#i feel like my writing was stale towards the end ;-;

[whumpbug]

i hope you don't mind another prompt from me!!

i just have a thought in my head of Simon having to do emergency first aid on Archie while in a crowd. running it well, telling specific people to grab this kit, do this, all while keeping Archie calm while he's in pain and afraid.

(plus I feel like Archie would find Simon being so smoothly in control very soothing. Simon is here. he'll be okay because Simon is here.)

- @whump-kia

i will never mind a prompt from you kia you have the best ideas on how to torture these boys (≧▽≦)

this one is admittedly not my best work BUT it was still so fun to write and broke my heart seeing archie so overwhelmed BUT HIS HUSBAND BEST FRIEND CAME IN CLUTCH

also really quick, i just want to say that i decided on archie's alias during this fic. basically, since he never had a formal name, people just started calling him "the vigilante", and then just shortened it to "vigil" so his alias that the crimelords and civilians know him by is just simply. Vigil.

OK onto the fic!

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Apparently, Archie had died and woken up in a universe where no one knew what the hell personal space was.

He had been downed in the street. His first mistake was even pursuing a chase so openly in the middle of the afternoon with civilians everywhere, but he was just so close. One of the major names in the drug ring was right there, and he almost had him.

Until the guy pulled out a gun and fired practically point blank into his side.

Archie was lying on his back, gasping for air that would not come. There were hands on him, cold hands, rough hands, calloused hands, sweaty hands, and he wanted them all off.

He let out a low whine as he tried to jerk his body away, but he only succeeded inducing an intense jolt of pain, which caused him to curl up reflexively while the hands held him in place.

“It’s going to be okay dear, we’ll call an ambulance,” A woman cooed, gently patting his chest. Get off.

“Should we sit him up to get him some air?” A deeper voice said, hand grasping his shoulder. Don’t touch me.

“No way! Is that Vigil?! I heard my parents talking about him!” A smaller voice shouted, right next to Archie’s ear. Shut. Up.

Archie knew this wasn’t like him. He always strived to be the kind, empathetic, forgiving symbol of hope everyone expected him to be, but right now, he just wanted out.

His side hurt, his head hurt, everything hurt and every tiny movement sent him biting his tongue to avoid crying out. To make things worse, he could feel the blood leaving his body through the open wound, and it was.. not a pleasant feeling. Sticky blood was pooling below his lower back and his skin began feeling clammy and cold, and he knew he was losing precious seconds and where was Simon.

A familiar buzz on his wrist brought him slightly back to the present. It was his emergency signaling bracelet. It meant that Simon was on en route, if he recalled correctly.

Thank god.

Simon had probably been alerted to Archie’s vitals dropping to dangerous levels out of nowhere, and dropped everything to get to him.

He couldn't help the weak sigh of relief that escaped him. He was content to resigning himself to the torture of these civilians manhandling him, because he knew Simon would be there soon to make it better. All he had to do was wait as patiently as he could.

Until he felt fingertips grip the edge of his domino mask.

Archie’s identity was the one thing he had to himself. He went to great lengths to ensure that no one revealed it because it was the only way he was able to live a life as a civilian where people weren’t walking on eggshells around him. And it was about to be stripped away from him.

A strangled cry tore from his throat.

Suddenly, he was thrashing desperately, despite the seething pain, trying to get everyone off of him. Everything was too loud and too bright and he was so dizzy and people were touching his mask.

His bloodied hands flew up to his face, holding his mask down and batting away the offending fingers. He needed space, he needed air, he couldn’t breathe—

“Everyone stop crowding and back up. I’m a medical intern, and Vigil is clearly in distress. Give. Him. Space.”

Archie knew that voice. He could have sobbed. 

The group of bystanders murmured, before shuffling out of the way and making room for Simon.

Simon’s scent whooshed past Archie and then settled as the bystanders gave the two a wide berth. He kneeled beside Archie, and immediately took off his sweater, balling it up and pressing it into his wound.

“Eyes on me Archie.”

Archie’s breath hitched. The world was spinning around him, whether from his hyperventilating or his blood loss or the pain, he didn’t know, but all that mattered was that Simon was here. He reached a clumsy hand towards Simon, whimpering softly. "Hurts.."

“I know, I know.. it’s okay.. I’m going to help you,” He hummed. He lifted the fabric lightly to get a look at the wound and winced. “Just.. stay awake for me, okay?”

Archie hummed noncommittally. 

“You,” Simon pointed to the man from before. “I need you to go into that shop over there and check for a first-aid kit under the front counter. The ambulance won’t get here in time.”

The man nodded and disappeared behind the door.

“And you,” Simon motioned towards the woman. “Come here and hold pressure on this.”

The woman blanched slightly, but with Simon’s guidance, she was quickly situated with her hands pushing firmly on Archie abdomen.

The man came loping back with a small box in hand.

“I got it!” He shouted, tossing it to Simon.

The next moments went by in a blur. Archie saw Simon swiftly unwrap packets of gauze, and felt the strange sensation of them being shoved into his wound, but he was too focused on forcing his eyes open to give the pain much attention. It was kind of nice honestly. Not the pain, of course but seeing Simon handle everything so efficiently. Usually, Archie felt the need to be the one always in charge, always figuring something out to help everybody else.

It felt good to have Simon fill that roll too.

He was blinking in and out of consciousness now, but every time he’d look up, he’d see Simon’s face right there, steadfast as ever, and he felt just a little safer.

Eventually, he felt himself being lifted from the ground and held close to a warm body. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until he felt Simon against him. He heard Simon barking more orders at the bystanders, presumably telling them to get out of the way, and soon, he was nestled in the backseat of his car. It was finally, blissfully, quiet.

“Just stay awake a little longer Archie.. we’re almost there,”

“Hnnng..” was all Archie could manage.

He blinked, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried up the stairs and settled into Simon’s soft couch. The couch smelled of him, and he inhaled deeply.

Simon pulled up a stool beside Archie, pulling gloves over his already bloodied hands. “Just hold still for a bit, okay? I'll make this quick.”

Again, Archie was in and out of consciousness while Simon worked to clean, suture, and dress the wound in his side. It hadn't been too bad, just bled a lot. Luckily the bullet hadn't gotten stuck in it, and it missed anything super vital. Simon had numbed the area with gel before beginning (no needles, of course), so the pain was slightly more bearable (though not by much). Once it was over, Simon saw that Archie was flagging. He decided to take pity on him.

“Wait here.”

Archie’s head lolled to the side. This was getting ridiculous. How much longer was he going to have to stay up?! For as much emphasis that Simon put on getting rest, he sure wasn’t making it easy for him.

Suddenly, a straw was being shoved between Archie’s lips.

“Drink. It’s apple juice. Once you down the cup, you can go to sleep.”

He downed the cup, feeling exasperated and spent. His eyelids were already drooping by the time he got down to the last sip. He stopped fighting it, letting them flutter close.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was a soft blanket being pulled up to his chin, and a hand slipping into his.

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[rotthepoet]

Fight - M.Riddle

Summary: Mattheo Riddle breaks your nose, and he kinda feels bad about it.

~2.3k words

Content: Modern Au, Characters are 18+, No use of Y/N, No determined house, Mattheo doesn't like using his words, descriptions of fighting and blood, maybe ooc everyone? dunno this fandom is weird i love it, mention of drug use(tobacco, weed, alcohol), Mattheo's love language is acts of service and gift giving fight me, rushed ending sorry chat i'm getting back into writing again, not proof read

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Violence isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. Not for any reason, but I suppose you really don’t need a reason to hate something so savage. I don’t like action movies, the idea of contact sports and martial arts in the muggle world is barbaric to me, and even watching beaters and chasers hurdle towards each other on the Quidditch pitch makes me cringe.

Hogwarts is full of many fights. They're unavoidable, I suppose. Occasionally, the more disorderly underclassmen will break out into a wizard’s duel. Bright flashes of light and the screams of ignorantly casted hexes will draw onlookers nearby, blocking up the already crowded hallways with a ring of students encouraging their peers with reckless abandon. In fact, there were rumors of a secret dueling club that had been organizing these fights for centuries.

However, there are only so many different hexes and jinxes to terrorize and entertain your classmates with before things become… stale. This conundrum, along with unstable hormones, had sparked a new infatuation among Hogwarts upperclassmen.

Fist-fights.

The idea was childish. Any problem imaginable could be sorted with words, or even wands, and yet both boys and girls fought nail, tooth, and, claw just for an ounce of respect. Maybe an ounce of attention. If I remember right, even an ounce of weed (This was the day many students had to undergo a veritaserum-induced interrogation.) . It was foolish, and oftentimes fights were shut down by the hands of professors within moments.

That did not seem to be the case today.

As if by some miracle, or in my case a misfortune, professors seemed to be distinctly absent from the hallways in which Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott, seventh year Slytherin’s and star quidditch players, beat each other into a pulp.

And by my luck, I was stuck at the barricade of sorts, facing the fight without obstruction as my peers tried to press closer, obscuring my exit from the situation.

The two of them screamed about who-knows-what, and they flashed between the floor and standing upright. The two of them sauntered and stumbled around, each collision of fist to skin sent my stomach reeling with nausea.

Theodore’s lip was busted and an uncomfortable looking bruise was already forming around his eye. He shrugged-more-so ripped- his robe off and swung wildly at Mattheo, making him back up.

Now, Mattheo Riddle is a tall man. A solid 6 foot if not taller, muscular build after a few years on the Slytherin’s Quidditch team. He was not someone you would want to stand up against, or really be near in general.

The crowd collectively gasped and hollered as he stumbled backwards, right towards me. Against the thick wall of students, I had no where to go. He swung his arm back, fast and powerful.

The sickening crack was all I could hear. Then all I could see were his angry eyes widening in realization that he had hit something other than Theodore. His head swiveled around, and I almost thought he would apologize before a blow landed in his gut, leaving him to curl over and writhe in pain on his knees. At this point, I believe Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had forced themselves into the ring to separate Riddle and Nott.

I don’t remember falling backwards, but I was in the strong hands of another classmate while a few people asked if I was okay. I tasted blood on my lips. Tears slipped down my cheeks heavy and hot, and blood dripped profusely from my nose.

It was Pansy Parkinson that escorted be to the hospital wing.

Pansy was a pretty girl, black hair, silver jewelry, and eyes sharper than a new blade. She wasn’t the most approachable girl I had ever spoken to, but after an assigned pairing in potions, we had become quite the duo. She rambled on about how she’ll have ‘Matt’ apologize, and how ‘the boys’ were going to be in so much shit.

My nose was broken, fixed with a simple, “Episkey!”, from Madam Promfrey, and I was sent on my merry way with Pansy at my side. She, and I do mean this fondly, droned on about how sorry she was( “Pansy, I said it was fine.” “No, it isn’t fine! Those nitwits could have done far worse-“) and how she’ll have Riddle pay me back.

“Really, he is a nice guy!”

“So I’ve heard…” I mumbled, a migraine settling in, and I had half a mind to turn back around to the hospital wing and demand enough tonic to let me sleep for a week.

“Why don’t I just take you back to my dorm and we can watch a movie, eat a few snacks. I still have a ton a chocolate frogs left from our last sleepover.”

I sighed, and gave a small smile. I didn’t really feel like it, but if it would make dear Pansy stop worrying, I folded.

The Slytherin dungeons were oddly warm considering being so far underneath the Black Lake. The stained glass casted rays of green and blue lighting among the common room, and fish swam past the great windows. The common room was nearly empty save for a few students among the chairs reading, a couple playing wizard chess, and a small group of familiar faces occupying the couches in front of the fire place.

The first to turn around was Blaise Zabini, and he greeted Pansy with a smile, then turned to me with a small wince. “How're you feeling?”

“Better now. Thank you.”

Zabini nodded, turning his gaze back to the ever incessantly whining Malfoy. Pansy rolled her eyes, and I could feel the ‘he turned me into a lesbian,’ building in her chest. We retired to her room before her own cat-fight could break out

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It was around 2 am when we emerged from Pansy’s room again, both hungry and unable to sleep even after indulging in far too many sweets. She took my hand, racing me down flights of stairs until we stumbled back into the common room with a small giggle that abruptly stopped at the sight of the same group of boys on the couch. Two new heads had joined the count, and simultaneously each turned to face the two of us.

I locked eyes with Mattheo Riddle, and he looked away.

Fucking dick.

“What was it this time?” Pansy broke the silence, dragging me to the couch now. She sat at the end, myself in the middle, and coincidentally, Riddle on my other side.

Theodore Nott, who sat across the center table from Riddle, nursing his swollen eye with an ice bag answered. “He broke my pipe.”

Mattheo Riddle rolled his eyes, “I said I'm sorry and I'll pay you back." He snapped, and Nott yelled something about that being his favorite glass.

Pansy tsk’d them, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the table, plucking herself an apple and offering me an orange. My nails, cut short due to nervous picking and biting, dug at the thick skin. I lifted my head only when I heard my name being spoken, and I met Nott’s gaze.

“How’s your nose?”

I swore he made a snide glance at Riddle, who visibly tense and turned farther away from me.

“It’s fine. Easily fixed.” I turned my gaze back to the orange, biting my cheek in frustration as my nail continued to slip from the peel. A blush rose to my cheeks in frustration.

“So it was broken. You need to watch where you’re swinging those damn elbows, Riddle.”

Riddle gave Nott the finger, and the company around us laughed. I laughed along, but sighed as I ultimately gave up trying to peel the orange. Pathetic. At least no one had seemed to notice or care.

“No one would have gotten hurt had you not been a little bitch.” Snapped Mattheo to Theodore, and his bruised hand grabbed the orange from my own so quickly I almost didn’t realize it had happened.

His fingers worked swiftly, removing the skin of the fruit before he put it back in my hands. He stood up, “I’m sick of your shit, going to bed. Don’t make too much noise when you come up.” He mumbled, and Theodore rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess.”

I stared down at the peeled orange in my hand. Slowly, I pulled a carpel from the rest of the fruit.

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Things had seemed to turn around for me, lately.

Maybe it was a lucky streak, but the bench I frequented in my free time to read had been consistently available despite being a popular spot most days. Along with that, My favorite seat in History of Magic, which had been unrightfully stolen by a group of friends, had been returned to me (It was my favorite because it's located on the far back wall, perfect for an unseen nap). I even walked into potions and found a little note of all the questions that were to be asked during the class, and all of their answers.

Pansy laid her head in my lap, whining about a girl she was pining for, while I flipped through pages of an uninteresting book on potion ingredients. She sat up slowly, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. "It's the weekend, what are we doing here? Lets go for a walk." she urged, and I grabbed my bag and followed. We walked through hallways mindlessly, chatting about the most recent rumors.

There was a yell from down the hall as we turned a corner, and before either of us could look, a body came hurdling into mine. I fell to the ground, hard enough that the air was knocked from my lungs. I gasped desperately, tears rushing to my eyes at the sudden pain of hard stone on my back, and a massive body on top of me.

It pushed itself up onto its hands, hovering over me.

I looked Mattheo Riddle square in the eye, and I could see the color drain from his face.

"Well? Get off of her!" I heard Pansy shriek, and once he had moved, Pansy helped me off the ground. I looked up at her, smiling in thanks, before I met Mattheo Riddle's gaze again. He stared at me for a moment longer, opening his mouth to say something. He shut it again, and turned away. Zabini raced around the corner, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

"You beat her up again?"

The look Mattheo gave Blaise sent a chill down my spine.

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The next day, Pansy and I found a box of chocolates outside of my dorm.

"Someone has a secret admirer!" She chimed in a sing-song voice.

I blushed a little bit at the notion. It was nice to think, but I insisted it was left at the wrong door and we should leave it. After much convincing, Pansy folded.

"I'm sure it's meant for you. You're probably hurting someone's feelings," She sighed.

"Then they should have left a note."

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It was frigid outside, the wind nipping at my nose, and I pulled my scarf further over my face. The courtyard was empty, most everyone opting to hide away in the warmth of their common rooms, and I started to feel like a fool for daring to come outside. At least it was quiet. I collected my bag, sliding my books into their place when the crunch of snow behind me sent be jumping in surprise.

I whipped my head around and audibly gasped when I met dark brown eyes.

"Do you not like chocolate?"

The question took me off guard, and I obviously took too long to answer when Mattheo started talking again.

"It's fine if you don't. I didn't really know what you would have liked," Mattheo rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking anywhere but at me. He looked nervous. Was Mattheo Riddle nervous?

"Just… It was an…" he stumbled over his words, scratching at his palm. "Y'know… Merlin, will you just say something?" he snapped, tugging on his scarf.

I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so.. small.

"You got me chocolate?"

"Did… you not get it? I left it outside of your door."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Mattheo Riddle had gotten me chocolates. Why? "I didn't think they were for me."

"Why wouldn't they have been?"

"I thought someone had just left them at the wrong door."

Mattheo looked appalled at the very notion. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep, frustrated breath. "Why would I have left chocolates outside of anyone else's door?"

"You didn't leave a note. I didn't know who they were for, or what they were for, or if they were poisoned!"

Mattheo groaned, mumbling something about Zabini lying when he said girls were clever, "Well they were for you! To… apologize! For breaking your nose, and then knocking you over, and what I was doing before just didn't seem like enough!"

My mouth felt dry, and I shook my head. "What you were doing before? You could have just said sorry!"

Mattheo sighed, "The.. the seats in class- I had detention for weeks because I knew you liked napping in history of magic, and you were struggling in potions- and.. Really I deserve a 'thank you'!"

"Well then, Thank you."

A blush crept up to Matheo's cheeks, though I'm sure it was just the cold getting to him.

"I'm sorry."

I smiled, reaching to grab my bag off of the bench. "I forgive you."

Mattheo grabbed the bag before I could, and I looked up at him in confusion as he slung it over his shoulder. 'I'll carry it for you," Is all he mumbled while pulling his scarf tighter around his red face.

[smallpwbbles]

Strawberry shortcake and Hard things to talk about.

Got another Biolizard shadow au ic for y’all, I swear this was gonna be a short thing that just had fluff. I suddenly just started going off the rails and the lil devil on my shoulder egged me on to add angst.

Hope yall like it either way (gonna start putting these on A03 if I write a third thing and it ends up longer than this one)

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Amy concluded she was going to kill them when they arrived. She sat and stewed right in front of a large tartan pink picnic blanket adorned with many baked treats she had spent an entire morning slaving over to get everything to perfection. When she baked she didn’t do it half way.

It was getting to half past four, three o’clock she had told the blue hedgehog and had texted to Rouge as direct long distance communication with Shadow was practically non existent considering how scarce the beast hedgehog liked to make himself.

Many weeks of pleading and begging him to at least join one of her picnics had led to him finally relenting and agreeing on today's outing. The pink hedgehog's excitement was uncontrollable as she absolutely exploded in enthusiasm when he finally agreed. Rouge had to keep her grounded as her eager rambles about picnic locations and recipes to bake had overwhelmed the large hedgehog causing him to promptly leave with a chaos control.

Amy forgot how easily flustered the guy got when encountered with a reaction he had no idea how to respond to. She didn’t blame him for teleporting as quickly as he did, the confirmation of his attendance was all she needed to begin preparing for the picnic.

That was three days ago, and now she sat in a small secluded park outside of station square with her tasty baked treats getting stale by the second. So, yeah she was definitely gonna give those two a good hit with her hammer if they didn’t show up in the next 5 minutes.

Speaking of the devil, a blue burr dashed right up to her picnic blanket. Amy scrambled to keep her treats from flying off the blanket due to the wind generated by Sonic as he dusted himself off looking quite frazzled, it didn’t quell her anger at his tardiness.

“You better have a good reason for being more than an hour late” she chided, Sonic was picking at a branch that has somehow got lodged into his quills most likely on the way to the park. He peeped at all the delicious treats strewn about in front of him, it didn’t escape Amy’s notice the way his face scrunched up at her strawberry shortcake. With that attitude he was gonna receive a bonk on the head with her hammer regardless of a good reason for his current punctuality.

“Sorry Ames, had a bit of a blow up in Tails workshop, was making sure Tails was okay before jetting off” Sonic explained. Well that was definitely a good reason, she began to feel a little bad at her anger towards the blue hedgehog.

“Oh my gosh, is he okay?” Amy asked, her worry quickly eased by an adorable smile from Sonic.

“Yeah yeah, the explosion was just from a faulty invention of his, there was a heckuva mess but he’s all good” he gave a thumbs up to add to assurance

Amy sighed in relief, it was good to know the little fox hadn’t got himself hurt, Tails was usually the best with machinery but had the odd hiccup here and there.

Her relaxation was replaced with alertness as she watched Sonic reach towards her pound cake, Amy slapped the outstretched gloved hand which had Sonic bring it back to himself instantly. He pouted at her as he soothed his attacked hand, Amy only rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t be rude! Shadow isn’t here yet y’know” she scolded, she loved to let people indulge in her baked goods but she believed proper etiquette was to wait for all her guests to be there first.

“Aww but we have no idea when he’ll even be here” the blue hero whined “it’s no problem if I have a piece”

“You’re a world renowned hero and can’t wait a little longer to have some cake?” she teased.

“I totally can! I just happened to not have had breakfast today, give a guy a break Ames” he protested “if was shadow instead of me you would of given him cake at the first chance”

“Maybe, but unlike you Shadow doesn’t gag at the sight of my strawberry shortcake”

“It’s not my fault it’s like the worst kind of cake” Sonic huffed. She was about to reach for the hilt of her hammer when the air began to feel hot, immediately she and Sonic braced themselves when a large field of energy popped just several feet in front of them. Just as quick as it was to appear the energy dissipated with a present Shadow replacing it. The chaos energy felt like static as it waved around the area for a moment before shadow coolly drove away the extra energy his chaos control generated.

The monstrous hedgehog searched the park for a moment before laying his eyes on the two tiny normal hedgehogs and Amy’s adorable picnic blanket under a large oak tree. It provided a nice shade from the glazing summer heat which Shadow quite liked so he began a tiny trek to the other two.

Amy had gotten used to Shadow's overwhelming presence quite quickly as did Sonic, she heard his heavy footsteps as he situated himself in front of the picnic. His large size provided additional shade from the sun which she greatly appreciated as she hadn’t expected the Temperature to rise as much as it did today. Shadow plopped himself down and awkwardly placed himself on his hind legs, his current position reminded Amy of a cat which was funny because she was sure he was only a hedgehog and lizard.

“Shadow! I’m so glad you're here” she exclaimed as she ran up to give his ankle a quick hug, he returned the gesture by placing his claws on her back gently “I managed to get Sonic here too! Isn’t that great”. The monstrous hedgehog turned to the blue hero and gave a nod of acknowledgement , Sonic returned it with a wink which Amy could have sworn had Shadow flustered for a second.

She left the ankle to return to the large blanket “I worked real hard this morning, I’ve got all kinds of tasty goods for us! I’ve got peanut butter cookie cups, rocky road, lemon drizzle, strawberry shortcake” she pointedly looked at Sonic at the last item, Shadow could only raise an eyebrow at the sudden hostility. “Oh! I also tried something new, they’re these coffee pasty knots, Rouge told me how much you love coffee Shadow so I wanted to give these a try”.

Shadows' fluffy ears perked up at the word coffee, he also couldn’t help the tinge of annoyance at his bat companion for letting slip his obsession with coffee beans. Rouge and the little hedgehogs in front of him were some of the few he trusted most, but he couldn’t help the need to keep things about himself to a minimum. He’d have a word with the bat about it later, as much as he dreaded it.

Sonic paid no attention to Amy’s list of pastries, face already stuffed with her iconic pound cake, he held two other slices in his hand. Amy commended herself for going the extra mile on the pound cake as she knew Sonic was an absolute sucker for it. She hoped he’d indulge in the other treats as she came prepared with the info that Shadow didn’t actually need to eat. It came in handy for a person like him considering his massive size and the amount of sustenance that would be needed to satisfy him if he needed to eat.

Luckily the chaos energy that inhabited every molecule of his body made the need for such a substantial amount of food non existent. Not to say he wouldn’t eat here and there, though Amy had heard he only ever ate bags of coffee beans. An odd choice of food to be consuming all the time but Amy didn’t want to judge, Shadow was an odd being in itself and she only really wanted to understand the guy. That’s what having him here for the picnic was about

Amy recalled months back when Shadow was consumed by his grief, he’d lost all he ever knew and loved to people who wanted to keep knowledge of his existence silenced. She remembered the news broadcasts that presented a monster in station square, lashing out at anything and anyone around him in reckless but anguished abandon. With hindsight she knew the fear of him was natural, but knowing his history as she did now, Amy just wanted Shadow's time on the planet to be wonderful.

She couldn’t forget, when she encountered Shadow staring upon what she later found out was his old enclosure on the abandoned ARK. He looked numb and far away, she had stood her ground and begged the giant from the depths of her heart to help the people of earth, she wasn’t sure why her words had seemed to have struck him as hard as they did but she was glad, his effort in stopping the eclipse cannon was palpable though he was greatly injured after the events and needed many weeks to recover.

She was taken out of her thoughts as Sonic began choking on what was probably his 4th serving of the pound cake, Amy rolled her eyes as the hedgehog hacked and coughed to dislodged the cake he was previously munching on. She ran over and gave him a few firm pats on the back that didn’t seem to do the job until a forefinger and thumb entered her view and flicked Sonic right on the back. It managed to dislodge the cake but the force of the flick had been too strong and sent sonic flying into some dirt a few feet away.

Amy felt bad, she really did, but she needed a second to hide her laughter at the sight, Shadow looked nonchalantly and quite a bit proud of his actions. Better for your face to be covered in earth than choking on a piece of her iconic pound cake Amy thought, she didn’t say it out loud as the expression Sonic had when he lifted himself out of the ground told her he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

————————————————————————

Sonic was currently strewn lazily across Amy’s lap while Shadow had lay out onto his forearms not too far from them. Her treats had been significantly devoured by Sonic who decided to show what a glutton he could be today. She had clapped madly when she noticed Shadow pick up the coffee pastry between two enormous claws to give it a try, she couldn’t help herself as she hounded him on how it tasted. Shadow merely gave a “it’s good” in response which to her somehow translated to it’s the best thing ever and she squeaked in flatteration. He blushed heavily and she apologised for her excitement.

She stroked the blue hedgehogs quills, she adored the guy but she was bewildered at how he didn’t notice the amount of little twigs and leaves caught in his head, sleeping on a branch of a tree was all she got in response when pointed out the reason for their presence in his quills.

Shadow looked just as lazy as Sonic did, as he lay with his eyes closed. She appreciated how calm and relaxed the beast hedgehog looked, it was far cry from the rage filled monster he was months ago, he used to looked like the living embodiment of anger. She recalled when Sonic described his first encounter with the lizard hedgehog, it was like the air itself was boiling with Shadows rage as he and Sonic had a standoff in the centre of station square.

The ferocity at which Shadow came at Sonic on that day was terrifying, meeting again with Sonic upon prison island, she was met with the blue hedgehog recovering from an attack that Tails deducted was a poisonous sort of chaos energy Shadow was able to generate. It was no wonder how Sonic got captured so easily. Though she couldn’t imagine Shadow attacking any of them with such a move now, she knew he wouldn’t admit it but he clearly had grown to like the lot of them.

She turned her attention away from Sonic to look at Shadow, his nose would twitch every so often, probably all the pollen surrounding them giving him a bit of irritation, she noticed Sonic’s Hay fever acting up a few times during the picnic, she outstretched her hand to the nose as it was the closest thing of Shadow near her, he opened his eyes at the touch of her tiny hand on his nose and sat up a bit.

“I’m really glad you're here shadow” she expressed, his face turned absolutely red and he plopped back onto his forearms, greatly trying to hide his flushed face behind them as the assertion of Amy’s gladness for his presence warmed his heart a bit too much to handle.

“I second that” sonic exclaimed as he passively pointed his finger in the sky and then to shadow. Amy hoped the extra love would make Shadow absolutely beat red but Sonic's deceleration seemed to make the Large hedgehog think hard for a moment, he sat up completely, casting a shadow over the two little hogs and gave them a hard look.

“I don’t…deserve this” his deep voice rumbled out.

