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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago

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It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust. So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were, but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not.

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head.

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#supernatural #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom

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jaylver · 6 months ago

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THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around.

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one.

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay?

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable.

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now.

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say?

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay.

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging.

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead.

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything.

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him.

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock?

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right.

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place.

"Can I hug you?"

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better.

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away.

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him,"

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you.

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places.

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room.

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably.

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay.

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk.

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step.

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay.

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again?

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real.

"Can we talk?"

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained.

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope.

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while.

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was.

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?"

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him.

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them.

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon.

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare.

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers.

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—"

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night.

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you.

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry,"

"Jay—"

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all?

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened.

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all.

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself.

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears.

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you.

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you.

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?"

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?"

"Of you leaving again,"

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated.

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced. Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else.

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close.

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget.

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible,"

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes,"

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you.

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side.

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

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sinnabum45 · 4 months ago

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Unexpected Babysitting

Link to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description] Digital comic of Ace Attorney characters: Miles Edgeworth, Cody Hackins, Maya Fey, and Pearl Fey.

Page one: Colorful, blurred image of Amusement park’s entrance. People are walking around. Text: “Amusement Park: Steel Samurai special event.” Miles is walking and is internally excited. There are people walking around behind him. Miles’ thoughts: “They’re giving out exclusive Steel Samurai merchandise today! Yippie! Yippie!” There is a small drawing of Miles in his thought excitedly moving his hands up and down. Text box: “Bought a pass one month in advance.”

Page two: Cody yells “Hey, Pops with the frilly thing!!” Miles is surprised and turns around to see an upset Cody standing behind him. Cody, point at Miles: What are you doing here?! Don’t tell me something bad happened again!” Miles frantically tries to explain, “Wha— Ergh! Nothing happened- I’m just…” Cody interrupts him, and stomps his foot. Cody: “Yeah right! Why are you here then?!” Miles: “Ghk!” Maya is off screen and calls out to Miles, “Ah! It’s Edgeworth! And Cody!” Miles and Cody turns towards her.

Page three: Maya and Pearl are walking up to them. Maya is smiling and Pearl is shyly holding Maya’s hand. Maya: “What are you doing here, Edgeworth?” Pearl: “Hello, Mr. Edgeworth.” Maya, snickering: “Maybe you’re here because a “certain someone” is in today’s stage play?” Miles is embarrassed, clenching his jaw and his eyes are closed. Behind him are texts: “Why does this happen every time? I just want to enjoy the show in peace, ALONE. I knew I should’ve worn the disguise today!” There is a little drawing of Miles with “said disguise”. He is fixing his sunglasses with his right hand and a black coat over his usual suit. The kids start approaching Miles. Maya with a mischievous smile: “Aww, don’t be embarrassed! I love Steel Samurai, too!” Pearl: “Me, too!” Cody with his hands raised to his chest: “What?! You like Steel Samurai, too, Pops?!” Miles is backing away, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Page four: Two sketches of different scenes. Miles is paying for everyone’s food. Behind him, Maya has one arm raised over her head: “Yay~!! Thanks, Edgeworth!” Pearl is holding onto Maya’s arm: “Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!” Cody has his hands raised to his chest again “You’re not so bad after all, Pops!” Second sketch: Miles is facing an off screen worker with a glare. “Excuse me. She asked for no pickles.” Pearl is behind him with tears in her eyes and she is holding her hands up to her chest. Maya and Cody are sitting at a table eating burgers. Maya is looking at Pearl with worry. End description.]

I wanted to have the Steel Samurai fans hang out 🥺🤲 They probably discuss a bunch of facts and share their interpretations about it together.

Miles does not know how to interact with kids, that’s for sure LOL Maya making fun of Miles for his crush on WP is now my favorite thing (There was supposed to be a whole scene with PowersWorth, but maybe another time)🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ I’m assuming Pearl got into Steel Samurai because Maya likes it!

Also, I really like how the anime emphasizes Cody’s impact on Miles. I feel like he was the catalyst for Miles to change. And the scenes of Miles struggling (and losing) against Cody in the games were very cute 🥹

#image description #described #ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #miles edgeworth #cody hackins #maya fey #pearl fey #art #digital art #my art #comic #SinnaArt

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emilybeemartin · 1 year ago

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Just to tie in my two themes this month----

Additional notes, because poll options apparently limit their characters:

Frodo finds great peace in watching the tides rise and fall throughout each day. He attends all the ranger programs on birds and seashells and fills pages with sketches and poetry.

Sam meticulously selects postcards in the gift shop for each of his friends and spends a whole morning writing and addressing them. He also buys Junior Ranger hats for his kids and a variety of Appalachian jams for Rosie.

Park rangers launch a Missing Person search for Aragorn when they realize his car's been parked at Avalanche Creek for three days. The search runs for almost a week before he comes strolling out the opposite side of the park, supporting one of the SAR techs who twisted an ankle during the search.

Legolas is first drawn to Olympic for the towering, mossy temperate rainforests, but the ground goes out from under him when he steps onto Second Beach for the first time. He spends an entire day watching the light and tides shift on the sea stacks, and he leaves feeling both full and hollow, like a bell that's just been rung.

Mammoth is only Gimli's first stop on a cavern tour, followed by Jewel and Wind Caves and Carlsbad Caverns. Wind Cave is his favorite for the unusual formations. He makes an obnoxious tween boy cry in Carlsbad for breaking off a speleothem.

Boromir is on a tour of military parks. He asks so many questions to the intern working the info station at Fort Sumter the kid has to go find the park historian. His favorite site is Vicksburg because that place was buckwild, though he silently judges one of the reenactors for his clumsy handling of a black powder rifle.

Merry also makes stops in Jurassic and Dinosaur National Monuments. He watches every park video, takes selfies in front of all the fossil exhibits, and earns his Junior Ranger badge at each one. He buys a keychain for Pippin.

Pippin actually gets four citations, mostly for trying to stick his hands in mud pots. He doesn't mean anything by it---he's just so delighted and curious about the bizarre landscape. He winds up with several thermal burns and dumps a king's ransom in the donation box on his last day.

Gandalf gets dinged by rangers for not paying the $5 fee for Trunk Bay, but he acts senile until they eventually decide to drop it. He gets postcards from everyone and responds to none of them.

Faramir and Eowyn are traveling together and do many of the same hikes and rides, but they do have some different preferences off-trail. Eowyn drags Faramir to a rodeo and the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar in Jackson Hole, and he goads her into Ranger Shelton Johnson's living history programs on the Buffalo Soldiers in Yosemite.

Eomer is bike-packing on his sport cruiser motorcycle. He goes to Roosevelt south unit for the wild horse herds but ends up spending half a day watching a prairie dog town. He takes 400 photos of them, mostly blurry, and texts them to Eowyn.

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tatterings · 7 months ago

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Art by @solmesia - Go give him love!

Caressed by Claws - A BG3BigBang fic

AO3 LINK HERE

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Explicit (Lots of smut & a little plot)

Tags/warnings: 18+, monsterfucking, werebear halsin, trans astarion, Halsin eats pussy like a man dying of thirst in a desert, creampies, breeding kink, knotting

Word count: 9,966

Also fic pasted below :3c

Silvanus never spoke to Halsin in an audible way. Not like how he would converse with his mate Astarion, or even swap stories with the wildlife of Faerun. Despite this, the Oak Father found other ways to pass his intentions, blessings, and commandments onto the druid - through dreams, urges, and signs. And during his three centuries of life, Halsin had experienced the calling of his god many times.

Halsin had been experiencing all three phenomena as of late, while helping Baldur's Gate recover after the intense battle with the Netherbrain. His dreams and instincts were vivid and raw, the signs from Silvanus appearing during his daily work; he'd volunteered to help rebuild the city's parks. He included the requirement that they would be expanded, with a special area reserved for children to be able to romp and play, allowing city-goers a larger green space in which to commune with nature. While the parks, with their sapling trees and spindly wildflowers blooming in the wind, was no vast wood like he was used to, it was better than nothing. Especially for a battle-ravaged town that was actively being rebuilt.

Though the work was tiresome, fully exhausting his spell power and even his physical bulk and muscle each day, the druid could not find inner peace. He was restless, aching with the impulse to roam, to explore. An urge so deep and carnal that Halsin understood it had to be yet another sign from the Oak Father… but stronger. A sign of which he had no choice but to take heed. He decided to take a break from his rebuilding duties, with Astarion supportive and encouraging him to do whatever "dancing-with-bears-rituals” that he needed to do.

With his lover's blessing, Halsin set out and began to roam the craggy wilderness surrounding Baldur's Gate. It took weeks for him to feel another sign, as the days passed and the moon went from waning, to new, to waxing. It was an internal sign, a heat from within that could only mean that his bear side - animalistic, raw, hungry , was growing stronger. It had become easier for him to call upon it, to have his fingernails elongate and his hair run down his back, turning into a pelt as he fell on all fours to shift into wildshape. He found himself wandering for days on end in bear form, rather than elven form, feeling more at home and "in his own skin" when digging his claws into the wet clay of the earth, or using his nimble lips to pluck ripe berries from the bushes. He spoke to Silvanus mentally and spiritually, even in this form, pleading for some answer to the unsettling feeling he'd wrestled with since they'd defeated the Netherbrain.

In his day-to-day life, pre-Netherbrain, pre-adventuring, pre-self-imposed spiritual exile, Halsin had always battled with his bear side for control. Whether in fits of rage, or in the heat of passion, he felt the throbbing of his head (or other regions) announcing the presence of the Bear deep within him, clawing to be free. Astarion had been most gracious whenever he had lost control of his ursine side, including on their first sexual encounter. The vampire had also giggled heartily when Halsin ripped apart foes in battle after the bloodshed necessitated his wildshape. And yet, Halsin still felt a sense of shame when his control was weak and his inner bear called hungrily to him.

On the first full moon out of Baldur's Gate, Halsin felt the calling even more deeply. The urge to shift into bear form, to slip into the comfort of fur and claws and teeth, was as tempting to him as a tall glass of cold honey mead, as comforting as the warmth of the bedcovers he shared with Astarion. But Halsin felt he had to resist. And to resist, he had to focus intensely on the present, the now, and on his current state. He realized that needed to listen to the bear; not to succumb blindly to it.

