#vicious mongrel

[vicious-mongrel]

Do not tag as fanart or your oc.

Elise and Lenz used to hang out together and get in trouble together when they were young.

More on my boosty.

[thatcerealkiller]

The Winner

art by @vicious-mongrel featuring a snacking Astarion & my bleeding but victorious Tav 🔥

[blackjackkent]

Down the parsed dialogue rabbit hole again, this time looking at Ethel's Vicious Mockery lines for all the characters, and goddamn, they are brutal.

ASTARION You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone. Deep down, you like being leashed, don't you? Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?

GALE I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin. Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle. Who would be jealous of you, apprentice?

KARLACH Let's pull your strings, infernal puppet. Happy to sell everyone's soul but your own, aren't you? When I'm done, even the Hells won't want you.

LAE'ZEL Your people will never take you back - illithid scum. Do you miss kissing Vlaakith's feet, gith? A toad with a tadpole! How fitting.

MINSC How quaint! The hamster has a pet. Only evil here is what's inside you, ranger. Go rub your rat, soft-skull.

SHADOWHEART You're so far up Shar's cake you can't see straight. Pathetic. Why would Shar love you when no one else does? You're no complex puzzle. Just a sad little girl.

WYLL Do you think losing that eye made you a hero? Oh, look! It's daddy's regret. Fraud of the Frontiers!

DRAGONBORN Aww, where's your clan? Bet they'd exile you for that brainworm in a blink. Bet that honour of yours shatters easy as your scales. You foul-breathed little lizard!

DWARF No flabby dwarf's a threat to me. More beard than brains, the lot of you. Bet you'd trade your friends for a trinket or two, gold-eater!

DWARF (DUERGAR) Bow your head, slave. You remember how, don't you? Grey and useless as a stone comb. I'll squeeze that stone heart until it bleeds, dwarf. Need a new master, illithid lover?

ELF Fancy yourself immortal? We'll see how long that lasts. I'll show you what a true fey does, dearie. Elves are so pretty. Pretty worthless!

ELF (DROW - FEMALE) Filthy underscum! Just another of Lolth's pretty harlots. Slaver. Sadist. How dare you judge me?

ELF (DROW - MALE) Bare your throat, spider-bait. Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to. Bow to your betters, boy.

GNOME Disgusting burrow rat. Bet your clan's happy you're gone! Try laughing after I rip your throat out, gnome.

HALF-ELF I wonder which parent regrets you more, half-breed. How revolting. Another thin-blooded mongrel. Half-elf. Half-human. All useless.

HALF-ELF (DROW) Even the Underdark doesn't want you, half-breed. A half-drow? How grotesque. Surprised you show yourself in public, abomination.

HALF-ORC Come now, tusks-for-brains! Doesn't this make you angry? All that bloodlust. A little tap, and I bet you won't know friend from foe! Lumbering half-orc. Twice as ugly as your parents combined!

HALFLING Come closer, little softie. You'll be tender. A tiny, sweet morsel. Just for me.

HUMAN Another human rat infesting Faerûn. A human! So desperate to be special. Pity. That tadpole actually made you interesting.

TIEFLING I'll burn you alive and everyone will celebrate. You're everyone's punching bag and no one's favourite. I see the Hells spit out another tragic little tiefling.

[mariacallous]

This is a gift article

In the final week of this election season, the Republican Party is running two different campaigns. One of them is an ugly and angry but conventional political enterprise. Donald Trump and other Republicans make speeches; party operatives seek to get out the vote; money is spent in swing states; television and radio advertisements proliferate. The people running that campaign are focused on winning the election.

Last night, in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, we caught a glimpse of the other campaign. This is the campaign that is psychologically preparing Americans for an assault on the electoral system, a second January 6, if Trump doesn’t win—or else an assault on the political system and the rule of law if he does. Listen carefully to the words of Tucker Carlson, the pundit fired from Fox News partly for his role in lying about the 2020 election. Warming up the crowd for Trump, he mocked the very idea that Kamala Harris could win: “It’s going to be pretty hard to look at us and say, ‘You know what? Kamala Harris, she got 85 million votes because she’s so impressive as the first Samoan Malaysian, low-I.Q., former California prosecutor ever to be elected president.”

“Samoan Malaysian” was Carlson’s way of mocking Harris’s mixed-race background, and “low-IQ” is self-explanatory—but “85 million” is a number of votes she could in fact win. And how, Carlson suggested, could there be such a “groundswell of popular support” for a person he demeaned as a mongrel, an incompetent, an idiot? The answer was clear: There can’t be, and if anyone says it happened, then we will contest it.

All of this is part of the game: the Trump campaign’s loud confidence, despite dead-even polls; its decision, in the final days, to take the candidate outside the swing states to New York, New Mexico, and Virginia, because we’ve got this in the bag (and not, say, because filling arenas in Pennsylvania is getting harder); the hyping of Republican-early-voter numbers, even though no evidence indicates that these are new voters, just people who are no longer being discouraged from voting early. Also the multiple attempts, across the country, to remove large numbers of people from the rolls; the many claims, with no justification, that ���illegal immigrants” are voting or even, as Trump implied during the September debate, that illegal immigrants are being deliberately imported into the country in order to vote; Vance’s declaration that he will accept the election results as long as “only legal American citizens” vote.

At Madison Square Garden, Trump doubled down on that rhetoric. He repeated past claims about the “invasion” of immigrants; about “Venezuelan gangs” occupying American cities, even Times Square; and he offered an instant solution: “On day one, I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get these criminals out. I will rescue every city and town that has been invaded and conquered, and we will put these vicious and bloodthirsty criminals in jail.” But he left open the question of who exactly all these “criminals” might be, because he seemed to be talking about not just immigrants but also his political opponents, “the enemy within.” The United States, he said, “is now an occupied country, but it will soon be an occupied country no longer … November 5, 2024, nine days from now, will be Liberation Day in America.”

The insults we heard from many speakers at Madison Square Garden, including the description of Puerto Rico as “garbage” or of Harris as “the anti-Christ” or of Hillary Clinton as a “sick son of a bitch”—insults that can also be heard in a thousand podcast episodes featuring Carlson, Elon Musk, J. D. Vance, and their ilk—are part of the same effort. Trump’s electorate is being primed to equate his political opposition with infection, pollution, and demonic power, and to accept violence and chaos as a legitimate, necessary response to these primal, lethal threats.

As I wrote earlier this month, this kind of language, imported from the 1930s, has never before been part of mainstream American presidential politics, because no other political candidate in modern history has used an election to undermine the legal basis of the American political system. But if we are an occupied country, then Joe Biden is not the legitimately elected president of the United States. If we are an occupied country, then the American government is not a set of institutions established over centuries by Congress, but rather a sinister cabal that must be dismantled at any price. If we are an occupied country, then of course the Trump administration can break the law, commit acts of violence, or even trash the Constitution in order to “liberate” Americans, either after Trump has lost the election or after he has won it.

This kind of language is not being used accidentally or incidentally. It is not a joke, even when used by professional comedians. These insults are central to Trump’s message, which is why they were featured at a venue he reveres. They are also classic authoritarian tactics that have worked before, not only in the 1930s but also in places such as modern Venezuela and modern Russia, countries where the public was also prepared over many years to accept lawlessness and violence from the state. The same tactics are working in the United States right now. Election workers, whose job is to carry out the will of the voters, are already the subject of violent threats and harassment. At least two ballot boxes have been attacked.

