#chugging the dead dove one and hoping it kills me

[oneshlut]

Ok, ok ok… Can I request Yandere!Dr. Flug x Fem!Reader, please? You describe the reactions of the characters so interestingly that I wanted to write to you, but already about the yandere doctor. Thank you in advance, you are amazing.

A/N: oooh yesyes!! thank you sooo much for the compliments, they mean so much to me !! yanderes are some of my favs to write, thanks a bunches for requesting! (also, whamo! mitski ref in the title!)

Bag of Bones (Yandere!Dr. Flug x Fem!Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of bl0od, d3ath, lethal injections, execution, and t0rture, Subjects like toxic relationships, kidnapp!ng, posessive/obsessive behaviors, and toxic worshipping and degrading(on his part), General dead dove contents.

Summary: Yandere headcanons for Dr. Flug with a Fem!Reader. General hcs for kidnapp!ng, crushing, etc.

Someone like Dr. Flug definitely seems harmless. Pathetic, wimpy, and afraid. Labels that have been given to him all his life. Labels that only you never assigned him. Well, he's never lived up to those names. Not completely. Underneath his trembling form hid a dangerous man, who could kill you at the snap of his fingers if he really wanted to. Not like he would! You do have to remember, though, that he still is a villain. For plenty good reason.

But, yes. I'm sorry, but the moment he realized his murderous lovesick tendencies, you've immediately set yourself up for danger. Flug would never hurt you, but he's not saying he wouldn't hurt anyone to have you.

With the baseline of knowing he is sick, twisted, and much more than he seems--lets dig more into how he behaves, shall we? He's quite tame with you at first. If you didn't know any better, Dr. Flug would be as normal as ever in your eyes. He's pretty good at bottling up his obsession. This definitely comes into play as his obsession with you grows stronger by the day.

He's unsure of his feelings towards you at first. Dr. Flug soon recognizes it as love, and he can't get enough of you. He begins with small signs, such as asking you for help in his lab when he really doesn't need it. You also notice that he just happens to show up in the same room that you'd walk into. You viewed it as nothing but coincidence.

Flug grows increasingly worried for you as weeks pass, him still relishing in this new feeling. Unfortunately, this feeling did come with a bit of.. protectiveness, on his part. He still wanted you to visit his lab, yes, but.. maybe he could make his lab a bit more safe? Dr. Flug didn't want you to get hurt by something of his creation. The only thing worse than that would be if someone else hurt you. Which wouldn't happen. He hopes so, at least.

One day, though, he made a mistake. Flug had let you go on a mission with him, and a hero had hurt you. Whether it was a major or minor injury, he didn't care. Someone hurt you--your soft, delicate skin, your sweet smile, the sparkle in your eyes.. your eyes seemed dull now. And something in him sparked a fire that was trying to burn for weeks now.

Suddenly, the normally panicked mood that hung over his mindset completely disappeared. He didn't have time to overthink ever little thing he does--not now. But he didn't want to.. strike, not.. yet.

When Dr. Flug gets mad, he gets scary. Not in the way he was almost constantly angry with Demencia, no, this was a.. spiteful anger. That's the anger that made him the most dangerous. As mentioned before, he could choose when he wanted to be dangerous at any moment. And that moment was now.

Euthanasia could work, but it was too.. painless. Maybe something a bit more lethal would be better. He decided to create his own serum. If he injected the syringe with it in just the right spot in the neck, the hero would be suffering for hours. Perhaps days.. They would be gasping for air they couldn't receive, practically chugging their own blood, yet forced to stay awake during the whole process. Perfect, was it not?

Okay, he may have gone a little bit overboard. But in the end, he knew it would be worth it. You never found out. Why would you? He was much too careful for that. Dr. Flug simply played along, hearing the hero's name announced dead on the news with you. He played a fool, acting surprised. And it was enough to fool you.

Afterwards, though, he felt amazing. To completely get rid of someone's existence.. it was freeing. And the hero deserved it, anyway. The only obstacle in the way now was the challenge of having you to himself. With Dr. Flug's self-esteem, this goal was made generally impossible.

Though, a new idea came to him. A horrible, new, great idea. If Flug wanted you to himself, there was only one other way that came to him. There's no way you'd like him back, he was probably still pathetic in your eyes. So instead, he chose the more obvious choice of just whisking you away. Chloroform should do the trick, right..?

Waking up in Flug's dimly lit lab, tied to an office chair, not remembering the past 12 hours of your life was.. an experience. A horrifying one, at that. What did you even do to him that would make him want to kill you? You were nothing but nice to him, and.. part of you was actually starting to grow attached to him. You started to regret ever becoming a villain in the first place..

That was, until Dr. Flug tried his best to calm your nerves, explaining how he didn't want to hurt you. You could almost hear the sorrow in his voice, almost like he was hurt that you would even think that he would ever want to harm you. Noticing you were now significantly more calmer than before, he began relishing in the fact that you were now his.

Off the bat, he begins overloading you with compliments. Now that you know he likes you, he starts treating you like some sort of goddess. Ignoring the fact that he's holding you hostage, he treats you pretty well! He brings you in 3 meals a day from outside, gives you a warm bed to sleep in at night, all so that he makes sure you know he loves you. Another thing Flug does is make sure 5.0.5. doesn't see you. This portion is a bit difficult, but he gets by, and 5.0.5. just thinks you must've moved away. How peacefully ignorant.

For now, he intends on keeping you here until you gain some sort of stockholm syndrome, or until he finds a better place to keep you without the risk of you escaping. You find yourself wondering how long you're gonna last here.