He settled in the middle of a clearing of birch trees, lowering himself to the damp moss that cushioned his large frame. The druid crossed his legs, laying his palms facing upwards on his knees. He closed his eyes, and listened. A mild wind, just enough to stir the leaves and brambles within the clearing, passed through the wood. The rustle of squirrels died down, as though they paused their hopping through the underbrush and barking amongst the treetops.

Before him in the blackness of his own eyelids he saw flashes of spirits, the sparkle of magic. He wanted to see, to open his eyes and behold the motes of light firsthand, but could not let himself disconnect now, from this place of intense focus. He felt himself float upward, almost as though he were sitting in a tree high above. But it was not his body that floated, merely his consciousness - he thought, assuming it was some form of astral projection. Meditation, and crossing into a spiritual realm, was a finicky magic at best. Though he was blessed by Silvanus and able to do so relatively at will, the planes of existence were still difficult to traverse, even to the former Arch Druid. He couldn't recall any time during the past 300 years in which he had experienced a similar sensation, of incorporealness, of his physical form feeling foreign and "separate".

Although the transcendent out of body experience was new to Halsin, spiritual beings and energies were quite familiar, and the air crackled around the clearing with the energy bestowed upon them by the full moon and the elf's druidic power. Below, he saw the sparkles of energy materialize from the shadows, and lumber over to his corporeal form. If his spirit-self could breathe, his lungs would have stopped inhaling and exhaling. The energy, now in the form of a gigantic bear, much larger than his normal wild shape, sniffed about his body below. His body still sat cross-legged, deep in the meditative state. Even in his projected form, though, the druid could sense the raw energy materializing within the clearing, emanating from the bear as it padded slowly in a circle

You have kept me from fully awakening, druid, the bear said, its energy crackling as its thoughts manifest in Halsin's mind. Halsin wasn't sure whether it was telepathy or just through just a feeling , but he understood the intent of the bear, as it padded in a path around him. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling - it rather felt quite like when he would mumble to himself whenever he assessed patients, or when he had read aloud from dusty tomes in the Emerald Grove's library. It almost felt as though he was talking to himself when speaking with this bear. Halsin saw his body's eyelids twitch, his head nod slightly, and heard, despite his body's lips not moving, his response.

"I have. It has always been difficult to control the beast within." He had embarrassingly morphed into a bear on more than one occasion with Astarion. Vivid memories flashed in his mind: as the heat of their passion settled into his loins, he had lowered himself on all fours above the vampire only to find that his hands on either side of his lithe frame had turned to paws. Astarion had always taken it in stride, in good-natured teasing at the most. He took it as a compliment that Halsin could hardly control himself during their lovemaking. However, it was not something upon which the druid enjoyed dwelling. He saw this loss of control as a weakness in him.His rumination was interrupted by the echoing of the bear's words in his mind, reverberating between his ears like the dripping of water hitting the bottom of a cavern.

But why control what has been gifted to you by the Oak Father? There is balance in the loss of control, as well. To always remain in control is not a natural state. Do you believe that nature is something that can be directed and commanded at anyone's whim? Even one blessed by Silvanus?

"That may be so, wise one," Halsin readily admitted. Astarion had often taken over in their lovemaking, directing Halsin's movements, his touches, sometimes even his breaths. Halsin felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the thought. What relief it always was to him, when he did not have to control himself, and he could relax and follow the directions of his lover. But again, that was a form of control, to be subject to the whims of the little vampire. "However, it is a risk to those I care for and to others if I do not reign in the…animalistic tendencies," he finished.

There was a long silence as the energy seemed to die down, although the ursine form below was still present. It had stopped in front of Halsin’s body, and shifted its weight from paw to paw, its magical breath exhaled in what seemed like puffs of fog. The fog settled around his cross-legged body below, wafting over the soft moss surrounding him.

Perhaps then, a bargain? The spirit bear asked. Its hulking frame was imposing even though it was immaterial. Were it a physical being, despite that he regularly spoke with animals including the wildest of bears, Halsin was positive he could not have remained so calm. You are quite dear to the Oak Father, a true steward of nature. It behooves you to fully accept the gift of wild shape.

Halsin did not respond; or, he realized, could not respond, for he felt somewhat dizzy at the idea of being held so dear by the Oak Father. He merely waited, both in his meditative, projected form, and his large body below, bathed in the light of the full moon. With how bright the moon shone upon him, he seemed almost as pale as the bear. He could not find a reason to disagree with the spirit; any gift Silvanus could bestow upon him should be graciously and fully received. And yet… he was filled with trepidation. He had made a fool and a beast of himself enough times in the past purely by accident. But to embrace that possibility?

I can give you respite for most days . In exchange that once a month, you free me - fully - without holding back.

Halsin's mind raced with the implications, and he sat in silence for many minutes, but the bear was in no hurry. It merely paced slowly around his body, facing towards him the entire time. It said nothing - just watched. And waited.

"The full moon?" Halsin felt himself ask, though no words crossed his lips. He saw his body below him shift only slightly, as though squirming with discomfort. The full moon was predictable, at least, so he knew when the bear would come "without holding back", whatever that meant. But what would happen when it did? His mulling was interrupted by the spirit's response.

Indeed, for the veil between realms is thinnest at the moon's peak. The moon affects the tides of Faerun, the minds of the unwell and magic-sensitive, and also the energy and magic of your bond with me. Once per month, you will become truly one with the Bear.

It was a heartbeat. It was a decade. Halsin could not tell, could not know, how much time had passed. For the bear had stopped moving again, and simply faced his body, sitting on its gigantic haunches. Halsin's meditative astral form did not move on its own. Rather, it felt itself pulled towards his body, almost as if he were made of magnetic material and his body were true north.

Halsin did not need to speak his acceptance verbally to agree to the deal. He would acquiesce to this compromise with the Bear. With himself. With Silvanus. It only took the thought of his acceptance to mark his agreement.

The bear, sparkling with spiritual energy as though it were a ghost, bared its teeth in what could only be interpreted as satisfaction. It lowered its head, stepping forward, and seemed to melt within Halsin's body like snowflakes on skin. As it melded into him, within him, Halsin shifted from his cross-legged position to all fours, as if by instinct. The soft moss cushioned his fingertips. Then soon, his claws.

In a mere moment he had changed, much more quickly than his normal wild shape transformation. And he was large, much larger than his normal cave bear form, which would seem a mere yearling cub to his bulk now. Halsin sniffed the air, the ground, his wet nose wrinkling as he picked up so many alluring scents, trails to follow, to hunt . To mark his territory, his territory, no one else's, no bear nor elf or creature. The full moon above bathed his gigantic, furry body in silvery light until he disappeared into the strand of birches and his presence was only a low growl rumbling from the shadows.

Astarion had been impatiently awaiting Halsin’s return, hungry for his partner both proverbially and literally. Halsin was willing to provide his daily meals; and just as eager to sate his desire for intimacy. The vampire had not gone hungry with his mate away, having fed on beasts from the bush surrounding the camp. But he missed his beast, how the warmth from Halsin's body heat, always turning their bedroll into a furnace. How he could make even their temporary camp feel like a home. After a few weeks, even the bedroll and its furs had begun to lose Halsin's scent of honey and basil.

Halsin had decided to return to him in the evening, when he knew that Astarion would be awake and probably fussing over his mending, or hunched over some dusty tome. Astarion was indeed thumbing absentmindedly through a novel in front of the campfire, nestled on top of a cushion he had dragged from his tent. Halsin's arrival was announced by his soft footfalls, shuffling across the cobblestone path surrounding their camp. Astarion's sensitive hearing could pick up that walking pattern anywhere, and the vampire automatically rose to his feet. The book fell from his hands and dropped to the ground, an act that would normally have Astarion wincing in horror and uttering an oath. But the importance of not wrinkling pages or smearing ink paled in comparison to the importance of seeing his Halsin.

"My heart," Halsin said, his voice low and heavy with affection. He stepped forward to receive his lover right as Astarion leapt into his embrace. The vampire wrapped his slender arms around Halsin's neck, burying his face into the druid's chest. "I missed you too, Astarion," Halsin continued, inhaling deeply into the pale elf's silver curls. Bergamot and rosemary, a tinge of aged brandy. A mixture of aromas that brought deep comfort to Halsin any time he caught a whiff.

Astarion pulled away from Halsin's chest, but remained solidly in the druid's embrace. He stood on tiptoes and craned his neck to meet Halsin's soft hazel gaze. "Next time you need to find yourself darling, do try to do so faster ," Astarion said, his words bouncing with playfulness and half-serious whining. His lips were full and pushed into a pout. Halsin couldn't resist the urge to take them into his own, and kissed Astarion softly. Slowly. Their lips barely brushing together, and just a tentative flick of the druid's tongue on Astarion's bottom lip.

Surprise caused Astarion to pull from the kiss first. He had anticipated that Halsin would devour him the moment they reunited, and had satisfied himself many of the nights alone while daydreaming of the various ways in which Halsin would take him. So for the druid to meet his lips with such… caution, tenderness… rather than his typically ravenous hunger was disconcerting.

"My love, whatever is the matter?" the vampire asked, swaying slightly side to side, causing the larger elf to shift in place as well. Halsin gazed down at him, his eyes flashing golden - from the fire, Astarion concluded. "Surely you're pleased to be back with m-" His words were crushed from his lungs as Halsin pulled him nearly off his feet, into a crushing embrace.

"Of course my heart, your presence soothes and relieves me. I am immeasurably pleased to be back," Halsin said, kissing the top of Astarion's head before releasing the vampire to hold him at arm's length and gaze at him. "It has just been a… trying time. A test that rivals any of my experiences - save for the banishing of the shadow curse." His voice betrayed his weariness, his volume trailing off toward the end of his sentence.

Astarion frowned, clicking his tongue in a series of tsks , and raised his hand to cradle Halsin's cheek. "My poor sweet bear…," he said, holding his hand still as Halsin nuzzled into it. "As much as I'd love to hear all the juicy details, I suppose I can wait to hear about how well you danced with those bears."

Halsin's chuckle shook his shoulders. He deeply appreciated his partner’s dry humor. "I appreciate that, Astarion," he said, pressing another kiss to the vampire's lips. This kiss was more certain, more intentional. "Let us make up for some lost time, hm?" the druid asked with a wicked grin, nodding his head toward their tent.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully, mostly full of lazy days enjoying each others' company, reading, and hunting together (and hunting each other) in the evenings. They'd done enough work defeating the Netherbrain, and prior to Halsin's stint in the wilderness, helping rebuild the city overall. So, Astarion had insisted it was time that others do some work for the good of the city. Halsin could only chuckle at his lover's insistence that do-gooding was nauseating.