The natural human instinct is to dismiss, ignore, or downplay these kinds of threats. But that’s the point: You are meant to accept this language and behavior, to consider this kind of rhetoric “baked in” to any Trump campaign. You are supposed to just get used to the idea that Trump wishes he had “Hitler’s generals” or that he uses the Stalinist phrase “enemies of the people” to describe his opponents. Because once you think that’s normal, then you’ll accept the next step. Even when that next step is an assault on democracy and the rule of law.

[sexyapostate]

Auntie Ethel's Race-Specific Vicious Mockeries

Because of this post by rpgchoices, I figured I'd compile all the other Vicious Mockery lines Auntiel Ethel can hit the player with. These don't include the origin companion specific ones. You can find those in the linked post.

DROW ELF

Filthy underscum!

Just another of Lolth's pretty harlots.

Slaver. Sadist. How dare you judge me?

DROW ELF (MALE)

Bare your throat, spider-bait.

Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to.

Bow to your betters, boy.

HALF-ELF DROW

Even the Underdark doesn't want you, half-breed.

Surprised you show yourself in public, abomination.

A half-drow? How grotesque.

DWARF

More beard than brains, the lot of you.

Bet you'd trade your friends for a trinket or two, gold-eater!

I'll squeeze that stone heart until it bleeds, dwarf.

DUERGAR DWARF

Bow your head, slave. You remember how, don't you?

Grey and useless as a stone comb.

Need a new master, illithid lover?

DRAGONBORN

Aww, where's your clan? Bet they'd exile you for that brainworm in a blink.

Bet that honour of yours shatters easy as your scales.

You foul-breathed little lizard!

GNOME

Disgusting burrow rat.

Bet your clan's happy you're gone!

Try laughing after I rip your throat out, gnome.

ELF 

Fancy yourself immortal? We'll see how long that lasts.

I'll show you what a true fey does, dearie.

Elves are so pretty. Pretty worthless!

HALF-ELF

I wonder which parent regrets you more, half-breed.

How revolting. Another thin-blooded mongrel. Half-elf. Half-human. All useless.

HUMAN

Another human rat infesting Faerûn.

A human! So desperate to be special.

Pity. That tadpole actually made you interesting.

HALFLING

No flabby dwarf's a threat to me.

Come closer, little softie. You'll be tender.

A tiny, sweet morsel. Just for me.

HALF-ORC

Come now, tusks-for-brains! Doesn't this make you angry?

All that bloodlust. A little tap, and I bet you won't know friend from foe!

Lumbering half-orc. Twice as ugly as your parents combined!

TIEFLING

I'll burn you alive and everyone will celebrate.

You're everyone's punching bag and no one's favourite.

I see the Hells spit out another tragic little tiefling.

These were included in the dialogue document and the races listed are exactly what's in the dialogue's trigger flags.

PLANAR (githyanki, warforged)

What kind of botched portal brought something like you here?

Are you lost, little one? Maybe your soul will make it back home.

I'll banish you for good, outsider!

RARE (aasimar, dragonborn, firbolg, genasi, githyanki, half-drow, half-orc, tiefling, triton, warforged, yuan-ti pureblood)

I'm one step closer to wiping your kind off Faerûn for good!

Freakish thing. I bet everyone stares when you walk by.

Not a lot like you. You'll be my prettiest trophy.

BEASTIAL (aarakocra, kenku, lizardfolk, tabaxi, tortle)

Think you're a person because you're walking on two feet? Adorable.

Can't wait to throw a collar on your neck and make you my familiar.

I'll tan your hide, beast!

BONUS: MINSC? FOR SOME REASON? I don't know why there seem to be unlabeled Minsc-specific Vicious Mockeries. Maybe Ethel played BG1/2 and just really hates him.

How quaint! The hamster has a pet.

Only evil here is what's inside you, ranger.

Go rub your rat, soft-skull.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Protector

(short little protective!Daryl x gn!reader)

warnings - violence, profanity, TWD stuff, reader might sound a little insane

masterlist

From the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew. It was like some primal sense snapped into play, creating new rules and restrictions on this game called life.

Nothing was going to happen to you. Nothing.

It was the most raw show of love he could muster. He was a survivor, bred and grown to stand tall no matter what, and the day he met you, he decided you’d stand by his side. You’d live to fight every battle, celebrate every triumph, and see every dawn alongside him. He could not accept any other outcome, any other fate, any other end to his story.

In a sick and twisted way, it was the most romantic and chivalrous display of affection you’d ever been gifted. You thought about it often, when he was away, all those moments he showed you just how much he really cared. Regardless of his distant expressions or lack of communication, those memories were always there to remind you, cradling your soul in the warm embrace of his violence and brute strength.

Your favorite mental images to paint were the fine details of his enraged snarls and the way his sweat beaded above his brow so delicately, seemingly never disturbed, even as he executed vicious attacks on your behalf.

You often found a faint, soft smile curling at the corners of your lips when you pictured the rage in his eyes when anyone dared to disrespect you, let alone hurt you, like when the prison fell, and Beth disappeared, and he found himself wandering in the company of the Claimers, a particularly nasty group of mongrels.

To his relief and yours, he and those assholes stumbled across you in an old train station, hungry and tired. His relief was short lived when he realized exactly what the Claimers wanted from you, and how little they’d care that you were his. Yes, his, even if you didn’t know it at the time. How could you? He avoided you like the plague because he couldn’t cope with the whirlwind of emotions you brought out of him.

Still, he tried to keep quiet, tried to play it off like you were nothing but a stranger in a train station, praying to whoever would listen that you’d play along. That spark of a plan was quickly snuffed when he heard Joe utter that wretched word; “Claimed.”

In all truthfulness, you couldn’t even remember the full chain of events of that night. You remembered his face when he saw you, when the Claimers crowded around you, snickering at the mere sight of a fawn in a wolf den.

It was a blur of thrown fists, cracked bones, strangled cries of agony. Trivial details, you didn’t care to recall them.

No, what you relished in was the rush of hope that washed over you when the man who tried to claim you was pinned against the cold, damp cement floor with Daryl’s fist gripping his collar to hold him in place as the other crashed down into his face. Bodies littered the small train station. Even in a group they were no match for Daryl’s blind fury.

After a few bone-shattering blows, Daryl had leaned in so close to the man gurgling on his own blood, and with a deathly low growl, he told him, “I claimed ‘em first, asshole.”

Recommended reads:

Need by @star-wrote

Hazelnut by @dixons-sunshine

Strong Broken Things by @enlightndone

Feeling spooky? Check out my Daryl Dixon Halloween Challenge!

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfsalltheway @negansbestie @mfnqueen1 @raynelbabe

[kirain]

So apparently we were supposed to get a hafling werewolf bard companion named Helia, but Larian axed her early in development. She would've been the only small race companion in the game, which I personally felt it was lacking. The closest we had was Barcus, but unfortunately he wasn't a full companion nor was he romancable. Plus, bards are hilarious. I imagine her dialogue would've been incredible.

We were robbed...

Though I don't want to be ungrateful. Larian did a lot and honestly spoiled us. I just really would've loved to have a hafling werewolf bard on the team. She sounds so interesting. So I made her myself. 😁

She and Karlach would be the best of friends. They'd get drunk every weekend, shoot the shit, sing campfire songs, and dare each other to do dangerously stupid challenges. They'd have a lot of fun and cause all sorts of trouble, as they should.

