#and then got upset when i batted his hand away in pain

[writterings]

i remember one time i went to a bar n grill with my ex bf and the waitress was clearly a fujo because she gave us free dessert for no fucking reason. it was awesome like she literally said it was because we were gay and cute together.

[acourtofpenandpaper]

Our girl (Bat Boys x Reader)

Warning: Filthy smut ahead. Be warned, under 18 stay away.

For all others: enjoy...

Tags: Why choose? Bat boys x Reader, smut, 18+, group sex, oral sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, daddy kink, praise kink

Summary: Exploring the nightlife of Velaris isn't easy for me when I get dragged away from the dance floor. I was just feeling up my chances with a fae male to take home with me. But Rhys, Cassian and Az have other things in mind. And they don't like to share with others...

Length: 4.1k

Masterlist

Swaying with the beat of the music, I let go completely. Pearls of sweat clung to my chest, but I didn’t mind. It came with all the dancing, but this was exactly what I had come for tonight. After some persuasion from my side, I made the guys accompany me to explore the new club that opened in Velaris’ entertainment quarter.

Reluctantly, the High Lord of the Night Court had agreed to my nightly plans, and Cassian and Azriel followed suit after some persuading.

The Fae male had appeared by my side suddenly and with a smile, we danced around each other. He was beautiful, his blonde hair cut short and his eyes piercingly blue. I wouldn’t mind laying in his bed tonight. Imagined his full lips in-between my legs. My pulse shot to my middle, and I felt my panties dampen.

Oh, what I would do to get laid tonight. It had been a while. Entirely too long…

But I couldn’t finish my thought before a large hand landed on my dance partner’s shoulder.

Me and the blonde Fae looked to our sides. Cassian stood next to me, the spotlights highlighting the muscles peaking out from his shirt. He smirked and turned to the other male who looked concerned.

“Thanks for looking out for my girl. I can take it from here”, he shouted and grabbed my hand.

I wanted to protest but it was no use. With an apologetic look, I mouthed a quick goodbye to the male who looked just as dumbfounded as I felt right this moment.

But the pull on my hand was relentless, so I had no choice other than following Cassian through the crowd on the dance floor.

He abruptly stopped by the side of the floor next to a flight of stairs that apparently lead upstairs. I crashed face first into his broad and hard chest, and I couldn’t help but give him an upset look.

“Cassian, what the hell was that?” I shouted over the loud bass of the music. The music was so loud, I could feel all the vibrations coming from the various speakers in my body. It was a levitating feeling.

With his large hand, Cassian tipped up my chin and met my gaze with a grin on his lips. His highly delicious lips.

If the blonde Fae male from before had been pretty, Cassian was in an entirely different universe. So handsome it was painful. And I had to admit I envied the women he bedded.

But that envy extended to all my out-of-this-universe-handsome friends. Rhys, Cassian and Az were not only great friends but also insanely nice to look at.

And being the lucky girl tonight, I met Cassian’s gaze with confidence.

He finally opened his mouth and dropped close to my ear. My eyes fluttered in response to his hot breath on my skin.

“I was under the assumption that and just to note, Az and Rhys are sharing my view, that you haven’t dragged us into this club just to leave us alone.”

Baffled, I leaned back and said: “And I was under the assumption that you would mingle with other people.”

He chuckled softly and pushed back a loose strand of my hair. I couldn’t help but shiver under his touch.

“Okay, next time we’ll work on our communication. Rhys booked a private room in the VIP section, so we could have some…privacy. They are upstairs and hopefully, got some drinks.”

I should’ve guessed that the High Lord of the Night Court wouldn’t just dance around with the normal crowd. He had a reputation to protect and couldn’t just publicly grind on a stranger. Fair enough.

“Sorry for wandering off. You didn’t have to scare that poor guy, though”, I chuckled and laid my hand in Cassian’s.

He stepped aside for me to take the stairs and followed closely.

“It was fun, wasn’t it? He will get over it. Not that he stood a chance with taking you home or…?”

“Cassian, are you asking me if I wanted to fuck him? The answer is yes, a hundred times. It’s been a while, and I am not…”

I abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

“And you are not what?” He crooned and opened the first door to the right of the hallway.

“Nothing. Forget what I said.” I tried to brush it off.

We both entered the room. Rhys and Azriel were already sitting on of the couches, drink in hand. The room was dimly lit but the first thing I noticed was the big window facing the dance floor. From downstairs, I didn’t see the big window because of the dark and bright lights. But from here, I had a perfect view of all the people dancing.

“Had a little fun without us?” Rhys asked by my side and handed me a glass with a cold liquid. Knowing him, he knew that I didn’t do alcohol and I was delighted tasting sweet soda.

So, they had seen me dancing with the other male. Probably ordered Cassian to go fetch me to ruin my chance at having a little fun tonight.

“Yes, until this jerk came and ruined my fun”, I joked and pointed to Cassian who crashed onto the other couch. “Is this window…can they see us?”

Rhys flicked a switch on the wall to his side. “There is a switch for privacy. We can see them, but they cannot if we don’t want to.”

“Say, what did you want to say right before entering the room?” Azriel asked, still sitting on the couch and sipping his drink.

Was there ever a word Azriel didn’t hear? I faced him and waved off his question nonchalantly.

“Oh, it was nothing really.”

“Actually, she was just telling me that I ruined her chance of getting laid tonight. Because it’s been a whi…ouch!” Cassian laughed when I threw a soft pillow to make him shut up.

This male would be the death of me.

“I see”, Azriel responded. In the dim light of the room, I could make out a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, is that so? I wouldn’t have reckoned you having issues in this regard”, Rhys said, sitting down on the edge of the couch. His gaze was set on me.

“Well, not everyone looks like they got out of every woman’s or man’s wet dream, so excuse me wanting to take my chances”, I explained, pointing towards the guys.

Suddenly, I felt cornered in my place by the window. But nobody had moved. Yet, I could feel the air somehow becoming warmer. Three pair of eyes seemed to study me closely and I was scared to move.

“A woman’s wet dream?” Cassian chuckled. “I feel flattered.”

“Don’t listen to him”, Rhys whispered and stood. “I am more concerned about your lack of self-awareness. I am sure you have no trouble finding a male or female to take home with you. You just have no interest in them, I reckon. Say, what is your wet dream?”

He stepped closer to me while I tried to hold my distance by taking a step back. The cool glass of the window caressed the naked skin of my back.

My eyes flitted around the room, finding all the guys’ gaze on me. I gulped and met Rhysand’s eyes.

“I want to be owned. Claimed.”

Rhys hummed in response. Now he was towering me, our chests almost touching. I craned my neck to see his face.

“Claimed by whom?”

This wasn’t possible. They were my friends, purely platonic. For them at least. I had to admit that sometimes my fantasies surrounded them when I was touching myself. But the lust in his eyes spoke truth. And our intentions seemed to align tonight.

I dared to look to his side to see the same hunger in Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes. What the hell was happening? But it felt like another, more confident version of myself, taking over as my mouth opened and I whispered:

“By you. By you all.”

Rhysand’s purple eyes took on the darkest shade I had ever seen them.

“Fucking finally.”

His hand reached up to my neck and he pulled me closer to him, crashing his mouth on mine. Somehow, I still ended up surprised by this whole interaction, so I just stood there trying to process.

Rhys seemed to notice my reluctancy and leaned back, his eyes still hungry.

“You okay with this? We don’t have to…”

“No, no! I want you, it’s just a lot at once”, I breathed.

“Maybe I was a bit greedy. Let’s get you comfortable, what do you say, guys?”

“Seems like a good idea”, Cassian’s voice sounded from the back.

He led me to the couch, and I sat down next to Cassian while Rhys followed and sandwiched me between them. My gaze flicked back to Azriel who lazily drew circles on the couch’s cushion and studied us.

“Our girl wants a slower pace, so she is going to get it”, Rhys breathed against my neck and spread slow kisses on my sensitive skin.

Our girl.

The sound of his voice shot straight between my legs, and I pressed them together to ease the sudden wave of lust rushing through me.

“I think she liked you calling her that”, Azriel remarked opposite us. Meanwhile, Cassian had begun to claim my mouth and by the Cauldron, his lips were as delicious as I had assumed.

His kiss was slower than the one from Rhys before and I closed my eyes, enjoying their mouths roaming over my body.

“You like me calling you our girl? Well, get used to it because when we are done with you, you’re ruined for all men. You are ours. Just ours.” Rhys sounded behind me, and I felt my panties getting damp again.

Cassian’s tongue entered my mouth and I slightly nibbled on his bottom lip, wanting to tease him a bit for embarrassing me before. He chuckled and embraced my cheek with his hand.

I would have never guessed him to be so gentle. But I was also sure that he could fuck me senseless.

Right in this moment, he bit down on my lip and a moan escaped me.

Meanwhile, Rhys managed to open the back clasp of my dress.  I turned around, wanting to give him some attention as well and met his mouth in a kiss.

“Get her out of this dress. It seems rather distracting”, Azriel’s voice sounded.

The straps of my dress slung down my shoulders and I felt Cassian’s hands pushing them down, revealing my breasts and peaking nipples.

He sharply breathed in. “So beautiful. So perfect, don’t you think, Az?”

Azriel hummed in agreement. From the corner of my eye, I saw him cupping his hard member through his dark jeans.

Cassian continued to help me get rid of the dress, so I broke free of Rhysand’s kiss to quickly lift my ass. The dress finally pooled around my feet, leaving me in just my black lace thong.

“You are exquisite”, Rhysand growled and grabbed my right ass check, pushing me down on his lap.

His hands roamed the front of my body while Cassian kneeled in front of me, spreading kisses on my thighs. Rhys cupped one of breasts and squeezed, slightly pinching my hard nipple. My breath hitched and I arched into his touch.

I could feel him growing harder under my ass. This was blissful torture, and I enjoyed every second of it.

Rhys’ other hand wandered over my stomach and played with the seam of my thong. I whimpered, needing his touch, wanting to be touched.

“You greedy little thing, aren’t you? What do you want?” He teased me.

“I want…you”, I breathed out, moving my hips for some friction on his lap.

“What exactly? Cassian, stop. Say, what do you want?”

Cassian stopped in his tracks and looked up to us.

“I want your fingers fucking me”, I stated.

“Oh, you want my fingers to fuck your greedy pussy?” Rhys pinched my nipple again, this time with more pressure making me cry out. “Cassian, let’s get rid of these panties.”

I spread my legs slightly and Cassian pulled down my thong, leaving me completely bare while the guys were still clothed. Somehow, that turned me on even more. I felt vulnerable and exposed but also safe. I could trust them with my body and pleasure.

“Rhys, she’s even more beautiful down here”, Cassian said while his gaze devoured my glistening sex.

“Mhm. I am sure of that”, Rhys responded while his hand traveled south. “Hell, you are already soaking wet. I bet you feel amazing when I finally push my cock into you. Would you like that?” He asked and pushed a finger into my pussy.

“Yes, I want that”, I whimpered and grinded against his hand, making him chuckle.

Rhys switched up his position and pushed his fingers into my pussy from the side, leaving my clit out in the open. Cassian accepted the invitation and grabbed my legs, hoisting them on Rhys’ knees. His tongue sloppily licked my clit and painted in circles.

“My god, she’s delicious.” He hummed.

There, I was lying, getting finger-fucked by Rhys’ delicate fingers and Cassian devouring my pussy. Over his head, I watched Azriel’s face who was still studying the sight in front of him.

Rhys picked up his pace and grazed my G-spot. My moans were getting louder, and I couldn’t take it any longer. A sensation so strong I could cry was building up inside my stomach.

“I am going to come, oh god, yes don’t stop”, I cried out.

Suddenly, the sensation stopped. Rhys’ fingers had pulled out of my aching pussy and Cassian kneeled inches before me, catching his breath.

“What the?”

“You come when we tell you to. Now stand up”, Rhys ordered me, and I followed suit. “Our friend seems a little lonely over there. Why don’t you give him some of your attention?”

My gaze flicked to Azriel who sat up and reached out his hand. I grasped it and he pulled me onto his lap. My wetness flowed down onto his jeans, but he didn’t seem to mind when he crashed his mouth on mine. I grinded on him, feeling up his already hard cock beneath me.

My god, he was big. The girls always joked around that Azriel was the biggest between the guys, judging from his wingspan. And the rumors seemed to be true.

I needed to see him for myself. Wanted to have him in my mouth, even if it meant choking myself to death.

Hastily, I opened the fly of his trousers and pulled them and his briefs down. His cock sprang free, and I gasped. The sheer size of it wasn’t the surprising bit. Fascinated, I reached out and touched one of the four piercings that spread out along his length. I bet they felt amazing.

“Did they hurt?” I asked.

Azriel shrugged. “I don’t mind the pain.”

I leant forward and enveloped my hand over his hard cock. His eyes fluttered shut and he threw back his head.

“I want your mouth”, he mouthed while I slid my hand up and down his length.

Losing no time, I lowered my mouth onto his cock. It was unusual, sucking a pierced one but it was interesting feeling. Hungrily, I licked my tongue up and down his cock and sucked on his tip. A low moan escaped his lips.

This was so hot. I was so busy sucking Azriel that I didn’t notice Cassian kneeling behind me. Suddenly, his hot tongue licked my pussy from behind and I cried out on Az’s cock.

The vibrations seemed to work wonders for him, so I continued to hum in pleasure while licking my way up and down his delicious member.

“Cassian, I think she seems like she needs a good fucking from behind, don’t you think?” Rhys asked.

I let go of Azriel while still sliding my hand over his cock and turned around to see Cassian standing up from behind me and working on his trousers. He lost the shirt while working on me from behind and was now stepping out of his briefs. That was one beautiful male.

“Don’t worry, babe, we are all clean”, Rhys remarked from the couch, and I nodded in response.

“I am on birth control, and just got back from the doc. All good”, I responded.

Cassian smirked from behind me and suddenly, I felt a large tip tracing circles around my soaking entrance.

“I’ve always wanted to take you bare. Gosh, you feel so amazing”, he rumbled as he pushed slowly inside me.

My back arched in response as I took in the full size of Cassian. He was right, this felt amazing. Intoxicating, even.

I turned back to Azriel and lowered my mouth on his cock again. One hand was propped up on his knee for support while Cassian slowly pounded into me from behind.

When I was sure I wouldn’t lose my balance, my other hand wandered to Az’s balls and I played with them, lightly putting pressure on them. A low rumble sounded from Azriel’s chest.

I loved how responsive the otherwise quiet spymaster was when I played with his cock. It was addictive and I wanted more. More of him. Him inside me, all of them.

Cassian picked up the pace and hit my g-spot, making me see stars. Rhys appeared in the corner of my eyes and kneeled next to me, his hands lazily stroking my breasts and nipples.

“You should see yourself. How you take Cassian’s cock so well and devour Az with your mouth. I have never seen any girl completely sucking him off, but I knew you would. Good girl”, Rhys praised me and leant down to suck on my nipple.

In-between Cassian hitting my g-spot, Rhysand sucking my nipples and the feel of Azriel’s cock in my mouth, the sensation became too much.

I let go of Azriel and cried: “Rhys, I am close. I want to come so badly…”

Rhys looked up and smirked. “Will you ask nicely?”

Oh, that’s how this was going.

“I want to come so badly, please. Please, daddy. Let me come”, I pleaded.

“Guys, what do you say? Does our girl deserve to come already?” He asked and looked at his friends. One pounding into me and the other one getting stroked by my hand.

“Only if she takes our cum. All of it”, Az exclaimed.

“Agreed”, Cassian grunted behind me, his thrusts growing sloppily. He had to be close himself.

“What do you say? You take our cum like a good girl and then you come?”

I nodded eagerly, going back to sucking Az.

It took not much longer until Cassian moaned behind me and thrusted into me hard. After some time, he stopped his movement and I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs, hot and wet. He leant down and spread some lazy kisses on my back.

In front of me, Azriel’s pants grew louder, and his chest was heaving with his quickened breathing.

“Don’t stop, just like that”, he panted.

I could taste the first wave of his salty cum on my tongue, so I let go of his cock and quickly sat on his lap. In an instant, I pushed him inside of me, riding out his orgasm while he spilled his cum into me.

Moments later, Azriel stilled and looked at me completely dumfounded. He reached over and kissed me, probably tasting himself on my tongue.

From my side, a hand pulled me off Azriel’s lap and I protested, not enjoying the sudden emptiness. I was faced with Rhys’ naked body, and I let my gaze roam over him.

They were all way out of my league which was crazy to think when I was right now dripping with the cum of two of them. But Rhys had this regal vibe to him that only being the High Lord of the Night Court brought along.

And the High Lord had watched enough. Now it was his time. Rhys pulled me to him and crooned: “Do you enjoy getting filled up?”

I nodded.

“Good girl. One more and you’re allowed to come.”

My pussy ached at his words, eager to find the sweet release I was chasing that whole time.

Rhys guided me through the room and pushed me chest-first against the cold glass of the window. A shiver went through me, starting with my sensitive nipples.

“See those people dancing downstairs, oblivious to the fact that you are getting fucked by all of us over here. How about we give them a little show? Would you like that? Let them see you getting fucked by the High Lord of the Night Court?” Rhys whispered into my ear.

