Okay, okay please I love your hc's! Especially about our little (autistic) bioterrorist Wesker! Could you....maybe.... Do some hc's on dating him? Because all I do imagine from your flirting hcs the video on how the confession would happen (IT WAS SO FUCKIN FUNNY FOR NO REASON LMAO) that he's dating someone whose just as straight forward and blunt as he is. Though maybe some contrast on the fact Wesker's dating someone who's very honest. Maybe even TOO honest (fellow autistic LMAO) Like TMI level of honesty?
OKAY SO LIKE, This got like, the teeniest tiniest bit angsty at the end there in the last like two points, that's my bad. I had no control over it, the muses took over my body, there is comfort though!!!
Couple: Wesker x GN, incredibly straight forward Reader
TW: slight hurt/comfort themes, but it's mostly just awkward fluff lmao. Oh, and one passing mention of a praise kink
Okay, so for context we’re talking S.T.A.R.S era Wesker, okay? Okay cool
Wesker is extremely practical in a relationship, he doesn’t really have the time nor the mental capacity to play mind games- not when he’s already playing them with everyone else as his literal job. So when he asks you out, he’s very straightforward about it. Just on a random Wednesday in the S.T.A.R.S break room he hits you with the “I’ve grown quite fond of you. Would you care to join me for dinner?”
You took, like, a troubling amount of time to answer. A solid ten seconds of just you contemplating, or possibly just enjoying the way he squirmed? He was maintaining his cool despite the sweat forming along his hairline. Finally, you respond. “I’m not sure how ethical it is, and I’m very sure it’s against protocol for you to ask your employee out on a date.” He nodded, getting ready to apologize for being so forward, but you continued. “That being said, you’re incredibly attractive. I accept.” He’s not, quite sure how to feel about that, but a win is a win. And you did in fact agree, so this is a win!
Your relationship is honestly really lowkey. To the point that your fellow S.T.A.R.S members are not, totally sure if it’s a joke or not. Chris made a jab about how Wesker gives you so much “special treatment” that you might as well be his partner, and you simply reply “Oh, that’s because I am.” and that sent the entirety of both Alpha and Bravo team into a tizzy. You and Wesker both thought it was funnier to refuse to elaborate any further
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “I’m a S.T.A.R.S member? What’s he going to do about the whole Spencer Mansion situation?” And don’t worry dear reader, I am here to assure you he is also trying to figure out what he’s going to do about you and the Spencer Mansion. He’s not quite sure what he was thinking, getting attached to a member of a team he designed to be disposable. But, he’s here now, he’s dug his grave and now he intends to lie in it. He’s confident he’ll figure out a way to protect you though. (Spoiler alert: Yeah, no.)
Besides that slight snag, your relationship is incredibly uncomplicated. Mostly because when a problem or issue comes up, you’re very quick to bring it up. “Hey, I’m not a fan of your tone right now.” “You said something earlier I didn’t appreciate, can we talk about that?” “I don’t like it when you do that, will you stop?” Easy! Simple! He honestly really appreciates your straightforward nature, and that you’ve never expected him to be a mind reader. He spends so much time trying to read into everyone, and predict their every move and angle, and act accordingly and be what they wanted him to be. It’s a relief to come home and have someone just tell him what they want.
It’s not just criticisms of course. You’re always telling him how handsome he is, how smart he is, how well he handled that situation. You tell him when you like something he does, you thank him when he picks up extra chores, you believe it’s just as important to praise someone as it is to correct them.
Congratulations! You’ve unlocked his praise kink!
Even when you’re maybe a little bit too honest. Be it about medical/body issues, your intrusive thoughts, your past, or even something related to him- He’d rather be overly informed than under informed. He can act accordingly if he has all the information, so please, overshare with him.
I think when the two of you are alone you kinda just spend hours taking turns info dumping to each other. You know the vibe. When you’re talking with someone who matches your freak and it’s just a cycle of “OH! That actually reminds me of/That’s just like-” insert thing that has absolutely nothing to do with the original topic. It’s a beautiful display of love, the traditional neurodivergent courting ritual
Look, I stand by the fact that Wesker is actually a really good cook. He’s not like, a Michelin star chef or anything, but he’s spent a lot of time teaching himself basic life skills after turning 18 (Umbrellas boy’s home was more concerned with book smarts rather than teaching them how to care for themselves) and was determined to figure out how to cook and feed himself well. All of this is context to explain that Wesker learns how to cook some of your favorite meals to show you how capable he is of taking care of you. Again, displaying desirable traits, he’s such a good mate, you made the right call, he is obviously the most optimal choice.
After almost exactly a year and three weeks of dating, your lease was up for renewal. The two of you sat down and very matter-of-factly laid out the logistics of you moving in with him. How the bills would be paid (You both decided the most fair way was to pay a percentage based on income as he did make more than you as Captain) distribution of chores (He’d cook, you’d do the dishes, and you’d both work on general cleaning,) and which drawers in his dresser would be yours (The top two.) It was very much like a business deal, sealed with a handshake. A powerpoint presentation was involved
He’s not against taking you out on the town for date nights, in fact, he quite enjoys it. He’s proud to show you off, who wouldn’t want to go out with such a gorgeous partner on their arm? That being said, his favorite types of dates are the ones where you stay home. The quiet intimacy that comes from just cuddling on the couch is- quite literally- something that he’s never experienced before. He thought he was pretty touch averse, and in a way he is- PDA will never be his thing- but it turns out it’s not that he just hates touch that much. It’s that no one had ever touched him without the intent to hurt him before. And, actually, he’s kinda clingy.
This realization left him in a two day long internal spiral that you definitely picked up on and called him out for, asking him to just tell you what’s wrong. He gave you the softball, highly revised story of his childhood and his…currently evolving relationship with human touch. You were quiet for a moment, before asking if you could hug him. Of course he agreed, and when you pulled away you simply said “I’m sorry. No child deserves to be abused.”
Okay, so, that was the first time anyone ever assigned the A word to his childhood, and while a part of him knew, it’s different to hear it vocalized. He’d always appreciated your honesty, and now’s no different, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him internally spiral for a bit longer. It was okay though. You let him cry in your arms for as long as he needed
Man, that was really heavy. Angsty even. Comfort speed round, GO!
It doesn’t matter how you guys pass out, if you went to bed well before him or if you go to sleep on opposite sides of the bed cause it’s way too hot to cuddle, you always wake up tangled in each others arms
While Wesker tends to be really good at communicating generally, he tends to fall short when it comes to his emotional needs as he tends not to put them in the “Important” category. Thus, much like a cat, whenever he wants your affection he just kinda puts himself in your space and tries to “subtly” get your attention. He does this by straight up putting his head in your lap and waitting for you to run your fingers through his hair. Works every time
On the occasion where he wakes up before you, he gently wakes you up with coffee made to your exact specifications, and sits with you in bed while you both try to fully wake up
The S.T.A.R.S Team still isn’t sure if you’re actually together or not. It’s not until Brad catches you guys going home in the same car that it’s confirmed. You don’t understand why everyone is treating this like a big deal, you literally told them you were in fact his partner
After that though, you did start to let yourself come to work in his hoodies/jackets. It's the rule of romance: Your partner’s hoodie is always far more cozy than yours is. He’s always quick to give you his jacket whenever he even suspects you’re getting cold. Both to keep you comfortable, and because he genuinely love the way his leather looks on you
New Kind of Love - Takemura x Fem!V (Reader) [NSFW]
cw: sexual tension, casual remorse, bad flirting, drunken feelings, confessions, oral, creampie, overstimulation
word count: 4,157
Synopsis: Takemura, a new acquaintance in the absolute shitshow that is V's life, feels more like a constant rather than a variable and V would like to keep him that way.
a/n: This was totally self indulgent on my part, my b.
Alive.
You were alive, despite your best efforts. If it were not the worst 24...48...36 hours, or however many days it'd been since the angry Japanese man scooped you up and dropped you off at Viktor's.
You were in and out for a lot of your time at Vik's. You'd seen him sitting by your bedside and every time you saw him, you wanted to mention Jackie. Of course it went back to Jackie.
Every waking moment you were struggling to think of something to say, moving your hands like they were weighed down by cement.
When you finally woke up enough to feel your spine, you were met by Viktor's hand on your shoulder.
"Easy kid," he said, matter-of-factly. "You been put through the ringer."
You opened your mouth to say something but the only thing that escaped your lips was 'fuck'. You sat back in your chair, the one you'd made your home and now felt aching your back.
"Where's..." You began, squinting around the ripperdoc's dark clinic.
"Takemura?" Viktor responded, sitting back on his stool and dropping his hands to his lap. "He took a break, went to get some coffee. Surprised he even left."
You reached to rub at your temple. "What do you mean?"
"Guy's barely even left your side in the past two weeks," Viktor said with a deep exhale.
"Two weeks?" You stiffened and sat up again, this time gaining a bit more strength.
"Kid, that chip you put in your head 'bout fried your hardware. Really put a damper on you."
At that, you sat forward with a groan. "Do I even wanna know?"
Viktor was silent for a long moment, then wheeled his stool to the foot of your chair. "Either way, it's gonna affect your way of life."
"Great," you lied, hiding your face in your hand to disguise whatever twisted emotion was warring on your brows.
-
You sat up the following morning in your bed after talking to Misty. From where you sat was Takemura, arms crossed on his chest, his legs stretched out before him. He'd followed you home, on the heels of Misty, and casually demanded entrance inside.
You had waved him in as Misty held the bars of your wheelchair. You were sure he wouldn't take no for an answer at this point.
But he was considerate.
Polite and considerate, demanding to a point but stern without raising his voice. He felt like a new constant compared to the squaking relic on your shoulder that was Johnny Silverhand.
At least Takemura took it easy on you. He slowly rustled and woke before stretching his arms before him. "V, good morning. Would you fancy a breakfast at the diner?"
You blinked, nodding though Silverhand was perched on your bed behind you. He was telling you to not trust a fucking thing this Arasaka jerk would say or do.