She'd be sarcastic and sassy like Astarion, but they probably wouldn't get along very well, since she's a halfing and a werewolf. He'd call her "mongrel", while she'd call him "tick". If he tried to bite her, she'd bite him back. The mockery would be vicious, but deep down they'd understand each other's struggles. Real enemies to friends potential.

Lae'zel she'd annoy—by constantly trying to make her laugh and calling her "sour puss". She'd also have no problem calling her out when her loyalty to Vlaakith clouds her judgement. Though she'd also admire her drive and resilience. Lae'zel would, in turn, teach her a few battle techniques, and eventually come to see the value in humour.

Gale she'd butt heads with, only because she's foul and he's so proper, but they'd both give as good as they get, knowing it's all harmless banter. After a whille, they'd learn to appreciate each other's company, and she'd even use some of his stories as inspiration for song lyrics.

As for Shadowheart, they'd get on surprisingly well, bonding over their pain and hatred for Selûne. That bond would only grow as they learn Selûne is actually worth worshipping, with Shadowheart becoming the goddess' devoted cleric and Helia becoming a proud member of her lycanthrope followers. Together, they'd give Shar a metaphorical and literal finger.

[thechaoticdruid]

This Bites (5)

Astarion x Chubby! F! MC

Plot: Astarion gets Winnie out a tight spot with a new power of his! Our two lovers continue to bond and get closer as Winnie searches for the cause of her vampire's appearance in the modern world. They also go shopping! YAY!

Content/Warning: Dog attack, Sexual humor and suggestive content, tooth rotting fluff, night terrors?, Astarion being soft, mention of dead animals, Brian being an asshole as usual..

Chapter 4: Back here

Chapter 5: Hold still.

Chapter 6: Shit.

Winnie looked out the window, eyes wide as she saw Brian and Vanessa outside. Nessa was holding Ollie tightly to her chest as the little dog growled. The three of them were standing their ground as the same beastly dog from before approached. It was snarling with its lips lifted upwards to expose its sharp teeth, drool dripping from its jaws and onto the rope around its neck.

“Astarion, go to my room and hide in my closet I'll, I'll think of something.” Winnie stated.

“You want me to just let you go out there with that deranged beast!? Are you insane! That mutt will gnaw your leg off!” The vampire spawn snapped.

“We don't have time to argue! Go hide!” Winnie huffed before grabbing a broom off the nearby wall. The dog was huge and appeared to be a mix between a mastiff and Pitbull. Brian stood in front of Vanessa, shielding her from the dog as he shouted at it, trying to scare it off.  Astarion gritted his teeth. He didn't want Winnie to get hurt but following her out into the sun was a horrible idea. There definitely wasn't any way he could protect her as a pile of ashes. But he had to do something! That dog had a vicious look in its eyes, lunging with an intent to kill. Brian was able to kick it in the face and make it back up momentarily, but the beast was not backing down. 

Panic flooded over the elven vampire’s mind as he was frantically trying to think of what to do, if he had still been alive his heart would be pounding!  Then suddenly he felt odd…. There was this poof and everything around him got bigger.  No, he was smaller. His hands were replaced by these white little bat wings…

What in the hells!?

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough for Astarion to ponder his new form as Winnie had opened the door, holding the broom close to her as she prepared to try and help her family. Without thinking the small bat leapt up and grabbed onto the back of her shirt with his little claws, crawling under the back of her hoodie to protect him from the sun. Winnie didn't even notice him, too focused on the scene in front of her.  Her mother was safely locked in the car, away from the dog while Brian was doing his damndest to try and scare it away. It was safe to say that the canine was not the least bit intimidated as it snarled, slobber dripping from its jowls. 

Winnie soon rushed over, using the broom to separate herself from the aggressive mongrel. The dog lunged forward, biting into the broom with a bite so strong it threatened to break the wood. Winnie let out a startled squeak at the sight of the dog’s teeth.

“The fuck are you doing, Winnie!? You're making it worse!” Brian shouted. Though his voice didn't even register to Winnie as she was much too terrified of the dog to give a damn about what he said. The dog’s teeth clashed against the broom before it pulled back preparing for another attack when it noticed something peek out of the brunette-haired female’s hoodie. Keeping the hoodie over his head to shield him from the sun, Astarion peaked out at the dog with a tiny glare. 

The dog blinked in confusion before getting a whiff of Astarion's familiar undead scent and letting out a whine, tail dropping between its legs as it let out a bark.

“Smells wrong!” Astarion could hear the dog speak while in his new animal form. The dog suddenly turned and ran off, whimpering along the way. Winnie blinked in utter bewilderment. 

He just….Left? What the fuck was that about?

“Oh, thank goodness. Winnie scared it away!” Vanessa let out a sigh of relief. 

“I had it completely under control.” Brian huffed as Winnie’s mother suddenly opened the car door and got out. 

“Oh my God, that was close. Brian, we need to call animal control! That dog is dangerous!” She exclaimed, stepping out of the car. 

“It would probably be better if I shot that damn mutt.” Brian muttered. 

“Brian!” His wife crossed her arms. 

“Alright, alright woman! I'm getting my phone!” The brunette haired man huffed.

“Uh…. It might be best to go inside…? In case the dog comes back I mean.” Winnie suggested.

“I ain't afraid of no fucking dog…” Brian muttered under his breath as he fumbled with his cellphone.

“You're right, Winnie. Come on Nessa, let's go inside.” Winnie’s mother said before leading the young girl inside. Winnie quickly followed after them and moved ahead of them, hoping Astarion had gone and hid. The plump female was completely unaware Astarion had changed his form and hitched a ride inside her hoodie. The tiny white bat stayed completely still as his tiny claws stayed hooked into the back of her shirt.

“Winnie! Winnie! Can I play the new video game you got?” Vanessa asked, setting the dog down on the floor. Her eyes grew round as she looked up at the young woman pleadingly.

“Ah no kid, it's for adults. And I don't want your dad to get mad at me if you see something…inappropriate.” Winnie coughed and rubbed the back of her neck. 

“Ugh! It's not fair! I'm almost thirteen and this boy from my class is playing it!” Nessa huffed and crossed her arms.

“No means no. Goodness' sake, you're too young to play adult games.” Winnie replied sternly.

“And you're too old to watch cartoons but you still do it!” Vanessa sassed before storming off to her bedroom. Winnie rolled her eyes, muttering ‘brat’ under her breath. She turned to head back to her bedroom, but unfortunately Brian had come back inside and had her in his sights. 

“The hell did you say to my kid!?” He snapped, getting really close to Winnie's face, his nasty tar smelling breath hitting her like a brick.

“I just told her she can't play my new game because it's for adults.” Winnie huffed, eyes glancing back over to her room as she flinched away from him. 

“I saw her run to her room! You better tell the truth right now!” Brian raised his voice.

“Brian! Calm down! Winnie is telling the truth, I saw everything.” Winnie’s mother suddenly stepped in and stood between her husband and daughter. Brian muttered under his breath.

“Catherine, the girl is dangerously close to becoming a delinquent! I've seen those vile games she plays! They're not right!” Brian barked.

