievous smile, “had sex yet?”

Your reaction must have been enough because Karlach cheers and Shadowheart looks slightly crestfallen.

“I told you Shadowheart!”

“I’m in shock! I thought I knew them better than that,” Shadowheart sighs, “but you must tell us- what was it like? How was it compared to previous experiences?”

You don’t want to tell Shadowheart that this was your first time having consensual intercourse. You and Tessa had begun fooling around towards the end, but it was cut short before it could go further.

“He was very gentle,” you whisper in embarrassment and dream like bliss, “and caring. It was… amazing.”

Karlach and Shadowheart are chattering excitedly, talking about all the cute underwear you are going to need to buy in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel continues to scoff- she doesn’t understand the reasoning behind spending so much money on fabric when the ‘Spawn’ will probably tear them off anyway. You have to redirect yourself from the thought- you do not need to be turned on right now.

Besides- you are still entirely unsure if he is even in the same headspace as you. Shadowheart did inform you when you first came into camp that Astarion is a flirt and that they had had a very wonderful make out session together the first night of camp. Shadowheart had disliked you for a bit when Astarion’s attentions turned elsewhere, but the whole thing had disappeared. Well until now.

“He really is an incredible kisser,” Shadowheart reminisces, “with everything his hands can do over clothing- Shar help me- I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have him touch you naked. I’ve been with men like him a few times- it can get incredibly kinky and never boring. It is a shame that he and I didn’t mesh as well to begin with. Maybe I should try again- I mean who knows, it would give us something fun to share.”

“He’s not a thing to share, Shadowheart,” you say tersely, “and I wouldn’t be open to that, ever.”

Shadowheart’s smile falters for a moment. You realize that she had expected you to be open to the idea.

“He might and I’ll be here. Men like him get bored of the same old thing eventually,” Shadowheart waves her hand around non-chalantly.

Karlach notices you wince and she holds your hand in hers- giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. Shadowheart has been in a particularly foul mood since Astarion kissed you earlier in the day. Ever since, she’s been piss drunk and pointing out everything you have ever told her you were insecure about. You are grateful you didn’t tell her Astarion was your first.

You know Shadowheart is drunk, but it still worries you. Astarion is not an object to share, he is a person, but you also know that Shadowheart is beautiful and well versed in sex.

Astarion is also beautiful and well versed in sex.

You are not.

Karlach knows that the Shadowheart thing is somewhat of a sore spot- not because you wouldn’t be happy for them, but because she is so much more- well everything- than you could ever dream to be.

She is also brilliant to look at with her raven hair and blue eyes. Smart, tough, and fluid- cool girl. There isn’t a single scar anywhere but on her cheek and she doesn’t even remember her past so he wouldn’t have to be so accommodating.

I can see you going there, Soldier. She’s just drunk and jealous.

You and Karlach had ultimately come to the conclusion the third week into this journey that Astarion’s flirting towards you was genuine and that he did not seem to have eyes for Shadowheart. Karlach insisted that you spy on their interactions (there hadn’t been a single one and it was a waste of a rest day). You always wonder though when she makes comments like this- Karlach and Astarion being the only two to know you were a virgin up until 2 weeks ago.

“Soldier and I are going to go get more beverages,” Karlach announces, “we shall be back with the goods!”

You follow Karlach out of the tent and she grabs a third of a bottle of whiskey out of her bag- sitting next to the campfire and taking a sip. She pats the spot next to her and she offers you the Whiskey. You take a massive sip- trying to avoid becoming emotional over your frustration and self-loathing.

“I really like him,” you whisper.

“I know Soldier,” Karlach says empathetically, “Shadowheart doesn’t always seem to read the room very well. She is right though- he does watch you flutter about camp and stare at you as if you are a Goddess to be worshipped.”

You roll your eyes at her, “first of all, I don’t ‘flutter’ about anywhere. Second- she has history with him, barely, but enough for her to be pissed. Third- the man has literally avoided being alone with me for the last two weeks!”

Karlach snorts, “oh please. You want to know why he’s avoiding you? From quite literally everyone else’s perspective in camp.”

“Fine,” you huff.

Karlach takes another big swig from her whiskey and passes it back to you.

“Astarion isn’t a feelings guy- he’s a total flirt and to some extent, not overly trustworthy,” Karlach says, “but today? I had tried to hold him back when he went running to get to you. I didn’t know he knew misty step, but it didn't matter- the way he screamed your name when we all saw you start to fall was haunting. I think his feelings for you are just too… overwhelming and confusing for him to navigate. He refuses to leave your side- no matter how pissed off he may be. Hells- that little lover’s quarrel you had at camp that one day looked like it derailed him entirely. Three whole days he was constantly in the background trying to make sure you were safe. I was shocked you didn’t notice- not even once.

“ You are also the only one in camp he actually keeps his word to or does things for and it’s not with a hidden meaning either- I mean you had to have noticed that almost anything you even so much as mention needing you suddenly have. At first all the studying seemed methodical, but it’s changed.”

“I didn’t realize that’s who was getting or doing that stuff,” you say with relief and realization. You thought you were going crazy- did you always have this stuff? Did all of your stuff always have a lack of holes?

“To be fair, I just figured it out because we were stuck at camp together the other day. He must have heard me chastising you for your sleeping accommodations because before I know it- he’s in my tent, telling me not to say anything- embarrassed mind you, and stitched up all the holes in that Gods awful bed roll of yours,” Karlach chuckles to herself, “He wants you just as much as you want him.”

You stare at her as you try to believe her words. You want to believe them, but you are far too scared to. You have been avoiding people- blaming it on Dahlia despite being free of her for almost a year. You know it’s because you don’t know if you are good enough.

Karlach gets up and yanks you up onto your feet and out of your mind- earning a yelp from you from the contact. She lets go of you and offers a sheepish smile.

“Now go, my short but mighty friend,” Karlach says with bravado, handing you the bottle of whiskey, “do not be without any further!”

You leave the campfire (giving Karlach a brief fist bump) and walk to the opposite side of the camp where Astarion’s tent is. Just as you are about to knock on the wooden post, he opens his flap with a knife in hand that he is inspecting. Astarion looks surprised to see you.

Astarion recovers his composure, “hello, Darling! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh um- I,” you stammer and ultimately don’t know what to say, “I didn’t realize you were leaving- I can go and-“

“No- stay!” Astarion says quickly, grabbing your wrist as you go to turn around, “I was just going to sit by the fire anyway.”

Where Karlach and I are were? You fight the smile threatening to form on your lips, Convenient timing.