Takemura slowly stood, shrugging his suit jacket on as you shifted to your feet. You both took a few timid steps towards the door before you caught your reflection in the screen of your computer.
"Sorry, I'll just be a minute," you said, ducking to your bathroom to clean yourself up. "You don't have to wait, I can meet you there."
Takemura hummed, unenthused, taking a seat at your computer desk. "I believe that would be unwise. I will wait until you're done."
You nodded, ignoring his presence to strip and shower. Nothing extravagant, slicking down your wild hair and warming your atrophied muscles.
When you were done, you stepped out and swore under your breath at the lack of towels. You tilted your head to look out of the doorway, hoping that Takemura was occupied with his phone.
"I gotta get to my closet, okay?" You called out, edging closer to the bathroom doorway. "Just...occupy yourself."
A beat of silence before Takemura agrees and you hear your chair squeak in a rotation. You ducked your head out of the doorway, noticed Takemura occupying himself with your computer, and sprinted across your apartment floor to stop before your closet.
The door couldn't open quick enough as your hair dripped down your shoulders and beads rolled down your back, almost accentuating the curve of your body. Basically all the wrong things you wanted to happen before the stranger in your apartment. The polite stranger, whose patience was an undetermined scale, who also had a clean-cut ruggedness to him.
You shook your head, holding your forearm to your chest as you scoured your closet for clothes, pulling on jeans and a tank top before donning your signature jacket.
You wrung your hair out, squeezing whatever damp droplets remained then cleared your throat. "Alright, let's go."
You heard an affirmative grunt behind you, the chair pushing back before your front door pneumatically hissed open.
"Let's not wait."
-
Okay, he was growing on you. Maybe growing was an understatement. Growing was a slow process, one that involved roots and sunlight to nuture like a fresh patch of daffodils. This felt like an infestation, almost obsessive.
He didn't worm into you, he spread over you like old English ivys you saw from old photos. Pressing its way over hardened brick and mortar, snaking over cement like it had purpose.
Takemura felt like the closest person in your life. He was the only person you spent more time with than Judy (and you casually blew that away when you ditched her for Takemura).
But he gave nothing.
He was a translucent window that showed a gate inside. A guarded man with nothing else to lose and so much to gain from his outrageous plot. How he convinced you, you never truly understood.
You believed it was a long con, every time you stared into his opulent gray eyes and agreed by everything he said. You wanted to know everything he was planning and nothing at once because that would leave more for him to say.
When you felt his eyes on you, you tried to remain distant, staring blankly and hoping that this wasn't the sudden moment he'd started to read minds. Because yours was mulling through filth.
"Do you like sushi?" You asked dumbly at one of your many various rendezvous.
"Sushi, yes. But what Night city has is not sushi. It's suicide and somehow disrespectful."
You spared a chuckle to his comment though he hadn't made it to be funny. "Fair enough. What about pizza? I could order us some one night."
"Pizza is good," Takemura commented, keeping his stride towards your destination.
You skipped to catch up, almost childish in your attempt to get him to notice your effort. "Yeah, you can come over one night, we could go over the plan..."
The same plan you'd been over at the diner, on the rooftop, in the bar, on the phone, in the car...
Takemura shrugged. "It would be the same there, yes."
You furrowed your brow and rubbed at the knot between them.
"What're you, 12? I can smell the middle school desperation all over you," Johnny quipped, sitting on a nearby dumpster as you walked past it.
You ignored him with a wave of your hand. You were trying, dammit, wasn't that obvious?
"Maybe we could watch a movie?" You asked, your tone almost hopeful before it was immediately squashed by the thought of movies nowadays.
Porn, every last one of them. Takemura seemed like that kind of man to just...ignore things like that. He felt like the old fashioned that actually used his unsaturated imagination.
Takemura hummed, still keeping stride down the alleyway. You shook your head.
"Bad idea, forget that. But maybe we could, I dunno, take a break."
At that, Takemura paused in his steps.
"Bad choice of words," Johnny whispered over your shoulder. "The arasaka-bot looks like his head might explode."
Slowly, Takemura turned to face you, his steely eyes narrowing at you. "A break?"
You shrugged. "Bad choice of words," you repeated off of Johnny, "Don't blow a fuse. I just mean, let me dine you for once."
Takemura raised his brows in unison, a look of what could be conveyed as shock was intricate on his weathered face. "A free meal, on your bill? I do feel special."
"Alright, then tonight. My place. Just show up when you can."
"Tonight, I will see you there."
"It's a date," you tried, only to earn an unwarranted groan over your shoulder from Johnny.
-
You had barely made your apartment presentable, though Takemura had seen it at its worst. You were too busy holding onto the warmth of your shower to the very last second before blasting your body with cold.
You couldn't chill out to save your life. Resident rockstar horndog SIlverhand especially knew it, taking space on your brain couch next to the festering sexual tension you had towards Takemura.
It was absolutely one-sided, you could tell. By his stoic responses and at-a-distance glares to you. Everything came back down to business with him.
You needed a serious jet-cooling. This was only going to explode the wrong way if you kept down the path you were headed.
Johnny whistled from the bathroom counter. "I know what you're thinking in there, and I'm telling you, don't do it. We share a fucking brain, V."
You withstood the battering cold water a little longer, letting it take away every ounce of warmth from your body before you finally gave up and shut off the shower.
Getting out, you dressed as you normally did, but more on the sweats side than jeans. Takemura would have to understand comfort in ones own home.
The pizza you'd ordered was waiting on the counter, sealed tight to keep the heat in. You were just about to flip open the cardboard box to steal a slice when Takemura cleared his throat from the couch.
You jolted slightly from his presence, too distracted by your self-indulgence to hear him come in.
"I'm sorry, your door was unlocked so I let myself in," he began, standing from the couch with his suit jacket folded over his forearm.
"It's all good," you offered in returned, resting your hand to your chest before turning back to the pizza. "Wanna slice?"
"Sure."
You reached into your kitchen cabinet for two plates then slung open the fridge door to peer in for drinks. "Want a beer?"
You received the same cut answer from Takemura; you reached in and grabbed two beers then the two slices of pizza before nodding for Takemura to sit.
"Here you are, fine sir. Exquisite cuisine, finest of delicacies," you tempted, setting down his food and drink on your crowded coffee table.
"Thank you," he said, returning to his seat as you sat down in the corner of your couch.
You popped open your beer and took a long swig, eyeing Takemura from over the end of the bottle before setting it down.
He was careful in his movements, reaching for the pizza first and taking a steady bite from the tip.
"Takemura..." you began, grabbing your pizza and bringing it to your lips. "Why do you what you do?"
Takemura straightened up at that, chewing methodically at the pizza in his mouth. "I'm not sure what you mean."
You hadn't fully understood your own question either, but now it felt too late to back out. You faltered: "I mean, you're so careful and calculated, but for what? All it's brought you to is Arasaka disgrace."
Takemura's mouth flattened to a straight line and Johnny appeared behind him, on the lip of the sitting area.
"Good start, V. Insult his character. Next, bring up the way he dresses, that'll surely get him hot."
You ignored Silverhand and turned fully to Takemura. "I didn't mean it negatively, I just--"
"I understand what you meant." Takemura's response was metered and tepid. "I simply have no answer for it."
"Oh."
"Or rather, I do not have a simple answer for it. I have grown from a child to this person, following exact steps and paths for my best success. Yet it has still brought me failure."
"Takemura, I-I didn't mean it..."
"My name is Goro," Takemura stated, almost deflating as he finally slouched forward to open his beer.
"Goro. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it as a negative," you tried to reassure him but stone and brick wall made him.
He was an infestation at the same time he was the infested. Goro was riddled with guilt from his master's death and suddenly tasked with restoring his own title from the lowest point.
"I understood what you meant," Takemura, Goro, bit out before taking a long slug of his beer.
You had no words for him, only reaching to pat his shoulder comfortingly. "You're more than just your status. You're a man before anything."
Goro huffed, a pointed amused thing. "Easy for V to say that."
He spoke through you, taking a finger and turning it back to you in the same way you had.
You said nothing, only continued to eat your pizza while casually glancing over at Takemura.
"I did not mean that with venom," he finally said, halfway through his beer, pizza abandoned.
You stood up and went to grab two more beers then returned, handing one to Goro. He nodded his thanks, finished his last swig of his first then opened his second.
You slowly caught up to him, finishing your slice of pizza and gulping your first beer without tasting it. Goro hung the beer between his open legs, swayed it slowly in a pendulum motion.
"I have invested much of my life to my title, and to turn my back on it now feels disrespectful," he whispered.
You nodded solemnly. This was not how you imagined this to go, hoping to not break down the stoic man to questioning his entire beliefs.
"It's more of a growth beyond that," you tried. "You are Arasaka's preem bodyguard, Goro Takemura, who likes pepperoni pizza and cheap beer."
Takemura chuckled, or his best imitation of it, while he stared ahead. He held his beer in his hands for a moment longer, the smile on his lips wearing down.
"This beer is shit," he added with a final swig of his second beer gone.
"I was kidding about the gourmet."
Another chuckle, this time the smile holding longer on his face.
"So you were. I should not be surprised. This is nothing like Arasaka tower."
You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by Takemura talking again.
"Not that I'd want it to be."
He turned his head towards you and relaxed back in the couch. Johnny appeared next to you, picking at his nails in utter boredom.
"Either fuck him or blow my brains out, I'm so fucking bored," he whined.
You ignored Johnny, standing up to take the dirty dishes away. Takemura followed you, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the table and trashing them.
You slipped past him on your way to the sink, dropping the plates in it before spinning around to face Takemura. You gripped at the underside of the counter as he lingered, debating on taking another beer and prolonging his departure.
"I should probably get going," he stated, matter-of-factly, taking a step towards his jacket on the couch.
"Now or never, V," Johnny urged from his place on the couch.
You reached out for his hand and squeezed. "Goro, wait."
He stopped, looked at his hand clasping yours then to you. "What is it, V?"