Eventually, languidly lounging about the camp become a bore, and though he enjoyed the bounty of nature and camping quite thoroughly, Halsin felt the need to again move . To roam. In his restlessness, he had found himself willingly accompanying Astarion for an evening foray from their camp into the markets of Baldur's Gate. They would also be staying in more chic settings than their campsite, for the evening. Astarion had been complaining of sleeping in their tents when the Elfsong was now right there , newly renovated after the mindflayer attack, and now with private rooms.

He had agreed to join his mate to satisfy both Astarion's need for a good day's sleep, and his own desire to roam. His own need was more intense now than ever before, as the moon had waned, then disappeared altogether, then began waxing again closer and closer to being full. The instinct pulled at him, the need to explore, to… claim a territory?

Halsin shook his head, brushing away the thoughts just as he brushed away the sensations of the flies, the mingling crowds, and the noise of the markets within the city. He often found himself overwhelmed by the bustle of crowds, the shouts of vendors and the smells of the unwashed masses, manure, and other various scents. Not to mention, the wanton crime and seemingly endless homelessness and squalor. It was enough to unnerve him on any given day. But on this foray, Halsin felt a particular distaste for the less savory aspects of the city, and acted almost without thought to “correct” unsavory situations.

On their way in, Halsin scruffed a man who had attempted to lift some coin from a blind beggar’s donation cup, throwing the man against a wall as if he were a ragdoll. Astarion giggled with glee, clapping at Halsin's uncharacteristic brutality. Halsin stared at his hands before raising his gaze to the bloodied nose of the failed thief. After the would-be bandit recovered from the shock, he had scampered off into an alley. Halsin felt something within him aching to chase the man, and he fought, not without difficulty, to stand firmly in place instead of following him.

"Well done, darling," Astarion cheered, always up for a bit of chaos, whether or not in the name of being a do-gooder. He reached around to grab a handful of Halsin's muscled rump over his trousers. Halsin had hardly noticed; he was too lost in his thoughts.

He would, of course, have remedied the situation regardless, either by holding the thief for the proper authorities, or scaring him senseless as a wild beast. His unthinking, instinctual urge to thrash unsettled the druid, who had spent countless years wresting control of his temper, of his wildshape, of the desire to stay in bear form more often than in his true elven form. He nearly ran into several other market goers as he mulled over his outburst while navigating the market. He was mostly still lost in his thoughts when Astarion meandered up to a booth.

He watched from afar as Astarion bartered with a vendor of perfumes and bejeweled bottles of essential oils. One of the things he enjoyed most about his vampire is that he smelled so, so good. Trips to the perfumer or alchemist were not uncommon for Astarion, and Halsin hadn't thought twice about the relationships he had been building within the city as vendors returned slowly once their storefronts were rebuilt. His ever-talkative and ebullient vampire was chatting with the vendor as he reached out for a particular bottle on the table.

Halsin felt his eyes narrow and the fine baby hairs on the back of his neck raise as the vendor ran his hand on top of Astarion's fingers, lingering there a beat too long. Before Halsin realized it, he felt pulled, like the ocean being pulled by the forces of Faerun's moon, towards the booth, his top lip curled in a snarl. His bulk cast a shadow over the perfumer's table, then his face.

"That's enough ," he barked at the vendor, who withdrew his hand quickly, eyes wide at the hulking bear of a man, whose eyes glinted an odd gold. Both the vendor’s hands raised upward in a gesture of surrender, and he backed several steps away from his table, eyeing Halsin all the while. Astarion took advantage of the distraction, slipping the bergamot essential oil into his pocket.

"My apologies, darling," he purred at the vendor, before wrapping a delicate arm around Halsin's bicep. "Come now, dear Halsin," he said, steering the large man away from the booth. "This is the second time today that you've thrown a tantrum," the vampire purred under his breath as they ambled back towards the Elfsong, Astarion's pockets heavier with the same amount of gold he had set off with, but several vials of oils that were new. "Not that I mind your recent spree in enacting violence or threats thereof, to be clear. But is something wrong?"

Halsin did not need Astarion’s words to know that the vampire didn’t mind the violence. From the moment he'd stormed to the booth, the large druid had been able to smell Astarion's arousal. Halsin did not answer immediately, acknowledging the question with only a growl from the back of his throat. He was distracted by the dampness that had to be staining Astarin's panties. Halsin's hand quivered as it pulled the little elf closer, settling on his lower back, Halsin's fingertips pressing into his flesh after slipping under the vampire's linen shirt.

His scent maddened Halsin. He pulled at the front of his trousers absentmindedly, trying to hide his own growing erection. He normally had more self-control than this - to be brought to half-hardness in the middle of public was unheard of. A shameful loss of control. He felt his face and ears flush, adding a tinge of red to his suntanned skin.

"I… do not know what has come over me," Halsin muttered, running his hand through his auburn locks. A lie. He did know… or the deeper, instinctual, beastial part of him did anyway. Halsin's knowing was not based off his centuries of life, and the subsequent knowledge he had of the movements of the celestial bodies around Faerun. Halsin knew the full moon was approaching, even deep in his unconscious mind, the deep, feral part of him that made the druid restless amongst the camp.

"I simply… can't abide the thought of anyone else touching you," he admitted after several additional minutes of quiet, when they finally had made it to the private room in the Elfsong they had rented for the evening. Astarion had been eyeing him up and down the whole time, his hand lazily dragging up and down Halsin's well-muscled forearm as they strolled side by side. Their room was on the bottom floor, conveniently close to the bar, but far enough down several twists of a hallway that nothing could be heard - and no one could hear them.

The solid oak door, salvaged from the original Elfsong after the Netherbrain attack, creaked as it was opened, revealing their far-more-superior-than-a-bedroll amenities for the evening. Heavy curtains hung on either side of several windows. Gauzy sheer curtains hung between them, allowing only the flicker of the city streetlamps to seep through. A settee, table, and a couple of chairs were arranged on one side of the room, and on the other side was a large four-poster bed, draped with burgundy velveteen bed linens and piled with pillows.

"Could it be something to do with the whole…" Astarion said as he turned to lock the door, then sauntered over to perch himself on the edge of the bed, "you know. Bear thing ?" The vampire accentuated his question with a wave of his delicate wrists, then mimed claws by curling his thin fingers.

Halsin raised his gaze to Astarion's ruby eyes. Gods, he was beautiful. Stunning. Inconceivably tempting. He was drawn to the little elf, and knelt on the floor before Astarion, his hands wrapping behind his calves. He could nearly touch his fingertips to his thumbs with the motion. His little vampire, his little bird; so vicious, Astarion could be, but also so delicate. Halsin felt possessiveness roil in his stomach as he thought again of the handsy vendor, and of anyone's hands touching his territory. His sigh had an edge to it, almost like a growl.

"That is precisely what worries me, my heart," Halsin said, his eyes not raising to meet Astarion's. He was face-level with his mate's crotch, and he felt his hands pull at Astarion's legs to part them, to give him easier access to the sweetness at the apex of his thighs he had been smelling the whole way to their room.

"Worries you?" Astarion asked with a little yelp at the sudden opening of his legs. He fell back onto his elbows on top of the velvet bedding and peered down at Halsin. "Darling, you worry too much. I know exactly what the problem is."

Halsin's face jerked upward as his hands slid up too, dipping into the waistline of Astarion's trousers and pulling downward. "What would that be," he asked, his voice low and deep.

"Well, to begin with, you haven't allowed yourself to finish in a week," the little elf said, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "That's enough to drive any man mad, let alone with the stress you've been under from this whole finding-your-inner-bear process." He raised his hips to allow Halsin to more easily remove his trousers, his back a delicate arch. Halsin wanted to pin the smaller man beneath him, to have that arch reversed, to press his hips so hard into Astarion's that there would be bruises for a week. His breath shuddered at the intrusive thought and he shook his head.

"It is too close to the full moon to allow myself to take you fully," Halsin explained, pressing his face against Astarion's panties. They were soaking wet, the pale lace stained darker where Astarion's slit pressed against the material. Halsin's erection throbbed against his pants, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind. "Last month. The full moon. I…"

Astarion couldn't answer at the moment, biting his lower lip at the sensation of Halsin's nose pressing softly against his swollen clit. He fought back a whimper as the druid dipped lower, his nose pulling from his clit and sliding down the gusset of his panties. Astarion's legs were lifted from the floor, and up, as Halsin rose from a kneel and pushed Astarion by his knees further onto the bed. He clambered onto the mattress after him, his tongue lapping sloppily at the apex of Astarion's thighs the entire time.

Halsin had always been one to ask for confirmation, verbally or otherwise before a change of position, before he made big moves. But the larger elf's tongue was too busy lolling about, dragging along Astarion's inner thighs where the lace met his milky skin. He settled in comfortably on the mattress, lying on his belly with his head framed by either of Astarion's thighs.

"You were fine ," Astarion whined, raising his hips, against the warmth, "And you will be fine tonight, too, if you'd stop thinking so bloody much." He ached to toss one of the pillows onto which he had been pushed. Maybe a gentle bonk would knock some sense into his lover. Astarion's confidence quaked, however, when Halsin's head pulled quickly away from his groin.

"Astarion… you cannot possibly know.." The druid shifted on the mattress, raising up on his elbows to make eye contact with the vampire.

"Know? Please , Halsin. You were fine last month, what's different now?" His voice was whiny, petulant.

Halsin paused, a rumble in his throat, both at Astarion's casual dismissal of his concern and at the desire to lap at the sweetness pooling between his legs. He slipped a finger past the lace, grazing slightly along the outside of Astarion's slick folds.

"Did you know that more babies are born on full moons? And that a myriad of spells and rituals must be performed when the moon is brightest?" Halsin explained, slipping a finger inside the smaller elf, who was so deliciously tight around even just one finger that it made his head spin. Halsin pressed his groin against the mattress, rolling his hips against it absentmindedly. "Do you truly believe that the moon, which influences even the ocean tides of Faerun, does not affect people as well? Last month, in that clearing, I felt…closer to the Bear than I ever have in my life."