“You’re being dramatic. Winnie would never hurt a fly. Look, we've all just had a scare outside so why don't we calm down, go to our rooms and try to relax?” Catherine said before pulling Brian along. The middle-aged sack of piss continued to mutter under his breath, but inevitably gave in and followed his wife to the bedroom.  Winnie sighed in relief before quickly rushing to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. 

“Astarion?” She suddenly whispered out and looked around her room. “Astarion?” She called again before slowly stepping towards the closet, only to freeze as she felt tiny claws climbing up and down her back.

“What the hell is on me!?” She panicked, shivering in disgust before suddenly throwing her jacket off and onto the ground. Winnie looked in the mirror and checked herself but found nothing.

Brown eyes glanced down at her purple hoodie before noticing a little fuzzy white head poke out from underneath her coat. A little albino bat crawled out and looked up at Winnie with round red eyes. It immediately began to let out panicked sounding little squeak-like chirps and scurry towards Winnie.  She backed up a bit in utter confusion.  

" A bat? How did I get a bat in my jacket?” Winnie asked aloud. The bat continued to squeak at her as if trying to speak. He didn't try to flee or fly away which was very unusual. 

Then suddenly Maddie poked her head out from under the bed, slowly creeping towards the small animal. The bat turned to look over as the black cat prowled towards him, pupils enlarged and tail swatting back and forth as she prepared to pounce.  The bat let out a frightened squeak before attempting to crawl away as Maddie galloped towards him, pinning him down with her paw.

“Maddie no!” Winnie said trying to get her cat's attention, but the feline didn't acknowledge her.

She looked ready to bite down on the little creature until she got a whiff of his scent. Maddie sniffed him curiously before ultimately removing her paw from his little body. 

“Mew!” The cat began to purr before rubbing her face over the tiny bat. All the while Winnie was slowly trying to comprehend what was happening. 

An albino bat that Maddie seems to recognize as a friend?

Winnie had a gnawing suspicion, but it was so ludacris that she didn't know whether or not to trust it. Eventually the young woman knelt down on the ground and held out her hand. 

“Astarion…?”  She spoke up. The small bat immediately turned his attention to her before crawling over to sit on her hand and squeak. 

“This feels utterly insane…. but could you nod if it's you?” She asked. The little bat immediately nodded in response.

“How is this even possible? Spawn aren't supposed to be able to transform into bats.” Winnie sat down on the armchair, holding Astarion in her hands. He squeaked a few times as if trying to speak to her. “Star, I don't understand whatever you're trying to say…. All I hear are squeaks on my end…” 

Astarion’s ears dropped before Winnie scratched his head with a single finger. “You are very cute like this though.” The brunette-haired woman smiled.  “This could actually come in handy, but it would probably be best if you figure out how to change back…. Preferably when I'm not holding you of course.” Winnie stated before setting the small bat down on the bed.  

Astarion made a few little bat noises as he appeared to shake and strain a little in an attempt to turn back. When he changed before he was in a panic, so he wasn't sure exactly what he did that caused his transformation. Was it the fear of something happening to Winnie? No, that didn't seem right. 

Winnie sat on the bed beside him as she pondered exactly how this was possible. In the game he was only able to take the form of a bat if he ascended. And everything she'd seen indicated that Astarion was a spawn. Hell, he was even soft on her like he was with Tav in his spawn romance route. Could being in her world really give him new abilities? Winnie held her chin in thought before a theory formed in her mind. Astarion said that he fell in love with her over and over, and that he'd been reliving the games storyline repeatedly. That would mean that he's basically been experiencing all her save games .... maybe .... But Winnie never went through a playthrough where she ascended him…except oh….

There was this one time she saved before checking out the ascension route and it might have autosaved. Winnie was eventually broken out of her thoughts by a flash of red around the tiny bat before suddenly he grew back into his normal vampire elf form.

 “Gods below.” Astarion let out a sigh of relief. “I am certainly not accustomed to being so small and hairy….eugh…It felt unnatural.” Astarion shivered. 

“Oh, you figured it out! That's great.” Winnie smiled before looking over Astarion as he took a moment to compose himself. 

“This world of yours seems to get more interesting by the day. Although I'm not entirely sure what use this new form would have. Well other than allowing me to seek shelter from the sun from under your coat.” Astarion hummed.

“Bats can fly! It would probably be very useful if you needed to get somewhere quickly at night.” Winnie stated. “And the smaller you are, the easier it is to hide.” 

“Perhaps there may be some use to this form then.” Astarion smirked a couple ideas of sneaking around the house to torment Brian began to cook in his mind. 

“I'm still a tad concerned about how this happened…. It worries me a bit.” 

“What's to worry about? Obviously, my presence in this realm has opened up some wonderful possibilities.” Astarion chuckled with a smirk.

“I don't know how to feel about this…” Winnie looked off to the side. “Astarion, I should probably tell you about something I've been looking into. I've been quiet about it because I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but I've been trying to figure out what caused you to be well…Here…But I'm not trying to send you back! I promise!” Winnie stated. 

“Well, I do appreciate you telling me this. Although I'm not entirely sure why it's a concern of yours if you're not trying to send me back.” 

“Something caused it and I want to know why and if it's dangerous. Things like this just don't normally happen here. This isn't a magical place like the one you're used to.” Winnie sighed. 

“There you go worrying again. My poor paranoid darling. You know we should probably work on finding ways to relieve your stress.” Astarion grinned.

“Astarion.” Winnie pouted with an annoyed expression.

“What? I was just going to suggest a massage, perhaps a hot bath. Hells bellow, not everything I say is about sex, you naughty thing.~” Astarion crossed his arms but looked at Winnie with a mischievous grin. 

Winnie blushed darkly before rolling her eyes.

“We're getting off topic. The point is whatever caused this was not normal for my world and I want to know if it will affect us. That's why I've been trying to get to the bottom of it.”  Winnie huffed before falling back on the bed. 

“And what have you found?” Astarion, asked as he loomed over her. 

“Not much. I found the alias of someone who might be involved, but I'm having trouble finding more information about them.” 

“I know little to nothing about this portal device thing, but I'm willing to help well…somehow…” Astarion hummed and looked over Winnie with a sweet gaze.  

“Thank you. Though I'm not sure what would help.” Winnie hummed and stared up at the ceiling in thought while Astarion watched her, eventually laying down beside her.  

“Perhaps you could ask someone else for help? Someone from here.” The vampiric elf suggested.

“That would be a good idea, only I don't want to risk exposing you or looking like a complete lunatic…No one is going to believe that a fictional character came out of my computer….Ugh…” Winnie huffed before suddenly her cell phone went off in her pocket. She got a message from Becca asking if Winnie could cover her shift tonight since Becca had to babysit for her mother. 

Wait….Becca mods her games all the time. Maybe she'd know who ShadowMommy69 was at least…Or something about them anyway.

It wasn't a very strong lead, but at least it was something. Winnie probably wouldn't be able to actually talk to Becca in person until this weekend, but maybe she could figure something out. She needed to take Astarion to get some clothes soon anyway and stopping by to talk to Becca on the way wouldn't hurt. 

Winnie glanced over to see Astarion looking at her, eyes soft as his mouth stretched into an odd Grinch-like grin. “Eh…What's up with your face?” Winnie asked. Astarion blinked, broken out of his little dreamy daze. 

“Uh what? Is there something on my face!? Did I get a scratch while turned into that winged rodent!?” Astarion sat up, beginning to freak out and feel over his face.