You look at him shyly, “well we could still go sit by the campfire if you want?”

“After today’s events?” Astarion scowls playfully, taking your hand, “I would much rather be able to focus all my attentions on you and not everyone gawking.”

Before you can say anything, Astarion pulls you into his tent and closes the flap. Astarion is fidgeting with his blanket and bedroll before gently guiding you to lay down on them. He looks at you with an awkward, anxious smile gracing his lips. You suppress the giggle that threatens to escape your lips- you are happy that he seems just as nervous as you are.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion lays down next to you and you cautiously curl yourself into his side with your head on his chest- your left arm and leg draped across him as your head lays where his quiet heart lies. Your happy sigh fills him with joy. Astarion traces circles on your back- enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

Astarion waits for you to pull at his clothes, seduce him, or at the very least ask him to fuck you. You don’t though. You lay there, unmoving and content. Weird.

“So- four whole bedrooms?” Astarion ponders out loud, “and you only have a mattress?”

You grumble, “I knew that was going to be brought up.”

“Darling, it’s a town home in the upper city and you only have a mattress! Of course it was going to be brought up!”

“It was the only one for sale- there wasn’t anything small anywhere. I checked at least a half a dozen times,” you grimace, “but I needed somewhere and I didn’t want to set up a permanent residence in Westgate so I just bought the damn place.”

“Where were you planning on moving?” Astarion inquires, “since you were visiting with the intentions of selling it?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure,” you say dreamily, “I was thinking of Neverwinter, Iceland Dales, Silverymoon, Waterdeep, Menzoberranzan, or maybe a short stint in Candlekeep. I can’t read common, but I would love to be able to explore their library. I’m sure they have something in Undercommon that I can read.”

“Those are all wildly different locations and climates, my Dear,” he says teasingly while placing a kiss on top of your head without thinking.

You shrug, “I’m just very complex.”

“And apparently travel a lot.”

“I try not to make it a habit of staying in the same place too long. Eventually the loneliness in a familiar place loses its novelty,” you sigh, “I just do whatever work is around the area until I get a contract. Typically I get up and leave after that then start the process over somewhere else.”

“What kind of work in the area?” Astarion says while absentmindedly untangling your hair with his lithe fingers.

“Farm work, guard duty, hunting,” you hmmm as you think, “head hunting, cleaning and bartending depending on if I am able to get a job at a local inn.”

Astarion busts up laughing at the idea of you of all people being a bartender. You hate being perceived- let alone talked to by strangers. You would have easily been Cazador’s worst nightmare.

“What’s so funny!?” You exclaim, keeping your lips in a serious line.

“Oh nothing, Darling,” Astarion quips, “I can’t even begin to imagine you as a bartender.”

You prop yourself up to look at him- you are frowning.

“How so?”

“Darling,” he says snickering, “you looked like you were going to have a homicidal meltdown when that man at the Grove ‘looked at you funny’. You quite literally scared the piss out of him.”

“Because he looked at me funny! Lae’zel agreed.”

“Oh yes,” Astarion says while rolling his eyes, “because Lae’zel is the most reliable judge of social situations.”

“I happen to think she’s the best- I mean you saw how well the crèche went today, right?”

“Sometimes I forget that narrowly escaping death is your definition of ‘well’.”

You shrug, sitting up briefly to take a sip out of the open bottle of whiskey.

“I have relatively low standards when it comes to fighting Githyanki.”

“Ah,” he huffs in acknowledgement, “I forgot- Whalebone Spice blood. I suppose they weren’t necessarily the most attractive creatures to begin with, but to taste like that? How embarrassing.”

You are midswig of alcohol when you begin to snort from laughter and proceed to choke so hard on the whiskey that some of it sprays from your mouth and onto Astarion’s shirt. You are absolutely mortified and you cover your face with your hands, slowly getting up. Astarion doesn’t know whether to be upset or not, but he doesn’t feel like upset is the most accurate term for what he is feeling.

Your embarrassment is way too adorable. Painfully adorable and Astarion would be a fool not to take advantage of the moment.

“Well, on that note,” you keep your face covered, “I should be goi-“

“Oh no you don’t,” Astarion says teasingly, pulling your hands away from your face, “you owe me for this one.”

The mischievous glint in his eye tells you he is up to absolutely no good.

“Oh? And what do you feel I owe you?”

“Hmmmm, well Darling,” Astarion says, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “help cleaning off would be greatly appreciated.”

Your eyes go wide and Astarion playfully pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. A beautiful, whimpering moan escapes your lips and he smiles cheekily. He cherishes the moments when he can make you speechless instead of the other way around.

“Okay,” you say breathily.

“Okay?” Astarion teases, “I’ve never had a more enthusiastic lover.”

Astarion has to fight the smile when you grow an even darker shade of red at the title.

*smut starts here*

“I-I’m sorry-“ you say, looking down at your feet and rubbing your arm shyly, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what ‘helping’ you clean up entails soooo…”

“Well we have established that you do know how sex works, Darling,” Astarion says with a smirk, “but I suppose I could show you again…”

*smut starts here*

Astarion’s fingers dance along the hem of your shirt- pulling it off you in one swift movement. Astarion kisses the junction between your shoulder and your neck, taking a quick nip at the skin before pulling away.

“Typically,” he whispers, “you want to start with the offending articles of clothing- which for you, my Sweet- is anything that prevents me from seeing that beautiful body of yours.”

“Ast-“

“Ah,” Astarion cups your jaw with one of his hands and puts his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, “I need you to be quiet, Darling. I’m trying to focus- you do want to learn, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly and he rewards you by pushing your thighs apart with his leg before rubbing it against your clothed heat. Your heart galloping and the smell of your arousal is making Astarion feel like he may go into a frenzy if he doesn’t get to have you soon.

He pushes the gross feelings down- hard- trying to prevent dissociation or at least obvious dissociation.

You wouldn’t go through with it if he didn’t seem to be having a good time and Astarion isn’t ready to have the, “surprise! I’m a prostitute against my own free will and I’ve been using my craft to make you like me, but now I’m horribly confused!” Conversation.

Astarion is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels your tongue glide along the ridge of his thumb before you nick his thumb with one of your canines. Your tongue flicks out to lap at the pin prick of a wound, but it must have been enough because your pupils are blown even wider now with lust and need. Astarion didn’t expect such a simple little action to rile him up so much, but he’s hardly done anything to you and his cock is straining against his pants.

“Cheeky pup,” Astarion praises, “you are full of surprises aren’t you?”