He shifted again, crawling upwards along Astarion's torso, before pressing his body to his lover's. The coolness of Astarion's porcelain skin was a balm that Halsin ached for. A territory he ached to claim. If Astarion had to breathe, he would have struggled to do so underneath Halsin's thick body, so firmly did he press his lover into the goose feather-stuffed mattress. Halsin's bulk was fully spread across him, and Astarion could not have been more delighted at how the larger elf seemed to lose himself in the moment with him.

Despite his words, his hesitation, his concern… Halsin felt an instinctual pull to touch Astarion, to claim his body and mind with his touch, his tongue, his cock, that felt even more intense than normal. He couldn't have pulled his hand away from the vampire's cool wetness if he tried - and he was. Trying, that is. His biceps burned with the attempt to curl his hand upward and away, to prevent this delicious touch that was satisfying his most carnal cravings. Instead, Halsin's fingers curled inside his mate's cunt, stroking rhythmically against the spongy tissue inside that marked the spot that pleased his lover the most.

Astarion's legs quivered in response, shaking against Halsin's sides, a cooling effect as opposed to the heat emanating from the druid like a sun-warmed brick. The contrast made Halsin shiver, and he lifted up with a grunt, the haze of lust lifting only slightly from his mind, and fear nagging at the back of it instead. He bid his tongue to work, to function, so that he could speak his concerns audibly to the vampire. While he struggled for his words, his thumb swirled languidly around Astarion's clit. The pale elf's whimpering at the sensation demanded his attention - and also his pause.

"I cannot hurt you, my heart, and I…. I fear that I will lose control if I allow myself to indulge in your body while the moon is at its brightest," he finally said. He wasn't sure that Astarion was truly paying attention, by the way the vampire was writhing on the bedspread and pressing his hips into Halsin's thick fingers.

Astarion scoffed at the thought, his sharp nails scraping against the sheets of the bed, pulling the linens taut in his fist. "I am immortal darling, and heal quickly. Please, spare me the hero act," he tutted, raising himself up with one hand to sit at an incline. He brought his other hand to the bony part of Halsin's chin, curling his fingertips underneath, pulling his face forward. "If you don't take me here and now…" Astarion warned, his voice an octave lower and tinged with the rumble of a slight growl.

It was an empty threat, of course. The vampire would never seek satisfaction elsewhere, he was wholly satisfied with Halsin. But he knew how Halsin enjoyed being told what to do, how the druid hungered for direction after so many years of having to choose, to be in control, to set expectations. Halsin was also dreadfully territorial, and the threat of Astarion flitting away to satisfy himself with his own fingers alone was enough to send the druid into a fit, not quite a rage, but a fervor to thoroughly debauch and lay claim to what was rightfully his. To make Astarion his. And to make sure that he knew it.

The pale elf did not have to finish the sentence; Halsin's eyes flashed a golden glow only a second before he lunged forward, pressing his lips against Astarion's smirking mouth. Astarion found himself pinned once again to the mattress, Halsin's chest and groin pressed against his. The larger elf ground his hips against the vampire's damp panties, teasing the sensitive nub against the delicate lace. A pity, that it would probably get torn, but Astarion didn't care - he was too preoccupied with how Halsin's tongue teased apart his lips to explore his mouth. It was hot and dominating, as if the druid seeked to claim his mouth by touching every bit of his tongue in wide, searing, open-mouthed kisses. Astarion returned the passion with gusto, curling his fingers into Halsin's auburn locks, grabbing a fistful at the base of his skull.

But only for a moment - for a growl from Halsin startled him, it seemed different than his normal lovemaking noises. It was almost animalistic, rather than elven-made, and Astarion's grip loosened enough for the druid to grab his wrists in one large hand and pin them to the mattress above the pale elf's head. Astarion grinned mischievously as Halsin's face pulled from his, capturing his lower lip between his teeth, which seemed... sharper, somehow. As if Halsin had grown fangs like his own.

His deep ruby eyes squinted at Halsin's mouth, but he could not tell a difference in the candlelight of the rented room, especially when Halsin's head was moving lower, to press kisses - and bites? - along his slender frame. His mate was not normally a biter. He let it be Astarion’s habit, and yet the vampire felt his large, hot mouth open wide to mark his porcelain skin, his flesh sucked between Halsin's teeth and held firmly. Not too painfully, for Astarion had experienced much worse, but the bites were hard enough that the vampire was sure he'd have bruises for several weeks once they blossomed on his pale skin.

All Halsin could think of is how he wanted to mark his territory, to cover the pale canvas before him in purple and blue and red marks, using Astarion's flesh and blood as paint, to leave teeth marks on his skin like he had left claw marks on the bark of birches in his forest. Typically, he loathed the idea of leaving welts or bright red stripes from his nails. Astarion was a marble sculpture that Halsin's more conservative side hated to mar. With what little restraint he felt that he still had available to him, Halsin lowered himself instead, further down, trailing teeth and tongue along his lover's pale belly, lower still to the lace panties which seeped with Astarion's need.

Astarion's scent was intoxicating, like a she-bear in heat, and Halsin dove in, pressing his face against the fabric again, so firmly that it pushed his nose flat. He opened his mouth, his wide wet tongue leaving a searing stripe along Astarion's pussy lips even through the fabric. The movement pulled a pathetic mewl from the vampire, whose hands were shifted lower, pressed to his own chest as Halsin dove down into his cunt. Astarion’s fingers clenched, sharp nails digging into his palms. How he hated being held down. How he loved it. He could only gyrate his hips, raising them as much as he could, but not for long.

Halsin's other hand wrapped around Astarion's waist, and the druid growled in satisfaction. He relished in the size difference between himself and his mate, how he could touch his fingers when fully encircling the little vampire - especially when he pressed down, pinning Astarion’s lower half to the mattress as well. He groaned at the thought as he lapped his broad tongue at Astarion's lower lips through the lace.

"A mess," Halsin growled, again, deeply, in a more animalistic manner than he had ever previously, glancing upward from Astarion's needy cunt to make eye contact. Glowing golden met ruby red only long enough for Halsin to speak. "Such a sloppy, sweet boy for me. So needy, my heart… how badly do you ache to be filled by me?"

Astarion had no words in response to Halsin's, nor in response to the druid's actions. His lover enjoyed dirty talk, and was generous with his praise at all times, including in their bed, but this was on another level. Before he could process the words fully, the larger elf dove back down to Astarion's pussy and gathered the lace in his teeth. Halsin nodded downward, and his teeth - the druid's mind faintly realized they must be sharper than normal, tore the fabric with ease, leaving the vampire fully exposed. The remnants of the lacy fabric rolled upward, curling about the silk waistband.

Astarion was not one to be taken by surprise during their evenings (and mornings, and afternoons) of rolling about in the bedrolls, but Halsin had always been most careful with his belongings, including any delicate little thing that Astarion had purchased to wear for him. So, the snap of the fabric was accompanied by an audible gasp from the vampire.

Now that Astarion’s cunt was bared fully, Halsin paused for just a moment to take the sight in, to appreciate how beautiful his mate truly was. Astarion was stunning, his lips plump and pink from Halsin's attention, slick with both saliva and Astarion's wetness, his need . Halsin stroked a calloused finger between the folds, circling his clit lazily, but with intent, pulling a whine from Astarion's lips. Something within Halsin stirred, and he felt some of the stitches at the front of his trousers rip to accommodate his growing girth. He hadn't had that happen before, and looked down. Did the growth of the moon also mean now the growth of…? Halsin shook away the thought, that's not what he cared about at the moment.

Instead, he felt as though he was still starving, despite his face and chin being covered in the vampire's slick already, and he wanted to direct his attention solely on Astarion. He was so pitifully empty. He slipped a finger inside, then two, testing how needily Astarion's cunt gripped his fingers, then he withdrew them, licking his fingers while keeping his gaze trained on Astarion's eyes. The vampire's expression was full of surprise, his pupils blown out fully in a haze of arousal and need as he teetered on the edge of his pleasure. His alabaster skin shone with small beads of sweat from Halsin's teasing, and his hair had been mussed by being pressed into the silk pillows behind him.

Oakfather help him, Astarion was in a wretched state, so full of want, so ready to be fucked, to be bred. How Halsin couldn't wait to fill him to the brim, to press himself and his seed deep inside Astarion's womb. Had he been more conscious of his thoughts, he'd think it odd, for of course his seed was null when inside a vampire.

But you must , something within him spoke as he stroked at Astarion's outer folds with his thick fingers. The druid inhaled deeply, then broke eye contact to dive into them, slathering his tongue inside Astarion's slit like licking honey off the comb.

Halsin's nose pressed against Astarion's clit, and the pale elf's hips rose to press against the sensation. He curled his slender fingers in Halsin's auburn mane, pressing his head down, harder onto the throbbing bundle of nerves that ached for attention. He'd been eaten out by Halsin dozens, if not hundreds of times at this point, but had the druid's tongue ever slipped inside his pussy so deeply? With such a…curl to it? Almost as if it were prehensile, pressing against his G-spot relentlessly.

Astarion couldn't recall, but then again, he could barely think. Halsin's mouth was too much a distraction as it explored inside him, between his folds, and then to his clit, suckling on it as though it were a teat, the friction and speed making his head rush so much, almost too much. And yet, not enough either, because he was close to that moment of bliss in which the lines of pleasure and pain blurred and became most intoxicating when enjoyed together.

Halsin noticed how Astarion's nails dug into his scalp, how his legs wrapped around him and his heels dug into the druid's shoulder blades, pulling him close, trapping his head and mouth against the vampire's soaking, needy cunt. He couldn't hold back the growl that was forming deep in his belly, then his chest, and finally from his mouth, snarling like a bear that was being stung while lapping honey from the hive. But he dove incessantly, lifting Astarion's hips from the mattress and pulling them up, do his face, to bury his nose and lips and chin into his wetness. Astarion could only mewl pitifully in response. He gripped onto Halsin's head and shoulders with what little strength he had; his hands and legs shook with pleasure.

"H-Halsin!" Astarion said, his voice cracking, almost raspy, as the druid's practiced tongue and scorching mouth pulled him over the ledge... And into the orgasm which made stars burst behind his eyelids, his head spin, and wetness erupt from his cunt and drip down, over Halsin's chin, between Astarion's asscrack, soaking the bed beneath them. The vampire's arms and legs went nearly limp. He was held up only by Halsin's strength before having his lower body pressed to the mattress once more, Halsin's broad hand spanning his hips almost completely when spread wide, from thumb to pinky.