“Yes”, I breathed against the glass.

“I didn’t quite catch that?”

“Yes, daddy”, I moaned as his hand stroked my swollen clit.

I heard the flick of the switch and then Rhys pressed his hard cock against me, pushing inside me.

My hands land against the glass for support and Rhys pounded into me for the whole club to see. The dancers still seemed oblivious to it.

But just the possibility of someone seeing us, me pressed against the glass with hard nipples getting fucked by Rhysand almost pushed me over the edge.

“Such a good girl, taking all our cocks so well. Let them see what a good girl you are”, Rhys panted behind me and reached in front of me, flicking my clit.

I cried out, it was almost painful to be touched. I needed to come, badly. It all depended on Rhysand who was going steady in a fast and hard rhythm, holding my shoulders back. I lost myself in the blissful feeling of fullness and let go of any control of my body.

Screams and moans escaped me as I felt Rhys spilling himself into me with one final thrust and low grunt. He pulled out of me and grabbed my shoulder to turn me around. By now I was a panting mess, sticky from all the sweat and cum on me. I couldn’t think straight, only one thought on my mind.

Rhys embraced my neck with his hand and crashed his mouth onto mine, like in the beginning of this dreamlike evening.

“You felt amazing. You deserve to come. Let me make you feel good”, he breathed and kneeled in front of me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The High Lord kneeling in front of me. Rhys’ gaze locked with mine as his tongue licked between my swollen folds.

I cried out and leant my head against the glass. But I didn’t want to miss the sight of Rhys feasting on me, so I watched in the corner of my eye. His hands grabbed my ass from behind as he pushed his face into my pussy, sucking on my clit and tasting his own cum mixed with his friends’.

This feeling was like no other and in no time, the sensation from before built up in my stomach. But this time, Rhys didn’t stop. Now I knew better though, and asked for his permission:

“Daddy, may I come?”

“Yes, come for us. Come.” He ordered and sucked harder on my clit.

At his command, I came apart and screamed with pleasure under the eager gaze of Cassian and Az.

“Oh god, yes, yes like that” I panted and rode out my climax on Rhys’ tongue.

He pressed a soft kiss on my now sensitive clit and stood, embracing my face with his hand. Cassian flicked the switch for the window next to him, giving us privacy again.

“You were amazing. Are you okay?”

His voice sounded concerned and I nodded, trying to slow my breath to an acceptable pace.

“Good. Now let’s get you dressed. We can prepare a bath at home for you if you like”, he proposed and pressed a soft kiss on my lips.

To my side, Cassian did the same on my shoulder and traced his fingers over my back. Azriel appeared next to Rhys and held up my dress. Helping me get into it, they kept a close watch on me. As if they were concerned that it was all too much for me.

If anything, I cherished the feeling of being filled with their cum, which was dripping down my thighs. I felt safe and loved as Rhys laid an arm over my shoulder and guided me out of the room that smelled like pure sex by now.

“Guys, let’s get our girl home.”

Now, that was something I could get used to.

I hope you enjoyed this short story!

[luveline]

how’re eddie and roan doing??🫶🏻

(step)mom!reader, 2k

Sometimes you know you’re not good enough for Eddie and his daughter.

It’s a pinprick pain in the same place. The tiniest fear turned to heat.

“I’m gonna get you!” he warns.

“No, you’re not!” Roan stands at the other side of the room. With the door at her father’s back, she has no proof to substantiate her claim, but she makes it anyway. “You’re slow!”

You sit on the end of the bed with one leg hanging off, a socked foot brushing the carpet. Your legs are aching and the bottom of your spine feels bruised, so you aren’t joining in tonight. You watch them glare and giggle at one another.

Your head hurts between your eyes.

Eddie makes a ‘scary’ face and runs across the room to grab her. She squeals in terrified delight and races for the bed, climbing up behind you and over it, swapping places with him easily, or so she thinks. She’s slower than he is, and can’t escape his grabbing hands as he leaps for her on your bed, flattening your stepdaughter into a pancake.

“No, no,” she laughs beneath him.

Eddie braces his arms either side of her. “I told you’d I’d get you,” he says in a menacing voice, like a character from a movie, he can do a hundred different impressions. “You’ve stolen your last Twinkie, child. Be prepared for retribution.”

“I hate retribution!” she shouts.

Eddie laughs like a kid. “You’ll have to learn to love it.”

He grabs the end of her shirt, tugs it up, and drops his face into her stomach to grow the world's most aggressive raspberry. Roan screams the house down, laughing and shrieking as the vibrations tickle her skin. Eddie takes another big breath, lets it out against her bellybutton, even as Roan’s knees come up and jab him in the arm. “Dad, oh my gosh, stop!”

He stops. “You surrender?”

“No.” A third huge raspberry gets pressed into her tummy.

“Give up,” he sing-songs, “you know you can’t defeat me, little Munson.”

“Y/N, please help me,” Roan says, half crawling under Eddie’s weight to grab your arm. “Please save me.”

Your smile is two shades off, but she doesn’t notice, and you wouldn’t want her to. “I can’t, princess, only a knight can save you now.”

Eddie blows a raspberry on her tummy, then her neck. She hates that even more than the tummy ones and flings herself out of his arms with breathless laughter, the urgency of knowing you’re going to be killed by such horrible, painful, excruciating affection. “You,” she says, taking deep breaths as she slinks down onto the floor, “are the worse dad. Ever.” She laughs like taffy. “I’m listening to my body and it says I need some soda.”

“You can have a capri sun,” Eddie says firmly.

She rushes away, runs down the stairs, and it’s all Eddie can do to constrain his usual warning, you can tell. “She’s gonna fall down them,” he says, batting the hair out of his eyes, “and then what will I do?”

You smile weakly. “I don’t know, teddy. Guess we’d have to roll her around in a wheelbarrow for a bit.”

He clambers onto his knees beside you. A spiral curl falls into his eyes. Everybody’s pretty when they smile but Eddie’s a heartbreak when he’s upset, when the corner of his mouth twitches wanting to pull down and his eyes lose their mirth. “Hey, what’s wrong?” With a little more pep, “Are you tired? Hungry?”

“Sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, so I won’t accept it.” His hand hesitates by your leg. “What’s not okay?”

You shake your head, not wanting to look at him anymore. He’s prettier than you are, with a better heart. He’s a great father and you’re a shitty mom. You have less practice than he has, sure, but you can’t do anything right for Roan lately, you mess up her lunch and forget to buy her yoghurts when you’re coming home even though Eddie called you twice to make sure you got them. He didn’t even get mad. If he asks you one more time what’s wrong, you’re gonna burst into tears.

He doesn’t ask.

Eddie wraps an arm heavily over the back of your shoulders and neck. The other vys for your hand in your lap, his knuckles brushing against your thigh. “You’re not feeling up to it, is that what it is? Maybe you’re tired,” he suggests, with all his usual tenderness. You’re struck with a memory of him when you’d first started dating, how awkward he could be and how he’d shoved it aside when you had one of your worst days at work. He’d surprised you outside, Roan waiting in his backseat, promising to take you home and make you a home cooked meal. You’d eaten it under his arm like this.

There were moments before you’d been his girlfriend where you worried he wasn’t gonna let you have him. That he wasn’t gonna want you, that you’d move on from each other and have to pretend it never happened. But he’s whispering in your ear, hand latched onto your arm and rubbing circles into the tired muscle there without thought. “You can tell me anything,” he’s saying, “you know you can, just tell me what’s bothering you, don’t like it when you’re quiet…”

“Just had a bad day,” you say, tight and squeezed, so clearly evident that you’re gonna cry.

“At work?”

“All day.”

“Why? What’s bad?” he asks.

Nothing, you think, nothing’s bad, nothing is different than usual, but you feel awful. Like your hearts trying to invert itself in your chest, an upset with notes of panic.

“You know what I think it is?” he asks when you don’t answer, his demeanour dipping further and further into tenderness. “I think you didn’t eat enough at dinner, and you didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now you could use a shower and a hug and maybe a little time to yourself. When was the last time you had an hour for you?”

Your eyes crinkle tightly, your mouth twists. You get that weird rush of tingles all over your face and the heat of collecting tears. “It’s not like that,” you insist. “I love you, I don’t want time away from you, I swear.”

“I don’t want time away from you.” He kisses your cheek, twice, a third time, each one with more pressure than the kiss before. “I just mean… I don’t know, baby, I just thought you might be dealing with a lot.”

The worst thing bursts out of you, because you need him to tell you it’s not true. “I’m such a bad mom.”

The crying is unfortunate and immediate, your shoulders seizing under his arm. Eddie could tell it was coming, you’re sure, he doesn’t baulk, he never does.

“You’re not a bad mom, you’re a great mom,” he says, followed by a great wave of shushing.

“I’m awful, I’m supposed to be so much better, I can’t even remember her snacks.”

“Snacks are a really huge part of being a mom,” he says, “but she doesn’t care. She forgave you the moment you said sorry. You think she cares about her yoghurts? That’s not why she sits there waiting everyday after school, is it?”

“You asked me to get them and I forgot.”

“Well, should we call the cops now or later?”

“Eddie.”

He ushers your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, but you haven’t done anything that would make you a bad mom.”

You’re not Roan’s natural mother, you didn’t carry her, and so you find yourself in a privileged position. She treats you as she would a mom, she calls you mommy every day. You’re still letting her down.

“I love you, and Ro, and I wouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t love her, but you know… you really– you give more effort than we ever asked you to. You’re amazing. I never could have imagined getting to be with someone I love, and who loves my girl like she’s their own.” His murmuring takes the wryness of someone who knows what they’re saying is immeasurably corny, and he doesn’t stop. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is, but I do.”

“She deserves more.”

“She deserves you. You love her.”

You scrub your face, hiding from him behind your fingers. He waits in the quiet, now rubbing your back in large passes of his hand.

“Is that the only thing that’s making you like this?”

“I just feel like… everything I do, I could do better. Everything. And lately I feel so ugly. I thought this stuff would go away,” you confess, letting your hands fall away.

“I don’t think worrying ever goes away. Everybody worries about something.”

He ushers you back, the arm that warmed your shoulders dropping, his hand reaching instead for your face. He thumbs at tearstains and your damp top lip. “Please don’t cry,” he says, “you’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You’re killer, you always have been, but it’s my fault you don’t know that. I don’t tell you enough.”

He must tell you everyday, some days he tells you ten times or more. Still, it’s nice to have him say it, to place the blame of your insecurities on him, to try and make it his problem and not yours. It’s extremely loving, if extremely untrue.

“Sorry, Eddie. I think you’re right. Think I need to sleep, and, I don’t know. Stop feeling sorry for myself.” You smile weakly.

“I don’t think that’s what it is. If you need me to tell you what I think about you to feel better, I’ll do it every hour of the day.” He beams at you. “I hate when you cry.”

You huff a laugh. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

“No– No, I don’t mean it like that. Don’t make me an asshole. I’m happy to see you smile again.”

“You give a good pep talk.”

“Can I give you a kiss now, is that alright?”

“If you stop being so nice after.”

Eddie turns his face and kisses you soundly. His hand climbs to your neck, his index finger draws a short, light line up your throat as his lips move against yours, and curls into itself as he pulled away to stroke gently under your chin. Then he gives you a shove, forcing you to lay down.

“Cheer up, dummy. You’re a great mom and you’re gonna be the best wife. Chill out.”

You catch one of his mean hands to hold to your tummy.

He sits there with you for ages. Five minutes turns to ten, then ten to fifteen, nothing else said, but his hand unmoving where you’ve put it.

“Ro!” he calls eventually. “Where’d you go, bub? Are you okay?”

Her mouth is obviously full when she calls back, “I’m okay!”

“That rascal is eating my Twinkies,” he says.

“Go stop her,” you say, pinching his fingers between yours playfully, softly, one at a time.

“We’re having time to ourselves.”

“I don’t need time away from her.”

“I know. But you need time to lay down without somebody bugging you to play, or watch her do a handstand. She’ll come back as soon as she’s hid the evidence, anyways.” He rolls his eyes. “Like I won’t notice.”

You crawl towards him and curl around him, locking him in place. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“It’s literally my favourite thing to do.”

Your front to his back where he’s sitting, your face against the back of his hip, you kiss his t-shirt. He makes a soft sound, breathing out, his hands covering your arm where you’ve hooked him at the waist.

—

more eddie, roan and reader

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Steve had thought he already knew what delirium meant—remembers laughing hysterically in a Russian bunker with little say as to what bullshit came streaming out of his mouth.

But this is different. At least back then, the haze of the drugs made the pain temporarily float away, let him drift off into some form of blissful ignorance.

Now he feels it all. He’s hyperaware, can pinpoint each and every source of agony lancing through him; can even pick out the fact that the cut on his hand still throbs, the tar-like mud of The Upside Down stuck under his fingernails.

Sometime after he had fallen, the bats stopped coming. He doesn’t know why. Maybe they’ve had their fill. Maybe there’s nothing more of him left to take.

Sound comes to him as if filtered through a megaphone, loud and echoing. He hears a series of swears, yelling. Panting. The crash of a bicycle being thrown to the ground.

Eddie.

The words come pouring out, quicker even than the blood leaving him, a desperate chanting.

“Dustin, Dustin, Dustin—”

“He’s okay,” Eddie says. His face comes into view, pale and drawn, slick with sweat. No blood though, Steve thinks. No blood on him. That’s good. “He’s okay, you hear me? I didn’t leave him alone; the girls, they’ve—they’ve got him. Hey. Hey, Harrington, eyes on me. Dustin—he’s gonna be all right, man, I stopped the bleeding.”

“Good,” Steve gets out. I knew you could, I knew you could, you’re fucking incredible. “S’good. Hey, Eddie, he’s—think he’s gonna be really upset, ‘kay?”

“What do you—”

“But he has you,” Steve says. He hates the fact that his voice is slurring. If he can’t speak, how else is Eddie supposed to know that… “He has—you’ll help him, right? You can… play D&D, an’…”

Eddie’s laugh splits through the air. It sounds something like grief.

“Harrington, that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve insists. There’s blood in his mouth, in his throat; he tries to swallow without choking, to talk around it. “It’s—you make him happy, Eddie. Don’t you know? You make him s-so damn happy.”

“Shut up.”

Eddie’s breathing has an odd, thick sound to it, and Steve realises with a distant wonder that he’s crying. Crying over him. What a strange thing…

A series of sharp claps cut through everything; Steve blinks, can’t remember his eyes closing to begin with.

Eddie’s face is suddenly very close. His lips are shaking.

“Wake up. Now you’re gonna fucking listen to me, Steve Harrington. We didn’t go through all of this fucking bullshit, just for it to end here, you understand? I said, do you understand?”

“Are you mad at me?” Steve breathes. A far-off part of him insists that this is such a silly thing to ask, but he can’t help it. Everything hurts, and he has a sudden, awful burst of clarity: that he doesn’t want to die thinking that Eddie hates him. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “No, Steve,” he says haltingly, like he’s trying so hard to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m not mad at you. J-just. Scared.”

And then for a terrible moment, Eddie disappears. Steve tries to turn his head to search for him, but he can’t—

The sound of someone retching.

Oh, Steve thinks. Oh, it’s because of me.

“H-hey. Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t look.”

He hears Eddie spit harshly.

“Jesus Christ, stop talking, Harrington.”

And then Eddie is right there again, his hands just hovering, not touching.

“Steve,” he whispers, but Steve gets the feeling that he isn’t actually talking to him, not really. “God, I don’t—don’t know what to do.”

“You’re back,” Steve says, almost dream-like, and when Eddie laughs, this time it’s a pretty sound.

“Yeah, I’m back. Like a bad penny.”

“No,” Steve murmurs, feels like he’s floating somewhere—feels perhaps that he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it. “You’re beautiful.” Eddie’s eyes soften, and that probably should be a nice sight, Steve thinks, except for the fact that, for some reason, Eddie also looks like his heart is breaking.

There’s something soft being wrapped tightly around his hand, and it stings, but that’s okay, because when Steve glances down, he can discern just enough to see that it’s Eddie’s bandana.

And it’s a nice thought, that he can still feel this. Can still feel something of Eddie’s trying to heal him.

“Right, big guy, up and at ‘em.” Eddie’s hand in his, the clack clack clack of the metal rings.

Oh, he’s shaking, Steve thinks.

Then he realises what Eddie’s planning to do.

“Eddie, m’sorry, can’t—can’t walk, jus’—”

“Shut up,” Eddie says again. “I’m gonna carry you.”

“But that’s—s’too much. M’too heavy.”

“No,” Eddie says simply. “C’mon, on three.”

But Eddie’s a liar and moves him on two. That’s all right, Steve thinks. He knows that kind of trick, knows that Eddie’s pulling out all the stops for him.

Doesn’t stop him from screaming, though.

“God,” Eddie whispers, and Steve already knows this isn’t for him to hear, but he can’t shut it out. “Fuck, I think I’m killing you.”

You couldn’t, Steve wants to say. Wants to tell Eddie not to worry. You couldn’t ever hurt me.

But he can’t stop screaming.

