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chronosdawn · 2 days

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Attached - Alpha!Wriothesley x Beta!Reader

a/b/o AU, GN!Reader

A/N: I got the idea for this while working on another, longer a/b/o fic so instead of working on that like I was supposed to, I wrote this OTL

Word count: 1.3k

Content warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mild sexual content and themes (minors please DNI)

Not many got the chance to know the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide well. Certainly, almost everyone in Fontaine knew of him, and as the Fortress’s administrator, many people had some sort of contact with him, be they convicts of the Fortress or proprietors of businesses hoping to gain a foothold there.

But among those, very few got to actually know the Duke beyond his title and position, and when you’d first met him, you’d had no reason to think you’d be any different. Sure, you had been invited there by him personally, which was rare, but made sense once you’d learned he was looking to procure resources for some project that was being worked on in the Fortress—something you had a lot of experience doing for members of the Fontaine Research Institute.

Over the course of several meetings—and more than a couple of pots of tea—a tentative friendship had formed between you. One that had turned into something quite different when you’d accidentally stumbled into his office while he was in a rut.

And that, was how you’d come to end up in your current situation—seated in Wriothesley’s lap with your overnight bag discarded by the door to his room. You hadn’t expected this to become a regular occurrence when you’d first offered him your assistance, but for some reason the stubborn fool had refused to seek out an omega to spend his ruts with, even if you both knew that was what he actually needed.

He nosed against the back of your neck before going in with a gentle nip of his teeth, dangerously close to where your small beta scent gland lay.

“Careful,” you warned, “you know our agreement, nothing that can’t be taken back. I don’t want to be the reason your future omega ends up developing some sort of complex.”

Wriothesley stilled briefly before grazing his teeth over your nape once more. “What would you do if I did?”

“What do you mean?” You tried to turn around to look at his face, but the muscular arms around your waist kept you locked in place, pressed tightly against the firm planes of his chest.

“What would you do if I decided to put a claiming bite on you? Right now, you’re not in any position to stop me.”

“You wouldn’t,” you said with absolute certainty, even as he nipped at you again, harder this time.

“What makes you so sure?” His rut had come on enough that even you could smell the pheromones he was pumping out into the air, a rich leathery musk with notes of clary sage.

“I know you, you just wouldn’t.”

“You sound pretty convinced of that.” He went quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible as he muttered into your skin. “Do you even know what I was originally sentenced here for?”

“I do.” He’d never told you himself but you remembered reading about his trial in the newspaper your father had left out on your dining room table. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’re not the sort of person who’d force a yourself on someone, and I can’t imagine you ever being disloyal to your mate. Even if for some strange reason you seem reluctant to go out and find them.”

He let out a chuckle but there was no real humour in it. “You know, sometimes I wish you thought a little less highly of me.”

“If I didn’t think so highly of you, I wouldn’t be here, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He went back to worrying at your neck, his mouth over your scent gland. Instead of biting down, however, he sucked at the skin in a way that was certain to leave its own sort of claiming mark, but one that would fade within a week.

“You don’t seem to be in any hurry,” you noted, as he took his time littering your nape with hickeys, despite the growing hardness you could feel pressing against your ass.

“How long can you stay?” His hands began to wander slowly over your body, the heat of his palms burning through your clothes.

“A couple of days.” You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his touch while you could. “I’ve got a trip to Liyue scheduled to check on some ore shipments and it’s too late to rearrange it. Sorry I can’t be here for the whole thing; I should be able to help you through the worst of it though.”

“And when will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. Some of the merchants we’re dealing with are really dragging their feet for some reason. I should be back before your next one, although whether that’s really a good thing or not, I don’t know. Might have been a good incentive for you to actually seek out a more permanent arrangement.”

“I really wish you’d stop bringing that up.” One of his hands slipped underneath your shirt, sliding beneath your undergarments so he could give your nipple a firm squeeze. “What’s so wrong with this?”

You let out an undignified squeak and chastised him with a light slap to the thigh. “I know I sound like some nagging old aunt, but I just want you to find someone who makes you happy. Truly happy, not just sex.”

“And if I said you make me happy?”

“I can’t, not in the way deserve,” you said a little sadly, before putting the thought out of your mind altogether. It was best not to think about what ifs that could never be, it would only lead to hurt. “Now, what do you say we get a move on, before you get so wound up you tear straight through my clothes. Again.”

Wriothesley loosened his hold enough for you to turn around in his lap, fingers moving to undo the buttons of your shirt as he watched with rapt attention.

“With the way you’re so fond of telling me off, anyone would think you’re the alpha in this relationship.” He made no move to touch you, simply observing as you shed your garments one by one. You weren’t entirely sure how he was managing it, you could see the flush on his cheeks, feel the tension in his body—a piece of elastic a hair’s breadth from snapping. Still, if any alpha would have the self-control to hold themselves back during a rut, it would be him.

“Come on mister, it’s not fair to make me do all the work.” You moved to start helping him out of his waistcoat, his jacket having already been shed before you’d even entered the room.

“Alright boss,” he replied with obvious sarcasm, a smirk curling at his lips. With no warning, you were suddenly lifted and flung onto the bed, Wriothesley following you quickly after, caging you in with his body and leaving no hope of escape. “If you’re that eager, you don’t have to wait for me to go into a rut, you know, you can come here anytime. I’ve asked the staff at the front desk to let me know as soon as they see you.”

“It’s a tempting offer.” You helped him out of his waistcoat as he pulled off his tie and tossed it somewhere in the room. “But I’d hate to be the reason for a decline in the efficiency of management of the Fortress.”

“Always an answer for everything.” You didn’t get a chance to retort before his mouth was covering yours, hot and hungry as he ground his hips against your thigh. It would seem his control had finally failed him, as when you kissed back, he let out a satisfied growl from the back of his throat, fingers digging into your flesh as he tugged you into the position he wanted.

You simply let him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you braced yourself for what was sure to be a long and tiring—if enjoyable—affair.

#genshin impact x reader #Wriothesley x reader #a/b/o #I feel like I'm playing it a bit safe with the warnings as this is extremely vanilla but better safe than sorry I think!

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rafesapologist · 13 hours

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the setback ─ rafe cameron; part nine

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: swearing, angst, topper being topper

author's note: i listened to 'one more hour' by tame impala before writing this so do what you will with that (this is a warning in itself)

As the morning sun filtered through your shut eyelids, you groaned, trying to fend off the burning light that threatened to pull you from the depths of sleep. But despite your efforts, the persistent glow seeped through, coaxing you back to consciousness.

With a reluctant sigh, you finally succumbed to wakefulness, blinking away the haze of sleep as you reached out to check the time on your phone. But just as your fingers brushed against the familiar shape of your device, the door to your room burst open with a bang, startling you from your drowsy reverie.

"Y/n, wake up!" JJ's voice echoed through the room, filled with urgency and impatience. "You've got twenty minutes before your shift at the golf course starts!"

You blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden intrusion. "What?" you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you tried to process JJ's words.

"Your shift, remember?" JJ reminded you, his tone tinged with exasperation. "Our job at the golf course starts today, first shift remember?"

Realization dawned on you as the fog of sleep lifted from your mind, memories of your earlier conversation with JJ flooding back to you. "Right, my shift," you muttered, scrambling to sit up in bed as you shook off the remnants of sleep.

JJ stood in the doorway, arms crossed impatiently as he waited for you to get moving. "Come on, y/n, chop chop! We don't have all day," he urged, his tone bordering on frantic.

With a resigned sigh, you threw back the covers and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, forcing yourself to push through the grogginess that still clung to your limbs. "Alright, alright, I'm up," you grumbled, shooting JJ a half-hearted glare as you dragged yourself out of bed.

As you splashed cold water on your face, the sensation jolting you into wakefulness, you couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. It had been a while since you last set foot in the golf course, since you left the familiar shores of the Outer Banks behind. And now, as you prepared to return to your old stomping grounds, a wave of uncertainty washed over you like a tidal surge.

The golf course was a haven for the kooks – the privileged elite who roamed the island with an air of entitlement that bordered on arrogance. It was a world apart from the humble simplicity of life in the Outer Banks, a world where money and status reigned supreme.

You sighed, trying to shake off the lingering doubts and fears that threatened to consume you whole. You couldn't let the expectations of others dictate your life – couldn't let the judgmental glares and whispered gossip of the kooks dictate your worth.

With a determined shake of your head, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. You slicked back your hair, tying it into a low ponytail to keep it out of your face as you braced yourself for the day ahead. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, steeling yourself for whatever challenges lay in store.

"It's not a big deal," you whispered to yourself, the words a silent mantra of encouragement. "It's just the golf course."

With a quick brush of your teeth, you left the bathroom feeling slightly more refreshed. Hastily throwing on your tennis skirt and tank-top uniform, you wasted no time in rushing out into the kitchen, eager to ensure that JJ was ready to go.

"Hurry up, JJ!" you called out, your voice echoing through the empty hallway as you searched for your boyfriend.

Just as you were starting to worry, JJ emerged from his room with a sheepish grin, his hair still slightly tousled from sleep. "I'm ready, I'm ready!" he exclaimed, his words punctuated by a hint of breathlessness.

You couldn't help but giggle at his disheveled appearance, shaking your head in amusement at his lack of time management when it came to getting ready. "You really need to work on your timing, JJ," you teased, unable to resist poking fun at him.

JJ rolled his eyes playfully, though there was a hint of sheepishness in his expression. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he admitted with a chuckle, his tone filled with good-natured resignation. "But hey, at least we're not late, right?"

You nodded in agreement, unable to suppress a smile at JJ's infectious enthusiasm. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you replied, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the blond as you prepared to face the day together.