With a tender nibble at your bottom lip, you tugged him close then crashed your lips to his. You waited for the immediate push, the grapple of your shoulders and the sputtering of disgust, but it never came.
Goro's eyes were slowly lulling to close, the smattering of your lips together opening to welcome his tongue in your mouth. Careful, almost clinical, the way his tongue slid past your teeth and tenderly scoured your mouth.
You hummed, feeling yourself bow into his build. Your hand on his squeezed tight before you released it and weaved your arms around the back of his neck.
Goro's methodical hands rested at your hips, holding you a safe distance away from his waist. But you wanted to meld into him, cross your wires together and create a synapse of the ages.
With a sharp footing, you spun him around and forced him against the kitchen counter, finally causing your lips to part.
The older man caught his breath, his pale lips slick with your spit and plump from the suction. You took grip of his metallic jaw and caressed tenderly, your thumb drawing a line under his bottom lip.
Goro lunged at you, reuniting your lips together while his clumsy staggering led you towards your bed. The back of your feet hit the ledge before you landed on your back across your mattress.
Takemura timbered down with you, landing carefully over your body to not hurt you. His hands on your hips returned, this time roaming carefully in tandem up your tank top before shrugging off your jacket.
You obliged his request, shrugging off your jacket with it pinning your hands in the sleeves.
He wasted no time tearing your shirt open, revealing your breasts which he took in both hands and pawed at aggressively.
Takemura's touch was wildly intoxicating, much more than the beer could ever be. You followed his lead, arching your back into him as his thumbs rubbed over your nipples, perking them with his cold touch.
A moan escaped you, rippling through his mouth and reverberated in his actions. His curious hands drifted downwards, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging them down hard, freeing your pussy to the distinct chill of the room.
You ached so lowly, it was almost unrecognizable. That was until Goro's thumb folded on your clit, slipping two fingers through your pooling wetness and inside.
You whined then, earning a curl of Takemura's lip on yours. At least he was finally enjoying himself.
He flicked recklessly at your sensitive nub, earning a few more errant keens and huffs. Your knees bucked in the confines of your sweatpants, your hands still pinned by your own jacket.
But he was off of you in an instant. You opened your eyes, mind reeling at the past thirty seconds until Takemura snapped his fingers impatiently at you.
"Lose the clothes," he ordered, unbuttoning his dress shirt before swiftly undoing his belt and tearing it out from its loops. "Now."
You followed his order without question, shrugging off the rest of your jacket before kicking off your sweatpants then tossing them both away.
Goro hummed in response to your obedience, his silver eyes mapping your body as you lounged across your bed. He gave up with fully undoing his dress shirt, tugging it over his head by grabbing it over his back then tossing it away.
He dropped his belt and his pants along with it, before kicking off his shoes and climbing across your bed to you.
Goro grabbed at your ankle, sliding you across the bed to him before stopping short. His mouth met the inside of your thigh, earning a trill of nervousness deep within you.
He said nothing, his tandem hands going under your thighs before draping them over his shoulders. Goro flashed a look up your body to you, through you. His eyes no longer resembling a mechanic, but something visceral, primal.
Goro sank to your pussy, enveloping your clit with his tongue and causing you to cry out. You brought your hand to your mouth to silence yourself, lest he stop by too much noise.
He was quiet, making his time down there eventful and succinct. There was no doubt about him being a professional, down to the very careful curling of his fingers when they entered you, matching the timed tapping of his tongue.
You were unfurling, thinking of a way to hold on a bit more before you carelessly unspooled, twitching and moaning out Goro Takemura's name.
Goro removed himself with a single slurp on your clit, earning an involuntary twitch in your knee.
"V, look at me," Goro whispered, now crawling over your body to meet your gaze.
You tried your best, staring up at him in a fogy haze. His eyes pierced through you, surrounded by the dark red that shrouded your bed area.
You reached a hand up to caress Goro's cheek again, this time acknowledging the stubble that lined his jaw. Your thumb found his bottom lip again, staring unwaveringly into Goro.
"I love you," you uttered, something you barely recognized as your own. You'd never thought of that word, never imagined it in your vocabulary if it didn't involve cars or guns.
But here you were, unraveling, defrosting the more you stared into this man's, this stranger's, eyes.
Goro said nothing of acknowledgement, but you saw it in his face. It was there, the dilation of his eyes at the utterance and the steady beat of his heart matching yours.
That was enough. You tilted your head up and pecked his lips, more so to punctuate your words than to fill the long silence.
Takemura allowed you to lead, his methods turning sloppy as he slowly slid inside you.
He was large, larger than imagined for his stature, his demeanor. To be so manicured and obedient, but with such power under the surface. Goro's cock paved its own way, making you feel the perfect fit to the end of him.
Your legs curled around his waist, wiggling your hips once to urge his movements. Goro opened his mouth before yours, panting into you as he started a slow pace.
You breathed him in, the beer stained in his breath, your nose brushing against his the more he pumped inside of you.
"Fuck," you whispered into him, your hands curling around his shoulders and meeting his thrusts halfway.
Goro panted, smirked dimly and nodded at once. Your hand drifted down his back, feeling at the slickness that built along his back before holding at his small and following his thrusts.
You tilted your head back, allowing Goro to pepper your neck with haphazard bites, nibbles, ones that would show who was now yours.
Your breathing heightened, hitched the more Goro became reckless, careless, his hips stuttering with a pace and finally fucking so tirelessly into you that you careened into another orgasm.
"Goro!" You called out, your hand on the small of his back holding him there a second longer, attempting to still his efforts for you to ride out your high.
But he didn't stop, and was chasing a harder, sloppier high that was met with rabbit thrusts of an uncommon speed. Your hand turned to nails as you gripped him close, shaking and sputtering to speak, your throat burning raw at the overstimulation.
Your toes curled as your heel caressed Goro's ass, almost wanting to kick him off but riding him out though the energy was leaving you.
His breathing shallowed, returning over you, with his chest hitting yours with inhale.
"V, you truly love me?" He asked, on the verge of something explosive.
His eyes were wild now, his manicured hair in spindly tresses framing his face.
You nodded, your back arching into him again. "I do, Goro. I really do."
A rumble erupted from Goro's chest, another instance of a primal nature revealed within him. He held onto your hips as he stuttered his final thrusts before planting himself fully inside you, gushing ropes of cum with each deep breath he took to come down.
You held your knees tight behind Takemura's back, coming down from your high as he did the same. You felt each shot of him the more you catch your breath.
Slowly, Takemura pulled out of you, leaving a decorative ring of his cum and yours at the base of his cock.
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in silence as you turned your head to him. Now you wished you could read minds.
Goro folded a hand to his chest, acknowledging his heartbeat before reaching over to slide it under your cheek.
He pulled you in carefully, his grey eyes lulling for sleep. You rested a hand to his chest, pulled yourself closer still.
His nose touched yours, sliding over it before planting a kiss on your cheek.
"I love you as well, V."
You gulped, staring into his eyes, holding the moment for as long as you could.
Tomorrow, Goro would wake up and shower, clean up the apartment and return to bed for a while.
He'd wake up with a new sense of existentialism, wondering if it was still too late to return to Japan.
He'd wake up, craving a breakfast at the diner across the street.
But you would cross your arm over his waist and he'd wait.
I haven't written anything for Stardew Valley in a while so this was kinda fun once I got into the swing of it.
I hope you guys enjoy!! (wc: 1550)
It was another day of work for Shane. Another day of stocking shelves at JojaMart. It was a soul-killing job but it helped pay rent. He couldn’t really complain about that. As he left Marnie’s ranch that morning, he spotted the new farmer by the river with a fishing pole in hand.
You heard footsteps on the cobble path behind you. Turning, you saw Shane presumably on his way to work. The two of you caught eyes for a moment. You smile and wave to him, watching as he frowns at you and continues walking. Your shoulders slump and you turn back to the task at hand. Fishing.
As Shane approached the building that was JojaMart, he noticed gray clouds rolling in. Grumbling, he stepped inside before it began to rain. It was just a drizzle, but it was enough to certainly be an annoyance on his way home that evening.
It felt like hours upon hours stocking the shelves of the store. And once the clock hit 5pm and his shift was over for the day, Shane stretched his back and planned on heading to the Stardrop Saloon for a drink or two.
Leaving the building, he was irritated to find that the rain from that morning had only gotten worse. Going from a drizzle to an outright downpour. Cursing quietly to himself, he began his walk through the abysmal weather towards the warmth and shelter of the saloon.
After a few drinks and a stern look from Gus, Shane decided it was probably time to head back to Marnie’s and sleep off his buzz so that he could work the next day. Leaving the saloon, he found the rain to be as bad as it was earlier, if not worse. With a sigh, he trekked through the cold towards home.
As he walked past the river, a figure caught his eye once more.
You were still there, fishing pole in hand as the bobber floated in the rippling water.
He couldn’t help the thought. Had you been there all day? Why the hell were you still out in this weather? And so late at night too. He shook his head and continued on his path back to the ranch.
“Damnit!” You grumble, perhaps louder than intended, as the fish at the end of your line escaped you. With a sigh, you reel in the hook and reach into your bag to grab more bait.
Your exclamation caught Shane’s attention as he walked by, stopping once more despite the rain and looking in your direction. It was hard to see your expression, the light of the streetlamp only reaching so far. The weather certainly wasn’t helping either. Though he could only assume it was a look of frustration.
The thought of you standing there all day crossed his mind once more. Alone by the river out in the rain for Yoba only knows how long. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his mind was suddenly swarmed by thoughts of you. Every time you tried to speak with him, only to have him brush you off. Every time you gave him a gift for seemingly no reason, a smile on your face. A pang of… guilt struck his heart. And he felt the need to… check on you? Apologize for being an ass when you were only trying to be nice? Either way, he found himself approaching you.
You were surprised when someone cleared their throat beside you, nearly dropping your pole. You were even more surprised to see who it was. His expression still sour, yet it seemed to soften at your startled squeak. The two of you stared at each other for a second before you spoke. “Hey, Shane,” you started. “What brings you here?” The confusion was evident in your voice.