“S’too much,” he moans.

“No, come on,” Eddie says. He’s straining, still walking. Not giving up. “Hey, Steve, just a few more steps. We’re almost home.”

Oh, you liar, Steve thinks. Wants to smile. Wants to cry. You beautiful, beautiful liar.

“S’too much,” he says again, and he hopes Eddie gets what he means, this time. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, and there’s a whine in there that hurts—like Eddie’s crying again. “Steve, don’t—hey, just keep talking to me. Don’t—please.”

Another step. Eddie tugs, pulls him closer and—

Steve gasps, feels a tear, right through the centre of him, through all of him, hears a dreadful scream—

And then nothing at all.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Do you have any Kane headcanons?

I sure do! <3

Rating: T  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?•ko-fi•

EDIT: shout out to @reallyrallyauthor who has just posted some amazing headcanons too!

Smells floraly. It’s not an extreme/off putting smell, but it hits you every now and then. At first, you think it’s just his body wash or something, but pretty soon you work out it’s just him. (My brain is telling me especially like a Hawthorn scent for some reason.) 

Animals love him. It’s almost like they are hypnotised/drawn to him. Wild animals will act domesticated/docile around him. Pets will instantly bond with him. He doesn’t seem to bat an eye at this and just acts as if it’s completely normal. 

Once a grizzly bear came out of nowhere when you were both on a hike, despite the noise you had made sure you’d been making. You’d frozen, grabbing at Kane’s arm. But Kane had just cocked his head to the side and the bear had sat down peacefully. 

“It’s fine.” Kane had told you, voice even and quiet.

But when he saw your panic, he’d nodded his head to the side and the bear had walked off that way. 

He didn’t understand why you’d dragged him back to the car. “It was fine.” 

“Grizzly’s kill people Kane.” 

“We were safe.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

He’d looked at you carefully, as if you were a toddler trying to convince him you’d see a flying pig. 

He doesn’t like to shake hands when meeting new people. It’s unsettling for him, makes his skin crawl. But he’ll do it anyway once he learns about social niceties to try to fit in. However, he’ll grab your hand afterwards and squeeze it rhythmically to calm down and get rid of the stranger’s touch. 

He gets overstimulated easily in new situations around new people and will just shut down, not speaking and avoiding eye contact completely. His warning signs are subtle and easy to miss unless you’re paying attention. 

However, if you’re near he’ll find you and just say, “leave.” quietly. 

He also comes to you when he’s overstimulated, most of the time he’ll just bury his face in your neck to shut out whatever is causing him distress. 

Despite not liking touching strangers he is more than happy to touch plants, animals and inanimate objects. And you. 

In fact he rarely does anything without some kind of physical contact with you. Holding your hand or touching your arm or leg, putting his head on your shoulder, practically laying in your lap. He’s like a cat. 

Doesn’t like it when you’re upset. It’s one of the rare times you see an immediate reaction from him, even if he doesn’t understand what’s upset you or made you angry he’s doing whatever he needs to to fix it. To stop you from feeling pain. 

Someone once pushed you rudely in the supermarket and you frowned. Kane was one second away from throwing a punch. You had to drag him out of the shop and explain that that wasn’t an ‘appropriate response’. 

He has settled on being very vocal if someone is impolite towards you, just saying “Rude.” very loudly and pointedly while staring the offender down. 

People don’t like his stare. The one he only seems to use when something’s gone wrong. When someone’s trying to square up to him. It seems to stop them in their tracks and make them reconsider. Causes a little spike of terror in their hearts. 

He’s never used the look on you, only gazing at you quizzically or softly. 

He follows you around, a little lost at times. Needing to be in the same room as you. 

At first it was a little disconcerting. The way he’d climb into your bed in the middle of the night. How he once got in the bath with you (fully clothed and not understanding your shock). You never feel scared around him though, you know he’ll never hurt you. 

Thank you for reading!

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[cinnamonest]

Also on note of that “bone breaking” post I believe Xiao is an absolute menace to the innkeepers because of his inability to gauge human sickness and injury. He's thoroughly convinced any slight discomfort you experience is a near-death situation.

Human life is incredibly fragile. Their bodies are nearly unbelievably susceptible to death from even very mild injuries and sicknesses, they die so easily it's frightening. Which is why he has to be very vigilant with you.

You once got a bit nauseous from eating something a bit past expiry date — you insist it's just food poisoning over and over, but he practically drags you to a pharmacist anyway “just in case,” because there are many deadly pathogens and parasites humans can die from that begin this way, and you will drop dead before you even know something is wrong.

If you have a headache, it's probably an oncoming aneurysm that will cause sudden death. You may think you have a mere common cold, but he is well aware that many very dangerous and severe illnesses begin as symptoms of common colds, some of which progress so rapidly you may not have time to notice before sudden death.

You try to explain your throat hurts because what you ate is giving you heartburn, but if it has the word heart, which is a very vital organ, that can only mean you are at great risk of, you guessed it, sudden death.

More than once now you've been sleeping a little too deeply — your breaths are so slow that it looks like you're barely breathing at all, so he has to shake you awake to ensure you are still alive. Any cough or sneeze is met with this head-jerk in your direction and yellow eyes wide open staring in panic, and you have to swear up and down you just got swallowed the wrong way or inhaled some dust.

Not even period pains are safe — it's normal, so you insist, you can't hide your discomfort so you're all but begging him not to worry about it, but this one time he remembers about seven hundred years ago he once heard a villager mention a woman who had internal bleeding mistaken for just that and died, so it must be seen professionally (yes, each month). The whole concept bothers him — you're bleeding and in pain, those things are bad, how can you be sure it's the normal amount of bleeding and pain and not too much, that you're not actually five minutes away from dropping dead? That's right, you can't know, which is why you have to let him carry you to the harbor for the third time this week.

Injury is even worse — yes, he's aware that human flesh bruises easily, but this bruise is on your ribcage, and you don't recall how it got there, there are organs underneath there and you could very well be internally bleeding out.

Both innkeepers are, at this point, used to him coming bounding into the main lobby in full-fledged panic, demanding to hand over the emergency medical kit kept by the front desk so he can save you from bleeding out (you accidentally cut your finger on a splinter on the baseboard), and they no longer bat an eye or ask where you're going when he comes barging through carrying you (protesting, at that) out the door without a word before vanishing in the direction of the nearest village with a doctor… even when you try to get their help to please tell him I'm fine, they just ignore you at this point, knowing it's futile.

There's a death at the inn once — you try to be reasonable and explain that it was a very elderly and sickly man who most certainly died of natural causes, but see, you don't know for sure that he didn't have some kind of rare rapid-onset deadly illness that can spread from the bottom floor all the way up to where your room is, so it is imperative that you be disinfected professionally.

He annoys the doctors too — they're all used to it at this point too, but many of them are aware of him, and none of the humans really want to oppose or risk upsetting one of these beings they have a degree of reverence for, so much to your dismay, all of them continue to treat his concerns as legitimate, even though it's very blatantly clear to you that they're faking taking it seriously.

On the bright side, having some pity on your suffering perhaps (or being tired of dealing with the same thing over and over), the harbor pharmacist managed to convince him that an over-the-counter mild painkiller was a miracle cure for a wide variety of ailments, so unless you feel that you need more, he says, then that should be enough… which cuts down on the frequency of your unnecessary emergency care visits, but only somewhat.

At this point, surely at least one of the concerns has been legitimate, he has definitely saved your life more than once by now. And yet, you have not thanked him for this, you continue to be so naive to your own fragility and do nothing but complain about it when you literally owe him your life. Unbelievable.

But rest assured, your ungratefulness will not deter him from continuing to take the utmost care of you, he'll continue to save you, regardless of how unappreciated these life-saving efforts are.

[rentsturner]

You're a Sinking Stone - AT

Professor!Alex Turner x reader

Summary - Alex is acting strangely in class, you make a rash decision, a punishment goes wrong and angst ensues. Don’t like it = don’t read it. 18+ only, please read the warnings

Warnings - daddy kink/daddy issues, teacher-student relationship, Alex being mean, Alex fucks up, Alex is a hypocrite, nipple clamps, punishment, bdsm undertones, subspace, bad experience with subspace, jealousy, insecurity, miscommunication, pain kink, use of safe word, serious aftercare, pet names, angsty conversations, cuddling.

a/n: Ok so this is a JOINT piece written with my bestie @martinipoliz. We both contributed to this, I just have the privilege of posting it. She is an amazing writer and I think everyone should you check out her other AMAZING fics. Send her some love. We've been working on this for weeks, it means a lot to me. So thank you for reading!

Usually, class with Alex is the highlight of your day. Spending a few hours sending each other flirty

looks and admiring how animated he becomes when explaining a topic he is passionate about is something that you love.

But today, it’s not the same as usual. You’ve done something wrong, and you really don’t know what. 

Alex is ignoring you, completely ignoring you. He’s never been this dismissive before. Your shy eyelash bat doesn’t work on him. Even your puppy eyes, which usually have Alex melting, has absolutely no effect. You really don’t understand what his problem is, he hasn’t mentioned anything to you and now he’s acting like you don’t even exist, you may as well have not turned up to class. 

Your last straw is when you tug on the end of his suit, a common affectionate gesture between the two of you, but Alex just pulls his hand away and brushes you off like you're nothing. That’s when tears start to form in your eyes,  you let your gaze fall back to your desk.

“Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,” you mumble, gripping your pen dangerously tight as you try to avoid looking around as much as possible, especially trying to avoid the sight of Alex. Your mind starts racing through all the things you had done that day and you wonder where you’ve gone wrong, but nothing comes to mind. Perhaps you are forgetting about something. Perhaps you said something bad that got you into trouble and now he – you don’t even want to think about it, just the thought of upsetting Alex edges you closer to tears.

Then, you turn slightly to the left and see Alex praising another girl in your class. He’s bent over her shoulder, smiling brightly as she asks him questions, a complete contrast to the dismissive gaze he’d sent your way earlier. You don’t even want to attract Alex’s attention anymore, it makes  you feel pushy and clingy, and it’s just turning your mind to chaos, too many emotions fighting for space. A haze begins to descend onto you. 

As the tears begin to fall, something inside you snaps and you do something irrational. You get up and walk straight out of the class. 

You leave your books and pens sprawled out across your desk, walk past the other students gazing curiously at your shaking form and slam the door behind you. You can’t see Alex’s facial expression but you can imagine the shock spreading across his features. Never have you done something so insolent. 

But as soon as you lock yourself in an isolated toilet cubicle, you can tell you are already in subspace. You want nothing more than to be cradled and babied and held by Alex but clearly, he was too busy praising another girl to even pay attention to you – and it hurts. Your mind is swimming in confusion, thoughts and emotions clashing and whirring, you want the ground to swallow you up. 

After many deep breaths, the emotions in your head began to streamline, just a little, into something that feels a lot like anger and resolution.  

You pull yourself together and head back to the classroom, ready to just get on with the work, but Alex has already dismissed the class and is waiting by your desk, arms folded, glaring at you. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he quirks a brow.

“What’s gotten into me – no, what’s gotten into you,” you jab a finger his way accusingly, another wave of tears already forming in your eyes. So much for your resolve. “I don’t – I don’t know what I did to – to deserve this treatment but i would very much a–appreciate it if you just tell me, da–”

“Enough,” Alex snaps, unfolding his arms from his chest as he stands straight and tall, fixing the tie around his neck. “I don’t want to hear it. Go to your next class, and I expect to find you later in the bedroom naked and kneeling on the floor, alright?”

Your lips quivered. He didn’t even hear you calling him daddy. He doesn’t understand, he won’t even look at you. “But–”

“That mouth will seriously get you into further trouble, little one, so I suggest you shut it.”

You sit through the rest of your classes like a zombie, barely even concentrating on the work being set. You’re still trying to run the past few days through your head, trying to figure out where you’ve gone wrong, but again come up with nothing - the past few days have been domestic bliss living with Alex in his flat. The fog descending on your mind again doesn’t help you focus either, it’s like running through thick mud in the pouring rain. Eventually you give up and completely zone out for the rest of the class. 

When you finally leave, you consider going back to your flat, but then decide to head to Alex’s instead and follow his instructions. You’re already in deep shit, you don’t wanna piss him off any further. You at least want to plead your case and show him that what you did back in the class was justifiable and hopefully have the voice to ask him to consider your actions.

You trudge alone back to Alex’s house with blurry vision, shaking, partly from the cold and partly from the ache in your heart. You can only hope that pleasing Alex will make things right, so once you’ve unlocked the door (with the spare key Alex had cut for you) and kicked off your shoes, you head up to the bedroom. You strip and fold your clothes neatly, the way Alex likes it, and take your familiar place at the foot of the bed. The sensation of your bare knees on the plush carpet helps to ground you. You close your eyes and wait.

The click of the front door breaks you out of your daze and alerts you to Alex arriving home. You hear him fumbling around with keys and then the clang of a glass before his footsteps finally echo up the stairs. 

His figure comes into view - his suit jacket must have been discarded somewhere downstairs, now he only wears his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent along his pale arms. He holds a glass of whiskey in one hand. His dark eyes meet yours, and you see then he’s in the same mood as earlier. 

“Have you been crying?” 

You can only sniffle, then nod your head.

“Well, that’s too bad. Looks like you’re going to be crying more tonight.”

Alex throws the amber liquid down his throat in one easy gulp, then sets the glass down firmly on the bedside table. He reaches down to the top drawer - your ‘entertainment’ drawer. 

When his hand pulls back from the drawer, some dangling slivers of metal come out with it. The anticipation of what Alex might do to you sits heavily in your stomach and you crane your head to get a better look at what’s in his hand. Fuck. Nipple clamps. You shiver at the mere sight of them. You’ve only used them a few times before and, sure, they made you feel amazingly sensitive, but it hurt like hell at the start. 

The thought of the pain about to be inflicted on you makes your pulse race in excitement, but you also doubt if you can take it with everything that you’ve already been through today. Really, all you want is for Alex to hold you and tell you you’re ok, that he never meant to dismiss you or shout. You heave in a deep breath, trying to make sense of the emotions clouding your head. It’s so hard to see through the fog. 

You’re tempted to end it there and then, before the scene can go any further, but out of desperation to please Alex, you remain silent. You choke back the sobs threatening to spill, and you obediently keep your hands behind your back as you kneel silently on the floor. 

There’s a beat of silence when he stops in front of you, letting the metal clamps dangle in your line of vision for no reason other than to taunt you, and you swear you almost fail to keep your tears at bay when you hear him chuckle at the pitiful sight of you.

“Think those nipples deserve to be clamped tonight, don’t they? For the shit you pulled earlier, I think you deserve  much worse than nipple clamps, but as I’m feeling so kind and generous, I’ll just do this instead.”

Alex’s mean words don’t help your situation at all. 

You let the mask slip a little bit when a sob escapes from your lips, but it’s ignored by Alex, who’s now settling down to kneel in front of you. You’re both in the same position, kneeling opposite each on the floor, but it’s so obvious who’s in charge here. Alex hasn’t even taken his loafers off, whereas you’re entirely stripped, only the chain that Alex bought you to match his adorning your neck. Your gaze lowers to Alex’s crotch, a tent becoming increasingly obvious in his pants. 

His free hand moves to grab one of your breasts, running his calloused fingertips over your nipple, coaxing it to get harder. He leans his head down before running the flat of his tongue over the same nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your eyes widening as Alex then takes your bud between his teeth and nips, before running his tongue back over it. 

“Got to get these nice and hard for me, so responsive, you love this, don’t you? You fucking love me punishing you,” he mutters around your skin as he repeats the treatment on your other breast. 

You whine helplessly, arousal pooling in your stomach, mixing with the fear and anticipation.

Finally, Alex pulls back from your nipple with an audible pop, his eyes even darker than before. Your teary gaze meets his and for a moment you think he sees you, sees how quickly you’re dropping, how much you need his love. You’re so caught up in his stare that you fail to notice his hand bringing the clamp up to your chest. As the metal clips harshly around your first nipple, you scream.

You almost get up from the sheer pain, your hands flying up from your back to hold Alex by the arm, so desperately needing his  support, but he harshly pulls his arm away, “Bad girls don’t get to touch. Hold still.” 

He clips on the second clamp quickly, before giving both of them a firm tug, making sure they’re secure. A jolt runs through you as he does so, going straight to your cunt, and straight to your head and that’s when you let the tears fall. It’s all too much, you don’t know whether to moan or scream again. Instead you just sob pathetically and shake your head, trying to avoid Alex’s inscrutable gaze. 

If you weren’t so stressed, confused and deep into subspace right now, you would be turned on by the sheer humiliation and pain from the nipple clamps, but right now you just can’t. 

Your hands itch to pull the metal away but your lips only quiver, knowing you can’t do anything but endure it. Your face is wet with tears, and you’re already drooling down your chest from the way you’re sobbing hysterically.

Your mouth opens to speak, but before a word even comes out, one of Alex’s hands flies to tap you on the cheek. It’s not hard, but it’s firm enough to make you sink deeper into subspace. You let your gaze just fall back on the floor and try to let your head float away. 