Astarion practically rips your pants off, taking his thumb out of your mouth, but making a point of drawing more blood- soaking in your wanting moans as his blood coats your tongue- as he teases your folds through your underwear before slowly slipping his fingers in between your legs while rubbing your clit with his thumb. Astarion’s plan to continue teasing you quickly dissolves when he adds a second finger, you begin to writhe and beg for him to take you underneath him. Astarion has you right where he wants you and yet he does not feel like he’s the one in control in this situation. You are like an addiction he can’t kick and he is excited to actually be excited about sex for once.

You are helping him hastily and messily remove his clothes- Astarion is caught up in the desperation to be inside you that he flips you onto your stomach- not thinking. You stiffen underneath him with a sharp breath and he snaps out of whatever lustful haze he is in.

It had been too aggressive of a movement- far too similar to your trauma.

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, turning you back over and you are looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

His heart shatters- Astarion wants you to feel safe with him and he just threw your trust away. He is so nervous as he takes in your facial expressions.

“I- it’s okay,” you say, trying to smile through the panic, “I just wasn’t expecting it was all. I trust you- I want to try.”

Astarion searches your eyes- he feels his brows furrowing and his face being consumed with the worry he is feeling.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, stroking your cheek and leaving soft kisses along your jaw, “we can do whatever you want, Darling. It’s just a privilege to be with you.”

It’s true- Astarion knows deep down that if he had met you in Baldur’s Gate that he would have begrudgingly taken you back to Cazador to become his meal. He is glad that is not the context you met each other in.

“I’m sure Star,” you gently tangle your hands behind his neck, you sigh into his shoulder,“I trust you and I know you won’t hurt me.”

Astarion works his way up until he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. When the hell did he become an affectionate lover?

“Thank you, Darling,” Astarion says breathily, “you can’t even begin to imagine how much that means to me.”

You allow him to help you flip back over- still wet and wanting from the earlier activities. Astarion positions you in front of the mirror on the opposite side of his tent- he’s not as hard as he was prior to the incident, but the look on your face changes that entirely as he slowly presses inside you.

Pure, carnal desire and pleasure- he groans at how your walls clench around him. Your hands are digging into the fabric of his bed roll and you are practically panting with lust as you adjust to him- yelping blissfully when he pulls back and snaps his hips into yours. Astarion wishes he could actually watch himself doing this to you, but he’s still thrilled by all of your reactions- each one earning a harder, faster thrust from Astarion each time.

You are crying out in pleasure- fighting to not collapse. You are looking at where he would be in the mirror and Gods is he grateful you are. Astarion feels your legs violently shaking as you release around him- your eyes fluttering as you ride out your orgasm. He gently pulls you flush against him by your hair, moving his left arm between the junction of your breasts to hold you in place, and bares you to himself in the mirror.

Your breasts are perfect- nipples hard and sensitive from the cool night air and arousal. Your orgasm is dripping between your legs- where you are taking him so well. You look absolutely euphoric and perfect this way. He traces the lines of your scars up to your breasts- pinching the swollen nubs until you are a whimpering mess clenching around him again. You are painted in your own nectar again- the growing waterfall between your legs causing a possessive growl to leave Astarion’s throat as he nips at your neck.

Astarion is the only one who can make you feel this way and he wants to make sure you never forget it.

“Gods you are a work of art,” he says, moving his hand that was playing with your breasts to rub your swollen, sensitive clit and he snaps up into you. The whimper that leaves your lips is so pitifully blissed out that Astarion loses his composure- thrusting up into you sloppily as he begins coming into you without any warning, grunting through his arousal as he praises you.

*smut ends here*

“You were so good for me, Little Love,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “but I definitely don’t think I am any cleaner than I was before.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort between heavy breaths.

Astarion laughs and then rolls you both onto your sides. Astarion wraps himself around you, pushing his nose into your hair and inhaling your scent- the already intoxicating aroma is even sweeter with the scent of you and him mixed together between your legs. Astarion glides his fingers between your legs and licks the combination off his fingers- humming in delight. He can feel the heat crawl up the back of your neck.

I can’t believe I almost lost this today, Astarion thinks, trying to just be in the moment with the warmth you make him feel, but there is also guilt, shame, and self- loathing. It makes him feel heavy- left to wonder if he will always feel this way despite enjoying himself with you. Would you be okay with that? Waiting for him to be okay? Astarion didn’t, however, realize that his “thought” was actually spoken out loud.

“Lost what today?”

Astarion stiffens against you- embarrassed more than anything. Astarion just hides his face in your hair and chuckles breathily.

“Oh only the first real companion I’ve had in a very long time,” he tries to brush it off, chuckles, “our late night trysts- sex included or not- are rather pleasurable. I think I’d go insane if I was stuck with everyone else here on my own.”

You are silent and what he knows is seconds, feels like hours before you finally speak again.

“Is that why you followed me earlier today?”

That is a good question. Why did Astarion follow you when you went to blow up the crèche?

You had all agreed after hastily retrieving the Blood of Lathander that blowing up the building is the best chance you and your companions had at getting out of there alive with no Githyanki to worry about. You volunteered to power up the machine.

Astarion didn’t tell you how much he despised the plan- that hadn’t gone well for him last time and he really would prefer to not upset you- not that you wouldn’t be kind to him, he just wasn’t sure if he would be able to be kind to you regarding your life being on the line.

Astarion has noticed you both seem to have very different opinions on the value of your life, but he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t fast enough to outrun a small blast.

Karlach, Lae’zel, and Astarion watched as the monastery exploded and you sprinted faster than Astarion had ever seen anyone sprint before.

The blast was massive- the foundation of the Monastery falling apart at an alarmingly fast rate. The noise was deafening. This was far more powerful than any of you anticipated and he feels the pit in his stomach grow while watching you.

Then Astarion saw that the floor underneath your feet was going to give and you began to dip out of eye sight- Karlach and Lae’zel had the same realization he did- you are about to die underneath all of that rubble.

He remembers Karlach trying to hold him back- telling him you wouldn’t want him to go and just wait until one of you can afford Withers. Astarion didn’t want to have to wait or be without you for however long that would be.

The way his throat hurt screaming for you. Astarion had cast misty steps without much forethought involved and just barely got to you in time. He hadn’t meant to tackle you, but you being mad at him is the least of his concerns. He had only had one goal and it was for you to get out of there alive- it scared him how easily he had been a second thought to himself.