Shane opened his mouth and shut it again, trying to find the right words. “What are you doing out here?” He asked. He winced inwardly at his harsh tone.
You look at him and back to the tool in your hands. “Um… fishing?” You say with a sheepish smile.
“In this weather?” He asks.
You shrug before feeling a tug on the line, your attention brought back to the river. Quickly, you attempt to reel in the fish that took the bait only to curse once more as it escaped once again. You hang your head and sigh heavily.
Shane watched your shoulders drop and even through the haze leftover from his drinks he could see the exhaustion beginning to weigh on you. “How long have you been out here?” He asked.
You shrug again as you reel in your line and reach for more bait.
Without thinking, Shane reaches for your hand. Grabbing your wrist before you could open your bag. “It’s fucking freezing out, you should go home.” He says. Perhaps it was the chill of the night or the stinging of the cold rain that was causing him to sober up. Or perhaps it was the growing concern for this kind farmer who he suspected had indeed been out here all day.
You roll your eyes. “It’s fine, Shane,” you laugh. “Catfish only show up when it’s raining, so I have to stay out here if I want to catch one.” You try to tug your wrist from his grasp only for him to hold on tighter.
“The only thing you’re going to catch out here is a cold,” he frowned.
Your eyes widen before you begin to frown as well. “I’ll be fine,” you say.
“Bullshit,” he replies. “You’re going to end up sick if you stay out here. The weather is only going to get worse.” As he spoke, the distant sound of thunder rolled across the night sky. He gives you a look that clearly read ‘I told you so’.
You sigh. “I promise, I’ll go home as soon as I catch this fish. It’s important,” you mumble. You think back to the community center and the strange creatures that need your help. You had to catch this catfish for them, you had to repair the community center otherwise it would be torn down. And you knew in your heart that you couldn’t let that happen.
Shane scoffed. “Important how?” His question was dry. He clearly didn’t believe you.
You look away from him. “You wouldn’t understand,” you murmur. How on earth would you explain that magical sprites need your help and that catching a catfish would repair the community center. Even while drunk you were sure he would think you’re crazy… if he didn’t already.
Shane didn’t say anything, he only shook his head. He hadn’t let go of your wrist, your skin felt like ice. “It’ll rain again,” he grumbled. “Just go home… please…” His voice barely above a whisper.
You were about to argue again when a sneeze overtook you. That seemed to be the final straw for the man as he bent down, using his free hand to grab your bag before tugging you away from the river and towards Marnie’s ranch. You tried to fight his grip, but waves of exhaustion were hitting you like bricks. “Where are we going?” You finally ask.
“Marnie’s,” he replies. “You need to get out of the cold.”
“Where-”
“You can sleep in my room, I don’t need you passing out trying to get back to your farm,” he says, cutting you off. Shane wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but the very thought of you not making it home… the thought of you hurt out in the rain… it made his heart ache.
“But what about you-?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he cut you off again.
You could feel your vision growing blurry, and the thought of a warm bed was so appealing. Even if it wasn’t your own.
Twisting your wrist in his grip, you manage to wriggle it free enough to grasp his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. “Thank you, Shane…” you whisper, barely audible above the pouring rain.
Shane could feel his cheeks flush at your words. He blamed the alcohol still in his system. However, the thought did cross his mind of how natural it felt holding your hand. He felt the warmth on his face grow. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbled as Marnie’s ranch came into view.
Everything was a blur after that. You were given a towel and some dry clothes, your eyes heavy as you changed in the bathroom before making your way to the kitchen where Shane was waiting for you. By the time he guided you to the bed and your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.
Shane watched you for a moment, the peaceful state you were in was comforting in a strange way. He shook his head, planning on taking some painkillers for his inevitable headache in the morning and crashing on the small couch in the corner of his room. With one last look at your sleeping form, he left the room to go grab those painkillers.
As he readied himself for sleep, his thoughts were filled with you once again and his heart felt… warm. He’d apologize for being rude to you in the morning. And hopefully, this would be the start of making up for it.
Description: With the warmth of the afterglow fading, Tav manages to coax Astarion into a bath, to show him all the ways she loves him and to hold him close until the water grows cold.
Warnings: Suggestive content, implied sex, mentions of blood, mentions of other bodily fluids
Notes: Hello!!! This is my very first attempt at writing Astarion. Saw him once, fell in love, went insane, now i'm writing fic about him and I cannot stop. I want to just squish his cheeks and tell him how lovely he is. This is set post-everything that happens in game, and he's unascended
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Heavy curtains drawn across the windows stifled any hope of light sneaking in between the threads. It did not even bleed through the leaden fabric, staining the room in a strange glow the way wispy, gossamer curtains often did. But she did not need the curtains drawn to know that night had descended. The hazy burn of dusk across the sky had long since faded, a chill hanging in the air that bit at her bare skin that could only belong to the fathomless night.
Pulling blankets tighter around herself did little to stave off the sting of the air, siphoning away the last of the heat from her skin. And nestling closer to the body beside her was not the improvement she’d been looking for, the press of her skin against his bringing discomfort from everything that had spilled onto her skin into stark awareness.
There was blood; her blood, dried and caked on the inside of her thighs and her throat from where she’d let his fangs sink into her flesh. There was sweat of course, still drying on her skin, making her feel itchy, like a second, ill-fitting skin had been plastered across her. And she could feel where his release leaked out of her, where it had been smeared on the inside of her thighs, where it was congealing on the sheets beneath her.
So not only was she cold, but she felt very gross. And very much in need of a bath.
But she was wrapped up in her lover’s arms, and he seemed intent on holding her close, his soft breaths ghosting across her collarbone.
“Astarion,” she whispered, running a hand through his hair. It was softer than silk, and still cool to the touch despite how she had run her fingers through it, twisted them into his curls at every chance she got. He sighed against her, his lashes fluttering as he shifted.
“Astarion.” She slid her hand down to the nape of his neck, playing with the wispy baby hairs that curled there. “I know you’re awake.”
“So what if I am?” His response was muffled, rumbling through her bones from where he pressed his face against her bare chest.
She traced her finger over the curve of his ear, biting the inside of her cheek as he shivered. “I want to take a bath.”
His only response was a groan, clutching her tighter.
“I feel sticky.”
“I’m far too comfortable to move, love.”
She huffed, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m covered in dried blood! And other things.”
Now he did lift his head, his crimson eyes bright in the shadows of the room. She caught the glimmer of his teeth as he smiled, his canines looking especially deadly in the dark. “You could know I could help if there’s something you’d like inside of you.”
A few hours ago his words might have made her blush, might have made her flustered enough to try and look away before he inevitably caught her to tease her some more. But his voice was heavy with sleep, his words more of a quiet murmur than anything seductive. It just sounded a little silly, and she snorted, a smile spreading across her lips.
“You could help by letting me go and letting me bathe.”
Now he was the one huffing, shifting until they were eye-to-eye, his arms never leaving her sides. “And why would I want to do that when I’m so comfortable right here?”
“Because you love me?” She cupped his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks just the tiniest bit. He was always giving her odd looks when she did it, squishing his face or showering his head in kisses or hugging him as tight as she dared. But even if one brow was arched in question, he always smiled softly, his eyes warm with contentment. As if perhaps he liked the sudden onslaught of affection, even if it seemed a little strange.
He chuckled, idly stroking her side. “I do love you. More than anything.”
She leaned closer, until their noses practically bumped together. “So you’ll come bathe with me?”
His brows rose, one arm releasing her as he trailed his hand up her arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”
She didn’t bother to respond with words this time, simply whining, putting on her best pout and hoping it would be enough to sway him.
A snort. “Nice try, darling. But I like having you here in my arms.”
Not nice enough, clearly. She whined again, louder this time, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Please, my love?” She went so far as to whimper, peeking up at him through her lashes, fingers still toying with his hair. “Please? You could come with me and then it would be so much nicer.”
He hummed, smirking as she wiggled closer, ignoring the stickiness between her thighs and the dull ache radiating through her nerves.
“Please?”
His eyes closed, and she knew she had won before he even started to sigh. But he did sigh, long and dramatic and very drawn out.
“Fine,” he finally conceded, fixing a glare on her that was entirely undercut by the smile still playing at his lips. “If you must. But you had better make sure to use those new oils I bought us. I don’t want to be smelling like cheap bar soap you found at a farmer’s market.”
“That’s not fair! It had smelled so pretty when I’d bought it.” She frowned, ducking her head. “I don’t know what happened that made it so plain.”
He tucked her hair back behind her ear, slowly dragging his knuckles down the side of her neck, his eyes softening. “It was probably enchanted to smell that way until it had been purchased. Or perhaps they simply tricked you and only the display one was perfumed.” He smirked. “Which is why you need me to help select the best perfumes and soaps.”
Rolling her eyes, she nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What would I do without you, my love?”
“You would be lost.”
“And I’d smell bad.” She smiled as he laughed, warmth blooming like a new flower in the spring.
“Thank goodness you do have me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And you’ll have me forever.”
If not for the chill in the air and the discomfort clinging to her skin, she probably could have stayed there for an eternity. He’d teased her mercilessly for how much she’d loved to curl up in his arms, but he’d always seemed just as keen to cuddle with her, his arms fitting perfectly around her, his breath tangling in her hair or tickling her neck, his hands stroking her sides or her back.
But she was cold, and she was uncomfortable, and as perfect as his arms and his body were, she felt desperate enough to peel her skin off if she did not bathe soon.
It was with a pathetic whine that she coaxed him from the bed, hands clasping his as she dragged him from the bedroom. He grumbled wordlessly, even as he let himself get tugged into the bathroom, eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness.
She could hardly see in the dark, and it was only with Astarion’s help that she was able to light the candles that lined the counter in the bathroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow.
It was an effort to keep her eyes averted, to pretend like she didn’t think he looked beautiful, the edges of his body blurred by the candlelight, his face softened by the golden glow. He looked a little like his namesake, like a star given form, blessing her with his light.