The pain your nipples are feeling is immeasurable. Your fists curl tightly into your lap, but that only makes Alex chuckle. “Aw, you’re mad at me, baby? You’re mad at me for punishing you like this? Like you deserve?”

Every word just cuts deeper into the already open wound in your heart and sends your mind spinning further into chaos. You can’t stop your head from shaking in disagreement.

“No, you know you deserve this. Fucking swearing at me in my classroom? You think you’ve got the upper hand now, huh, baby? You think you can just walk out of the room and have me worry in there for the rest of the hour? You think you’re in control now? Well, just in case you’re forgetting, baby, I’ll gladly show you who’s really in charge now.”

As Alex goes to unbuckle his belt, your eyes go wide. The sound of the metal clanging together sends your mind into even more panic, wondering what the fuck he’s going to do.

One, he’s going to fuck you until you cry even more. Two, he’s going to belt your arse until you won’t be able to sit properly for the next week. 

These options that would usually have you weak at the knees and dripping wet, are sounding just - awful. They both sound awful. You can’t do this, not in your current state of mind. You just want a hug, you just want Alex. 

Your Alex.

Your head cranks up to finally let the word tumble out of your mouth, out of pure fear and pain.

“Peaches, Daddy– peaches, please, p–peaches – I don’t want – I don’t want anymore, Daddy, peaches –”

As the words repeatedly slip out of your mouth, Alex’s face drops. Shit. Now he sees, now he realises that you weren’t playing, you weren’t winding him up on purpose, that all this time you were upset and in subspace and now he feels so guilty, so awful for not noticing. His heart just sinks.  

Alex’s hands go to pull the clamps away immediately, not caring about gentleness, just knowing that you need them off, right now. He drops to his knees to grab you by the arms, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder as another wave of tears comes crashing down. This time, you don’t hold them back. Alex knows he can’t panic, not when you’re in pain like this, when you need him to help you, but as he looks at your pure state of desperation, eyes glazed with tears, whole body shaking, too deep into subspace for him to just be able to pull you out with one snap of his fingers – Alex’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

“Baby, baby, shit–”

“Daddy, peaches, please – please, don’t want i–it anymore, Daddy, I don’t want it –”

“It’s okay, baby, I got you, I got you –” he says breathlessly, pulling you into his chest as he buries his face in your hair. “Daddy’s got you, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry – Daddy’s sorry, okay? I didn’t – I didn’t mean it, baby, please –”

Never once in his life has Alex stuttered, but right now he can’t care less. Right now all he cares about is you. 

You pant and cry into his chest, soaking his dress shirt with your tears but you’re too far gone to care. The emotions that have been building up all day finally pour out of you. 

Alex holds your shaking hands in his larger ones, rubbing your skin gently with his thumbs, back and forth, back and forth, the familiar rhythm calming you a little, but you’re still sobbing and hiccuping into his chest. Alex is really worried now, the guilt churning in his stomach, regretting his lack of care earlier. He wishes he could take it all back now, he really could. He never meant to hurt you. But it’s too late.

Alex pulls away slightly and you grab onto his shirt in panic, trying to bring him back to you, but he shushes you gently, placing one strong hand under your thighs, the other holding you to his chest. In seconds, he picks you up and walks you to the bed, setting you down carefully by the pillows, lying down and letting you curl into his chest. 

“It’s ok, baby, it’s ok now, I promise.”

You still don’t have the strength to talk, all you can do is let a whimper slip out of your mouth. Alex presses kisses to your hairline, then a kiss  to your nose, then your cheeks. When he pulls back and you look at him, you think you can see tears in his eyes, but you can’t be sure what you're seeing through your own blurry gaze, tears still trickling slowly down your cheeks, so you ignore it. A small voice in the back of your mind tells you that Alex must still be annoyed with you. You bury your head back into his chest. 

“What do you need, baby? What do you need me to do?”

“Just – just hold me, Al, please, sir, need you to hold me.”

Alex pulls back, unwrapping his arms from you, and you look up in horror – you just told him that you need him to hold you, and now he’s moving away? But then you realise he’s hurriedly undoing his shirt buttons and pulling the material off his shoulders, before standing up to pull off his trousers, shoes and socks, until he’s left just in his boxers. 

You sigh in relief. He does know what you want. 

As he pulls you back into his chest, you breathe in his familiar scent - woody, spice, smoke and Alex. You relish in the feeling of his warm skin against yours, letting him wrap his arms around your shaking form. 

“I’m here, love, I’m right here.”

You feel his heartbeat thud in time with yours, fast and rapid from panicking from the use of your safe-word. You must’ve scared the shit out of him, but then again, he scared the shit out of you too. 

You two stay like that for a moment. Head on his chest and arms wrapped around his torso, and the heat radiating from his body calms you down to a different level you can’t quite put your finger on, but it’s calming and it's Alex and that’s all that matters. 

“You okay now, baby?” His deep voice snaps you out of your headspace and you feel his large hand carefully threading through  your hair. “Can you take deep breaths for me, darling? Can you do that?”

You slowly peel your head away from his chest. You’re calm now but still hiccuping from the sobs earlier, so Alex takes a hold of your hands in his, engulfing them whole in his palms. 

“Okay. Take deep breaths with me, alright? You follow me, hm?” Then he sees that familiar glint in your eyes when it takes a second for you to nod and it shows that you’re still deep in subspace. Alex sighs softly. “Baby. Can you hear me, baby?”

You only nod again, eyes feeling droopy and heavy, and Alex frowns.

“What do you need to do?”

“Deep breaths, daddy.”

“That’s right, good girl, you take deep breaths with daddy, alright?” He praises you in a soft voice, a small smile creeping its way on his face to know that you’re still listening despite your head being somewhere else. “Alright, let’s do this. You ready?”

Seeing your small smile as you nod is enough to bring reassurance to Alex. 

“Inhale,” he says, and you obey, taking in a deep breath. “Exhale.”

You breathe out slowly, still hiccuping, but no longer shaking. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well.” Alex’s small smile encourages you to keep going, breathing in and out. Alex grabs your hand and splays it flat against his chest, so you feel his chest rising and falling in tandem with yours. “I’m right here, yeah? Right here.”

Alex lets you breathe slowly with him for a few minutes. He’s no longer panicking, but he is worried – how did he manage to misread the situation so badly? It’s not like he hasn’t ‘punished’ you before and you’d both agreed before that it was something you both enjoyed. But today went wrong, badly wrong. 

Now the fog is clearing from your head a little, each deep breath in and out helping ground you a little, along with the feel of Alex’s hot skin pressed against yours. You feel a rumble in his chest as he speaks.

“Baby? You back with me yet?”

“Yeah, yeah,  I think so.” You look at him the best you can while your bodies are still squashed together. His face looks pained, the stress lines on his forehead more pronounced than usual, his eyes dull. 

“Al?”

“Yes, darling?” He knows what’s coming.

“Why–” You have to stop and take in another deep breath. “Why did you act like that before?”

Alex sighs and rubs a hand over his face. 

“I’m so sorry, baby, I really fucked up, I really did. I saw you talking to that guy, the one that you used to go out with and I just –”

Oh.

Ryan, that guy. He approached you earlier in the hallway to ask for your opinions about his paper, and you didn’t think twice of agreeing. He’s a nice guy, really, and you respect him for that. But you still can’t ignore the fact that he still tries to shoot his shot with you despite turning him down several times.

You two shared a past, sure. You agreed to go out with him several times in your first year, but only because you were naive and desperate to experience what going out with somebody feels like, and Ryan was the first ever guy to make that dream of yours come true. But one thing led to another, you realised that you two just aren’t… compatible.

You didn’t have anyone after Ryan, not until Alex came in the picture. 

You respectfully broke whatever was happening with Ryan then, but even now he still struggles to hide his feelings whenever you’re near – and really, you’re flattered. Even though he knows that there’s no chance of getting back together with you, he still tries. 

Like earlier, for example.

He ran into you in the hallway, arm around your shoulder and bodies close together. He was showing you his paper and asked for your opinions, and you really didn’t think much of his gestures other than being friendly. Ryan was always like that, touchy with everyone, and you aren’t an exception.

“You really outdid yourself with this one, Ry,” you had smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he held up the papers in front of you.

“Thanks. I learned from the best, you see.”

His fingers went to pinch your cheek lightly and you froze. Not because of the action, but because in the corner of your eye, you saw Alex standing still outside of his classroom, hands inside his pocket and staring directly at the two of you.

You couldn’t see his face or his expression so you didn’t think much of it, but if you were to see it, you would’ve known that his face held a snarl and he was fighting every urge to stalk towards you and pulled you away from Ryan’s grip.

Disgust, is one way to put it – what Alex was feeling in that moment. Disgust, then anger. He was already pissed about certain things; the amount of essays he had to mark and pressure on him from the governor’s board, and seeing you getting smooched at by another guy made him want to bash someone’s head on the wall.

Specifically, Ryan’s head.

But then again, Alex is a teacher, and Ryan is a student – so are you, but you’re not just any student – and he can’t really pull a student aside and whack him on the head for flirting with his fucking girlfriend.

You realise now what had happened, though, you just wish that Alex would’ve told what the problem was earlier rather than making you figure it out yourself. 

“But, Al, we were just talking about homework, and you know what he’s like, so touchy with everyone. You know I wouldn’t ever–”

“I know, love, I know you wouldn’t, but I just saw it and it went straight to my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I just got so…so angry. I shouldn’t have, I know, but I did. And then I was so caught up in my own emotions, I didn’t see how uncomfortable you were. I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

He buries his face into your neck, letting out a strangled sob. You run your hand through his hair soothingly, before tugging it a little to get him to look at you. His gaze meets yours and you know then that he really is sorry, you can see it from the pain in his eyes.

“It’s ok,” you whisper, Alex goes to protest but you place a finger on his lips, shushing him. “Honestly. It’s ok now. I can’t say I haven't ever felt that way watching you talk to other girls, so I know how you felt. But please just. Don’t do that again. Be so dismissive. I hated it.”

“I know, I realise that now, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Ever. I’m sorry.”

You chuckle quietly. “You’re gonna have to stop apologising at some point, you know? I forgive you.”

Alex gives a small smile and you’re relieved to see his eyes have brightened a little. “Can I make it up to you another way instead?” His hand reaches up to stroke through your hair gently, teasing out some of the tangles and smoothing them down. 

You reach up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I can think of many, many ways that you can make it up to me, don’t worry about that.”

You both giggle, Alex’s hands moving down to your sides to tickle you playfully, but you slap his chest gently before it can go too far. 

“None of that now, I just want to cuddle.” You pout at him, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“That I can do, darling.” Alex murmurs with a smile, pulling you back into his chest with strong arms and tangling your legs together. He pulls the blanket up over the both of you, making sure you’re tucked in comfortably.

Alex hooks his chin over your shoulder and you  nuzzle happily  into his neck with a whine. All is well again.

thanks for reading, hope yous enjoyed :)

[stupidvillainousposts]

I Giveth to You, Werewolf Ford Being Yelled at By Children!

Fidds, using a wet cloth to clean Stan's wounds: There ya go, hon. Just a little bit cleaner and we can get some coverin' on it, 'kay?

Stan: *Groans and Nods* Just get it over with.

Fidds: *Sighs* Oh, my poor darlin'.

Tate, entering the room: Uh, Pop? Stan? I think one o' the pups got too rowdy with a squirrel or somethin'. There's a whole lotta blood on the... walls...

Fidds: Now, Tate, I know this looks bad, but I promise Ford didn't mean nothin' by it.

Tate: Wait, Stanford did this? Stan, yer own brother did this t' ya?!

Stan, tiredly: It's Werewolf Law, kid. The stronger pack members are allowed to fight for the position of pack leader. Besides, he coulda banished me, then I'd really be S.O.L.

Tate, seething: He shouldn'ta fought ya at all! What kinda siblin' does somethin' like that?!

Stan, attempting to sit up: One acting on instinct; don't get so worked up, I'm feeling- FUCK! *Falls Flat Onto the Bed in Pain* Shit, guess I forgot about the bites.

Tate: *Turns and Storms Away to Find Ford*

Fidds: TATE!

Stan: Let him go, Honey Bunches. Hearing Ford get snapped at by a kid actually sounds kinda funny.

Fidds: *Groans* Stanley...

-Downstairs-

Tate: *Sees Ford Talking to Soos and Wendy About Cleaning the Lobby* YOU!

Ford, under his breath: Ah, crap. This kid? *To Tate* What do you want? I've got important matters to take care of.

Tate: Yeah, like pretending all o' this damage wasn't yer fault!

Wendy: Whoa, dude; that's a bit of a huge assumption.

Tate: Not an "assumption" if Stan himself told me what happened! You and yer stupid "Werewolf Law"! It's just an excuse t' attack Stan at his lowest and you know it!

Wendy: Tate, what are you talking about?

Soos: Yeah, little dude, those are big accusations.

Tate: Ya think I'm lyin'?! Go upstairs and see fer yerself! My dad can barely sit up without bein' in pain! Got blood runnin' down his neck and stainin' Pop's hands! And all so what? Ya could take head o' the family?!

Ford: Tate, if it was that simple of a construct I wouldn't have had to do what I did.

Wendy: Wait, what? So you did hurt Stan?

Tate: YES! Nearly killed him!

Ford: THAT BITE BARELY NICKED HIS JUGULAR! *Realizes His Mistake and Groans* No, I didn't mean- Just, let me explain-

Wendy: Explain what?! How upset you are that he's still alive?!

Ford: How dare you?! I would NEVER-

Tate: Try and kill yer brother? Tell that to the one who's bleedin' out rivers o' blood!

Fidds: Children, that is ENOUGH!

Tate and Wendy: *Go Silent*

Fidds: Soos, take the children outside so they can calm down.

Soos: But Dad Fidds-

Fidds: Jesus Ramirez, do NOT make me ask ya again!

Soos, surprised but understanding: Yeah. Y-yeah, okay. Sorry. *Leads Tate and Wendy Outside*

Fidds, once the other are outside: Look, I don't want anymore fights breakin' out, so as long as ya can learn t' walk away when the kids provoke ya fer any reason, ya can stay here.

Ford: What? This is my pack, you can't just-

Fidds: *Turns Into a Giant Bat and Screeches*

Ford, cowering slightly: Uh, yeah, uh-huh. Got it. Loud and clear.

Fidds, returning to his normal form: Good. Now go find some supplies and clean the lobby. I don't like lookin' at my own fiancé's blood splatterin' the walls.

[dracarialove]

Love Letter

Shadow gets injured after a treasure hunt and accidentally upsets Rouge when trying to banter with her. When she brings him to her club to rest, he decides to make it up to her by writing a heartfelt letter.

Ship: Shadow/Rouge

*Originally published October 23rd, 2024

A/N: This is a oneshot originally written for the Shadougetober event; something short and sweet for my favorite prompt!

Echoing footsteps bounced a steady melody off the stone walls of a cave. A pair of silver heels clicked below their light-footed owner, louder from their shape than the muffled clunks of heavier skates just a few yards behind.

It was Rouge the Bat leading a walk through a rocky tunnel, her arms occupied by two bags filled with jewels; her body language spirited as wide hips swayed with every step and ivory curls bounced above her shoulders.

Shadow the Hedgehog trailed her backside at a casual pace, looking ahead at the opening where they'd entered the cave, and at the grassy plains that awaited their return from a treasure hunt.

Rouge's voice echoed when she spoke, "You know, I could use some help organizing all these gems. How about you come over after my club closes and we can spend some time getting them sorted? It'll be relaxing."

Shadow thought about her proposal, his interest in organizing jewels less than a whisper; but quiet time spent with his teammate was becoming more and more enjoyable. He felt a warm glimmer in his chest at the idea.

"Sure," he answered, glancing over her form as she gleefully walked ahead.

His eyes left her when falling pebbles caught his attention – at the mouth of the cave, they tumbled from above. When a larger rock fell to the ground, he got a bad feeling, and quickened his pace. Rouge noticed it too, speeding up as well.

"Rocks falling," she said over her shoulder. "Not a good sign!"

Then they heard the rumble of stone shifting along the earth. There were boulders piled above the entrance of the cavern, but they'd been stagnant when the pair first went in.

Now it seemed they were loosened from their rest and were rolling down the slope; they would fall off the cave's roof at any moment. Shadow looked up and saw the rounded edge of a boulder creeping into view past the stone opening. They wouldn't make it if he didn't speed ahead.

So, the hedgehog broke into a sprint, and as Rouge was nearing the exit – the sliding rock on a clear path to flatten her – Shadow positioned both hands to grab her lower back, lifting the bat enough to shove her more quickly out of the cave.

He jumped ahead after her, but making sure his partner got out first had slowed him down. As he was lunging forward, the boulder crashed down onto his legs, pinning Shadow under its weight.

"Aghh!" he shouted, gritting his teeth and looking back at the big round stone that immobilized him.

Rouge had stumbled onto the grass after Shadow's push, dropping the bags of jewels and scattering them across the ground. She was standing up when she heard the crash behind her, and Shadow's subsequent scream made her turn around in a panic.

"Shadow!" she yelled, and ran to his side, even as smaller boulders rolled off the hill to the left and right.