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 8/10

Only two more to go, and let me just say that it’s mildly amusing to me to be posting a winter fic when springtime’s in full bloom.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 4K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

Fall ended, and with the beginning of winter the first hint of snow rolled in. One to two inches of it blew in to start, blanketing everything in a fine layer of white as the temperatures dropped.

Nothing that would bury his place outright, but that still didn’t stop Sharky from giving half of it a good ol’ scorch with his flamethrower. He had a yearly thing going, adjusting it each time just to get the right stream of flame flowing, so he wouldn’t burn much under the snow. But thankfully, this wasn’t one where he was on the verge of getting caught for it.

Not yet at least, as he took the jet of fire and gave it another sweep across where the snow was coating the road. He’d get at least two to three more passes before hitting the pavement, and needed to be sure to stop it at any sign of the fire spreading.

Now was not the time to get cozy up at the jail either, no matter how well they decked the halls over there.

Hurk let him know early on that he was set to do their usual thing this time of year. He’d pull up a chair with him as they had their annual holiday bonfire, before heading out to Aunt Addie’s. Those were the best times, and the ones where he really had all he could’ve ever wanted.

Sometimes there were odd years. The ones where Hurk was gone after all, being one hell of a kick ass super spy, and Sharky found it harder to get in on the holiday fun with his aunt. Felt a little too much like an outsider, and thought his time was better spent down at the Eagle drinking himself stupid before trying and failing to write a dirty phrase into the snow.

This year was set up to be one of the good ones, though. He had Hurk, they had their usual plans set up, and tonight they’d even decided to get in a little pre-holiday drink-a-thon. He’d supply the venue and grab half of the alcohol, while Hurk would cover the rest. Snag them more booze, maybe even a few movies, and he’d try to see how fast he could beat him at his own self-declared shot-taking record.

But first, he needed the beer. Smokes too, since he’d gone through most of his current pack, and snapped up what he could down at the general store.

They only had one six pack of the beers he and Hurk liked, though, and when he went fishing for cash he wasn’t able to cover for another, so he cut his losses. He paid for the beer plus one pack of cigs, and knew Hurk would have his back on the rest.

Not breaking his usual habit, he took one of the beers and popped the cap as soon as he was out the door. Hit by the cold, he shivered but shrugged it off as he tilted the beer back. It wasn’t far to his car, so he could double-time it there before anyone could say two words about it.

“Strange.”

He paused, and nearly coughed the drink up. John was standing not even three feet away, dressed in a long dark coat. A blue scarf was wrapped around his neck, and between harsh coughs Sharky might’ve been able to pick out the light smile he wore. Almost friendly.

The air escaped John in a puff as he chuckled. “You would think something warm would be better for this weather.”

“It…uh, that’s what the whiskey at home’s for,” Sharky rasped, “or fireball. Usually a winner.”

“Ah.”

John raised a gloved hand to hold his coat closed, clearly cold, but he didn’t drop his eyes or move on. Just held the look he was set on aiming at him, and Sharky knew his mouth was in danger of running off on him.

Once he could get it going again, that is. Funny how John had a way of doing that to him.

“You, er, need anything from here? You never-“ I never see you down here. “Didn’t think there was a thing you’d ever run out of.”

“Yes, I… There were a few things I did find I needed.” The smile faded. “Matches.”

“Oh. Yeah, you might need some of those.” He took another drink of the beer, hoping it would cover the way his mouth was twisting. And didn’t like one bit the way his lighter suddenly burned a hole in his pocket. “For heat?”

“Heat, mostly.” John shrugged, and tried another smile. “Haven’t decided to take a page out of your book just yet. But it’s tempting.”

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Pressed against the back of his teeth as he felt his grip on the beer tighten. “So, uh…”

“It’s good to see you.”

“Good luck with that.”

He’d blurted it out just as John spoke, not expecting anything along those lines.

Something flashed in John’s eyes. It was hard to tell out here in the dark at first, but those blue eyes of his managed to catch the light. What little there was brought them out, and he didn’t know what to do with the hurt he’d let him see.

“Fuck, I uh-this isn’t, look I-“

“You’re busy.” Smoothing out the front of his coat, John looked down as he did so, studying his leather gloves closely. “Clearly I’ve interrupted something, and you need to get back to it.”

Chug-a-lugging a beer out in public wasn’t something. Lighting another cigarette only to stub it out before finishing it in the ashtray of his car wasn’t something. Missing him wasn’t-

Sharky swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Think you’re right about that.”

This was his cue to leave. He had been out here long enough, stared over at him long enough, and he didn’t trust at all his ability to hide any of it at this point.

Still, he let himself look at John again, just for a moment longer, because what was one more second? He’d dug the hole deep enough to start. He’d keep on going until he had a whole damn trench.

“See you around, man,” he threw out over his shoulder as he turned to leave. “Oh, and happy holidays and all that shit.”

The snow crunched under his feet as he trudged over to his car, ready to throw the door open and hop in fast. But this time around John didn’t call out to him. He put the last of the beer down from behind the driver’s seat, waiting for it, listening, only for his phone to give him a notification instead.

Slipping it out, he opened up the message waiting for him.

Happy holidays. Take care.

“Holy shit, Sharky. Thought they were out of this. Though, looks like they would’ve been if you’d put any more of a dent into it.”

Hurk snagged one of the beers on the table – one of three remaining, which wasn’t all that bad – and got to work on it quicker than he had. Then took the other next to it right after.