His vision was blurred as he stared at the ceiling dreamily, still riding the waves of bliss from his climax. Halsin's attentions this evening were intense, unforgiving, and almost…feral. The word came to Astarion's mind right as Halsin's face appeared above him. The druid crawled up, over the smaller elf's trembling body, to press his torso fully against Astarion's, shoulder to pelvis, and gaze down at his lover. His expression was almost unreadable, and tinged by something Astarion couldn't quite place. It pulled a memory from the back of his mind, back when they hadn't yet banished the shadow curse. Fear?

"Halsin?" He asked, abandoning his 'darling' pet name, the bliss of climax fading quickly in the literal face of fear he gazed into. Halsin's hair had fallen from his ponytail, his braids fluttering about his face.

"I… I need to stop. I cannot do this today. Not tonight," Halsin whispered hoarsely, pulling a hand upward to hold the side of Astarion's face, caressing the flushed tip of his pointed ear. "I keep… feeling wild urges. Almost as though I'm experiencing what bears do, their...seasons."

Astarion's ruby eyes grew wide with realization - it wasn't some noble, heroic act that Halsin was acting upon, no white-knight silliness that the vampire always viewed with derision. Halsin was genuinely concerned about how dangerous he might be with the 'full acceptance' of the bear, or however he had explained it. His need to mate and breed.

How thrilling . There was nothing that could get the little vampire going more quickly than a taste of danger, the thrill of the hunt. And the idea of his noble, gentle Halsin, losing himself to his monstrous side. Becoming as monstrous as vampires are. Astarion's loins tingled at the idea of his lover losing control - more specifically, losing control over him .

"I already explained darling, I'm immortal…" Astarion purred, leaning upward to press his lips against Halsin's, cool tongue begging for entrance. Their tongues met briefly, before Halsin pulled away, panting. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and Astarion could feel the press of his hardened cock - hells below, was it bigger than normal.. and what was that ... a knot against his slick-soaked cunt? "Breed me, Halsin," he whispered, pulling at the nape of Halsin's neck to lick along the sensitive ridge of his ear and further egg the druid on. "Breed me then, my love, knot me. Make me yours ." His words came out almost as a hiss, before he lapped at the tip of Halsin's ear. The larger elf groaned at both the sensation and his words, his erection grinding through his trousers against Astarion's pale skin.

"My heart… you… don't know what you're asking of me," Halsin panted, his voice low and gravelly. He pressed on the mattress to raise himself, unlace his trousers to free his pulsing erection. As his trousers slid down his well-muscled thighs and settled around his knees, Halsin's cock bobbed in the air. It was bigger than normal, shaped differently too… and a thick bulge at the base, near Halsin's balls. Astarion swore the druid had thicker body hair than normal, and traced the line of it with his eyes back over Halsin's torso, up to his neck, his face… where the druid's eyes glowed even a more fierce golden. His mouth was agape, and as he spoke, Astarion swore he saw elongated fangs poking out. "Once I enter you I will… not have control, Astarion," he explained, not breaking eye contact with the vampire, "I'll be ruthless. I'll ruin you."

Astarion's expression turned from curiosity, as his eyebrows raised and a sultry grin spread across it. His nimble hands reached down to grasp Halsin's cock - hells it was much bigger than normal - and brushed the sensitive tip against his slick folds. Halsin groaned with the sensation, his hips bucking in response, but kept his eyes locked to Astarion's.

"Then ruin me," replied the vampire in a husky voice, his words dripping with a tease, a taunt. It was a plea that came from the heart - Astarion ached to see this side of Halsin that was more like him , running on instinct, the basest level, the most animalistic and monstrous version he could get from Halsin save from a curse of vampirism or lycanthropy. And he wanted it all.

Halsin's eyes narrowed at his words, the hesitance in his expression fading instead to a feral focus as he slowly rolled his hips, thrusting into Astarion's hand, then past it, past the wet folds and inside the vampire. The pale elf moaned and lifted his hips, his eyes rolling upward momentarily at the stretch of Halsin's girth in his cunt. Halsin's breath escaped in a growl as he hunched over Astarion's form, his vampire's grin almost a taunt as he gazed up.

The stretch was delicious, Halsin was absolutely larger than normal, and so much warmer inside of him. The druid thrusts were tentative, as though he were testing the fit, or experiencing territory previously unexplored. It was too slow, too careful, too…. contemplative . That's not what Halsin's 'inner bear' or whatever was aching for, Astarion reckoned, and grinned to himself wider as he thought of how to truly have Halsin lose himself to his own need.

Astarion himself needed more , and nipped at Halsin's bottom lip, pricking it slightly while lapping inside the druid's mouth, seeking to deeply entwine himself with his lover. Halsin nearly snarled at pinch of his fangs, but in a way that didn't seem angry. It seemed more… primal. Astarion held back a pleasured scream as he felt the druid thrust himself into his pussy harder, deeper than he had previously. It was almost painful, the the head of the druid's thick cock pressing against his cervix, the walls of his pussy, slipping all the way out, brushing his lips, before quickly slamming back in.

Astarion fought the urge to crawl away, to escape the relentless press against his insides, the ache that hurt so deliciously, the stretch that stung to accommodate Halsin's girth. His hands were free now, and he grasped at the velveteen covers and the pillows as a way to not float away in pleasure, to remain somewhat grounded to this realm, to this experience. But a stronger means of keeping the vampire grounded appeared around his body - Halsin's large hands grasped at his hips, holding the vampire in place. Halsin's mouth curled into a snarl as he rutted into the tightness, his grunts of effort more like growls. Astarion's gaze flitted downward, at Halsin's firm grip, and in the fog of desire he noted briefly how Halsin's nails were longer, sharper. Halsin seemed to have grown claws of his own. The vampire's grin grew wider, his teeth grit together in satisfaction and lust.

"That's it love," he panted, his words ending on a high-pitched moan. Astarion wrapped his legs around Halsin's hips, digging his heels into the small of the druid's back.

It suited Halsin just fine, for he wanted nothing more than to be made one with Astarion. For the vampire to be made his . More than just lust whirled through Halsin's mind as he slammed into Astarion's cunt. The desire to fill him, make the vampire heavy with his seed, and then his cubs, to continue his lineage. To breed.

"Astarion… you…" Halsin's words coming between his thrusts. The druid wrapped one arm around the vampire's lower back, lifting his lithe body up to his own bulk. Halsin’s other arm slid upwards and pressed onto the mattress, holding him up to not crush Astarion fully.

"Yes, darling, yes ," Astarion replied, egging him on, his slender fingers skittering up Halsin's chest, to grip onto his thick muscles. His claws dug in to keep the druid close. The pinpricks of blood drawn by his claws dribbled down Halsin's chest, and Astarion's eyes flashed with a different type of hunger. The druid bared his teeth at the sensation, his face hovering only inches from Astarion's. The vampire's eyes widened, as did his grin. He did have fangs…

"You are.. going to come for me," Halsin growled, his hips moving more slowly, agonizingly slowly, the broad head of his cock pulling all the way out, pressing against Astarion's pussy lips, slick with wet, swollen with desire, and oh-so-sensitive. Astarion was in no place to argue, the sensation almost too much, nearly taking him to the edge then and there as the flare of Halsin's cock. His eyes closed, his pale white eyelashes fluttering against his reddened cheeks. Astarion was stunning, captivating, one of a kind. And his .

"And after you do," Halsin continued, "I am going to fill you up with so much of my seed that it will drip down your thighs for days." He continued rolling his hips lazily, immersing his cock deeply into Astarion’s body, grinding the front of his pelvis against his lover’s clit. The vampire could only writhe beneath Halsin, under the muscle and bulk of the druid. It delighted him to be in such a place, to be chosen and cherished and…

"You are going to be bred like a bitch in heat, Astarion," Halsin huffed, his voice a rumbling growl as his mouth pressed firm bites on the vampire's pale porcelain neck. Astarion could only whimper in response, especially as the druid's mouth traveled over his old bite scar. Halsin's fangs slotted neatly into the old scarred divots, and he bit down hard, tasting a faint hint of copper as small droplets came to the surface. Astarion's eyes shot open and he gasped in shock, his breath coming out in a loud whimper, his throat vibrating in Halsin's mouth. The pressure of the bite was more of a surprise than the pain, and the blood drawn by the druid's fangs was miniscule at best, nothing like he had experienced before he became what he was. They fluttered closed again, his head tilting backwards, his silver curls falling about on the pillows and velveteen blanket under him.

But the most surprising of everything was Halsin's words , and Astarion's head spun with the idea of being claimed, being made Halsin's mate. His breath hitched and he keened with each thrust of the druid's thick cock inside him, the thought of being filled with Halsin's seed and then.. eventually…His thoughts were spinning about in his head, his previously-unconsidered-until-today desire for this.. this breeding , this claiming, driving him into more of a frenzy than he thought previously possible.

" Yesss ," Astarion hissed in pleasure as his cunt was filled once again with Halsin's cock. "Yes, darling," he keened, his legs tightening around Halsin's hips, which seemed to be more of a stretch than it had been just minutes ago. And… hairier?

His eyes opened to a view which he could not have predicted, even with Halsin's forewarnings, muttered concerns and resistance. The moonlight filtered through the window panes, casting a pale white glow on his lover Halsin, who.. didn't look like Halsin. Not anymore.

The druid wasn't elven. He wasn't human. He was - something else - Astarion's grin returned to his face as he made eye contact with this bestial being above him - one whose eyes glowed golden much like Halsin's. And while there was also the scent of animal, slightly musky, it still smelled like Halsin, of fresh basil and honey. But the beast above him had a muzzle, and a wet black nose, and a maw full of sharp teeth the size of steak knives. The fur along the right side of his face had a swirled pattern, with four scars borne across the left side of its face.

A bear. A bear standing on his haunches, but not a true bear like found in the forest. It reminded him of a gnoll, but in a bear's skin. Its paws were more like humanoid hands, black thick claws at the fingertips pressing into Astarion's tender skin. Its shoulders were broad, and it stood upright like goblinkin and gnolls. And its cock - hells below - its cock was so thick, hotter now than just before Astarion had closed his eyes. And then it spoke.

"You're going to give me a whole litter of cubs, Astarion," he spoke, in Halsin's voice - but deeper, a bit more gravelly, rougher at the edges.