He’s never been more afraid for another person or to lose said person in his 239 years of living (that he can remember)- up until you. Astarion would have hated himself for the rest of eternity if something terrible had happened to you and he didn’t even try to save you.

“I-,” Astarion clears his throat, “I don’t know Darling. We were just watching the tower collapse and I saw that the foundation underneath you was going to give…

“I cast misty steps without even really thinking about it. I’m still struggling to believe it myself… I’ve never really thought about anyone else’s safety before.”

Astarion tries to feel brave despite his vulnerability- he supposes he’ll know if he is just sex to you or not.

You turn around to face him, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls you into him- your faces mere inches apart.

You are reading him and Astarion avoids your gaze. He doesn’t want you to see how intensely his feelings are starting to change, but he also doesn’t want to slip his facade back on- he relaxes when you lean your forehead against his.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper his name like a silent prayer.

“Of course, Little Love,” he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and then inhales slowly.

You smell like lavender, clary sage, and pine- the three most random things have quickly become his favorite combination of scents. He wanted to bottle up the smell so he never has to be without.

Astarion considers your earlier proposition of traveling together after this is all over. It’s been almost 2 months of you knowing one another and it’s been a wonderful 2 months of fun- minus the being hunted by psychotic vampires and could turn into tentacled creatures at any moment.

He hasn’t dared to think about your offer until just now. Astarion knows that you will inevitably end things with him before the end of this journey when you realize he has little to no worth outside of pleasure, but Gods can’t he dream about a world where that never happens? Even if only for a little while?

“I think Candlekeep would be a first good spot for us to go- if we survive this whole tadpole thing,” Astarion says absentmindedly, “I do love a good book.”

“Oh I know,” you say while wiggling your eyebrows at him, “why do you think I even mentioned it?”

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “how dare you exploit my weakness for literature!”

“I’m despicable, I know,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead, “my plan was to manipulate you into traveling with me the entire time. All I needed to do was find something that may interest you.”

“I didn’t realize I was so easy to please.”

“I wouldn’t say that- you have very reasonable and accessible hobbies,” you say slowly, “you are just difficult to keep up with sometimes.”

“Whatever do you mean, my Dear?” Astarion says trying to hide the nervous edge that threatens to lace his voice.

You look at him with the same amount of nerves he is feeling on the inside. You are cautious and guarded now- like you were when he first met you.

“Um well- Shadowheart told me that you guys um,” you shift uncomfortably, “almost started a thing before I joined camp.”

Wonderful, how thoughtful of her.

“…it was that first day when we were setting up the tents. She mentioned that you guys made out with a lot of heavy petting. Shadowheart had this whole idea of making you beg for it.”

Oh really? Astarion thinks bitterly.

“ She was actually a little bit pissed when you kind of stopped regarding her completely. She’s moved on now, well I hope or maybe she hasn’t because she brought it up again tonight that it’s a bummer you didn’t mesh… and she started talking about being with ‘men like you’ and how you prefer someone who is exciting in bed…”

Oh I’m going to kill that cleric, Astarion thinks, she will not be derailing my plan nor this- whatever this is.

It had barely been anything- Shadowheart had approached him, he couldn’t tell her no, she got him hard, and by the time he was nicely dissociated- she had pushed herself off of him saying he needed to earn it.

Then he met you the next day and having to force himself to be with Shadowheart was quickly thrown out the window.

Astarion had been grateful if he was honest with himself. Beyond grateful, actually. Astarion can’t imagine being with Shadowheart when he has you- someone who respects him and seems to enjoy his company outside of sex- enough to offer your company before and after at least.

Your voice is a sad whisper now, “and well- she mentioned maybe asking you to also… be with her in this way.”

Oh he is going to go and rip that Cleric to pieces.

“I told her I wasn’t comfortable with that and she basically told me it was a pity I wasn’t- men ‘like you’ eventually get bored.”

You avoid his gaze, looking at where your left hand is settled on his shoulder, “I guess I was wondering if that is something I should be prepared for or if you are interested in being with her in that way. I honestly don’t know if I could still be with you- it would maybe hurt too much, but I understand. She’s beautiful, sexual, smart-“

“And yet she isn’t you,” Astarion says harsher than he intended. You look at him vulnerably and he kisses you deeply before continuing- surprising himself with how romantic he is being.

“Shadowheart did approach me on the third night of camp- right before you joined our group,” Astarion says with resentment, “I- Cazador used to have me go hunt for the most beautiful souls in Baldur’s Gate so that he could feed.

“I haven’t been given the luxury of saying ‘no’ for the last 200 years- not that she would have known that, but I… was barely there by the time she decided to leave. We had only been kissing and it all felt… mechanical. Rehearsed,” he is searching your eyes for any signs of disgust, but all he sees is understanding and encouragement to continue, “I was honestly grateful she walked off. I had tried to flirt back the next day- thinking it would be better for me to make an ally than an enemy. I wouldn’t be able to say no to her advances anyway- I figured I would just embrace it.

“Then I met you- ethereal, eccentric, dangerous, wonderful you,” he whispers as if the moon might hear how valuable you are and take you away, “and I don’t think I’ve looked at another soul ever since. You seem to see me- hear me. You are the only person to respect my boundaries- even when I am not respecting my own.

“Not a day goes by where I don’t enjoy your company- even on our rest days when everyone else is being a pill. You are the first person I’ve ever willingly propositioned as well- something I never thought I’d be able to do.”

Astarion tries to remind himself that this is all part of his act- he’s failing miserably. He really went and fucked up his own plan over choosing the wrong person. Maybe Shadowheart would have been the better choice for the sake of his sanity and his emotions. At least he knew what Shadowheart wanted. Your expression is unreadable and Astarion begins to feel anxious.

“But if you would like to include Shadowheart- I could tr-,” he begins slowly.

“NO!” You shout and cause both of you to jump, “No, Astarion. I definitely don’t want to include Shadowheart. I would like to keep our recreational activities and whatever we are doing to just us. I suppose I was just insecure because I have basically no sexual experience and evidently you do and she does and- nevermind! It was a dumb thought. “I want you to know- I don’t think less of you for everything with Cazador,” you say reassuringly, “you are not broken or a thing to be used. I couldn’t imagine enduring that kind of suffering for 200 years and Gods I hate that wretched man even more!!! But thank you for sharing all of that with me. It couldn’t have been easy so thank you for letting me get to know you more. I certainly cannot wait to parade Cazador’s head around on a stick with you through Baldur’s Gate.”