Stifling a laugh, Sharky flicked a loose bottlecap at him from the couch. “You trying to say something? After I head on down there and nearly freeze my ass off hunting for that shit?”

“Whoa, no. ‘Cause that’s just hella rude turning my nose up at any free alcohol being offered, but this ain’t enough for two. Hell, it’s barely enough for one.”

And with their shindig consisting of one beer, the remains of another six-pack in his fridge, plus the line of spirits they’d taken a crack at already, it was looking a little on the sad side. Hurk hadn’t even been able to snag a keg, not this time around. All after showing up to Sharky’s house, emptying his pockets for spare change for a potential second booze run, and didn’t even have a movie or three to share.

“And not a single call back,” Hurk sighed, “I’m hurting, cuz. Thought we’d be able to cozy up to some fine-ass ladies tonight, but no takers.”

“Eh, it happens.”

Disappointing as it was, he was hard-pressed to care. At least until Hurk threw a handful of bottle caps back at him, and he dove to the other end of the couch to dodge them.

“Well, you’re in a funk still. Don’t think I’m not noticing that, or done worrying about it either!”

“Look, it’s late. We’re short on shit. Any lady walking in through that door would walk back out again after seeing how lame of a situation we’ve got going here. And that’s not even covering the porn mag left on the table.”

“Hey, I marked a spot. Thought you’d appreciate it since you’re blue, and needed a little something to make you smile.” Hurk walked over to it and held the magazine up, thumbing through a few pages before turning it around to show it to him. “Come on, you love this chick.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sat back down, and folded an arm under his head. Gave what Hurk was holding a passing glance, before leaning back. “It’s nothing. Just some of that seasonal shit.”

“Well, I think I know how to get this party going again. We exit stage left, head on down to see Miss Mary May, and work our way up from there, eh?”

Sharky grunted in response, and Hurk groaned in exasperation.

“Duderino, you’re killing me here. I’ve gotta find a way to get you back to bouncing off the walls, or we’re both done. Like, the party’s dead, but we’ve gotta keep on going. Work our way back on up, so we can rise from this. Majestic and-”

The magazine was tossed down, and Sharky heard a gasp.

“Oh, shit. That’s pretty fucking sharp there, cuz.”

“Hmm? What is?”

“These sunglasses. Where’d the hell you manage to get them?”

Sharky shot up in his seat.

In the middle of shooting off a set of finger guns, Hurk had slipped the pair he’d found on, pausing only to push them further up the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, this is pretty damn cool. Don’t know about all the blue, though, you think these little guys come in red, white, and blue instead?”

Sharky scrambled up and off of the couch, and wrangled them away from Hurk. “Careful with that shit, okay? You’ll fucking break them if you bend them the wrong way.”

“Whoa, whoa there, man! Easy, easy!” Hurk held up his hands, and gave Sharky a wary look as he examined the pair. “It’s a set of sunglasses, bud. No big deal, not that I was gonna actually break ‘em.”

“They’re five-hundred bucks, man.”

Hurk changed his tune immediately, “Well, fuck a duck. And you’re holding onto them? Who the hell do you know willing to spend bookoo bucks on a set of glasses?”

It didn’t take long for him to narrow that down either, and Sharky’s grimace in response only sent the unspoken point home.

“Wait. Are those John’s?”

Sharky adjusted his hold on the sunglasses, almost cradling them in his hands. “He dropped them. We were working one day, he had to run off to do something with his bro, and I…grabbed them. Wasn’t thinking much at the time, like I know he could’ve come back to grab them later, but I thought they’d get smashed out there. Figured I’d have a chance to give ‘em back, except later never really came, and I, uh. Held onto them.”

“Well, it’s his fault for doing you dirty like that. Cutting you out of the whole deal after trapping you in it to begin with? Stealing and keeping his shit seems like fair game to me.”

Glancing down at them, Sharky sighed. “Nah, not really. Not like you think it would.”

Hurk got quiet, saying nothing as he went and gently placed the sunglasses back down on the dining room table. The low whistle Sharky got after that though, had him trying to force himself not to bolt.

“Fuck me running, dude. You weren’t kidding before, were you?”

“Kidding ‘bout what?” Sharky replied, feeling sheepish. “The whole him not being a douche thing, or the part where I kind of liked him?”

“Man, both. Definitely both.”

“Oh. Well, it-it’s fucking bad.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sharky swiped his cap off to run a hand through his hair. “It’s a whole lot of bullshit, ‘cause I was busting my ass out there. Wanted to get it all over and done with so we could go back to acting like nothing had happened. Then I didn’t mind it as much. Kinda thought we were friends or heading towards it, and…I might’ve blown that too.”

Dropping his arm, he sniffed, and tried to look anywhere but Hurk’s way.

“’Cause you don’t wanna kiss your friends or try to. Muddies things a whole hell of a lot, and it’s…it didn’t work out. And I don’t know why, but I still wanna see him. Know how he’s doing even if he doesn’t give two shits about me, and when I had that chance today grabbing that,” he said pointing over towards the beer, “I blew it again.”

“Well, what about you? Takes two loving and willing adults to do the ol’ sideways shuff-” Hurk paused, scrunching up his face as he considered it. “Wait, that’s a bad way of saying it, ‘cause we’re not talking fucking, we’re talking feelings. Which usually leads to fucking, but the point still stands, though. You gotta have a say in some of this here. Especially if you like this guy – and fucking John, man, but I ain’t judging. Much.”

Hurk’s hands went up again as Sharky gave as much of a glare as he could muster. But even that fizzled out completely as his eyes dropped straight to his feet.