That had Amy puzzled, what did he mean by that? Though she realised she wasn’t going to get an answer by looking up cluelessly at him.

“Deserve what Shadow?” She questioned, the hard look he had melted into a look of regret and guilt,

“What I did I-“ he fumbled on his words for a moment, she knew conversation was hard for him but she was patient for an explanation of his sudden rejection of their affections “I hurt a lot of people, I hurt Sonic…you shouldn’t be so kind” he finally found the words.

She watched as he fidgeted with his claws, Sonic had sat up from her lap and looked pensive at the huge hedgehog. The atmosphere had gotten melancholic at the confession, it pieced together in Amy’s mind about Shadows usual behaviour, why he made himself scarce and his refusal to do anything with their group. The most Shadow would go out and do was the top secret missions with Rouge but that was mandatory due to his admission into GUN and Amy wouldn’t count that “getting outside”.

Even then the admission had been because GUN wanted to keep Shadow under some level of control, Rouge fought hard for Shadow to work with the defence force lest they decide to lock Shadow away or at worst put him down due to fear of his power. She knew Shadow hated it and the confession he just gave concluded the acceptance of such a job was punishment for events that transpired months ago.

The humongous hedgehog had come to some sort near peace at his currently life, but the lingering, persisting guilt of everything never left him, the guilt that his very existence got his family and many other innocent people killed, the guilt of his rage that he took out on the innocents of station square and Sonic who had done nothing but try and defend his home. But especially with what led to the near firing of the eclipse cannon, which could have destroyed the planet, the only thing that kept Maria as motivated as she was to get better and live on said planet. With him.

He dug his claws into his legs, the recollection of the events began to make his head hurt, Amy rose to her feet and beelined to a claw placed close enough for her to reach “Shadow, no no we really do love having you here! What happened to you was terrible, anyone would be as mad as you were” she asserted

“It doesn’t make what I did okay” he retorted, Shadow always made sure to keep his voice down, he possessed powerful chords due to his size but in the moment, he could feel his irritation rise, she wasn’t getting it.

“It doesn’t, you're right but you felt like everyone was against you, you had just woken up and everything was different and anyone you knew was gone!” Amy argued, shadow flinched at the reminder, it was true. His emergence from stasis was followed by his brain wracking to recollect everything that has previously happened, in that moment he could only remember panic, screams and a gunshot. It was a miracle he didn’t just tear Eggman in two when initially met with the scientist's presence.

Amy needed to be careful, she could feel Shadow beginning to growl resulting in vibrations being sent throughout the ground, it shook her up a bit but her resolve stayed strong. She didn’t want him to up and leave, thinking he didn’t deserve the bit of peace he was given today.

“They’re gone because of me, it was all cause of me” Shadow refuted, Amy didn’t know what to say, his pain ran so deep yet so fresh, to him the events hadn’t transpired 50 years ago, he was here with no people that even begin to comprehend that sort of pain

“Ohhhh my GOSH, SHADOW!” Sonic exasperated, Amy had forgotten he was still sitting on her picnic blanket as he rose up pointedly and marched over to where she stood with one of Shadows claws in her arms, “c'mon you’re waaaay smarter than this”.

Amy punched Sonic on his noodley arm, Shadow didn’t need the blue hedgehog being his cocky or passive right now, she wanted to handle the current situation delicately and Sonic was asking for a bonk with her hammer with that last response.

However he surprised her with the renewal of his last response, “you don’t seriously think I would have come out here if I knew you weren’t here?” Sonic asked

“You would have came for Amy…and the cake” shadow flatly responded as he looked down at the two hedgehog’s”

“I mean yeah” sonic sheepishly rubbed the back of his head “but I wanted to be here for you too, you disappear so often and it’s kinda really hard to find you usually”.

Shadow shrank at that, he may have wanted to keep to himself and be alone, but the declaration that Sonic made began to challenge the beliefs that he was better off in doing that.

“We really are glad you’re here with us Shads, Amy’s the most honest gal I know so don’t even try think she would lie, she know what she means when she says what she does” Sonic reasoned, Amy turned to him and let a warm smile melt on her face, she really did adore him.

“I’m not even mad about those fights we had back then, that move you pulled with your chaos energy was actually kinda sick I’m not gonna lie” Sonic admitted, he truly wasn’t lying “does that move work on robots cause it would really help me out when I’m giving Eggman's robots a good thrashing”.

Shadow was nonplussed, the blue hedgehog really just had a way of confusing the ever living chaos out of him, he couldn’t comprehend why the hero couldn’t hold a grudge. He first thought the blue hedgehog's kindness was all a charade,as for the first couple weeks as he recovered from his injuries sustained from the eclipse cannon incident, Sonic would visit from time to time and in the moment Shadow believed it was to gawk or just see how defeated he’d become. It hit shadow the reason was because Sonic genuinely cared about him.

It overwhelmed Shadow, the non-rational and impulsive part of his brain just wanted to pick Sonic up like a doll and shake him until it satisfied Shadow, he instead lay himself gently on the grass and screamed into the earth.

The trembling from the screeching Shadow did shake Sonic and Amy up a bit as the latter grabbed onto the blue hedgehog for balance, they looked fixedly at the monstrous hedgehog as he finished his muffled shouts onto the earth beneath him. He merely turned his large head towards the two afterwards looking fairly calmer which was much better than the meltdown he was clearly heading towards before.

“Do you feel better?” Amy asked as she unlatched herself from Sonic's waist.

Shadow's eyes swivelled about as he seemed to think the question over, he decided a simple nod would be best to answer.

Amy was glad to hear that, but she felt she was going to undo a bit of that release of emotion with what she was about to ask, though the time for the question seemed appropriate as she couldn’t image when she could next ask him given the chance

“Shadow… back on the ARK, when I found you and asked for your help, what made you change your mind?” She finally inquired, shadows eyes fully opened at the question, Sonic turned to her questionably.

“I mean! Um- you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want, I probably shouldn’t have asked anyway sorry!” She felt embarrassment fill her cheeks as Shadow sat up to look down at her tiny form. She wasn’t sure if it was an ignorant thing to ask, but the way Shadow stared down at her made her feel it was.

He looked away from her, she watched as his chest puffed out from a large inhale then deflated from the exhale he let out. “Someone…” Shadow hesitated for a second before continuing “on the ARK, before everything happened I had someone… a friend”.

Amy and Sonic watched as he carefully picked his words, she regret her question now as the memories Shadow tried to retrieve seemed so painful, yet he persisted “she was stuck on the ARK because of a sickness, but she really loved the earth, she made me love the earth” Amy noted how wistful he looked talking about this part of his life, “when the ARK was raided and she got…hurt, she asked me that when I got to earth, I’d do everything I could to protect it, because good people on earth deserved it… I forgot that” Shadow finished

“so when I asked…” Amy was jarred, beginning to fully understand the impact of what she thought was a small plea to the lizard hedgehog.

Shadow looked beat, it seemed such a confession had taken up most of his mental energy. Amy turned to Sonic who looked just as jarred as she felt, but then he spoke up “man shadow, that’s… a lot”.

Shadow grimaced, he agreed and yet again lay on his front, the poor guy looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him up, no doubt feeling a flurry of emotions at admitting such a thing.

“Hey I don’t know how much this means… but I think you're a good person Shadow” Sonic affirmed.

Amy watched Shadow turn to Sonic, his expression made her want to just explode as she swore she could see the yellow of his sclera grow a bit misty, she couldn’t confirm as he abruptly sat up and rubbed at his gigantic eyes before declaring “I’m gonna go”.

Amy was about to argue as she felt he could use more endearment, she was stopped as Sonic placed a hand to her shoulder “no prob Shads! Why don’t you take some Amy’s snacks with you, you don’t mind do you Ames?” he offered

She realised what he was doing, Shadow did look like he needed some time to himself and Sonic was giving him the perfect out, “oh yeah! Of course not, would you take some for Rouge please, not sure when I’ll be giving her a visit so it’s better if you take them” Amy explained as she left Sonic's side to procure a few treats into a plastic container she brought in case either Sonic or Shadow wanted some cakes to take home. She placed the container into a giant outstretched claw that Shadow bent down to offer.

He rose back to full height and eyed the two little hedgehogs, said two hedgehogs enthusiastically waved as Shadow took a few ground shaking steps away from the picnic spot, he glanced a look back at them and responded with a shy wave of goodbye before promptly chaos controlling to whatever location fit for him to decompress.

Amy felt herself relax, she wanted this picnic to be as perfect as possible and while she hadn’t intended a vent session for Shadow she was actually quite glad it had. It seemed if anyone needed that today it was him, she sat back into her blanket and let out a sigh. However the feeling of relaxation began to get nibbled away by a feeling of confusion, she looked up to see Sonic with an annoyingly large grin, she felt something that would irritate her was about to come out his mouth.

“Man your cakes were just the best today Amy” he complimented, maybe she misjudged, that was very sweet of him-

“Shame Shads didn’t eat any of the strawberry shortcake, you sure it’s just me that hates the stuff?-“

The swift swing of her hammer upon his head promptly shut him up before he could continue on with the slander of her strawberry shortcakes.

————————————————————————

Rouge was having a quiet evening all things considered, she sat In her living room sipping chamomile tea from a mug adorned with the quote “another day another slay”. The peace was not long lasting as she felt a few quakes hit her building before she heard creaks and cracks coming from the top of the roof of the apartment building.

That would have been alarming to most people but Rouge had roommates of sorts, one being a homicidal robot with a dry sense of humour and the other being a 35 foot lizard hedgehog who adored the robot's dry sense of humour. She knew the commotion was caused by the latter, she had asked him to not teleport directly on the roof so it caused minor irritation to her when he had just done so again.

She made her way out of the apartment to find the set of stairs that allowed access to the roof, Shadow wasn’t one to just forget her boundaries so she hoped everything was alright with the monstrous hedgehog.

When she opened the old squeaky door that led to the cooling air of outside, she was met with Shadow curled up into a near ball, he needed to curl as the roof didn’t have much space for him to occupy when he spent his time there, the strength of the apartment complex held out well with his weight surprisingly. His quills and scales were a little bristled so she could assume the outing she badgered him to go on may have gone sideways.

She had hoped getting him to interact with others would open up the gruff exterior he led on with, but during the months she had spent with Shadow, it opened her up to many sides of the lizard hedgehog he had yet to share with anyone excluding Omega of course. He obviously didn’t owe anyone information about himself but nonetheless she felt it would be good for him.

Rouge apprehensively approached the massive being in front of her, he was breathing softly and had his arms held to himself, something she noted he did to self soothe, “Hiya hun” she called. He rolled over to address her, looking absolutely exhausted. Whatever limited social battery she saw him with this morning was practically begging for mercy at this point.

“Picnic go well? Did you have a good time?” She asked, she didn’t mean to mother him but she couldn’t help the sense of responsibility she had over him now, the gigantic face displayed to her scrunched up in thought before he let out a noncommittal noise that sounded like a “eh” to her.

Rouge deduced he was nonverbal at this point, he tended to become so when he was overstimulated. “No prob hun, you wanna talk about it tomorrow?” She asked.

His eyes silently thanked her for the out in any more talking, he gave her a firm nod that indicated there would probably be a lot to talk about tomorrow, that was fine. She sipped a bit of her tea and looked at the sun setting before them, “do you want me to stay?”

Shadow thought it over for a moment, he was really tired of talking and interaction but for some reason, Rouge asking to stay with him after today's events felt different, he looked at her and gave another firm nod. The bat flapped her dark purple wings and landed atop the beast hedgehog's head, he could manage that, he didn’t mind when it was Rouge hanging out on his person.

He thought about the first time she had offered to stay with him, it was past dark and she had no reason to be up on the roof with him. He wasn’t wondering that now.

[chlorinecake]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝟒 — a yang jungwon fanfic

𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after betraying his trust, yandere!yang jungwon tries his best to maintain a forgiving heart towards you, but things only take a turn for the worse when you foolishly refuse his rules again…

𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mild-nudity, insinuated food poisoning, abduction themes, suggestive (mentions of self/pleasure and cnc themes), swearing, violence, slow burn, crying, angst

𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k ~ Previously ⊱✿⊰

✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised

TWO DAYS HAD passed since Jungwon first confronted you about sneaking out to the greenhouse while he was away at work.

You’re certain your heart nearly pumped out of your chest once those ominous words escaped his mouth, sending a valley of chills down your spine.

Tracing back the steps you took in your mind, you’re not entirely sure how Jungwon even found out about your little adventure anyways…

Still, your soul contented itself to some degree in the simple fact that he hadn’t asked you anything about what you saw in his greenhouse…

Or better yet, what you weren’t supposed to see.

The only time you saw Jungwon in between those days were whenever he brewed you a cup of tea in the morning, or came back home from work to prepare your supper.

A suspicious inkling in your heart remained concerning his reasons for wanting you to drink the mysterious herbal concoction so routinely.

Out of paranoia, you would instead pour the shimmery liquid into the ivy plant on your nightside table, hoping that he’d never find out about it…

At the end of the day, you really did want to trust Jungwon… not that he deserved it or anything… you just felt that trusting him was the very least you could do in return.

…Especially ever since he vowed to never hurt or touch you against your will again…

“I’m sorry,” your voice began at a whisper, somehow sounding loud in the quiet of Jungwon’s presence.

You were currently in the kitchen with him, sitting at the round wooden table while he prepared you a bowl of fresh fruit from his garden.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes barely visible through his shaggy bangs as his grip around the bowl tightened slightly.

“Sorry for what?,” he asked, not sure as to why you were apologizing.

Did you do something bad without him knowing?

Did you somehow manage to go against his rules right under his nose again?

You could tell from the sudden feeling of tension in the room that Jungwon’s mind started to wander in dark places, so you knew you had to speak fast.

“M-my little incident with the greenhouse… I hope you find in your heart t-to forgive my curiosity…” you stuttered nervously, picking with your nails in your lap.

He remained quiet, breathing pattern still like a wind chime frozen in time as he turned on his heel, eyes still not meeting yours.

You watched as he reached for a spoon to drizzle honey on your breakfast, “Would you like any yogurt or granola with your fruit, love?”

You couldn’t believe he just asked you that, of all things—

“Jungwon, I’m trying to apologize here…”

“I know,” he hummed sarcastically, “and I’m trying to prepare your breakfast…”

“I… I know…,” you repeated with a sigh, hanging your head low now as the tension only grew thicker, “thank you, Jungwon… just the fruit and honey is fine…”

He was pleased with your obedience to his subtle cues, bringing the bowl to you with a silver spoon perched in its side, “You're welcome…”

And with that, the stale morning continued as usual, you and Jungwon barely exchanging any small talk as the nearby sun rose to its fullest extent.

He never explicitly said that he forgave you for sneaking out into the greenhouse that day, but it elated him nonetheless that you took a small step to compliance.

About another hour had passed after you both finished breakfast together before Jungwon received a call from his boss, saying that he could have the day off because of a blackout in the city.

That meant you and him would be spending the entire day together, an occurrence that rarely even happened on the weekends given his busy work life.

Jungwon was always busy, so he claimed… which only made you question how he was able to stalk you all those months before abducting you.

You quite seriously couldn’t believe a single word that escaped his serpentine mouth—

“I want to show you a creative piece I've been working on in my greenhouse for you,” he began with gentle enthusiasm as you two spent some time rearranging the bedroom.

Or more accurately, while you sat on the bed, watching him add three extra locks to your bedroom door.

You didn’t respond yet as you didn’t know what to say, so he busied himself with neatly putting away his work tools before standing up from the ground to meet you.

“I hope you don't mind that I kept the dress you wore on your first day here,” he continued bashfully, “I used it to come up with your measurements for the dress.”

He also used it to please himself in eery hours of the night while he thought of a whiny you squirming beneath him, but he'd rather keep that part private for now...

His freshly calloused hand found yours as he joined the spot beside you on the mattress, pulling you back into the moment with a pleasant expression on his angelic features.

It was a shame how someone so demented could be so beautiful.

“What's wrong, my love? Did you spoil the surprise for yourself that day you went snooping around without my permission?” Jungwon interrogated frantically, worried that the blank expression on your face had something to do with his mentioning of the dress.

And it did, but not for reasons he assumed.

“God, you saw it already, didn't you? Please don't hate me ____, I know it didn't look like much at the time, but—”

“Jungwon—”

“I made a few finishing touches since then, but it looks way better now, I promise... I'm so sorry for not hiding the surprise from you better—”

“Wonie,” you said a little louder this time, making his guilt-stricken eyes soften slightly at your use of a nickname.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head with a light-hearted chuckle before running a hand through his thick brown locks, “Guess I kinda rambled a bit there, didn't I?”

“Just a little,” you agreed, patting him on the back as he rested his elbows on his thighs while sitting.

If only you could feel the way his crooked heart fluttered at your simple initiation of physical touch.

“And I didn't see your project in the greenhouse, by the way... only a naked mannequin and some plants… so please, don’t stress yourself out over that,” you reassured in a soft tone, almost as if cooing to the hurt child inside him…

“I appreciate everything you do for me, Jungwon… you know that…,” you confessed in the stillness, an odd sincerity behind each word.

“Thank you for saying that, my love... but as a committed pair, my duty is to please you, and that's all I could ever aspire to do so long as you keep pleasing me...” his voice trailed off ominously, your eyes watching as little sighs kept leaving his body…

It was a strange thing, really...

Seeing such an intimidating person falter to reverence… insecurity.

You wondered in your mind exactly what Jungwon meant by you pleasing him, but you decided to keep quiet for the meantime instead of asking.

Suddenly, he lifted himself from the bed, turning to face you with a seemingly restored countenance as he spoke, “I can't wait for you to try on the dress though, ____... I just know you'll look absolutely divine once its on you... Ready?”

“Ready,” you smiled, taking his extended hand in yours as he guided you out of the bedroom and to his forbidden greenhouse.

YOUR BODY STIFFENED as stone, your lungs hardly remembering to breathe as Jungwon’s cold hands stripped you of your clothing layer by layer.

You stood in front of him, now only in a washed-out pair of lace panties and thin bralette, a wooden stepping stool placed beneath your feet which strangely resembled a pedestal.

The sound of metal clothes hangers sliding into each other hit your ears as he rummaged through the wardrobe in between one of his gardening shelves.

Meanwhile, your eyes scanned the room before inevitably falling back onto the sight of two mannequins, one whole and another headless.

From the looks of it, you almost couldn’t believe that Jungwon had designed either of the pieces himself, let alone crafted them by hand.

Despite how Jungwon had proved to you multiple times that he was a jack of all trades, his array of skills never seeming to fail.

The red dress you watched him carefully remove from the mannequin was the one that belonged to you.

It’s neckline was made up of fancy lace, dried out field flowers trailing the accented seams.

The waist of the dress was decorated similarly, an array of gorgeous flowers with warm hues floating idly atop the skirt of feathery fabric, ballon-like sleeves completing the look with a mocked neckline.

The piece, in short, was lovely, Jungwon having brought with him a pair of silk white leggings and sliding them up your dainty ankles as would a servant before his queen.

It was evident all over his face that he took such delight in dressing you, hands respectfully adjusting your undergarments and fastening the makeshift zipper up your spine.

With delicate hands, he straightened out the fabric over your shoulders and down your waist as needed before stepping back to get a full look at you.

“My precious blossom...” he began adoringly, observing how the thin material draped over every ethereal curve of your body, and how the coloring palette complimented your natural one as if it were the only dress you were ever meant to wear.

"You're glowing," he almost whispered this time, voice so light that it tickled you when it touched your skin.

“Thank you,” you replied with a similarly gentle tone, not quite sure on how to respond to his enamor for you.

Pacing back towards you, he took your hands in his, looking almost as if he was holding back tears once his feline eyes met yours, “What do you think, my love? Did I do a just job for you?…”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled, abandoning one of his hands so you could swipe the moisture from his eyes, watching as he nearly purred at your action, “I love it…”

“And I’m so happy you do,” he replied, gentle touch grazing your wrist as he continued to admire the view of you in his unique piece.

“I have a question, though,” you started shyly, still watching his face in case there’d be an unpredictable change of emotion.

He simply nodded, feelings as though he was in a sleep-like state from how lovesick he felt right now, “You may continue, my love…”

“Okay,” you went on, swallowing any nerves building up in your throat before speaking, “What compelled you to design such a dress for me in the first place?”

A prolonged silence meddled between you two at the question up until he giggled slightly to himself, confusion washing over you at the sight of his now full-smile.

“Has it really been that long, love,” Jungwon asked in a half-serious tone, “for you to not even remember anymore?”

“Remember what?” You asked back, using the most polite voice you could muster.

“Remember that you’re my little flower, silly,” he smiled eerily, pinching one of your cheeks in a way that triggered a fear response within you.

Fortunately though, you did a good job of concealing it this time…

I’m not a flower, Jungwon, a voice similar to your own weakly choked out in desperation, trying to trigger a memory.

“I…. I’m not sure I fully understand,” you admitted, not even aware of how your legs stiffened, or the way your heart started to pulse as if you’d just been in a fight.

“Your rebuttal,” he clarified, “in the woods that day… it rang true to my ears,” he said, still tracing your skin with his touch.

“Jungwon—”

“Let me finish… please,” he interrupted sternly before tilting his head at you. “You brought something very important to my attention that day… and it was that every flower ought to have petals…”

He stopped in his words, hoping that you would understand, and to some degree, you did.

All of this, from day one… was to make sure that you, as his flower, blossomed accordingly…

The tea he ‘watered’ you with every morning…

The rays of sunlight he valued synonymously with any other form of nutrition you received…

The dress he designed for you with his own hands…

And the initial nickname he graced you with since as long as you could forget…

Jungwon loved you from the depths of his stony heart, and he had a very strange way of expressing it to you at times.

Though, now that you were complete with a set of more petals than he could possibly count, the last step was for Jungwon to make sure he took good care of you so you wouldn’t wither away…

So you wouldn’t have to perish like the last girl did…

THAT EVENING, JUNGWON brought you back to the garden just outside the main cabin on the land lot.

You sat quaintly, hands folded in your lap as he toiled in the flower bed, the knees of his dark blue jeans turning dark with moist soil.

"You look rather bored," he started, a glint of playfulness in his eyes, "care to give me a hand?"

"Sure," you replied apprehensively, getting up from the wooden bench you sat at and joining him at the seedling patch.

"See that shovel over there," he asked, directing your attention to its auburn handle a few feet away from you, "use it to sprinkle a bit of fertilizer over these here flowers, please."

"Okay," you obliged, a little grunt escaping you as you reached forward to grab the shovel, Jungwon's eyes trying their best not to follow the curve of your outstretched figure, the sounds you made doing enough to tingle his imagination.

"Is everything alright? You look warm," you said, observing the slight hue rushing to the apple of his cheeks.

"Oh- No, I'm alright," he said with a reassuring smile, reaching in his side pocket to pull out a pair of gardening scissors.

You busied yourself with sprinkling the flower bed with fertilizer, meanwhile, the distant sound of Jungwon snipping a few plants filled your ears alongside the peaceful melody of songbirds.

Your mind couldn't help but think of the day he made you kill one of their kind... the day he made you steal another creatures freedom, just as he had done to you-

"What're you picking?" You asked, not meeting his eyes as you dusted a bit of dirt from your hands.

"Just some herbs for your tea," he answered in a quiet voice, focusing most of his mind on the task at hand, "the ones in my greenhouse withered out somehow, but I'm glad I had a few back-up plants out here..."

Your eyes followed as he continued to snip, colorful leaf and flower bud remnants falling into the mini mortar bowl he held in his free hand.

"Do you recognize all the plants you farm by name?"

"Pfft... of course I do," he chuckled, "I've been a man of the garden my whole life," he added. "These purple ones here are called valerian, the vibrant ones passion flowers, and the red ones are poppy's... though, I often mix these with berry brews in your tea..."

You took a mental note of the names he listed, "And do you have a botanical book by any chance-"

"You're asking a lot of questions again, love," he said, voice sounding a bit cold even though his face remained just as friendly.

"S-sorry," you apologized timidly, hanging your head low as the evening wind picked up, blowing sprinkles of wildlife into the air as Jungwon turned his head to avoid getting anything in his eyes.

"Let's head back inside now," he said softly, "it's getting late."

You got up from the ground, holding your day-dress at either side of you as if it already hadn't been soiled from the soggy flower bed, Jungwon guiding you back to the cabin with a protective hand around your waist as the wind continued to beat at your backs.

Promptly upon being met with the warmth of the main cabin, Jungwon locked the door behind you two before making his way to the kitchen where he set a kettle on the stovetop.

Meanwhile, he had ran you a bath so you could get washed up in the nearby restroom down the hallway, cleaning yourself with haste and changing into a fresh pair of clothes.

The tea kettle was whistling angrily in a matter of minutes, Jungwon having crushed the collection of herbs and berries with the pestle in his bowl and pouring the scalding water right over it.

With a skilled hand, he drizzled a bit of honey at the bottom of your teacup, transferring the brew right over.

Clink... clink... clink.

Jungwon gave the mixture a few stirs with a metal spoon before deciding to himself that it was ready.

"____," he called after you from your bedroom in a sing-songy voice, waiting for a now-refreshed you to meet him on the mattress.

The feline eyed boy held the warm cup tenderly in his grasp just as you returned with a damp head of hair and natural glow.

"It's time for your tea, love," he reiterated, scooting over on the bed as you didn't hesitate to join the spot beside him.

He opened your hands before placing the cup within your grasp.

There was something about the expression on his face in this moment... a knowing look displayed on his cat-like features as he eyed you fiercely, waiting for you to take the first sip.

"I added a new ingredient to it this time, too," he went on, breaking the odd silence, "not that you'd even notice a difference in the taste since you never drink it despite my instructions to."

Your heart nearly rolled from your chest and onto the prickly wooden floor at his sudden words.

"W-wha... what did you say," you stuttered nervously, tightening your grip around the teacup.

"Oh, please... you didn't think I'd catch on to the ivy's pot and soil being over-soaked so frequently?" He challenged, shaking his head at you in disappointment that you even thought you could get away with lying to him.

Again.

"The poor thing almost died because of you," he continued, taking in your anxious body language even though your eyes failed to meet his daunting ones.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted with a shaky voice, knowing that with Jungwon, it was better to say something, even if it was stupid, instead of saying nothing at all.

He hummed at your reply before speaking again, "So I'll ask you a question instead... how come you never drink it? I mean... you're not a picky eater, so there must be some other reason... isn't there?"

You let out a hesitant breath, "Jungwon, I don't know what you want to hear, but-"

"I don't want to hear anything but the truth, ____," he clarified with an exhausted huff, keeping his eyes on you as if pleading.

"Now don't keep me waiting with your nonsense because you already know how I get when you do that to me..."

“I…I just,” you stumbled over your speech, struggling to maintain eye contact with him as his gaze practically pierced you.

“You don’t trust me,” he finished for you, shaking his head at your failure to even deny it. “You genuinely think that I’d do something bad to you,” he scoffed while clenching his jaw, “even after that pathetic little promise I made to you…”

That’s when you felt the cup harshly leave your grasp, a bit of its liquid spilling onto your lap as he abruptly stood up from the mattress.

A scornful look took over his delicate features, throwing his head back before drinking the tea in one big gulp, wiping the remaining residue from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, “There… you see?! Not that hard, right love?”

You meant to respond but he already paced out of the room by now, coming back in less than a minute with the kettle in his hand, refilling the teacup he’d just drank from.

Smiling facetiously at your nervous frame, Jungwon pushed your legs open with his own, now standing dauntingly between them.

You were still sat on the bed, legs trembling at either side of his thighs as his broad shadow nearly consumed your lesser one, eyes rising to meet his nightmarish face thanks to his hand guiding your chin upward.

You didn't like this one bit, the cold air of the room hitting your core now that your legs were spread open, nor his body being positioned right between you.

He tilted his head, your eyes brimming with fearful tears that every bone in your body tried to push down with the growing lump in your throat that you couldn't swallow.

“So do it then,” he went on sternly, voice not raised but just as impactful, “Take the fucking cup and drink it.”