“No, no, Astarion calm down. Nothing's wrong with your face, honey.” Winnie sat up and cupped his cheeks. His ears turned slightly pink at her pet-name. “It's just as pretty as always…” Winnie said, looking to the side with a blush.  “You just made a funny face is all.” 

“Oh…” Astarion calmed down, placing his hand over one of hers. His chest felt tight as he stared at her soft round face. He wanted to kiss her so badly. Winnie moved a stray curl out of his face before pulling her hands back and looking off to the side with a nervous cough. Her heart was racing. 

“Ah…So uh…We could continue watching a movie in here ... .I locked the door so no one should be able to barge right in and see you.” Winnie said as she twiddled her thumbs.

“That sounds wonderful, love.” 

~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A few days passed. Winnie filled in for Becca and had to deal with the usual, stocking shelves, cleaning and occasionally dealing with a Karen or two. When she was home she had to stay on her toes to make sure that neither Brian or Vanessa ended up walking in to see Astarion, luckily his new little form came in handy. He was able to quickly change and hide under the blanket or in Winnie’s pocket. He also may have begun using this form to sneak around the house when Winnie wasn't home and secretly torment Brian. Because if he wasn't allowed to kill the bastard he'd at least make sure his life was a living hell. He'd toss random spices or sometimes even dirt or garbage into the man’s coffee.  He also tossed Brian's phone onto the floor, allowing Ollie to get it and chew on it. The pale elf certainly kept himself entertained while his beloved was away, but Winnie of course always had something that would stick it's ugly head around the corner to terrorize her. 

“Where is everyone?” Winnie looked around, finding herself lost in the woods. She couldn't remember how she got here or what happened last. It was cold and dark. And something was very, very wrong. There was this sharp panic shooting throughout her body. She took a few steps through the forest before stepping on something.  A human skull. Winnie looked around her seeing scattered bones all over the ground. His breath quickened and she felt purr dread wash over her as this peculiar eerie noise filled her ears. It was almost like a mixture between scraping chalkboards and some really high off key piano being played super fast.  She held her head at the noise, eyes glancing around for an escape route from the forest before suddenly it went silent and there was this shadowy figure staring back at her.  She quickly turned to run, but her feet seemed to take her nowhere. Trees kept passing and passing but the figure was still the same distance away and if anything was getting closer. Winnie opened her mouth and let out a silent scream as the shadow suddenly lunged at her, quick as lightning. 

“Oh God…” Winnie gasped as she shot up from her bed, panting as a bead of sweat dripped down her brow. 

“Darling?” Astarion’s voice suddenly brought her out of her terrified state as she looked over to see him sitting criss-crossed on the armchair with Maddie curled up in his lap. He looked at her with worried eyes and a soft frown. “Are you alright?” 

“Mew…” Maddie suddenly piped up, eyes opening as she looked over at Winnie before hopping out of the elf's lap and stretching.

Winnie was still panting a little, heart pounding as Astarion got up and took a seat on the side of the bed.

 “My love?” Astarion placed his cool hand over one of Winnie’s. Winnie took a deep breath and tried to slow her breathing.

“Sorry I just had a bad dream…. Something was chasing me and I couldn't get away.” Winnie said, taking a few more calming deep breaths. “I-I’m sorry if I disturbed you…You should probably get back to your meditations.” Winnie turned to face away from him. Despite her trying to brush it off Astarion could feel her heart pounding in fear. He bit his lip as an idea came to mind.

“Would you like me to lie with you?” The vampiric elf asked softly. Winnie looked back at him curiously, a blush forming on her cheeks. 

“If you want to…” Winnie stated before shifting and scooting over closer to the wall. Astarion wasted no time getting in and under the covers next to the human female. Winnie stared over at the pale elf as she laid on her side. Astarion looked back with a soft smile forming as he tucked some hair behind her ear. 

“I'm here. I'm not going to let anything hurt you.” He said softly as he ran a thumb over her cheek.

Winnie smiled a bit, eventually allowing herself to move a little closer to him, shifting around to get comfortable. Astarion snuggles up against Winnie, wrapping his arms around her as she shyly lays her head against his chest. It's completely silent but there's somehow something comforting about it. Winnie nuzzled her face into the cool skin of his neck before closing her eyes. 

They stayed like this up until morning. By then Astarion was curled up around her rather possessively, even had one of his legs hooked around her hip. Winnie could feel his hand gently rubbing along her back, cheek resting upon the side of her head as he snuggled against her soft cushy form. Winnie’s face was still nuzzled into the crook of his neck, nose gently pressed against his faded bite scars. His body felt firm, not as cushy and comfortable as her own, but she didn't seem too bothered by it. Astarion wasn't even trancing anymore, his elven nature only required him to need four hours of rest. He was simply blissfully soaking up Winnie’s warmth, eyes half lidded as he hugged her against him. 

Winnie eventually let out a yawn as her eyes slowly blinked open. She pulled back from Astarion's neck just enough to see his face.

“Good morning, beautiful.~” He purred at her softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Morning…” Winnie yawned out before attempting to sit up, but Astarion still had his arms wrapped around her.  “Astarion, it's time for me to get up.”

“Just stay with me a little longer. You're so soft and warm.~” The vampire cooed, nuzzling his face into her chest and making Winnie turn deep red.

“Brian’s probably going to get up and tell me to do some chores or something…Star…” Winnie huffed.

“I'll gut him if tries to take you from me.” Astarion murmured, face buried in Winnie's plump bosoms. 

“I do believe you'd have to let go of me first to do that silly.” Winnie hummed, absentmindedly playing with Astarion's ivory curls. “Come on, I need to get up.” Winnie stated before pulling herself out of his arms. Astarion let out a displeased sound as Winnie sat up in the bed. The pale elf begrudgingly sat up and looked back at Winnie and pouted with round puppy dog-like eyes. The messy haired female took a moment to stretch out before looking back at the pouting elf.

“Uh…Thanks again for this…I'm honestly surprised you'd want to comfort me over it…..Kinda seems childish needing someone to crawl in bed with me because I had a nightmare.….”

“Darling…Of course I'd comfort you…I know better than most how terrifying your own mind can be.” Astarion cupped Winnie’s cheek looking at her lovingly. “And…I love you…” 

“How can you be so sure of that?” Winnie asked with a sad smile. Her voice is melancholy and full of doubt. 

“Because you're you. You've went out of your way to help me without gaining anything from it and that's how I know you're the same person I fell in love with over and over.” Astarion said, slowly leaning in a little. Winnie smiled with a deep blush. She was honestly rather speechless and a little skeptical, wondering if she was actually dreaming at the moment. If she was, she didn't want to be woken. The brunette haired female found herself leaning in as well, their noses now just barely brushing against one another. Astarion puckered his lips, moving in to kiss Winnie.

“Hey Winnie!~” Footsteps were heard followed by her door knob turning. 

“Shit!” The brunette haired woman’s eyes widened. Just as the door bursts open Winnie quickly shoves Astarion off the bed and behind her dresser before zooming over to the door, making sure most of her room was blocked from sight. 

Nessa stood outside the room seemingly dressed and ready to head out somewhere. The twelve year old stood at about a little over four feet with long sandy blonde hair and brown eyes. 

“What is it, Ness?” Winnie asked, looking down at the young girl as she messed with a few strands of her messy brown locks.