He lets out a choked laugh at your statement. Astarion holds you closer for a moment- trying to keep you from seeing his tears. You don’t look upon him with pity- every terrible story he tells you is regarded as what it is and you make him feel empowered to talk about these things. You don’t see Astarion as broken- you see him as brave and strong.

“Maybe a little dumb,” he teases, before looking at you softly, “but can I ask- does that mean you are only looking at me too? Or should I be anticipating a conversation about Halsin in the future?”

Astarion is asking in a joking tone, but he is scared to hear your answer. Halsin is the newest member in your weird little camp and he definitely has his eyes on you.

Astarion is positive that, whatever souls are made of- yours and his are the same. You understand him on an entirely different level and he is almost positive he would do anything to convince you to stay with him.

Astarion began talking to you so you would worship him and yet, here he is, worshiping you- as terrifying as that is.

You kiss him and Astarion has never felt more wanted- needed in his whole life. Your lips are soft and necessitous against his. Gently coaxing soft moans from his mouth. You stop to look at him- your face serious.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you say, “asking that was definitely a little dumb.”

Astarion meets you halfway, kissing you over and over again until you are entangled in each other- mind, body, and soul.

That night, for the first time ever, Astarion makes love.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #Astarion x AFAB! reader #smut #astarion x f! reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn!tav

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liyawritesss · 11 months

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Hi! Hope you having a great day, do you still taking Arcane request. If so can you do a Ekko x GN reader where the two of them having really bad fight then the reader said they should take a break of this relationship and left the Firelight place. Didn't come back for a while. Both of them regret that decision but they too stubborn to said it.

It's been a week since that fight, the reader was a mechanic. They trying to fix something for a friend but ran out of things to fix, so the reader go out to find some supply. At that time the firelight was out fighting Silco's people, At first the reader choose to ignored but notice Ekko got injured from one of the guys that when the reader run out to help Ekko and the firelight beating those bad guys.

After a while helping Ekko get back to the try to make the wound better. The reader about to leave, returning to their work place. But Ekko pulling back, want to make up the fight before and didn't want their relationship to end like that. The reader apologize about that fight and they make up!

(You can make it a little drama like having a boy or girl got too comfy with Ekko or not your choice! Angst at the beginning then fluff in the end and sorry if my grammar bad, English isn't my first language)

ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ; ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

Pairing: Arcane!Ekko x Black!Fem!Firelight!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 5.0k

Synopsis: When a minor mistake leads a stakeout mission astray, Ekko’s choice of words has you wondering where his emotions for you lie. It becomes apparent that even after seven years, the toic of discussion is one that still cuts deep for the both of you.

Warnings: cursing, show-accurate violence, mentions of drugs and drug-use (shimmer), mentions of guns & explosions, mentions of injuries

A/N: havent written for my man in a hot minute so thank you for this request! Absolutely adore Ekko, and while I think this could be way better, i know if I mess with it it wont be as good as I want it to be lmao. Sooooo here it is, hope you enjoy! Song Inspiration: “Devil Doesn’t Bargain”, “Boy in the Bubble”, and “Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin, “lovely” by Billie Eilish ft. Khalid, “Broken Clocks” by SZA, “like that” by Bea Miller

Tags: @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @cafehyunji @lulu-network @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @vander-affectionate @evermorewest

The air that surrounded the Firelight soldiers as the squad returned to the hideout could be described as something akin to tension.

It was heavy, weighing on the soldiers shoulders as the squad of five hung their battle wear and accessories in their respective cubbies for housing. No one dared to speak, for fear that the unbridled temper that was thinly veiled by their leader’s quiet demeanor would be unleashed if a word was spoken into the unanimously agreed upon silence.

It was thick, evident in the way the squad members pushed through the hot and sticky summer air to hang their belongings. The hesitance slowed their movements, careful not to cause any abrupt disturbances in the carefully crafted momentum that would guarantee the three other squad members precise escape from the gear room and into the open clearing of the sanctuary, where although the air was still blazing hot, it was better to breathe than the air inside, looming with hostility.

Three would find their escapes successful, returning to their individual rooms to release the stress that had settled in their muscles from the night's events. And although they had escaped the worst of it, something still lingered in their stomachs as the distance between them and the last two remaining squad members in the gear room grew.

It wasn’t just tension. It was apprehension.

White locs were dirtied with gunpowder and sweat, a thin layer of it also coating his dark cacao skin. A deep frown makes its way onto the leader’s face, frown lines prominent on his forehead, thick nose scrunched in vexation. He leaned against a nearby table, arms swollen and toned with muscle folded across his chest as he stared at the woman before him. He was trying to calm himself, formulate the words he would say in a way that wouldn’t be regrettable, but as the events of the night continued to replay in his mind, he found his efforts nugatory.

It wasn’t just tension; it was apprehension.

He watched the woman before him take her precious time in putting up her gear. She wasn’t ignorant to the tension in the room. She wasn’t ignorant, but she knew the cause of it. She knew the reason why she was taking her time in stripping off her coat, making sure it hung on the right hook by the right tag. She knew the reason behind taking extra care in extracting her mask from her face, placing the facial ornament flat onto the floor of the cubby. She knew the reason why she was taking extra care in removing her gloves instead of ripping them off like normal.

It wasn’t just tension.

It was apprehension.

“So,” the leader’s voice echoes out into the room, the first vocal sound to do so outside of the rustle of clothing against wood and clacking of the same material against the frame of the cubby made from metal. His voice was deep, laced with madden, restrained, “wanna talk about what the fuck that was out there?”

“Nothing,” you responded, short and curt. You were biting your tongue, the both of you knew it. You were restraining yourself just as much as he was, “it was nothing-”

“Bullshit,” the white haired boy interjects, “you don’t do shit like that and call it ‘nothing’, (Y/N).”

He could see your jaw flexing, attempting to keep your mouth closed and your resolve intact as you stored away your last glove, closing the cubby door, all without looking at him.

“I’m not doing this with you.” You firmly announce. Your pair of feet that had been stuck in the same position finally followed your will to move as you turned to the doorway, preparing to leave the room.

“You don’t have a choice, Captain!”

His voice is booming, thunderous like a God, and it commands you to halt your movements. The use of your title makes you grit your teeth, a tight breath slipping past your lips in a gamble for reclaiming your composure.

The leader pushes himself from his leaning position, standing firmly on his own two feet, hands coming together in a prayer motion in front of his face to stifle the agitation in his voice he was sure to let slip.

“We had a plan,” he says securely, though ironic in the current situation, “we had a plan to track movement. We had a plan to solely track that shipment; why the fuck did you divert from the plan?”