Shock and concern covered her face as she switched her focus from the speedster to the stone. She slipped both hands beneath it and groaned as she tried to lift it up. Shadow was grunting under his breath, but the pain wasn't so great as to make him scream again.

"Damnit!" Rouge blurted with a huff, backing away from the rock. "I'll have to cut this thing into smaller chunks. Cover your head in case pieces go flying!"

He did, draping one arm above him while she reeled back. The jewel hunter spun into a tornado of swift, powerful kicks strong and sharp enough to crack the boulder apart. Once it was in more manageable segments, she rushed to throw the battered chunks off of Shadow's body.

He moved his legs with little effort, albeit slowly as an ache permeated his muscles; then he let out a sigh. "It's a good thing I'm so resilient. Otherwise, that could've caused permanent damage. We should be more careful."

He didn't bring up the worst of permanent damage that could've been done – damage to Rouge, if she'd been the one crushed. Considering the injury to his legs only meant he would have to take it easy for a few days, he felt the responsibility to take hits like that, especially if it was in Rouge's place.

"Well, I think I've got enough jewels to keep me satisfied a while," said the lady, wrapping her hands around his figure to help him stand. "So, we can take a good long break from treasure hunting."

Shadow rested one arm in the crook of her neck, letting Rouge hold him up while he felt out the remaining strength of his legs. He was fine enough to walk with her assistance, and he helped her to gather the gems back into their bags before they set a course for home.

As they crossed the plains, the spy looked back at the cave they were leaving behind, then let out a soothing breath and offered Shadow an uneven smile.

"Nice job pushing me out of there. Even if it meant I got grass stains all over me. Your heroism really comes out sometimes."

"Hm, yeah," he mumbled. "Well, I had to if I wanted us to actually escape."

"Right." Her voice had a playful tinge, trying to lighten the mood and maybe distract him from his injury. "Still! That's our dynamic, isn't it? You save me, I save you."

"I suppose so. Although, if we could cut down on needing to save each other, that would be nice. Risking our lives should be a rarity, not a pastime."

"Okay, fair enough. But, you haven't thanked me yet for helping you out back there."

Shadow looked into her eyes, then cast his gaze forward again. "Thanks. Just remember this the next time you want to go excavating."

Rouge scoffed. "That's what you focus on? You know, you could've complimented me on my skill in freeing you. Without me, you would've been trapped under that rock forever!"

"Never mind that without you, I wouldn't have been there at all." He flashed a smirk when she pouted at him. "But I suppose you evened the score – if I'm being generous."

Rouge's teal eyes rolled and her voice lost its charming quality. "Alright, Shad. I carved up that boulder expertly, but you still can't just give me a compliment after all this time, can you?"

The colder tone she spoke with forced the realization on him that he'd offended her. His natural frown deepened into a glower and he tried to recover by responding with, "Yes I can. You did help me out back there. You know I respect you for that, right?"

He caught her eyes quickly rolling again, the irritated woman clearly not impressed by his attempt to salvage goodwill from the flippant banter that'd turned his quip into an insult.

She didn't reply further, and their conversation trailed off into nothingness following his claim. They walked through the plains, Rouge helping him to stay upright while simultaneously managing to lug her bags of precious jewels.

At the wordless acknowledgement that he'd misspoken at some point, Shadow let the silence be, in turn refusing to prod at the annoyance she was carrying.

He hadn't realized that neglecting to indulge her desire for a compliment would genuinely upset her; his past attempts at teasing had been more successful.

But maybe he was teasing her too much lately, falling behind on showing true appreciation for her talents. And maybe that was catching up with him now.

***

The wounded hedgehog was brought to Club Rouge, where his partner would let him rest even if she was a bit miffed at him. Before they went inside the bustling business, Shadow looked into her eyes earnestly and spoke a thought he'd been mulling over the whole way back.

"Thank you for carrying my weight." He wanted to add more, but his pride was nudging in, getting in the way of putting proper emphasis behind his thanks. He glanced down at the bags of gems in Rouge's grasp and raised a hand towards them. "I can bring these in, if you want; lighten your load after our long walk."

The bat turned her body, pulling the shiny haul away from his reaching fingers, and one brow curved downwards. Thankfully, her tone was more agreeable than he expected when she said, "You don't have to do that! It's a gentlemanly gesture, but I'll carry the babies myself."

Her eyes were friendly, but the smile she gave him was subtle and trepidatious – full of tension that still signaled she wasn't fully over her frustration with him.

He relented, though, not wanting to push her, and instead tried to avoid leaning as much of his weight on her while she walked through Club Rouge.

On the second floor, they entered the private lounge, where the jewel hunter placed the bags on a table and flew up to the ceiling to open her attic door.

"You can relax in my loft for now," she said, pushing a wooden slab inward to open a rectangular entryway. "Stay as long as you need to heal those legs. The spare bed is still set up."

Gazing up at her, Shadow felt a flutter in his stomach. Something about the way she offered her personal space so casually made his heart warm.

It spoke to the closeness of their relationship, and a wave of graciousness passed over him at the fact that she had kept her spare bed available; as if she anticipated him needing it again soon.

It was nice to have an open bed where he was always welcome, something Shadow was focusing on more now that he fixated on Rouge's kindness. She was never so generous with anyone else.

"I don't have to rest right now," he claimed, then gestured at the gems when she looked down at him. "I can still help you sort these."

A little chuckle left her lips and she descended to the floor. "Don't worry about that, hun. I'll handle it." She stepped behind him and hooked her arms under his, lifting her friend off the ground before he could protest.

"You just lie down and take a minute for yourself," she told him, bringing him into her loft space.

She set him down and offered a lingering gaze, as if considering the conversation they should be having. But Shadow didn't know quite how to respond, and when he said nothing, she left the attic, closing the heavy hatch behind her.

It was after she was gone that Shadow reflected on his actions – as well as his inaction – and considered the way he'd spoken to her outside the cave.

Sitting on the spare bed, he thought back to the roll of her eyes, the tense pull of her lips, and the annoyance in her voice. He started to feel bad about what he'd said, and began regretting that he'd chosen to banter with her instead of donating the complimentary words she deserved.

He sorted through his thoughts to admit to himself that there were too many things being left unsaid. And he decided he needed to make it up to her somehow, in a deeply genuine way.

***

The next day met Rouge with a strange loneliness. When she woke up, she looked to the bed Shadow was assumed to still be sleeping in, only to see it empty. It was made up, the blanket laying neatly on top, as if he had gotten up much earlier than her and tidied it before leaving.

Rouge nibbled uneasily on her bare lip at what it meant: either Shadow would be gone from the club, having walked out without saying goodbye; or he would still be around, and she would have to face him.

Rouge disliked both ideas, not wanting her partner to avoid her, but also feeling a linger of annoyance. Usually, the hedgehog's inability to toss a compliment her way didn't bother her. She knew he was no-nonsense most of the time – closed off.

But there were also times when she thought he was letting her in, and hiding less from the connection they had. She didn't like being reminded that there still might be a long way to go in that regard.

She left her bed and dressed herself up for the day, then decided she needed a distraction from the off-feeling the morning had brought her. She wouldn't go looking for Shadow; if he was still there, they would cross paths at some point.

Instead, she turned her musings to the stash of jewels she had yet to finish sorting. If there was one thing that could take her mind off of her uncomfortable emotions, it was precious gemstones.

But when she left her loft space, she found her attention unintentionally drawn as she descended elegantly into her private lounge.

There was something resting on the indigo loveseat – a white envelope with a heart-shaped splotch of red ink stamped on its fold. Bewildered, Rouge picked up the flimsy paper and felt the beat in her chest quicken.

The bat figured it must be from Shadow if it was in her personal lounge, though she couldn't pinpoint why there would be a heart on it if he had left it for her. The envelope alone would do; would be standard for someone as business-oriented as him.

She didn't want to think it might be a sign of something deep or emotional – something she would want from him – because she didn't want to disappoint herself. The stamp could mean nothing at all.

She hesitated to open the envelope, at first unsure if she wanted to deal with the contents inside. But, she decided she might as well get it over with, and so unstuck the fold of the envelope, opening it to pull a letter from the slit.

With stiff posture and a cautious expression on her face, she began reading the words that boasted Shadow's bland, neat handwriting.

Rouge,

Forgive me for not being able to say this in person, although I certainly wanted to. Yesterday, I failed to acknowledge your skill through a lack of grace in putting my thoughts into words. So I'm writing them down, with time to think, and the conviction that this is what I really want to say. This might not sound like me, but know that my heart is more articulate than my mouth.

Her shoulders relaxed a bit with the realization that Shadow probably wrote the letter to apologize, and maybe even make up for the praise he failed to give her before. Her eyebrows smoothened as she continued reading.

Saying I respect you wasn't a good enough compliment. It's more than that – I adore you. You're the best company I've ever had, and I feel a true friend in you. Stronger than that, I feel a connection between us that I believe could only be shared by fate-bound souls. It may sound dramatic, but it's how I really feel about you.

A smile cracked across her muzzle. It wasn't an "I'm sorry" type of apology, but she knew this acknowledgement of his mistake held the same message. Rouge had always felt her sincerest bond was with Shadow, so it meant everything to her that he was admitting it as well.

It wasn't dramatic; it was sweet, and thoughtful… even a bit romantic. And as she kept scanning shimmering teal eyes across the letter, she found herself more and more surprised by the words the Ultimate Lifeform had written himself.

We were meant to be in each other's lives. I wouldn't have anyone else in this world as my partner above you. And I'd even go as far as to say I love you. Though, understand I may never be able to say it to your face. Just know through this letter that it's true.

I love you

- Shadow

Widened with awe, her eyes lingered on the closing sentiment. Three sweet words hanging above the mark of her sender; the name that was signed by hand with a bit more character than the rest of the letter.

Together, they suggested a permanent change to the things Rouge knew about Shadow. His deeper truths were always a mystery, but she never expected this to be one of them.

'I love you'?

She'd never heard him say it to anyone or anything. She couldn't remember if the word 'love' had ever left his lips at all. Of course, it still wasn't being said – it was written, sitting printed clear as day on a sheet of paper addressed to her.

Endeared by his heartfelt words, Rouge hugged the letter to her chest, forgiving his silly mistake and feeling she'd been a bit petty about it. She forgot at times that Shadow still had trouble expressing himself, and it reminded her that he'd come a long way already.

Clearly he thought highly of her, even if he couldn't verbalize it as well. And she cherished the explanation, the penned delve into her partner's emotions; his beliefs; his standing with her. His soul was deeper than she knew. It was beautiful. He was beautiful – poetic.

'I love you'

He'd never be able to say it to her face. She expected that. And she accepted it so readily because she didn't know how she would react if he ever did admit it out loud.

It was a surprising but welcome confession, one she couldn't help but blush at when she considered the romantic undertones of the letter and the red heart stamped on its envelope.

It brought out a realization within herself. She loved him too, in a way more than mere friendship could convey; in the way that made her heart flutter at the thought of him.

She was glad he seemed to have taken his leave, not sure if she could handle looking Shadow in the eyes after reading such a vulnerable message.

It also gave her time – and privacy – to mull over his words some more, and absorb the plain but pretty pen strokes into her memory as a new step being taken for their relationship.

Shadow had to know those three words couldn't be taken back. And they were written in permanent ink. He meant it.

Rouge held out the paper again, her smile so naturally wide that she couldn't suppress it even if she wanted to. In the quiet luxury of her private lounge, she sat on the loveseat to read Shadow's letter again, blissfully consuming the sentimental heft of his tender admission a second time.

[spacebaby1]

enemies to lovers with Ran Haitani tenjiku

Where the reader is the typical delegate or group representative who seems to be the description of perfection, excellent grades and an attitude that teachers love but this is only a facade that hides a truly rebellious and disastrous girl. Ran meets her and after totally frustrating her they begin to realize that only they truly know each other for who they really are and not just appearances.

Ohhh, I like this! Enjoy! (DON'T TRY THIS AT HOMR OR ANYWHERE) T.W: controlling parents?

Be perfect...

Be perfect...

Be perfect...

The words that You remind yourself every morning as you'd get ready for the school, eat breakfast, and get to school. As if not just last night your parents were screaming and yelling at you for randomly cutting most if your hair, you mother said that she hated your hair and you father kept yelling about how disappointed he was that you are trying to rebel against his rules. Your mother wasted no time into dragging you to the beauty salon to get long extensions, and you just sat there boiling in anger.

When you got home, your father had made a deal with you, "You follow my rules, you will go to that school tomorrow, and you will be the best of the students, unlike the last school. And if you do that till you graduate, then you can do whatever you want with your life, but till then, you have to be a perfect child of mine."

First day at school; you made sure to look as neat as you can and sat in the front seat. And for the next semester you won every teachers respect; it was a nightmare that you had to pretend to be a nice, soft spoken, and always smiling student when deep down your hands ache to slap some of the boys or pull the other annoying girls hair.

What you did after school was none of your parents' business; as long as they don't find out. With your baseball bat in hand, you walked in the dark alleyway and cigarettes dangling from your lips. You sighed, taking a puff before aiming the bat on the brick wall, and kept pushing your anger out of the wall. The pain of bat bouncing as it hit the wall felt euphoric in your hands, but you didn't stop and kept slamming the bat again and again. "What's the walls crime?"

You turned to find a boy; was a bit taller and had half black and yellow hair. He had a soft, lazy smile on as you tried to make out his features more in the dark. He, on the other hand, wasn't able to fully notice your face because of your hat covering your face, "Mind your own business." Was all you said before walking past him as he just stood there looking at you disappear in the busy streets.

The next day was boring in school as always until you heard your classmate girl tap your shoulder, "someone from the other class is asking for the teachers papers. he's just outside the door." You nodded before gathering the papers and headed towards the door. You gasped slightly when you noticed the boy standing there was the same boy from last night. He turned to look at you and smiled, "Haitani Ran, from class 5. The teacher said, You have the papers?" You thought he probably didn't recognise you, so you nodded and handed him the papers rushing back inside the class. And for the next month you kept running into Ran between classes and breaks, he seemed very sweet and never get angry at any of the students and would just laugh it off If someone said something that should upset him.

One night you were in the living-room when your father came home angry immediately lashing his anger at you and calling you names because you forgot to put your wet umbrella away from the entrance and you being yourself lost your temper lashing at your father which made him raise his hand on you, you fell on the ground holding your lips before yelling curs words at him before storming out of the house, and could still hear your mothers calling for you to stop but you just needed to leave.

You've done everything they had asked you, and yet it was still not enough, which made you wanna piss them off. At this point, you didn't even care if you cased trouble and got caught because you wanted to get caught.

The rain had soaked you fully as you kept throwing punching after punching on the bridge wall because you've made the mistake to not grab your bat and beat those bully's you'll find at the park right now. "Do you punch for a hobby?" You turned to find Ran standing under the umbrella with the same soft smile then you realised that he saw you now, the real you; hair in messed bun, red eyes, dressed not so neat and soaking in the rain. You weren't the perfect student he saw every day at school. "You'll hurt your hand and catch cold -"

"Piss of nerd,"

He laughed, moving closer, "I'm as much of a nerd as you. Must be tiring to pretend to be that neat." You don't know why, but his words made you tear up from where you stood, and he just moved his umbrella over your head, "your hairs soaked." You shook your head, "I fucking hate these extensions!" You yelled ready to pull on them but Ran grabbed your wrist. "You'll yank your head off, want me to take them off? I'm good with hair. See?" He pointed at his long perfect hair which made you laugh. "What do you say, wanna key some cars before we get those extensions off?" You laughed and he joined you. You did exactly that.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Tess' Sharpuary - 7. Quidditch

A mishap on the pitch leaves the potions master with a broken nose. The one who caused the accident is more than apologetic though.

chapter specific tags: slice of life, fluff

relationships: aesop sharp & reader

7. Quidditch (1k)

tw: none

"Professor Sharp?" came from the door of his office. A young woman clad in Ravenclaw robes stood there, looking sheepish and awkward, her left hand wrapped in bandages, and in her right a satchel of some kind. The potions master didn’t have to ask why her hand was bandaged - it was the same reason his nose bore several scratches as well as some bruising. He gave her a smile: "Ah. Miss (L/N), do come in. What brings you here today?"

She did not come in. 

Instead, she shifted her weight from one foot onto the other: "I ... I wanted to apologise again. For what happened on the pitch." Aesop’s smile didn’t falter, though it got slightly wry. "Hardly the first time I had my nose broken, Miss. Knowing my luck, it wasn't the last time either,” which was true enough, criminals used to be quite fond of hurling heavy objects towards his face, but Aesop always managed to dodge them. However, those of muggle or mixed background actually occasionally resorted to throwing hands at him, and he had not always anticipated it.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I feel terrible,” the girl went on still, finally walking into his office slowly with her head hanging down, “That one time I play an actual match, standing in for Everett, and I send a bloody bludger straight at you!"