As you followed JJ out of the front door and towards his motorcycle parked in the front yard, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Riding on the back of JJ's motorcycle always brought a rush of adrenaline, a feeling of freedom and exhilaration that you couldn't find anywhere else.

But just as you were about to hop on behind him, JJ stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Before you could protest, he swiftly placed a helmet over your head, securing it in place with practiced ease.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his gesture, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. JJ had always been one to prioritize safety, even if it meant being a bit overprotective at times. But deep down, you couldn't deny the warmth that flooded your heart at his show of affection and care for you.

"Thanks, Jay," you said, your voice soft with gratitude as you adjusted the helmet, ensuring that it fit snugly over your head.

JJ flashed you a grin in response, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he climbed onto the motorcycle, revving the engine to life. "Safety first, y/n," he teased, his tone lighthearted yet sincere.

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you as you settled onto the back of the motorcycle, wrapping your arms around JJ's waist as he guided the bike onto the road.

As the motorcycle roared to life and JJ guided it onto the road, you couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous energy coursing through your veins. The ride to the golf course seemed to pass in a blur, each moment tinged with a sense of urgency and anticipation that made time fly by in an instant.

You attributed the quickness of the journey to your own anxiety, the nerves coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach as you braced yourself for the day ahead. But despite the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you, there was a small sense of relief in the feeling of the wind against your skin and the warmth of JJ's body pressed close to yours.

As you clung to him, the steady rhythm of the motorcycle beneath you provided a comforting anchor, grounding you in the present moment and soothing the turmoil that churned inside you. With each passing mile, you felt the tension in your muscles begin to ease, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity that you hadn't realized you'd been craving.

And as the golf course loomed into view, the familiar sights and sounds of the bustling establishment filling the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disquietude wash over you.

"If you had went any faster you probably would have killed us," you quipped as you removed the bulky helmet off of your head, "I think I have whiplash."

"Yeah, whatever boosts your ego," you replied with a playful shrug, grabbing your tote bag from the bike's satchel. "I just can't believe you managed to get us our jobs back here." Shaking your head, you turned your gaze to the ground beneath you as you and JJ approached the golf course's main entrance gate.

Your heart raced a million beats per minute as you stepped foot onto the lush Bermuda grass that covered the course. Though JJ was likely still talking to you, your attention was elsewhere, your mind consumed by the memories and emotions that flooded back at the familiar sight of the golf course.

With a heavy sigh, you hauled yourself and the looming anxiety into the locker room, determined to put away your bag and clock in for your shift. The familiar routine helped to ground you, providing a sense of structure amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts.

As you stowed your belongings and straightened up your appearance, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of apprehension that settled like a weight in the pit of your stomach. The prospect of facing whoever would show up during your shift, especially Rafe Cameron, sent a shiver down your spine.

Summoning every ounce of courage you could muster, you pulled up your socks just above your ankles, a small gesture of determination to face whatever challenges lay ahead. With a deep breath to steady your nerves, you squared your shoulders and stepped out onto the course, ready to begin your shift.

Despite the lingering unease that gnawed at the edges of your mind, you pushed aside your fears and focused on the task at hand. You had a job to do, and you were determined to do it to the best of your ability, no matter what – even if it meant coming face to face with Rafe Cameron.

As you ventured out onto the course, the warm rays of the sun danced across your glistening skin, casting a comforting glow over the lush green landscape. The figure-eight pattern of sunlight filtered through the swaying branches of the trees, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow that enveloped you as you went about your duties.

The first half of your shift passed by without much incident, the familiar routine of serving drinks and catering to the whims of the patrons keeping you busy. You dealt with your fair share of middle-aged men who were more interested in flirting with a girl half their age than actually playing golf, but you handled them with ease, deftly navigating their advances with a polite yet firm demeanor.

Despite the occasional flirtatious comment or suggestive wink, you found yourself settling into a rhythm, the tasks at hand becoming second nature as you moved from one group of patrons to the next. It was smooth sailing for the most part, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as the hours ticked by without any mishaps or run-ins with your past to corrupt your day.

As you were in the midst of refilling the cooler of drinks, lost in your own thoughts, your boss's sudden appearance jolted you back to reality. He approached with purpose, pulling you out of your reverie as he delivered the news of a large group of young men arriving to golf for the next few hours.

The request was simple – ensure their needs were met and provide exceptional service throughout their time at the course. While you obliged with a nod of understanding, internally, you couldn't help but feel a pang of apprehension at the prospect of dealing with a rowdy group of young men.

Though you maintained a professional demeanor, the thought of catering to their demands and managing their potentially unruly behavior wasn't exactly thrilling. Nevertheless, you knew it was all part of the job, and you were determined to fulfill your duties to the best of your ability, regardless of any personal reservations.

With a resigned sigh, you set aside your misgivings and prepared yourself to meet the challenge head-on. After all, you were no stranger to handling difficult patrons, and you were confident in your ability to navigate the situation with grace and professionalism. With a reassuring nod to your boss, you returned to your tasks, steeling yourself for whatever the next few hours might bring.

As you braced yourself for the impending arrival of the group, you couldn't help but feel the need to vent to JJ before diving into what promised to be a challenging few hours. You wandered around the course, scanning the area until you spotted JJ outside, meticulously polishing golf clubs hung up on the racks.

With a sense of determination, you made your way over to him, catching him by surprise with your abrupt greeting. JJ looked up, noting the irritation in your tone, and immediately sensed that something was amiss. He set down the club he was working on and turned his full attention to you, ready to listen.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his brows furrowing with concern as he regarded you.

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you prepared to unload your frustrations. "There's a group of kooks coming in soon, and I have a feeling they're going to be a handful," you explained, your voice tinged with exasperation.

JJ's expression hardened at the mention of the kooks, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He knew all too well the challenges that came with dealing with entitled tourists, especially those who frequented the golf course.

"Well, you know you can handle them," JJ reassured you, his tone firm yet supportive. "And if they give you any trouble, just let me know. I'll take care of it."

As you exchanged a nod and a small smile with JJ, appreciative of his offer of support, the sound of your boss's voice shattered the moment, calling out for you to head over to the other end of the course to greet the arriving group.

"Looks like duty calls," you remarked with a wry grin, casting a glance over your shoulder at JJ.

"Yeah, go handle those kooks. You got this," JJ replied, his tone laced with confidence.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you shot back, "Easy for you to say. You're not the one dealing with them."

With a chuckle, JJ waved you off. "Just remember, if they give you any trouble, you know where to find me." Nodding in agreement, you turned and began to make your way towards the other end of the course, your steps quickening with each stride.

Hurriedly making your way over to the other side of the golf course, you felt a sense of urgency creeping in as you fumbled to find your notepad. The weight of the impending interaction with the large group of customers loomed over you, fueling your determination to be prepared for whatever they might throw your way.

As you approached the group, you plastered on your best fake customer service voice, offering a warm greeting despite the mounting tension in your chest. "Good afternoon, gentlemen! Welcome to the golf course. How can I assist you today?" Your words flowed smoothly, practiced and polished, even as your gaze remained fixated on your skirt pocket, still searching for your notepad. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration at your inability to locate the notepad.

The sound of a male voice broke through the tension, pulling you out of your internal turmoil. "No shot," the voice exclaimed, its familiarity causing your heart to skip a beat. "Y/N, is that you?"

Your head snapped up at the mention of your name, your eyes widening in disbelief as you locked gazes with the source of the voice. And there, standing before you, was none other than Topper. Time seemed to stand still as you took in his appearance, his blond hair tousled by the breeze, his features sharp and familiar.

For a moment, you couldn't believe your eyes. It felt as though you were either dreaming or on the brink of insanity. Topper, of all people, here at the golf course – it was a surreal sight to behold. Your heart raced in your chest as you stood there in stunned silence, unable to form words as you processed the unexpected encounter.

You stumbled over your words, the unexpected encounter catching you off guard. "Hey, Top…" you stammered, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find your footing in the conversation. Your gaze flickered to the ground, a feeble attempt to avoid further interaction with him, but deep down, you knew Topper thrived on drama.

His snarky remark pierced through the awkward silence, poking at your nerves with surgical precision. "I haven't seen your face in a while. How was your little trip to Barbados?" His words hung in the air, laced with an unmistakable edge as he watched you carefully, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, a mix of surprise and suspicion flickering in your gaze. How did he know about your trip to Barbados? It was something you hadn't even shared with Rafe, let alone anyone else. The realization sent a shiver down your spine, a nagging sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach as you grappled with the implications of Topper's words.

Caught off guard by the sudden interruption, you welcomed the distraction with a relieved cough, hoping to diffuse the tension that had been building between you and Topper. But before you could respond, another member of the group chimed in, his words cutting through the air like a knife.

"Wait… Holy shit, are you Rafe's ex?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication, as the group turned their attention to you, awaiting your response. You felt a surge of panic rise within you, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected turn of events. The truth threatened to spill from your lips, but you quickly clamped down on the impulse, your mind racing as you searched for a suitable response.

The weight of everyone's attention bore down on you, intensifying the clamminess in your palms and the heat rising to your cheeks. "Um…" you began, your voice wavering slightly as you struggled to find the right words. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you shook your head, attempting to deflect the question with a vague response. "We used to be close is all," you muttered, your tone terse as you kept your reply short and to the point.

You hoped your answer would suffice, deflecting any further inquiries about your relationship with Rafe. But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air, knowing that the truth was far more complicated than you were willing to admit.

Topper's laughter cut through the air like a knife, his amusement at your response evident in the way his laughter echoed around you. But it was his next words that struck deep, like a blow to the chest.

"That's a funny way of saying you two dated until he found out you were a backstabbing bitch."