There was a certain beast imbedded behind Jungwon's contrastingly angelic face... it was always hungry, waiting for whatever enticing peep-hole of a chance was provided for him to squeeze through.

And as perverted as it sounds, that same hole of temptation laid right within you, hidden behind a dainty nightgown that acted as wrapping paper to a precious gift.

With every day that passed, Jungwon could feel himself crawling despairingly closer and closer to its rim, praying that he might someday spill over the edge and be basked in all its glory...

The very glory he placed on your purity since day one, seeking after it as if it'd rescue his corrupted soul.

You had no other choice but to heed to his words, parting your lips with a broken whine as his grip on your face tightened.

He refused to bring the cup to your lips, watching as if entertained once you lifted the cup over his hand, letting the tea meet your dry tongue.

“Swallow it,” he ordered, looking into your eyes before the feeling of warmth hit your stomach almost instantly, the teacup now being empty.

“Wonie,” you choked out, a single tear gliding down the supple curve of your cheek as his free hand set the cup on the nightstand, only to find your lips and toy a thumb at it.

“What is it love?” He whispered in a hoarse voice, peering impossibly close to your face as his grip remained tight.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” you yelped weakly, lips twitching with fear that only continued to multiply within you now that he'd pushed your back against the mattress, caging you beneath him.

“And without supper?” He taunted, whispering these words right under your ear as your hands trembled at his chest.

“Yes,” you blurted out with heavy breaths, “I’m no longer hungry, Jungwon…”

He let your words sink in, taking in just how scared you seemed when he hadn't even done anything yet.

The way you feared Jungwon used to bother him, but now he started to see an advantage in it... an advantage in the way you crumbled into submission before him.

“Very well then,” he said, hands finally leaving your chin with a few red marks still remaining on your skin from the pressure, “sleep well, my love...”

☆ Thank you all so much for reading this piece! I always love how interactive you guys are in the comments with this story and it truly brings a smile to my face !! On a side note though, this part turned out much longer than expected, so apologies for the cliffhanger ;-; ... to be continued hehe ;)

☆ taglist:  @squoxle @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled  @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @nikisvanillaccola @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee  @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07 @tubatusoobs  @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies @guessm0del @ayadikreino @destairea @jakehooni @jjungwonss @nikilvr @jays-property @moonchus @angelicjungwon @wonniesdoll @rosiemiayyxy @rinirumi @noviadebeomgyu @pochacco-o @hapeynaaa @ikngh @maspire @mamuljji @hnnhj @legendarycowboywinnerlawyer @enhypenlovre @stxrboyjae @f4irynono @03sunoos @itwasrem @laurradoesloveu @lalalalovelalalasworld @honestimage @ro-0327 @stwberrykooki @heelvrr @wonbinisbabygurl @jungwonloveer @jungwonsmybf @kayoiw @lovelycassy @mrswolfhard3 @theothernads @junieshohoho @wonheartz @jongsbie @candewlsy @kotazuken @moonchus @laurradoesloveu @millieinyourarea @straightondryland

[unlicensed-queer]

I'll be your Shield and your Salve

Summary: When a rowdy crowd shows up to the Roadhouse Dalton's annoyed, when one grabs his girls ass he's a little more than annoyed

Pairing: Elwood Dalton x Reader (imagined as female but could be gn, mentions reader wearing a skirt)

Warnings: Non-consensual groping, non-graphic violence, panic attacks, over all descriptions of sexual harassment, reader feeling dirty afterwards.

Words: 1,223

Notes: hooo this was supposed to be a lot more campy and a lot less angsty. Special thanks to @charliehoennam for helping me with a writing slump and to @aaronhotchnersswifee for the idea! This is my first time posting a fic, I hope everyone enjoys it ❤️

You were standing at the bar, pouring drinks, charming customers and cleaning glasses. The band, a group of middle aged men, two of which were probably named Darryl, played energetically, filling the bar with lively music. A man with a bushy gray beard played the washboard, thumping and scraping the beat. Everything was perfect. Dalton sat at the end of the bar, looking perfectly relaxed and tapping his foot with the music. He caught your eye and tapped the bar with his knuckles for a refill.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dive like this?" He asked, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. His voice was low and smooth, like melted chocolate in those Lindor commercials.

"Oh you know," you sighed dramatically, putting on a forlorn face as you opened another beer for him, "got dragged down here by my dumbass boyfriend, can you believe he decided to be a bouncer in Hicksville, Florida?" You teased. Dalton laughed sarcastically

"You always wanted to live on the beach, princess" He laughed, giving you that dopey grin that made your belly flip. As he turned back to watch the bar a roaring came from the parking lot. Loud voices and boots crunching on gravel drifted in through the windows. Dalton bristled, on alert.

Three men in tattered vests and leathers swaggered into the bar, shouting at customers and each other and reeking of booze. A tall man with dirty white hair and yellowed teeth slumped on the bar, leering at you

"Heyyy cupcake, pour me a drink will you? Needa..wet my whistle." His eyes drifted over your shirt, his gaze felt slimy, dirty. You gritted your teeth, trying to push off the shivering feeling of disgust. You poured him a beer, sliding it towards him with a forced smile.

The guys were unpleasant but so far they hadn't actually done anything wrong. They just sat at a table in the middle yelling and drinking. You were walking over with a tray of drinks they had ordered and setting them on the table when you felt one of them grab your thigh and squeeze. You froze, your blood ran hot and cold at the same time. Just as you turned to slap the guy in the face you felt a tall shadow over you.

"Alright buddy time to leave" Dalton's voice was scarily calm and friendly sounding. His smile didn't melt the frost in his eyes as he looked down at the man who had groped you. You hadn't seen him this mad since the biker gang had burned down the bookstore.

The men all ooo'ed mockingly, swaying as they got up. The same man who had looked you up and down earlier got up in Dalton's face, yellow teeth bared in a derisive grin.

"What's the big deal? Just having a night out with my boys" he slurred. The man was foul, reeking of booze, sweat and stale tobacco. Dalton made no reaction except wrinkling his nose slightly

"We don't allow harassment here" Daltons smile was looking more and more like a dog's bared fangs. The man snorted, looking around at his friends in disbelief.

"You gon' let yer waltz 'round in that leather skirt.." he paused looking at you in a way that made you want to throw up, "N' get mad when I wanna feel what she's got on show?"

Dalton's fist swung into his jaw with a sound crack. Angry shouts and protests rose from his gang, some starting towards Dalton. You scrambled back against the bar as Dalton set to work. The anger didn't affect him the way you thought it would. He wasn't erratic or emotional, he was coldly efficient, knocking each of them to the floor quickly and cleanly. Less than 5 minutes and each of the men were dumbstruck and the security was dragging them out by their shirt collars. Your heart hammered as you watched, still feeling the place on your leg where the man had groped you, it felt grimy and wrong.

You worked the cleanup shift in a daze. Dalton and you drove home in silence, Dalton's knuckles were white and red on the steering wheel. When you were home you got in the shower, scrubbing your body with a rag and holding back the rising panic in your chest. You were so absorbed in the action you didn't notice Dalton come into the bathroom and step into the shower behind you. He didn't speak, he just pulled you to his chest as you dropped the rag and began to cry. He rocked side to side lightly, holding you tightly.

"I'm so sorry" he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You didn't know how long you were in the shower, crying into his chest as he whispered comfort to you. At some point he began moving, lathering up a rag and gently running it over your body. The contrast between the pillow soft lathered rag and your frantic rough scrubbing was night and day. Dalton carefully rubbed the rag over your entire body then helped you step under the water. He kissed each part of your body as the bubbles washed down the drain. It wasn't sexual, there was no heat in his touches or his lips, only love and reassurance. Every caress and kiss seemed to say, 'I love you, you aren't dirty, it wasn't your fault'. The tears flowed down your face like poison sucked from a wound and you hugged Dalton when he stood again, he kissed you and turned off the water. As you stood in the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist before taking a soft towel and drying you off. The insecure part of you squirmed at letting him do everything for you, anxious about being a burden, but the larger part let Dalton guide you through the exhausted haze.

When you were dry Dalton pulled one of his t-shirts over your head and picked you up, holding you to his chest like one might carry a sleepy child inside from the car. You closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder, half asleep. You felt him walking around, hearing things clinking and the click of the electric kettle. At first you tried to track his steps to see where he was without opening your eyes but eventually you let his soft humming lull you to calmness.

You must have dozed off because soon Dalton was setting you on your bed and placing a cup of tea on the nightstand. He sat behind you and pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Made you some tea and toast with peanut butter and bananas. There some milk to, in case the peanut butter gums up your mouth" he murmured, voice rumbling through his chest and into your back. Your heart could have burst with affection for him. Even though you would do all this for him in a heartbeat, it was still amazing the lengths he went to just to make you happy and safe. The scene at the bar felt more distant now, like a nightmare gone hazy with age. Right now you were safe and warm in Dalton arms, with food, tea, and all the love you could ever dream of.

[stayxlix]

Ok ok so feel free to bend and change this request to your liking. I been asking some of my favorite writers to try this request to see what they can come up with and I’m excited to see what you can do with this.

I was wondering if I can request a Felix story. Where y/n is dating hyunjin felix best friend and Felix at the beginning feels really guilty for liking her so much and always thinking about her. And one time when hyunjin leaves the reader and Felix alone, Felix snaps and kisses her which kinda freaks her out so he has no choice but to kidnap her because of his own jealousy and want. It’s a yandere type of story. If you don’t feel comfortable writing something that I request you can totally bend the story to your liking to feel more comfortable. Thank you ❤️

a/n: hiii<33 here it is FINALLY!!! i have to admit a yandere concept is something i had never thought about writing myself but im so happy you requested this type of concept because stepping out of my comfort zone is something i really enjoy, and i did take your input to shape the story in a way that felt comfortable for me.<3 im so thankful that you chose to trust me with your request, and that you consider me one of your favorite writers.🤗💕i really hope it lives up to expectations.🤭 (also i apologize in advance for the abrupt ending, that is the part i struggled with most so please forgive me for the massive cliffhanger🥹).

wc: 3.8k

pairing: yandere!felix x reader (f), hyunjin x reader (f)

warnings: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, male masturbation, 18+ **minors do not interact**, please lmk if i missed any!!

The moment you stepped into Felix's life, it was as if a match had been struck in a dry forest, setting off a wildfire of emotions. From the very first time he’d laid eyes on you, Felix felt the heat of that blaze ripping through his soul. And if only you had taken the time to look—really look—into those deceptively innocent brown eyes, you might just have been able to see the flames raging behind them before it was too late.

Felix was a good friend. A loyal friend.

As a result of his tendency to put his friends first, he often found himself dragged into situations he had no desire to be a part of.

And tonight was no exception.

Tucked away in a corner underneath the dim, multi-colored lights of a crowded party, Felix stood nursing a half-empty cup of stale beer that had long lost its appeal. Boredom gnawed at him, urging him to leave, yet he lingered. His eyes darted to the entrance every so often with the desperate hope that Hyunjin—the sole reason he had even chosen to attend the party at all—would be next to walk through.

But as the minutes dragged on without any sign of his best friend, Felix's frustration grew. The obnoxious music was far too loud, the alcohol not nearly strong enough to dull the disappointment of the evening, so Felix huffed out a sigh as he reached for his phone. Bypassing his earlier unanswered messages to Hyunjin, he typed out one final message to let his best friend know that he was calling it a night and would meet him back at their shared apartment.

After pressing send and shoving his phone back into his pocket, Felix pushed off the wall. Tossing the cup into the nearest trash, he turned toward the exit. But before he could take a single step further, before his foot had even hit the ground, he was gripped by a sudden shift in the atmosphere—a change that swept through the room. Through Felix.

The door swung open and in the split second that followed, the party around him was dulled into nothing but a distant hum. To say that Felix was captivated by the figure that walked through the door would have been an incredible understatement.

Unable to look away, a shallow breath caught in his throat as his gaze traced the contours of the stranger’s body— of your body—the way the dress clung to your figure underneath the soft tangerine glow of the flickering party lights. The way long slits in the black material revealed teasing glimpses of your silhouette in the most enticing way.

You stepped further into the room, and it was almost as if an unseen force had guided your focus toward Felix, too. Because as your eyes swept over the chaos of the party, they effortlessly bypassed the rest of the crowd and landed directly on his.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you caught the intensity of his stare, yet the glint in your eyes hinted at something far less innocent. And it was right then and there that Felix decided that he had to know you, to feel you—taste you. In every possible way.

Driven by some unexplainable primal desire, his feet began to move of their own accord. He shouldered through the crowd, anticipation electrifying the air around him as he took a step closer to you. One step closer, and then another and—

Then Hyunjin walked in behind you. 

In such a cruel twist of fate, Hyunjin followed you through that door. And with the confidence that only Hyunjin could exude, his arm casually slipped around your shoulders, claiming you as his own. 

Felix's stride faltered as he came to a sudden stop. His heart plummeted, a heavy weight settling in its place as he watched you turn to Hyunjin. Your smile grew, blossoming into a radiant expression that drove a dagger straight through his chest.

Laughter cut through the air like shards of glass as he registered the uncomfortable press of sweaty bodies that danced too close. The rhythm of the music throbbed louder than ever in his temples, its bass pounding a relentless echo in his chest that only amplified the emptiness he felt as he watched from across the crowd as Hyunjin leaned in to whisper something to your ear. Something meant for only you to hear.

You turned your head and planted a brief, affectionate kiss on Hyunjin's lips in response, and the single dagger in Felix's heart was replaced by a thousand.

When Hyunjin glanced up from the kiss, his eyes immediately found Felix lingering in the crowd. Warmth spread across his face as the familiar smile he reserved for his best friend lit up the room.

Felix lifted his hand in a single wave—an attempt to appear casual and completely unaffected by the way your fingers seamlessly intertwined with Hyunjin's as the older boy began to lead you over.

The space between you was reduced to less than a foot—thanks to the pressing crowd—and in that close proximity, Felix found himself engulfed by the subtle scent of your perfume. Its sweetness was reminiscent of a warm summer evening, enticing his senses just enough to leave him wanting more.

After apologizing for his dead phone battery, Hyunjin strained to introduce you over the music. Every syllable of your name echoed through Felix’s mind, and as Hyunjin went on to recount the story of how the two of you had met, his voice became nothing more than a distant murmur. Quite frankly, Felix didn’t really care how Hyunjin had been fortunate enough to know you first. So he tuned out his best friend and dedicated the entirety of his focus to stealing glances in your direction, struggling to keep his gaze from lingering too long. And Felix decided that not only were you stunning, but your aura, too, was nothing short of magnetic. Confidence radiated from you in a way that was just as intoxicating as the sweetness of your fragrance. Your eyes, however, refused to leave Hyunjin. And Felix couldn't help but wonder what he would have to do to capture your attention like that.

But Felix was a good friend.

So like any good friend would, he pushed away the thought. He clenched his fist and drew in a steadying breath. With significant effort, he plastered a smile across his face—one that didn't quite reach his eyes—and turned to his best friend. "I was actually on my way out," he said. "Not feeling well, sorry mate.”

Hyunjin frowned at the interruption. His eyes glazed over with worry as he studied Felix’s face before reaching over to offer him a reassuring pat on the back. "Sure, man,” he said. “Take care. See you back home.” And Felix didn’t need to wonder why Hyunjin didn’t push him any further to stay. If he were in Hyunjin’s shoes, he would’ve don’t the very same thing—if only for the opportunity to have you all to himself.

Felix almost regretted his decision to leave when you stepped forward and met his eyes for the second time that night, your delicate features softening in a way that made his knees weak.

"Nice meeting you, Felix.”

Fuck.

The way your voice wrapped around his name, the way it rolled off your tongue had his cock straining in his already too-tight pants.

“Hope you feel better,” you added, with a smile so saccharine it had Felix feeling far more intoxicated than any amount of alcohol ever could.

Somehow, he managed a weak nod in your direction before dropping his gaze and hurriedly making his way to the door. His heart hammered in his chest like a desperate plea, urging him to stay and grasp at the fragile thread of hope he’d felt when he first laid eyes on you.

But Felix was a good friend.

And so he fought the urge to look back as he stepped outside. The night air wrapped around him, cool against his skin, but the fire inside him burned brighter than ever as you stoked the flames in his mind.

—

Upon returning to their shared apartment, Felix found no respite in the solitude of his room. He tossed and turned in the darkness, putting every ounce of effort he had into forcing thoughts of you from his mind.

The rational part of him recognized the boundaries, the loyalty owed to Hyunjin..And he tried—he really did. Even as his hand crept down to palm the growing bulge in his boxers, he knew it was wrong. But his fingers betrayed the internal conflict, slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around the base of his pulsing cock. His eyes screwed shut as he tugged slowly, picturing how your lips would look wrapped around it—how your mouth would feel, how your eyes would look shimmering with tears when you choked on it. He edged himself, because Felix liked to mix pleasure with pain. And just as he was finally about to grant himself the release he so desperately craved, Felix was yanked back to reality by the soft thud of the front door closing.

Hushed whispers began to fill the silent space on the other side of his bedroom door. Felix immediately recognized his best friend’s voice, accompanied by—

Yours.

Felix stilled with his hand still wrapped around his cock. He listened to the shuffling of footsteps, hushed laughter, and then, the decisive click of Hyunjin's bedroom door closing—and locking.

His thoughts immediately went to the possibilities playing out on the other side of the shared wall. And it didn’t take long before sounds of pleasure filled the air, growing into filthy sounds of skin slapping on skin. Felix couldn't believe his ears as the sweetest moans he’d ever heard began to seep through the cracks in the wall. Moans coming from your mouth as you were getting fucked by his best friend. Your voice rose, spewing Hyunjin’s name like some prayer, and Felix was certain he had never been this hard in his entire fucking life. Panting, his eyes screwed shut and suddenly he was pumping his cock again two—three more times until he heard you shout, “F-fuck Hyunjin I’m cumming!” and Felix came with you. The hardest he ever had, thick ropes of white shooting across his abdomen. 

After he’d finished and was thoroughly disgusted with himself, Felix lie there hoping that he wouldn’t have to interact with you in the morning. That you would be gone before the sun rose—following the pattern of those before you who had occupied Hyunjin's world for a single night. Although Felix was positive he would never find anyone quite like you, he could get over you—he would force himself to get over you, because of the unwavering loyalty he held for his best friend who had been by his side for as long as he could remember. 

Felix didn't even know you. And so, it should be easy enough to forget you, he thought.

Straightforward.

Already done.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t. Because as the weeks unfolded, it became painfully clear that your presence in Hyunjin's life—and thus, in Felix's life—would become far more profound than any fleeting one night stand. 

In the beginning, Felix had done a decent job at maintaining his distance. But the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to contain whatever it was that was burning inside of him. And it certainly didn’t help that Hyunjin insisted on weaving you into their lives. Inviting you to their late-night movie marathons, welcoming you to their favorite hangout spots, ensuring that you were always included in their plans. Felix found himself torn between the agony of watching you grow closer to his best friend and the sheer ecstasy of having you near.

Naturally, Hyunjin remained blissfully unaware of the effect you had on Felix, too wrapped up in you himself. But Felix was a good friend, determined to ensure that his commitment to his friendship would prevail. And he couldn’t deny the happiness you brought into his best friend's life. He had never seen Hyunjin so content—his expressions more animated, his laughter more genuine, his smiles more frequent than ever before. So Felix gritted his teeth and buried his attraction beneath layers of forced indifference. He put on thoughtful expressions when you spoke, despite the fact that the only thing he could think about was slipping his aching length between your legs. He smiled at you, and pretended like his cock wasn’t raw from how he abused it every night while scrolling through candid pictures of you he'd snapped without your permission. He went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, when all he wanted was for someone to make you cry so that he could be the one to wipe your tears.

Like a seasoned performer, as the months slipped by Felix became adept at masking the flames of longing and desire that raged beneath the surface. He became good at it..Until late one afternoon, in the quiet expanse of the library’s upper floor, when Felix came across you as he was heading home for the day. Your nose was buried in a heavy book, brow furrowed in concentration. And as Felix stood there, captivated by the sight of the setting sun's golden rays delicately brushing across your features, he etched the moment into the corridors of his memory, preserving it for...later reflection. You lifted your head, meeting his eyes like you had the very first night you'd met, and suddenly Felix wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep up the act. There was a brief pause from both of you—a silent acknowledgment of Hyunjin’s absence—before you graced Felix with a small wave.

Praying that his eagerness remained hidden, Felix made his way toward you. "Need some help?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a gentle undertone that eased some of the tension in your shoulders. You had always been comfortable with Felix, and he had always known it.

You sighed with exasperation, and it took everything for Felix not to let his gaze linger on your lips—soft and inviting, and a little swollen, as if you had been biting them in contemplation. “I’ve been at this for hours and normally Hyunjin helps me with this stuff, but he's been swamped with rehearsals lately,” you said.

Felix, suppressing the swirl of emotions triggered by the novelty of being alone with you, mustered a warm smile with sincerity that he made sure was reflected his eyes. "Is there anything I can help with?"

—

After the study session, Felix insisted that he walk you home—it was late, dark, and he genuinely cared about your safety amidst the unpredictable nighttime campus atmosphere. After all, what kind of friend would he be to Hyunjin if he let something happen to you? The conversation between you flowed effortlessly as it always did, and when you reached your doorstep you turned to him with a grateful smile, your eyes reflecting the trust that had blossomed between you over time. "Thank you, Lixie,” you said. The affection in your tone resonated like a soothing melody, and Felix couldn't help but revel in the nickname he had grown so fond of. "I really appreciate your help tonight," you added.

Felix returned your smile. "Anytime," he replied, "I'm just a text away if you need anything. Have a good night."

In the days that followed your meeting in the library, a seemingly natural rhythm developed between you and Felix. After discreetly familiarizing himself with your schedule and study habits, Felix began to strategically position himself in the library. He made sure to be there during those moments when you studied while patiently waiting for Hyunjin to conclude his dance practice.

Felix spent those precious hours focused entirely on you. He marveled at the way your eyes lit up with understanding, the soft sighs of relief when a difficult concept finally clicked. And he couldn't help but wonder whether your conversations held the same weight for you as they did for him. He wondered if you shared the details of your time spent together with Hyunjin. Or if perhaps, like Felix, you wanted to keep those shared moments a secret. 

A substantial pang of guilt gripped Felix's chest whenever he thought about it..But Hyunjin never mentioned anything—the routine of their friendship continued without interruption—and with time, the guilt dwindled. Fading into insignificance until it was hardly there at all.

Before he knew it, every innocent interaction between the two of you had become a significant event in his mind. Every stolen moment with you fueled his desire, long after Felix stopped trying to convince himself that what he felt was wrong. A friendly hug became an embrace laden with unspoken emotions. A playful nudge became a secret message, a whispered promise of something more. He couldn't see the truth anymore—couldn't separate reality from the distorted perceptions in his mind. He would lose himself to fantasies where he'd confess his love and you would respond by affirming that you felt the same. And Hyunjin would support the two of you—understanding and encouraging the connection between you and Felix—because Hyunjin was a good friend too.

Unfortunately, you were so madly in love with Hyunjin that you hadn’t noticed how the behavior of his roommate was a little..off. 

That particular evening, Hyunjin hadn’t planned on running late when he told you meet him at their apartment for your anniversary. When you texted him to let him know that you were there, he’d responded with a simple message:

Practice went late again I'm sorry, baby. Lix is there, he'll let you in. Call you when I'm outside, I'm taking you to dinner. Love u.

Your eyes, fixed on your phone screen, met Felix’s only briefly when he opened the door. As you stepped past him your thoughts remained focused solely on Hyunjin and how excited you were to see him. To be in his arms, to kiss him and exchange the details of your day. “Thanks, Lixie," you said, voice trailing as you made your way toward Hyunjin's room.

But you paused in front of Felix's room on the way, curiosity piqued by the soft lavender glow escaping from the cracked door. Drawn in by your favorite color, you ventured further inside, tossing your phone and purse onto the bed as you had done numerous times before. You found Felix's new computer setup, adorned with the vibrant purple lights that cast a mesmerizing aura throughout the room. The hum of the powerful machine filled the air, accompanied by a song from your favorite band. Your ears caught the familiar melody, though you didn't fully process the significance of it. You hummed casually, not realizing that Felix had intentionally picked the track just for you. The entire setup spoke volumes about Felix's passion for technology and his very, very meticulous attention to detail. 

Your fingers traced the sleek edges of the keyboard, and Felix couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up when you bent over to get a closer look. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as his eyes devoured the curve of your ass. “Check out the cable management at the back. Its nerdy, but I've spent quite some time making sure its all organized,” he said, knowing damn well that you would need to bend over further to see it. Which is exactly what you did, allowing Felix catch a full glimpse of the red lacy panties you had on underneath your skirt.

Fuck.

His favorite color. Had you worn them for him? Did Hyunjin even know you were coming over tonight?

Every question he’d ever had about your intentions swirled in his mind until Felix knew that he couldn't let uncertainty linger any longer.

When you stood and turned around, his lips were on yours.

Cherry flavored lip gloss, just like the one he had swiped from your purse last week in the library. For a split second, your lips pressed ever so slightly harder against his before you pulled back, covering your mouth with a hand. Your eyes went wide with shock. "Lixie...We’re friends..” you whispered. “We’re friends”, you repeated, a little firmer this time. 

Abruptly, your eyes darted to your illuminated phone screen on the bed. Following your gaze, Felix observed the caller ID, and he had never felt more like a fool. The stark reality hit him with unforgiving force as he witnessed the love mirrored in your eyes when you stared down at the glowing image of Hyunjin. He saw the depth of your very real feelings for his best friend, and how he had misinterpreted everything.

But Felix was so far gone that when you reached for your phone, his hands moved of their own accord, pushing it off the bed and sending it clattering to the floor. “Felix..” you whispered. But another impulse had him kicking your phone underneath the door—the door you hadn't realized he had closed behind you when you’d entered the room.

“Don't answer that,” he muttered, his own eyes wide with desperation. “Just...Just listen, please just let me explain," he begged, shifting in front of the closed door and reaching behind to lock it.

The shock in your expression mirrored the terror of a creature caught in the midst of an uncontrollable forest fire. And Felix felt creeping panic begin to take hold within him because this isn't how it was supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be looking at him like that. Desperation clawed at his throat, his heart pounded in his chest, "I can explain," he pleaded. The taste of your lips lingered on his, a bittersweet reminder of his impulsive action. He observed the subtle tremor in your hands, a sign of your unease. He felt the hurt in your eyes—a hurt he had caused. And he knew that he had to fix this.

He just needed more time.

“Felix, what are you doing?" you whispered as he took a step toward you. Your eyes darted toward the door, his fingers brushed the fabric of your sleeve, and the raging inferno within Felix exploded. The crackling heat seared through his veins and—

The distant click of the front door closing echoed from the hallway.

And the realization hit Felix like a sudden downpour—What kind of friend would he be if he let Hyunjin find out what he’d done?

[courtingchaos]

Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

or

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

or

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

[sweetenerobert]

begin again

1.3k | joel miller x plus size gender neutral reader

summary: you haven’t gone out on a date ever since you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend — a year ago, a new opportunity rises when you meet joel miller.

warnings: toxic relationship (guiltrip, body shaming, gaslighting), self-conscious reader, awkward!joel, mention of an age gap (it's your choice, but reader is of age) teeth rotting fluff, first date in a cafe

a/n: doing this for @beskarandblasters for their Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge ;), i’m happy to participate!, if you would like to participate, read this post

a/n 2: as a plus size author myself, i wanted to try something different (keep out for more plus size reader in the mere future, but i still write male reader with no descriptions to let your imaginations go wild <333.

I loved how CUUUUUTE this idea is, i might write a longer version of this ;p also reminder, i went overboard with the word count :0

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“You’re seriously gonna wear that?” Trevor said.

Glancing down at your stomach and then back at your boyfriend, you were confused about what Trevor meant. “What do you mean?” Shrugging your shoulders.

“That,” Trevor pointed at you, and you were still baffled at what he was pointing at. “Your hoodie.”

Your eyes trailing back down to your comfort hoodie. You’ve had it ever since the start of your senior year of high school into now being a twenty-one-year-old college student. It had some tiny holes, but you didn't care; you loved the material, the color, and how it made you feel comfortable.