“You gotta have something to say something, right?”

It was bitter on his tongue, and he tried to choke it back. Found himself thinking of the smile John gave him earlier. How he’d looked at him, warm enough to root him to the very spot.

“Something solid. Something to go off of instead of just guessing, and I’ve done enough of that, man. Burned that bridge and boat – though some of that shit came pre-burned, if we really wanna get into it. Like I think there’s still bits and pieces at the bottom of the river that we’d be able to dig up. Big enough chunks to drag up and float on Titantic-style, and…yeah. That’s just how this kinda thing goes.”

When Hurk walked over and gave him a hug, he didn’t pull back. Sniffed a little more as he tried to get it together, because like hell was he going to start blubbering over this. He’d managed to avoid it so far, but this would be the stick needed to break that damn camel’s back.

“Hey, it’s okay," Hurk said, hugging him tighter. "Sorry for giving you shit over something you can’t really control, and shit for any of this at all. I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happy? You lock that down, and dial it in tight. But if he’s being weird about it? He’s the one missing out. Him, not you. You’re the coolest guy around. Like the one you go to whenever you need to get down and party hard, and if that ain’t the kind of party we’re having? You’ll still find a way to knock all our fucking socks off with some crazy shit. ‘Cause that’s you, cuz.”

“Just me?”

“Yeah, just you, being the best, badass baby cousin a guy could ever ask for.”

After a few pats on the back, Sharky let out a sigh. Felt some of the weight start to lift after letting that out into the open, and felt a little better too. Not completely, not even by a long shot, but he’d work his way there.

“You know what’ll help? Not all of it, but at least for now?” Hurk asked.

“A round of shots?”

“Round of the best alcohol we can handle, and tonight I’ve got us covered. We’ll do that for a while, then finish off the night watching ol’ Vinny being a total badass.”

Thinking it over, Sharky felt a smile start to creep in. “Maybe throw in some other shit too. Like, maybe one round of the holiday fireplace or something? The crackling’s nice.”

“Anything you like, bud. Anything you like.”

Nights at the Spread Eagle during winter weren’t much different than during the rest of the year. Sure, there was a draft, but the place was just as busy as any other. The drinks flowed, the regulars had their winter gear on, and everyone was set on having a good a time as possible.

Hurk made good on his promise shortly after they got there, toasting him before the two got cracking on their first round of shots. He didn’t want to get blasted, but the warmth that set in was welcome, and with every story that Hurk dove into he found it that much easier to let loose and laugh.

Heading up for the next round, Sharky kept his beer close as he hit the counter up front, passed their order on to the always lovely Mary May, and set in for a short wait. Resting both arms on the counter he took a look around, and noticed there was no line at the jukebox. With quarters rustling around in his pocket, he had change to spare.

“Waiting on something?”

Shifting, Sharky tried to make space for the person next to him. “Shit, sorry, let me just-“

Then felt the rest of the response die in his mouth as he glanced up at Jacob. Dude was still as tall and imposing as he remembered, but wasn’t eyeing him with the intent to kill. Or anything other than what he guessed was friendly for him.

“Yo, how’s it…how’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Jacob took the spot next to him by the bar, settling in, and Sharky tapped his fingers on the counter a little faster. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“No shit.”

“You two aren’t talking much anymore?”

Nothing came through in his tone. Not anger or irritation, and while Sharky was still waiting for him to throw him a beating, Jake wasn’t gunning for it.

“I, uh, don’t think that’s the way I’d put it. ‘Cause if you know two things about it, and I know you guys are all close and shit, it’s…not great,” Sharky said, going straight for his beer.

“Yeah. You used to be all he ever talked about.”

That made him spit his next drink out. Getting one hell of a dirty look from Mary May, he grabbed as many napkins as he could to sop it up, wiping the counter down, and felt his face burn the entire time.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

Jacob simply kept on tending to his own beer. Drained it completely as he stood there next to him, and sighed when done.

“Heard about you enough to wonder if he’d ever shut up about you. Charlemagne this, Boshaw that. Had a new story every week, if not every night we’d stop by. Like with that skunk. Got real unlucky with that.”

Groaning, Sharky set his face in his hands, “Yeah, it was…it was pretty bad.”

“Can’t dodge those easy.”

“I didn’t. Thought that was the whole point of that one.” Sharky sat up, and eyed him. “So, I get it. You’ve heard some shit.”

Jacob set the empty bottle down, and motioned for another. “Plenty. More than I know you want to hear, until he stopped. Stopped saying much of anything about you at all, and didn’t look none too pleased about it either.”

“Well, you wanna know more? Talk to him about it.”

“I did.” Mary May slid him a beer, and he redirected it towards Sharky, “Which is why I told him to talk to you.”

“Why would you…why’d you do that?” Sharky asked, any irritation at this bleeding away.

“John’s not easy to deal with. Then if he goes and fucks something up along the way? He’s ten times worse. If he makes a mistake, not many are going to push back, or correct him on it.”

“So, is that what this is? You think he made a mistake?”

“He did.” The piercing look Jacob aimed at him made him sit up a little straighter. “He liked having you around. Why throw that away?”

That punched him up and down all at once, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not again.

“Look. I get it, you’re being a bro. Trying to look out for him and shit, and I respect that. It means a lot, but you want me to talk to him? Like sit down, link arms, and work any of this out?”

Sharky pulled out his phone and didn’t even wait for Jacob to prompt him. Just called John, and hit speakerphone so that they could hear it as it dialed.

“Dude won’t answer. Hasn’t yet, and won’t now.”