This wasn’t just tension; it was apprehension.

“The fuck do you want me to say, Ekko?” You seeth through gritted teeth, slowly but surely turning to face the boy behind you. “What the fuck is there to say?”

There’s an intensity in the air that comes from the severity of the situation at hand. Both of you restraining yourselves from enacting a yelling match, attempting to prevent the inevitable; trying to remain civil for each other’s sakes. Because if anyone knew how badly this could end, it would be the both of you.

“I fucked up,” you admit, though that was already evident in the heated silence that followed the squad home, “I made a fucking mistake. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” Ekko answers imply, “no, that’s not what I want to hear. Because that’s bullshit, too.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your expression mixed with shock and disbelief. “How are you gonna tell me about what I did? You think I don’t know what a fucking mistake is-”

“That wasn’t no fucking ‘mistake’, (Y/N)!” Ekko interjects again, and it’s the subtlety of which he does so that begins to spark an ember in your core with him.

“We been in this game- we been together- for seven years, (Y/N),” the brown eyed boy continues, “seven fucking years. You think I don’t know your mistakes by now? You think I don’t know you?”

Of course he does, you think. Otherwise he wouldn’t be as angered as he is right now.

“I know what it was,” he proclaims, pointing at you in an accusatory motion “it was your head.”

“My head?” You reiterate, said limb on your body tilting to the side, a growing annoyance evident in your voice. “What about my head, Ekko?”

“You really gon’ make me say it out loud?”

“Yes, cuz I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

It was a lie; you knew very well what he was referencing. You weren’t sure how it was so easy for such words to spill from your lips. Maybe it was because of the suddenness of this confrontation, despite knowing it was bound to happen. You’d played every plausible scenario of how this exact moment would play out, attempting to prepare yourself for Ekko’s questioning, and the inevitable argument that would take place. Maybe it was because you wanted him to hurry this charade along, despising his natural skill of dragging things on for far longer than what they needed to be.

“I have you as my sniper for a reason,” Ekko begins, “I have you as my second in command for a reason. Not because you’re the only person I’ve got left-” a fib of his own spills from his lips, but addressing it would not steer the conversation anywhere but in circles, “-not because you’re my fucking girlfriend, but because you proved that you could always hold a chill head. That you could take the orders given. That you could make the calls when I can't.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to a point eventually, Ek.” You scoff, refraining from rolling your eyes as he lectured you as if you were still children, holled up in an alleyway on the streets of the Undercity, hiding from enforcer soldiers.

“Whatever the fuck that was out there, was not a calm and chill head. So I need you to tell me,” Ekko steps closer, the sound of his combat boots echoing throughout the tattered walls of the gear room, “what did you see that knocked you off?”

“This is ridiculous, Ekko,” you profess, “what’re you gonna do if I don’t?” Take me off the tracking team? Demote me?”

Perhaps it wasn’t wise to say such daring words to the very leader of the rebellion you swore your life to. If there was anything about Ekko that was redeeming, it was his unyielding devotion to owning his title and standing on his word. And as he stands before you, an arms length away with chocolate brown irises blazing into yours with a fire so hot it could scorch your own fierce ones, there’s a gnawing at your stomach that tells you that he absolutely would.

“You think I won’t?”

Silence filled the already tension-thick atmosphere, seeping into the folds and making it all the more unbearable. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other in a battle of will, a common practice the two of you engaged in whenever a disagreement arised. Without an audience, the glares in exchange lasted for what felt like minutes, hours.

And Ekko wasn’t backing down.

“Are you serious?” You muttered through gritted teeth. “All this over a dumb mistake that will never happen again?”

“It was a mistake that could have costed us lives!” Ekko bellows once more, and if it weren't for it being the second time he had raised his voice, you may have flinched by the volume it had risen to. “We can’t afford to make mistakes, (Y/N) - especially with what we do - you know that more than anyone here!”

“And it wont happen again!” You declared, garnering agitation in your voice from having to repeat yourself more than you would like to.

“And how can I know that, (Y/N)!?” Ekko shouts, challenging your words once more, and it more than suggests to you that he doesn’t believe them. He knows you’re not telling him everything, and it irks him to his core.

You turn once again with a mission to leave, even getting your feet to start moving, but that doesn’t stop Ekko from continuing to speak his mind. “What’s so hard about telling me what you saw!?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it was nothing?”

“You can tell me a thousand times and I still won’t believe you-” the white haired boy rebutted, “because this isn’t you, (Y/N)!”

You weren’t sure for how long your back and forth ensued. Countless minutes of shouting back and forth, overlapping words, pleas to come clean, pleas to forget. This kind of situation wasn’t unfamiliar territory for the two of you. Ekko had a lot of weight on his shoulders, a lot of trauma he hadn’t yet faced, that he had pushed deep down to never be addressed. You understood, because you related.

You both were there that night. You both witnessed the same act of monstrosity from the sworn enemy of your people’s leader. It was the very catalyst for the current occupation the both of you shared as leaders in a dwindling community, striving for peace and unadulterated existence while simultaneously fighting against the overwhelming clutch Silco’s grasp held on Zaun.

The woman you had become was because of that bastard's treachery and cruelty, who played a game that cost the lives of thousands. A woman of practicality, precision and calculated action. In this world there was very little room for emotion. Years ago, you wouldn’t gotten roughed up a little, but now, it got you a one-way ticket to the green, polluted waters of the desolate sewer system to be feasted on by the rats…and whatever other poor monstrosities that came from SIlco’s Shimmer.

Ekko knows this. Ekko knows all of it. Which is why he finds himself so frustrated that you won’t talk to him. It’s only in the midst of his grunting and growling that it clicks to him. A possibility as to why you acted out of such a practiced routine. Yet, he doesn’t know if he should rejoice about his revelation, or grow even more heated.

“You saw her.”

Three words that seemed to silence the world spilled from his lips in a breathy gasp. He knows he’s right when your lips come together in a tight line, and for the first time since the confrontation was initiated, your eyes divert from his.

You saw her.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” He asks, but is met with silence once again.

The topic of Jinx was always a sensitive one. Ekko may have been able to fool himself into detachment from the blue haired girl, shredding whatever hope he had left of recovering the old Powder who loved to go on runs with the two of you and made trinkets for your birthdays out of scrap metal and hard work. However, the same could not be said for you.

“(Y/N)-”

“So what if I did?” The rebuttal is sharp tongued and weighty, heavy with emotion, and Ekko knows what is inevitable to come.