“Well, yeah.” You shrugged.

Trevor sat up from lying on his bed and walked towards you, a look of disgust on his face. But you couldn’t tell what that look on his face was. He was always good at hiding it.

“Babe, you know I love that hoodie,” Trevor started blatantly lying to your face. “But I want you to make a good impression on my friends, so do you think you could wear something different?”

That indescribable feeling in your stomach rose to your throat, feeling as if someone were choking you. The stale taste of bile stayed in your throat as your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. You disregarded it to be nerves about meeting Trevor’s friends.

In the back of your brain, you knew that meeting them would’ve been a piece of cake if the front of your brain made you constantly nervous. Trevor knew they liked you, but he made you think they didn't. To make you feel small.

“But I have nothing else to wear that makes me comfortable.”

Trevor holds both his pointer fingers to signal you to wait with a smirk on his face, walking towards his closet quickly. Pulling out a trendy denim jacket he owned, you liked it, but it wasn't your style — or size.

“This,” Trevor smiled.

“But, it doesn't fit. I can barely get one button to close, and it's going to be cold tonight,” You complained.

Trevor groaned where chills ran down your spine; it made you not want to say another word. “C’mon baby, we don't want to be late, just put on the fucking jacket so we can hurry up.”

The attitude sent your way wasn't new, but you always felt like it was your fault, and this felt like your fault. He was trying to make you feel good; who’s to say he’s wrong?

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay; I didn't mean to get loud.”

That same meaningless apology you’ve heard before that always managed to calm you down. You zip down your hoodie, throwing it on Trevor’s bed, landing on the end of the bed frame, the hood between the mattress and the wooden frame. Taking the jacket and slipping your arms into it made you feel uncomfortable with how tight the denim felt against your back. You felt your shirt picked up — exposing your skin and making goosebumps occupy that area.

Looking at the mirror, you hated what you saw, but the smile on Trevor’s made you feel slightly better.

“I hate this,” You frowned.

“You look great,” Trever emphasized, draping his arm around your neck enthusiastically, which made you feel better. Right?

“Well, you finally look like you actually like my friends.”

“But, I’ve always liked your—”

“Okay, let's get going, baby.” Trevor kissed your cheek and left you alone in his room. The mirror catches your vulnerability in ways you couldn't see, and it makes you feel uneasy; it was bothering you that you couldn't figure out that word.

Disgust.

Disgust was the word that Trevor made you feel.

Judging you, making you feel like you're losing your mind, making you feel like you weren't enough. Disgust.

You were quickly slapping your face to erase any trace of Trevor. You stood outside the coffee shop where you agreed to meet up with the guy you matched up with on Bumble, Joel Miller.

It had been six months before you had gone back on dating apps, grieving the loss of your relationship in the past. Joel was one of the first few people you matched with. He was older, but he could hold down a conversation, making you feel like you could talk to him for hours. He was okay with meeting up with you, but he wanted to ensure you were comfortable with the timing; he was okay with waiting.

It had been five months until you agreed to see him; nervous to the brim, you didn't know what to wear; spending countless minutes in your underwear, you quickly put together an outfit and grabbed a hoodie.

When you first walked in and Joel noticed you, his smile beamed at you, making butterflies appear in your stomach. He had wired headphones in his ear as he stood up quickly, shoving them in his jacket. Wrapping his arms around you in a hug, he made you feel protected in his arms; he smelt of old spice and mint, and in your mind, it was adorable that you chuckled in your head.

As Joel backed up from the hug, he smiled at you again. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You smiled back. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Uh, no. Not really, just listenin’ to the playlist you made me.”

“Oh god,” you buried your head in your hand. “You still listen to that?”

“Of course, it's the thing that helps me get out of bed.”

You chuckle and can't help but smile from ear to ear as Joel smiles at you lovingly. “Well, if you ever get bored with that one, I would gladly make you another one.”

Joel chuckles through his smile; he quickly rubs the back of his neck, looking back towards his seat. “Uh, do you wanna sit down?”

“I would love that.”

Joel directs you to your seat; you cannot help but feel heat rise to your face; as you sit in your chair, Joel sits in front of you. As you wiped your hands on your hoodie, you looked up at Joel; you noticed him resting his head on his fist, looking at you. That feeling of Joel critiquing little things about you rose back to when Trevor would do it.

“Trevor isn’t here; you're fine,” You thought.

“Is there something on my face?” Your quick to cover your mouth with your hand.

Joel shakes his head and smiles at you. “Just admirin’ you, you're s’ perfect.”

The heat in your face was reaching a dangerous level, where you could feel your face explode. “Stop, you're pulling my tail.”

“I’m serious, your amazin’.”

You can't help but look down at the table in despair as you rarely received compliments from Trevor; it's hard to believe what Joel was saying to be the truth. “M’sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” You shake your head. Taking a deep breath, you place your hands on the table. “It's just I’ve never received compliments, and it's only when my ex would make me forget how much of an ass he is.”

That padding of Joel’s palm rested against your knuckles; you look at your hands together, and you look at Joel’s welcoming smile. “I promise, whenever I compliment you, it's comin’ from the depths of my soul, sweetheart.”

The warmth of Joel’s hand made you feel comfortable, a feeling you craved with— nobody. You felt good in this moment. “Now, how about I get you a cup of coffee? I promise it's the best.”

You chuckle. “Come on, I had to meet you here; let me buy it.”

As Joel gets up, he slides his hands down in an ‘X’ motion. “Nope, as the gentleman my momma raised me, it’ll be my pleasure.”

“Okay, but the next time we go out on a date, I’m buying.”

“I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” Joel walks away, and you can't help but smile at him as he walks away.

[hxxsxxng]

JAY 박종성 - CRIMSON HONEY : I

MINORS DNI

Word Count : 4.1k

Genre : SMUT, AU

Content : dub con, kidnapping, somewhat implied stalking, mentions of blood, almost loss of consciousness, manipulation, vampire, choking, nipple play, teasing, fingering, oral f recieving, spanking, hair pulling, masturbation, unprotected sex, cream pie, begging, probably other things lmk what i missed

Synopsis : After a long night of partying, you end up not making it home. Forcefully taken from the alley way, your night changed for the worse…. or for the better

Authors Note : I would really appreciate some feed back on this, this is my first time writing any sort of alternate universe story. love yall <3

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want

She's walking through a darkened alleyway, when she suddenly hears footsteps approaching her from behind. She stops and turns around, only to discover that they aren't footsteps, but the sounds of heavy breathing. She looks around, terrified, and realizes that someone has fallen into step behind her.

She picks up her pace, but the footsteps behind her pick up speed as well. She starts to panic, not knowing what to do. She looks around again, desperately trying to spot an exit or a friendly face. She is close to reaching a streetlight when a hand grabs around her wrist and pulls her roughly into a shadow-filled corner.

She struggles weakly against the grip of the hand holding her wrist, but is unable to break free. As she gasps for breath, her eyes adjust to the dim light and she realizes that it is a man who is holding her. She looks at his face and realizes she has never seen him before. His eyes glow red, black hair falling over his eyes, and his fangs glinting menacingly in the starlight, an unmistakable mark of a vampire.

The vampire stares at her, cold and emotionless, his grip tightening around her wrist. Despite her struggles, she is unable to break free. She stares back at him unblinkingly, knowing the futility of trying to get away from him. He leans closer to her, his breath hot on her neck, his fingers tightening around her wrist until they almost draw blood. She shivers, her fear now palpable.

He pulls her roughly towards him, his eyes burning into hers. Despite the threat of pain, she is overwhelmed by the power of his presence. It seems inevitable that he would kidnap her or take her back to his home.

The vampire leads her back to his home, taking her down dark alleyways and narrow streets, avoiding the crowds and the light. She is terrified, but also strangely captivated by him. His grip on her wrist never loosens, his fingers digging into her skin.

He finally stops in front of an imposing looking mansion, looming over the street with its dark shutters and peeling paint. He opens the door and pulls her inside, shutting the door behind them.

Inside, the mansion is as eerie as its exterior. The walls are covered in dusty veils, the air stagnant and stale. The furniture is covered in a thick layer of dust, the floors in need of a good cleaning. Although the mansion looks like it has been deserted for centuries, the vampire appears as if he lives here.

The vampire leads her through the dusty hallways, passing by rooms filled with cobwebs and furniture covered in dust. They come to a stop in front of a heavy-looking door, its surface bearing faint scratch marks. He opens the door and pushes her inside.

Inside the room, an odd smell fills the air, a mixture of musk and decay. The furniture is made out of dark wood, the floor bare. There are no curtains on the windows, so the moonlight spills into the room, creating ominous shadows on the walls. The vampire closes the door behind them and leans against it, watching her.

The vampire stares at her, his eyes burning into her. She is afraid but also filled with excitement. She can feel her breathing quicken, her heart beating faster. He walks closer to her and leans down until his face is just inches from hers.

She flinches from the pain, but despite the pain she feels a strange sensation coursing through her. The vampire continues to stare at her, his eyes straight into hers, his grip on her wrist tightening even more.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" the vampire asks. She glances down at his hand around her wrist, feeling the tightening squeeze. She stays silent, not wanting to answer. She doesn't know what he will do, but she is afraid that it will be something terrible.

The vampire gazes at her,"Oh, I think you know," he says.

The vampire's words send chills down her spine. She tries to swallow her fear, but the thought of what might happen is too terrifying to ignore. She keeps her silence, but her body betrays her with her increasing breathing and trembling. She feels the vampire glaring into her eyes as if he can see past her skin and into her mind.

The vampire tilts his head slightly, his eyes still holding hers. He's studying her, assessing her reactions. "Your fear amuses me," he says in a low, growl-like whisper. She continues to stay silent. Her breath is faster now, her heart beating against her chest. She feels his gaze boring into her, as if he is trying to find something inside of her.

The vampire walks around her, inspecting her, his eyes taking in her body. Her heartbeat quickens even faster, her breath catching in her throat. She is unable to move, unable to speak. She feels like a mouse in the presence of an apex predator, totally helpless.

The vampire's gaze moves over her body, up and down, scanning every inch of her. She feels defenseless and vulnerable. Her breath quickens further, her heart pounding in her chest. She closes her eyes, trying to remain perfectly still and not draw attention to herself. Her fear is growing, and she feels like she could burst into tears at any moment

The vampire comes to a stop, standing directly in front of her. He leans down, his eyes burning into hers once more.

"You're afraid."

His voice is low and gruff, like gravel being scraped together. She doesn't respond, just blinks as a response.

"I can see it in your eyes," he whispers. "Your fear."

His voice has a low, husky growl to it, like a lion about to pounce on its prey. He lingers in front of her, his eyes drilling into hers.

The vampire continues to stare at her. He seems unnaturally calm for someone who has just abducted a woman. He leans even closer, his breath hot on her neck. "Your heartbeat is quickening," he says, his voice low and hoarse. "You're starting to get excited, aren't you?"

"I can feel the heat of your body," he says, his voice a low whisper now. She can feel his breath on her skin. "You're trying to hide it, but I can feel it."

He can feel the tension in the room grow thicker. "My name is Jay, what is your name doll?"

She refuses to respond.

The vampire moves even closer, until his face is just inches from hers. He speaks again, his voice hoarse and low. "I know what you're feeling," he says. "Excited, afraid, aroused... you're trying to hide it, but I can see it all."

His gaze drops down to her lips. She tries to look away, but he catches her chin between his thumb and index finger.

Her pulse speeds up further and she begins to shake. "Please," she whispers. "Please don't. Let go of me..."

Her plea causes his eyes to darken with desire. His eyes burn with an intensity that scares her beyond reason. Suddenly, her entire body stiffens as a violent shudder runs through, shaking her. She tries to scream, but her mouth won't open. The sound of her voice seems muffled and distant, as if she is underwater.

She tries to fight, but she can't get herself to. She feels herself becoming weaker and smaller as Jay continues to tower over her, his eyes blazing with lust and hunger as he leans closer to her. Suddenly, he raises his other hand up, his claw tips grazing against her throat, causing her to gasp involuntarily. She sees his fingers curl around her neck, squeezing, slowly cutting off her air supply. She can taste iron fill her mouth. She gasps desperately for air. She struggles to breathe and her vision begins to swim with darkness. She tries to pull her face away, but his grip only tightens.

Suddenly, the vampire releases her, letting her fall to her knees, wheezing for air. The vampire steps back, arousal building in his pants at the site of the creature in front of him.

Her hands tremble as she attempts to stand, but she collapses onto the ground before she has had time to regain her balance. Still panting, she glares angrily at him, her breathing harsh and ragged.

"What do you want?" she snaps, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

The vampire smiles at her. His teeth gleam in the dim light, sharp and pointy.

"I want you..." he murmurs, his voice deep and dark. He approaches her, stopping right beside her as she continues to glare at him.

She feels his fingertips graze lightly across her shoulder and her breath catches in her throat. She wants to pull away from him, but the fear in her eyes makes her freeze and unable to escape. His fingers slide along her bare arm, caressing her skin, his breath fanning across her cheek.

"I want you," he breathes, his voice full of promise and longing. "All night long, I've wanted you..."

As soon as those words leave his lips, a wave of dizziness hits her, the world spinning around her. Her breathing starts getting heavier and her whole body aches. A dull throbbing starts in her neck, making its way towards her chest. It spreads throughout her body, leaving her dazed and weak. Maybe he was a bystander to her long night at the club, admiring from afar? She has never met this man.

The darkness creeps up on her, closing in on her from all sides, threatening to engulf her completely. Jay stands there staring at her, his eyes bright with pleasure as he watches her struggle for life. He looks so handsome, his black hair curling slightly at the edges, his features soft and delicate. She feels the warmth of his touch on her skin, his warm breath on her ear. The room is so very quiet, the only sounds she can hear are her own laboured breathing and the blood pumping in her ears.

Then everything goes black. He punctures her neck, blood gushing from her carotid artery. The sweet taste of her crimson red blood fills his mouth. Sweetest human he's ever tasted, like honey. He doesn't know if he can stop.

Her body falls limp at a almost loss of conciousness, his fangs still buried deep in her neck.  He pulls them out slowly, sucking her blood into his mouth, savouring the taste. He licks his lips, then looks up at her. There is no emotion on her face, not even surprise or confusion as he stares at her. There is nothing in her eyes. They are blank, void of all emotion.

A smile breaks out across his face. "Do you like it?" he asks her in a soft, silky tone

She remains still, not responding to his question, still feeling woozy from the sudden loss of blood. The vampire stares deeply into her eyes. Her pupils are dilated, and her heartbeats become erratic.

"Yes, do you like it?" he says again as the corner of his mouth lifts into a mocking grin. "Is it enough for you?"

"Y...yes..." she replies weakly, barely audible.

He grins in satisfaction at her reply. "That's good." His lips curve into a smirk as he watches the human struggle to stay awake and conscious.

"Are you going to kill me?" She finally asks in a hoarse whisper. Her voice wavers as she speaks, and her vision becomes darker.

"I'm going to fuck you" he snapped

He reaches down, pulling her to her feet and wrapping one arm firmly around her waist. Her head hangs limply, barely able to keep it upright, as he drags her toward his office.

She tries to resist, to break free, but her body is too weak, her mind too muddled, too clouded, to do so. The vampire's grip on her tightens, making her moan in pain. He stops when they reach his office. He pushes her down onto the couch, sitting down beside her.

"How did you find me?" she asks quietly, turning towards him and looking at him intently with her bleary, unfocused eyes.

"It doesn't matter how," he says, smirking. "What matters is that I am here now and we have unfinished business."

She frowns, her brow furrowing. "We?"

He nods his head in response, reaching out to run his hand softly along the side of her face.

"Me," he murmurs lowly. "You belong to me."

He leans forward, his mouth crashing against hers hungrily. He kisses her roughly, possessively, licking his way inside her mouth. His tongue dances deliciously with hers, dancing a seductive dance while it explores her. Jay takes his time, tasting every inch of her mouth. He tastes her blood mingling with his tongue, their kiss is fierce and passionate. He kisses her roughly, eagerly, his tongue exploring her mouth with such thorough and demanding intimacy.

Her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders. He slides his hands under her T shirt, running his fingers gently across her stomach, causing goosebumps to appear on her exposed flesh. Her mouth parts as his fingers brush lightly against her nipple. Slowly, he pulls her T shirt up over her head, revealing what he has been so desperately waiting to see.

Her breasts are small and pert. He can see the tip of her breast poking through her thin bra. With another deep thrust of his tongue into her mouth, he pulls away from her and cups her breast in his hands, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips buck upwards instinctively, eager for more attention from him.

"You smell so good," he mutters against her skin, placing several lingering kisses across her cheek and down her jawline until he reaches her ear, placing gentle nibbles along her neck.

He moves his mouth towards her ear, inhaling deeply at her intoxicating scent, the aroma of her blood filling his nostrils and making him lose control. "You taste delicious," he growls.

"Please." Her voice is a whimper, filled with desire and anticipation. Her body trembles as she moans, begging him to take her now, to fulfill her desires. Her voice is soft and pleading, almost desperate.

"Please," she says again.

He shakes his head, laughing silently in amusement. "No, darling. This is just the beginning."

He leans forward and places open mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone, leaving trails of hot, burning kisses as his lips move down her torso and over her belly button. He lowers his head, burying his face against the sensitive skin between her breasts. A moan escapes her lips and she wraps her hands in his curls and squeezes.

His teeth sink deeper, grazing the surface of her skin, drawing an involuntary moan from her throat. His tongue swirls around the area, licking it gently, sending sparks racing up and down her spine.

He lets go of her nipple and wraps both his hands around her lower abdomen. He pulls her towards him, bringing them closer together, rubbing himself against her.

His mouth finds her nipple once more, suckling her tenderly as he circles his tongue against it. Another sound leaves her lips as she arches her back. He pulls at her hips with one hand, using the other to unbutton her jeans. His mouth moves lower, teasing, kissing, caressing every part of her exposed skin before settling on her pussy, swirling his tongue around the swollen clit, making her shudder in delight.

His hand slides down between their bodies, pressing his palm over her entrance, stroking and circling it. She gasps in surprise, arching against his hand in pleasure as his fingers rub at the nub of nerves inside her pussy.

Her hands move down to cover his, covering his hand which rests between their bodies, stroking him with her fingers. Their hips grind against each other, their bodies moving in rhythm with each other, their moans muffled by their heated kisses and ragged breathing.

He groans loudly, lifting his head from her chest, his green eyes blazing with hunger as he looks her straight in the eye.

"Touch yourself for me." He orders her, holding her gaze. "Imagine it's me who is fucking you."

She nods her head obediently, lowering her hands to stroke herself, squeezing her fingers inside of her vagina.

"Just for me." He orders. "Just imagine me inside your pussy. Make me come inside you. Let it all spill out. Show me that you want this. Do it"

Tears stream down her face as the thought of him filling her with his seed causes her legs to shake uncontrollably, her whole body trembling. She begins to cry in desperation, her nails digging into his skin as she grips onto him, riding her hand hard and fast, moaning violently.

Jay stands up from the couch, taking the shaking woman in his arms, carrying her into his large master bedroom, setting her on the bed. He kneels between her legs, his mouth finding her pussy once again. His tongue swipes across her clit, her muscles tensing as he sucks on her sensitive nub. He feels himself swelling, his cock twitching impatiently.

As he raises his head, his eyes are wild with lust, as he gazes at her writhing naked body beneath him. She shudders in ecstasy, as his tongue continues its assault upon her cunt. She opens her eyes, staring at him in disbelief. She doesn't understand what she's seeing. The man she knows to be evil, the handsome vampire that had tortured her, was now pleasuring her. It felt surreal.

"Look at me," he commands, grabbing hold of her chin with his hand, tilting her head slightly upward. She closes her eyes as her tears continue to flow, unable to look away from him, unable to stop crying.

He smiles widely and chuckles softly. "Do you like what you see?"

She bites her lip. "Stop it."

He ignores her request and runs a gentle finger down the length of her pubic hair. "Do you want me to lick my way up your pussy? Does it feel nice?"

She whimpers, her back arching involuntarily. She turns her head towards the ceiling, trying her best to avoid looking at him.

"Do you?" He repeats with a playful tone.

She whines.

He laughs again, brushing his knuckles up and down her inner thigh. "Does it feel good?" He repeats in a husky whisper.

She whimpers loudly, clenching her eyes shut.

"Good girl." He praises, running his hand slowly up her thigh once more.

"Please..." She begs.

He stops suddenly, withdrawing his hand from her thighs and standing up. He grabs her wrist and twists it around behind her back, holding it there painfully. She cries out in pain, biting her lip to stifle the sobbing that threatens to escape her throat.

He releases his grip on her wrists slowly, pulling her arms apart so that her hands rest limply against her sides, her elbows bent at awkward angles.

"Turn around," he commands, his voice hoarse and rough.

She obeys him reluctantly, turning around so that she is facing the wall. She sighs in relief when he finally releases her, allowing her to drop her arms to her side.

She wants him. More than anything else she could ever need. All she wanted was him to be inside of her. And he would be. She couldn't imagine having sex without him.

But she wasn't going to tell him that.

She hears the sound of clothes being removed quickly followed by the rustling of sheets.

She bites her bottom lip nervously, watching intently as she hears him walking around the bed.

Suddenly, there is a sharp slap and her body jerks in shock. Her ass stinging is pain. He props up behind her, lining his cock up with her wet enterance. She tenses at first, anticipating the intrusion of his body. But as he pushes himself inside of her, she gasps in surprise at the feeling of his long, thick shaft sliding in and out of her wetness. She can feel him stretching her insides, his balls pushing into her backside forcefully. His hands reach around, resting themselves firmly on her upper arms, keeping her in place as he slowly begins to fuck her. He pumps his hips faster and faster, causing her to gasp at the intensity of his movement.

She moans softly, closing her eyes in pleasure as she feels his hard penis pushing against her ass, penetrating her further. She opens her eyes again, looking back at his face as he fucks her, thrusting himself deep inside of her again and again.

"Oh God..." She murmurs. "It feels good" she cries in agony.

The sound of their flesh slapping against each other soon begins to fills the room and echoes loudly through the house. She cries out in ecstasy as he slams his hard erection against her ass harder and harder, driving himself deeper into her tight core while continuing to rock his hips furiously.

She moans louder. "Jay~~~"

"That's my girl. Scream my name, baby. I'm going to make you feel so good."  He growls. He reaches forward, grabbing her hips and lifting her up so that her ass is facing him. He holds her there for a second before slamming himself even further inside of her. She cries out loud as her walls tighten around him. He keeps thrusting into her, hitting her g spot over and over, driving her crazy.

Jay snakes his hand up her spine and grabs a fist full of her hair, ripping her head back closer to him.

"I want to hear your cute fucking moans, princess" he whispers in her ear. He lets go of her head and throws it back into the mattress forcefully.

She bucks upwards, tightening around him again, moaning loudly. She wants this. She needs this. Needs his touch and his heat wrapped around her body and his hardness buried deep inside of her.

He groans as he feels her pussy clenching around him.

She cries out as he begins pumping himself even harder against her, his cock throbbing heavily inside of her. They moan each others names as they begin to ride each other fast and furious, cumming together. Her entire body shakes wildly as she comes undone. She moans out loud, letting go of everything as her orgasm takes over her body once again, exploding inside her pussy. She trembles around him as her climax hits her hard and heavy, her walls tightening around his dick.

After a few minutes her shaking ceases. Jay lets her go and lays beside her, caressing her hair, placing small kisses on her forehead.

"You're beautiful like this. So soft and pliable."

He snuggles close to her side, hugging her tightly against him, kissing her bare chest whilst leaving bite marks here and there lightly. She presses her nose against his chest, inhaling deeply and wrapping her arm loosely around his torso as she buries her face into his warm neck.

They lay like that for quite some time, contentedly snuggling up close to one another, enjoying the closeness of their bodies, the warmth of their bodies intertwined together.

A few seconds later a sudden thought crosses her mind and causes her to stiffen in his grasp.

"How do you know what happens next?" She asks, her voice wavering as she feels tears well up in her eyes, her body shaking in fear. "What will happen when...when we have sex? I...I want that too. I really, really do...but...I don't know if you...if you'll like me or not afterward. What if...what if you don't?"

His body tenses underneath hers for a moment before relaxing once more. He pulls her closer towards him, rubbing his cheek against hers. "Don't worry about that now, little love. Just relax. You need to sleep now anyway. I am going to keep you here for a while"

[senualothbrok]

Come What May

Summary: On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

An alternative act 2 romance scene, featuring a Tav who is a cleric of Ilmater. "Come What May" is a song from "Moulin Rouge".

AO3 link

Non-18+. Angst with a happy ending.

Trigger warnings: references to prostitution (Tav's mother), sexual trauma, grief/bereavement, graphic depictions of illness, Gale's suicidal ideation.

A/N: This fic is a response to the anon who requested an alternative act 2 romance scene between Gale and a Tav who wants to save intimacy for after marriage. I feel that I should apologise because I am clearly incapable of writing a straightforwardly sweet/romantic piece which does not involve trauma and angst of some sort. I have no idea why this happened, please forgive me.

Please note the trigger warnings and exercise self-care. It is, however, angst with a happy ending.

I highly recommend listening to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge during/after you read this.

I deliberated over whether to post this. It feels like my weakest work, and I feel slightly ashamed about it. I'm still not sure if it's good enough to post, but decided to bite the bullet because I wanted to give it to the anon who reached out. I really hope it does bring some comfort and enjoyment to someone out there.

I cannot thank my dear friends @inglorionamy-ammy and @dekariosclan enough for being truly wonderful beta readers and helping me with some major edits on this piece. Thank you and I am forever grateful for your kind hearts and keen minds.

“I’m in love with you.”

There is anguish in Gale’s eyes. His voice trembles with fear and urgency. You feel it all, a sunbeam shooting through the blue-green haze he has conjured around you. For you. 

You gaze at him, breathless. Nothing compares, not even the beauty and wonder of his creation. When Gale looks at you, you do not feel dread, that ancient squirming beneath your skin. He is not the lumbering colossus of your nightmares, leaving a trail of whimpering bruises on your mother’s flesh. When he is near, you feel a yearning to draw closer, not away. You had never thought that possible with a man.

In that moment, you are possessed by a wild terror. An agonising thought that he will slip through your fingers, as though he never was. His last night alive. 

Your heart surges, and you cannot stop it. You answer without thinking.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Panic seizes you. Your admission is a sacred boundary crossed. A bulwark broken. You have the urge to bolt before all is lost.

But then Gale’s face lifts. It radiates with a smile, and all at once, you are beaming with the knowledge that you are the cause. Fleetingly, you let yourself imagine the miracle of seeing that smile again and again for the rest of your days. It is not a leering grin from which you flee, nor a repulsed grimace from which you hide. Sometimes, in his presence, there is something about solitude that no longer feels like safety, but loss. It bewilders you.

He huffs out a laugh, and you are mesmerised by the curl of his eyelashes, delicate as butterfly wings. 

“That’s a relief. It’d be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

There is a flame in his eyes that sets you alight. You cannot look away. You do not want to. Something swollen simmers in the space between you, just as it had that night when the Weave had made you one. 

He dips towards you. You are drifting towards him, dizzy from his scent. It is like nothing you have breathed before. There is no trace of sourness, no stale grease. It is sandalwood and leather, scrolls and soap. You are entranced by the plump curve of Gale’s lips, the soft earth of his eyes. In your mind, you see the smooth curve of his shoulders, broad and welcoming. His feather light fingers turning a page, like a sculptor’s touch on setting clay. 

The glaring marks on your mother’s neck, withering into wounds. The blood of her scabs, pooling in her navel.

You flinch.

Confusion flits across his features. You shift away.

“I'm sorry,” you manage. “I can't.”

You are winded by his spasm of hurt, a storm of despair, rejection, doubt. Part of you wishes you did not have this gift, this curse of Ilmater - to read others’ pain, to feel others' suffering so deeply it becomes your own. And you know, as you reel from the chains you cannot shed, that you should say no more. But you cannot bear it. You cannot let him suffer from a lie.