Jacob crossed his arms, set to wait with him, and Sharky listened for those telltale words of John’s. The same few words the voicemail hit him with when he’d first tried this weeks back.

“Hello?”

Sharky stared down at his phone, at the seconds of the connected call as they ticked by on the screen, and felt his mouth go dry.

“Charle- …-nyone there?”

Slapping it against his ear, he turned off the speakerphone and talked fast, “Hey, uh, you…you’re not supposed to pick up.”

“I’m not?”

“No, you’re…” He stopped his leg when he felt it start bouncing into overdrive, “It’s, uh, sorry. Sorry about earlier. Wanted to get that out first, ‘cause I didn’t know I was gonna see you and really had to run off. Might’ve also thought this would’ve gone straight to voicemail, so I could, you know. Actually work my way through this. Make it sound good, not...”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” John cleared his throat, and his next few words were warmer, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you at all, so even this is welcome.”

“Oh, er, well. Cool.” Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

“And…you don’t need to apologize for that. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve, and putting you on the spot like that was far from fair. It's hard to hear you over the line right now, but if you want to talk more, I’d be glad to. About that, or anything else.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His heart was hammering in place, and his eyes skimmed the entire bar. Jumping from item to item, needing a topic or an excuse to keep things going, he floundered in place until he stopped on the white snowflakes decorating one of the other guests’ sweaters. It was an ugly sweater to be loud and proud of, and the glittery shovel emblazoned on the front stuck out next to a large lumpy snowman.

That set a few gears into motion, and his mouth was moving before he could stop it. “Shovel.”

“Shovel?”

Shifting on his chair, Sharky swore under his breath. Put it in a sentence. Words, verbs, and some of those phrases like that Wheel of Fortune shit. That’s how you do this.

“You er, need any shoveling done? Like you’re dealing with a ton of snow coming down, or about to? ‘Cause I’ve got some ways of fixing that. Got more than a few, might even give you a method or two provided you want a uh, demo. Or a guarantee any of it’ll work, and I can cover it. Give you a sneak preview or something.”

John went silent, the sounds of the bar rising enough to cover him, and Sharky didn’t bother stopping his leg this time. Just felt it vibrate enough to make his voice uneven.

“Hey, John? You still with me there, amigo?”

“I’m still here,” he said, and Sharky couldn’t hold back his relief.

“So, what do you say? You dig any of that?”

“Yes.” It was faint, but he might’ve heard a laugh, “I think you’re right. I could use someone here after all.”

[kinsbin]

Champagne and Jealousy

Title: Champagne and Jealousy Word Count:  2087 Ship: Alexys/Lance [Canon/Self Insert]

Summary: At an awards show for Grave Encounters, Alexys runs into a fan that gets a little too interested in her. Lance comes to shoo him away, with a surprising admittance that, perhaps, it was because he was a bit jealous of her giving attention to someone else. 

Author’s Note: A writing comm for @bad-blue-moon-rising who requested some jealous Lance. It was super fun to write and I had a good time. I hope you enjoy it ;u;)b

Alexys had never thought too much about the concept of jealousy.

It was familiar, sure, but only in fiction. Novels and books had bestowed upon her the concept of it in association with fairy tales. To her, jealousy was associated with prompts in fairy tales. Where wicked queens grew jealous of their step daughter’s beauty and locked them away from the world, convincing them they were ugly until the handsome prince swooped in and freed them from the lifetime of stockholm abuse. It was used in horror movies, where a killer got jealous of their crushes potential love interest and chose to sneak into their house in the dead of night to murder them, approaching their crush with a blood soaked front only to be rejected and forced to kill the other as well in a fit of overwhelming heartbreak. Neither situation was desirable nor attractive to her and, thus, she had separated them far from the reality of life. In the vast distance between the space of comfort and like. It almost felt like a made up emotion at this point. Something fake and far away.

Until it happened, of course.

Lance sported a rather nice tuxedo, his face freshly shaven as a hand holstered a champagne glass between its fingers. Alexys stood at his side, accepting a similar glass from the approaching wait staff but never actually reaching for a sip, the smell of the liquid already moderately repulsing. It was, at least, beautiful to look at. The bubbles floated lackadaisicaly against the edges of the crystal finery, dissipating once they hit the top of the surface and popped with a satisfying, carbonated sizzle. It faded away amongst the cacophony of echoes that rang solidly throughout the rest of the large ballroom. Shifting from foot to foot, Alexys couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward in the knee-length gown she had chosen to wear to the event her boyfriend had invited her to.

The black and white attire television awards show was invitation only, after all. Grave Encounters had caught a lot of interest after several of its episodes became surprisingly prevalent in the ghost hunting and scientific community alike, hoaxes dismissed in favor of later episodes that were proven to be more real than ever before. It was enough to bring notice (and ratings) to the humble program, allowing it to slide into the contending of an Emmy Award for ‘Best Supernatural Reality Show’.  A prestigious honor, that was certainly, but also...an incredibly nerve wracking one.

A hand slid around her waist, a kiss pressing into her forehead as she felt Lance chuckle at her side.

“I’m the one about to get either celebrated or demolished in the public eye and you look like you’re going to vomit way before I am,” His tone was teasing as he nudged at her side gently with his hip, “You need to take a deep breath before you forget how to breathe, babe.”

“I can breathe just fine!” Alexys argued back with a mumble, brushing some hair behind her head and wrinkling her nose at the champagne again. Lance took a deep swig of his, draining the glass in a single chug and looking at Alexys’ own glass wearily. With a breath of defeat, she simply handed it to him, ignoring the grin of delight he wore as he accepted it and drained it as well, handing them off to a passing waiter in the process.