Your eyes widened in shock at the venom in his words, feeling the sting of his insult like a physical blow. The tightness in your throat threatened to suffocate you as you struggled to process the weight of his accusation. Flinching at the sincerity in his voice, you realized with a sinking feeling that Rafe must have confided in Topper about the real reason for your breakup all those years ago.

The truth of his words hit you like a ton of bricks, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume you. Anger, hurt, and betrayal mingled together, leaving you feeling raw and exposed in front of Topper and the rest of the group. You swallowed hard, fighting to keep your composure as you grappled with the devastating revelation that your past had come back to haunt you in the most unexpected of ways.

"What's going on? What are you guys laughing at-" The sound of a familiar voice cut through the laughter like a knife, bringing a sudden halt to the jovial atmosphere. Your heart sank as you recognized the voice, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. And then, as if on cue, his face came into view, confirming your worst fears.

Rafe.

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked gazes with him, feeling a wave of emotions crash over you like a tidal wave. Guilt, fear, and a deep-seated sense of apprehension washed over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence.

As Rafe's eyes scanned the scene before him, confusion flickering across his features, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation that was sure to follow. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread gnawing at your insides as you waited for him to speak.

You watched with bated breath as Rafe's shoulders slumped, a flicker of recognition crossing his features as he realized the source of his friends' laughter. The sight of you, on the verge of tears, must have been a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere he had walked into.

"Rafe! Look who we ran into. Funny, right? Who would've thought she'd show her face here after what she did." Topper's snarl pierced through the tense silence, his gesture pointing towards you as if you were some spectacle to be mocked.

Rafe's expression hardened at Topper's words, a glimmer of warning in his voice as he responded, "Top, knock it off. It's all in the past."

His words were like a lifeline in the midst of the chaos, a reminder that despite the hurt and betrayal of the past, there was still a chance for redemption and forgiveness. You felt a faint flicker of hope stir within you, tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. But for now, in this moment, you clung to Rafe's words as a beacon of hope in the heat of the moment.

Topper's chuckle grated on your nerves, his persistence in dredging up the past only adding fuel to the fire of your emotions. His next words cut through the air like a knife, each syllable laced with venomous intent.

"Oh, c'mon, you hated her guts right after she left. You think I forgot all those times you said she was nothing but a heartless bitch?" Topper's jab landed with precision, causing Rafe's expression to falter, his facade of composure cracking under the weight of his friend's accusations.

Rafe's gaze immediately found yours, searching for any sign of the impact Topper's words had on you. As you met his eyes, he saw the hurt reflected in your expression, a painful reminder of the wounds that had yet to heal. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, hitting him with the force of a truck as he realized the depth of the pain he had caused you.

In that moment, the tension between you and Rafe was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil that lay beneath the surface. And as you held each other's gaze, the weight of the past hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate you both with its unresolved emotions.

Fighting back tears, you clenched your jaw, determined to maintain your composure and professionalism in front of the large group of men. With a quick nod, you shielded your emotions from the prying eyes of the boys surrounding you.

"Right. Well, if you guys need anything, I'll be over here. Enjoy your day," you replied stoically, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within you. Turning on your heel, you swiftly walked away, each step a silent retreat from the painful confrontation unfolding before you. Reaching a nearby golf cart, you wasted no time in packing up your belongings and drinks, your movements brisk and efficient as you prepared to escape to somewhere far away from the suffocating presence of Rafe and his friends.

"Y/N please, wait."

As you hurriedly packed up your things, a voice called out your name from behind, growing closer with each step. You recognized the voice all too well, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. It was Rafe.

Despite knowing it was him, you refused to turn around and acknowledge him. You couldn't bear to face him after everything that had transpired. You knew he was probably coming over to do damage control for his friend's spitefulness, but after what Topper had said, you had heard enough.

"Go away, Rafe," you muttered, your voice tinged with hurt and frustration as you continued to focus on packing up your belongings. It came out more harshly than you intended, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him, not after the pain his friend's words had caused you.

Despite your request, you knew Rafe well enough to anticipate that he wouldn't simply leave until you faced him. His stubbornness had always been both a blessing and a curse to you.

"Y/N, look, I'm sorry about what happened back there. You know Topper, he just says things," Rafe's voice broke through the tension, his tone laced with regret and sincerity.

"So you weren't calling me a heartless bitch while I was gone?" you spat, the bitterness evident in your words as you crossed your arms defensively, turning to face Rafe abruptly. The hurt and anger simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Rafe fell silent, his blue eyes flickering back and forth between yours as he struggled to find the right words. Eventually, he sighed, a gesture of resignation as he brought a hand to his temple in frustration.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that I didn't," he began, his voice heavy with remorse, "and I know it was wrong. But I did it because I was hurt and angry at you for leaving, okay? I shouldn't have said it, but I did, and I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean it."

His admission hung in the air, the weight of his words sinking in as you processed his apology. Despite the pain and anger that still lingered within you, you couldn't deny the sincerity in Rafe's voice. He was vulnerable in that moment, his walls crumbling as he laid bare his regrets and shortcomings.

You felt a twinge of sympathy, recognizing the turmoil that must have plagued him in the aftermath of your departure. And as you looked into his eyes, you saw the flicker of remorse mirrored in his gaze, a silent plea for forgiveness that tugged at your heartstrings.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond to his apology. But deep down, you knew that holding onto resentment would only prolong the pain for both of you. With a sigh, you let your arms fall to your sides, the tension easing from your stance as you met Rafe's gaze with a nod of acknowledgment.

You looked up at him, a softness in your gaze as you nodded, taking in his apology and the acceptance of his words. "We can't keep hurting each other like this, Rafe," you admitted, your voice filled with a mixture of weariness and determination.

The weight of the past hung heavy between you, a reminder of the pain and heartache that had plagued your relationship. But in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope, a longing for a future where the wounds of the past could be healed, and where you and Rafe could find a way to move forward together.

Rafe met your gaze with a solemn nod, his expression reflecting a similar sentiment. "I know, Y/N," he replied softly, his voice tinged with regret, "I don't want to keep making the same mistakes. I want to do better, for both of us." His words resonated with you, stirring a sense of hopefulness within your heart.

As you closed your eyes, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity. The weight of your choices hung heavy on your shoulders, each one fraught with its own set of consequences. You couldn't help but feel torn between loyalty to JJ, your best friend, and the lingering feelings you still held for Rafe, your first love.

The thought of hurting either of them filled you with a profound sense of guilt and despair. You wished you could simply escape from it all, to tune out the world and retreat into solitude where the weight of your decisions couldn't reach you. But you knew that running away wasn't an option, not when the consequences of your actions were looming over you like a storm cloud on the horizon.

With a heavy heart, you knew that you had to face the reality of your situation head-on. No matter how much you wished for an easy way out, the truth was that there was no escaping the difficult choices that lay before you. And as you took another deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenges that lay ahead, you knew that you couldn't afford to remain passive any longer. It was time to confront the complexities of your heart and the tangled web of emotions that bound you to both JJ and Rafe, knowing that the path forward would be anything but easy.

"I still have things to figure out for now, Rafe," you confessed, your voice laced with uncertainty, "and I hope that you can be okay with that until I'm able to do so. I just... I don't want to hurt anyone else more than I've already done."

Rafe's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your dilemma. "I understand, Y/N," he replied gently, his voice a soothing presence amidst the turmoil of your emotions, "I'll respect your need for time and space. Just... know that I'll be here, whenever you're ready."

You offered him a small, grateful smile, the weight of your indecision still heavy on your heart. "Thank you, Rafe," you murmured, hoping that he could sense the depth of your gratitude and the complexity of your emotions.

As you drove across the expansive golf course, the hum of the cart's engine providing a steady backdrop to your turbulent thoughts, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. The weight of the choices you faced seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, threatening to crush you beneath their burden.

You hated the complexity of the situation, the tangled web of emotions that bound you to both JJ and Rafe. It felt like no matter which path you chose, someone would end up hurt, and the thought weighed heavily on your conscience.

Memories of your past with Rafe flashed through your mind, each one a painful reminder of the bond you once shared and the feelings that still lingered beneath the surface. Despite your efforts to move on, it seemed that the past had a way of catching up to you, refusing to let you forget the love you once knew.

And yet, as you navigated the winding paths of the golf course, you knew that you couldn't afford to dwell on the past. The present demanded your attention, and the future loomed uncertain and fraught with challenges.

You spotted JJ outside the lobby building, his expression grave as he motioned for you to come over. Your heart sank as you approached, already bracing yourself for bad news.

"What's going on, Jay?" you asked, your voice tinged with worry as you crossed your arms, waiting for his response.

"Okay, so get this. Pope just called and told me they found out that Ward is trying to track John B before he can expose all of Ward's fucked up lies. Apparently, he has a hit out on him," JJ explained urgently, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Your eyes widened in horror, your arms falling to your sides as you processed the gravity of the situation. The thought of John B being in danger sent a surge of fear coursing through your veins.

"Shit," you breathed, your mind racing as you tried to comprehend the direness of the situation. "We have to do something, Jay. We can't just sit back and let Ward get away with this."

JJ fell silent for a moment, his expression telling you he was hesitant to say whatever it was that he wanted to tell you. You cocked your eyebrow, waiting for him to speak but to no avail.

"Well, what is it JJ?"

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask," JJ began, his tone hesitant as he gauged your reaction. "But we really need you to spy on Rafe again. It's the only way we can find out what Ward's next move is."

You felt a surge of confliction, the memories of your previous attempts to spy on Rafe flooding back with a pang of guilt. "Spy on Rafe?" you repeated, your voice wavering with uncertainty as you processed JJ's request.