Although if she told him that she would certainly never hear the end of it. Even now she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she filled the tub, tracking the steam as it curled towards the ceiling and melted out of sight.
“My love.” She felt his hand at her hip, soft as a whisper. She knew this game, knew he wanted her to turn around, to focus her attention on him. She could hear it in the lilt of his voice, the laughter she could hear in it though neither of them had made a joke. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“What do you mean?” She was careful to avoid meeting his gaze, gently brushing her hand over his. “I’m getting the bath ready. Alone, might I add.”
“Well, I’m here for moral support. And you’re doing such a good job I’d hate to get in your way.”
Against her better judgement she turned to glare at him over her shoulder. It earned her a bout of warm laughter that seeped into her veins like sun-warmed honey, heat blossoming in her belly. It was immediately followed by his hands taking her face, his lips stretching into a wide smile, the knife-sharp points of his canines glinting in the candlelight.
“That’s better.” He tipped his head to the side, his eyes softening. “I was worried you had grown tired of looking at me.”
She covered his hands with hers. “I’ll never grow tired of you for as long as I live.”
Lines appeared on his forehead as his brows drew together. So she stood on her toes, gently pressing her lips to each line until they were smoothed away and she could feel his smile against her skin. His hands slid away from her face, but she kept her fingers tangled with his, not wanting to let go just yet.
“My love…” He trailed off, humming as he lowered his head, the coolness of his teeth scraping over her skin making her shiver. “Wasn’t there something else you were doing?”
“You distracted me.” His answering laughter tickled her neck as he hovered above the marks leftover from where he had bitten her.
“You were preparing a bath, I believe?”
She took hold of his face this time as she rocked back on her heels, pulling his head back just enough to meet his eyes, to see the mischief shining in them. “You know, I think this is the exact opposite of getting in my way.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He was awfully good at feigning innocence; his eyes were wide and sorrowful, a small pout pulling at his lips. Had she not known him she would have fallen for it entirely, believing him utterly innocent of any wrong-doing.
But she did know him, and she knew exactly how not innocent he could be.
She clicked her tongue. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll just bathe on my own.”
She spun around quickly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as he began to whine, trying to get her attention all over again.”
“My love.”
She went searching for his precious oils, finding them lined up in the corner of the small cabinet above the counter. They seemed to shimmer as she held them up to the light, as she uncorked them to smell them each and make sure she was grabbing the right ones. He was so particular about such things and she wanted to make sure she got it right.
“My darling.” His voice pitched up, cracking a bit as she began adding the oils to the bath. “I thought you wanted me to come with you!”
Much as she wanted to pretend she had a strong resolve, it crumbled to dust with just the slightest of provocation from him. How she was supposed to ignore his desperate whining, even when she knew it was a trap, was beyond her. So when he reached for her hand, drawing her closer, she didn’t resist, instead letting herself be gathered against his chest, his smug smirk illuminated in the glow of the candles.
“Well? Do you truly still plan to leave me and bathe all on your own?” One of his hands slipped down her side, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his featherlight touch. “I could be of help, you know. I’ve become quite intimate with your body, I’m sure I could help in some way.”
She frowned. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”
His answering laughter was bright, like summertime sunshine was bathing them in its golden light. It made her smile, giggles bubbling up in her throat as he laughed, pale cheeks flushing with just a hint of colour, the same pink that promised the coming dawn and the warmth that would follow.
His expression was soft again as his laughter passed, as he waited for her own bout of giggles to melt away, that soft colour still clinging to his skin. It took her a moment to identify the look in his eyes, the gentleness with which he held her gaze, with how he rested his hands at her sides. And when the realization hit her, she felt like her breath was stolen away, yanked from her lungs with a gasp.
He looked happy. He looked so genuinely happy that her eyes began to burn, her heart aching from how it pressed against the cage of her ribs.
Lines appeared on his brow once more, the corners of his lips turning down. “What’s wrong? My darling, why are you crying?”
She shook her head, wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m not.”
“Just because I can’t go out into the sun doesn’t mean I’m blind, you know.” He huffed, mouth curling into a half-smile, something like sadness hanging at the edges. “Have I done something wrong?”
She sniffed, shaking her head furiously. “No! No, not at all. I just have something caught in my eye, that’s all.”
Nothing in his expression said he believed her, but he didn’t push the issue. “Well then, should we get in before the water gets cold?” He leaned close, his voice dipping to a sultry tenor. “Or is there something else you would rather do?”
She didn’t even have to respond before he was laughing again, grinning broadly as he drew back. “My darling, you make this far too easy. Your face is all flushed and I’ve hardly done a thing.”
He’d actually done quite a lot of things today, but her tongue was suddenly too heavy to properly articulate anything sharp and witty she could say in response. And she didn’t have anything sharp and witty to say in response either, a pleasant fog settling over her mind as fatigue tugged at her.
Instead she just climbed into the tub, sinking as far beneath the water as she could, only her nose and eyes still above water as he followed behind, still looking far too pleased with himself.
He reached for the little shelf of bottles that lined the wall next to the tub, the soft light of the flickering candles casting a golden glow around the room. If she hadn’t known him she would have thought he was an angel with how the light gilded his features, twined with the strands of his hair and made it glow. Even that infuriating, devilish smile looked soft in the light, still clinging to his lips as he tilted one of the bottles up to the light.
Her eyes were burning again, her chest aching, too small for her heart, for all of the emotion tearing it apart at the seams. Had there ever been such a beautiful smile? Had there ever been such a precious person ever before?
No, she was certain that there had not been.
He was watching her, and she realized it with a start, her breath catching as she met his eyes.
“What’s the matter, pet? You look like you’ve had a spell cast over you.”
She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood, although the fuzzy feeling around her mind and the warmth in her chest did not dissipate against the sharp pain. She had drunk no wine and yet she felt a little drunk all the same, a little like she was hovering just beyond her body, her edges blurry, everything warm.
He moved closer, taking her hand. “What’s on your mind?”
She opened her mouth, closed it again, like a fish gasping for breath on dry land. She really could not say, not unless she wanted to be teased mercilessly, caught gawking at him like a child with a crush.
“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, reminding her of a predator.
Her voice would not come to her, and so she decided that she would express how she felt in a different way, her heart wishing terribly to be able to keep his heart warm, to keep that smile bright on his lips, to keep his eyes soft but never sorrowful again.
“What are you doing?” He blinked at her as she plucked the small bottle of shampoo from his hand, the sensual countenance falling away.
“Let me help you clean up,” she said, rolling the bottle between her palms. “I can wash your hair for you.”
He continued to blink, his brow creasing. Her heart constricted, fear sluicing through her veins, making her fear she had overstepped, that this was something unwanted. She’d already coaxed him from sleep, perhaps she was pushing against his boundaries.
“Only if you want to,” she amended. “If you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”
When he tipped his head to the side it was less predatory this time, reminding her more of the curious head tilt small animals often did when you were speaking to them with a cadence they liked. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, darling?”
She muttered under her breath about how much of a menace he was, even as she squeezed out the shampoo into her palm. He was smirking, watching her intently.
“You have to turn around,” she instructed, earning nothing but a rebellious smirk.
“Now why would I do that when it means I can’t see your adorable face?” He twirled a hand in the air, gesturing to her face. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the pretty flush on your cheeks.”
She tried spinning him around, water sloshing over the lip of the tub. “Turn around! How else am I supposed to wash your hair?!”
“Just like this, darling.” He cupped her face, water sluicing down his arms, falling back into the tub with a quiet plinking.
“I feel like you’re trying to embarrass me.”
He clicked his tongue. “I would never dare.”
“I think you would dare.” She couldn’t bring herself to push his arms away, deciding she would have to yield. “I think you would just to see me squirm.”
“Well…” Unable to come up with an appropriate excuse, he merely shrugged. “I like that colour on your cheeks.”
“I didn’t realize you were an artist,” she deadpanned, lathering the shampoo between her palms. “And that you had such a nuanced appreciation of colours.”
“Only when it comes to you, love.”
She sighed, no clever rejoinder coming to mind. She liked getting the last word in, but Astarion so rarely gave her such an opportunity. He always had something else to say, something sharp and clever if not something that would make her blush so fiercely she thought she would burst into flame.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to lower your head for me.”
He had no smart comment for that, instead quietly acquiescing, ducking his head enough so that she could run her fingers through his hair, dragging the shampoo through the silken strands.
She hummed, smiling as the gentle, moonlit ivory waves were smushed beneath the shampoo. She might have gathered it all up into a point, making him look a little silly while he trusted her to wash his hair. But he was always trying to make himself look perfect, and she didn’t mind when he looked less than perfect, when he looked silly or disheveled. He didn’t have to pretend with her, and she didn’t want him to.
“You’re doing something ridiculous to my hair, aren’t you?” He seemed to read her thoughts, peeking up at her from beneath his ivory lashes.
“Nooo.” She shook her head, massaging his scalp. “I would never dare.”
“So you are.”
She huffed, pouting as she ran her fingers down the back of his scalp, pressing gently against the back of his neck, making sure to catch the soft baby hairs that curled there.
“I trust it won’t look like that forever?” The corners of his lips quirked up, his voice dipping to a dangerous octave. “Right?”
She didn’t respond, fixing her gaze elsewhere, trying to ignore the way his eyes bored into her skin.
Another click of his tongue. She nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt his hand on her face, the pad of his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Why are you pouting? I thought this is what you wanted.”
“And I thought you were too tired to tease me like this.”
He tapped his thumb against her lip in time with her heartbeat. “I never said that.”
“I kind of assumed.”
“My love, I’m never too tired to tease you.” His hand fell back into the water with a quiet splash. “But please continue.”
“I’m just about done with your hair,” she admitted, dunking her hands into the water. “You’ll have to lean forward more or tilt your head back so I can rinse it.”
He straightened, shifting awkwardly so he could tip his head back, the sharp points of his ears grazing the surface of the water, sending out little ripples.
She scooted to the side, careful to keep the water from spilling into his eyes as she began scooping it up and pouring handfuls of water into his hair. “You know this would have been easier if you’d just turned around.”