“I just,” Alexys started while biting at her lip, “Don’t like parties too much that’s all. So many people...so many people I don’t know and. It’s always so LOUD all the time and-.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lance murmured as a hand slid from her waist to her shoulder, bringing her close with a knit to his eyebrows that expressed concern, “I know, and, it means so much that you came with me to this, honestly, it does...I promise, once we’re called up and after whatever happens on that stage, I’ll take you right home and we can crawl into bed and watch whatever movie you want, huh? I’ll even let the cats on the bed this time.”

“You see, you always SAY the cat’s aren’t allowed on the bed, but, every time I come home you’re always just laying on your back while all four of them are sitting on your chest purring at the same time. I feel like there’s a sort of conspiracy going on here.”

“They trick me into it!”

Alexys giggled, the light banter between the two of theme asing her nerves as the before party continued on, a multitude of guests and television stars alike chugging down the offered alcohol and food like there was no next day. Yet, with Lance, she felt grounded. She felt safe and with, at least, familiar people in an unfamiliar environment. She touched at his shoulder gently, desperate for the soft contact.

A photographer approached, echoing a constantly stated call for the group to line up so that he could take a photo for them for the local awards newspaper and events twitter. That it would take a few minutes so they were advised to finish whatever drinks or food they had on their person. Lance took a breath, looking over and giving Alexys a smile. “I’ll be right back, babe,” He spoke with a kiss to her temple yet again, “Stay right here. Or go chasing after some good hour d'oeuvres and bring them back for me okay?”

“Aye-Aye, captain.” Alexys laughed as he was taken away with the rest of the Grave Encounters crew. Alexys sighed and walked towards the nearby bar countertop, leaning against it and rolling one of her ankles, tired from standing even if she had cheated and wore converse with the sleek dress she had chosen. The music of the event hummed in her veins as she people watched, waiting patiently for the group she had come in with to return.

A shadow blocked her way shortly though, tall and almost intimidating in its placement. Alexys jumped in surprise, whirling around with wide blue eyes.

The man standing before her was big, almost meek looking as he held up both of his hands out to her in a signal that he meant no harm. The scruff on his face was finely groomed and appealing in a rugged sort of way. His eyes were bright blue, almost ice against his warmer shaded skin.

“Hey, woah,” He laughed, “Sorry to startle you, Dove. I just...noticed you standing around by yourself, looked like you could use some company.”

“Oh,” Alexys hummed awkwardly, “I was just...My group went to take some pictures with the camera guy and-”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “The Grave Encounters crew, right? You’re Lance Preston’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” She blinked, surprised, “How’d you know?”

“Recognized you from some of those few episodes you appeared on,” The man grinned at her, “Though I gotta say you’re way prettier in person.”

Alexys blushed, discomfort mixing with flattery as the man leaned, perhaps, a bit too close to her for comfort. Red flags sung like warning bells in the back of her mind as she tried to step a little further to the side of him, hands falling together to fiddle with one another before clearing her throat softly, an effort to make sure her tone held no sign of stuttering for the polite refusal she was about to have to go on.

“Uh, yeah,” She managed out with a laugh, “Look, my boyfriend will be back in a second and-”

He reached out, touching her hand and sending shudders up her spine. His smile was sickeningly sweet.

“Why the rush? I thought I’d get to know you a bit better if I could...what, that stuck up ghost hunter’s better than a conversation with a fan?”

Alexys laughed and pat his hand in return, “No, not that. I just didn’t wanna be separated for too long and-”

A hand flew onto the man’s shoulders, a familiar voice laced with what she could only described as edged jealousy echoing hard against the backdrop of their conversation:

“She said she wanted to go look for me, you really should respect a gal’s decisions. Sides, I prefer ‘confident’ over stuck up.”

The man turned, seeing Lance’s face dark with annoyance at him. HIs own eyes narrowed sharply as he released Alexys, the two squaring one another up too close to be considered anything friendly. This is what it must have felt like, she imagined, to be stuck between two bears vying for control of a food supply. The power between them was bulking and immeasurable as the man quirked an eyebrow at Lance, his smile only thin and formal over friendly and wanting as he had been with Alexys.

“A right prick is what you are. What, can’t let your girlfriend converse with a fan?”

“When the fan is trying to hit on her and drag her away when she’s uncomfortable,” Lance retorted, making sure to put himself between them both, “Yeah, guess I have a hard time letting go.”

His hand snuck around her waist, bringing her close to him as if to prove the point he had made in his voice. Alexys blushed as she was held, so possessive and warmly, against Lance’s body. The other man glared at Lance for a moment, Lance returning it with his own tight, show-stopping smile while he reached out and gave the man a pat on his shoulder. “It’s about time for the show to start, big guy, why don’t you find your seat?”

“Tch, whatever.” The man backed off at last, seeing not only the rest of the Grave Encounters crew huddle slightly around, but the eyes of the security guards faintly chasing him as he limped away. Lance turned to Alexys, a hand touching her cheek as she looked up at him with a smile. “You good?” He asked, the possessive edge still in his voice.

“Yeah,” She sighed while leaning into the touch, “What made you rush back so fast?”

“I-” Lance’s face turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck with a free hand, “Saw the guy talking to you and….Uh….I got a sort of sixth sense for it I guess?”