Halsin was one with the Bear. Astarion gasped, relishing with delight at not being the most monstrous partner of the pairing - for once.

" Darling ," moaned Astarion, for that was the only word he could speak at the revelation, his realization that Halsin was a werebear, and had shifted as the moonlight had made contact with his skin.

Halsin's balls ached for release each time it pressed against Astarion's ass with each thrust. But Halsin held back. He needed to wait. He needed to -

"Knot - '' the vampire moaned as Halsin thrust in particularly deeply, and Astarion felt the pressure of the bulge at the base of the werebear's cock. " Knot me , Halsin, please ." His begging was pitiful, uncharacteristic of the vampire. And Halsin, in this werebear form, could not resist the instinctual call to claim his mate. Especially when his mate was begging for it, in both his words and his wetness. Halsin's cock throbbed with need, with each thrust into Astarion's cunt getting him closer to claiming his mate. Halsin's furry balls slapped against Astarion's cool flesh, then pressed firmly at first, against the resistance of Astarion's pussy.

He needed to calm his mate, to soothe him, and Halsin pressed his wet nose against Astarion's ear. His long, hot tongue lolled out of his maw to lap at the edge of the vampire's pointed ear. It curled about the tip, stroking it steadily, matching the thrusts of Halsin's hips into Astarion. The vampire's pleasure came out in breathy moans as he leaned his head into the sensation, and as his pelvis rose to meet the hairy hips of his werebear mate.

The tongue unfurled from around his ear, and the druid growled his words beside Astarion's head. "You're going to look beautiful with a belly full of my cubs, Astarion," Halsin rumbled, his snout wrinkling as he bared his teeth in pleasure. Halsin's assertion was all Astarion needed to relax, to give in, to allow himself to experience the waves of climax that he had been hungering for.

The vampire keened with satisfaction, dragging his nails across the werebear's furry chest. Astarion's cunt spasmed with his orgasm, with pleasure, and then relaxed - and the werebear took his chance slamming further into Astarion’s cunt.. The vampire screamed in both pleasure and pain at the delicious stretch of Halsin's knot pressing against his insides, filling him completely. The druid's cock pushed against his cervix, fully against every pleasure point inside the vampire, and Astarion could only continue his silent scream of satisfaction as his cunt was filled to the brim and stretched to nearly tearing.

But he didn't care, it didn't matter, all that mattered was being filled by his love, by his mate, being claimed by the heat that coated his insides as Halsin reached climax right after him, his thick bear cock twitching as he came inside of Astarion. Halsin roared in satisfaction, his erection still pulsing. His seed poured past his knot, dripping more spend onto the sheets that were already ruined by the claws on his hind feet that had been tearing at them.

Both men's breaths came in panting huffs, and Astarion had closed his eyes again as he climaxed. He held Halsin in place with his legs, forbidding the druid from pulling out of him, and noticed that he had to soon squeeze tighter... and that the body he had encircled with them was markedly less hairy.

"My heart," Halsin said, his voice less of a growl, "my mate."

Astarion's eyes fluttered open, to look upward at Halsin, now back in his elven form, his eyes flashing golden still in the pale moonlight. Astarion smiled at him, at the mess they both were - sweat and blood and cum-slicked all over, the ruined bedcover beneath them. And at the knowledge that he could never doubt his druid's devotion to him.

"My sweet bear," drawled Astarion, pulling Halsin in for a lazy, gentle kiss as they lay intertwined, "You know…I've never minded being caressed by claws..."

#bg3bigbang2024 #astarion #bloodbear #halstarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #ursa minor #bloodhoney #oakblood #astarion x halsin #halsin romance #halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x astarion #halsin/astarion

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kumkaniudaku · 23 days ago

Text

Love Language

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn some tough lessons about love languages and communication.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None

Despite carrying a hard exterior outside of their humble abode, Terrence Richmond was a lover above all else.

If you asked his parents, they’d recall how affectionate he was as a boy and how he clung to his paternal grandmother for extra hugs and kisses when she was in town. Previous partners might be confused by any assertion that he was overly affectionate. Many hadn’t been fortunate enough to penetrate his tough-to-crack heart and experience the full extent of his tender side.

Patrice was a rarity. She’d been privy to his propensity for a lingering touch or a platonic cuddle since they were teens with raging hormones and secret feelings. But, now that they had grown older and much more romantically entangled, she’d found that what she thought was a ruse to induce sex was really his default setting.

He was born from love and carried every ounce of it in his body at all times. His desire to touch, feel, inhale, and embrace was always his priority.

Keeping a hand on Patrice’s thigh while he scrolled through news headlines on his phone brought him peace. Rubbing her feet while they enjoyed a show on the couch at night was his favorite way to say I love you. Cuddling next to her before bed helped him communicate that he finally felt safe. Kisses came in abundance at no cost. Tight hugs were a no-brainer. He was her shadow. If given the option, he would gladly make a home inside her skin if it meant he’d never have to leave her side.

For the most part, she loved being showered with attention. But for a woman who was fiercely independent and easily over-stimulated, his constant displays of affection and need to be in her orbit at all times were immensely overwhelming.

While he cozied up in the loving arms of the sandman, Patrice let the steady pelt of warm water against her back lull her into a fantasy of solitude in the park with a good book and a breeze tickling her nose. Soft light filtered through the small window above the primary bathroom’s shower, painting her deep dark skin with warm rays as she scrubbed away the previous night and prepared for a clean break.

If she were lucky, she could be halfway dressed by the time Terry’s alarm trilled in the next room to wake him for his weekend run. He’d be too caught off guard to stop her from leaving and her covert mission would be a success.

Unfortunately, he had an internal Patrice tracker that never allowed her to move more than 20 feet without his knowledge. She could hear the bed creak under his shifting weight on the other side of the door. His morning stretch came with a loud groan and the call of her name.

“Treece, you up?”

A vexed ‘duh’ came to her mind first but she shook the thought free. He didn’t deserve her attitude, even if he was the underlying cause. Instead, she called back with a simple, “Yeah. In the shower.”

Patrice listened to Terry’s heavy feet beat against the floor on his journey to the bathroom. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage as he pushed open the door. His routine stop to pull back the curtain and make his presence known was inevitable, but she was struggling to muster excitement for his sweet smile and subsequent flurry of kisses.

As expected, cool bathroom air mixed with the shower steam once a large hand pulled back her safe space’s partition and immediately reached to pull her as close as he could.

“Good morning,” he greeted between quick pecks on both cheeks before landing a few on her lips. “Why you up so early?”

“I, uh, thought I started my period so I came to check.”

A lie. She couldn’t explain that she needed a few uninterrupted minutes alone to feel like herself again or that she’d been doing so a lot more frequently than he’d noticed.

Terry mentally cycled through the day’s date and compared it to what he knew of her tracker. “It’s early. Is that from last night? If so, my bad.”

“Shit happens. Don’t worry about it too much. False alarm anyway.”

“Mm, good to know. Gimme another kiss.”

Terry’s words became a deep, sultry mumble against Patrice’s mouth as he lavished her with little monuments of his love. Most would see his display as a sure invitation to take their innocent encounter to another level. Terry wouldn’t be opposed, but he truly only meant to communicate how happy he was to be in his future wife’s presence. And, though he intended no harm, Patrice could feel her skin start to burn from too much attention.

The tickle of his growing facial hair against her jaw made her squirm to get out of his grasp.

“TJ, you’re making it cold in here,” she whined, attempting to push him away gently.

Terry chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby. You want me to get in?”

“No, no, no, no.” Her repeated refusal made him pull back in confusion. A hint of sadness in his gaze made Patrice rush to correct herself. “I just need a moment alone. By myself. Please.”

She watched a host of emotions paint Terry’s face until he settled on feigned indifference and stepped back. She chewed her lip, nervously waiting for him to respond.

“Oh. Okay, cool. I’ll um…I’ll give you some space then?”

“Thank you, honey. I’m almost done.”

“Mhm.”

Her attempt at sweetening her rejection with his favorite pet name proved unsuccessful as she watched him gather items to get ready in the guest bathroom. He was dejected and feeling the sting of her unrequited affection.

Hurting him hurt Patrice even more, bringing forth the sting of fresh tears and a heavy heart.

Fearing what might happen if she allowed his emotions to affect her own, she focused her attention on self-care and coaching herself through the bomb she’d eventually have to drop.

Terry kept his word and remained out of sight while Patrice readied herself in their shared bedroom. When she stepped into the living room fully dressed and especially made up, eyed her from the kitchen with his brow lifted with a mix of admiration and subtle bewilderment.

She put on her best kind smile and met him at the counter.

“Babe, Mrs. Wright next door was wondering if you could help her change the bulbs on her front and back porch. Today’s probably a good day, right,” she asked, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Uh, yeah. I guess I can get to it later.” He cocked his head to the side and quickly followed up. “Should I be skipping my run or what?”

“Nope. Think I’m just gonna grab brunch and browse that cute little bookstore downtown. I’ll keep you posted.”

“You? Alone?”

“Yep. All by myself.” Her Celine Dion impersonation did little to add levity to their back and forth.

Terry stared at her blankly before dragging a hand down his face to reset. “Say, do we have a problem, baby? Did I do something to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Patrice, stop playin’ with me. You know what I mean. Why you actin’ like we just met or some shit?”

“I’m not!”

“Let me kiss you then!” When she didn’t move to meet him halfway, he threw his hands up in exasperation. “See!”

Patrice took note of how his frustrated tone contrasted the sadness shifting his eyes to the grey-blue end of the spectrum. His lips were turned down into a bit of a pout as he looked down at her, awaiting an explanation for her sudden change of heart.

She sighed and reached up to cup his face. “We’re good, Terry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So, what’s up? Talk to me.”

He was pleading for any insight into her sudden distance, nearly willing to block the door until she opened up. Her will to persevere for her own sake was waning. She had to create some distance quickly before she found herself waiting for him to shower and shave in preparation for yet another weekend together.

“Can we talk when I get back home? It’ll only be a couple of hours. I’ll keep you updated, and send you my location. Whatever you need to feel secure. Cool?”

Sensing that he was being ouster no matter what he did, Terry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before relenting.

“Alright,” he whispered as if he were coming to terms with grave news. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.”

Never a man for drawn-out monologues or poetic language, Terry remained silent as he grabbed his wallet from the counter and handed over his credit card for Patrice to use at her leisure.