“So what if I did see her, Ekko? What would you say?” You ask through gritted teeth, words strained as you feel the dam of emotions inside of you starting to overflow. “The same old shit you say all the time? That she’s gone and there’s no path of redemption for her? That she’s not worth saving?”

He’d never said such words aloud, but Ekko was guilty of thinking them, and to hear them verbalized tore open the same wound in his heart he’d patched up time and time again with each mention of the long lost friend.

“You may be able to let go, Ekko,” you grumble through gritted teeth, eyes watering over, and Ekko doesn’t know if its the sight of you crying or if it's the way the conversation has shifted that has him stilling, jaw clenched tightly, “but I can’t do that…I just can’t.”

And then, you left. And suddenly the unbearably thick summer air turned bitingly cold against Ekko’s skin as he watched you walk away. And as Ekko wipes down the length of his face, he knows there’s nothing much left for him to do but wait.

Wait until the air has become more bearable to breath. Wait until the tension has subsided. Wait until apprehension no longer clogs his stomach heavily, so that regrettable words would not be spoken.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Going to the market?”

“Yeah. Your bike needs a rotator chain, I’m gonna see if I can find one on the west end.”

One week. Seven days. 168 hours since you’ve last seen Ekko.

“Be careful out there. Silco’s goons have been making rounds again, and they aren’t sparing anyone in these parts.”

You don’t remember leaving the sanctuary. You just remember waking up on your friends couch after, according to them, was a rough and stormy night. You probably blacked out after your screaming match with him, and had an overwhelming desire to just get away. Your friend’s place was the only spot safe enough for you to crash at until you got your head straight.

Though, after seeing what you saw, could you really expect to snap back in a mere few hours?

“I’ll be good. They won’t touch me if they know what’s good for them.”

You left the tiny home of your friend, clad in the same clothes you had left in and a jacket you were quick to grab from their wardrobe. They lived pretty high up above the marketplace - the homes of the residents of Zaun were built into the underside of the extravagant Piltover, where everything was dark, dank, and cold. Layers upon layers of makeshift apartments stacked on top of one another for conservation of what little space the undercity did have.

Your hand grabbed the pole of the crossbridge that led from the side your friend’s apartment was to the other, and with expert precision, you maneuvered your way down the several levels and layers of homes connected by bridges of wood, metal and concrete.

Memories of parkouring as a little girl began to flutter into your mind. How you loved to best Ekko, the self proclaimed ‘King of Parkour’, at his own game. How Powder would tag along with you because she wanted to be with her friends-

Fuck, you weren’t suppose to think about her.

You were thankful your feet met the ground before more thoughts of Powder filled your mind, because if you had still been swinging from pole to pole and jumping from wood to metal, you’d surely lose your balance and come falling down the rest of the way. It was the effect the past had one you; and an unfortunate one at that.

It’s as if the second you find landing and start to walk in the direction of the marketplace, your ears catch wind of commotion to your left. The muffled grunting and clamoring causes you to pause and turn, peering out of your hood to see what was happening.

You’d always been the one to answer a call to action, so there wasn’t much surprise when you found yourself inching closer to the alleyway of which was producing the concerning sounds. It had only been ingrained into you from your youth, and had become second nature in the wake of Silco’s reign. Having a knack for helping people was a blessing and a curse, and while it got you into more trouble than you would like, the favors that you’d stocked up on came in handy.

Approaching the alleyway closer you could make out two figures standing - Silco’s men, no doubt, given the way they dress and the horrible filth they speak. Then there’s a person on the ground, wearing green.

Green was the color of the Firelights, and so naturally, you assumed the worst.

With your ankle pressing against the small knife hidden in your boot, you knew what had to be done. You crouched down behind a stack of crates and whistled, catching one of the perp’s attention. As they approached your direction for inspection, in one quick motion, you slipped the knife from your boot, took hold of the perp’s arm and knocked him into the wall. The blade made itself a home in his neck, muffling any yell he would’ve mustered out.

By the time you were finished, the second perp had been taken care of as well by the victim they were cornering. Revealing yourself from behind the stack of crates, your worries had been confirmed when getting a closer look at the coat the other person was wearing.

It was indeed a Firelights coat - a deep forest green to blend in with the shadows but still be distinguishable. The Firelight had been injured it seemed, as they held their arm close and with care, wincing with every movement of it that was made.

“Hey,” you called out to them, advancing closer to them as you did so, “you alright? Where’s your partner? You know if you’re patrolling you gotta be in pairs-”

“(Y/N)!” The Firelight gasps out in relief, confusing you. “Lieutenant- you’ve gotta help us! We were outnumbered- a-and got split up, they jumped us!- from every corner, we didn’t see them coming-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” You quickly soothing, grounding the obviously frightened soldier with reassuring hands on their shoulder, guiding them to breathe, “you have to slow down for me, and breathe so you can clearly-”

“-a-and it’s Ekko- Ekko, he got hurt-”

And in that moment, your world slows, and there’s an instant pit in your stomach that comes from thinking the worst. If Ekko of all people got taken out of commission, whatever that was going on was serious.

“...okay,” you start after your shock passes over you. As if a switch in your brain is flipped, and now you’re in fight mode, “you need to take me to where you all split from. Now.”

Your voice is commanding and stern, leaving no room for discussion. The Firelight, still holding his arm, nods at your command. As the two of you leave, you pick up the weapon that the second perp had been carrying on his back; it wasn’t anything compared to your sniper gun, but it would have to do.

According to the Firelight, the mission was to stop one of Silco’s Shimmer transports to a hotspot location known for distribution of the drug. The normal prep for such a mission was done properly, but there was an underestimation of power in numbers on Silco’s end. What’s more, a certain blue haired girl decided to make her presence known as well, and her erraticness threw everyone off square. To save face, Ekko commanded everyone to split up.

Which meant Ekko was alone, and hurt, and probably wallowing in some form of guilt, and that could not do. A guilty Ekko was not a functional one.

“We were over there when the fight started,” said the Firelight as the two of you stood on top of a roof overlooking the distribution post, “when he made the call, I saw him go east in the direction of the Last Drop. The two other soldiers went west, and I ran south.”

Two large, burly men, littered with tattoos and hardened by the streets, guarded a small cart covered with blue metal barrels, a strip of thick translucent plastic going down the side, showing the bright magenta liquid inside. Four more paced around the small clearing area, seemingly on the lookout for someone.

Six men within a ten yard radius of each other. If you were right, that cart held about thirty gallons of Shimmer. Tests done on the drug proved that it was highly flammable, which normally meant that with your sniper gun, setting the scene ablaze would be easy. But with a mere regular shotgun in your possession, you’d need an extra boost.