“He was jealous as fuck that’s what he was.” Sasha chimed from across the table before moving on, a champagne glass in her hand and a knowing smile on her lips while Lance shot her a ‘how could you’ look of betrayal rivaling that of a kicked puppies. Alexys grinned herself, reaching out and giving him a hug to which he returned. “Jealous? Really?” Alexys couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in her mouth as she tilted her head up at him, “I….why would you get jealous?”

“Because you’re MY beautiful girlfriend, not his!” Lance pouted back, “Pardon me if I think other people hitting on you isn’t that wonderful.”

“...b-beautiful?”

The two were staring down at one another now, eyes wide as he had realized what he said. A smile formed again on his lips. Lance took the moment to lean forward, capturing Alexys in a hot and needy kiss. One that seemed to pour all of the passion he had between them. She could feel the chapped texture of his lips. Taste the bubbling champagne and leftover strawberries of their celebration dessert the night before. The scent that she got was of his cologne and the leather of a jacket he had worn to keep warm earlier in the cab ride there. It was so uniquely and overwhelmingly Lance that she couldn’t help but fall into it, even as he pulled away. Breath hot on her lips, he murmured words only she could hear:

“The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen or been with,” He admitted with a smirk, “I love you. And I’m happy to prove it to any dicks who try to get in our way.”

Alexys blushed as she was kissed again, warmly and possessively, until the echoes of the team to ‘get a room’ separated them. As Lance blushed and she laughed, she finally came to terms with the concept of jealousy once again in the real world.

Perhaps it wasn’t too real to her, but, it was real to others...and if it meant Lance kissing her like that more often, well, she couldn’t say it was a bad thing.

[forged-through-trials]

With the Light of Dawn in my hands, I decided it was time to put the legend of this blade to the test. Ruin insisted on accompanying me this time, and I agreed that the extra muscle would be very necessary given what I’d planned to do. Of course, testing this sword meant finding some vampires. On that matter, I wasn’t sure where to start. There’s Fort Carmala, but that was quite out of our way... plus, I still have nightmares about the place. Nornalhorst was also out; the place crawled, and the vamps in there looked like they could body an ogre. Besides, if I were to die in there, Light of Dawn would just fall back into Volmyr’s hands. At least if I die somewhere else, there’s a chance the sword could be recovered. Well, Skingrad is basically the city of vampires, so maybe searching around there was a good place to start? And indeed, Ruin and I went to scout the countryside about Skingrad, looking for signs of vampires.

Jackpot! This ruin, “Vlastarus” looked like a likely place to case. Ruin and I prepped as best we could, then dove into the place, sneaking until we at last found evidence of vampires.

We were attacked almost immediately, and I stood and drew the Light of Dawn. The sight of the sword gave the vampire pause, as if she recognized the sword and its legendary reputation for slaying her kin. But she drew on me anyway, and moved in. She hissed, her fangs bared while she came at me. I defended myself, and Ruin drew up behind her. Taking attacks from both sides, her attention torn between the two of us. Of course, like most vampires, she was tankie, shrugging off otherwise mortal blows, but every cut from the Light of Dawn seemed to slow and hinder the vile creature all the more. Finally, I found a chink in her armor, and caught her in the mid section, slicing her open. That blow seemed the mortal one, I could sense it through the sword. It vibrated, and I could sense some of the sword’s blood-lust being sated as the vampire howled and fell over, blood pooling under her. The sword wanted more, I could feel it. It hungered to slay more vampires. Ruin gasped, impressed, and I similarly could hardly believe it. After weeks of fearing these creatures, weeks of shame at my inadequacy, weeks of cases being left open and unresolved, I’d done it! I’d felled a vampire! And made Cyrodiil a slightly safer place in the process. Well, that was just step one. There were more vampires to fell in these ruins, and Ruin, Light of Dawn, and I, would see to it that the place was cleared. We found a few more, and they didn’t go down easy, but between the three of us, we prevailed, felling each of the vampires in turn, and claiming the spoils from this place.

Speaking of “spoils,” among them was a strange vintage of spirits. The faded label upon the bottles read: “Shadowbanish Wine.” It looked sweet and aged to perfection, definitely something I’d want to horde in the Luggage for a while, so I pinched it, and with the treasures of this place collected, Ruin and I retreated to Skingrad to rest up and patch our wounds. After a day of resting, and thinking on what to do next, I made up my mind. With the Light of Dawn in my hands, I felt like I I was ready. It was time to return to Fort Carmala.

Ruin: “I would like to begin by voicing my concerns that this is a bad idea.” Trials: “Ruin, you’re my pal, and I love ya, but you think all of my ideas are bad.” Ruin: “It’s because you’ve had consistently bad ideas. And I do not see how this breaks the streak.” Trials: “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve, this time!” I produced twelve large potion bottles. “Skooma!” Ruin: “...” He groaned and shook his head. “Few situations are improved by taking drugs. Least of all, life-or-death struggles against vampires.” Trials: “Trust me on this one. Back in Vvardenfel, I’ve seen Skooma-addicts burst through solid stone walls while shouting: ‘OH YEAH!’ If they can do that on this stuff, I should be able to swing my sword a little harder on it.” Ruin: “Or you could tear your muscles in twain swinging harder than your body can keep up with. It could cause permanent damage, give you a heart-attack, or force you into a coma!” Trials: “Yeah, yeah, I’ve read all of the after-school scrolls, too. But that all sounds like something for Future-Trials to deal with. Present-Trials here is going to go slay her some vampires!” Ruin: “...” He groaned again, shrugging. “I will, as always, accompany you. And when you pass out after a bad Skooma trip, I will be there to drag you back out of the Fort and to the nearest healer.”