"Yeah," JJ confirmed with a solemn nod, his expression grave. "I know it's asking a lot, but we need to know what Ward's planning. Rafe might have some insight that could help us."

Your heart sank at the thought of betraying Rafe's trust once again, but you couldn't deny the urgency of the situation. "But JJ, you know what happened last time I tried to spy on him," you reminded him, your voice tinged with apprehension.

JJ's gaze softened with understanding, his tone gentle as he replied, "I know, Y/N. I'm not asking you to do this lightly. But right now, we need all the information we can get if we're going to take down Ward and keep John B safe."

You shook your head, your gaze falling to the floor, overwhelmed by JJ's request. "JJ, this is a lot to ask... I don't know if I can do this again. I feel like I'm just hurting him all over again."

"Why does it matter if he's hurt? He's Rafe Cameron, he doesn't deserve your pity," JJ countered, his voice tinged with frustration.

You looked up at JJ, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I know he's made mistakes, but he's still a person, JJ. I can't just use him like some pawn in a game," you insisted, your voice tinged with anguish.

"But this isn't about him, Y/N. It's about taking down Ward and keeping John B safe," JJ argued, his tone firm.

You sighed heavily, torn between loyalty to your friends and your own moral compass. "I need some time to think about it, JJ. This isn't a decision I can make lightly," you replied, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

JJ folded his arms, frustration evident on his face. "Well, let me know when you make your decision, although I thought it should be pretty easy considering John B is your friend, too," he stated firmly, his tone laced with disappointment.

You flinched at JJ's words, feeling the weight of his expectations bearing down on you. "I know, JJ. I'll... I'll figure it out," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to meet his gaze.

With that, JJ nodded stoically and turned back around to go into the building, leaving you standing there with the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. You took a deep breath, trying to steel yourself against the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. The gravity of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you feeling torn between loyalty to your friend and the potential consequences of betraying someone you cared about.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, the world seemed to blur around you, the only sound echoing in your ears being the tumultuous beating of your own heart. With each passing moment, the weight of the choice you had to make grew heavier, threatening to crush you under its burden.

But despite the overwhelming uncertainty that loomed over you, one thing remained clear – whatever decision you made would have far-reaching consequences, forever altering the course of your relationships and the trajectory of your life. And as you grappled with the weight of your choices, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any path forward that wouldn't leave you broken and alone in the end.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

taglist: @rrosiitas, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87,

@augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols, @fastlovela, @wickedlovely121, @fals3-g0d, @givemylovetoall, @lucfics, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle, @maybankslover, @peachy4u2, @hockeybabe87, @yeosxxx, @zizouu23, @h34rtsformilli, @maybankslover, @yawnzshit, @rubixgsworld, @tsumudoll

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader

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havendance · 13 hours

Text

Okay, I want to play too. Building off of @dustorange's post and @silverwhittlingknife's post

I think, how I would play this: the circus still happens obviously.

And then Dick dies when he's 16 in circumstances similar to Batman #408, where Dick is shot by the Joker and it causes him to fall to his death. (Dick has to die by falling. To me.) Bruce isn't able to catch him.

Bruce is obviously devastated. Going off of Silver, we'll say no Robin!Jason in this AU. Jason can get away with stealing the tires off of the Batmobile of an extremely grieving Batman. As a treat.

Tim is also devastated. I usually have Tim being 3 at the circus, so I guess he's 11-12 when this happens.

I think the fact that Dick was the only Robin in this scenario means that Tim is more reluctant to push himself as a replacement Robin. That and the fact that his HERO Dick Grayson died means I think that he's slower to act.

Eventually though, things get bad enough in Gotham that he does just because someone has to and he ends up as Robin. We'll handwave the details for now.

I think that Dick should get to come back to life during the Knightfall Saga. As a treat.

He comes back to Gotham just in time to see that there's a new Robin and watch Bruce get his back broken.

Tim's been Robin longer before Knightfall in this AU, so he's got a little more experience, but he's also 14, and while Bruce is lying in the Batcave and they don't know whether he's going to wake up or not, and he's fetching the medicine in that one comic, he runs into this unknown, edgy looking vigilante who blames him for Bruce getting his back broken and it's just everything he's been thinking to himself.

Dick sticks around in Gotham long enough to see that there's a new Batman and of course Bruce has someone else he can get to do that. Of course he doesn't need Dick. He runs off to go do like, black-ops vigilante work somewhere.

I think he and Tim do run into eachother once more before Dick leaves town though and Tim's like 'I know I'll never be as good as the first Robin, but that just means I need to learn everything I can' and tries to bother Dick into teaching him stuff because he can tell that this mysterious vigilante is way more skilled than him.

Dick mostly avoids Gotham, but I think they keep running into each other, coincidentally. Tim ends up teaming up with him during Contagion instead of Catwoman and they're both in Paris at the same time etc etc.

And eventually on one of these team-ups, Dick does a quadruple somersault and Tim sees it and everything clicks together and he imminently runs away because that's Dick Grayson and Tim has been talking up the first Robin all this time and it's a lot okay?

I think this is about when No Man's Land happens so Tim goes to go hide in Gotham and help out Batman and become a National News story and all that jazz instead of thinking about it.

But afterwards, Tim is ON THE CASE. I think he doesn't tell Bruce about this because if Dick hasn't told Bruce then he probably has his reasons? And what he was actually wrong? (Even though he knows he isn't)

And then, um, let's put the Dick and Bruce finally confronting each other during Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive because Dick comes back to Gotham when he hears that Bruce murdered someone because he doesn't want to believe it, but I think he also can't have that same bone deep belief in his innocence that he does in canon because of all the estrangement.

So he attacks Batman and demands to know the truth (without revealing who he is) and Bruce won't answer. Bruce also doesn't know how this mysterious vigilante knows he's Bruce Wayne/got accused of murder, so he low key suspects DICK of framing him, which normally he'd be too busy being Batman full time to care, but here he also recognizes some of Dick's fighting style so he starts investigating him to uncover the mystery.

Meanwhile, Tim noticed that Dick is back in town, so he's trying to recruit Dick to help him get to the bottom of this. He knows Dick's identity now, but he doesn't tell Dick that, he just drops various hints that he knows and hooks Dick up with a line to Oracle (who he has also not shared his conclusions with other than a vague 'there's something about him')

And hmm somehow this all resolves with like, Dick's identity getting out and him and Bruce talking face to face. Bruce is just so desperately amazed that Dick is there, meanwhile Dick still has various issues that are not resolved and it probably ends with Dick running away again and Bruce holding himself back from chasing after him like he desperately wants to. Because if Dick doesn't want anything to do with him then that's just his right because Bruce WAS the one who got him killed.

He does stalk Dick from afar though. Just without initiating contact. Tim and Barbara are more pushy about trying to hang out/talk with Dick in the aftermath.

To skip ahead, I think Bruce leaves Dick the Batmantle after he 'dies' as this last ditch attempt to share how much he loves and respects Dick.

And this getting long so I think I'll call it here.

#batman #dc #bats + birds + affiliated #my au ideas #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #last of the flying graysons #tim tag #utrh dick au #havendance writes #carthago delenda est

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tavs-tressym · 16 hours

Text

Delicious Denial - Chapter Six

(AO3 Link) | Master List

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 3800 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT). Jealous Astarion, lake scene.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

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A/N: Splish splash I was takin' a bath...

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Chapter Six - Splash

Picking a semi-dry spot in the soil, you try not to spill your wine as you lower yourself into a cross-legged position. Astarion does the same beside you, much more gracefully, stretching his legs out and resting his weight on his arms behind him. For a moment, you both take in the serenity of the lake, not injecting a word into the comfortable silence. You focus on your breathing, then on his. The rhythm almost matches, but the more you focus on it, the more irregular it becomes.

“So, the story?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes… Turns out I’m being hunted. Or, was...” He replies, nonchalantly.

You turn to him in confusion. “Hunted? You specifically?”

He nods and looks at you for a moment. His smile leaves his eyes but not his lips as he inspects your face. He sighs and looks down. “I corrected you last night. I told you that I’m a vampire spawn. Remember?”

“What’s the difference?”

He scoffs at your naivety, shaking his head. “Everything. A true vampire has power. A spawn… Is a slave- no, less than a slave. Our master speaks, our bodies react…” He takes a deep breath, steadying his nerves. “My ma-... old master is Cazador Szarr, a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. He turned me two-hundred years ago, and for two-hundred years, he has been my tormentor… He wants me back...”

You nod, thoughtfully. It’s hard for you to picture a man so well kept and confident in such a position. Then something clicks. “Szarr… As in, Szarr Palace?”

He cocks his head in intrigue. “The very same. You know it?”

“Yes. Or, at least, the outside of it. I was never allowed in… It always looked so grand. To think, it’s been crawling with vampires this whole time…” You look to the floor as unpleasant memories flash before you: Hands. Dragging you along as you tripped on cobbles, the thunk of palace doors, the sun drying your lips as you waited for hours at a time, not allowed to sit, not allowed to move, not allowed to think…

Astarion furrows his brow in concentration as he inspects your face, desperately trying to remember if he has (and praying he hasn’t) seen you before. You snap yourself out of your spiral and are startled by the intensity of his eyes. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing…” He looks away and you do the same.

A moment of contemplation passes as you draw patterns with your finger on your knee. “I’m sorry… Two-hundred years, it-... it sounds awful.”

He rolls his eyes, flippantly, clearly reluctant to accept your sympathy. “Ugh… Well… Thank you, darling.” He leans back a little, silently thankful that the difficult sharing portion of the conversation is over.

The side of your mouth curls into a subtle grin. His stubbornness is endearing, in a way, and you suppose you can hardly blame him, the last thing you would want is pity either. So, you decide to move onto the facts of the situation: “How did you escape?”