“I love you,” you choke. “But I can't.”

His brows steeple. He is silent. The thought that he does not believe you is a torment. You cannot be another loss, another reason for him to believe his life means nothing. To convince himself there is no one who would mourn his death. 

The words spill out as though you are clutching, searching. 

“I made a vow.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “A vow.” His gaze darkens. “You're promised to another.”

“No.” You jerk your head, frantic. “No. It’s not that…” 

He stiffens, as though he is braced for a blow. That he would expect harm from you is devastating.

“I made a promise to Ilmater,” you confess. “I can't be… intimate with anyone. Not like that.”

His eyes widen. You notice that there are flecks of gold in the brown of his irises, flaring with surprise. You fumble for proof, excuses, anything to skirt around the edge of it. The scar inside you that no one but Brother Rogier has seen. Your burden, your wound. Yours and yours alone.

“It keeps me safe.” You sound frenetic. “So that I can heal. I can't be charmed, or harmed by phantasm. Ilmater protects me from–”

It is ridiculous. You feel it as you speak. To suggest that such feeble protections would keep you from the magnitude of his love, when he is certain he will soon be dust and ash. Insulting. You are ashamed.

Disbelief curdles in the tight line of his lips. 

“Please. There’s no need for that.” He looks away. “You have a compassionate heart. That much is clear. But there's no need to go to such lengths to spare what remains of my pride.”

You stare at him, bereft. “Gale–”

“I understand perfectly.” His voice is broken glass. “And I would never force my heart on someone who doesn't reciprocate my affections, no matter how pitiful I may appear.”

He turns his back to you. You can no longer see his face. This is the right thing, you tell yourself. The good thing. He will walk away, and you will remain intact. Safe. You will endure. 

But a frenzy has come over you. As you watch the sagging of his shoulders, the clenching of his hands, you realise that you do not want it. You do not want this sacrifice, this secret. 

You want him.

You have never wanted anything so much.

You lurch forward. He spins around at the desperate questing of your fingers, lacing into his. You fall to your knees, pressing his hand to your heart. Recognition sparks in his eyes as your tadpole brushes against his.

“Please,” you whisper. “Let me show you.”

****

She used to be beautiful, you thought, kneeling there beside her. You stared at the welts marring her olive skin, her scarlet hair flaking to rust. There was a sore on your mother's thigh, weeping with pus, and you looked away when Brother Rogier pressed on it, ashamed at your squeamishness. 

You had seen far worse, waiting in dark alleyways and side streets while she heaved, clamped against the wall by some hooded giant, or kneeling as a grunting shadow loomed over her. You had never felt disgust or shock, only vague impatience, as you watched her finish and rearrange her skirts. Coins jangled in her pockets as she took your hand, bounding towards the promise of candlelight in the distance.  Later on those nights, she would hold you close in a warm bed, lulling you to sleep with whispered songs. With a full stomach and a formless hope, you ignored the greasy stench of strangers’ sweat which she could never shed.

It angered you, how nauseous you felt, as you listened to the bubbling crackle of your mother's breathing. You were only ten, but you were no longer a child, and you knew her moments were numbered. To feel disgust as she lay there, leaking into a peeling pallet, a guttering flame - it was the greatest betrayal. A sin you could never forgive. When Brother Rogier covered your mother's modesty with his usual gentleness, you started to cry. 

You had been suspicious of him at first, stooped and shrouded in his tattered grey robe. You had never met a priest of Ilmater. All you could see was his bald head, so shiny it looked wet, and the backs of his calloused hands, hairy as a beast’s. When he first took hold of your mother after her collapse, you screamed.

But he did not scold or strike you. He spoke to you softly, as an equal, not a child. 

“I want nothing from your mother, or from you,” he said. “I have sworn a vow of chastity.”

He had crouched to look you in the eye. It was a dignity you had never been given before, as the ugly runt of a streetwalker. It made you feel like he truly saw you, in a way that no one but your mother did.

“It means I will never take a woman or a man. She is safe with me. And so are you.”

And you were. With him, you felt safe. He was the only other person who would touch her, when  the sickness ravaged her body and her mind.  He tended to her in the temple with poultices and prayers, giving you food, water and shelter. She was well beyond thanking him by then, all speech and thought swallowed up in decay. Yet when her fire was snuffed out, he was the one who stood with you, cleaning her for burial. He was the one who anointed her so carefully, so reverently, for a return to Ilmater’s embrace.

“Ilmater sees you,” Brother Rogier had said. “He bears your suffering.”

And as you wept into your mother's cold, hard hands, with Brother Rogier steadfast beside you, you thought of every stranger who sucked and thrust your mother's beauty out of her. You thought of their relentless claws in the darkness, and Brother Rogier’s tender fingers in the light. You thought of your life, broken and empty, but for Ilmater's unexpected kindness.

And you made a promise. You promised you would never give your body as your mother had. All that you were, all that you had, you vowed to give to the Crying, Broken God, the one who stood with you and endured.

****

There is a tiny scar near his temple, framed by a dew drop of a mole. You had never noticed them before. As you lie facing him, cocooned in the illusion of the lush grass beneath and the boundless night above, you drink in every pore of his bronze-kissed face, every shadow that lifts as his gaze roams over you. You feel it like a caress, drifting over the patches and blemishes marring your skin, and for the first time in your life, you do not feel the need to hide them. 

“Tav.” His voice is so low, you strain to hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

He draws closer. He has seen the gaping hole inside you, and he remains. You can feel his longing to comfort, his desire to heal. It is a familiar urge, your second nature. It would be a gift, if you could accept his reassurance. If you could rest in his embrace. If only.

He senses your hesitation. Abruptly, he pauses, his fingers hovering above yours.

“Is this… alright?” Worry twists his features. “Are you comfortable with–”

“It’s alright.” 

He gestures between you. “Because if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can–”

“It doesn’t.” 

He frowns, questioning, fretting. 

“I'm sorry.” You look down. “I'm sorry I can't…”

He jolts. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the point of your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I love you.” His brow quivers. “There are countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. The joining of bodies, the pleasures of the flesh…they're but one stitch in a vast tapestry. My love for you goes far deeper, burns far brighter.”

You gaze at him, motionless. When you speak again, your voice is torn.

“I want to. With you. One day, when I’m not...” 

You grimace as the images flash through your mind. The weeping scratches on your mother’s breast. The oily sheen on her calloused skin. You try to blink them away.

“When I can, I want to.”

He nods slowly, firmly. He shines, as though there are no more shadows between you. That there never could be.

“It’s different with you.” You try to explain. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to hide. When I’m close to you, I feel…safe.”

You know it is not enough, but it is all you have. You can only give him the truth, no more, no less.

“You’re not like the others,” you say finally. “I… want to be with you. To…touch you.”

You clasp his hand. There is the faintest glow of lavender that trails down the muscles of his neck, a glinting sliver of his chest through the opening of his robe. You look at him with concern. He grimaces slightly. You think you see a trace of embarrassment, but you are not sure. 

“I - ah –” 

His mouth opens, closes. He struggles for words.

“Is it hurting?” You wince. “We can try that poultice again, I have some in my–”

“I’m alright,” he huffs. “I’m quite alright, Tav.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not…quite.” He shakes his head. “Not now. It’s–”

He bites his lip. There is a strange silence, as though you have reached a frontier you cannot pass. And yet, the intensity of his gaze draws you, like a thread tethering your soul to his. Your fingers follow its path, hovering over the dark ring at his centre. He tilts his head, and almost imperceptibly, he nods.

His eyelids flutter at your touch. The lines of the orb feel like a scar, a stitch sinking into his skin. There is a coldness to the purple pulse under your fingers. You notice that Gale has stopped breathing. You draw back.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he answers immediately. His lips are parted. You catch the wet glimmer of his tongue. “Not at all.”

He clears his throat. You swallow. For a moment, you cannot look at each other. He runs his hand through his hair, while you fuss at your tunic. A hushed heat falls over you, and as if on cue, you both roll onto your backs, fixing your gazes on the celestial canvas. 

It is quiet for a long time. And then your hand returns to his, as if it belongs there. You trace the grooves on his palm, as he caresses the callouses of your knuckles.

“I would wait an eternity for you.” His voice is rough, fractured. “If only I could…but the orb, the fate Mystra demands of me–”

“You don’t deserve this,” you choke.

He scoffs, a burst of anger and disgust. “I was foolish. Selfish. It was unconscionable. I endangered everyone around me–”

You spin back to him. “You don’t deserve this, Gale. Not this. Not her abandonment and punishment. Not any of it.”

He stares at you. There is both a hardening and a softening in him as he wrestles with your words. You understand. You know how it feels to grapple with a burden, haunted by whether you can ever lay it down. Plagued by whether you should.

A tangle of hair falls into your eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches up to tuck it behind your ear. Your skin tingles from the ghost of his touch.

“I could never tire of looking at your face,” he breathes. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile. Watching you laugh. Being with you, basking in the miracle of your presence.” He closes his eyes, as if committing you to memory. “When the time comes, this is what I’ll picture. Only you.”

The sorrow of his smile floods you. The resolution, the resignation in it. All at once, you are drowning. He gasps, flinching forwards. 

“Please.” His thumb draws gentle circles on your cheek, brushing away your falling tears. “My love, please don't cry.”

He speaks with a tortured awe, as though no one has ever wept from his pain. 

“I would never want to bring you grief. Only joy. Beauty. Happiness and wonder.”

“Then don't do it.” You try to stifle your sobs. “We can work this out together. You don’t have to die.”

You cup his flickering hand against your skin. 

“Any goddess who would ask you to do this isn’t worthy of your love. You're worth more than any mistakes you’ve made. So much more than this cruel forgiveness. You’re… everything.”

Ilmater would never ask this. He would see Gale, his regrets, his triumphs, his goodness and kindness. His love. Ilmater would bear his suffering as his own. He would walk with Gale through the roses and the thorns. You wish you could make him see.

But he does not see it. “Please don't cry,” is all he says, as he wipes away your tears. 

***

“What's your happiest memory?” 

It feels like a deflection at first. A misguided focus on your sorrow instead of his own. You do not want to back down. You want to convince him that Mystra is wrong, that he deserves to live, that he should endure. But there is a plea in his question, a ragged insistence, and you cannot refuse him.

You close your eyes as you consider. 

“My mother loved to sing,” you start. “When she sang, it was like time stood still. Her voice was so beautiful… I can’t describe it, but I remember it. Everything about her was beautiful… until she got sick.”

You feel your mother’s crimson waves, wrapped like a veil around you. The cradle of her arms, so thin and willowy, yet strong as spider silk. 

“Just before she got sick, my mother took me to a tavern to see Red Millie. A singer - you won’t have heard of her, but she was a celebrity around our parts. The barkeep took one look at us and tried to throw us out, but we managed to hide away at the back.”

You remember your glee, sneaking with your mother through the gaps in the crowd, shrouded in shadows. There was a whimsy, a spirit within your mother that no amount of degradation and destitution could ever kill. Not until the very end.

Gale’s jaw clenches. “Blind prejudice. Needless cruelty, to deny such simple pleasures to a woman and her child. What I wouldn’t do to give that fool a piece of my mind.” 

A tide of tenderness washes over you. You squeeze his hand. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. But thank you.” 

Reluctantly, he eases. His anger moves you in a way you cannot describe. You are reminded of how Brother Rogier chased off the boys that spat and threw stones at you, as though there was nothing that mattered more than your dignity. 

“It was incredible, anyway,” you go on. “My first time at a real show. It was the only time I saw my mother’s face light up like that. Red Millie had red hair just like hers, and a voice that could bring warriors to their knees. And that night, she sang this song, a song I’ll never forget.”

It takes you unawares, how clearly you can still hear it. How it echoes inside you like a temple bell.

“Afterwards, my mother looked at me like she’d never done before. She was smiling, and there were tears in her eyes, and she held me so tightly I thought she would never let me go.”

Your chest heaves. She is a bottomless ache. You struggle to find your breath.

“What was the song?” Gale asks softly. 

The grasp of his hand stills you. No one but Brother Rogier has ever heard you sing. You have always thought your song fragile, brittle, like thawing ice. It has always been a secret part of yourself, set aside for your mother and Ilmater alone. But when Gale asks, it is a foregone conclusion. Something you give him freely and without reservation.

And so, with your tears mirrored in his eyes, you sing him your mother’s song.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather

And stars may collide

But I love you

Until the end of time

Come what may

I will love you

Until my dying day”

****

“Come.” He stands suddenly, lithe with determination. “I want to show you something.”

He reaches down to you, and when you take his hand, the world around you dissolves into a whirl of blinding light. You stumble, but with his fingers intertwined in yours, there is no space inside you for trepidation. There is only wonder.

He strides forward. You gasp as a vista of oak, marble, and vellum streams from his free hand. Not for the first time, you are enthralled by Gale in his element, working miracles from the Weave. You marvel at the sculptures and paintings that appear around you, the plush seats and ornate walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books.  Within this sanctuary of deep reds and gilded greens, open tomes and scribbled notes gleam in the glow of the fireplace. All you see and feel and smell is Gale.

“This is my home in Waterdeep. The centre of my universe.”

You stand speechless, taking it all in - the gift of Gale’s trust, the purity of his love as he bears his soul to you. With a flourish, Gale leads you towards an intricately carved piano that waits in the corner of the room. 

“This is beautiful, Gale.”

You are referring to all of it - Gale's art, his home and haven, Gale himself. But Gale beams down at the piano with a special focus.

“It was my mother's.” 

His thumb grazes its elaborate markings. There is such a delicacy in the gesture. An act of worship.

“She gave it to me, when I finally got my act together and moved into my own place. What a day of joy and mourning that was.” 

He chuckles, brimming with memories. You wish you could see them all.

“She was a marvellous pianist, back in the day, when her fingers were nimbler. Truly exceptional. She was no wizard, but to hear her play–”

His hands dance, fervent with admiration.

“She played with such passion, such unparalleled mastery, that her music had a magic of its own.”

He gestures to the bench in front of the piano. As you sit, your thigh brushes against his. His fingers trail idly over the keys.

“It was always a treat as a child, to perch here beside her and watch her play. No matter how much of a menace I'd been, how exhausted she was from the endless havoc I wreaked and all the questions about the universe I demanded she answer. No matter how incandescent she was with me for burning this or summoning that…” 

He gives a huff of affection. 

“She would still invite me to sit beside her and listen. Every time.”

Gale's smile illuminates every part of him. It is a smile like no other, a fixed star in an endless night. 

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

He bobs his head. “Indeed. Formidable, and fearsome, and wonderful. You would like her. And she would adore you.”

There is an instant before he holds your gaze - a flurry of his fingers, a low murmur. And then, the piano bursts into life with a familiar song that shatters your heart into a thousand pieces before restoring them one by one, sealed in gold.

You are shaking. “Gale,” you whisper through tears. “The song–”

He takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. You feel it all - the roughness, the smoothness, the swelling storm, the steady sea. There is so much more you want to tell each other, things that spill over the seams of speech, lapping at the edges of all your empty spaces. In this moment, you do not need it. You simply listen.

****

You are sitting on the balcony. Framed by golden shafts of sunlight, he looks like a vision from your dreams, real and unreal at the same time. You know everything around you is an illusion, a haze of yearning and remembrance. Yet it is truer than anything you have ever seen or felt, greater than all your nightmares, the spectres of the past. It is his world, melting into yours, making you one.

“My favourite spot.” 

He pats the velvet seat beneath you. Dust motes shimmer in the rising air.

“Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”

He looks out into the horizon, the shifting waves and seagulls soaring overhead. You are reminded that he has created all of this from memory. The undulations of the arches before you, the chiselled grooves of the stone floor beneath you. The bustling docks and well worn buildings of Waterdeep in the distance. The empty wine glasses on the table, reflecting the setting sun. You feel the love and longing in his creation. You see the mourning in his frown, the dark determination in the twisting of his mouth. A farewell. 

“You'll come back here,” you tell him. “When this is all over. You'll be back.”

He turns back to you. There is a faltering, a crack in his conviction. You hope, with every ardent prayer within you, that it is enough.

Your hand seeks his. “What's your happiest memory?”

A fleeting surprise passes over his features, but there is no hesitation. 

“This,” he says. “Now. Being here with you.”

You are taken aback by the force of his sincerity, the gratitude that glistens in his gaze. Of all his accolades, all his many accomplishments and adventures, of all the people he has loved and lain with, this is what he cherishes most. You, bruised and battered as you are. Only you.

“And for you, I’ll wait.” He clasps both of your hands in his. “I'll wait for as long as it takes. A thousand years could pass, and I'd still be here, waiting.” His lips curl. “If you'll still have me, that is.”

You cannot help but laugh at his unexpected pun, and the hint of pride in it. Your cheeks flush with the implication of his smirk. It takes you a beat to register what he has said. When you do, you halt.

“Is that a promise?”

He freezes. Desperately, you search his face.

“It's a promise.” You surge forward. “You're going to wait till the day I can give myself to you completely, mind, body and soul. You're going to live.”

He looks down at his hands, wrapped up in yours. You can feel the roiling inside him, the relentless battle between hope and sacrifice. And when his eyes meet yours again, you are overcome by a love that blazes through everything hidden and broken within you. 

There is the ghost of a nod, and his hair skims your neck as you reach for him. When your lips find his, he trembles, his hands questing, coming to rest at the small of your back. You cup his cheeks, and the caress of his tongue against yours is a prayer answered. A vow.

In the warmth of his embrace, you watch the weary sun take its dive into the sea. He holds you close, and as the piano whispers your mother’s song, you let the gentle rhythm of his breaths lull you into sleep.

******************************

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

GIRL! You should write a Sihtric ffc that takes place when they are trying to get Bebbanburg back and they take him and Finan and chain them. While they are chained, Sihtric notices a girl also being chained in a corner (the oc) and after the battle he rescues her…the rest up to you. If you do pls tag me 🤭😳

Here you goo girly! Copy and pasted <3

Bebbanburg

Authors note: It's my last fic this year. I hope you'll enjoy. I found it not so easy to write, but here it is. A big thank you to @the-irish-girl for helping me with the ideas and writing prompts. I appreciate it a lot!

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Warnings: a lot of Angst and a bit of Fluff. That's it .

Word Count: 4,8 K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf@willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Constantin's voice pierces the inner yard, “He's no man of mine,” he declares, putting a very fast end to their venture.

'Your Scottish accent sucks,' Sihtric grumbles, his teeth clenched, as his hands are forcibly bound behind his back. Like Finan before him, he's quickly disarmed. They are surrounded by too many warriors, the resistance is futile. Surrender appears to be their only reasonable choice for now. At least this might buy Uhtred more time and divert the guards' and Wihtgar's attention from him.

"At least I gave it a shot," Finan shrugs with his shoulders as they are hauled away. 

The air in the dungeon is musty and stale, the smell of mould and mildew mixing with filth and rot. It’s not under the ground, the cliff of Bebbanburg has made it far too difficult to dig deep. It stands as a separate building at the fortress's far end, with double wooden walls built on top of a stone base likely still left by the Romans. Its exposure to the sea winds and dampness is evident. There are no windows, its sparse lighting comes from flickering torches that cast long, ominous shadows across the walls and the metal bars of the cells.

“Torture them for answers,” Lord Wihtgar orders, his frame obstructing the entrance. The threatening tone in his voice suggests that he's more interested in retribution than actual information. He’s been fooled and humiliated before the Scottish king and wants revenge, eager to make them suffer. He approaches Finan, intent on delivering the first strike, as the astir voice of his commander distracts him. 

“My lord, soldiers approach from the south.”

“How many?”

“Many.”

“Lock them up and then head to the ramparts,” Wihtgar commands and storms out of the dungeon. The guards roughly shove Finan and Sihtric into separate cells. The heavy metal doors slam shut with a resounding clang, the sound of keys turning in the locks echoing in the room as the guards depart, leaving behind a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the torches.

"It could’ve been worse," Finan remarks with a half-hearted chuckle, making himself as comfortable as possible on a pile of straw in the corner of his cell. He glances over at Sihtric, in the cell across from him, worried about how he's handling things. Finan is well aware of his fearless friend's sole vulnerability. 

Sihtric clutches the metal bars of his cell, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. He takes deep, deliberate breaths in an effort to remain calm, but his anxiety is palpable. The walls seem to inch closer, the pervasive darkness reaching towards him like insidious fingers. Each breath he draws feels oppressively heavy, as if pressing down on him, dragging him towards the ground. Sihtric shuts his eyes tightly, trying to take another deep breath, fully aware that it’s his own mind playing tricks on him, yet unable to shake the feeling.

When he finally forces his eyes open again, the cell is pitch black; the torches have burned out. The space feels even more confined than before. He finds himself sitting on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around his knees, back pressed against the wall. The distant sound of water dripping is the only thing that pierces the silence. Time has become a blur—hours, days, weeks? He can't tell.

Touching his swollen lip, Sihtric winces at the pain but is relieved to find his teeth intact. He curls up tighter, shutting his eyes, longing for sleep to claim him, but it remains elusive.

The cold in the cell is piercing, cutting through his thin clothing and his stomach is growling with hunger. Sihtric shivers, his teeth chattering from the chill. His gaze falls to his legs, barely covered by a worn rug, down to his bare, skinny feet. They're blistered and dirty, stained with streaks of blood. His blood. 

He can still feel them—the blows from his father’s fists, the sharp sting of the dog whip in Kjartan's hands as he lashes out, his face flushed with anger, infuriated by Sihtric’s silence as he doesn’t cry out. He never does; he never gives Kjartan that satisfaction.

He can still hear them—his mother's desperate, pleading cries as she kneels before Kjartan, begging for mercy for her son, willing to do anything to end the brutal beating. 

A vicious blow sends Sihtric sprawling to the ground; he instinctively curls into a ball, protecting his head and face, bracing for the rest of the assault. He doesn't make a sound, and Kjartan, losing interest, tosses the whip aside and refills his mug with ale. Strong arms grip him like iron claws, hoisting him up and tossing him over a shoulder. Sihtric catches a glimpse of his mother weeping on the floor, managing a small smile for her before he's taken to the small, damp cell in Dunholm's basement. Again. It’s not the first time and not the last.

No, no, no—it's not real, it can't be, Sihtric reminds himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He's not the small, scared slave boy anymore. He's a warrior, a grown man who has endured more battles than the years of his life. He has risen above everything his father, Kjartan, sought to deny him. Kjartan is gone. This is Bebbanburg, and his friends are counting on him. He can't let the ghosts of his past haunt him, not from beyond the grave. He can’t let his father win this battle.

Yet, here he is, seemingly back in that same cold, dark cell in Dunholm, wiping away tears with the frayed fabric of his sleeves. This hidden place being the only spot where he lets them flow freely.

"Hey, hey, Sihtric, listen to me," Finan's urgent voice pierces through the haze, jolting Sihtric back to the present. His eyes fly open. He finds himself still upright, clutching the iron bars, his head leaning against them, breaths coming fast and heavy. A sheen of cold sweat coats his forehead, and his entire body quivers. If not for his tight grip on the bars, his legs would have surely given way by now.

"There's something in your cell. Sihtric, are you hearing me? Check out the corner behind you. Something's moving," Finan's voice, though somewhat muffled, carries a distinct note of urgency that spurs Sihtric to slowly turn his head. In the far end of his cell, he catches sight of a peculiar, quivering shape. It isn't merely moving; it's shaking, accompanied by faint, muffled noises.

Forcing himself to release the iron bars, Sihtric turns for a better view. The torchlight is too dim to make out details, so he cautiously takes a few steps closer. His muscles tense, ready to react to any threat.

He halts, concentrating on the sounds emanating from the shape. It quickly becomes apparent that what's under the tattered blanket is a living, scared creature, its quiet, stifled sobs reaching his ears. With careful movements, Sihtric edges closer, extends his hand, and slowly pulls back the ragged blanket, unveiling the source of the quiet sobbing.

—---------------------------------------------

You're abruptly roused from sleep by the sound of voices. Straining your ears, you recognize the voice as Wihtgar's. It's been a while since the Lord of Bebbanburg visited the dungeons, not since your arrival. You quickly rise and hurry to the iron bars of your cell, moving as swiftly as the clanking chains around your ankles permit. The metal chafes against the bruises left by the shackles, but you barely notice the pain. Desperation to speak to him, to plead for your freedom, urges you forward. You've done nothing wrong; you've been falsely accused, and you need him to know that.

The voices grow louder, and you catch sight of two men being dragged in. They're strangers to you. Probably intruders. Pirates? Or even worse, Danes? Hastily, you retreat into the shadows of your cell, curling up on the small pile of straw that serves as your bed. Your fingers grip the ragged blanket given to you by a guard – a young lad with a pale face and kind eyes who'd seen you shivering, your teeth chattering in the cold night.

You watch as the men are hauled to the cells. The sound of keys turning in locks and the snapping shut of iron-barred doors send a shiver down your spine as you realise that one of the men has been locked in the same cell as you.

"Oh God, help me," you whisper under your breath, noticing the pagan pendant hanging from the neck of the stranger in your cell. Your fears are confirmed: you're locked in a cell with a Dane, the kind of ruthless, heartless warrior you've heard countless stories about. You are frozen, too afraid to move, aware that the slightest sound of your shackles might reveal your hiding place. You hold your breath and pull the blanket over your head, silently praying for the guards to return quickly, before that wild beast in the shape of a man discovers you, before he lays his hands on you. 

Blinded by the blanket, you're cut off from seeing what's happening in the cell, but your fear is too great to risk a glance. The silence is broken only by the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional shuffle from the other cell where the second man is locked up. You feel your legs begin to tingle, going numb from the tension and your cramped position. An involuntary shuffle causes the chains to clink softly, the sound reverberating through you like a fanfare.

"Oh no, please God, no," you silently plead, but it's too late. They've heard you. You bury your head between your knees, wrapping your arms around it, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You curse your trembling limbs as footsteps draw nearer. The stillness around you is palpable. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each shallow breath feeling like an eternity. You wonder, anxiously, what he is waiting for. Your lungs spasm, your ability to breathe constricted, and a mix of whimpers and sobs escapes your lips as your shoulders shake uncontrollably.

The blanket is suddenly whisked away and a sharp yelp escapes your lips as you recoil. Your arms instinctively rise, shielding your head in a protective gesture.

Sihtric's eyes quickly take in the figure before him, immediately recognizing you as a girl. The hands covering your face are small and delicate, unlike those of a man or boy. He notices the shackles binding your ankles and his expression turns to one of surprise and rising anger, wondering who could be so cruel as to confine and possibly torture a woman.

"Hey, you don't have to be afraid of me," Sihtric says softly, carefully moving closer. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, tentatively reaching out his hand, as if to gently touch your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you see his hand approaching. In a reflexive movement, you spring to your feet, driven by fear, and scramble further into the corner, trying to press yourself into the rough wooden wall. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with those of the man beside you.

His presence is intimidating: tall, strong, with broad shoulders and chest, muscular arms visible under his sleeveless armour. His hair, braided on top, falls in wild curls to his shoulders. Even in the dim torchlight, you can see scars marking his forehead and cheek, and an unusual tattoo on his neck. Panic surges within you, and you wrap your arms around yourself protectively, covering as much of your exposed skin above the neckline of your dress as possible. Your trembling legs can no longer support your weight, and you sink back to the ground.

Sihtric observes you, his fingers raking through his hair. There's something about your tightly curled, trembling form, your wide, red, and swollen eyes filled with fear and disdain, that resonates with him. That feeling of being trapped and terrified, it’s all too known to him, it’s still there, it still lingers in his bones. He finds himself unable to look away. Cautiously, Sihtric crouches down, maintaining his distance, not wanting to frighten you further by moving too close. His gaze softens as he watches you, remaining still and quiet.

"I am Sihtric," he introduces himself gently, a softness in his voice. "I understand you're scared. But I promise, as long as we're in this cell, you're safe from me."

You are surprised by the softness of his voice and by the fact that he speaks your tongue, but it does little to calm you. He is what he is – a heathen, a savage and you are completely at his mercy, as the fleeting hope that the guards might return soon fades.  It’s only now that the meaning of the words you overheard has sunken in - the fortress is under attack, and you've been abandoned to a fate that seems increasingly grim, forgotten by a world that seems to have no place for you.