He splashed her, rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons.”
“Would you care to divulge them?” She splashed him right back, not bothering to show the same care this time as water and suds sluiced over his face.
He sputtered, wiping his eyes. “Well not anymore, you wicked thing.”
“I think I’m quite nice.”
He flicked water at her as he sat up. “You’re not being particularly nice right now.”
She splashed him again, harder this time. Water rolled over the lip of the tub like ocean waves, puddling across the floor. “I am SO nice! I’m the nicest! I let you pick out the shampoos and soaps we use! I let you pick out the curtains! I let you be the little spoon!”
The more reasons she was, theoretically, “nice,” the more she laughed. Small giggles at first, bubbling into a laughter that gripped her lungs, shook her body until she was snorting with every breath. Her hands trembled as she tried to cover her face in a vain effort to staunch the flow, but it was of no avail. She felt like a fool, she felt dizzy, almost drunk although she’d had no alcohol.
Astarion snorted alongside her, eyes crinkling in bemusement. “I can let you be the little spoon if you want, my love. I had no idea you were sacrificing so much for my comfort.” Another snort, another flick of the water, sending her into another fit of hysterics. His lips stretched wide, a crescent moon smile that made her heart glow. “I didn’t realize falling asleep in my arms was something of such importance. Although I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Backing up until her back hit the edge of the tub, she covered her face, shoulder shuddering with laughter. “It’s not even that funny, I don’t know why I’m laughing.”
“I’m not sure either.” He moved closer, just enough to find her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. “But I like the sound.”
“I was snorting!”
“But they were such cute snorts.” He was tracing the lines of her palm now, watching her with such warmth in his eyes she thought she would melt into the water and turn to suds and foam.
“You can’t possibly mean that.”
His bottom lip popped out; an adorable, impossible to resist pout that could make her to cave to almost anything he asked. To stay in bed for a little while longer, to buy him that pretty shirt they’d seen at a night market, to wear the glittering circlet he had mysteriously procured because it matched one that he owned.
“Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were wide as a doe’s, his voice soft as feather down. She was lost to him already, to that sorrowful, beseeching look. Lost to that quiet, almost whiny tone.
She knew she was being played, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
It was with gritted teeth that she managed a quiet. “I trust you.”
His expression morphed almost immediately, his eyes bright once more, his teeth bared from the brightness of his smile. “Marvelous! I’m glad we’re in agreement that you’re adorable.”
“You’re awful.”
He kissed the back of her hand, his laughter rumbling into her bones. “And I’m all yours, my darling.”
Gentle warmth spread from her heart, beating steadily, spurred on by the sudden sweetness of his words. Her arms grew warm next, her belly, her fingertips, everything tingling as if she were caught in a warm haze. He was all hers, he was hers to love and care for and cherish. To hold close when they slept, to share the quiet moments with, to share the loud moments with too. Of course. There would always be loud moments with him, the unexpected always rearing its head as they searched for a cure for him, a way for him to stand free in the sunlight.
“You are,” she agreed. He was hers, and he had given his heart to her willingly. It had been his choice, and she would make sure to treasure it, to treasure him, for as long as she drew breath. And as long as her heart beat, it beat for him. “And I’m yours.”
A strange look came upon his face then, something between sadness and elation, something she could not name. It was gone far too quickly for her to dissect it, his lips brushing against her hand once more before he drew away, a smile plastered on his face once more.
“You most certainly are, my darling.” He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting it go, twirling a hand through the air as he gestured to his hair. “Now about whatever you’ve done here.”
“Will you turn around now?” Whatever had snagged her attention briefly flitted away. Suds were streaking down the sides of his face, his hair half matted, pure ivory with the shampoo still caked into his scalp.
It was only with a long, petulant sigh that he turned around, laying back so his head was nearly in her lap so she could finish rinsing his hair.
“Now was that so hard?” She teased, supporting his head with one hand while she used the other to pour palmfuls of water onto his hair.
“It was torturous. I couldn’t see you for a whole minute.”
“Oh please.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the rest of the shampoo. “You’re such a baby.”
His brow furrowed. “I am not! I’ll have you know I’m over two hundred years old-”
She sighed, rolling her eyes as she cut him off. “Yes yes, you’re an over two hundred year old vampire, you’re terrifying and powerful and someone to be feared. But you’re still a baby.”
His eyes narrowed, his mouth opening as if to retort.
“And you’re my baby,” she finished, cutting him off once again.
She swore colour flared in his cheeks, at the tips of his ears. He looked away quickly, whatever sharp comment he’d been about to make dying before it made it to his lips. “I suppose it’s acceptable when you say it like that.”
Curling forward she brushed her lips to his brow, listening as he sighed.
He started to lift his head as she drew away, chasing after her in search of another kiss, but she gently coaxed him back down, cradling the back of his head once more. “Just relax, love.”
At first he did not relax, his eyes flickering to her face and along the shadowed ceiling of the room. But after a while she felt as he settled himself more comfortably against her. His upper back was cushioned atop her legs, his head cradled in her palm, just above her thighs, his legs drawn up so his knees cut through the water like mountains on the other side of an ocean.
“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable, okay?” She ran her hand around the sides of his ears, making sure she caught the last of the suds, making sure to rinse his hair fully so that when it dried it would be fluffy and soft just as it always was. She combed her fingers across his scalp, massaging gently, smiling as he gave a quiet hum of assent. The lines in his brow were smoothed away, his face softened in the light. He looked peaceful, serene as she rinsed the last of the shampoo away.
She could have told him to move then, that she was done and he had to sit up, but she found she did not want to, could not bring herself to be pried from this position. His weight against her was a comfort, the tranquil look on his face a balm to her heart, his even breaths lulling her into her own state of peace.
He looked calm, he looked happy, and she was loath to end the moment, for that gentle stillness to melt into the suds and bathwater.
So instead she reached for his preferred soaps, lathering it between her palms and running her hands over his shoulders, massaging the soap into his skin.
He shifted, a brow arching. “What are you doing now, my love?”
“Cleaning you up,” she said, pausing as worry flitted through her mind. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”
His eyes opened, and where she had expected accusation she saw only the softness that accompanied a flower just beginning to bloom, petals not yet the brilliant crimson of blood. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s nice.” He sighed, eyes falling closed once more. “And I trust you.”
She was thankful to be sitting, because she was certain her legs would have given out on her from hearing such words from his lips.
She carried on, moving her hands over his arms and hands, sliding them back up to wash his chest, his torso. Eventually she did have to ask him to sit up, water sluicing down his back as she fetched a cloth to wash his back, careful to ensure her touch was light as she ran it over the lines of his scar. Her stomach still roiled when she saw it, remembering the sharp pain in his voice when he’d told her of its history, and when she remembered the scarlet light that he had been bathed in, that had set the scar aglow.
She bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood, forcing herself back into the present. That was behind them, it was behind him, and he would never have to fear his old vampire master agait. There was no more ritual, no more control, no more sacrifice. The scars would never glow again, they would never be anything more than scars. Fading reminders of a shadowed life and misery she would do everything she could to make sure he never felt ever again.
Suds spilled down his back, and she brought cupped hands of water to the nape of his neck, letting the water spill down his back as she began wiping up the suds. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable at all, okay?” She scooped up more water and watched as it spilled down his back, washing away the last of the suds.
He gave a quiet hum of assent, seeming content to let her do as she wished for the moment. He was turned away from her, but she imagined the peaceful expression that must have been on his face. The dreamy smile, the pale pink of his cheeks, the same expression he often had when he first awoke, serene and blissful like he were caught in a beautiful dream.”
“I love you.” She murmured the words as she brought her lips to the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”
The quietness of the moment should have concerned her, but she’d written it off as him still being sleepy as she continued. She alternated between washing him up and scattering stray kisses along his skin. His shoulders, his sides, his arms. She made sure to catch all the little crooks of his body, fingers tangling together with his for half a heartbeat as she trailed soap and suds over his arms again before she rinsed him off.
“Alright.” She’d only just dunked the cloth back into the sudsy water, eying the lineup of pretty, colourful bottles along the shelf next to the tub, trying to figure out which ones were his favourites. They were unlabelled, but she knew what scents he liked best. “Don’t tell me which one is your favourite, okay? I think I know.”
She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she reached for the closest one, the one she was pretty sure smelled of bergamot. It was only then, as her fingers closed around the little bottle, did she notice the slight tremble of his shoulders, the soft sniffling sound that was quickly drowned out by the splash of water.
She drew back at once, the bottle slipping from her fingers and plunging into the water. For such a dramatic moment, as her breath caught in her lungs, she would have thought it would have made a louder sound as it crashed from her hand. But no, the bottle made little more than a quiet plink as it slipped beneath the surface of the water, the silence hanging in the air heavy, deafening in comparison.
“Astarion?” Her heart constricted, her lungs shuddering as they tried and failed to draw in breath. She hesitated before settling her hands on his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. “My love? Is something the matter?”
A beat. It was little more than half a moment but it could have been a century for how the time stretched between her question and his response.
“Nothing, darling.” His voice was much softer than usual, so soft she would have missed the tremor in it had she not been so close, had she not felt as it vibrated through him, resonating between them in the place where she had laid her palms.
“It’s not nothing.” She wanted to see his face, wanted to see what he was hiding. But when she leaned forward he turned his head away, nothing but his damp curls filling her sight.
“Astarion.” She settled one hand on his arm, the other brushing his hair back from his ear. “My love, why won’t you look at me?”
He cleared his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his face. “It’s nothing. I think there’s some soap in my eye.”
“Let me see,” she insisted, reaching for his face. She cupped the cheek furthest from her, gently drawing his face towards her. “If there’s soap in your eye let me help get it out.”
He did not put up any resistance, although when he finally faced her fully he did not meet her eyes. Instead he just stared down into the water, his hands awkwardly clenched together in his lap. Red rimmed his eyes, his cheeks a splotchy red that spoke of tears, not the gentle flush of contentment or love. His face was wet, although that was most certainly from the bath as much as it was from his quiet tears.