“Dad said that you're supposed to take me out walking today since I'm gonna take Ollie for a walk.”  Vanessa stated.

“Ugh….Why can't he take you?” Winnie huffed in annoyance.

“Because he wants to take a nap and watch his superhero show.” Vanessa explained, “Come one, you can even bring Maddie.” 

“I’m pretty sure your dad said you couldn't be around Maddie?” Winnie hummed.

“We don't have to tell him.” Vanessa said mischievously. 

“Heh, okay. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and get Maddie ready.” Winnie said, gesturing to her clothes. She was still dressed in the red boxers and black tank she always slept in. 

“Okay! But hurry please!” Vanessa said before Winnie quickly closed the door. Winnie turned and looked back at Astarion who was sitting on the floor rubbing his head with a glare on his face.

“You didn't have to push me.” He grumbled, quietly.

“I'm sorry…I panicked…” Winnie moved over to look at his head with concern. She didn't see any wrong, not even a red spot.

“So…You're going out? Off on a leisurely stroll with your little sister, hm?”

“Stepsister and yeah…I'd rather not put up with her running off to Brian right now.”  Winnie looked off to the side.   

“I suppose I'll just remain here and nurse my poor head and wrist you so cruelly injured.”Astarion said dramatically, gripping his right hand with a sad pitiful pout. 

“I said I was sorry and I really am.” Winnie looked back at him with a pout, grabbing his hand glancing over his wrist before kissing it. Astarion couldn't help but smile almost immediately at the sweet gesture. The softness of her lips pressing against his hand made his ears turn a little pink.

“Mm, I quite like that actually.~ Oh alright, I forgive you.” He said in a sweet tone before ruffling her hair.  “Now go on, it's probably not a good idea to keep the girl waiting.” 

Winnie nodded before grabbing some clothes from her closet and heading into the bathroom to change. Astarion sat on the bed as Maddie crawled out from under it and turned to him with a small meow, as if to say hello. The vampire just hummed as scratched the cat on her little head, eliciting a soft purr as her tail slowly flicked about.

Winnie exited the bathroom, dressed in a black and white t-shirt with a skull and some torn skinny jeans that hugged her thick thighs rather tightly. Astarion lounged about on the bed, red eyes admiring the voluptuous female’s legs and backside as she bent over to pick up her shoes off the ground before getting some socks and continued to get ready. Once she was fully dressed she grabbed a backpack before getting the cat harness and hooking it onto Maddie, who purred happily at the attention. Winnie hooked a leash onto the harness before leading the cat out the door, leaving Astarion to his own devices.

Astarion let out a sigh, a little regretful he didn't just change into bat form and go with her, but he had something he wanted to do.  He waited for Winnie to leave the house before sulking about the single story, three bedroom home. Winnie’s mother had long gone off to work, while Brian slept lazily on the recliner in their bedroom. Astarion crept onto the room, grinning sadistically. He slowly made his way over to the sleeping man before reaching into his pocket and pulling something out.  Astarion's brows knit together as he raised his hand high over the sleeping human, preparing to do his worst.

He then uncapped the marker in his hand and drew a well detailed sketch of a penis on the unpleasant man’s forehead. The vampire bit his lip suppressing a giggle before stopping to admire his masterpiece. He then proceeded to glance around the room, noticing some thumbtacks on a nearby dresser. He grinned ear to pointy ear before grabbing hold of them and placing them into Brian's shoes. He then casually strolled out of the room before returning back to Winnie’s room.

“GODDAMNIT!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!” Brian’s voice was suddenly heard.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•

Winnie walked along the sidewalk as Maddie padded behind her on a leash, inquisitive blue eyes scanning about for any sign of a tiny creature to prey upon. Vanessa walked ahead with a skip in her step as Ollie happily trailed behind her, tail wagging as his tongue hung out making it look almost as if the little dog was smiling. They stopped a few times because Ollie wanted to sniff a specific patch of grass a few hundred times or because Maddie got distracted by a bug, but eventually they approached the end of the street.

“Ooh! I have an idea! Let's go to the gas station around the corner! Please!” Nessa begged. 

“I guess we could, since it's not too far.” Winnie said before continuing up the road. The air was warm, but there was a cool breeze gently brushing through her hair. She could hear the ringing of wind chimes as they passed a couple of houses before spotting two men in their yard.

“Another dead possum. This is the fifth one we found in the last three days, Bill! And my wife said she found three dead raccoons in the backyard! I'm telling you something is out there killing all them critters!” One of the men said. 

“Oh fucks sake Daniel, it's just some coyotes! It's their breeding season, they're everywhere.” 

“Bill, coyotes would have dragged off and eaten the bodies! These possums don't even look like they have any bite marks on em. They're just dead…” Daniel insists. 

Winnie tensed up a bit as she overheard their conversation. Vanessa however seemed to just ignore the two men and continue along the sidewalk.

“So what? You think this is some monster roaming around at night?” Bill laughed.

Oh God…..I hope that's not my monster…

Winnie bit her lip nervously as she continued down the road with Vanessa. She took a deep breath and tried not to worry about it too much. She'd talk to Astarion about it later. Everything would be fine as long as no one saw him outside while he was hunting. Eventually the two females led their pets around the corner and to a small service station that sat just outside the suburbs. Winnie scooped Maddie up and let her hitch a ride in her backpack before entering the air conditioned filled shop. Maddie stayed curled up in Winnie's pack, but occasionally poked her head out to look around.   

“They always have good pizza here. We should get some!” Vanessa suggested, holding Ollie in her arms.

“Hmm….The adult in me says we should probably go home and eat to save money….But…The pizza lover in me is telling the adult to shut up.” Winnie grinned before they walked over to get two small large single slices. Oddly, just as Winnie went to pay for the food she noticed a man watching them out of the corner of her eye. He looked so familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He had combed back brown hair and was dressed in a rather stylish looking suit. He was looking at the two from outside the window of the store, smiling with a smug almost devilish smirk.

“Ma’am! That'd be 10.99!” The cashier said, breaking Winnie out of her trance.

“Oh sorry! I got distracted!��� Winnie said before pulling out her debit card and paying for the pizza. Winnie and Nessa took their food before turning to leave. Winnie’s brown eyes immediately scanned outside for the man from before, but he'd completely vanished. 

It was almost as if he'd never been there at all.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Okay….Brian, mom and Vanessa are asleep. Now we need to sneak out as quietly as possible.” Winnie said, running a hand through her hair as Astarion slipped on the black hoodie she had generously gifted him. 

“I am rather excited for our second date.” Astarion said with a grin. 

“We're just going shopping…It's not much of a date activity.” Winnie said bashfully.

“Of course it can. I'm spending time with you, that's all that matters really.” Astarion replied before opening the window and climbing out, stealthily and skillfully. Winnie grabbed her pack and purple hoodie before looking down out the window nervously. She really wasn't in the best shape for sneaking out of the house by her window. 

“Come on, love.” Astarion whispered from down below. The drop from Winnie’s window to the ground wasn't exactly far enough to be dangerous, but it was enough to be intimidating.

Winnie shakily stepped out and onto some pipes that ran along the house. She closed the window on her way out before attempting to climb down the rest of the way, nearly stumbling and falling on her face only to be caught by her vampiric companion. 

“Oh, look at you, trying to fall into my arms.~” Astarion teased with a wink before setting Winnie down. 