With each movement deliberate and cautious, Sihtric settles himself on the floor near the wall. He leans back, drawing his knees to his chest, and places his hands on his knees visibly, a non-threatening gesture meant to reassure you.

He sits there for a while, quietly watching the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight. From the opposite cell, the sound of Finan's soft snoring indicates that he's making the most of this unexpected respite. Sihtric wants to convey to you that he is no threat. Understanding that words alone cannot convince you, he chooses to show it through his actions. So he just sits there patiently, giving you the space and time you need to realise that he means no harm.

You steal covert glances at the formidable Dane seated beside you. There's something compelling about him that repeatedly draws your gaze back to the stranger. He has remained still for some time, silent and not even looking your way. The air of strength and assurance he exudes is captivating, and his mere presence beside you has an unexpectedly soothing effect. Gradually, you feel the tension in your muscles easing and your sobs slowly subsiding.

Sihtric senses this subtle change in you, indicating that you're no longer overwhelmed by panic. He turns his head just enough to see you and clears his throat gently.

"Please, don't be afraid," Sihtric speaks in a soft, hushed tone. "I mean you no harm," he reassures once again.

Slowly, you lift your head, and your eyes unintentionally lock with his. The warm sincerity you see in them starkly contrasts with his intimidating appearance, and you reluctantly acknowledge that if he had intended to harm you, he wouldn't have waited this long. You break your gaze, only to let out a sharp shriek as you spot a rat sniffing near your feet. Startled by your cry, the rat quickly scurries away, disappearing through a small gap between the wall and the floor.

A smile slowly forms on Sihtric’s lips as he shifts his position slightly and stretches out his legs, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He begins to speak, his voice calm and even. He tells about his childhood friend, a small, clever rat he had named Loki, after the trickster god.

"Loki was smart and fast. He'd come and go as he pleased, squeezing through the tiniest cracks in the walls. Each day, I'd save a bit of my sparse meal to share with him."

You find yourself captivated by his melodic voice, tinged with a slight accent. It almost feels as if he's speaking to himself, and only the occasional discreet glance in your direction reveals his awareness of your presence. As you listen, your breathing steadies, as you are drawn into Sihtric's story, finding solace in the sound of his voice. He recounts how Loki always found him, even in that dirty hole beneath his father’s fortress, and when he pauses, the last words hanging in the air, you unexpectedly find yourself asking, "What happened to him?" surprised to hear your own voice break the silence.

Sihtric's smile dims. "I don't know. When I finally left my father's place, I couldn’t take him with me. But I like to think that Loki kept having his little adventures in those dungeons, maybe even making friends with someone else who needed it. Like that little fellow you probably scared half to death just now."

You don't know whether Sihtric's story is real or invented, yet it stirs something within you that you believed was long extinguished. Is it gratitude? For a fleeting moment, the tale allows you to escape your grim reality, to forget the shackles chafing and bloodying your ankles, the hunger gnawing at your stomach, and even the bleak prospect of having no future.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Sihtric inquires, turning his gaze towards you.

You pause, your eyes lowering to your hands clasped in your lap. For reasons you can't quite explain, you feel a sense of safety in his presence.

"I'm accused of being a witch," you say quietly, your voice carrying a tremor of fear. "I'm waiting for my trial."

"They say I have unnatural powers, that I can summon spirits and cast curses," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not true. I've never harmed anyone. I just... I know herbs and remedies. People in the village would come to me when they were sick."

"People fear what they do not understand," you hear the Dane saying. "And in their fear, they can be cruel."

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. "I'm scared," you admit. "I know what happens to those accused of witchcraft. I've seen... I've seen the pyres."

Sihtric extends his hand slowly, offering a gesture of comfort. You're hesitant at first, but then, driven by an unexpected impulse, you place your hand in his. His grip is warm and reassuring, and you allow yourself to be drawn into a soothing embrace. It's been so long since you were held with such tenderness that you can't even recall the last time. Sihtric gently strokes your dishevelled hair, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat just beneath your ear.

Your moment of solace is abruptly interrupted by a surge of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Four guards burst into the dungeon, heading straight for the cells. The doors swing open, and Sihtric, along with Finan, are abruptly pulled to their feet and dragged out. Amidst the chaos, Sihtric exchanges a quick, knowing glance with Finan and swiftly reaches into Finan's boot, retrieving a small, concealed sharp object.

With rapid precision, Sihtric attacks the guards. The ensuing scuffle is fierce but brief. Within moments, the guards are dead on the dungeon floor, and you stifle a scream, covering your mouth with both hands in shock.

Sihtric casts a quick, conflicted glance back at you in the cell, torn between the need to escape and the desire to help you. 

"Please, don't leave me here," you plead, rushing to the iron bars of your cell.

"Sihtric, we don't have time. She's chained and we don't have the tools to free her," Finan urges, grasping Sihtric's arm. But Sihtric resolutely shakes off his grasp and re-enters the cell.

"Lady, I will return for you. I promise," he whispers, his large hands gently resting on your upper arms.

"Please," you plead, your voice quivering as your fingers cling to his armour. "No, no, no, don't do this to me, please, no..." Your voice cracks, fading into a hoarse whisper, your eyes desperately seeking his.

"I will come back," Sihtric assures you again. His gaze doesn't waver as he cups your face in his hands, looking directly into your eyes. "I will."

He gently frees himself from your grip and turns to leave. Your world seems to crumble around you, despair engulfing you. You grasp the iron bars for support, but they provide little comfort, and you slowly sink to your knees, a desperate cry breaking out as you watch both men swiftly leaving the room, leaving you alone once more.

—---------------------------------------------------

The battle is over, the chaos engulfing the field before the fortress just moments before replaced by a haunting stillness. The ground is littered with fallen warriors, shattered weapons and broken shields, covered with dust and blood. Catching his breath, Sihtric lets his eyes wander around. He spots Finan nearby, bent over and breathing heavily, hands resting on his knees. Sihtric gives him a nod before continuing his search, but there's no sign of Uhtred.

"He's inside the fortress," Finan says, pointing towards Bebbanburg as he straightens up.

Sihtric turns, and a sharp scent of burning hits his nose. Bebbanburg is ablaze. The flames have taken hold of the fortress's roof, and a thick plume of smoke billows into the sky.

"Mighty Godfather, no," Sihtric mutters under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for Thor's hammer pendant on his chest. He hears Finan swearing and calling out to him, but he doesn't pause to listen. Driven by urgency, he breaks into a desperate sprint towards the fortress, pushing through the fatigue that weighs heavily on his muscles.

—-----------------------------------

The first warning is the smell. A sharp, acrid odour of burning reeds gradually fills the dungeon, accompanied by a thin veil of smoke.

"Is anybody there? Help!" you shout, tugging at your chains with increasing nervousness. But the only response is silence, a deep, unsettling quiet. Your heart races, pounding a frenetic rhythm of fear in your chest. You pull against the chains again, as if you hadn’t done it already hundreds of times since your first days here, even though you know it's futile. Still, driven by desperation, you persist. As smoke from the burning fortress above seeps into the cell, your efforts grow more frantic. You keep yanking at the iron shackles, the metal chafing against your ankles, turning raw and aching skin into bleeding wounds. But you don't stop. You can't.

Breathing becomes increasingly difficult as the air thickens with smoke, stinging your eyes and scratching at your throat. Your mind races, frantically replaying every moment you've spent within these walls, desperately searching for some overlooked detail, some key to escape that you might have missed. But there is nothing. The cell walls appear to be closing in, the shadows deepening and becoming more threatening as the flames above intensify.

Your hands, now raw and bleeding from your futile struggles, tremble as you keep tugging weakly at the chains, tears streaming down your cheeks, not just from the smoke but from the crushing helplessness. You are alone, there is nobody in this cursed world that cares for you, that will miss you and remember you. 

Your life doesn’t flash before your eyes, as you have heard it told so many times. It settles around you like a heavy cloak, woven with threads of regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the bitter sting of injustice. 

"Hey, Loki!" you find yourself smiling at the small rat near your feet. "Will you tell Sihtric that I waited for him? Tell him I believed him. Tell him I have no hard feelings. I just hope he's safe," you say, your voice breaking as you reach out to gently touch the little creature, but it is gone.

Suddenly, you hear the metallic clang of the cell door flying open. Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pressing you close to a broad chest. "I'm here. You don't need Loki to deliver your messages. I promised I would return, and here I am," you hear Sihtric's familiar, soft voice whispering in your ear.

"You came back? For me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with sobs, barely able to believe what you're seeing. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, you lean into the sturdy embrace of the very man whom you had feared so profoundly. 

The sound of Sihtric's axe pounding against the stone foundation of the fastening is deafening. Despite his efforts, the Roman-built wall is solid and unyielding. He shifts his focus to cutting through the chains, but his axe has dulled from striking stone. With one final, forceful swing, the axe shaft snaps, leaving Sihtric holding a broken handle, the blade clattering to the ground. Undeterred, he grasps the chains with his bare hands, pulling at them with all his might.

"It's no use," you say, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, listen to me," your voice grows louder, trying to break through to Sihtric, who seems oblivious to your words.

"Stop it!" you finally cry out, grasping his hands in yours. Sihtric's eyes meet yours, his face a canvas of pain and despair, his fingers still tightly gripping the chain.

"There's no more time. You need to go. You have to save yourself," you implore, cupping his face in your hands, ensuring he can't look away. "Do you understand? Leave! Save yourself!" your voice rises almost to a yell.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, your eyes locked. Then you hear the dull sound of the chain hitting the ground as Sihtric finally releases it, his arms dropping limply to his sides.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I… I've failed you."

"No, you haven't. You kept your promise. You came back," you reply, your fingers gently caressing Sihtric's thick, curly hair. You wonder if the warmth and ragged breathing you feel against your skin are from him or from the encroaching fire above.

You lift your face towards Sihtric, the tears on your cheeks mixing with the dirt and soot. Gently, almost hesitantly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft, filled with a sense of urgency. Sihtric shudders as he responds in kind, his lips crushing against yours so eagerly, so desperately. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer, and you feel his fingers trembling as they caress your back.

There's a raw honesty in this moment, the rest of the world – the smoke, the distant sounds of the burning fortress – all fade into the background. For those few seconds, it's just the two of you, sharing a moment of solace in a reality that seems increasingly bleak.

With a strength you didn't know you had, you manage to pull back, breaking the kiss. 

"You have to leave, Sihtric! You can't stay here with me," you plead, panic and despair evident in your voice.

Sihtric looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "I can't. I can’t leave you like this. Not alone, not chained," he says firmly.

Before you can protest further, he gently scoops you into his strong arms and lowers both of you to the ground. Your backs rest against the wall of the cell, his arms encircling you protectively.

"Please, Sihtric, you have to go! Save yourself!" you cry, your hands weakly beating against his chest, your pleas muffled against the fabric of his armour.

But Sihtric only tightens his hold, pulling you closer into his embrace. "I won't leave you," he murmurs, his voice resolute yet tinged with sadness. "We're in this together now."

Your struggles gradually subside as the realisation sinks in that he won't be swayed and you cease your futile attempts to show him away. Nestling against his strong body you let your tears flow freely.

“I don’t want this, Sihtric. It’s madness. Why are you doing this?” you mutter through your sobs, but Sihtric’s grip around you gets only tighter.

—--------------------------------------------

As your energy fades and your consciousness begins to slip away, the distant sounds of the dungeon seem to grow louder and more urgent. In your dwindling awareness, you hear the hurried footsteps of multiple people and the muffled clamour of loud voices.

Amidst this chaos, a distinctive sound cuts through the haze - the pounding of a hammer, resonating through the dungeon.

Suddenly, you feel multiple arms reaching for you, lifting you from Sihtric's embrace. You're too weak to resist or understand fully what's happening, but you sense movement as you're carried away from the cell.

You're vaguely aware of being brought into the open air. The cool, fresh breeze on your face contrasts sharply with the stifling, smoky air of the dungeon.

As consciousness slips from your grasp, the last thing you become aware of is the sensation of being laid down gently, with a flurry of urgent voices surrounding you. The chaos around you becomes distant, fading into a blur. Yet, amidst this disorientation, there's a distinct, grounding sensation - a hand clasping yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

In that brief, fleeting moment, you recognize the touch. It's Sihtric. Despite the confusion and the murmur of voices around you, his presence is unmistakable. The strength and warmth of his grip offer a sense of safety and comfort, a silent promise that you're not alone.

[lilithknoxville]

Could you perhaps do a Johnny angst with a happy ending? I don’t have anything particular in mind, just wanting to suffer 🫶🏻

Only You (Johnny Knoxville x Reader)

Summary: “Am I not enough for you anymore?” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “I mean - Jesus! You were practically undressing her with your eyes!” Your voice rose sharply, your chest feeling tight as you exploded on him.

“W-Wait a second!” Johnny’s voice rose, and he held up a shaking hand towards you, “Where are you even getting the idea that you’re ‘not enough for me’?” He asked, and you scoffed incredulously.

“When I watch my boyfriend eye fuck some blonde and look at her the exact same way he looks at me.”

Content Warnings: Mild Angst, Swearing, Insecurities

Word Count: 3,019

AN: aaaaaaaaah this was actually so much fun to write! I don’t know if this exactly the angst you were looking for, I do have another one I was writing with this ask, but I don’t know if I’m as confident in it as I am this one. As usual, no beta reader, we die like men. Requests are still open! Onto the story! ✨

You grit your teeth, the sound of the interviewer’s laughter almost like an ice pick through your skull. A sour expression was on your face as you tried to tune her out, but when your boyfriend purred another compliment to her, you hit your breaking point. It was no secret that Johnny was a natural flirt - Hell, most of the time, he did it unintentionally - but with how many compliments he had thrown at her, it was starting to feel like it wasn’t unintentional anymore. You had enough.

You turned on your heel, tears stinging your eyes. You all but ran to the exit door, slamming it open with your hands. You could hear a small commotion inside, the blonde’s voice asking if everything was okay, and something unintelligible from Johnny. You stepped outside into the hot June air of Los Angeles, your breath catching in your throat. You ran your hand up from your forehead into your hair, trying to clear your thoughts.

Your hands fumbled around in your Johnny’s flannel, trying to find the cigarette pack you had hastily grabbed this morning. You pulled out the pack, the lighter placed inside, and sparked up a cigarette. You took a long drag, trying to use the stale taste of the tobacco to calm your nerves.

It was a silent ten minutes, the sound of the city surrounding you, before you heard the door open behind you. You didn’t turn around, already on your fourth cigarette. You took a long drag, looking down at the parking lot in front of you, where the past three cigarette butts were scattered on the ground.

“Don’t you know those things give you cancer?” You heard the southern drawl of your boyfriend’s accent, and usually the sound of it would make you smile. You grit your teeth, closing your eyes.

“I’m aware.” You spoke simply, your tone cold and emotionless. The air between the two of you chilled, and you felt him come up behind you. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You’re mad.” He commented, his tone amused, but when you turned your head to meet his eyes, he quickly realized that it was much more than a simple anger.

“And you’re Einstein.” You spat, pulling out of his hands. He reached out for you, but you held up a hand, stopping him, “Not right now.” You heaved out a sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“Doll, is this because of that interview?” He asked, confusion crossing his features, “I mean, I know I was laying on the charm thick, but I didn’t thi-”

“Laying on the charm thick?!” Your voice rose sharply, cutting him off. He blinked, looking taken aback by your sudden interruption, “Holy shit, if you call what you did in there ‘Laying on the charm thick’, then I’d fucking hate to see what you actually flirting looks like!”

“H-Hey, now wait a minute.” Johnny held up a finger, his voice stuttering for a moment, “Doll, I can explain.”

“Oh!” You laughed humorlessly, crossing your arms over your chest, “You can explain? Let me guess, it’s also ‘Not what it looks like’?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. The look on his face told you that was his next set of words, “Because I’ll tell you what it looked like, PJ. It looked like you shamelessly flirting, while your girlfriend was standing less than a fucking foot away!” You spat, your hands coming to your head in frustration.

“O-Okay, you’ve got me there. I can see how it came across like that.” He grimaced, and you laughed humorlessly again.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “I mean - Jesus! You were practically undressing her with your eyes!” Your voice rose sharply, your chest feeling tight as you exploded on him.

“W-Wait a second!” Johnny’s voice rose, and he held up a shaking hand towards you, “Where are you even getting the idea that you’re ‘not enough for me’?” He asked, and you scoffed incredulously.

“When I watch my boyfriend eye fuck some blonde and look at her the exact same way he looks at me.” You crossed your arms across your chest, wrapping them around you almost in protection. The sound of the cars honking on the street was making your emotions run even higher, and you shook your head.

“We will talk more about this later.” You held up a finger to silence him when he protested, “You’ve got more interviews to get through. I’m going home.” You dug the keys to your car out of your flannel pocket.

“Hon…” Johnny started, but you shook your head, meeting his eyes.

“I can’t sit here and watch the love of my fucking life flirt with other women like I don’t exist to him.” You admitted, your voice hollow, “I’ll see you at home.” And with that, you were stalking off across the parking lot to your car. You unlocked the doors, casting a glance over at Johnny, who hadn’t moved an inch. He was watching you with guilty eyes, and you tore your gaze away from him, getting into your car.

The drive home was silent, a pop song playing on the radio softly, but it was all background noise compared to the whirlwind in your brain. Your emotions were a jumbled mess of insecurities rearing their ugly head, deep sadness, and pure rage.

You made it home quickly, and you parked your car, sighing heavily. You let yourself in the front door, shutting the door behind you. You thought you would have a moment to yourself, but the piercing blue of Bam’s eyes caught you off guard. You crossed your arms, looking at the brunet who was currently laid across your couch.

“Do I even want to know why you’re here? Or how you got in?” You asked, leaning against the back of the couch, looking down at your friend.

“Johnny called me. Told me to be here before you got home.” Bam answered simply, sitting up on the couch and patting the space next to him, “Said you needed someone to scream at, and you know I’m your man for that. And you don’t want to know how I got in.”

“I’m not gonna scream at you, fuck.” You sighed, coming around the couch and flopping down next to Bam. You rested your head against the back of the couch, closing your eyes, “I shouldn’t even be as upset as I am. I know that rationally, but-”

“Seeing another girl smile at Johnny the same way you do sets your blood on fire?” Bam finished your sentence, and you looked over at him with depressed eyes.

“Yeah.” You answered slowly, the depression deepening on your face as you unpacked your emotions, “I know Johnny is an attractive man. I’d be stupid to think that there aren’t women who look at him and want him with every breath they take. But seeing Johnny playing into their fantasies - albeit with his words and not physically - just doesn’t sit right with me. I watched him look at that girl the same way he looks at me in bed.” You spoke softly, your eyes slipping closed again as you heaved out a sigh.

“I’m not going to sit here and say your brain is stupid for thinking like that.” Bam started, his finger idly spinning one of his rings around his finger, “But I’m gonna tell you that Knox isn’t one to fuck around on the one he loves.” You opened your eyes, looking over at him with a soft, confused look. Bam shifted uncomfortably, having to play therapist being something he wasn’t used to.

“Look, he was with this one chick for years.” Bam shifted on the couch to where he was facing you, throwing one of his arms over the back of the couch, “Her name was Brittany. He started dating her when we first started Jackass, and he was completely devoted to her. Anything she wanted, she got. If she even hinted at wanting something, he was immediately buying it for her. Every single second of his day was spent on her, and she took fucking advantage of that.” He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“She was fucking around on him, behind his back. Everyone knew it. Hell, I think even he knew it, but he was too scared to be alone. She was all he had ever known, so he suffered through it. Multiple opportunities were opened to him during that to fuck around on her, but he never took it. He always said that two wrongs don’t make a right, so he wasn’t going to do unto her the same pain when he hated what was happening to him.” Bam explained, and it felt like your breath was stolen from your lungs, “So, I completely get having insecurities, but trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about for Johnny fucking around on you or randomly leaving you. He’s a people pleaser, yes, but all you have to do is talk to him and that comes to a complete stop.” Bam gave you a lopsided smile, “We all see how happy he is with you. He’s made a complete 180 turn from the broken dude he used to be, and - Fuck - you treat him like he’s made of gold. You two are made for each other, through and through.”

“Bam…” You pressed your lips together in a thin line, your mind racing, “I was a fucking bitch to him before I left set.” Your voice was quiet, and Bam let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, I can assure you, you weren’t a bitch to him. You were dealin’ with some weird emotions, and if you can explain that to him, there isn’t gonna be any bad blood between you two. Knox is a good ass dude. He completely gets having insecurities, but he’s not a mind reader.” He looked at you pointedly, and you cringed slightly.

“And it’s not fair to expect him to know what’s going on in my mind if I don’t say anything.” Your voice was small, the weight of everything hitting you all at once.

“Atta girl.” Bam snapped his fingers, “You have to talk to him about how you’re feeling. He can’t just magically know what’s going on in your head without you talking to him about what you’re feeling.” He gave you another lopsided smile, and you let out a heavy sigh.

“I appreciate you, Bam.” You gave him a soft smile, looking over at him. He shrugged nonchalantly, opening his arms for a hug. You chuckled gently, leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him. Your mouth pressed against his shoulder, “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.” You murmured into the fabric of his jacket.

“You wouldn’t have a kickass friend who pulls your head out of your ass and gives you damn good advice.” Bam joked, a lighthearted smile on his lips, and you let out a soft laugh as well.

It was a couple of hours later when Johnny finally came home, the smell of dinner cooking making his stomach grumble. Bam had been long gone by then, having sent Johnny a text that you were okay now. Johnny had tried to send you a couple of texts, but Bam advised against it, telling Johnny to give you space right now so you could sort through all of your emotions.

The sound of your gentle singing made Johnny’s heart clench in his chest, and he sighed softly. He closed the front door gently behind him, kicking off his shoes and placing them in the small shoe rack you had bought a couple of months ago. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers, a small piece of his long winded apology. He walked through the living room and made his way into the kitchen, his heart hammering in his throat. When he turned the corner into the kitchen, you were standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot with potatoes in it. You turned your head towards him, and he thrust the flowers out to you.

“Doll, I cannot apologize enough.” He started, his voice strained. You gently took the flowers from his hands, your breathing catching in your throat, “I just-”

“Baby.” You cut him off, blinking up towards the ceiling, trying to push back the tears that threatened to stream down your cheeks. You looked back at him, tears hanging heavy on your lashline, “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I promise you.”

“I do though.” He protested, swallowing thickly. You turned from him, gently placing the flowers on the counter as you turned down the burner that the pot was sitting on. You turned back towards him, “I’m always so obsessed with this stupid ‘bad boy, flirty southern’ image that I don’t stop to think about how it affects the woman I’m in love with.”

“You can’t beat yourself up too much, PJ.” You shook your head, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I got upset and angry with you, when I’ve never explained to you my own emotions. You’re not a mindreader, and it’s not fair of me to expect you to be one.” Johnny blinked in confusion, and you crossed your arms tightly in front of you, avoiding his eyes for a moment, “I know there are much prettier women out there than me. I’d be an idiot and completely vain to think I was the most drop dead gorgeous woman out there.” You swallowed thickly, meeting Johnny’s eyes, “It’s naive of me to think that no one in the world flirts with you - You’re extremely attractive. And it’s not fair of me to get upset with you when women flirt with you. But I can’t help but get upset whenever you flirt with them right back.”

“Doll…” Johnny whispered, but you held up a finger, cutting him off again.

“Please let me finish.” You looked at him, and he nodded, “I am so goddamned terrified that some wind is going to blow wrong and steal you away from me. I am so scared that some pretty blonde is going to waltz into your life and make you realize you don’t love me as much as you thought you did. I am beyond terrified that you’re going to wake up one day, look over at me, and ask yourself ‘Do I really like her as much as I originally thought?’.” Your voice broke with the threat of tears, and your breath was shaky in your chest, “I know nothing is guaranteed, but the idea of not waking up beside you is one that makes me so scared each and every single day. The idea of you just leaving me randomly one day is something that rattles around in my head like a fucking pinball, and it haunts my mind every single second of my life.” You ran your fingers through your hair, sighing heavily.

Johnny was silent for a moment, before he crossed the kitchen to you, wrapping his arms around your neck. His hand came to your hair, gently holding your head against his chest. He rested his chin on top of your head, before moving his head to where his lips were pressed against your hair. You gasped softly, clutching onto Johnny tightly.

“My babydoll…” He whispered into your hair, pulling back and looking into your eyes, “No one in this world will ever compare to you. No single person walking this earth right now, or that will walk on this earth in the future, will ever be able to replace you. If I lost you due to my own stupid mistakes, I would never be able to forgive myself.” His eyes were filled with genuine love and sincerity, and the sight made your eyes well up with tears again, “I promise you, there will never be a day that I wake up and question my love for you. There will never be a day where I will even entertain someone’s idea of being on my arm, because that’s where I want to keep you for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you, sweetheart. I want to watch our kids running around in the backyard, I want to grow old with you.”

“PJ…” You whispered, but he pulled you into a breathless kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. Your hands ghosted over his wrists as he poured every single ounce of love he felt for you into the bruising kiss. After a few seconds, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I cannot apologize to you enough, doll. Please forgive me.” He whispered, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Always, PJ.” You whispered back, closing your eyes, “I love you so fucking much.” You smiled up at him, and he let out a breathless chuckle.

“Oh, doll. I love you so much more.” He pressed kiss after kiss to your forehead, making you giggle, “There’s that laugh.” He murmured against your skin, a smile crossing his lips.

“C’mon, you gotta let me finish cooking.” You whined, giggling again as he pulled you harder against him, a deep grumble of protest echoed out of his chest, “I know you haven’t eaten all day, and I don’t want you to waste away to nothing.” You teased.

“Fine, fine.” He relented finally, letting you out of his arms, “Only because you said my favourite word.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, smiling wistfully.

“What, cooking?” You stuck your tongue out at him, which made him laugh brightly. As you looked over at him, warmth and love bloomed in your chest. His words of ‘No one in this world will ever compare to you’ echoed through your mind and was a soothing, healing balm to your soul. You had a feeling that everything would be okay, as long as you two were by each other’s sides.

[thesiltverses]

character writing tips??

Everything's subjective, but for me:

For character creation (as for plotting, as for worldbuilding), each of us ultimately has to find our own best practice and preferred method through trial and failure. There's a vast spectrum of tips ranging from 'create a bullet-pointed list of their favourite foods, make them a playlist of their favourite songs, make sure you understand every facet of who they are and where they've been before you sit down to write them' and 'discover the character as you write them!' and there's no objective answer. I like to give my characters a starting point, a starting goal, and starting principles, then toss them in the deep end and see how they react and change over time, but that's not for everyone. Try every approach and adjust to taste - does the character start to bore you after ten pages because you've already written them out as a straitjacketed profile and there's nothing left to find out? Or could you do with having a clearly defined arc, or more small personal habits or peccadillos?

2. For continuous character development (particularly if you're writing something serialised and longform like a podcast, particularly if you're writing for an internet audience), try and identify - and then be prepared to constantly out-think - the temptations that lead to calcification or Flanderisation of the character, because the golden fruit often ends up rotting the tree that birthed it.

Beware of your past successes, in other words, because they sway you and they corrupt the character. It's incredibly easy to find yourself straying towards 'oh, it was impactful when X came bursting in to save the day and they haven't really had a moment like that since, how can we recapture that?' or 'people really liked it when Y & Z had a big angsty argument about their feelings, maybe we should be giving them even more angsty arguments about their feelings' or 'the internet loves mean badass women, maybe A should be just incredibly mean and badass in all her interactions so we can get one million likes and be famous.' (I've caught myself doing all of these, and definitely haven't always succeeded in stopping myself.)

But fishing for a specific audience reaction or trying to stage-manage a narrative outcome is how you end up with zombie protagonists - stale archetypes acting out the same formulaic moments over and over in the hope of reliving the old applause, instead of characters that are still authentically capable of change or capable of surprising you.