“I was in the middle of er- doing Cazador’s bidding when the mind flayers snatched me. Ever since I was infected with this tadpole, his commands haven’t been able to reach me.” He can’t help but smile as he tips wine into his mouth.

“Hm, that’s lucky.” You are about to take a sip of your own wine when you decide to raise the cup in a toast instead. “To being lucky.”

He chuckles, softly and clinks the cups together. “To being very fucking lucky.”

After swallowing the tart wine, you trace your finger around the rim of the cup in thought. You want to ask him why he’s telling you this, but before you can speak the words, he stands and walks closer to the lake. His hands find the hem of his bloodied shirt and he begins to lift it. “Woah! What are you doing?!” You cover your eyes with your hand.

He pauses his motion and laughs. “Well, as lovely an accessory as the blood of my enemies is, I don’t fancy wearing it throughout the night.”

“Oh, right, okay, I’ll let you get on with it then.” You stand, still blocking your vision and start backing away, using your free hand to feel out for any obstacles.

Then cold, smooth fingers wrap around yours. “Darling, not to be rude, but when was the last time you bathed?” Your eyes widen behind your hand and you sniff under your arm…

Okay… It has been a while…

“I won’t look, I promise. Not unless you want me to.” He purrs, the sound of his voice making you blush and scoff. Then you feel something solid placed in your hand. It’s cube shaped and a little slippery. You brush your thumb over it, popping tiny bubbles on it’s surface. Soap. The thought of bathing next to each other is both incredibly enticing and terrifying. You wonder if you can truly trust him not to look, or if this whole thing is just some manipulative, gross attempt for him to get in your pants. But presently, you can’t even read his face. No, it’s too much, too soon. You can’t do this… At least… Not alone…

You pretend to be unaware of his intentions and pray to all the gods that he can’t see through your feigning of innocence. “Hold on, I’ll ask the others.”

“The others?” You feel his grip on your hand loosen.

“Surely, it’s been a while for everyone. You weren’t planning on keeping me all to yourself now, were you?” You smirk and turn away, removing your hand and allowing vision to return to your eyes. You hear him chuckle as you saunter off towards camp.

The others agree to join you, with Gale nodding a little too eagerly. “Yes!” Karlach fist pumps the air in excitement as Shadowheart looks up at her, smirking. Even Lae’zel takes you up on the offer, quickly retrieving her things with a seductive gaze towards Wyll, who bashfully agrees too. Together, you make your way back to the lake; towels and soap in hand.

The water is up to Astarion’s chest, concealing everything but his pale shoulders from your view. Just as he notices you and begins to grin, he is immediately consumed by a wave crashing into him, followed by Karlach’s cackles. Somehow she is already in nothing but her underclothes and bobbing her head above the surface, revelling in the feeling of crisp, cold water soothing her blazing skin. “Come on! Get in!” She shouts. Astarion’s head appears again, curls straightened by the weight of the water and flopping over his face, you can’t help but laugh. Shadowheart and Lae’zel waste no time and follow in Karlach’s footsteps, swiftly undressing and stepping into the water. Lae’zel looks behind her at Wyll and beckons him with a gesture of her hand. He clears his throat and begins to unbutton his shirt.

Suddenly, warm breath tickles your ear. “Can I tell you a secret?” Startled, you look behind you to see Gale, cheeks red and bashful. “I’m a tad nervous about all this…” He definitely looks like it, it’s sweet. You smile warmly then take a step back and look him up and down. He’s clearly an attractive man and that robe, although humble, clings to his soft yet somehow firm physique. “W-what is it?”

“Just surprised that you are nervous about this, that’s all.” You smirk at him, playfully.

He chuckles. “Ah, well, thank you,” He tucks his hair behind his ear. “But that’s not it, exactly. It’s just a bit… Exposing…”

You nod, understandingly. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry, I am well aware. But gods, if I’m totally honest… Tav, I stink.”

You giggle. “Me too. Come, we can do it together.”

You hold out your hand and lead him closer to the lake where you begin to undo your pants, not seductively in any way, just like you would if you were alone in your tent. But that doesn’t stop Gale from having to clear his throat and pull his eyes away from you to undo his robe, revealing the white wrap shirt and leather pants beneath. As you slide off your trousers over your plump thighs and step out, your, now untucked, burnt orange shirt flows halfway over your rear. You stand straight and struggle with the tight fastenings of your shirt. You sigh, annoyed at the effort. “Do you… Um… Need help?” Gale asks, sheepishly. You chuckle and nod, stepping closer. He tries to maintain his composure as he reaches for the knot above your chest. You look up at him, amused by his embarrassment.

You notice the several difficult knots that hold his wrap shirt together. “Thanks, um… Do you need help?”

“Oh-um… Yes, please. Thank you.” You smile and work on undoing the shirt until it’s hanging off his body. He pulls away and shrugs off the fabric. You lift yours above your head, feeling his eyes on your body as your vision is momentarily blocked by the linen of your shirt. Once you can see again, he’s already looking away.

Taking his hand again, you step into the water together. It’s delightfully warm, thanks to Karlach who’s having a splash fight with Shadowheart not too far away. You close your eyes and sigh as the water soothes aches and embraces skin. Gale, too, revels in the feeling, wading a little further into the lake, letting go of your hand as the surface swallows his body up to his chest. Opening your eyes at the loss of contact, you follow him. His eyes find yours again, smiling, grateful for your company. You smile back, eyes trailing down his face and focusing on the design between his collarbones. You mustn’t have been very subtle about it as you see his hand emerging from the water to touch it.

“It’s pretty.”

He smiles. “Thank you… It’s not here by choice though, I’m afraid.”

“Is it something to do with that bomb-thing in your chest?”

He furrows his brows in surprise and confusion. “How did you…” You gesture towards Astarion who’s washing himself at a distance from the rest of the group, sulking. “Ah…” Gale looks down, irritated, an emotion you haven’t seen from him before. “I didn’t give him permission to tell you about that… But,” He sighs, letting his hand drop beneath the water again. “Oh well, you know now…”

You bite your lip in regret, you didn’t want to cause any rifts between them. You try to save it. “I don’t know much, just that it’s there and you have to consume magical items to stop it from killing us all.” You avoid the topic of Mystra, unsure of how he would feel about you knowing about her.

He chuckles at your blunt delivery. “That’s certainly a simplified way of putting it…” He takes a deep breath, clearly feeling a little awkward and lathers his soap, offering you the bar to do the same. You take it and scrub the bubbles into your skin.

You avoid looking at each other as you wash yourselves, then after a loud silence, he cuts through it. “Would you believe me if I told you it was all my fault?” You look at him with a raised eyebrow and shrug. He laughs. “Fair enough, I suppose you don’t know me all that well yet… It was an accident. I was trying to impress someone, but it went too far.” He shakes his head in shame.

“A girl?” You ask with a teasing smirk.

He laughs again. “A goddess. My goddess. Although, I don’t think she’d appreciate me calling her that anymore. I was one of her chosen… And later, her lover.” He pauses for effect, as painful as it is to relive the memories, he can’t resist a humble brag. You raise an eyebrow and nod slowly, understandingly and not wanting to press him for more information. As much as you want to ask about it and as hard as it is to believe that a mere mortal can satisfy a goddess, his wounds seem too fresh. “When she found out what I’d done, she cast me aside. We haven’t spoken since.” His slight smile drops and he stares into the rippling water.

“I’m sorry… It sounds like you were really close.”

He nods, taking a deep breath. “Yes, well, that was then. And, I suppose, this is now.” He looks up at you and offers a bittersweet smile, you return it.

The moment is interrupted by a large splash of water over you both, startled, you look around, frantically, and find Astarion, closer than before, making his way past you, heading to the shallow end. “Whoops.” He states, unconvincingly. You scoff at his pettiness.

“Excuse me, Gale. I’m getting the slightest feeling that someone wants my attention. I’ll see you later.” He goes to say something, but instead he smiles and nods, resuming his bath. You, however, charge full steam ahead through the water, following Astarion.

The surface lowers as you move, revealing more and more of your body, concealed only by your underclothes. “Oi! Get back here!” He laughs, pleased to hear that you’re following him. The cold air hits your chest and you start to shiver, eager to submerge yourself back into the warm water, but you’re determined now and Astarion annoyed you. You follow the back of his head as his shoulders become a torso, above the water. You stop. You stop because you see them.

Scars.

Gods above…

Raised and red, curving into circular, indecipherable language. An abhorrent marking of possession. Of property. Between painful lines are glimpses of untouched, undefiled skin. A fractured memory of what it was before. It’s terrible, it’s tragic, it’s poetry and it’s torture.

He hears your halt in movement and turns around, eyes already low and prepared to gaze at your form, which he does. He follows your lines until he meets your face. Your eyes are wide, lips are parted, brows are knitted. It’s something he never wanted to see on your sweet face: Pity. For a moment he forgot about it, the burden he carries, the weight on his back. He’s shocked to realise it and even more shocked to realise this isn’t the first time it’s happened when he’s around you. But he pushes the thought aside and clears his throat. He looks away in shame, suddenly feeling creeping vulnerability on his exposed skin.

SPLASH!

With no time to react, Astarion is engulfed in a wave of surging water. It’s not enough to knock him over, like Karlach’s, but it’s enough to drench him again. He gasps and wipes his eyes, peaking through the blur to see your determined grin and readied stance. You might be shit on the battlefield, but this is no typical fight. This is a motherfucking water fight.

He laughs, relieved to have the moment of tension broken. It’s infectious and you giggle along with him, momentarily lowering your guard. A mistake.

SPLASH!

“Oh, you motherfu-!”

SPLASH!