“Let's just go before I end up dying by tripping or something.” Winnie said, face turning pink in embarrassment. The two set off, getting onto Winnie’s motorcycle and driving down the street and out of the suburbs. Astarion wrapped his arms around Winnie's soft plump waist. He was a little annoyed by the backpack wedged between them, but tried to hold tightly onto his darling to the best of his abilities. 

Winnie zoomed up towards the city on her bike, slowly down as they reached the CornerStore. Winnie parked her motorcycle before getting off. The night sky was clear and the stars were shining brightly. Winnie walked into the store with Astarion trailing after her, red eyes curiously scanning the store. As Winnie went over to speak to Becca at the cash register, Astarion snuck over into one of the isles. He poked around at some of the merchandise for sale. The elf spotted a small colorful object that somewhat resembled the strange contraptions the people of Winnie’s realm traveled in. Astarion poked it inquisitively before nearly jumping five feet up as the tiny device released a loud repeating honking noise. Astarion quickly got away from the device in case it was some kind of magical explosive, backing up against the other isle in fear. Eventually the device went silent. Astarion let out a sigh of relief before continuing to inspect the isles, eyes growing wide with excitement as he spotted what looked like a dagger! Gleefully he snatched it up, hoping to swipe it and keep it for himself, but as he looked at it closely he realized something was off about the blade. It was quite dull and didn't appear to even be made of metal. The vampire pouted before tossing the fake dagger off to the side with a huff.  

Hells below, they don't even sell decent weapons at this place. 

Meanwhile, Winnie walked over and greeted Becca. “Hey Becca! I was hoping I'd catch you on your shift.” 

“Oh, Hey Wyn! What's up?” Becca greeted with a cheerful smile, long red hair done into a pair of  twin braids that hung over her shoulders. 

“Okay so um….You modded BG3 right, I mean I remember you saying you modded most of your games so I was just wondering?” Winnie said, nervously messing with a piece of her hair. 

“Yeah I did. I added some hair mods, got that anti-abs mod for some of the male characters…A cheat engine and the romance-” 

“Cheat engine! That's it! Do you remember who made yours?” Winnie said, excitedly placing her hands on the conveyor belt as she looked over at Becca. Becca had a confused look on her face as she noticed Winnie's enthusiasm when she mentioned the ‘cheat engine’.  She was about  to speak when she suddenly noticed Astarion sneaking around the isles. 

“Uh…. Winnie, is that your friend from the other day?” The redhead asked. 

“Ah crap, sorry about him. Star! Get over here!” Winnie huffed a bit. 

“Coming lover!~” Astarion said with a mischievous grin as he winked at Winnie. The pale elf sauntered over to his embarrassed human love who was glaring at him slightly.

“I knew he was your boyfriend! Winnie, why didn't you tell me?” Becca whined.

“Well….I-I…I-I…” Winnie sputtered nervously, trying to think of what to say when Astarion wrapped an arm around her. 

“My darling, wants to keep me a secret from her step-father.  She's afraid he wouldn't approve if he knew.” Astarion added. 

“Oh shit, I didn't think of that. Brian has always been a bigot. He'd probably pitch a fit if he found out Winnie was dating a British guy!” 

“Ah yes….That's exactly what I am….”

Whatever the hells British means…?

“Becca, the cheat engine?” Winnie pressed, looking at her friend with pleading eyes. 

“Oh yeah, hmm let me think…..”Becca held her chin for a moment. “Ah, Shadowsomething69…Yeah they deactivated their account. The mod’s gone now.” 

“It's…. ShadowMommy69….” Winnie cringed at the sound of the name coming out of her mouth.

“And I've been trying to find them and maybe get in touch with them.” 

“Oh? Is this person a friend of yours?” Becca asked.

“No, I've never spoken to them, but I need to. Kind of a private thing though…” 

“Hmm…My boyfriend Anthony might be able to get in touch with them. He's a modder and he's pretty active in the modding community, he might be able to tell you more. I think he's actually talked to them, but I'm not sure.” Becca hummed a bit before her eyes lit up as an idea popped into her head. “Ooh! Me and Anthony we're gonna go out to the carnival when it comes to town in two weeks. You two should come with! It'll be a double date! Then you can ask him there!” 

“Two weeks? I don't know-” Winnie began but was quickly intercepted by Astarion.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Don't you think so, my sweet?” Astarion asked, looking at Winnie with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“I guess…so…” Winnie sighed.

“Awesome! I'll text you the details later and come pick y'all up in my truck.” Becca smiled before suddenly some old lady walked into the store.

“Excuse me! I need help finding some cat food!” The old woman asked.

“Of course, right this way.” Becca said before leading the old lady off.

“Well, I guess we should go now.” Winnie huffed before walking out of the store with Astarion following after. 

“What's the matter, love? I thought you'd be thrilled to go on another date?” Astarion quizzed.

“What if something happens between now and then? Like some world ending bullshit happens because I can't find the idiot that made a vampire pop out of my computer.” 

“Sweetie, you're making me look optimistic. And that's worrying.” Astarion placed his hands on Winnie's face.  “I'm not going to let anything happen to you, my love. I swear it. And besides I've dealt with the end of the world once already, surely the second time won't be as bad as the first.” 

“Alright….But you do realize there are clowns at the carnival?” Winnie rose an eyebrow with a slight smirk.

“I…uh…Of course I do! But I'm not bothered by it! And I am certainly NOT afraid if that's what you are implying!” Astarion crossed his arms with a scoff.

“Okay….If you say so…” Winnie said with a mischievous giggled, “anyway we should get going. We've got shopping to do!” The human female said before hopping onto her motorcycle.

Astarion made a ‘hmph’ noise before getting on after her. The two drove into the city, being greeted by all the lights and noise of modern civilization. Astarion was still memorized by it all.

“These metal contraptions your people ride in, are they dangerous?” He asked as they zipped down the road, slowing down as they came to a red light. 

“They can be. But we got rules to help keep people safe when we use them. Different sides of the roads you're supposed to be on and places you have to slow down. It's all systematic I reckon.” Winnie mused, feeling Astarion grip around her waist. “Of course not everyone uses them.” Winnie murmured glaring at a small car that just drove out in front of the red light. Astarion continued to ask a few questions as they continued deeper into the heart of the city. Winnie tried to answer to the best of her ability while keeping her eyes on the road. 

About twenty minutes later they arrived at a large building titled ‘SuperStore.’ Winnie parked off to the side, taking a deep breath as she got off her bike. He'll, even at 8:00 at night this place was packed.  Astarion got off Winnie's motorcycle and quickly grasped the pudgy female’s hand in his as they walked into the store. 

“Hells!” Astarion squeaked as the doors suddenly automatically opened, squeezing Winnie’s hand slightly. 

“It's okay Star, just doors.” Winnie teased with a grin. Astarion rolled his eyes.

“I can see that now.” He huffed before the two ventured into the store. The ‘SuperStore’ had everything you could possibly need, clothes, food, furniture, toys, electronics, you name it. Though this was pretty much the reason it always had people packed up like sardines inside. 

Winnie didn't care too much for the crowds, they made her anxious, but she had to clothe her vampire so sacrifices had to be made. Thankfully his hand wrapped around her smaller one made her feel a little more at ease.  Winnie glanced up as she noticed the security camera and television screen that was on the security camera. She blinked for a moment noticing it looked as if she was holding onto thin air on screen. 