[a-jynx]

By the Stars & the Moon, I'll find you.

another angsty astarion idea, who knew! i hope you enjoy this lil idea, it's been racking my brain <3

once i romance some more characters in bg3, i'll hopefully be able to write about them as well!

um, so i am so deeply sorry? this fic got away from me (hint; this is why i put the poll for an extra-long fic or multiple parts...) i hope you still enjoy! <3

warnings: there are brief mention of smut, blood drinking, biting, killing of people, and the italicized/bold are either thoughts/memories!

word count; 7k

Dull sunlight broke through the curtains at the Elvin Inn, another little brothel lost on the edges of Baulder's Gate. The scent of ale and stale smoke filtered through the air, warm bodies stuffing themselves full of wine and liquor to help forget about their troubles, some even stuffing themselves into places that don't belong. You jumped as another body slammed into the booth next to you, jostling your ale from its mug. His putrid body odor smothered your sensitive smell.

"Hello, beautiful," his voice slurred as you rolled your eyes, slicing them towards him with a purse of your lips. "What're you doin' sittin' all by yourself?" His breath licked into your senses, making you gag before humming and taking a long sip from your ale. "Observing. People watching. However, you'd like to call it." You shrugged as he suddenly slung an arm around your shoulders, tugging your hood from your head and pulling you close. "Well, let me help you," his body pressed further into your side, his hand caressing your scarred neck. "That man over there," he paused, jutting his head towards the man surrounded by women. "He'll be set for life with his mistresses." He laughed, his body shaking yours as you huffed. Another sip. "That one?" Men were surrounding a young woman, her eyes low and her chest jumping with gentle laughter as a man curled into her, his hand tugging at her hair. "They'll end up married by the end of the night."

"You talk a lot for someone who observes." You mutter, downing the rest of your mug as he snorted. "I'm just tellin' ya what I observe, sweetheart," he suddenly grew closer. His hands grazed down your collarbone and the other rested against your lap. You snarled, pushing yourself away from his touch but his grip tightened. "Besides, I love observing someone else having-" You clenched your jaw, grabbing his chin with a tight grip.

"That won't be happening tonight for you, ale breathe." You hissed, splitting your lips into a grin as your fangs glittered in the dim lights. The man grew wide-eyed, his lips fumbling to make words as you licked at the sharp canines. "Though," you whispered, tugging him close as your lips ghosted his neck causing him to flinch into your hold. "I am feeling rather... Thirsty." The words slithered down his spine as tears cascaded down his cheeks, causing your smile to widen.

"Plea- Please, I have a family-"

"Yet, you hang around here until sundown." You grinned, releasing his chin and jumping forward, piercing his throat with a gargle as he thrashed against you. You sucked deeply. The copper and ale mixed heavenly on your tongue, coating your throat and emptying into your belly as he slumped against you. His blood dripped onto your chest as you licked up the stranded string dribbling down your chin. Your belly and chest felt warmer, soothed even. Moving his corpse to the other side of the booth, you stumbled back into your darkened seat, sighing contently. At least you got a meal out of the place...

"Any rooms will do, really." His voice pierced the air as you blinked, lips falling agape. "We'll only need it for a few nights." A stifled laugh left him as you lowered your head, quickly finding the new group of adventures that had wandered into the tavern. It couldn't be... It's been over 200 centuries since-

"Astarion, did you get us a room?" One of the women asked, her frown seemed plastered on her face while her arms crossed her chest. "Working on it, Shadowheart," his voice tightened as he leaned against the bar, flashing a... Dazzling smile. "What'd you say, handsome...? 300 coins for the next few nights?"

Astarion. Astarion Ancunín. But he escaped... Why did he come back?!

"Whatever, just know you'll never get a good night sleep here." Lonan warned while trading the vampire a key for some coins. All you could do was stare. Watching as he moved easily through the overcrowded tavern. He looked... Happy. Warm, even. His party followed behind him weaving through the tables and crowds. You quickly downed the last of your ale, cringing at the flavor that suddenly reminded you of stomach bile.

"We'll all be sharing, so I hope you and Lae'zel have worked out your differences." Astarion snickered, handing the key off to a man lavished in a dark purple robe, who rolled his eyes. "Behave, we just got this room and it'll be nice to have actual beds instead of sleeping on the hard ground." The man groaned, snatching the key as the others began to go upstairs, leaving the white-haired vampire to himself. It felt like the world had stopped as you turned your head, trying to hide your own ruby-colored eyes. "I'll be just fine Gale! I'll send up that cheap, vinegar wine for you and Wyll to share." He sent a wink as the man, Gale, rolled his eyes with a sigh before following the rest of their party upstairs. This was your chance.

You quickly moved out of the booth, your cloak catching the table causing the ale mug to go tumbling to the floor. A small group took notice of the noise but turned away, but of course... Of course, it had caught his attention. Yanking your cloak free, you tugged the hood over your head with a sigh before seeing his figure move in closer. Looking over your shoulder, you meet each other's gaze. Both parties too stunned to move - either fear or surprise - who could tell? You huffed out a sigh, watching as his nostrils flared - inhaling - and his eyes grew even wider as you took a few cautious steps back, turning away and moving towards the exit.

"Wait!" His voice cut through the loud bards' playing and the shouts of patrons as he pushed through them, following behind you. Gritting your teeth, you shoved a few staggering men into his path, quickly pushing out the door and out into the busy and bright streets. "Hey!" His voice broke through as he tried to shove past the men you threw his way, smirking, you quickly ran down the alleyway. Stumbling into the rough wall, you pushed off and ran down the corridor. Glancing back, you grinned as you saw him appear at the end you had just ran from. Standing for a moment, you looked at each other with your hands tickling the handle of your sword. His own weapon reflected the bright sun, your eyes widened as you took note of his body blanketed by the same ray. He's immune...?

"You shouldn't have come back, runaway." You spoke with a grin, flashing your fangs as he went to run towards you, an obvious snarl on his lips. You rolled your eyes, grabbing your cloak and dragging it over your body, disappearing into a puff of thick red smoke. Astarion stumbled over the cobblestone, growling as he stashed his dagger away. He'd lost his one up on Cazador. But he knew the spawn's face. He could find them again, and make sure their head became Cazador's warning that he's back in town...

**************

"Remind me why we had to leave that beautiful place again?" Gale groaned as Astarion led them through the thick forest. He had only told the party that he had seen of one Cazador's hunters and that the brothel - no matter how nice it was - was infested. "Astarion is the vampire expert, and he said if it was dangerous than I believe him." Shadowheart quipped, shifting her packs' weight with a sigh. "Besides, Halsin was getting antsy in there anyway." She couldn't fight back the grin as the taller elf shot her a sheepish grin.

"Alright, we should be far enough out that we won't have to worry about of Cazador's little leeches," he sighed, dropping his own pack with a grunt. He was being hopeful in the least. Who knows the length those spawns would go to bring him back to his shackles. Blinking away the memories, the party began to set up their shared camp, leaving Astarion to set up his own tent with ease. The soft duck pillows and blankets littering his camp softened the blow of the hard earth beneath him. The vanity in front of him held no image, causing his fingers to shake as he placed it on its desk. Dragging his fingers down the golden edges, all he could think was about the spawn from Elvins'. The dark cloak hugging them and hiding most of their... Condition. Those brilliant and glittering red gems seemed to glint when he chased them - they seemed excited. Thirsty for a hunt. His stomach lurched at the thought, his fingers shaking just like they did when he faced them in that alleyway.

Astarion jumped at the sound of Halsin cutting firewood, a quick sigh leaving his lips as licked at his fangs, allowing them to nick his tongue. His heart seemed to rattle against his chest as he rolled his shoulders, going into his tent and picking up one of the many books he had gathered on his party's venture. He would make a plan. A trap. He can easily best an overly eager spawn. He smiled to himself, he was going to get answers, one way or another.

**************

You moved carefully through the woods. Inhaling deeply, you were greeted with the angry scent of a burning fire and hints of different peoples' blood. Their bodies moving and pumping the intoxicating scent. Licking your teeth, you moved closer, already seeing the tents come into sight. How had no one else caught this spawn yet?

Your back slammed into a nearby tree as a sharp edge bit into your throat. A muffled shout left you as you met his bright, red eyes. You couldn't fight back the grin as he pressed himself further into you, the dagger carefully decorating your neck with a spot of blood. "Now, you're going to answer me and tell me everything I want to know," his voice came out thick, rough even. His hot breath panted against your cheek as you sucked your teeth.

"Ask away, runaway."

"Stop calling me that," he growled, pressing the blade harder as you hissed through clenched teeth, showing off your own fangs. Astarion blinked, your fangs weren't new. You were almost... As old as he was, as he could be. "Tell me who turned you. Who made you a spawn." He all but spat in what sounded like disgust. Anger. Disappointment. You swallowed thickly, moving your hand that had curled around his wrist that held the blade to your throat away, you revealed the other side of your neck. His eyes widened as he recognized the mark. His bite mark.

"Guess I wasn't as memorable as you were for me." You spoke dryly, sighing as he slowly dropped the pressure of his dagger. He took a small step back, staring at you with something you hated. Pity. "Don't look at me like I'm a lost pet," you spat, tugging your cloak trim closer. "You're just as lost as I am."

"Why're you here." He hissed, sleeving his dagger once again as you sighed, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I came here to warn you-" Your back collided with the bark again, this time his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Both hands shot up, gripping his wrist with a strangled wheeze.

"Warn me?! You should've run to warn your precious master," Astarion all but spit out each word as you hissed, digging your claws into his flesh with a growl. He barely flinched at the pain, merely hissing at the sting of your sharp nails.

"He's nothing to me! He abandoned me when I tried to save my-" You croaked, lips trembling as he growled, dropping you to the forest floor with a grunt. You gasped, grasping at your throat with a coughing fit. "Who did you save? Yourself? Shocking that a spawn would try anything against its master." He tsked, watching as you rose and leaned against the trees' bark, huffing deeply. Rubbing your sore neck, you rolled your eyes before slowly standing to your full height. "We never got along. Besides, I wanted out of that damned place for a long time." You spat out the last words, causing him to frown at you. He had caused this to fall onto you. You had been one of his first consorts for Cazador... One of his many firsts.

"I.. If you're looking for an apology, don't hold your breath. It's not in my nature, darling." He almost snorted with a huff. You rolled your eyes, taking a step towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't want an apology. What I want is your help."

"What?" He glanced at you, his brow perked up and with a slight tug of his lips. He may be hesitant, but he was intrigued. "What could I possibly help you with? And why would I even consider helping you?"

"You came back for a reason." You pointed, picking at your nails. "That reason has to do with Cazador. You want what he has, and to get that you'll have put that damned dagger through his heart," you hissed with a sickening grin. "Let me help you, and you help me." You stated matter-of-factly as he groaned, rubbing at his chin. "What could you possibly know about Cazador that I don't already know?" Astarion scoffed, waving his hands in the air as you carefully pulled off your hood, gently unclasping your cloak, tugging down your loose tunic. Turning around and presenting your back to Astarion, who stared with wide eyes at the infernal sigils carved jaggedly into your flesh.

"That he's planning to ascend." You almost whispered. His shock state makes you inhale deeply, quickly shrugging your cloak back on. Heat rose to your cheeks to the best of its ability as you turned to face him, sighing before meeting his eyes once more.

"And he needs us to finish the ritual."

********

"Tell me about the ritual," Astarion sat across from you as you glanced around his tent. It seemed more like a home than your cell or the room you rented at the Elvin Inn. "All of it." Turning back towards him, you reached into your satchel and pulled out a book. Flipping open and rifling through the pages, you thumbed through it until you landed on the stages.

"This is all I know of it. He's been planning this for centuries," you paused, turning the book towards him as he scooted closer, his fingers gently pressed against the yellow-tinted pages. "He must've had it planned since the night he changed you..." Your voice lowered as he glanced up at you through his lashes. "How can you be for sure? What if this was a- was a trap? A fake?" He laughed in his throat as you rolled your eyes, scooting closer and flipping the pages a few more times. Pointing at a few paragraphs as Astarion's eyes moved over the words. It was Cazador's own handwriting. This was his journal.

"How did you get this...?" His voice was low, barely a murmur as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide as he took in your features. You blinked once, twice, three times, before scoffing and leaning back from him - heat moved through your chilled figure. "It was simple, honestly... Cazador had me as his prized spawn," you scoffed out a laugh, picking at your nails once more before shrugging. "I was able to sneak into his quarters without much of a second thought. Everyone believed I was meant to be there, so I acted like it. I took the journal and ran,"

"How did you escape? You could've died from the sunlight-" Astarion scoffed, closing the book with a hard thump as you rolled your eyes.

"I waited, clearly." You spat, dragging your knees up to your chest with a sigh. "I listened to him tear apart his quarters and office trying to find it. He killed tens of us with such... Ease, that it felt as if I was dying every time, they hit the floor." Your voice was a small whisper, feeling tears well-up along your waterline. Astarion stared at you, brows furrowed, and his lips pulled in a tight frown.

"Do... Do you remember who he killed?" His voice was careful - like tiptoeing on ice. Ice that had already shattered and been refrozen.

"I only knew a few, maybe three of them, by name? They looked so different when they hit the floor," you turned your attention to your hands. Hard blood stained your palms while your fellow spawns' faces’ broke through your thoughts. Their screams echoing as you stared at the stained lines of your skin. "Teyona, Nyla, and... And Sebastian." You cut your attention towards Astarion, his face looked as if he'd seen a gnoll. You remembered how much Sebastian meant to Astarion, at least when he first turned him. They were more than spawn and consort - they were lovers. Until Cazador tricked them - him - just like he did to everyone in that foul castle.

"I'm sorry, I knew he meant something to you,"

"Please,” Astarion all but scoffed, but you could see the glossiness in his eyes. “That was centuries ago. Besides,” he reopened the book, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. “If Sebastian ever saw me, he’d probably try and run a stake through my heart.” A small smile graced his lips as you frowned. Sebastian had spoken about how Astarion tricked him, but he also spoke about how loved he felt... You shrugged, leaning into your knees with a muffled sigh. “You might’ve tricked him - lured him - but Sebastian talked about how much you poured love into it. He had to have known you might’ve cared more than let on.” He paused his page flipping, his lips pulled tight again. You could see the imaginative clogs clanking around in his head, you watched as he swallowed thickly. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter anymore," he paused, his eyes staring at the book, blankly. "He's dead." Astarion wettened his lips, his eyes flickering over the chicken scratch of your old master's handwriting. "You never told me what you'd be getting out of this little... Deal, we have on-going." Astarion's attention flickered to you for a moment as you cleared your throat.

"Does my part of the deal truly concern you?"

"No, but I'd rather know what the other party gets out of my sweet helpfulness." You couldn't fight the urge to roll your eyes. Nibbling at your lip, you grabbed the book from Astarion, who fought back for a second before releasing it to your grasp. Flipping a few pages towards the back, you landed on what looked like a list, or a note of some type. "Cazador was outraged when you fled, he took most of his anger out on the spawns' you had collected - myself included. For some reason, he took an interest when I fought back. I bit him, clawed at his clothes, ripped out his hair... Hells, I fought like I was going to die,"

"Because you would've." Astarion spoke quickly, his body facing towards you as you turned to look at him, already feeling the hot tears well up. "No... No, maybe in the end, but we were all part of his big plan. This," you held up the tattered journal, your hand shaking. "This ritual is what kept me alive. What kept you alive. He had to have planned this from the beginning." Your voice shook, tears spilling over and down your cool cheeks. Stomach twisting in tight knots as you dropped the book onto Astarions' carpeted tent floor, clenching your trembling hands into tight fists. His eyes flickered between the book and yourself, studying how you shook when speaking about this ritual - this ascension.

"Well, good to know I'm important for something." He laughed dryly, before standing and brushing himself off, glancing towards you. "When was the last time you fed?" You blinked at the question; your stomach seemed to twist even tighter at the mere thought. Standing up from your spot on the ground, you rolled your shoulders. "At the inn-"

"You fed on a drunk man?" Astarion released a loud, exaggerated laugh as you rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin as he wheezed. "That is fantastic, I'm shocked you were able to run from me,"

"And yet the great runaway spawn couldn't catch me, I suppose called me shocked as well." You released a short snort as Astarion placed his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes as he shouldered past you and outside his tent with you quick to follow. Darkness had already tucked away the world, leaving his companions to dream sweetly in their tents as you both moved towards the woods.

"You avoided the topic," Astarion broke the silence as you walked down a small pathway in the woods, towards a small clearing in a field. "Of what you'll be gaining from all of this. I mean," he paused, leaning against a tree and crossing his arms. "Cazador will want to send you to Avernus, only to bring you back and do it all over again." You merely shrugged. You knew the cost of doing this - all of it. Taking the book, tracking down and helping Astarion... Fighting for your past. You wandered around the tree, settling next a fallen branch while watching the gentle stream ahead of you both. "I understood the risk of doing any of this - escaping, taking the journal, seeking out you, hells even drinking from that patron would've gotten me buried." You licked at your dry lips, suddenly aware of how dry they felt. Astarion slinked closer to you, settling on the branch next to you as your knees knocked together, you flinched for a second but melted into the touch.

"I remember his methods well. He took... Everything from me. Everything I had in that time. My family, my childhood," he scoffed out a laugh. "Hells, he took my life." You glanced to the rogue, seeing his lips curve down and his eyes softened.

"This may sound... Utterly ridiculous," you whispered, causing Astarion to turn to you. "But I'm... Appreciative that you turned me." His eyes widened as you turned away, facing the stream once more. "I had nothing going for me. Any coin found or made was spent on ale, I flirted my way into a getting a roof over my head for the night but was always gone before sunrise, no true friends or family to seek me out," you paused, inhaling deeply while feeling Astarion's stare burned holes into the side of your head. "So, when you approached me, I thought it was just another way to get a warm bed but... Who knew I would wake up as someone else, in a dirty cell no less."

"You... You appreciate becoming a monster? Something that must stalk around at night because the sun would threaten to turn you to dust? Feeding on the blood of things with thinking minds? Forced to become someone else's puppet?" Astarion spat, each word dripping with venom as you snapped your head to him. His brows pinched together and a snarl on his lips, his fangs on display from his clenched teeth.

"I had no life before becoming a monster, Astarion!"

"So, it was better to be the puppet of someone monstrous than to try and make something of yourself?!" He snapped, standing from the limb as you followed. You felt your cheeks burn hot from embarrassment. Licking at your own fangs, you sighed. "No. No, it wasn't better. You know how he was - how he is. Beating us, belittling us, feeding us rodents for meals and laughing as we fought like dogs; afraid when our next meal would be, burying us beneath the earth and waiting for us to pop out like fucking daisies in the spring! That life wasn't better, but I had a roof. And people I considered to be a family - as messy and challenging as it was - is." You spat, huffing with tears blurring your vision once more. Quickly wiping them away with your wrists, you sniffled. "It wasn't better. You're right about that, but I am still appreciative because even though I miss the sun, I miss seeing the worlds' color, hells I miss seeing myself... I miss a lot of things, but everything I gained helps make up for it," you finally turned to face him, seeing his eyes had darkened harshly, but he had a look of... Confusion.

You sat in silence, just staring at one another before he ripped his attention away and standing from the fallen limb. Watching as he stalked away towards the stream, his arms crossed at his chest, leaving you to observe quietly. Watching as he pulled his dagger from its' hidden sleeve, and jumping as he threw it off to the right, causing your brows to furrow. Sitting quietly, you watched as he followed where his knife had flown, only to see him reappear with a rabbits' lifeless body. He struck its neck with his fangs, drinking from the dark, brown-furred animal, watching as the blood dripped past his lips and dribbled from his chin... You felt your mouth begin to water. Snapping his eyes open, he cut his eyes towards you before breaking away and tossing you the animal, you could only blink as he stalked back towards you, settling back into his spot. "Either drink from it, or give it back," he sighed, licking at the bloodied blade as you swallowed thickly, quickly striking it with your own fangs. Your eyes fluttered closed as you drank from the rabbit, humming softly before dropping it into your lap, licking at the crimson that smeared across your lips. You jumped as Astarions' thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging the fat drop of blood that had dripped down before he brought to his own mouth, suckling it gently. Warmth flooded your cheeks from the action. He stood abruptly, sleeving the dagger once more before he moved around the branch that had become your bench.

"Get your strength up, we will be needing it when we face our old... Acquaintances." He threw over his shoulder as he went down the path towards his camp. Inhaling deeply, you turned back towards the stream, licking at your lips before glancing down to the rabbit in your hands. Drinking from things with a thinking mind. Is that why he killed it first? No. Vampires usually love the hunt and the warmth from the blood... So, why kill it? You frowned, standing from your seat and moving towards the tree Astarion had leant against earlier, tugging your sword from its' sleeve. Flipping it in your hand, you used the handle to dig a hole in the loosened soil, placing the rabbit inside, and covering it up gently. Patting the soil softly, you stood, moving towards Astarions' camp as the night slowly became lighter. The day was coming quickly, and you were somehow excited to take it on.

**********

You did it.

You really did it.

You watched as Astarion landed on his haunches, blood splattered and smeared across his body while Cazador gurgled and choked on his blood. Your hands trembled as you stumbled towards them, falling next to Astarion as he gasped out before looking up, allowing a gut-wrenching cry to burst through. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, lightening the blood from your face. Dropping your sword as you glanced around, seeing your brothers and sisters drop from the rituals binds. A soft scoff-like laugh escaped your lips as you turned back to Astarion, reaching over and grasping his shoulder causing him to whip his head towards you.

"We did it..." Your voice shook as you suddenly thrusted yourself into him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he stumbled, landing onto his backside with a small thump, his arm shaking before slowly wrapping around your back, holding you close. "We did it, star," you leaned back, your crimson eyes locking with his own, his pupils blown. You grew conscious of how your body rested against his, breathing in unison as your eyes grew wide. Star...? Star?! Why- Where did that name come from? You blinked, slowly falling from his lap and meeting the cold, stone floor, your palm slapping the thick puddle of blood as you lurched forward, your head feeling like it was being split by a pike.

Your body shook in pain as you clenched your eyes shut, gritting your teeth, feeling your fangs prick against your bottom lip. Astarion moved towards you, grabbing your shoulder and dragging your head back into his lap; his hand caressing your sticky cheek. "Relax, let it through, shhh," his voice became light years away as you shook against his grip.

Images flashed across your blackened vision; your hot skin pressed against his. Sweat clung to your bodies as you moved together, hair sticking against your forehead and nape. Astarion's mouth moved hungrily against yours, nipping at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. His hands slid across your body, squeezing and pinching at your skin, leaving irritated scratches across your skin. His mouth moved on from your lips, the tip of his tongue licking along your throat, his lips pressing hot kisses against it.

"Astarion," you moaned, tilting your head back, allowing him access to your throat. His inhale shook as he pressed tighter kisses to your throat, gently nibbling at your pulse, causing your body to jolt. "Patience, darling," he whispered huskily against your throat, pressing open-mouth kisses down your shoulder, nipping at your chest. "Only good little pets get what they want." You moaned openly; one hand tightened into his bright, white curls before tugging his lips back to your own. You bit his bottom lip, tugging it between your teeth. "Show me the stars, Astarion," you pressed another hungry kiss to his lips, smirking as he moaned into it. His mouth moved down your neck once more, hovering over your thundering pulse before he pierced it with his fangs. You've never moaned louder.

You withered against Astarion's lap, gasping as one of your hands shot out, wrapping tightly around his tattered and blood-covered tunic. Your scream pierced through the somewhat silent basement.

Your giggled echoed through the spawn dorms. Astarion cradled you close while playfully glaring. "You're going to get us into trouble," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you turned into him, cuddling closer. You couldn't hold back your smile. "Well, excuse me for being excited about you finally asking me to be yours," you smirked as he scoffed, rolling you both over to where he hovered over you, a small smile on his lips.

"Nyla was starting to think you were stringing me along," you chuckled as Astarion rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to your lips. You sighed into the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him closer to you. With your foreheads pressed tightly together, Astarion slowly pulled back, his soft breathing barely tickling your lips. You could see the twinkle in his bright, red eyes as they stared back into your own. "You look like you're thinking," you mumbled, smiling again. "That's quite dangerous for you." Astarion scoffed at you, rolling onto his back next to you, still keeping you tangled close. "Only you would consider my thinking dangerous," he snipped, pressing another kiss to your cheek. "I have many great ideas, like for instance, making you into a breath-taking," he pressed a kiss into your hair. "Talented." Another to your nose. "Skillful." Another kiss to your lips. "Dangerous spawn," his voice trailed off as his lips trailed down your neck, placing his last kiss against your vampiric scar. "Just like me." You turned your face towards him, smiling softly while staring at one another. The world around you seemed to blend together.

"I believe you are the promise of perfection in my eyes, my Star," you whispered, reaching up and caressing his cheek, brushing your thumb against the apple of his cheek. He blinked, mouth falling slightly agape as he broke into a small grin, turning towards your palm and pressing another kiss against your roughened skin. "We share a similar view, my Moon." He murmured against your skin, as you stared at one another, just loving each other's touch. "Promise me something, Astarion," you lowered your voice as he furrowed his brow, sitting up on his elbow as he leaned over you. "Promise me we'll get out here... Promise we'll find a way out of here, and a way to be just us." You stared up at him with hope glittering in your eyes. Lovestruck eyes. Astarion stared at you, his lips agape once more as he leaned down, pressed a soft, love-filled kiss to your lips. He knows... He knows you may never escape this. Your lips moved together, pressing hungrily into each other. But that doesn't mean he won't try.

Your eyes snapped open, seeing Astarion holding onto your cheeks, keeping your head still against his thighs as you looked around wildly. You could feel each individual swell of sweat as you curled your hands into your blood-soaked tunic. He hushed you gently, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

Astarion ran ahead of you, his grip on your wrist tight - tighter with each step. You stumbled over the steps as you both rushed through Cazador's palace. Your supposed brother and sister's running after you - shouts of how you were disgusting traitors following you through the hallways. Turning a sharp corner, you slammed into the wall with a loud shout as Astarion glanced back to you, gritting his teeth as he saw your family behind you.

He swore to find a way to protect you. Protect what you had. To find a way for both to escape the abuse and hardship that followed behind the Cazador home life. And he did, he had found a way out for you - for you both. The only problem is trying to reach it without dying.

Turning another corner, you stumbled into Astarion's back, gasping as you looked around. The ballroom door was shut. And locked. You blinked, your grip on Astarion's hand tightened ever slightly as you both turned, him stepping behind you as he looked around, fear and dread suddenly licking up the back of his neck. He had brought you - his darling, his moon - into the mouth of danger itself. A few controlled spawns surrounded you as the room grew thick with dread. Astarion drew his dagger with a glare, his jaw ticked with anger, teeth grit tightly together.

"Drop your weapon, Astarion, make this simple work before Master joins in the fun," the twisted and eerie voice of your sister, Teyona snickered. Your bottom lip trembled as you tightened your grip on Astarions' tunic. You bared your fangs as he kept his arm out, trying to keep your body behind him. "Just let us go, Tey! Please," your voice wobbled as she tilted her head, her eyes darkening. "I am begging you to let us go! Before Cazador comes! We used to plan our escapes while locked in our cells, dreamed of a knight coming to our rescue!" You felt hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your hands trembling in Astarion's grasp as his eyes darted around the room. "Astarion is my knight! He is my rescue that we've always begged for!"

"Why would I release you when Master has a bigger plan for you." Teyona hissed before rushing towards you both. Astarion slashed at her, but she dodged easily, snickering as she stood tall. "Get them!" A wave of your supposed family washed towards you, fangs and claws bared. Astarion slashed, stabbed and even bit at who was considered your kin. Drawing your sword from its sleeve, you slashed across the vampiric crowds, jumping when a pair of claws slashed across your arm, ripping your flesh as Astarion growled, jumping forward and stabbing his stained dagger into the enemies' chest. Baring his fangs as he twisted it before preparing another strike. Blood splattered and sprayed across the floor, more bodies crumbling and crashing into the marble flooring. The crimson decorating the floor smeared and colored your clothes. You went to turn towards Astarion, thinking him closer than he was, you met the face of Nyla, who you believed to be your true sister in your shared rebirth. She bared her fangs as you stared at her, your sword trembling in your hand as you felt bile rise up in your throat.