First, though, this courier will not be deterred from her appointed rounds. I had a delivery to make, bringing a package to Adrienne Berene at the Skingrad Mages Guild. Trials: “So, what’d ya order?” Adrienne: “A tracking scroll for Erthor. I’ll not misplace him again.” Trials: “...lady, not to pry, but unless you two are dating and he’s fully consented to you being his dommy-mommy, this sounds super sketchy.” Adrienne: “Look, when I want judgement from a drunk lizard, I’ll buy Druja a few pints and stop spanking her long enough to let her catch her breath.” Trials: “...Skingrad is weird.”

But once that was done, Ruin and I crossed the Great Forest. Within hours, I’d returned to Fort Carmala, the place of my previous defeat, and hopefully, the place of my soon-to-be greatest triumph! Huh... the vampires never cleaned up that dead adventurer. Poor guy, I think the vamps are using him as decoration. I sure hope that doesn’t happen to me if I don’t make it.

Once deep into the heart of this place, Ruin and I stumbled onto a nest of at least six vampires. It seemed as opportune a time as any, so I broke out the Skooma... and proceeded to chug three of them. Ruin had to fill me on what happened afterward. I don’t really remember what happened once the Skooma was down. I think chugging three at a time as a first-time Skooma-Sucker wasn’t the brightest of plans... ...I’m not entirely sure, but I think I could walk through walls. All I remember for sure was Ruin standing over me once the high had worn off. As he helped me up, I noticed that we were surrounded by dead vampires. Trials: “...what the hell happened??” Ruin: “You downed the Skooma as you had planned, then tore through the vampires like a woman-possessed. It was amazing, and frightening. I can’t believe you took three pots at once. Have you ever even taken the stuff before?” Trials: “Let’s assume ‘no’.” Ruin: “From nothing to three pots at once? You’re lucky the your heart didn’t explode.“ He crossed his arms, his snout flared. “You were reckless beyond measure.” He chided, his expression softening. “But, admittedly, this would make a very humorous headline in the Black Horse Courier. ‘Local Argonian Literally Two Tweaked To Die.’“ In my Skooma-induced madness, I’d seemingly cleared the entire Fort. So, for now, it was just a matter of searching the place and collecting the loot. I doubt Zarov was among the vampires I slew; it had been so long since I’d started that case, chances were he was long gone by now. But maybe as we collected the treasure, we might find some clue where he’d w--

--huh. I missed one. And she’s not attacking. Ruin’s hackles were raised, but I approached more cautiously, sword drawn as I spoke to the woman in red. Lucy: She was visibly frightened. “Please don’t kill me!” Trials: “Whoa. It’s... strange, being on the other side of that.” Ruin: He pointed his sword at her. “Start Talking, Vampire!” Lucy: “What do you want me to tell you? I’ll tell you everything!” Trials: “...well, let’s start with ‘who are you?’“ Lucy: “I’m Lady Lucy Varian. I was rescued from my demented husband by my savior, Baron von Zarov.” Trials: “...come again?” Lucy: “My husband is a monster! I don’t know what kind of monster, but I know he is one. Only the Baron could help me. I swear, he saved me from Baldor.” Trials: “Saved you?? Lucy, you’re a vampire!” Lucy: “I know I’m a vampire, but it was the only way to be safe from Baldor. You see, I had to be dead for him to let me go.” Ruin and I traded confused glances, before he turned to Lucy and spoke up. Ruin: “We do not understand you. Why were you so desperate to get away from him?” Lucy: “I was married to him only a few weeks, and each night I was locked up in some cage he made for me. We never even consummated our wedding... for which I’m actually glad. But, see, he is not human! No human would treat a newly-wed bride that way!“ Ruin: “There had to have been another way. Did you not try to tell someone? To call for help?” Trials: “Yeah, like Elizabetha, or Doctor Helsong.” Lucy: “I couldn’t involve anyone else. He would have killed them. We had another servant before, and I made the mistake of talking to him. I don’t know how Baldor knew I did, but soon after, the servant disappeared.” Trials: “But... but to turn into a vampire...” Lucy: “It is better to live as a creature of the night, than as a weak, sequestrated wife.” [Light of Dawn hated that.] Lucy: “Is... something wrong with your sword?” Trials: “No, no, it just has a hate-boner for vampires. Speaking of, where is the Baron, now?” Lucy: “I don’t know. He left me here with these vampires to teach me how to be one of them.” Trials: “Yeah, I kind of killed all of your trainers. My bad.” Lucy: “The Baron left for another province. He’d said he had some other matters to take care of and that he’ll be back for me soon.” Ruin: “So he just abandoned you here?” Lucy: “No, I don’t think so. The Baron is a kind and faithful friend. He saved me while he could have let me rot with my husband. It was he who devised the whole plan to make me look dead. He only wanted to protect me. I... I think he might be in love with me. Though he never actually said anything about it. He is shy and respectful like that.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Huh. So he prefers to bite than to kiss?” Lucy: “If you want proof of my husband’s misbehavior, you should explore Grayrock Cave. Elizabetha once told me that he has been seen near there quite often by travelers.” We let Lucy be, much to Light of Dawn’s chagrin, and retreated. The plot thickens! Just as we’d finally solved the case of the theft of Lady Lucy’s corpse, a new twist and wrinkle develops, and I have a new side of this case to investigate. Apparently, Lord Baldor Varian was abusing his wife, ‘silenced’ a servant, and maybe up to other horrible deeds! Are there any nobles in Skingrad who don’t have something shady going on?