Her hand slipped from his cheek along the curve of his neck, pausing only to rest on his chest, feeling its steady rise and fall as he took slow, measured breaths. “Oh my love, why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
His hand covered hers, an empty smile shuddering at the edges of his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. I just got something stuck in my eye, probably from being distracted by your hands.” His voice dropped an octave, was sweet as syrup, warm as the buzz of alcohol when she’d drank too much wine. “I was thinking about all of the other things they could do.”
The smile at his lips grew wider, the sharp points of his canines peaking out. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, but they fell just as quickly, no smile in them.
“Is it me?” Her voice trembled as she spoke, drawing her hand from him and pressing it against her own chest. She slid backwards, worry an oily creature squeezing her belly until she thought she might retch. “Have I done something wrong? Something to hurt you?”
Ruby eyes flared wide, the water moving like ocean waves, spilling over the lip of the tub as he closed the small amount of distance between them. He cupped her face with such tenderness she thought she would be the one to cry now.
His voice was a dry rasp, his brow lined. “You have done nothing wrong, I swear. I promise, you are…” His eyes softened. “You are perfect.”
Some of the tightness in her belly eased. She wanted to reach out to him, but she held back, still fearing that perhaps her touch had been too much. Perhaps she had pushed him beyond the bounds of his comfort. She sounded small, like a child, when she finally asked “then what’s wrong? Why will you not tell me what’s wrong?”
A long sigh fell from his lips, his hands finding hers in the water, fingers threading together. He seemed to hesitate, his eyes scanning her face for a long moment, his brow drawn.
“It’s not that something is wrong…” He tipped his head to the side, a humourless laugh ringing hollowly in the air.
She chewed on the corner of her lip, unsure whether to press him for details or to give him space to speak. Maybe he just needed to think through what he was going to say.
The corner of his lip twitched. “Don’t bite your lip like that, my sweet. I can smell the blood from here.”
She froze, frowning. “I haven’t even bit it that hard-” The coppery taste of blood spread across her tongue and she frowned even more, watching as his smile grew wider. “Hey! Don’t change the subject.”
“I can’t help it when all I can think about is sinking my teeth into your lips.”
He seemed quite proud of that line, and she wasted no time in splashing his face, washing it away. He sputtered, wiping his face, his smug little grin replaced by a pout.
“My eyes are up here,” she motioned to her face, earning the return of a small smirk. “Astarion, please. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something I did wrong, or something I could do to help.”
It was another beat before he responded, his eyes creasing at the corners. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love. And I’m not upset, I promise.”
She elected to remain quiet this time, fluttering her fingers along the surface of the water as opposed to worrying her bottom lip with her teeth lest she distract him yet again.
The tenor of his voice softened, warm and low, reaching into her mind and easing away the last of her anxieties. “It’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s just…” He trailed off, holding her gaze steady as he searched for the right words. When finally they came to him, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, soft as feather down, as morning sunshine in the air. “You were being so gentle. You weren’t trying to seduce me, or manipulate me. You just…”
Again he trailed off. He reached for the hand still skimming across the top of the water, holding it tight. “I didn’t want to say anything because it felt absurd to be crying over such a thing. I know you love me. And yet.” He shrugged. “I was overwhelmed. I felt so loved.”
His words hung, suspended in the air between them like spider’s silk. Delicate and gauzy, shimmering with the silver of moonlight as it was spun. She wasn’t thinking as she reached out to him, as she crawled into his lap with her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the wet curls.
“My love,” she breathed. She could not find her voice, her words little more than a flutter of gossamer wings, butterflies caught in a storm, a lone songbird taking flight in morning mists. Her heart was aching, her ribs cracking, splintering beneath it, the power of her voice stolen as the feeling drowned her veins.
His brows lifted, confusion and yearning twined together in his eyes. “Yes?”
“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say, the only words that would form in her mind for the longest of times. She ought to be better with her words, but in this moment, her fingers wrinkled and the water tepid, there was nothing else. “I love you entirely.”
“And I love you, darling,” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips.
She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I love you.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, saying the words over and over again like a prayer. “I love you. I adore you. My chest aches from how much I love you.”
A breathy laugh escaped him as she passed her lips over his, as she scattered kisses across his cheeks and brow and the sharp tips of his ears. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”
“I want you to feel loved everyday, always.” A kiss to the side of his neck, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I love you, I’ll always love you.”
His arms came around her sides, hands resting on her back. “My love…”
She couldn’t stop now, smiling as his eyes flicked skyward in an eye-roll. “I love you!”
He held her tighter, drawing her in closer. “I love you too.”
“I love you with all my heart.” A brush of her lips against the bridge of his nose, the space between his brows, the hollow of his throat. His hands tightened, fingers pressing into her skin. “I’ll find a way to live forever so I can love you forever.”
A garbled sound escaped from his lips and she froze, her grip loosening in his hair. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping it until she loosed her hold, her hands aching.
“No,” he said, his voice rough as sandpaper. “No, don’t stop.”
Silver pooled in the corners of his eyes when she pulled away, lines tracking down his cheeks and gathering at the edges of his jaw. Little droplets tumbled silently down, little ripples spreading across the surface of the water.
“Are you sure?”
A small nod, one hand sliding up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. “I am sure. Don’t stop.” He offered her a small smile, even as tears streaked down his face. “Please?”
She brushed the tears away with the pads of her thumbs, cupping his face as she brought her lips to his again. She grinned as he sighed, his lips parting against hers. It was so incredibly gentle, so tender and soft that she almost burst into tears too, feeling like she might melt into a puddle and be washed away with the soap and the suds.
“I love you,” she murmured as she broke away, breathless even as she drew breath. Shadows clung to the walls, stretched out from the corners and puddled along the floor, the flickering candlelight never quite reaching fully into the cracks and corners of the room. Yet for all that shadow everything seemed to burn bright, everything awash in technicolour. It was like an artist had come in and painted over a sketch done in grey, bringing it to life with colours she could not even name, made of crushed gemstones and sunlight and sugar.
Another sob bubbled to the surface, but it was chased by a soft laugh. The hand at her neck twisted into her hair, his free hand stroking her side gently, reverently. He looked away from her, lips pressed into a thin line as if he were embarrassed from the sound.
“You’re safe, you know,” she promised, stroking his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”
He snorted, chuckling softly as he slowly looked back at her. “For being told I’m loved?”
She brushed away another tear. “Yes, exactly.”
He looked incredulous. “Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as a comment, one brow quirking up. “You don’t mind?”
“I’m just glad you trust me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “That you feel safe with me.”
He looked on the verge of saying something smart, so she kissed him quickly, fighting against her smile as he let out a choked sound, all that remained of whatever his snarky little comment would have been.
“That was unfair,” he whined, trying and failing to glower at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She kissed the corner of one eye, then the other, the shudder that wracked through him echoing in the hollows of her bones. “I just love you, I couldn’t help it.”
He chuckled again, running his fingers through her hair now. “Well if you’re that determined to shower me with affection, I suppose I shouldn’t stop you.”
She frowned. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop.”
“Even if it makes you cry?”
His pale brows rose higher, the corner of his lip twitching. “Only if you promise to kiss them away.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling as close as she could to the coolness of his body. Tepid water sloshed around her hips, but she did not care, did not even notice as the bath grew colder. It could have been made of ice and snow and still she would have felt nothing but the warmth of her heart, burning as hot as a star set to explode and spread fire and stardust through her veins. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest, feel it beat in time with her own, a harmony only they could create.
“I promise,” she murmured, lips against the curve of his jaw, trailing kisses up his face, tasting salt on her tongue.
“Then I definitely don’t want you to stop.”
She could have said something smart then. About how he was ridiculous, how he was being awfully needy and demanding. But in truth she didn’t have it in her to say something sharp, to come up with some witty rejoinder. Any smart comments she made were like training swords to the sharp-edged daggers he could create with only his tongue anyways. But more than that, she just didn’t want to. Why would she cut through the delicate gossamer of this moment? Why would she tear apart the diaphanous veil that clung to them?
All she wanted to do most days was hold him to her chest and press her face into his hair as she breathed in the rosemary and bergamot that he was so fond of. She wanted to cup his cheeks and kiss his face until he blushed, until he laughed, until he was so full of love he would never doubt his worth again. To run her hands down his back, to tangle her fingers in his hair and comb them through his curls, to soothe him so he felt safe as he slept.
She was not about to pass up an opportunity to do exactly that, and she was not about to tease him when she was nearly fracturing from the effort it took to keep everything she felt contained in her veins and her bones.
She had been struck dumb with love, but she had never been happier, never been so glad to sit in a cold bath with wrinkled fingers. There were not even any words to describe it, so she repeated the same words over and over. That she loved him, oh how she loved him, her precious Astarion.
Eventually his tears began to slow, his quiet sobs no longer echoing through the room. She didn’t pull away, at least not right away, wanting to stay tangled with him for just a little while longer. She murmured one more “I love you,” pressed one more kiss to the corner of his lips, before she pulled away.
Astarion’s eyes were filled with stars when she found them, the smile on his lips adoring. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She brushed a damp curl behind his ear. “But you’re not crying any longer.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stop, darling.” He sighed, mischief in his eyes once more. “And just when I was enjoying it, too.”
She splashed water at him, snickering as he shouted. “Come on! The water is getting cold!”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together, holding her fast. “I’m not the one who started kissing me, darling.”
“I was trying to make you feel loved,” she whined, wiggling in his grasp but finding she was unable to escape.
“And you very much succeeded.” He spoke languidly, drawing out each word slowly, the sharp points of his teeth catching the buttery light. “I’ve never felt so loved before, in all my long, depraved existence.”
She looped her arms around his neck once more, running her fingers through his hair. “Well I’m very glad for that.”
He inclined his head, an approving smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I want to let go of you just yet.”
“Astarion,” she hissed. “I wanted to take a bath.”