"Ny-Ny, please..." You whispered, biting the tip of your tongue as you took a step back, swallowing as she tsked, surging towards you. "No!" You tossed your sword away, tossing up both of your arms to block her blows. Her teeth sank into your forearm, her claws digging into your flesh as an inhuman scream breached your lips. Astarion whipped around at the sound, eyes wide and mouth agape as he struck down the last spawn beside him. "No!" He moved towards your struggle on the ground, only to skid to a stop as... As Sebastain appeared in front of him.

"Hello, Astarion, going somewhere?" The other spawn grinned, their usually shared red eyes, darkened as Astarion bared his fangs at his former consort. "Get out of my way, Sebastain, do not make me your enemy." His voice slightly shook. Sebastain tilted his head, his long, black hair sliding past his shoulder. Your screams and the left-over spawns seemed to melt into the background. "Why stay and fight, hmm? Your... Little Moon will only be the one to sign your away your last breath." He snickered, sauntering towards Astarion, whose dagger slowly lowered. "Don't you see?" He paused, standing beside Astarion with a sad smile. "They couldn't even kill the threat in front of them," his voice slithered into Astarion's ear, making his lip tremble as he glanced down at his dagger. He should stab him. He should've already killed Sebastain and been at your side, getting out of here, heading towards freedom... So, why were his feet still firmly planted in the thick puddle of blood?

"Run." Astarion snapped his head towards Sebastain as he appeared back in front of him, a sickening smile on his lips. "Run away while you still can, because if you drag that... Cargo alongside you? You'll be dead before you hit the streets."

"No. No, they're my lover! I wouldn't leave them even if it meant-"

"Dying? Are you really willing to pay your life for someone who couldn't even protect themselves? How can you trust they'll be there when you need them most...? How do you know they won't take that dagger," Sebastain paused, his fingertip pressing against the drying tip of his dagger, causing his eyes to follow it. "And stab it right into your back." Astarion jumped at the thought. You wouldn't. You were his moon, and he your star. You both had thought of a plan to escape and live out your long, long lives together... So, why did he feel his heart jump at the thought of freedom... Alone?

"Go. Go far, far away, while you still can, my Star," Sebastain cackled as the ballroom doors' swung open, causing you both to shoot your attention towards them. Your eyes met, locking onto one another, as you kicked and pushed against Nyla's body. Blood leaked and spluttered around her mouth as you sent a swift kick to her abdomen, knocking her off. "Astarion! Help me!" You pushed up onto your good arm, pressing your bleeding forearm against your chest. Astarion stared at you, his hand trembling as he blinked back tears. "Star...?" Your voice was barely audible as he sighed, rushing out the heavy metal doors, them slamming shut behind him. You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape and tears building along your waterline, quickly dripping down your cheeks. "Astarion..." His name became a whisper on your lips.

You jumped when Cazador's office door slammed open, the remaining spawn standing at ready as he slowly moved towards you. A sickening smile on his lips as he stood in front of you. "Well, well, look what the love-drunk spawn forgot," he leant down, capturing your throat in a tight grasp. You gagged and dug your nails of your good arm into his wrist, gritting your teeth. "His little love." His voice dripped with anger, before slowly rising with your toes barely brushing the marble floor. "Lock them in the cell. I'll have to think of some... Punishments for their naughty, naughty behavior." He turned, throwing your body towards the basement elevator. You slid across the hard floor, a howl escaping your throat as you grasped your thrumming side. The other, loyal spawn surrounded you as Cazador's control slowly slipped away as he moved back into his office. Nyla, Teyona, and Sebastain, the three other spawns they had bonded with, the only ones who made them believe that they were capable of having a loving family....

"Forgive us, please," Nyla whispered, helping Teyona pick you up as Sebastain stayed quiet, following as they all walked towards the elevator. Dread filled your bloody and aching body, you wanted to beg, plead, bargain even! Just kill you. Send you to Avernus if you must, just don't let him touch you... You would rather burn for all your lives, than be given to Cazador as a beating bag... Your mind drifted towards Astarion... The look on his face as he ran through the doors, not even looking back to you. No second glance, nor second thought. But he was free... Right? Your fellow spawn locked you into Cazador’s cells, quietly leaving as you sat, listening to the echoing drips, each one making your body jolt. Your tears silently continued while tugging your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You jumped at the elevator descending again, swallowing thickly at the bile that had worked its way up your throat. Boots echoed through the silent prison, only to stop in front of your cell. “Hello, worm… Now,” Cazador held a twisted and gnarled dagger, its blade almost seemed to wink at you in the dim candlelight. “How shall we begin?”

Cazador tortured you for days and nights. Each day led to something far worse than the last, he had carved jaggedly and twisted sigils into your flesh - breaking your flesh as your screams echoed through the prison. He constantly revisioned. Each memory surged into your mind, bullying its way into your soul while you seemed to relive each method. Cutting into your skin, thrown sick or rotting rats into your cell and forcing you to eat them to keep yourself from starvation, tempting you with blood of your siblings - forcing your jaw open and forcing you to drink from them - killing them. Their bodies cracked against the cold stone, your choked sobs bouncing around you as you fought back to swallow their hot blood. Cazador merely laughed, smirking at your distraught, shaking figure.

Images of his blood in your nails pushed forward. His deep scream as he clutched his forearm, his through his teeth. “Vile, imbecile of a child!” He screamed, grasping your throat with his good hand. “If you believed in any Gods before this,” he spat, curling his dagger-like nails into your flesh, a guttural scream erupting from you as you flailed, kicking and scratching at him. “You should begin begging for mercy in their powerless names!” He shouted, spit flying across your face as you screamed. Your hands moved first, scratching across his arm and shoulder, his smile never ceased. He buried you deep beneath the earth. Splinters cut and sank into your skin, dirt and congealed blood clotted your throat and face, your nails broken and peeled back as you broke through the brittle dirt. Gagging and coughing up that stuck to your dry throat, as you sucked in the crisp night air, only to shake as you glanced up, seeing his smirking face. “Hello… Worm.”

Every form and piece of torture, Cazador forced you to beg out in Astarion’s name. To call out to your cowardice lover, to curse his name and all that may become of him. You would scream out for him, begging for him to rescue you each time you were cut deeper, kicked or hit harder, starved longer… Buried deeper. But, each time, you slowly forget the sight of him. The smell of him. The name of him. The mere memory of him… Whoever ‘him’ used to be. All these memories flooded away, but you could still hear his gentle voice whisper in your ear when your punishments were on the severe side. His trembling voice begging for you to stay alive. To keep fighting. To find him.

You gasped, coughing and retching as Astarion released his tight grip, his eyes darting all over your face as you rolled onto your knees, coughing and gagging from the memories. You snapped your head towards Cazador's draining body, grabbing your sword from where it landed from rolling out of your grip. You slid through the thick blood, swinging it down against his body. Once. Twice. Three times, continuing to heave the piece of steel into his muscle and bones. Tears quickening as you slam the final blow into his deformed skull; a bone-chilling scream leaving your lips as Astarion crawled behind you, dragging you into his chest, holding you tightly.

"Shh, shh, my Moon, it's okay," he whispered into your hair, caressing you as you spun in his arms, wrapping them snug around his neck and smashing your lips against his own, mouths moving together. Teeth and tongues smashing together in a wrestle for dominance or desperation - who could tell. You gasped, leaning back, yet keeping your hands tightly wrapped in his hair.

"My Star, by the Gods I should drive a stake through your heart for leaving me here all those centuries ago, you... You Gnoll-haired toad!" You hissed, pressing more kisses to his skin as he sighed into it, digging his fingers into your clothes while tugging your bodies closer. "I regretted leaving you the moment I stepped foot outside," he whispered into your skin, heaving as you breathed him in. Not caring of your siblings seeing the love and tender touches. You waited centuries to hold your promised lover. Your star. "I should've grabbed you. I should've killed Nyla and brought you with me, held you closer..." His lip trembled as your thumb gently caressed it, staring into his glistening eyes. "Gods, I should've slaughtered everyone that day because I love you."

You sighed, pressing your mouths together once again. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces that had missed each other. Pressing another kiss to your cheeks and any free skin, he ripped the cloak from your body and pressed a deep kiss to your vampiric mark. His mark.

"As much as I should maul you," you sighed, your lips slowly breaking into a grin. "I love you more than the want to harm that pretty face." He rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to your lips as you sighed into him. You had each other now, losing the sun was worth finding each other, however... Now, you had a new problem; how're you supposed to get an illithid tadpole removed from your lost lover's brain?

*******

Well, I did ask if you guys wanted a long fic! I hope you enjoyed, and I do look forward to writing for you in the future! <3 ~ Jae

[snoutbleed]

Telling a story takes guts.

Forensic photographer Sören Heinrich can’t ignore the nausea bubbling in his throat when documenting someone's darkest day. He loses sleep over the fates he captures but is drawn to the purpose vested in his grisly role. When blood-slicked prints become Sören's next subject, he finds a message that blurs the line between his personal and professional life.

"This is where I’ve been. Don’t follow."

Unable to fathom his long-lost brother’s crimson handwriting, Sören descends into the criminal underworld for answers. The young boar's inner demons guide him toward a morbid self-reckoning.

Direktion 2 has their work cut out for them.

Crime is on the rise in post-reunification Berlin. Among the cases, the Polizeidirektorate in the city's westernmost boroughs is baffled by freak murders at the hands of denizens without motive.

In the shadow of the Berlin Wall, the crime wave takes a supernatural twist behind the lock of a post-Soviet puzzle.

Camera flashes at the crime scenes reveal gruesome secrets stirring in the shadows.

Unravel the conspiracy in #LONG STORY SHORT.

#The Filing Cabinet -- scan the profiles of those in the know. #Bloodstained Polaroids -- view the images of lives gone astray. #Evidence Board -- learn the details of secrets best kept. #Mystery Signals -- behold the lore of the mind melt. Face the music in the official Long Story Short playlist!

Everyone gathers toward the Abschnitt.

There are several Polizei Berlin stations like the Abschnitt, but everyone tied to this supernatural symphony ends up near this Spandau station particularly.

Sören Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The black sheep of the Abschnitt. Sören’s abrasive nature keeps his co-workers at bay, a division widened by their western ideals clashing with his East German upbringing. He distances himself from the station through tight focus on his job, always the first to arrive at a crime scene. Don Jae Hale -- ( elk | tag | bio ) The silver-tongued Kriminalhauptkommissar of the Abschnitt. Hale is quick to dismiss the killings up until his leadership comes under siege by the paranoid public. Umeya Romanova -- ( fox | tag | bio ) The Bundeskriminalamt detective sent to assist with the Abschnitt’s mounting cases. Rumor says Umeya is there for more than the mystery, but her motives veiled by a callous attitude. Marieke Reiss -- ( rabbit | tag | bio ) The star psychology student barely escaped a killing. Now a key witness, Marieke can’t rest easy knowing she could be the next victim, driving her to take matters into her own hands. Reinhardt Müller -- ( donkey | tag | bio ) The Abschnitt’s disgraced ace detective, worn down and living in the grimy corners of Berlin. When crime spikes, Reinhardt tries to relive his “glory days" of detective work. Ukko Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The crime lord defends his territory with brutal but firm methods. He's sworn to his found family, the country's political rift making him protective to a fault. Vorwitz Albrecht -- ( bat | tag | bio ) A gardener with good banners but bad morals. Vorwitz's unsavory career choices put him in the Abschnitt, but he finds a way out with Sören.

Entropy knows no bounds.

Stop, look and listen: stories are everywhere. Behold my settings.

Face more madness in #TALES GONE STALE.

LAID TO WASTE -- an abomination stirs in the bayou, its secrets poisoning a township. THE WASTED LIVES -- a group of galactic fugitives embark on a never-ending getaway on a runaway cruiser. (Links need an update. Stay tuned.)

The mind behind the melancholy.

ACHTUNG! This blog is 18+ for gore and suggestive content!

You can call me Dissy (she/her). I'm a writer with stories and ideas always bouncing inside my head, especially this one. Feel free to ask me about myself, my writing, my characters, or anything else. I promise you I can bark up a tree for hours.

I also do Polaroid photography: check out @hogrot for my shots!

I also encourage comments, critique, etc. about this setting. I want to pace myself while writing this, therefore I have all the time I need to refine this where I can. I don't expect this story to come out for a while anyway, especially as I run it through critiques. Hell, this pet project wouldn't have come into fruition thanks to the feedback of some incredible friends.

Shoutout to PYRY for doing character design and art for this setting, as well as giving his ideas and characters for the Heinrich plotline. Go check out his killer art. This story wouldn't exist without him.

Another shoutout to @tsanapi, an incredible artist who drew the art pictured above. Her sense of style is so keen.

And a final thanks to you, the reader, for tuning into the mind melt. This signals wouldn't have picked up without you.

[thekinkyleopard]

A Rough Night

A Sven & Elex Snz Drabble

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Allergens, Snz, Violence, Cursing

Description: The boys try to escape the stress by heading out to the bar. Yet, it doesn’t go well when a nearby patron triggers the badger’s sensitive allergies!

Author’s Notes: Oh….Hey guys 😅 I’ve had this one sitting for about a month and haven’t had the will to write because well….my life has been insane while going through this divorce, moving, meeting someone new and trying to figure my shit out. 😭 Found myself with the slight will to live tonight, so I finished this idea up! Theres no smut, I KNOW IM SORRY….but I had a lot of fun writing this out. Hope you all enjoy and I’m sorry I’m constantly coming and going. Been a rough year. I love yall who still interact and wait patiently for my next release. You real ones 🥺💚 @aller-geez Owns Sven and did the cover art!

Elex and Sven pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the sounds of raucous laughter and clinking glasses assaulted their ears. The dimly lit bar was filled with a thick haze of smoke, making it difficult to see through the throngs of people milling about. Elex, with his dull green hair, felt like an alien in this dingy establishment. He wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming stench of stale beer and sweat that hung heavily in the air. "Ugh, this place fuckin’ stinks," he grumbled, his mismatched eyes scanning the crowd, disgusted at the faces that lingered upon them. His annoyance at having to be there was palpable while they stood just inside the entrance.

“Don’t be such a sour puss, Els, I need this night out, and I need a couple drinks to unwind, we’ve been cooped up in the house for WEEKS,” the Cheshire pouted, sticking his tongue out playfully at his somewhat grumpy boyfriend. In response, Elex rolled his eyes in a mixture of annoyance and resignation.

“We’re here aren’t we? Stop your bitchin’ lets go get drunk,” reaching out to grip his boyfriend by the wrist, knowing the hand would be too intimate in such a public setting. Sven was used to this behavior by now and didn’t care, so long as he got to do what they came there to do. Get ripped, yap, maybe snack on some peanuts, and go back home. An adult version of touching some grass. They each walked up to the bar and slid into the empty barstools provided, next to an older gentleman on one side, and a younger on the other. Elex scowled unpleasantly from a side view glance as he slipped into his seat. “Whiskey on the rocks,” the badger ordered off his drink of choice for the night. “Same thing,” Sven chirped with a quick raise of his index before swinging his body slightly over to face more in the other’s direction. “So, tomorrow, I’m thinking about upgrading our internet services, shit is too fuckin’ slow to achieve the game play and stream from what we have currently…it’s fuckin’ up my views,” he pushed back a few strands of stray teal hair that dangled just above his orange gaze. As the bartender slid them their drinks, Elex nodded toward the man before returning his attention to 7. “Yeah okay, well how much extra is that gonna run us do you know? We have some wiggle room but not if the bill goes from $50 to $200….I don’t know….” feeling rather skeptical of all the ways Sven’s streaming has sort of cost them between his personal build, games, internet, and other equipment. He was glad his boyfriend had something he enjoyed doing, and was even able to make a good profit off it, but it felt like everyday he was buying some high tech keyboard, or upping their bills which made it feel like they weren’t really progressing financially. It was starting to stress the badger out, he hadn’t been getting any marks lately since the police were on high alert. Some seasons were just better than others so he had been relying on selling copper, but he was running low on spots to harvest from. It was a miracle they were even making ends meet.

Sven lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his alcoholic beverage. His body language exuded nonchalance, as if their conversation was about something insignificant and unimportant, he shrugged. Elex could see the indifference in Sven's eyes and it only fueled his own anger. He could feel the heat rising in his chest as he tried to keep his emotions in check. The clinking of ice cubes echoed in the background, a stark contrast to the tension between the two men. “Just a shrug? Seriously? Sven you know we’ve been relying on MY shit to keep us afloat, your fuckin’ video games aren’t paying bills,” his voice cut through like a sharp knife through the chest. “They’re not? Then how did we get $200 worth of groceries yesterday?” With an intense narrowing of his vibrant orange eyes, he directed a heated glare towards his boyfriend. The thoughtless disregard for his feelings left him stunned and incredulous. He internally scoffed, his ‘fucking video games’….as if streaming wasn’t a real line of work. “You’re about to really piss me off….Yes that is useful but our MORTGAGE, and the PG&E, and you know, CAR payments….shit is adding up and every fuckin’ week there’s something new added to the list of your god damn bullshit…I support you wanting to chase a passion but not when it’s effecting the life we have worked so hard to build,” Elex quickly downed the remainder of his drink, wishing for a slight buzz to ease the hopelessness he felt in this conversation.

“Look, I get it, but it fuckin’ takes money to make it so, MAYBE, get off my ass a little bit…can we talk about this later? When we ARENT trying to just enjoy the evening?” With an exasperated shake of his head and a dismissive roll of his eyes, Sven reached out for his glass, the ice cubes clinking against the sides as he lifted it to his lips. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Els knocked on the wooden bar with his knuckles, signaling to the busy bartender for another drink. The sound of glasses clinking and people talking filled the air of the crowded bar, but Elex was lost in his own thoughts as he waited for his order to be fulfilled. Finally, the bartender caught his signal and obliged, sliding a fresh glass towards him with practiced ease.

“Fine but you’re not go-…n..H’…Hih…” he struggled suddenly, noticeably, his mouth started to jar open and it hit him unexpectedly. The older man next to him, had taken off his jacket, wafting a gust of fragrant air directly within Elex’s personal space. “Son of a -…H’UhtTSCHhiew! h’Ushh’iew! etUSCHOOOO!” a sudden series of sneezes escaped his body, his eyes watering, nose and throat suddenly itchier than they’d been in a long time. Was that Gain? Tide pods? He didn’t know, all he knew was the asshole beside him was sending him into a full tizzy. He sniffled gently trying to hide the fact he was slowly turning into a leaking mess, grabbing a bar napkin to wipe his nose carefully. “Shit, you good Els?” Sven reached out to comfort his boyfriend, a flattened palm against his back. The heated urgency of their conversation suddenly melting away when he realized the storm had hit his lover. “Y-Yeah I’m F-…hh’IEXsHHH! H’UMFShhhhiew! h’USSHH!!” it came out full force, he did what he could to capture them within the confines of the napkin he clutched within his palm. Just great, just what he needed on a night out to relax, typical. “Bless you, El…” Sven getting slightly worried they may actually have to just head back home, maybe pick up some drinks from the gas station instead, despite how badly Sven needed a change of pace. “We can head home if you wa-….” “No, we’re nod leabing….SndFff,” he snuffled loudly, trying to snort up any of the excessive leakage that threatened to pour down his face. This was the absolute worst. Curse him and his rat ass allergies. He hucked and hacked, his mouth jarring open and closed as he fought against the allergens making a nest within his sinuses. The bartender slid them their second drinks, taking longer as the bar filled up with more and more patrons. A few people turning to glance with an aura of judgement, but the badger glared daggers and they quickly turned away. “Nosey fuckin-….Hh’uhSSCCHHHHwww! ehh’TSHIEW! hh’IEXSH!!” this time the green haired man blew within the crook of his arm, wetting the spot of skin there with a plume of saliva. “Gross….” he groaned weakly, irritated he didn’t have a whole lot of room to release. “Babe seriously we can just….” suddenly cut off by a lifted brown speckled palm. “Stop, jusd dring your fuggin shid, SNDfF,” He let out a loud, wet snort and reached for the small package of tissues inside the pocket of his jeans. His nose was red and moist from the constant blows as he battled with the scent that still lingered around him. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his congested sinuses but only felt the sharp sting of pain in his nostrils.

“Hey, guy, can you fuckin’ not? You’re grossing us all out,” A random person from across the way chimed in with a snarky remark. The badger slowly turned his head, almost like something out of a horror movie, and locked eyes with the person before responding without hesitation.

“Cope, fugg fade,” retorting so quickly it took the man almost by surprise, blinking a few times to make sure he had heard the badger correctly. “What was that, bro?” he challenged, finishing his beer and slamming the empty glass bottle down on the wooden bar. Elex scoffed, sniffling a bit to try and prepare himself for another response. “Cope. Fugg. Fade.” he said it slowly, emphasizing each word though sounding less intimidating with a stuffed up nose. It didn’t stop him as he stared the patron down with watery daggers. The whites of his eyes had already started to redden.

The tension in the bar thickened as the confrontation escalated. Elex could feel a wave of exhaustion wash over him, fatigue setting into his bones from both the argument with Sven and the relentless assault on his senses brought on by his sudden allergies. He longed for nothing more than to escape this suffocating atmosphere, to retreat to the familiarity of his own space where he could gather his thoughts in peace.

Sven, sensing the volatile energy crackling around them, placed a steadying hand on Elex's shoulder. Despite their disagreement, he knew that Elex needed support now more than ever. “Let’s get out of here,” Sven spoke softly, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the bar.

With a swift motion, the badger slid his shoulder out from under the cat’s palm, Sven’s arm falling back down to his side. ‘Shit…’ The Cheshire cursed from within. The bomb had been set off and it was only a matter of time before his boyfriend started swinging.

“Oh, so we’re going to have a problem then?” the man stood up straighter, walking over and standing within a few inches of the green haired ticking time bomb. Elex snickered with a cocky resolve, standing up himself and meeting the other man eye to eye.

“Loogs, do me, you’re the only one with the problem here, fugg nugged,” his lips pulled up to reveal a strikingly white pair of sharpened teeth that complemented the long fangs that always stuck out past his lips. “Wanna dance?” it actually felt relieving to take a stand at this point, giving him a bit of, slightly fresher air to escape the scent of the old man’s detergent that lingered on his clothing.

In that charged moment, the bar seemed to hold its breath, everyone's attention drawn to the brewing confrontation between Elex and the stranger. The man's eyes flashed with anger as he clenched his fists, ready to take things to the next level. However, just before anyone could throw a hit, the badger’s sinuses betrayed him into another set of expressive blows. “Ehh’tshhhhiew!!" h’USHh’iEW!” without time to cover himself, the badger openly, and almost proudly, sneezed a cloud of spittle and spray across the other man’s face.

“What the FUCK!?” the guy exclaimed with rage, getting ready to charge up his fist and bring it across the space to Elex’s jaw, but missed as the badger took a quick side step to avoid him. All the while blotting, and dabbing at his insanely runny nose that threatened to drip down his lips and chin. Elex chuckled, wiping his face clean with the last tissue in his package.

“Oh goody, my turn,” he smirked as he tossed the crumpled tissue aside and lunged forward with surprising agility, socking the man square in the nose a loud crack echoing the space between them all. The bar erupted into chaos as the two men grappled, fists flying and bodies colliding in a whirlwind of aggression. Sven watched in shock, torn between wanting to intervene and knowing that Elex needed to work through his frustrations on his own terms.

Amidst the chaos, a burly bouncer seemed to materialize, his massive form cutting through the crowd like a battleship in a stormy sea. With a swift motion, he hoisted both Elex and the stranger apart, their struggles becoming feeble against the bouncer's iron grip.

"Alright, that's enough out of both of you!" the bouncer boomed, his voice commanding attention from every corner of the bar. Elex panted, his chest heaving as he shot a defiant glare at the man who had provoked him.

Sven rushed forward, placing himself between Elex and the stranger. "Sven...get the fuck out of the way," the man growled, his voice thick with anger as he tried to maneuver around Sven to get to the bleeding patron. But the bouncer held him back with a firm grip, his massive arms like steel beams that refused to budge.

"Elex, enough!" Sven's voice was urgent, pleading as he turned to the badger. "Let's go. Now." having to be the only voice of reason to which the heated badger would obey. Sliding two twenties onto the bar before working to rush his heated lover out of the bar.

Elex stood there, breathing heavily as he eyed the stranger who was still struggling against the bouncer's hold. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to make another move, but then he relented with a frustrated huff.

"Fine," Elex finally replied, brushing past Sven and making his way towards the exit of the bar. Sven followed closely behind, shooting a quick apologetic glance at the stranger before hurrying after his boyfriend.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Elex took a deep breath and leaned against the brick wall of the establishment, the icy night air hitting his weakened lungs he started to realize just how bad of shape he was in from the allergy attack, now that the adrenaline was wavering. He gasped as he worked to regulate himself.

Sven stood beside him, his gaze filled with concern as he watched Elex's labored breathing. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small inhaler, offering it to the badger.

"Here, use this," Sven spoke softly, his voice laced with worry. Elex hesitated for a moment before taking the inhaler and pressing it to his lips, inhaling deeply as the soothing medication traveled through his lungs. The tightness in his chest began to ease, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Thanks," Elex murmured, handing the inhaler back to Sven. The cat nodded, tucking it back into his pocket before turning his attention back to the badger.

"Are you okay?" Sven asked, his eyes searching Elex's for any sign of distress. The green haired man gave him a small nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, I'm okay…feel actually a whole lot better now that I’m not suffocating under the scent of that guy’s clothes…snDfff…” he sniffled roughly, trying to break through the stuffed bridge of his nose. Despite the scuffle, the badger barely walked out with a scratch, but the same couldn’t be said for the other man.

“What am I going to do with you? Seriously, you’re lucky if he doesn’t charge you with assault! Dumbass!” scolding his boyfriend for the way he had unleashed his pent up rage upon the stranger.

“Hey, he swung first,” shrugging his shoulders before pulling a pack of cigarettes out from his pocket. Sven sighed in exasperation, watching as Elex flicked a cigarette out of the pack and lit it up with a practiced hand. He knew it was pointless to argue with the stubborn badger when he was in this mood, so he simply stood there in silence, the cool night air weaving around them like a comforting blanket.

As Elex took a drag from his cigarette, he exhaled a cloud of smoke that mingled with the night, disappearing into the darkness above. The tension that had gripped him earlier seemed to dissipate with each puff, the adrenaline from the fight slowly ebbing away.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Sven finally spoke. "We should probably get out of here before the bouncer comes out and starts asking for names," he suggested, his voice calm but firm. Elex glanced over at him, taking in the concern etched on his features.

"Yeah, you're right," Elex replied, crushing the stub of his cigarette under his boot. With a final release of smoke from between his lips he lazily slung an arm around the cat’s waist. Unusual for the badger to display such affections, the cat narrowed his eyebrows and looked his lover up and down.

“You good?” The Cheshire asked cautiously, but leaning into the intimacy.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Elex responded with a soft smile, his usual tough exterior cracking to reveal a vulnerable side that only Sven seemed to elicit. The cat returned the smile, his worries easing as he felt the warmth of Elex’s touch against his side.

Together, they walked into the night, the street lamps casting a soft glow over their figures as they navigated the emptying streets. The events of the evening lingered in the air between them, but there was also an unspoken understanding that they would face whatever came their way together. Even if it meant being broke for a while to make sure Sven could set up his dream. Suddenly, those problems seemed less worrying after Elex was able to let off some steam.

As they turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows of the night, a sense of calm settled over them. In that moment, all that mattered was each other, their bond unbreakable in the face of any asshole that tried to ruin their good night. There was still time to turn things around.

And so, with the badger’s arm secured around his taller counterpart, Elex and Sven ventured into the unknown night, ready to face the rest of their evening in the comfort of their own home, albeit, with a quick stop at the liquor store for snacks and whiskey.

The End

Author’s Notes: I know I know, it’s short and sexless, but wasn’t that fun? 😍 I love angry Elex, being mean and beating people up while suffering from allergies. 🤧 I enjoyed it, I hope you did too!