"Calm down, miss,” the potions master attempted to placate her. It wasn’t often he did so when it came to his students. Sure, he did help calm down a few snotty first-years after they got upset about ruining their potion, telling them they were more than welcome to try again and learn from their mistakes, but he always did so with a long-trained degree of moderation and impersonality. Not with this young woman, though. He wasn’t quite able to be impersonal with her… “It's Quidditch. It's a dangerous game. In your position as a beater, you did what you had to do in order to get that bludger away from your teammates, which is what you're supposed to do. If anything, it's my own stupid fault, for not having reacted quickly enough... Maybe I'm losing my touch…” which was maybe true, but then again he was rather distracted by seeing her effortlessly gliding through the air, cheeks flushed by the cool wind, strands of hair escaping from where they were secured, her clever eyes skimming the skies for bludgers. Maybe if he too looked out for the iron balls instead of staring at her… 

“Well, even if that was the case, I think your action following the strike more than made up for it. How's the hand?"

The young woman seemed a little calmer, now that it was obvious he was not mad at her one bit. She came forward and extended her arm to him: "It's... A little tender, but I'm fine."

The potions master took hold of it gently, prodding at her wrist and forearm, careful not to cause any pain. The area was still slightly swollen, but the Ravenclaw didn’t even flinch when he squeezed her limb. "You had that bat in your hand, and you go and stick your other hand in the bludger's path instead,” he raised his eyebrows at her with a facetious smirk.

She blushed with embarrassment and squirmed a bit, her arm still held by her professor. She soon recovered, however, and spoke up quite confidently: "I'm glad that I did, though, it softened the blow to your face."

"And resulted in both of us getting a lecture by our dear Nurse Blainey, instead of just one,” he finished for her, finally letting go of her arm, and already missing the warmth he felt underneath those bandages. “As I said miss, there's nothing to forgive, I am not cross with you, and I do not blame you for anything."

"I still feel awful, though…,” she insisted, toying with the strap of the satchel she was holding, “I know Nurse Blainey said that your nose was fine, and the scratches would heal soon, but I brought you a cooling pad in case it got worse, and also some treats from the house elves."

She then proceeded to pull various sweet and savoury treats from the satchel, more than it could possibly carry at first glance, as well as the promised cooling pad and a few healing potions obviously made by her. It was a little funny, Aesop decided. He was, after all, Hogwarts’ potions master, and yet this young woman was bringing him her own potions to use. He didn’t mind doing so, of course, he knew she worked meticulously on them, and that they’d be just as effective as his own Wiggenwelds. Still, quite funny. Before he knew it, his desk was almost entirely covered with delicious-looking foods.

"... Is that what you call 'some'?” he asked with an unbelieving chuckle, “That looks like half the kitchens, miss!"

The young woman stroked at her arm sheepishly: "I tried to tell them I only needed a little something, but the moment I mentioned they're for you as an apology for having broken your nose, they went absolutely mental, and wouldn't let me leave without this whole lot!" Aesop knew the elves were very grateful creatures - the smallest piece of kindness was enough to win them over. Which unfortunately spoke a lot about the wizarding society when it came to the treatment of servants. Aesop having the simple courtesy to ask for things with a ‘please’, and accept them with a ‘thank you’ was enough for the house elves to decide that ‘master is too kind, way too kind’, and they always went above and beyond to serve him. 

"Well, pull up a chair, miss,” he decided finally, eyeing the impromptu feast. After all, the office was a lot less crowded than the Great Hall, not to mention here he could actually hold a conversation while eating without having to shout over a huge room full of teenagers, so why not use the opportunity?  “There's no way I'd be able to eat this all on my own, even if I didn't want to later get myself back to my rooms.” With a flick of his wand, he summoned two bottles of Butterbeer he kept in the office for the two of them to have with their dinner.

He gave her a mischievous smile then: “You've got some nice things here, though... Might have to get my nose broken again sometime."

---

Thank you for reading!

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

[limbuscompanysituations]

(post canto VI) Some angsty stuff, like Ishmael being upset because Heathcliff acts totally different, all in all mainly missing the deep friendship that has started to form between them, some longing for a feeling she can't quite explain. She wishes to help him but doesn't know how to approach him properly ww

He changed.

It's normal for sinners to experience sudden, drastic changes; be it either in opinions, values or goals. Through the entirety of a bough retrieval mission, they are forced to revisit their own life stories. Their emotions change, their thoughts change, their hearts change. They change.

This change, however, is most unnatural; she would risk calling it unnerving.

He's always at a corner, doing something to his bat. Ishmael thought it would be a matter of waiting a couple days. She decides to leave him to it. Their stay at the Wuthering Heights was confusing, with a lot of it vanishing from their minds. It was clear there was something she missed here.

She's still expecting that the camaraderie that had blossomed between them would lead Heathcliff to tell her what was up. Instead, all she got was a man who was a shadow of himself. Ishmael can't handle it anymore, so she goes ahead and confronts him about it.

He iss still modifying his bat, bowing over it and completely focused on the task at hand.

"What's your problem?" She asks. It takes a minute or so for Heathcliff to slowly raise his head and look at her. It took him another half minute for him to really look at her. It's like he's deep underwater.

"What d'ya want?" He asks back. She frowns.

"So this is how it's gonna be? Hiding at corners, sanding that damned bat over and over and... carving? What happened to you? It's like... some ghost snatched the soul from inside your body."

He flinches at the word "ghost".

"Catherine." He speaks in a barely audible whisper.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, thought so." He sighs and goes back to his task. Ishmael grits her teeth, considering whether or not she'd get scolded for beating the shit out of him then and there.

"The name doesn't ring any bells to you, or anybody, for that matter. That means I still... have much to do." He quietly explains.

"You could start with growing a spine." She growls, "And tell me what the fuck happened to you." The next words she speaks hurt her more than anything, "You used to trust me."

Heathcliff pauses, shut his eyes and presses his lips into a thin line.

"Yeah I... I used to... Think many things before." His voice is weak, cracking and drifting away at the end, "And you're right. My soul was stolen, snatched out of my bones. I'm hollow, pumpkin." He chuckles, "Hollow like... birds' bones, I guess."

And for the first time in weeks, a little bit of that grief started showing through the cracks. Their stay at Wuthering Heights was brief and chaotic, but she remembers one thing clearly: the moment his mind broke, his insanity took over and he became not a friend but a foe; overcome with pain beyond what a human could bear.

"Don't call me that." She replies, "Not when you're like... this."

"Aight, Ishmael. D'ya want anything else?" He doesn't look at her.

"I want you to come back." It doesn't take a heartbeat before she says these words, and then he raises his head to look at her again, "However long it takes. I'm waiting, you stupid piece of shit. Waiting for the moment you want to tell me what the hell happened to you. I'm waiting."

Heathcliff stares at her, wordless and exhausted.

"I'm waiting." She reassures him, and turns her back, ready to walk away.

"Thanks, ginger. I... may not be all right in the head but... that's much appreciated."

Without any other word, she leavwa him be. Whether it worked or not, only time would tell. Ishmael couldn't do anything but to wait. And if it was necessary, she didn't mind having to knock some sense into him either.

[bruciemilf]

Diana grows up learning the spirit of Themyscira lives in every Amazon. In whatever shape, in whatever form they come.

She's there for every clay forging. She blesses the adorable lump of clay, slowly starting to take shape of something close to a person.

She thinks of Mother's tapestries, the pictures in her books. Of Ares and Zeus, fathers of all fathers. And she thinks who needs Gods when you have sisters?

Sisters accept you and protect you. Sisters are your blood that walks and breaths and laughs. And Diana knows there's tribes that don't accept certain Amazons.

Just because you're born among them doesn't mean you belong.

But for her, it's different. "If they're on the island, they're one of ours. Amazons don't forget their own."

There's a man on the beach shore, with eyes full of sand.

Diana's more curiosity than woman. When her sisters poke at the strange figure with their feet, trying to wake him, or check for life, she simply turns him him to check.

He's young; Hair as darks as nightsky. His face is pale, almost pearly. It reminds her of moonlight, softly spilling down the ocean when it's completely dark.

Her hands wipe away salty water from long, elegant lashes, and looks for a heartbeat down his chest. There's a strange symbol on it. Diana's hands feel like ice.

The Bat makes a noise, a whine, too fragile for a man. But maybe he's more. " We must take him in."

" This is not a place for men."

" No. But it can be a place for brothers."

He's almost frail, wrapped in furs and skins and blankets. His whole body is tense, even in this state of vulnerability. As if he's burdened even in sleep.

But there's names whispered to Diana at night, when she changes sweat soaked shirts, when she tinkers with the belt laid next to him. " Jay. Timmy. Dick. Cass. Duke. Dami."

Perhaps they're his Gods. Or maybe something more important.

When the Bat wakes, he doesn't remember much of anything. He looks at Diana with such wounded eyes, like a beloved deer waiting to feed the tribe and be celebrated for her sacrifice.

The sisters avoid him. Mother knows telling Diana to stay in line would be useless. Besides, she might not be aware of it, but her gaze does soften when he shyly asks for something to read.

He doesn't speak much. Diana does, thought. " Jason, Cass, Dick," she tests the name. So very strange sounding, but comfortable in her tongue. " Are they your lovers?"

The Bat's eyes widened slightly. The mango she brought him fill up his cheeks, making his face round, and her chest warm. " ...No. I don't know what they are but, -- but they're in my heart. They're my loves."

A random flicker of hope passes through her chest.

"Maybe we could go look for them someday. Bring them here."

"Yes," he let's her hand fall in his. They're almost like hers, if not a big broader. Scarred and beaten and cracking. The labor of love. " Maybe we will."

♡♡♡

Jason's body is restless. It's been restless for a year, like a beast getting hunted. Hoping while dying. He's no stranger to that.

" Dick."

His brother's pure sunshine, usually. Or pretends to be. He's got no strength to act anymore. No more power. Gotham is missing its heart.

"I found him."

" Jay, you're upset. I know you are, but,--"

" Dick," He breaths, hard, lungs pumping adrenaline, " When Bruce dies, I'll feel it. I'll bleed all over Gotham again. He's alive. I know he is. And we're going after him."

Dick's voice collapses, in a rare, painful moment of truth. He's not Nightwing, or Batman, or Robin. He's Jason's big brother. He's a legacy of ruin. " You're not the only one who loved him."

"Maybe. But I'm the only one who'll find him. Even if I have to burn my path."

[shinescape]

note: this was supposed to be filled with fluff and kisses but i'm too out of it to make those happen and almost chuck this away in the drafts. but if anyone is curious on what i think about them and kisses *wiggles eyebrow* let me know.

Ours 

it felt as if all eyes were on you when you dashed through the hallways. With your head hanging low, your feet made their way to the club room. For some odd reason, you were embarrassed. Standing outside the door, you were making up scenarios of the people that were inside of the room. 

the what ifs questions were making you stressed out for no reason. The worst that could happen was the boys laughing and making fun of your attempt. letting out a long sigh, you slide the door open and step inside, looking around and spotting the familiar faces staring right back at you. you swore that you heard them talking just minutes ago from the outside. The room was silent the moment you stepped inside. 

You suddenly felt a lump in your throat as if wanting to throw up but you cupped your mouth and forced whatever it was to not come out. Your eyes followed the figure who carefully made his way to you and noticed how worried he looked. "Hey, are you alright?" Mingi's voice had you looking down to the floorboards, shutting your eyes unconsciously afterwards. 

"I'm fine." you croaked out. The unnecessary thoughts were coming again and your body jolted when his hands rested on your shoulders. Mingi called your name and told you to look at him in the softest voice he could muster. when your eyes met with his, a small smile curled up on his face.

"Did everything go okay?" 

"No…it didn't." 

You heard Wooyoung's voice getting closer and instantly buried your face into Mingi's chest to avoid getting bombarded by questions. The former looked at you briefly as he locked the door and walked back to the rest of the group, shrugging when they asked him what was going on. Calming down a bit, you walked hand in hand to the large couch and sat down with Mingi making sure your back was resting on him comfortably. 

You observed the pair of eyes curiously waiting for you to say something. It was funny seeing how quiet and patient they were. "I'm really fine, you guys. Stop looking as if I got dumped or something. You scoffed and continued. "Well indirectly I was." their eyes widened even more and you couldn't help but let out a laugh. A bunch of worrywarts, you thought. 

Seonghwa sat next to you and wiped the tears that trickled down your face which surprised you. He then held your chin and tilted your face upwards, not forgetting to glare at you. "Saying you're fine but tears are coming out of your eyes is not fine at all." 

You said nothing and watched how his eyes flickered as if a thought passed in his mind and the way he gulped before letting you go and patted your head. To you he seemed upset but not entirely at you, it was confusing. 

"So what actually happened?" 

Honestly, you didn't want to talk about the failed confession to your club members who are also the only people you're friends with in this entire place. It doesn't help that Mingi was hugging you and resting his chin on your head while everyone was scattered around watching you with eager eyes. You wondered if they were bothered by his closeness to you but no one seemed to bat an eye and you leaned even further to him as you told them the incident. 

"So basically I didn't confess and I ran away the moment I saw him with someone. I guess I was too late and now he is taken." You gave out a flat smile, trying not to feel the growing pain of seeing your campus crush dating someone all of a sudden when he's been single for months. 

"But it doesn't make sense. You told us he was single two days ago, what is this?!" 

"Calm down San. A lot can happen in two days." Yunho tried to reason but he was actually annoyed at the outcome too. Seeing you sniffling and holding back tears with your half hearted smile hurt him like never before. 

"No, San's right. We should go find him and make him regret not choosing you instead." Your mouth went slightly ajar at Jongho's words and it was the most shocking thing he's ever said in your entire friendship. Yeosang nodded and was ready to make the plan go forth but as you were about to stop them, Hongjoong said it first. 

"Everyone, calm down. Can we just focus on what's going on here rather than whoever that guy is. Clearly someone dear to us is hurt right now and doing rash things like that won't help ease the pain." You smiled knowing how rational Hongjoong is and that the rest would listen well to him. 

"Although I kind of do what to see this dude and make him suffer." His eyes darted to you and chuckled at the horror that painted over your face. He assured you that it won't actually happen and had the others run around the room to make you feel better. 

Now you were scooping ice cream straight from the tub and enjoying it with gummies and other stuff they brought over to you. It wasn't as bad as you had imagined earlier. But something really seemed a little off with them, you just couldn't pinpoint what. Then out of nowhere, Hongjoong yet again said something that got you off guard. 

"That's why I told you to date us. You won't have to go through this stage at all." He shrugged and tossed a chip in his mouth as if he was talking about the weather. "Wait, you mean date one of you or all of you?" You brows furrowed as you tried to process what on earth was going on and how the rest wasn't as shocked as you were with what Hongjoong said. 

"I don't really like sharing but for you, I can try and tolerate these people." Mingi tightened his hold around you as he confessed. 

"What do you mean by these people? You are part of it too." Wooyoung questioned as he glared at Mingi. Yeosang lightly hit his head to make him stop, reminded him that it's about you not them at the moment. 

"I know what you're thinking and yes we do feel that way towards you. But no pressure, whatever your decision is, we can all still be friends." Seonghwa explained. 

You watched as each one of them nodded in agreement at his words and got even more confused. You raked your brains on whatever memories it has of these eight people showing signs of liking you romantically. Slowly you start to realise the things that took place in this club room and occasionally outside of it when you bumped into them. They had been pretty obvious and were so attentive to you but all you saw was that crush of yours. Well this took an unexpected turn.  

"If you want an obvious answer," You turned to Wooyoung who then pointed at Mingi. "He hasn't let you out of his arms since you got here. I'm actually annoyed because I want to hug you too but I let it slide for now." He who was seated on the carpeted floor sighed and leaned back on his arms. While Mingi stayed unbothered and continued to be in the exact same position with you. 

"And honestly, we kind of hoped that you didn't get together with that crush of yours." Yunho chuckled when he saw the disbelief expression on your face right after he spoke. "Petty, I know. But clearly we are all better than him." The room then filled with noise of agreement and claps at his bold statement. 

As you tried to take in all the new information they were throwing at you, Jongho came forward and stood right in front of you with a face you’ve never seen before. His eyes were round, almost innocent but there lies a certain kind of mischief behind them. "I think it’s time we test it out.” 

“Test what out?” you carefully asked, not liking where this was going. 

“Whether or not you actually do have feelings for us but don't realise it.” 

There was only one way and at the thought of it, heat rushed all over your body. There was this sort of tradition among the nine of you. When one of you feels down, the rest of you will start giving kisses to make them feel better. It’s like a group hug but instead kisses. It’s called a kiss attack, named by none other than the kissing monster of the group, Jung Wooyoung. It was absurd really but somehow getting assured and receiving kisses on your cheeks and head was really nice for a change. They don’t mind it either.

Your name being called out from Hongjoong took you out from the short trance. Looking at him, you felt relieved but also a bit pressured at the same time. “Like Hwa said, no pressure.”

With the way one is holding you down and another is mindlessly playing with your hand, another untying your shoelace and even tugging on the thread of your worn out jeans, there was no need to confirm it with a kiss. You won’t know what would happen if you agreed to the idea but then again you were curious. Wondering who actually liked you first and who thought it was totally fine to date you all at once knowing how uncivilised they could be at times. 

Looking each and every one of them right in the eye, you let out a long sigh. Their faces lit up and smiles were formed on their faces. Even the ones who are not into physical affection had sparkles in their eyes. 