“You don’t have to do that.” His eyes flickered up to hers for a silent but firm reprimand. He wasn’t budging and she wasn’t interested in widening the rift between them.

Patrice accepted his unspoken financial protection and his very vocal reminder to answer when he called before venturing out into the world as one-half of a pair for the first time in months.

Her re-acclimation to solitude was slow. At least twice during her flea market excursion, she found herself preparing to turn to Terry and point out a painting or cute trinket that she wanted to bring home. Usually, he’d listen to her go on and on about some random piece’s beauty and try to convince him why it deserved a spot on the bookshelf. And every time he’d look on with a loving grin and accept her pitch without contest. Now, all she had was the little voice in the back of her head saying that she deserved at least one treat for show and tell.

An early lunch at her favorite cafe was easier to enjoy. She people-watched for way too long outside on the patio, admiring outfits, hairstyles, and cute dogs while she sipped warm cider and read the romance novel she hadn’t had time to dive into. Each word created such vivid imagery in her head and she was giddy at the thought of sharing info from chapters four and five with Terry for his opinion.

At the mall, she pursued racks of clothes and shelves of shoes at an excruciatingly slow pace because she could. She tried on dresses and analyzed her feet in every pair of heels that tickled her fancy until she settled on something that expertly showed off the definition she’d gained in her thighs and quads.

By the time Patrice noticed the sun beginning to settle behind the horizon, she was exhausted yet excited to get back home and share her adventures with her man. Her car could barely settle in park before she was bounding from the front seat, up the front steps, and into the living room with a bright smile deepening the dimples in her cheeks and Terry’s favorite dinner for them to enjoy together.

He watched from the recliner as she nearly skipped into the room, sitting up a little straighter when she stopped in the middle of the room waiting for his attention.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome back.”

Patrice’s smile faltered at his flat reception. She attempted to recover. “Right. Um, did you eat yet? I picked up food from that BBQ pit you love. I made them cook the pulled chicken fresh and grabbed some extra sauce.”

“I ate a little earlier but I’ll get to it. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll just put it on the stove?”

“Sure.”

Gobsmacked. Speechless. Patrice rocked back and forth on her heels, stumped for words while Terry shifted his attention back to the re-run of Star Trek on the television.

Her ego was bruised. Shattered and slightly embarrassed, she scurried into the kitchen to lick her wounds but not before Terry caught the beginnings of tears shining in her eyes. Making her cry wasn’t in his cards. He’d only planned to make her sweat a little before opening the floor for a much-needed conversation. But he couldn’t stomach the bit any longer.

He listened to her slide food containers into the oven before she attempted to rush past him with the rest of her bags and hide in the bedroom.

“Treecey,” he called as he used the remote to shut off the television. Patrice stopped in her tracks and turned to face him with a look forlorn that it shocked him. He held out his hand and beckoned for her presence. “Come here. Come sit with me.”

She obliged, dropping her things on the ground to perch on the arm of his chair. He took a risk and interlaced his fingers with her to bring the back of her hand up to his mouth for a few quick kisses. Patrice welcomed his affection with a quiet sign as she settled into her spot.

“You ready to talk,” he asked, lips pressed to her forearm while looking up at her with soft eyes.

“Can I start?”

“Floor is yours.”

Patrice sniffled to contain her emotions before starting.

“This whole thing is new to me. I’ve never made it this far with a man and I damn sure haven’t lived with one. So, I’m sorry if I don’t get it right all the time. Two years is a long time to get used to being alone and, I guess I haven’t quite figured out how to be present for you and be present for myself. Sometimes, I just need a break, T. I need to recalibrate and enjoy the world on my own. I need time to miss you.”

“I’m not giving you a lot of that, huh?”

“I’m not giving myself a lot of that,” she asserted, shifting the blame. “You’re not responsible for me communicating my needs. But you’re so cute and I never wanna hurt your feelings. Which I guess I messed up this morning. I’m sorry.”

Terry released a quiet laugh. “You think I’m cute?”

“That’s what you got from all that? I’m pouring my heart out right now!”

“I’m joking! C’mon.”

Before Patrice could go back into her metaphorical shell, he gently tugged her into his lap to cradle her like a baby. He rocked them back and forth for a few seconds and brushed the pad of his thumb across her tear-stained cheek. She closed her eyes to listen to his heartbeat.

“You did hurt my feelings,” he admitted. “I appreciate the apology and I forgive you. I’m sorry for cramping your space so often. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to feel how much I love you. I guess I never considered that I can’t make up for lost time by holding you hostage in this house.”

“I’m not gonna run away. I promise.”

Patrice pulled him closer to her face by the back of his head, intensifying their eye contact.

Terry tightened his grip on her outer thigh and left the ghost of a kiss on her lips. “I know. Tell me when you need a break and it’s yours.”

“And you tell me if I’m being an asshole. Don’t let me run all over you. Unless you like that.”

“I kinda do but we should find out. This is our first disagreement, so I’m not sure, but I think this is the part where we have makeup sex.”

“That sounds good.”

Patrice had long dissolved into a pool of desire. Every motion of his lips and warm hands keeping her in place with no effort had her attention in like a crystal ball. She’d done the best he could to contain herself, but her resolve was dwindling.

Terry gave her a moment to lead an intimate kiss, appreciating being on the receiving end for the first time in almost a day. When it felt like she was pushing things past what their warn recliner could handle, he separated them.

“Whaaaat,” Patrice whined as she threw a childing tantrum in his arms.

“Let me hear about your day first. I missed you. Tell me everything.”

His request caught her off guard but delighted her in equal measure. Patrice felt the butterflies in her stomach go into a tizzy at the way Terry looked at her, eagerly awaiting the full scoop.

“Well, I went to my spot today to try the apple cider donuts.”

“Yeah? Did you like it?”

“Oh my God, yes. It was perfect. I got you one of those, too. Oh, I gotta tell you about my book! The last chapter was insane.”

One question had turned Patrice into a yapper as she spilled the beans on every minute detail she could remember. Terry listened to her winding recollection of the day with intense focus, offering commentary where conversation allowed to mix with lingering smooches along her jaw.

Eventually, they’d be intertwined and sharing the same breath with a singular goal in mind. For now, though, they’d happily bask in the mundanity of life together on the way to forever.

----

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#terry richmond #rebel ridge #aaron pierre #terry richmond x oc

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rememberwren · 2 months ago

Text

A Dichotomy of Thought || 10

Prior and future chapters here.

A visitor in the park.

CW: domestic violence, rape, ableist language, homophobic slurs (f-word), internalized ableism, suicidal ideation, mention of burning.

It seems cruel that such terrible things must happen at moments when you are your happiest. There’s logic in it, sure—there can be no joy without pain, and happiness is bracketed on either side by sadness—but logic and cruelty don’t have to live apart from each other. In fact, you would often say they are married.

Your boyfriend stands over you, blotting out the sun like a raincloud come to pour down on the briefest moment of peace you have felt in the last several days. Everything about him is innocuous: his clothes, his posture, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stares down at you with unspeakable fondness in his eyes.

“Hi honey,” he says. “How was work?”

Johnny goes to stand, but your boyfriend is quicker, banging his shin violently against Johnny’s knee. Johnny sucks in a breath as the pain winds him, body bowing over to protect his most vulnerable areas.

“Don’t stand on my account,” your boyfriend says to his crumpled figure. “Did I get the right knee? I did, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure if it was the right or the left—“

“Hey!” you bellow, the volume of your own voice surprising you. You stand between them, put both hands against your boyfriend’s chest, and push. He nearly goes sprawling on the sidewalk, only barely managing to get his feet under him in time. You point a shaking finger in his face. “You don’t fucking touch him!”

“An accident,” he laughs, lifting his hands. “I stumbled into him. It could have happened to anybody.”

“Yer a fucking cunt,” Johnny groans, both hands gripping his thigh above his knee, knuckles pale. “And so’s yer mother. Syphilis-infected-cocksucking bitch.”

“Not nice,” your boyfriend says mildly, shoving his hands back into his pocket. “Do you kiss my fiancé with that mouth?”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you hiss. All three of you quiet down as an older couple inches by, hand in weathered hand. When they are a safe distance away, you ask: “How did you know I was here? Were you following me?”

“I can’t reveal all my secrets,” he says, lowering his voice to a dangerous timber, one that promises violence. “The same way you’re not willing to give up all of yours. You thought I wouldn’t notice you coming home late all the time? Do I look stupid?”

Johnny makes a sound, some kind of wounded laugh that only serves to put you on edge even more. You can imagine his answer—but he doesn’t know your boyfriend. He doesn’t know the kind of grim, intelligent cruelty that is wielded against you every day. Johnny is hot headed and craving violence, but he’s in no condition to experience it.

You have to protect him.

“We can talk about it at home,” you mutter, making sure to keep between the two men who seem eager for each other’s blood. Your boyfriend tongues his cheek, eyeing Johnny, weighing his options.

“Come on,” you say, louder. Reaching out, you grip his arm, nails digging into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch. But after an endless moment of waiting for further provocation from Johnny, he decides Johnny isn’t worth his time. He laces his fingers in yours and pulls you along, further away from the bench, from Johnny, from the sunlight.

“Get in the car,” he says, walking to the driver’s side.

“You’re not supposed to drive.”

“I won’t say it again.”

He won’t, either. You know him. So instead you slip into the passenger seat. There’s no worse feeling than being in an enclosed space with him. The air feels heavy and oppressive, weighing you down. At the same time, your body buzzes with adrenalin, preparing for pain. You numbly buckle your seatbelt while he starts the car.

“How long have you been cheating on me with that cripple next door?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not.”

The calm snaps, nothing but a thin sheet of icy veneer over a deep, dark lake of fury.

“Don’t—lie—to—me,” he says through his teeth. He holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers. “Phone. Hand it over. You’ve lost your privileges.”

“I don’t have it,” you lie. “It’s at work.”

“You really do,” he says, staring at you with borderline awe. “You think I’m a fucking idiot, don’t you? Oh, baby. Oh, honey. You’re in for it. How do you think I fucking found you? Give me the goddamn phone.”

You shake your head. You can’t give it up. Not when it’s the only safe way for Simon to contact you.

He reaches for your hand. The two of you struggle as you try to avoid his touch, briefly banging your knuckles on the car window, but then he has your hand in his grasp, and he takes your smallest finger and wrenches it back, back—you feel the pop, pain lancing through your hand all the way to your wrist.