He cackles at your sopping wet state, slicking back his hair, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Each time he tries to open his eyes, he sees your hair dripping and sticking to your fierce, determined face, setting off another bout of laughter. You giggle for a moment, appreciating the unrestrained sound that rumbles from deep within his chest. “Alright, alright, it’s not that funny.”

He half regains his composure. “Oh but it is, darling. It really is.”

You flick him with the drops that formed around your fingertips. He scrunches his face in a delightful way as they hit him and chuckles. In retaliation, he cups his hands and lowers them below the surface until they’re full, and moves closer, taunting you with it. “Nooo! No! No! Don’t you dare!” You scream and laugh, frantically wading backwards through the water to get away from him. He follows closely, laughing at your panic as he raises his hands over your head, preparing to drop it. You try to duck away but he lets go at just the right time. You narrow your eyes up at him through the drops cascading down your face. He smugly peers down at you, chuckling softly. For a moment, you both just stay there, laughing at each other, dripping with lake water.

Then all of a sudden, he’s leaning in. No, he’s throwing himself at you. No, he’s… Falling? His face lights up with panic as he’s forced forward, you hold your arms out, bracing yourself for the impact. “Shit, sorry!” cries Wyll. Astarion tries to grab onto your shoulder to steady himself but it’s not enough and he crashes into you anyway, pushing you down with him. The water, although shallow enough to comfortably stand in, is deep enough that lying flat isn’t really an option. You’re submerged in the water, the gasp you took as you fell, being the only air in your lungs. Your head hits the rocky ground with a muffled yelp. An arm curls around your waist, pulling you up for air. You inhale and cough.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, just bumped my head. But, I’m fine.” Moving your hand up to rub the injury, you’re surprised to touch a colder hand, already rubbing it better. You wipe the water from your eyes and open them to find a heavy breathing Astarion over you, scanning your face with fierce concern. You take in the sight of his worried, wide eyes: a change from his usual, steel-crafted mask. His fingers find the sore spot on your crown and massage it in circles. He’s doing it a little too hard and so you wince, but don’t stop him. It’s a strange sight, a strange experience to watch him do this. One you can’t quite pull your eyes away from.

“Oh, gods, Tav! Are you alright?! I’m so sorry!” Wyll rushes to your side. You flick your eyes to him and notice a new addition to his skin: peppered hickeys along his neck and collarbone. You can only assume what he and Lae’zel were up to before knocking you both over with such force. A badly stifled snort of laughter emerges from you, causing Astarion to look at Wyll in confusion, only to fall into the same trap and start laughing himself, but he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. Wyll follows your eyes and covers his neck with his hand, bashfully.

Lae’zel steps behind him, looking down at the little gathering impatiently before speaking. “Wyll. I don’t like waiting. And I wasn’t finished tasting you.” Her words inspire another intense, red blush on Wyll’s cheeks and a roar of laughter from you and Astarion.

You compose yourself enough to get some words out. “I’m fine, really. Don’t let me stop your… ‘Tasting’.”

As Wyll clears his throat, nods and shuffles away with Lae’zel, you return your attention to Astarion, still hovering over you and chuckling at them. Once you become a little too aware of his knee, sitting between your thighs, you decide it’s time to stand up. “I-um, I can probably get back up now.”

“Hm? Oh, of course.” He quickly retreats, his hand slips away from your scalp and you shiver at the gentle loss of contact. Now standing, he holds his hand out for you. You take it, sliding your palm into his and letting him hold your weight as you lift yourself out of the water.

As you emerge once again, he avoids gazing at your body, with effort. You giggle. “It’s alright, it’s not like Gale didn’t get an eye-full earlier.” His eyes narrow at the thought but turns it into a smirk. You grin right back and turn around, wringing out your hair, flipping it back and intentionally whipping him with it. He playfully scoffs. You turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder. You take the moment to subtly glide your gaze over his lean, toned body. Porcelain skin, gleaming in moonlight. Before you lose yourself in the sight, you look away.

In turning back to him and noticing that his eyes are nowhere near locked on yours, he reminds you that he’s not the only one exposed. You, too, are down to nothing but your underwear, and he seems to like it. For a moment, you consider covering yourself, but instead you choose to embrace it, resting your weight on one hip. “So, you, very rudely, interrupted our conversation and now you have my attention. What did you want?” He yanks his eyes away from your body and flicks them back to your face. He clears his throat and begins to speak but can’t find the words. He didn’t think that far ahead, he just knew he wanted you to look at him.

“I was just trying to save you from whatever tedious trivia Gale was, no doubt, spewing.” He shrugs and smirks. You chuckle and shake your head. “It was a delightful conversation, actually. Thank you very much.”

“Ah, then by all means, my dear!” He gestures towards Gale, knowing you won’t turn back now.

You grin and walk towards the shore. “Actually, I think I should probably get out before I turn into a prune.”

He watches as you pass him, pondering whether or not to follow. You step on cold soil and reach for your towel, patting away the moisture on your body and scrunching your hair, encouraging the natural waves to bounce back. You turn back, towel now secured around your chest to observe the scene before you: Gale rinsing out his hair and making his way to shore, Astarion drying himself in the corner of your vision, Shadowheart making a pathetic attempt at a backstroke and Karlach hovering, coaching and cheering her on. Wyll and Lae’zel are nowhere to be seen.

Probably for the best…

You smile at the sight and make your way back to your tent, soaking in the scent of burnt wood from the remnants of the campfire. On the way, you spot Scratch, curled up by the entrance of Karlach’s tent, snoozing away. Ducking under your tent flap, you slip off your towel, undress and wrap yourself snugly in your bedroll.

Hesitant, shuffling footsteps approach, followed by a hesitant, warm voice. “Goodnight, Tav. I… I enjoyed talking to you tonight. Thank you… For listening.”

You smile. “Goodnight Gale, I enjoyed listening.” With a deep breath, he walks away and the flap of his tent is the last thing you hear before a new set of footsteps take his place.

These are stronger, bouncier, unashamed of the space they occupy. They stop outside your tent and for a moment, it’s silent. You’re tempted to poke your head out, but instead you wait…

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

“Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous Chapter

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ladypeonies · 15 hours

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Unknown- The Bed.

How many scenes do we have of Qian and Yuan in Qian’s bed? In the series Qian’s bed practically becomes a secondary character, a witness and the set of so many interesting or pivotal moments. In episode 3, lying on the bed, their discussion foresees what’s going to happen, Yuan’s going abroad. And his reluctance to go is even clearer while his eyes are on his older brother as he listens to him speak.

‘I want to stay with you like this forever,’ he says. In the morning, we get a glimpse of Yuan’s dream, and it’s basically the first time in the series he’s truly happy. There is no hesitation, sadness in his behaviour. His smile, his happiness is so palpable. And we, the audience can’t help but being moved by that. On another note, I feel like Chris was really sleeping in that scene lol, he has a couple of spasms in his fingers which one can’t really pretend to have. But perhaps he’s just that great of an actor.

Then you have episode 5, after Yuan confesses he likes boys. Qian is as always, his little brother's guardian, as San Pang leaves, he let him sleep, covering him. I love how Qian doesn’t care if San Pang saw them sleeping in the same bed. He won’t let Yuan feel like an outcast. The whole world could hate him, but he won’t let him feel unwelcome.

The beginning of episode 8 when Qian finally gets a real glimpse of his brother after so long and he is caught. How the night changes, now Qian is the one watching him sleep. And you can see the distance that Yuan is keeping for now. He isn’t sleeping next to his brother like he used to, only his head is on the bed. There is a cut in (Youku BTS) where we see Yuan coming to Qian’s bedroom, to check on him, pull the cover over him and then sleeping there. Also force of habit, Yuan needed to make sure his brother was fine and he came in the room to ensure that. As San Pang says in another episode, ‘Yuan can’t bear to leave you alone.’

Still in that episode Yuan call his Ge, Wei Qian for the first time while sitting on Qian’s bed, showing him that now he’s grown up.

The beginning of episode 10 is my favourite ‘bed’ scene, the pace, the music, the darkness is so beautiful. Yuan, who was calling him by his name, reminds him that he’s still his little brother, and he knows Qian wouldn’t be indifferent to his call. I find it slightly manipulative lol, but it’s well done. Qian can’t refuse Yuan’s request to sleep with him anyways because he needs it too. He didn’t voice it but him as well had been scared to death. Qian’s voice over is one of the most heartbreaking, it’s in his tone, the crack in his voice the way he delivers those lines are so moving. And lying in this bed, with Yuan in his arms, we can feel his walls are starting crumbling down.

Episode 11 comes and the bed becomes the haven of their love. Innocence lost, bliss found. It’s also where the morning after all of Yuan’s dreams come true, he has his brother all to himself.

And this bed witnessed Yuan’s dream until he made it true. Qian’s bed is their territory, an island, a haven where they don’t even need to talk but can just feel.

#Unknown the series #unknown the series spoilers #Unknown bl

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petit-papillion · 2 days

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It might be me but lately all videos I’ve seen of Charles he’s basically getting mobbed. Maybe it was always like this but it seems extreme. The other day Alexandra walked away from the cafe on her own and Charles picked her up from the side of the road a bit away from the cafe because the cafe/car was once again completely surrounded by people. I hope he starts either taking a bodyguard around or just stops stopping so much for people because the constant mobbing seems terrible

No, it's definitely not always been like this. And I think that especially in Monaco there has been an increase in fan presence, with last year people absolutely crossing the line by harassing him at his home. From an interview with Monaco-matin last May:

Now granted, when he goes to lunch with Alex and Leo at what is basically a tourist attraction and sits out on the terrace for the world to see, he should expect there to be a crowd. Not condoning people crowding him the way they do, but he should know beforehand this will not be an easy in and out.