“Look in your pouch for me,” you direct to the Firelight soldier, “do you got any of those spark pouches?”

The Firelight uses his good arm to fish in his thigh pouch, producing a small, red sack of gunpowder. “What’re you thinking, Lieutenant?”

“We need to take these guys out while destroying that shipment in the process,” you explain, pointing towards the triangular shape of trajectory between each of the guardsmen and the cart, “the spray of the Shimmer is about fifteen yards, which will cover more than enough of the ten yard radius those guys are in. I need you to throw that spark pouch right in between the two guards on my signal. When I shoot, it’s gonna be enough Shimmer spray to kill them…but we gotta move fast to avoid it.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone looked at you crazy for such a straightforward plan. You’d garnered many such stares since you first began in the Firelight ranks. There was a method to your madness, as Ekko would put it, and there had never been a reason for anyone to not trust your judgements or plans. Despite the Firelight’s initial questioning of the credibility of such a plan, there was no choice but for him to go along.

The two of you backed up as much as possible on the rooftop to make it easier for a clean getaway. Once in position, you pulled out the gun you had acquired earlier, checking the magazine for sufficient bullets. Then, you took aim at the center of the cart, inhaling a deep breath to steady your hand and focus your vision.

At one, the world began to slow when your aim focussed steadily.

At two, you prepared your wrist for the recoil that would shock your hand.

At three, the Firelight soldier threw the spark pouch with expert precision. Not a second later, the shot from your gun rung out.

The sight that Ekko wakes up to is a pleasant one compared to the week he’s had.

The sun is blinding through his makeshift sunroof. There’s a dull pain on his side, and a ringing in his ears that subsides the more his vision focuses. It’s a great contrast to what he thought he’d be seeing when he awoke, but he welcomes the feeling of home that washes over his being.

His eyes turn to his side where he sees you, sitting next to his bed. His jacket is thrown loosely over your shoulders, and in your hands, you twirl a piece of folded paper. His eyebrows furrow at the sight; he isn’t expecting you to be here with him.

Noticing that he’d woken up, you focus your attention on the injured man. The folded letter is placed on the crate that acts as a nightstand next to Ekko’s bed, and you lean forward onto the bed to get closer to him. His hair is disheveled, locs splayed everywhere on his pillow and on his face. His abdomen is bandaged tightly, yet even the white gauze leaves little to the imagination. And the sun shines on his cocoa colored skin, contrasting against your own as you slip his larger hand into your own.

You needed to feel him, and be thankful that he was here.

“Hey, you,” Ekko croaks out, voice raspy and patchy from what you can only assume was yelling and sleep.

“Hi,” you mutter out against the back of his hand, lips pulled into a tight smile.

“Thought you were still mad at me.”

“”m not mad,” you mumble, shaking your head, “just glad you're okay.”

The fact that you’re not being snarky with him tells Ekko that there’s something weighing on you; something that’s not remorse for your absence, but something deeper. His eyes travel over to the nightstand, falling onto the letter once again.

“What’s that?” He points out, curiosity filling his patchy voice.

There’s a moment’s pause before you speak again, your voice somber and emotional; “It’s….what I saw.”

What I saw can only be referring to the incident a week prior, Ekko determines. His eyes turn back to you, his hand giving yours a gentle tug towards him, gesturing for you to climb into bed with him. He meets little resistance, and takes a little pride in how easily you slip into his side, molding against his form as you were made to. His arm wraps around your shoulders, helping you hide in the crook of his neck; a much needed escape you’ve wanted to indulge in for a while.

“Deal with it later,” he mumbles against your hairline, “jus’ stay with me.”

Resting against Ekko’s broad chest, you thought on his words. Knowing yourself, dealing with things later wouldn’t be as productive as he’d hope. You’d want to forget the subject entirely, revert back to the same concealment as before. Knowing the both of you, it couldn't be dealt with later.

“It was her eyes, Ekko,” You mumbled into his shirt, prompting the darker male to turn his attention to you, “there was something in them, Ekko. I swear there was.”

Seeing Jinx on that night wasn’t what any of you had intended. She’d very scarcely shown her face on the streets of Zaun, presumably at SIlco’s behest. As mad of a kingpin he was, he himself couldn’t deny the deranged nature the blue haired girl had. And yet, when she showed signs of stability, he seemed to allow her off on transportation missions at the very least. And it just so happened that after six years, a week ago was the first time you’d seen Jinx since the night Vander died.

When you saw those blue eyes, dulled and lifeless, it hurt. Hurt to know that the possibility of Powder truly being gone was higher than what you’d let yourself believe. Hurt to know that you would never have your friend back, and that there would never be any chance of recovering the family you’d list all those years ago.

You’d seen her, and then, she saw you. And when she did, the world slowed. And for a second, when your eyes caught each other, a flash of something came across her eyes that caused your body to react against your well-trained judgment. It was as if she had recognized you and felt a sense of…wistfulness.

Though it didn’t reflect anything of the like when she raised her gun towards you, and you had no choice but to act before she could.

“There was a moment where I…thought she recognized me,” you muttered, “but then she….raised her gun to me.”

Ekko’s chest stuttered as he released a shaky breath to your words. There’s a pause before you speak again, “Is it easier for you to just…believe she’s really gone?”

A long moment of silence passes…”Yeah, it is.”

Ekko has always thought about Jinx. It’s hard not to when her presence can change any of his plans on a whim, since he has people to protect and her mentality is as finicky as a time bomb. But Powder…he hates to think about her.

“If she was gone from the start,” Ekko mutters through a voice crack, “it means there wasn’t a chance to save her in the first place. Means I never failed in saving her, I guess.”

Your hand reaches up to caress Ekko’s face, jaw clenched tight from his own words, and when you look into his eyes, you can see the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide when talking about the blue haired girl. There was beauty in it, you always told him, though you never thought he truly believed you when you said it. Ekko was never given much grace to be vulnerable, to be a boy. He’d found that in you; so you knew it took a lot for him to even admit as such to your question.

You don’t really get to be a kid after watching the people you love die in front of you. Even the ones who still walk the land with another soul in their bodies.

You press a kiss onto his lips; gentle, affirming, and grounding. Your thumb runs the length of his cheekbones and you find comfort in the crevice of his neck once again. When Ekko relaxes against your hold, you release a breath of air, and think that perhaps it’s best that you adopt his way of thinking as well.

Powder was gone, but at least in this hell, you had each other.

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