He was all wickedness now, tilting his head back, holding her fast with his eyes as much as with his arms. “And I wanted to stay curled up in my lover’s arms.”
A shiver ran down her spine, her body momentarily out of her control as she shook. She pressed closer against her better judgement, searching for the scraps of warmth his body offered.
He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, reminding her of a lazy cat from the way he watched her with half-lidded eyes. “So doesn’t this seem like an answer to what we both want?”
“We’re not exactly doing any bathing.” She shivered again, gooseflesh rushing across her arms.
The way he smirked made it seem like he had won a prize, all satisfaction and smug delight. “It looks to me like you’d be better off staying in my arms, darling. If you don’t, you might catch a chill.”
Frowning, she planned to push away from him and crawl out of the bath, but she was shivering again, harder this time, her teeth clacking together. For all the warmth stored within the cage of her ribs, beating endlessly in time with his heart, clearly it was not enough to keep the chills away when she was waist-deep in a cold bath.
Astarion grimaced, taking note of the gooseflesh prickling her skin, the way her teeth clattered together, the unending shivers she could not seem to control. He pried one hand from his hair, inspecting her palm, before sighing dramatically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this cold?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, looking away at the line of candles, watching as wax pooled at their bases.
A click of his tongue drew her attention back, although she wished she had not looked back as she was met with a look of reproach, his mouth a thin line, the corners of his eyes creased as they narrowed.
It was so bizarre, so utterly absurd to see such an expression on his face, when usually there was mirth or mischief or plain wickedness, that she couldn’t help but giggle.
He cocked his head to the side, the gesture of a predator having cornered its prey. “I’m not really sure what you find so funny,” he said leaning close. “But please, do enlighten me.”
“Nothing!” She shook her head quickly as she squeaked out her response. “There’s nothing that’s funny.”
“Hmm,” was his only response, although he looked like he didn’t believe her for even a second.
She tried to draw her hand away, to press it safely to her chest, but he held it tightly, his eyes boring into hers for a long, long while.
“I’m only a little cold,” she said, finally conceding. “I hardly noticed it.”
He sighed, loosening his hold. “Well I think it probably is a good idea to get out of the bath.”
She was not afforded a moment to consider his words as he stood, capturing her in his arms as he stepped from the tub.
“Hey! I haven’t washed up yet.” She wriggled in his arms, trying to get free.
“Relax.” He smirked, setting her down. “You’re not bathing in freezing water.”
“It wasn’t freezing.” She pretended she didn’t see the way his eyes flicked to the goosebumps still crawling across her arms and her legs now, too. Or the way she shivered again.
He sighed. “It’s a good thing I don’t love you for your intelligence.”
“Excuse me?!”
His hands hovered on either side of her face, his nose bumping against hers as he kissed her lightly. “I adore you, my dear.”
She glared at him as he drew back. “That is not what you said.”
“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, moving away to begin draining the bath. “I adore you, and I will always love you, no matter what silly things you say.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re not implying I’m dumb.”
He held a hand to his chest, looking stricken. “On my honour! I would never say such a thing.”
She considered turning around and stomping back to bed. But there had been a reason she had wanted to bathe, beyond lavishing Astarion in love, and she still itched to wash her body of the sweat and blood and other things that still clung to her.
“Don’t look at me like that, darling.” He looked on the verge of pouting again, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have some cuddles again in just a few minutes.”
“What are you plotting?”
“Don’t look so suspicious, I’m only drawing you a new bath.” He huffed, making a grand show of refilling the tub with steaming water.
Warmth like a newly kindled fire bloomed in her chest, velvet softness wrapping itself around her heart. It was a small gesture, and yet it set her alight, made her feel as though she were glowing a little from gratefulness, from the love that had her in its thrall.
Still, she had to argue, curious why he would do such a thing when he’d only wanted to stay snug in bed in the first place. “I can do it, it’s okay. I know you’d only wanted to remain in bed.”
Another click of his tongue as he reached for some of his oils, sniffing them delicately before sprinkling them across the water. “I never said that.”
She groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Oh yes, I know.” He set the bottles to the side, offering her his hand, a teasing smile on his lips. “It’s allowed me to get away with much in the past. I’m hoping it will let me get away with much more in our future.”
She took his hand, letting him draw her back into the now steaming water. The heat of the bath seeped into her bones, relaxing her muscles as she sank into the fragrant water, tipping her head back so her hair streamed out behind her.
“How’s that?” Astarion asked, settling into the tub once more. He drew her legs into his lap, running his hands over them beneath the surface of the water. “Better, right?”
She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, it is much better.”
He flicked water her way, smug. “Now where were we?”
“Well I think I was almost done washing you,” she said, her memory hazy. Most of what she remembered was kissing his face, the desire to do so once more like a creature curling in the spaces between her cells, coiled tight, willing to wrap herself in his arms once more if he bid her to.
“That’s right,” he breathed. Something softened in his gaze, his countenance turning gentle, almost reverent. “But you’ve made me feel so loved. I’d like to do the same for you.”
A flush creeped across her face, reaching down her neck and across her chest as he took her hand. “You don’t have, I didn’t do it because I wanted you to reciprocate. I just-”
He kissed her hand, cutting her off, and for a moment he could have been an angel, the soft light gilding his features, his ivory hair glowing like moonlight.
“I know,” he murmured against her skin, eyes opening to find hers. “But I’d like to do it all the same. If you’ll allow me.”
There was nothing hidden in his voice, no double meaning to his words. Nor was his smile sly, or his eyes sharp as daggers. Nothing but earnestness lay in his countenance, a determined sincerity that had her caving at once.
How could ever say no to such a display? Even now that his enslavement was behind him and his sire long dead, he was still guarded. Less so with her, but guarded all the same. It would take many years to coax him fully from his habits, from his attempts to shield himself and his true emotions. But he was not shielding himself now, he was not hiding anything. So how could she ever say no when his heart had unfurled like a flower in bloom, unveiling how he truly felt?
She leaned forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, unable to pry herself away from touching him gently, from stroking his face with light fingers. “Nothing would make me happier, love.”
He leaned into her touch, a sigh feathering across her skin as his eyes closed. “Are you sure there is nothing that has ever made you happier?”
“Astarion.”
He lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. His eyes fluttered open, his lashes tickling the tips of her fingers. “I was only teasing, love. Although.” His voice turned smooth as warmed butter. “I hope that everything I do makes you happy.”
“You make me happiest,” she breathed.
He sighed again, one hand circling around her wrist, his shoulders sagging. He looked like he was on the verge of melting, of falling apart and slumping into her arms. But he straightened, pressing a kiss to her palm before pulling away. “Then let me show you how much I love you.”
True to his word he did his best to wash her in kind, and the feeling of the warm water and the soap and his scattered kisses were so heavenly she nearly cried, too. They stayed together until the water grew cold once more, and then they wrapped themselves in soft towels, water puddling beneath their feet as they returned to their bedroom, as they perched on the bed while she carefully toweled off his hair, biting back a grin at how it stood up at funny angles.
And when water no longer beaded on their skin they curled up in bed once more, tangled together beneath the layers of blankets. Astarion’s head was pillowed against her chest, and she idly ran her fingers through his still-damp curls, listening to the even tempo of his breaths, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beating in his chest.
“I love you,” she murmured into his hair, stifling a yawn as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.
He mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, a sleepy response that she felt in her bones more than heard quivering in the air. It made her smile, her arms tightening around him as she tried to hold him closer. She was happy, happier than she’d ever thought was possible, and she would do her best to make sure he was happy every day too, until the end of her days.
Her grip on you was more than physical. Before his passing, you argued with Renly in private about it. How Margaery had honey in her mouth and magic in her touch. She was clearly the more superior lover than her brother. You couldn’t prove Renly wrong, but the compliment earned you Margaery’s sole attention. She rarely kept you out of her sight.
When her engagement to Joffery became official, you feared the end of everything you shared. A sad, bitter feeling sat in your gut. She had been busier, navigating all of Cersei’s actions. You didn’t blame her. If Margaery was to be queen, this was expected. You blamed yourself for catching feelings in the first place. You weren’t important. You didn’t even have a last name.
Two nights before her wedding, she grabbed your wrist. Leading you through the unfamiliar maze of King’s Landing. Away from prying eyes, Margaery led you towards the dark underbelly of the giant castle. Somewhere between the dungeons and where they kept the dragon skulls. She pressed herself into you. She was slow, taking her time in moving against you. Your eyes fluttered closed. You smiled into the kiss.
“I missed you,” she whispered between kisses. Her forehead touched yours. “You make me wish I wasn’t queen. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to kiss you in awful places like this. You deserve to be kissed under the summer sun, surrounded by all things beautiful. One day, we will. I promise.” You kissed her again. Throwing your arms around her, your passion enraptured her. She gasped out loud when your mouth dug deep into the crease between her neck and her shoulder.
joel when he knows ellie is safe: *actively dying / has not moved or spoken in days*
joel when he knows ellie is in danger: *wakes himself out of a feverish dream state, stands up for the first time since getting stabbed, strangles a man with his bare hands in a sudden burst of strength, ambushes another, duct tapes a guy to a chair and tortures him, murders them for being involved in taking ellie, walks miles in the cold to find her, all while carrying her backpack bc he knows her belongings are important to her, “its ok babygirl”*
I feel like I'm very defensive of Dutch not because I'm interested in defending a man who was awful and did do awful things but because I feel like interpreting Dutch as purely cruel, purely selfish, purely evil flattens his character and doing so takes a lot of the true tragedy and pain out of RDR2's story. It makes it just into a tale of a decent man being tricked by a bad man instead of what it really is: a man being betrayed by someone whom he loved and who loved him back but tragically couldn't overcome his own selfishness, egotism and fear to do right by him. I know I've talked about this before but this hurts so much worse.
Meanwhile Micah is exactly as shitty as he seems. And while that gives him a lot less depth it does make him a good comparison point for Arthur regarding his high/low honor aspects. Also, like the other various villains, Micah works as a reflection of the worst aspects of Dutch and the lifestyle the gang leads.