The same goes for when he is in Maranello, especially when Charles himself has said that's where he will be, you can expect there to be fans outside the factory.

In some hotels it's been getting extreme (I can't quite recall whether it was last year or the year before in Mexico or Brazil that it got quite crazy already), but I think that also is a matter of the hotels needing to manage this better. In Montreal there are a lot of fans, but they have them outside, with barriers, so the drivers can go up to them and sign in peace (or go straight in if they're tired). Versus what we just saw in Shanghai where Charles was driven to the point where he batted away someone shoving a mini helmet in his face to get signed. I've NEVER seen him do something like that before. And he should just not be put in the position where he is being mobbed like that in a hotel lobby.

So yes, while some of these situations could be resolved by hotels being better prepared, Charles could also do with a bodyguard. Or at the very least, ask the fans to leave him alone at certain times, like when he's having dinner in Monaco. I think he may be reluctant to do the latter, because he does go to a lot of promotional events as well, and then he wants to be seen/photographed for his personal brand and/or a sponsor. Plus let's face it: he also loves all the attention, knows it won't last forever, and never forgets how much it means to fans to meet him or get his autograph/selfie.

#personally i would love for him to get a massive human for a bodyguard #and then have charles give leo to him #while he signs autographs #i'd pay to see a big bulky man twice the size of charles #holding leo in one hand and protecting charles from pushy fans with the other #seriously though #i do think it's getting a little hairy for charlea at times #and it only takes accidentally ticking off an onsessive fan once #for something awful to potentially happen to him #not something anyone wants to think about #but he should seriously get protection at this point #charles leclerc #about charles and fame #anon ask

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 2 days

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summary: you are watching a movie with Ross and he’s the sweetest

a blurb

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Your girls talked you into watching 'me before you‘, and now you’re on the couch, snuggled up on Ross‘ chest, watching the most cruelest scene. It was a serene moment, with the only sounds being the gentle hum of the movie and the occasional sniffle from you.

Ross is engrossed in the film, doesn’t immediately notice your tears. But as your sniffles turn into quiet sobs, he turns his attention to you, a teasing grin playing on his lips, while his arm wraps around your shoulder.

“You alright there love?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. You wipe way a tear and sniffle, giving him a playful glare.

“It’s a sad movie, okay?” Ross chuckles softly, reaching over to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sure,” he still has a shit-eating grin on his face, you playfully swat his arm away from you.

“It is!” you try to convince him, “she just died and they loved each other so much.” You frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest, waiting for him to break.

"Alright, alright. Come here,” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively as you lean into his embrace. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Still can’t handle romantic movies, I see,” he teases. At the beginning of your relationship you forced him to watch romantic movies. Really sad ones. You should be getting used to the same endings but you’re not.

"Oh, please. Like you're any better. I've seen you tear up over a sad commercial." Ross feigns offense, clutching his heart dramatically.

"Oi, that was one time, and it was a particularly moving advert about... I don't even remember what it was about, but it was moving, alright?" You laugh, leaning into his embrace, feeling comforted by his warmth.

"Sure, Ross. Whatever you say.” Ross presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice softening.

“Wanna keep watching?” He asks and you nod because one, you can’t start movies and then not end it, second, you know you’ll fall asleep in the next 15 minutes.

It’s late. Almost 1 am, but you love to spend couch time with Ross. You nudge him to lay across the couch, so you can completely lay on top of him.

You drape the blanket over the both of you, and snuggle close, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

“Shouldn’t we head to bed?” You mumble something incoherent (‘I’m comfy here'), not quite ready to leave the warmth of his arms.

Ross chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "I can see that. But the couch isn't the most comfortable place to sleep, you know."

You let out a soft sigh, nuzzling closer to him. You tell him you don’t want to move, and tell him only a few more minutes. Ross smiles down at you, his eyes filled with affection.

"Alright, fair enough. But if you wake up with a sore neck tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you." You playfully swat at his chest, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” Ross wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He lifts your head then, by grabbing your chin, to give you the sweetest kiss.

“But if you change your mind, I'll be more than happy to carry you to bed." You smile and kiss his chest as a small ‘thank you’ gesture.

You remain in the same embrace, the movie fading out into the background as you focus more on Ross’ heartbeat.

Time passes and you stay like this until the credits of the movie roll. Ross takes the remote and switches the TV off, only street lights illuminating the living room.

“Darling, you awake?” You blink groggily, the haze of sleep clouding your thoughts as you turn to look up at him.

“Barely I see,” he chuckles, “c’mon love, our bed is so much comfier.”

“You win, carry me though?” You let out a tired laugh, knowing he was right but still reluctant to leave your current spot of coziness.

Ross grins, his arms already shifting beneath you as he prepares to lift you from the couch.

“As you wish my dear,” With a gentle heave, Ross effortlessly lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you towards the bedroom. You nestle against him, feeling safe and secure in his embrace as he teases and teases you along the way.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ross preps a row of kisses to your head, his heart swelling with love for you. He tucks you under the blanket and then wrapping you up in his arms.

“Thank you Ross,” you mumble, “I love you.” He kisses your neck in return, mumbling a quiet “I love you” back.

In this position you drift off to sleep.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald blurb

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bloodfiresandabram · 2 days

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me: posts a snippet of the fic i started

me: doesn't do anything else for like a month

anyway, hey, here's another snippet because me giving in to the urge to write fics for aftg (and probably also tsc once i read it) has made me borderline feral with the need to write, write, and keep writing

Neil doesn’t mention his mother very often, not even to Andrew. Even thinking about her leaves him feeling conflicted, and while he can logically tell himself that Andrew’s distaste towards Mary is based on violent truth, whenever someone else points it out it becomes difficult to swallow down his urge to get defensive. If he’s being honest with himself, he can’t decide how he feels about her anymore. There’s a concoction of emotions that always swirl together in his head in a way, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

He knows that Bee is aware of Mary because he knows that Andrew and Aaron have talked about Mary during their joint sessions. He knows this because Andrew had asked if he could bring her up, making it very clear that he wouldn’t give any details that Neil wasn’t okay with, but also making it clear that Aaron would likely lose some of his continuous animosity towards Neil if he knew something that he could relate to. “And what better for you to bond over,” Andrew had drawled with falsified disinterest, “than abusive mothers who died in cars.” Neil hadn’t flinched back at those words, but Andrew was looking at him intently like he was expecting it anyway. When Neil gave him blanket permission, he cocked a bro but didn’t bring it up again.

A few weeks later Aaron approached Neil between classes, looking disgruntled and reluctant and kind of annoyed, but he huffed a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest defensively and leveled Neil with a look that wasn’t completely scathing. “Your mom,” he said, then stopped, grimacing to himself as Neil looked at him curiously, making himself stay quiet and patient, something he often isn’t. Eventually Aaron managed to string his words together, though it was obvious that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke. “She wasn’t good to you,” he said. “But you loved her, right? And maybe you still do, but you feel like you shouldn’t?”

Neil had faltered at those words. “She kept me alive,” he said slowly.

“But maybe that wasn’t good enough,” Aaron replied.

The topic wasn’t funny, but Neil huffed out a laugh anyway. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Aaron had looked at him a moment longer, brows pinched together. Then, without another word, Aaron spun around on his heel and walked away. Neither of them have broached the topic again, and Neil has no plans to do so anytime soon, but Aaron has been a little bit less hostile towards him ever since.

fic is currently at 14k words (but this snippet is from the first 3k). i will probably post more snippets as i write it and eventually, at some point, actually finish it and then post the fucking thing o7

#aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard

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minghaoslatina · 3 days

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12:31 am ✰ JONGHO

now playing 🎧 goodnight n go by ariana grande

You and Jongho just finished watching a movie, and as usual, you find that you both don't want to say goodbye just yet. You suggest heading to a nearby convenience store to grab some snacks and drinks. As you browse the aisles, you notice Jongho grabbing multiple bags of Haribo gummy bears, and you can't help but tease him about it.

"For someone who claims to hate sugar, you sure look like you need it," you joke, causing him to chuckle.

Jongho then playfully points out your addiction to strawberry milk, and you both laugh. You decide to grab two small cartons of strawberry milk, and Jongho pays for the snacks and drinks.

As you walk out of the store, you can't help but feel grateful for these little moments with Jongho, even if it means sacrificing a bit of sleep.

As the night continues, you and Jongho continue to chat and snack while walking towards your college dorm. You can sense that the time has come to say goodnight, as you have an early class and Jongho has an early schedule. You both stand facing each other in front of your dorm with bittersweet smiles.

"I hate this part," you say, taking Jongho's hand. He brings your hand closer to him and gently kisses the back of it.

"I'll be completely free next week," Jongho reminds you, handing you a bag of gummy bears to keep. You nod in agreement, "Okay, text me when you get home, please."

Jongho nods his head, and you can see a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Goodnight, handsome," you tease, knowing his face always gets red whenever you use an endearing nickname.

"Goodnight," Jongho shyly replies, looking away with a grin. You both stay rooted to your spots, not ready to see each other leave, even if it's only for a few days.

Suddenly, the door to your dorm opens, revealing your best friend. "Say goodnight and go, love birds," she teases and drags you inside. You both repeat "goodnight" to one another as Jongho slowly walks backward, not wanting to leave just yet. The moment is filled with a sense of longing and a desire to stay together just a little longer.

You find yourself standing at the door, watching Jongho walk away. As he turns to leave, you wave goodbye, your heart overflowing with love. Your best friend notices the lovestruck expression on your face and grins knowingly. You feel a rush of emotions as you slowly close the door and lean against it. You can't help but recall all the sweet moments you have shared with Jongho, from the first time you met to the most recent conversation you had.