You screech.

“Give me the phone,” he says, letting you cradle the misshapen hand against your breast. You grit your teeth, tears dripping off your chin. When he reaches for your hand again, you break and turn out your pockets, handing over your last lifeline. He takes the phone and beats it against the dashboard, again and again and again until the screen is a spider’s web of cracks, glass littering your knees.

He hands you back the broken phone.

“You broke my fucking finger,” you cry, voice warbling embarrassingly.

“You broke your own finger by not listening to me the first time,” he says, tossing the phone in your lap when you don’t take it. He puts the car in reverse. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes, baby.”

The two of you spend five hours in the emergency room together. This is an integral part of the experience; when he hurts you, he has to heal you.

Your pinky isn’t broken, only dislocated. They set it and splint it and warn you that it could take months to feel normal again, like you know at all what that word means. Beneath the tinny lights of the exam room, your makeup job must be failing, because the nurse asks your boyfriend to step out so that she can ask you a few questions alone.

This isn’t your first time in the emergency room, and you know the rules. You stick to your story (the one he had stitched together on the drive to the ER) even without your boyfriend’s oppressive presence looming over your shoulder. The nurse gives you a look that is both professional and pitying. You spend the rest of the visit refusing to meet her eyes, chewing on the nails of your good hand.

“Could you be any more suspicious?” your boyfriend asks mildly while the two of you leave. He waves to one of the nurses, who gives back a cheerful little salute.

Making friends wherever he goes; that’s your boyfriend.

Walking into your apartment is like walking into another world.

Everything has been upended: the couch cushions, the silverware drawers, the chairs at the table. DVD’s have been removed from their boxes. Even the fucking lamps have had their lampshades removed. The bathroom and bedroom doors have been taken off their hinges and laid neatly against one another in the bedroom.

“You weren’t the only one busy today,” he says, relishing in your grim expression. “You know the drill. Clean up. Then we’ll go to bed.”

This is an old trick of his that you know well. He tore the place apart searching for contraband—but he knows that even he isn’t all-powerful. Now he waits to see where you will rush to clean up first, where your anxious mind will take you, desperate to find out if he’s found whatever you’ve been hiding. Once it was money. Another time, a business card for a lawyer.

This time, a lighter that’s not your own.

You’re smarter now, though. You don’t go straight for your sock drawer where the lighter is hidden. You begin at the northernmost point of the apartment and clean north to south, east to west, methodical, your hand throbbing as the anesthetic wears off.

It is deeply late by the time you make it to the bedroom to find your clothes strewn across the bed. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, body aching from a long day at work (and a longer day after work). You can’t help but think of Johnny as you clean, tucking clothes back into their drawers, putting clothes back on their hangers. Did he make it home safely? Did he finally message Simon? Did he try to walk home? Thinking about Johnny out alone in the dark makes your stomach turn unpleasantly.

Sock drawer now. Most of these are still in the dresser, though some have been pushed out into the floor in your boyfriend’s search for ammunition to use against you. You pick up the few outliers and stuff them back into the drawer.

No lighter.

It’s not there. You know even as you continue to search without hope, rifling through your paired socks as subtly as you can. This is all just another game. He’s found the lighter and has just been waiting for you to notice it’s gone so that he can torment you with it. Maybe he’ll flick the spark wheel (the way Johnny can’t—God, Johnny, please be okay—) and hold the flame to your skin or your hair—

You touch something hard, plastic. Your breath catches. It’s there. It’s still there, tucked inside a pair of socks. He hadn’t found it. Relief rises up in you so poignantly that tears fill your eyes, even as you force yourself to shut the drawer and move on to another part of the room, feeling your boyfriend’s presence at the door, watching.

The lighter was so little, but it meant so much. You couldn’t even put into words why. Because it was Johnny’s, maybe. Because it was yours, now. Because it was one thing your boyfriend hadn’t put his hands on and destroyed or claimed as his own. Nothing belonged to you—not your money, not your body, nothing. Except maybe that silly lighter.

You wait until after he fucks you to speak, stubbornly maintaining your silence even through the pain and humiliation he inflicts on you. There’s something even worse about the way he draws your body against his afterwards, an arm looped possessively over your waist, the imitation of a loving cuddle.

“I want to break up,” you say.

He gives a long-suffering sigh, breath rustling your hair. “Keep dreaming, baby.”

The words won’t stop tripping out of your mouth.

“I mean it. I hate you—and you hate me. All we do is fight and hurt each other. Why…” you get choked up, swallow past the lump in your throat. “We don’t have to do this anymore. You can’t possibly be happy. Is this really how you want to live the rest of your life? Tormenting me?”

He is quiet for longer than you expect. You hold your breath, tears dripping from your eyes and over the bridge of your nose, down into your pillowcase. Maybe he’s thinking about it. Maybe he’s really considering it.

At last, he says: “Don’t ever think that there’s anywhere else in the world…anything else I’d rather be, than right where I am.”

Your heart plummets.

“Now go to sleep,” he says, kissing your neck. “You work in the morning.”

The sun goes down before Simon finds him. Johnny sits shivering on the bench where you left him, his eyes red rimmed and unseeing even when he hears the familiar footsteps of his lover against the pavement.

Simon sits next to him where you once sat, and for a long time, neither of them speaks. When Johnny finally breaks the silence, his voice is rough from hours of crying and disuse.

“I brought her here,” he says.

Simon nods. He knows. Of course he knows.

“I think she liked it,” Johnny adds, trying to find any brightness in the dark that encompasses him.

But all at once the tears come back, his throat burning, head throbbing. He bends at the waist, elbow on his thigh, and shakes, trying to keep his crying quiet, still clinging to the remnants of a dignity that God tears more from his grasp every day. When Simon’s warm arm wraps around him, it just makes him cry harder, even as he leans into the heat of the other man like a flower bends toward the sun.

“I’m useless,” Johnny weeps. “Fuckin’ useless. He showed up and just—took her, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Even you think I’m useless—druggin’ me to keep me from getting in your way. I can’t dress myself, can’t tie my own shoes. What fucking good am I, as a human being? What’s the good in being alive if I have to live like this?”

Simon says nothing. Johnny leans up, letting the moonlight wash over his tear-soaked face. He wipes at his cheeks.

“You can’t be happy, either,” he says, taking in the solemn lines of Simon’s face, the shadows under his eyes. Simon looks older than his age, and Johnny knows who is responsible, who has aged him. Terrified to know the answer, he asks: “Is this how you want to live? With an overgrown child as your lover? One who can’t remember where he took off his shoes? Who needs you to, to cut up his food and button his shirts?”

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” says Simon simply. “If that’s how I get to be with you. Then yeah, Johnny. I’m solid.”

Johnny shakes his head. He can’t even find the energy within him to be angry. All that’s left is disbelief. “You can’t mean that.”

“I mean it. I—“ Simon ducks his head. “—I never should have put those pills in your juice. I should have trusted you. I wish I could take that back.”

Johnny sniffs wetly. It’s as close to an apology as he’s ever heard Simon give, and it makes no small amount of guilt bloom in Johnny’s aching chest.

“You were right not to trust me,” says Johnny. “I was lying.”

“I know,” says Simon. He reaches down and laces his fingers with Johnny’s one hand. “But I want to be a man who trusts you, even if I’m wrong.”

Johnny is quiet for a long time, turning those words over in his head. A painful longing rises up in his chest, one he hasn’t felt since the days when he was still in the 141, days when he could barely breathe for wanting the man beside him so badly. When they’d had to love each other in secret, and it felt like he would happily have given anything if it meant they didn’t have to hide anymore.

I miss you, he thinks. I miss myself. Leaning in, he lays his cheek against Simon’s shoulder.

“Are we gonna make it?” he wonders quietly, watching the last of the fireflies twinkle around the dim park. Soon it will be too cold for them. Soon it will be too cold for Johnny.

“Whatever we do, we’ll do it together,” Simon promises, laying his temple against Johnny’s head.

He waits until you are asleep to creep out of the bed. There is no rest for him—not when he gets in these restless, paranoid moods. Not when he has a hunch to follow.

Quietly, he drifts through the apartment like a ghost. Everything is back in its place, but he tries to think of anywhere he might have missed to search. You are hiding something; he knows it. He knows you. You’re see-through to him, predictable in a way that used to thrill him but now just irritates.

“Where is it?” he mutters, standing in the living room, turning a slow circle.

Was the lighter really all you’d been hiding? That stupid piece of plastic and metal? He’d found it easily and decided it served him better left in its place. Let you think that he had missed it. Let you think that he was slipping.

“I’m sharper than ever, baby,” he mutters to himself in the darkness.

Halfheartedly, he searches a few places that he had already gone through: checking some of the mugs on the top shelf in the kitchen, feeling beneath the table in the foyer for anything taped beneath it.

He thinks about the cripple next door while he does it. Johnny. A problem, if he’s ever seen one. Him and his boyfriend both. What two faggots want with you, he can’t imagine—good Samaritans, perhaps? Well they would find out in good time what happened to people who put their noses where they didn’t belong.

Regardless, he doesn’t like it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Sighing, he braces his hands against the table, resting his weight against it. If he’d known that this building would cause so much trouble, he never would have moved you in here. Not that the two of you had been swimming in options.

Your keys on the table catch his eye, but he doesn’t know why. He nudges them with his hand, metal dragging over the wood. On a whim, he counts them.

There is an extra key.

His brows lift. He picks up the keys and goes through them one by one, wracking his brain to remember what each one is for. At last he’s left with a single unfamiliar key. One that looks identical to the key to their apartment. A duplicate? he wonders. For when she’s locked out?

But no, the keys are different. Just similar.

An idea tickles at the back of his brain, but he’s never been the kind of man to ignore his instincts. He goes to the door without bothering to slip on his shoes, and steps silently out into the hallway. At this time of night, there is no one out and about, no one peeking at him from their doors. On silent feet, he pads to his neighbor’s door and grips the knob. Locked.

He slips the key into the lock—and it opens.

Oh that little bitch. Fury rises up in him until he can taste it in the back of his throat. He wants to go and wake you, take a fistful of your hair and drag you out into the hallway for all your nosy neighbors to see, wants to hear that shriek of pain you give when he hurts you so unexpectedly—

But no. He has to be smart.

He locks 5C’s door again, checks the handle, then slips back into his apartment. There will be no rest for him tonight. Not when there is so much to think about.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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