“Fine, let's test it out,” the hushed ‘yes’ and ‘finally’ could be heard from both Seonghwa and Wooyoung which made you roll your eyes. “But if I don’t feel anything, we forget this ever happened, got it?"

You weren’t able to see their response due to the fact that San all of a sudden hovered over you. “Oh, we’ll make sure you feel something even a tiny bit."

Mingi's warm fingers that were caressing your front wasn’t helpful either. Nothing was going your way at all. It was as if they made sure you weren’t able to do what you wanted and came running to them for comfort. San leaned closer to your face with those sultry eyes of his making you wish you had said no to all of this. It was a bit too late for regret as the smirk made its way to his face.

So, can I go first?”   

[gendervapor14]

treating myself to some old OP episodes to alleviate the horrors and i can’t resist the urge to ramble about bell-mère’s death a little bit.

so, i will start here, with this iconic moment:

manga readers may notice something right off the bat. “hey, arlong’s not aiming for her head!” yes, in the anime, seems they switched his aim for the heart. i actually prefer this. first of all, that flintlock is huge compared to her, so head or heart, it’s gonna kill her. not a fatality issue. i’m just a huge sap, and i think there’s something more symbolic about him shooting her in the heart for defending her love - her kids. (even tho all of this could have been avoided if she just lied, and then she’d actually be able to keep loving and supporting her kids, but, uh, i digress)

this moment really captured me when i was first watching, because for the first time, one piece truly felt dark. this wasn’t just an upsetting backstory. it had some element of gore here, which i’m not sure would be as effective if he went through with a headshot. they might have censored it a bit more.

more (slightly gruesome) photos and analysis beneath the cut 👀

look at what they got away with here!! this was early one piece mind you, so i feel like things were generally a little cushier? (or maybe that’s just my nostalgia talking XD) but the harsh black and white contrast, the utter silence during this scene, the speed in which this happened! (it was a pain to pause and scrub and get good screenshots, let me add). i will say i’m not up to date with current OP shenanigans, but to me, this seems like one of the most abrupt and brutal deaths in the series. (and this doesn’t even put into account the horrid beating she got beforehand)

there are some nice parallels here between her death and rosinante’s, (most notably her last words being “i love you” to nami and nojiko, and a flintlock as the weapon of choice), but even then, i think this is a bit nastier. seven little bullets in a 10ft tall man is painful, yes, but it wasn’t gruesome, and he managed to cling onto life for a little while afterwards. this was just. bang. done. heart – gone. leaves the viewer totally reeling.

in a way i feel like it’s almost an honor for bell-mère to get such a violent death? okay hear me out i know that sounds crazy. she sacrificed herself for her kids and went out kicking and screaming (or standing solemnly, towards the end). she brought forth such a refreshing take on women in one piece. i mean, let’s not forget this scene:

she was gonna blow his brains out!! zero hesitation!! how many characters in this series, let alone women, would go through something like this? i get that different characters have different honor codes and such, but it was sooo incredibly invigorating to see a woman get her hands dirty like this.

so by that logic, it’s kind of weirdly nice to see her not be treated like a little doll? this is highly speculative though, because i’ve noticed there’s this rather annoying trend where women are used as a moral compass for villains. “oh, look how deplorable arlong is, he did that to a young pretty woman!” we see the same thing with doflamingo, for instance, in his “fight” with viola. “oh how heinous, he threw her to the ground! how disrespectful! she’s just an innocent princess!” yeah, ugh. getting off tangent here

this whole scene set a standard for me, (and hopefully other viewers), who kind of saw the series as a fun lighthearted pirate adventure. yes, there was tragedy and sadness before this arc, before this backstory, but something about this moment in particular made my perception tremble. the bar was raised! a compelling character and backstory can have a truly harrowing ending!! a delightful revelation for me, for whatever reason XD

feel free to chime in if ya got any additional comments or takes on the matter. i don’t think bell-mère gets enough love. if you do wanna chime in, just um. be nice. i’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, okay. and multiple interpretations of these scenes are valid! i’d love to hear ‘em! <3

[imperator-titus]

Be My Juice Box Ch. 6

Please enjoy, this one was very fun to do! Just in time for Halloween!

The party was approaching and Rowan couldn't possibly show up empty-handed. She also couldn't trust that Astarion would have that bit covered.

So, out came the stand mixer. And the decorating supplies. And an order for way too much flour and sugar and eggs.

The night before, she was putting the final touches on some cookies when Astarion came into the kitchen. Focused, she barely registered his presence. He spared her work a passing glance before finding the right bag of blood and throwing it in the warmer.

Leaning with his hip against the counter, he pretended to clean his nails while secretly watching.

“You know, Gale will have all that covered,” Astarion informed her just before the warmer beeped. The blood now at normal body temperature, he punctured the seal and tipped its contents into a wine glass. Sipping his breakfast, he put the rest of the blood back in the warmer to come back for later.

“I want to be a good guest,” Rowan answered, straightening up from her icing endeavors. Arching her back, she stretched out her aches and pains.

Astarion’s eyes lingered, his ears twitched from the little grunts and sighs she made.

“That’s what bottles of wine are for,” he said condescendingly before taking a big gulp of blood.

Rowan didn’t turn around to look at him, instead busying her hands and eyes with her project. Trying to not let her tone betray the tightness in her chest, she asked, “Why are you being mean to me?”

Astarion paused. He could hear her heart rate steadily increase. At first, he’d dismissed it as an effect of his proximity.

“Am I?” 

“I dunno, I just feel like you’re putting down what I’m doing.”

“Well, it’s a bit… silly, isn’t it?” He quickly chugged his ‘wine’ before it got cold again. “He doesn’t need you to make more food. And bats filled with red jam? Really? How pedestrian.”

Rowan’s heart raced so hard that he could hear it pound in his ears. 

Astarion squeezed the rest of the warm blood into his glass and said, “I was just trying to help.”

Rowan didn’t answer. Leaving the empty blood bag on the counter, he turned on his heel dramatically and left the kitchen.

Rowan stared at her work, questions running through her mind. Did she do something wrong or was he just being tetchy? Was she stupid for bothering to do this?

In an attempt to distract from her thoughts, she dealt with the discards of his meal. She hated when he couldn’t be bothered to put the bags in the sterilizer, leaving her to do it.

Actually, she was only upset about it now because she was upset with him. Most of the time, it didn’t bother her at all. 

He even thanked her once, when he was standing at the back door, looking out into the garden as he sipped. Rowan came in to refill her water bottle before bed and just automatically cleaned up his mess. Looking lost in thought, she didn’t say anything so as to not disturb him. 

Without looking at her, he’d said in that lovely voice, “Thank you.” A very simple phrase, but it meant a lot. 

In the morning, there was a loaf of rye bread waiting for her in the kitchen. The good kind, from the really nice bakery that she’d be grateful to get day-olds from. It was even still a little warm…

Helping out, baking, it made her happy, she told herself. If Gale didn’t like it, she’d find something to do with it all. This was between him and her and Astarion didn’t get to ruin it.

Just to reassure herself, she snapped a picture of what she was working on.

>Those bats and pumpkins are adorable! Is that a Beholder cake? Marvelous! You know your classics.

Thank you for the kind words, I thought I would bring them to the party, but now I’m not sure.<

>I would be delighted to have you share them with my guests and me. 

>Why are you unsure? It is a wonderful gesture. I appreciate you taking the time and effort to make something for me.

Rowan debated answering truthfully or just waving it away with general insecurities.

🦇<

>Ah, yes, he can be quite the drama queen, no?

>It was probably the bats.

As it turned out, Astarion always had a little trouble with transformations. It was most likely that he took personal offense to the simple design of a cookie.

Drama queen, indeed. But still, she couldn’t help feeling a little bad, even if she had no clue and maybe he should have explained instead of raining on her parade.

Bolstered by Gale’s kind words, Rowan continued her work with the full intention of bringing it to the party, no matter what Astarion had to say about it.

She would apologize for the tiff. Not for her feelings or defending herself, but for just getting into it with him. 

Even in the kitchen, she could hear the top floor rattle.

Rowan stopped, stock-still, and trained her human ears to pick up any other sounds.

Was he… breaking things? Was he in trouble? Was it some utterly innocent noise that had nothing at all to do with their argument?

It happened again and this time she decided to investigate.

She knocked on his door firmly. “Are you okay? I heard loud noises.”

“I’m fine!” he answered aggressively, although a bit strained.

Rowan stood at the door, because she didn’t rightly believe him. After sighing and telling herself that it couldn’t be helped, she started going back downstairs.

Then it happened again. A loud thump that vibrated the floor, as if something heavy had fallen.

Damn his privacy, she couldn’t ignore this.

She threw open the door to find him sprawled out on the floor.

Bewildered, she wondered aloud, “What the fuck is going on in here?”

“None of your business,” he grumbled into the rug before rolling over onto his back. 

“Are you trying to turn into a bat?” she asked uncertainly, glancing around for clues to the contrary.

“No!” After a moment of silence he closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes.”

“Can I help?”

“Do you have intimate knowledge of vampiric powers?” he asked sarcastically.

“No, but I have the power of motivation. Which would you prefer, praise or degradation?”

Astarion stared at the ceiling, unblinking.

“Surprise me.”

“Knowing you can’t do the most basic vampire power makes me sick. I’m embarrassed to be your juice box,” she spat out rather convincingly, brows furrowed, face darkened by disgust. “What a waste of good blood.”

Okay, harsh, but Astarion tried to channel that sting into-

With a poof, he turned into a bat. Briefly. Before he hit the ground, he turned back into his normal form.

“You just wanted to insult me, didn’t you?” he muttered in annoyance as he got back up. 

“Actually, that was pretty difficult. Most of my degradation material involves some variation of ‘whore,’ which doesn’t apply here.”

“Is your praise repertoire also of a sexual nature?”

A subtle smile on her lips, Rowan shrugged. “Mostly. Do you want me to try some non-whore material?”

Exasperated, he answered, “Why not?” 

Sweetly, earnestly, she told him, “You’re doing a great job. I know you’ll get it. I’m proud of you.”

Once more, Astarion concentrated. Then poof- bat.

It flapped its wings and fell to the ground, but this time as a bat. He blinked up at her, her form looming over him in wonder.

Then she broke into a grin and emitted a soft squeal.

“You did it! Look at you!” Forgetting propriety, she scooped him up. “Awww, you’re so cute! And so f- OW!”

Astarion, with all his batty might, chomped down on her hand. He managed to get in a few good licks as she shook her hand, trying to get him to detach.

Then, clearly panicked, she whipped her arm like a pitcher lobbing a baseball. He had no choice but to let go and, thanks to the force she put into him, he was able to get enough lift to flap around a bit before returning to normal.

“That was uncalled for!” Astarion complained, holding his head, hoping the world would stop spinning and his brain would stop hurting soon.

“You bit me!” she shrieked, confused and distressed as she clutched her injured hand. “Do I have to get a rabies shot?”

Glaring at her, Astarion spat, “What? You think I have rabies?”

“Bats have rabies!”

“Did I spontaneously generate rabies when I turned into a bat? I was there when they disproved that theory!”

Rowan shook her head, clearly realizing how ridiculous she sounded. But, she was still angry with him. “Okay, fine, but you bit me!”

“I’m sorry, darling, it was instinct.” He took her hand and inspected the little wound his bat fangs had left. The perfume of her blood was tantalizing. Thankfully hidden by his lips, his fangs extended reflexively at the thought of making even bigger punctures.

But he refrained from licking the trickle that was running down her arm and sucking at the wound like some crazed blood-thirsty monster. Instead, he produced his stiptik pen and rubbed it into her wounds.

“There. All better,” he told her smugly.

His skin was cold against hers.

Once more, he could hear her heart race. His smirk shifted a little bit into smile territory. 

That glimmer in his eyes, the chill of his hands-

Rowan pulled her hand away. She didn’t have to use a lot of force, but there was a bit of resistance as his fingers dragged along her skin. 

Honestly, but with a bit of guard, she said, “I’m glad it finally worked out for you.”

With that, she went to clean her hands, bandage the wound, and get back to her work.

After a while, when she was starting to pack it in for the night, a white bat flitted into the kitchen. It took all her strength not to freak out.

Then it turned back into Astarion.

“I’m sorry that I said mean-spirited things to you earlier. They were unfair.”

He appeared… chagrined. Had Gale said something to him?

Either way, he sounded sincere. 

Rowan nodded and tried to look a little happier than her normal resting face portrayed. “I understand. It’s okay now.”

“It’s nicer around here, when you’re happy.”

Unvoiced, he added in his head, ‘I actually want to get out of bed in the morning.’

Rowan’s stomach fluttered and her cheeks turned a subtle pink. Unable to meet his eyes, she made a sound of acknowledgement and finished putting everything away. 

----

Halloween.

It used to be a holiday where people would dress up in costumes and go door-to-door for candy. Often these costumes were based on popular depictions of ancient mythical creatures or beings, but also figures from popular culture.

Before that, it was a celebration for the dead by a major religion. They say that before that, it was a harvest festival. There were many holidays that had similar histories.

Halloween had remained more-or-less the same, except now there were real monsters. There were pretty much two opinions on the matter: it was either offensive to them, or it was an excuse to have fun.

Astarion found it more annoying than offensive. Just stupid little humans doing stupid human things. 

It did prove to be a great day for hunting and, eventually, Gale got him to loosen up.

“Are you supposed to be Gale?” Astarion asked in confusion once he laid eyes on Rowan in her costume, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

“No,” Rowan answered defensively. “Don’t judge me, you’re just dressed like a vampire.”

“I never said I was going in costume, only that Gale encouraged it.” Astarion huffed as he picked some lint off his coat. “These are my clothes.”

“Yeah, those are vampire clothes,” she insisted, gesturing towards his outfit. “I mean. You look like Lestat de Lioncourt getting off the boat.”

Not understanding what she was talking about, he took offense. “Look, I’m sorry that I struck the wrong tone. I just don’t understand what you’re supposed to be. That’s no reason to be rude.”

“I’m not being rude, Lestat was a hot character.”

Astarion tucked that little compliment away in the back of his mind for later. He bobbed his head from side-to-side, a gesture that Rowan had started to notice. She wouldn’t tell him, because it would be embarrassing for them both, but she found it adorable. It was a little sassy, a little bitchy, and a little silly. Just like him.

As he did so, he purred, “Darling, I didn’t know that you-”

“He was also a huge bitch,” Rowan interrupted, already turning away to gather everything she made for the party.

Astarion’s long ears drooped for a moment as his expression soured. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Rowan didn’t hear him and assumed he’d taken the statement in stride. By the time she came back from the kitchen, his face had returned to normal. 

Her face lit up under her false beard with a nervous smile. “Ready to go?”

Astarion didn’t drive and Rowan sold her car, so a car awaited them. Much to her surprise, Astarion was a perfect gentleman and helped her secure her things in the trunk. Then he even rushed ahead of her to, in a very dramatic fashion, open her door for her.

“Madam,” he said sweetly with his typical playful smile. He offered her his hand, to help her get into the car, but Rowan hiked up her costume’s robe and hopped in without assistance. Not losing a single drop of decorum, Astarion closed the door carefully.

To Rowan, he was being facetious. 

To Astarion, he was on auto-pilot. Five minutes ago, they were in his home, his domain, and he could do and say what he wanted, within reason. In this car, to this party, he was her escort, her date.

They passed the beginning of the trip in silence. 

Rowan was worrying about her food, costume, and meeting new people. She never felt too good in crowds and, judging from Astarion’s previous remarks, Gale’s party promised to be quite popular. 

Astarion looked out the window at nothing. If he was alone, he would have stared straight ahead, or at his nails, or just closed his eyes. He learned that people found that unnerving. 

If it was anyone else, he would find some topic of conversation. He was good at finding nothing to talk about. It was rare that someone talked to Astarion in a way that made him actually want to engage in a back-and-forth.

It was hard to talk to Rowan about nothing. All of his charms seemed to fail. 

But that was the thing: they didn’t need to succeed. He was paying her. As long as the price was right and he didn’t run her off by being “an unsavory weirdo” as Gale put it, their peaceful coexistence would continue on.

“How do you keep all your things when you turn into a bat?” Rowan asked thoughtfully out of nowhere.

“Magic.”

“But it’s not like you could pick me up, turn into a bat, and fly us off to wherever we want to go.”

“No.”

“But you can take what’s in your pockets.”

“Yes.”

“But you also couldn’t take all the cookies and such.”

“No.”

“But what’s the difference?”

Astarion closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Ask Gale, I’m sure he knows and can tell you all about it.”

Some silence passed where Astarion wasn’t rightly spacing out, but he continued to look out the window. In its reflection, he could see Rowan worrying at some part of her costume. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something and then closed.

Rowan wanted to apologize for talking too much. Or to ask if he liked being around her. She was already getting nervous about all of these people and the hullabaloo of a party. 

Suddenly, it occurred to her that, despite Gale’s words of praise, what she made would be considered tacky compared to the undoubtedly high-end spread he would put out.

“Gods, can you calm down?” Astarion growled, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing circles in his temple. “Your heartbeat is like a hammer on my skull.”