As Jongho walks back to his dorm, he gazes up at the starry sky, lost in his thoughts of you. The sound of your sweet voice echoes in his mind, and he can't help but smile as he remembers the sound of your laughter. The memory of your touch lingers on his skin, and he longs to be with you again.

In the quiet of the night, both of you whisper the words you have held back for so long, "I love you." The words feel weightless and heavy at the same time, and you can't wait to say them out loud to each other.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

a/n 💌

jongho has been bias wrecking me so bad since coachella, so I had to write this!! 🤭 I hope it was okay 🫶🏼 I’m about to post my short seonghwa fic <3

#jongho x reader #jongho #jongho ateez #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez timestamps #ateez jongho #jongho x y/n #jongho x you

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rorynni · 8 hours

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i know boy parents aruani is somewhat controversial in the fandom right now BUT HEAR ME OUT ON LONG HAIR ARUANI SON PLS

also some headcanons:

- He learned to walk and run really early (Annie’s genes) so the toddler phase was really fun. Annie could handle him easily but he probably outran his dad so many times that it left Armin questioning his eight years of being a trained soldier.

- The kid knew how to read by age four (Armin insists that this isn’t that extraordinary but he probably also learned to read at like three years old).

- He didn’t get a first haircut until he was three, and by the time he was two his hair was shoulder length. Annie put it in a little ponytail a couple times and it just stuck.

- Since Armin was very feminine as a kid and got a lot of shit for it growing up, he was a little reluctant about leaving their son’s hair long and probably initially wanted him to get it cut shorter. He decided it was okay since it was tied up and no one really mistook him for a girl.

- Annie was reluctant to teach their child martial arts, since she didn’t want to feel like she was forcing it on him like her father did to her. After being begged approximately 7283 times, she started giving him age appropriate lessons and teaching her technique in a healthy way.

- He’s taller than both his parents by the time he’s sixteen (much to Armin’s dismay).

- Armin really wanted him to share his interest in the ocean but instead he’s really fascinated by outer space.

- Much like Annie, he tends to be quiet and keeps to himself.

- Aunt Mikasa is his favourite.

- Jean, Connie, Reiner and Pieck are very betrayed by this fact.

i might add more later

#attack on titan #aot #snk #armin arlert #annie leonhart #aruani #my art

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cinnamontails-ff · 22 hours

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Why this is the perfect cover for "Accountant's Guide"

Alright, folks! It’s been a week of coming to terms with my overflowing emotions regarding this beautiful piece of cover art for the Ukrainian translation of Accountant’s Guide, and I am ready to wrestle it all into an essay.

Spoilers for the story ahead! It’s been finished since September 2023, so either read it here or proceed at your own risk!

First off, a huge, huge thank you to Marko_Wowchok for taking the time to translate my work and of course, the incredible @razinbee for creating a cover that, quite frankly, I could see as an ad for the next Studio Ghibli movie. You are both so very talented and your love and care for my story is so, so appreciated!

Now, as for the piece itself: Let’s start with the choice of showing just their hands, clasped intimately atop a piece of paper. It’s something I never would have come up with in a million years, but it’s absolutely genius. There’s a sense of subtlety to it. It leaves room for imagination because you don’t actually see what they’re doing; it’s simply implied that they’re most likely going at it on the desk (again). I love this. Because while I wrote Accountant’s Guide as a romance (and it does contain explicit spicy scenes), my goal was always to write Astarion and Scarlett as partners first and lovers second. I am really not a fan of romance stories that rely on physical attraction alone. Basically, if the story wouldn’t work with both of them being ugly, it’s not for me.

Astarion and Scarlett come together as reluctant allies at first. Scarlett offers him a deal to take out Cazador together and Astarion agrees mostly as a way of keeping himself entertained. He does not believe for a moment that she might actually succeed and he is actively planning to throw her to Cazador’s feet at the earliest convenience. But simply by working together, they start to grow closer over time.

Scarlett is the first person in centuries to treat him like a normal guy™. She is a very practical person - she has to be in order to willingly cooperate with the man who’s led her sister to her death. And while she isn’t immune to his flirting, she ignores it because she is painfully aware that he’s way out of her league and nothing good can ever come from that. It is only when she starts to see his vulnerable sides that she develops feelings for him and he, in turn, for her. At this point, however, they’ve both already saved each other’s lives several times. She has fed him when he was starving and he has slaughtered a bunch of guards that interrupted his poorly planned heist/date idea. They know each other, trust each other, rely on each other – they are a team in every sense of the word. When they do eventually share their first kiss in chapter 13, it is a powerful scene (if I do say so myself), but it is also really just one more layer to the bond that they have cultivated over the course of many months. Showing their clasped hands and nothing else is such a fantastic way to visualize the depth of their connection. It is a gesture of companionship and trust as well as intimacy and romance.

Then there is the positioning of their hands: Astarion’s on top of Scarlett’s, his fingers pinning her down, while her fingers are splayed out helplessly - dare I say, ecstatically. It is a stunning representation of their romantic dynamic. Astarion is the experienced, confident sex god who usually takes the lead, while Scarlett hasn’t done a whole lot of things before meeting him and is generally happy to go along with whatever he has in mind. He is her first. He is the one who shows her everything her body can do and he is careful in taking things step by step, working her up from missionary to slightly kinkier stuff all the way to her sitting on his face in “Pocket Money”. His hand on top of hers, holding her and guiding her, is a beautiful depiction of that.

At the same time, I like how the tenseness of his fingers in contrast to her more relaxed posture indicates how much he clings to her. After two centuries of being Cazador’s slave, Scarlett is literally the first time Astarion has anything that is his own. She is his first genuine connection, a lover he’s picked for himself, as well as his savior in helping to break him free from Cazador. He is terrified of losing her, so much so that he even tries to convince her to let him turn her into a vampire, so she won’t die before him. None of that is a perfectly healthy relationship dynamic, mind you, but who could expect that from him after what he’s been through? She is his lifeline. His anchor. The one glimmer of hope in two centuries and this man is ready to eviscerate any vampire lord, spawn, or magic teacher (sorry, Gale!) who so much as threatens to come in between them.

I also want to shout out how the softness and subtlety of their clasped hands reflects how their relationship has to unfold in secret. The second half of Accountant’s Guide lives off the tension of them plotting their plan B while living under the same roof as Cazador, both of them bound to him in different ways. They are in his house, their every move under constant scrutiny by Cazador as well as his spawn, and one wrong step could be the end for both of them. Those are absolutely cruel circumstances to be building a relationship in. Astarion has to make up lies to Cazador as to how he has gained access to a more regular blood supply. He has to pretend to be disgusted with her, so Cazador will continue to send him to comfort her, not one of the other spawn. Scarlett has to hide her bite marks and (awkwardly) flirt her way out of Cazador’s attempts at getting closer to her. There’s a sense of powerlessness to their situation that makes the intimate scenes they get even more special to both of them. I am generally a fan of subtlety, a big proponent of “less is more”, and I couldn’t be happier with how this is conveyed in the simplicity of their clasped hands on the desk.

Finally, the ink and fountain pen. Fountain pens have accidentally become one of my defining characteristics as a writer and I am not at all mad about it. I love heroines who succeed through cleverness and tenacity rather than Strong Female Character syndrome™. When I designed Scarlett, I really wanted someone who would throw Astarion for a loop. Someone he’d have no clue what to do with, someone so different from him and his reality, her every word would cause a flood of error messages in his precious brain. I wanted someone down to earth, someone who would play off him and make all his silly lines sound even sillier - and I wanted someone who’d be able to free him from Cazador through nonconventional and meme-worthy means.

And so I made her an accountant.

I have spoken about this before, but I hail from a family full of accountants. My research for this fic was every single family dinner I have ever attended. I love the ridiculousness of defeating a vampire lord through tax fraud because it plays on the inherent arrogance of Cazador. He is immensely powerful, physically as well as in his social influence, but he, too, can be brought down by a very diligent, very detail-oriented accountant who can demonstrate just how much money he owes the government, thus motivating them to step the fuck up and put him behind bars. It’s the epitome of the (fountain) pen being mightier than the sword. Scarlett is a character who has been underestimated her entire life and she doesn’t really mind it because when the time is right, she knows she can brandish her fountain pen and show everyone what’s what. She has a very quiet, unassuming type of power about herself that I have seen in the many badass accountants in my family and I love how this is reflected in the fountain pen, the ink pot, and of course the infamous ink stains on her fingers. Scarlett does not care about the ink on her fingers – she cares about getting shit done. And I love her for it. And Astarion loves her for it. But he will use every chance he gets to tear her off her work and bend her over the desk because he is also absolutely crazy about her.

This piece is sexy without being graphic. It is beautifully intimate and soft, yet still holds that tension between the two of them with Astarion holding on to her as hard as he possibly can and Scarlett practically melting at his every touch. It shows how a very unassuming, very mundane pencil pusher went and took down the immortal vampire lord with nothing but her mind and her fountain pen (and, well, math magic). The simplicity of it all is what really kicks me in the gut, I think. Because their love is simple at its core. It’s inevitable from the moment they first strike their deal in chapter 4. They don’t have a lot of grand gestures or epic fight scenes (the only fight scene is largely taken care of by The Gang as Astarion is stuck to the floor and Scarlett goes one-on-one versus Laiara). Even their love confessions are quiet and unassuming. They just grow together in a way that has always felt very natural to me and then they hold on and weather it all together until they emerge on the other side, together.

This piece hits right into the core of my story and I couldn’t be happier to see something so beautiful emerge from what I have created. Thank you. I will treasure this forever.

- Cin

#my writing #geeking out over stunning fanart #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #cinnamontails

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