Very deliberately, Rowan tried her breathing exercises.

They didn't really make her feel any better.

When her heartbeat at least settled into one rhythm, Astarion felt bad for barking at her. Untrained humans could hardly be expected to have such control over their bodies.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before they arrived. 

Once again, he opened the door for her and helped her get the gifts from the trunk. He even offered her his arm to walk on before realizing it made no sense.

Instead, he walked slightly behind her so that when they came to the stairs, he could place a supportive hand on her back.

Rowan felt quite weird about all this. It would’ve been nice, if Astarion didn’t give her the impression of a pendulum swinging between “resentment” and “fondness” with the midpoint being “tolerating.” 

Especially tonight, she didn’t understand how he was feeling.

All those concerns washed away when the door opened, revealing a beaming Gale.

He was dressed like a… cat?

“Welcome! Fashionably late, as always,” he said with a bright smile and only a little snark.

Rowan mouthed the word ‘sorry.’ 

“Gale, you’ve known me long enough to figure out that I will never be on time,” Astarion shot back with a tight smile. Leaving his date in the capable hands of their host, he melted into the party.

“He’s being a bit of a bear, hm?” Gale asked her with a little laugh that betrayed a tiny bit of nervousness.

“Where can I put this down?” Rowan demanded a little rudely, hefting the stack of pastry and cake boxes.

“Oh! Of course. My, what a poor host I have been.” With that, Gale summoned a pair of mage hands that took the boxes from her and whisked them away. “Don’t worry, they will deal with it.”

Rowan fixed her costume where the car ride and pastry boxes had mussed it.

Gale stared at her with a very critical eye. 

Over some roughspun shirt and pants, she wore a red robe, appliquéd with yellow stars and moons and edged with a broad yellow stripe. On her face she wore an unimpressive false beard.

On her head was a red conical hat with a wide floppy brim that she occasionally had to flip up to keep it out of her face. The cone was also somewhat limp and a bit crumpled. On it was the word “wizzard” and above it was a crude yellow star.

A grin broke out on Gale’s face and he pointed at her with a snap of his finger. “Rincewind.”

Rowan let out the breath she’d been holding with a relieved chuckle. Gale leaned his right shoulder back as his grin grew, his personal sign of self-amusement. She’d never seen anyone else do it and always wondered where he picked it up.

“I didn’t think you’d get it,” she admitted, feeling better about her choice to wear this costume. She would’ve felt even sillier in the other one she had.

“Well, after I saw what you like to read and I got to know you, I thought I should give your literature a try. If someone such as yourself liked it, I figured I might enjoy it as well.”

Rowan blushed and tried to sink into her hat and false beard like a turtle hiding in its shell. “Oh, that’s- That’s flattering! I assume. If you liked it?”

“It’s marvelous! You know, it made me realize that I’ve been quite unfair to Terran culture. I never paid it much attention before. I apologize sincerely.”

Terran culture.

From an outside perspective, Gale and Rowan were the same. They could produce offspring (yuck) that would look like them both and be able to reproduce when they reached sexual maturity.

But Rowan was a ‘Terran’ while Gale was a ‘Torilian.’

About 200 years ago, around the turn of the Terran millennium, life on both worlds changed. Through some magical or astrological phenomenon, the ‘realms’ of Terra and Toril converged. During special times, one could see the other planet in the sky, as if projected there. 

Great amounts of magic allowed Torilians to break through the thin barrier that kept their two planets from affecting each other. Terra had to come to terms with a lot: magic, monsters, gods. Gods that weren’t theirs, but were similar. Gods that answered.

The important thing was that humans on both Terra and Toril were the same, except for one thing: Torilians could use magic, while Terrans could not.

This, of course, led to some problems with… superiority.

To say that Rowan’s opinion of Gale dropped a peg was an understatement. But, could she blame him? He was an arch-mage of prominent renown, powerful and sage-like in his knowledge. 

She didn’t know exactly how old he was, but her 35 years of life were probably a blink of an eye to him. The only older people she personally knew were Astarion and the myconid that ran her favorite noodle stand.

Gale could incinerate her. Turn her into a human puppet with a twinkle of his fingers and some fancy words that were suspiciously similar to Latin. Maybe he’d turn her to stone and admire her like some reverse Pygmalion.

Was she just a… pet? Astarion’s dog? With Gale as her dog-uncle?

“Rowan-” Gale started, voice tinged with distress. Even with her false beard, she hadn’t been able to hide how much his comment had soured her mood.

“Can I get a drink?” she interrupted before he could go down some rambling apology that she would have to accept because he was just so earnest and also could electrocute her on a whim. 

He’d probably get away with it, too.

“Of course. I’ll introduce you to some people I think you’d like.”

Thus began a parade of names and faces Rowan wouldn’t remember. There were many Torilians of various species and a few Terrans, mostly Gale’s colleagues. In the back of her mind, she wondered what they thought about their host thinking their cultures were beneath him?

Like most parties in Rowan’s life, she went to be a good friend and be “social.” Like most parties in her life, Rowan felt isolated and anxious, her ears trained for suspicious noises, her eyes searching for strange movements. She couldn’t connect with anyone, no matter how pleasant they were or how many drinks she had.

It was the first drink she had since her husband died. It hit harder than she’d prepared herself for. That didn’t stop her from soon having another. 

Needing some space, Rowan started to wander through the tower. Gale assured her that magic would keep her from getting into anything she shouldn’t and to text him if she got lost.

Every now and then, she stopped to look at art or stare out the windows. There were little alcoves with bench seats where she could rest her feet or give herself a moment to keep the world from spinning.

Rowan passed one such alcove with her head in the clouds. It was only once she was past the point of no return did it register that there were two people, seemingly men, engaging in some vigorous making-out in the alcove.

It wasn’t the sounds they were making, a mixture of grunting and moaning, that caught her attention.

It was a hand. The way it cradled the small of the man’s back. The black nails, pointed like claws. The glittering gold rings with their rubies and diamonds.

Rowan’s eyes flicked up to see Astarion staring back at her. His scarlet eyes glowed red. Even in the low light, she could see the blood on his lips.

Offering a too-quick and too-quiet apology, she skedaddled away.

Rowan found her way back to the party proper and had the animated skeleton bartender fix her another drink.

Not long after, she recognized the back of the man Astarion had been feeding on. He seemed fine, all smiles and laughter as he spoke to some people he presumably knew.

When they made plans, Astarion and Rowan agreed that they would leave when he was ready. Unfortunately for Rowan, she was getting tired. But she waited. 

And waited. 

And waited some more.

A voice in her head told her that if she texted him, asking when they could go, he would either never look at it or bite her head off.

So she texted Gale instead, asking if there was some place she could lie down to wait for Astarion to be ready.

“Halloween is a veritable vampire feast,” Gale said to her as he guided her through his tower. “He’s probably caught up in someone’s neck.”

“I figured,” she said a little too belligerently.

“I am deeply sorry for what I said earlier,” Gale started, only for her to cut him off.

“I’m not really in the mood for interdimensional geopolitics.”

“Of course,” he responded, properly chastised.

Not long after, he undid the magical lock on a door and ushered her into a guest suite. There was a big comfortable-looking bed that she had to resist the urge to immediately fall into.

“I will let Astarion know where you are when he’s ready to leave. The lock will open from the inside, but will lock behind you. If you need anything, just message me. Make yourself at home,” he explained with a smile before returning to his party.

Rowan removed her hat, robe, and boots before crawling onto the bed. The duvet would leave an impression on her face, but that was fine.

After a few breaths and incoherent thoughts, she was out like a light.

----

Gale’s parties were the perfect compromise of the clubs he frequented and the upper-class parties he was invited to. 

The guests were… respectable. No one was vying for his influence, which was frankly a useless endeavor. He and Gale shared the same grubby accountant and lawyer that dealt with all of that. 

Their “influence” was really their reassurance that they wouldn’t start tearing through Terra like feral beasts or subjugate them like the gods they were. 

It was funny, watching the Terrans come to terms with the fact that godly beings would answer the prayers of Torilians, but their gods were silent and unseen. He’d prayed to every god in the pantheon to save him from Cazador and none had answered.

But that was a long time ago. His status was more ceremonial now.

That’s all to say that he enjoyed Gale’s parties because it was Torilian in nature. It was held by one, about 90% of its guests were Torilian, and, in a good way, it reminded him of the parties his master would hold.

Also, there were plenty of necks for him to sink his fangs into.

Astarion was gnawing on his seventh “victim” when Rowan walked by.

His undead heart, back to pumping, fell into his stomach when their eyes met. There was the briefest flash of fear in hers. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth couldn’t move and he’d only end up getting blood all over himself and this fine wine-soaked gentleman.

As quickly as she appeared, she fled, like a scared little mouse.

So Astarion found an eighth neck. And then a ninth. Eventually he was on his fifteenth. Each time, he hoped she would walk by again so he could deliver the reassurances that he had been rehearsing in his head.

But he didn’t see her for the rest of the night.

People were leaving and Gale was standing at the door to send them all off. The sky was starting to change with the very first signs of the sunrise. Astarion hadn’t intended on staying out so late; it was embarrassing having to cover up and rush to the safety of the car.

So, Astarion was the last to leave.

“Did Rowan leave without me?” he asked Gale as the wizard closed his front door. He tried to sound uninterested, but Gale could hear the slight stress of disappointment.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Gale reassured him with a tired smile. He bid his friend to follow him. “I let her rest in Mother’s room.”

Tara, Gale’s loyal tressym companion, had been hiding in the room. She reported back that the poor woman was fast-asleep in her uncomfortable-looking clothes and spread out on the duvet without even a pillow to hold up her head.

With some encouragement from the tressym, Rowan got up and changed into some old clothes of Gale’s.

When they opened the door, they found her tucked into the bed, dead to the world, Tara curled up in a ball on her stomach.

Astarion thought about carrying her out to the car. Then he’d probably have to carry her into the house and tuck her into her own bed.

“You can stay, if you’d like,” Gale offered softly, as if he could read Astarion’s thoughts.

“That might be best.” 

“If you need something to sleep in-” 

“No. As if I’d sleep in your clothes,” Astarion growled, only for Gale to chuckle in return.

With a flick of his hand, Gale fixed the curtains so that they wouldn’t let in any light. Then he scooped up an annoyed Tara and left the two alone.

Astarion stripped down to his shirt and trousers and laid down on top of the duvet. It seemed like the most appropriate way to sleep in the same bed with someone he wasn’t romantically entangled with. 

If it was Gale, he would’ve slept on the floor.

He watched Rowan sleep for a bit. With Tara’s weight gone, she shifted onto her side, facing him. She made weird noises, as if trying to speak or letting out little moans.

Then she woke up. With his sensitive hearing, he could hear the subtle change of her heartbeat and breathing just moments before her eyes opened.

Rowan awoke all at once. Of all the people he’d watched sleep, he’d never seen someone wake up as if they came back to life. Sucking in a deep breath, her eyes opened wide.

She stared back at him briefly. Her alertness faded back into semi-consciousness. Drinking all night made her sleep restless. Her head sank back into the pillow.

“Am I your pet?” Rowan asked sadly, not looking directly at him.

The question shocked him. Astarion sat up.

“W-what?” Rowan didn’t answer. Maybe she wasn’t really awake and was just spouting nonsense.

“Do you like me? As a person? Or do you just tolerate me?”

Once more, Astarion’s heart sank. It was a feeling he wasn't used to and he hoped it would stop.

“Is this about what you saw in the hallway?”

“No.”

Protectively, he asked, “Did someone say something to you?”

In fact, they had, but even in her sleep-addled mind, she was more afraid of hearing something close to what Gale said come out of Astarion’s mouth. 

Or would he have it out with his friend in some glorious display of vampiric rage and wizard might? Would he accuse Gale of poisoning his prized cow?

Rowan couldn’t handle either possibility.

“No.”

Silence passed while Astarion tried to think. His mind was actually buzzing, energized by all the blood in his system, but it was also befuddled by all the alcohol and other substances that came along for the ride in that blood.

“Is that what you think of me? That I just tolerate you? That I’m keeping you around for my amusement?” he asked sadly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Rowan answered with a tone that screamed at him that she was afraid.

She tried to roll away to face the other direction, but he took hold of her shoulder.

“You’re not my pet. I don’t just tolerate you.”

“Okay,” Rowan said softly.

“Are you afraid of me?” Astarion asked with equal softness.

A look of shame washed over Rowan’s face. “Sometimes. But anyone could decide to hurt me. Even Gale.”

Astarion’s face became serious.

“I would never let anyone hurt you. I will never hurt you.” 

“I know.”

Astarion let her shoulder go and Rowan rolled over to fall back asleep.

With the sun rising in the sky, Astarion was overcome with his own tiredness. Stiff as a board, legs pressed together with his toes to the ceiling, and arms draped over his stomach, he settled in to rest until she was ready to get up.

At about 10, Rowan woke up for good.

It was her turn to stare at Astarion as he “slept.” Except for the slight flush he’d gained from his night of feeding, he appeared dead.

Against her better judgment, bolstered by the vague hangover that made it easy to be swayed by her emotions, Rowan touched his curls and started to cry.

Little did she know, Astarion was conscious and aware of her. He’d decided to play dead, to see what she would do. It was the first time in a long time someone was with him while he slept.

The feel of her fingers disturbing his hair was nice. She was gentle and caring about it.

The crying, though, was unexpected.

“Stop it,” he heard her hiss at herself, removing her fingers from his hair. “He’s not dead. This isn't happening again.”

Astarion supposed he looked very much like a corpse in repose, done up for the strange Terran death customs he’d been invited to on occasion.

Upon further consideration, he probably reminded her of corpses she’d seen on similar occasions. Empty shells that once held people she loved.

Astarion waited until she was in the bathroom changing to get up. Quickly, he threw his clothes back on, not bothering with all the buttons and details. He had no one to impress.

Rowan came out wearing another set of Gale’s clothes. They looked comfortable on her.

“I’m gonna eat something and then we can go,” she told him in a still-tired voice. He would have to tell her later that she didn’t need to do a blood-draw that evening.

“Do you remember our conversation?” Astarion asked suddenly before she could leave. She was only a few steps from the door.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I-” Rowan started, clearly embarrassed and ashamed. He didn’t allow her to finish whatever apology she felt she needed to offer.

“I do like you. As a person, that is. I’m sorry that I’ve given you an impression that I don’t.”

“I like you too,” she said with a smile. Even Astarion could tell it was sad, but if he asked, she’d just say she was tired.

Gale approached her as she ate at his kitchen table.

“Rowan, I…” Gale started sincerely with his hands held in front of him, one thumb massaging nervous circles into the palm of the other hand. He started to lower himself onto his knees, but Rowan bid him stop. He did anyway, the cracking of his knees proof of how serious he was being.

“I have been dismissive. I was already an accomplished arch-mage and Mystra’s chosen when our realms converged. It seemed so natural to see you all as… inferior. 

“I thought that it was enough that I never acted against you in anger. But I realize now that I… I treated you all like dogs. You were things that needed guiding hands, and while I had the power to destroy you, it was wrong to exert that power and I needed to treat you with kindness and understanding.”

“It’s okay, Gale-”

“No, it is not okay. It is far from okay.”

“Gale, I don’t want to have this conversation,” Rowan told him firmly. 

Then sweetly, she touched his cheek. 

“Yes, your comment hurt my feelings and I questioned my relationship with every Torilian I’ve ever known and I felt small and insignificant. 

“But… I’m glad I inspired you to try the things that have brought me joy. I like being your friend and I want to stay your friend. I don’t feel like you treat me like I’m inferior. We’re just different.

“Besides, you need my help getting off the floor, so who has all the power now?”

The corners of Gale’s eyes crinkled as he chuckled. “That is a very fair point.”

Ready to go, Rowan found Astarion grumbling as he watched the sun corner him in the foyer.

“Why don’t you turn into a bat?” Rowan asked, understanding his predicament.

“Being a bat doesn’t save me from the sun. And even if it did, a bat in full sun?”

“Well, you’d be smaller, so I could hide you in something,” she explained further. Opening her coat, she added, “See? Plenty of space.”

Astarion huffed. “Fine. It’ll have to do.”

With a poof, he turned into a white bat and alighted on Rowan’s outstretched hand. She brought him close to her face, as if she was going to kiss his little smooshed face, and whispered, “You bite me again, and we’ll have problems. Fair?”

Incapable of speech, the bat squeaked. Smiling, she placed him on her breast, which served as a nice shelf that he didn’t have to cling to with as much ferocity as other places. Then she covered him with her coat and zipped it up to her chin so no light would find its way in.

Safely in the car with its tinted windows, Astarion refused to shift back.

Rowan would’ve been annoyed if it didn’t remind her of a pet she used to have.

She scritched his head between his little ears. A smile started to bloom on her lips. He looked up at her with his beady little eyes. Laughing, she used her other hand to cover his view of her chin and neck.

“Nooo!” Rowan complained playfully. “I must look awful at that angle!”

In response, he hunkered down even further on her chest, as if he was a cat getting ready to take a nap there. 

Maybe it was a little inappropriate. 

But he was happy to see her smile because of him.

The head-scratches were nice too.