Huh, I guess vampires don't show up on camera.

Winnie immediately took Astarion to the clothing section and immediately smiled from ear to ear as she noticed him searching through the clothing with the giddiest of grins.

“Hm what about this?” Astarion purred and held out a black cropped tank and short leather jacket on a hanger. Winnie grabbed some jeans to go with the outfit.

“Here, try it with this. There's a room you can change in over there.” Winnie said before pointing at the men’s fitting room. She waited as he went to try it on, a shiver going down her spine. 

Winnie could feel eyes on her, as if she was being watched. Hunted maybe. However when she looked she only saw what appeared to be regular old SuperStore shoppers. No one particularly intimidating, unless you count some dude walking around with saggy pants that look like they were about to fall off. But Winnie still felt this uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. 

Just nerves. You're alright.

She mentally told herself. Eventually Astarion walked out of the fitting room in the outfit. He looked rather stylish and the cropped shirt exposing his abdomen was rather enticing. 

“Well, what do you think?” He asked.

“You look good.” Winnie said, shyly with a blush. 

Astarion crossed his arms with a pout.

“Just good? Really, you can do better than that!” He whined.

“More beautiful than all the stars in the sky. There, satisfied?” Winnie replied.

“A bit sappy for my tastes, but it'll do I suppose.” The vampire sassed, playing with one of his curls. 

“Okay okay, now go and get redressed. We've got more outfits to look for.” Winnie hummed, waving the vampire off. The process repeated a few times Astarion got an outfit he liked before changing into it and demanding satisfactory praise from Winnie. And if he didn't get it he'd act like a drama queen until she said something he liked. This continued until they had at least five different outfits that were to Astarion's taste. 

Dear God, I'm about to spend 200 dollars on this man….

Winnie mentally whimpered, already feeling the stinging pain of her bank account getting lighter. 

She pondered the possibility of eventually pleading with the vampire to get a night time job, but then the idea of all the chaos he could cause completely squashed that idea. Winnie sighed and pushed the dreadful thoughts out of her mind as she continued to look around with her vampiric love. The two eventually came up towards the jewelry counter as the elf’s red eyes scanned over some earrings. Studs and small hoops in particular. The ones he appeared to be interested in were gold naturally considering his rather painful silver allergy.   

“See something you like, Star?” Winnie asked. 

“I've always wanted a pair of these. Unfortunately my..ahem… previous occupations never allowed it.” Astarion explained.  Winnie sighed a bit, probably about to regret what she was going to offer.

“Would you like me to buy them for you?” Winnie asked begrudgingly.

“Yes please!” Astarion giggled before planting a kiss upon Winnie's cheek.  Winnie blinked, face turning red as the biggest dopey grin spread across her face. Her annoyance about the money completely vanished. She then proceeded to ring the bell at the counter and summon the jewelry department worker.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A middle aged blonde haired woman stepped up to the counter. 

“Yeah uh ... .my…. partner would like his ears pierced please…Also some earrings.” Winnie said shyly. The woman immediately looked Astarion over, eyes widening as she noticed his teeth.

“Goodness are those fangs? Crazy things you kids will do these days.” The woman said. Astarion looked as if he was about to say something, but Winnie quickly spoke up.

“Well you know fashion can be pretty crazy sometimes! My boyfriend definitely had a wild goth phase a while back.” Winnie chuckled nervously, “anyway let's just get the ear piercing over with…Gotta get home before it gets too late.” The brunette rambled on.

“Alright, take off the hood, son.” The lady said. 

“Winnie my hair.” Astarion murmured to her. 

“Alright I'll get it, just hold still, I'll get it!” She said, pulling down his hood and fixing his pretty white curls. 

“Oh, good lord those ears!” The woman gasped, “Are they real?”

“Yes, he had a birth defect as a baby. He's real sensitive about it though.” Winnie whispered out the last part and the woman just gasped and nodded. Astarion glared over at Winnie with an unamused expression. A little peeved she wasn't letting him talk. Winnie just smiled and laughed nervously. The lady approached him, taking out the earring gun as Winnie stood by, watching nervously.

“AH! FUCKING HELLS!”

Unfortunately elf ears were extremely sensitive.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“They look good, Star. Honestly you look really good.” Winnie complimented as they arrived home. Astarion was dressed in one of the outfits he'd picked out while Winnie had the rest packed into her trunk. 

“Everything looks good on me, darling.~” Astarion smirked, wind blowing through his snowy white curls as they rode home on Winnie's bike. Winnie let out a yawn, her eyes feeling a bit sleepy.  Winnie was so ready to get home and sleep.

Maybe even cuddle up with her vampire boyfriend again who knows? If she could just work up the courage to ask. Astarion had a pair of blood red studs in his elven ears which matched rather well with his eyes.  Eventually they reached the suburbs, slowing down as Winnie’s house was in sight. Slowly they pulled into the driveway, getting their bags out of the motorcycle’s little trunk and sneaking back around the house to Winnie’s window.

Astarion climbed up first and pulled the window open.

“Clothes, love.”  He whispered, before Winnie tossed him the bags. The vampire tossed them in before climbing back down. “Now you, precious thing.~” He purred, ushering for Winnie to climb up next. 

Winnie took a deep breath before climbing up, struggling a bit as she attempted to wiggle her way through the window, legs flailing a bit. Red eyes were glued to her plump rear end. 

As delicious as this sight is, I should probably assist.

Astarion placed his hands on the chubby female’s backside, pushing her up suddenly. She let out a squeak and dropped into her room, falling onto the floor with a huff.  Astarion swiftly climbed up after her, slipping in through the window with ease.

“And here we are, safe and sound!” Astarion sighed and stretched out while Winnie still laid on the floor, face down, ass up, as she tried to catch her breath from the climb up, panting like she had just run a marathon. 

“Um….Who are you?” A small voice suddenly asked from the other side of the room. Astarion looked over to see Winnie's twelve year old step sister, eyes wide with shock.

“Shit.” Astarion breathed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, I did not mean for it to get this long! So, what did you think? Did you know who the mystery man following Winnie is? Any concerns about Astarion making the neighborhood's critter population go down? Are you mad I had Astarion and Winnie's kiss interrupted? Oh, what am I saying everyone gets triggered by that trope lol.

~Druid

Taglist: @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @tiedyedghoulette , @misscrissfemmefatale, @gianchan-de , @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei

[mistercrowbar]

Not related to any ask game, just suddenly had the concept pop into my head and got curious about the tavs I follow! What would Auntie Ethel say to Aldiirn in her vicious mockery?

Ethel’s standard half-drow and male drow lines work pretty well for him since he faces discrimination from all sides, any variation of calling him a mongrel cuts deep.

Bare your throat spider bait!

Even the Underdark doesn't want ya! Half breed!

Kneel boy! Just like the matriarchs taught you to!

A Half-Drow! How grotesque!

But for some Aldiirn specifics…

Make that face again and I’ll put you in my stew!

Zero points!

Running surface routes don’t make you clever, makes you weak!

You’ll let anything take a bite out of you, won’t ya?

Lying liar who lies! (Thanks satanicspinosaurus)

You’ll only ever be the mushroom man!

Aldiirn would never pass the save on the zero points one lmao

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Well, here we are--at the end of the road (though there will be a sizeable Epilogue coming up in the future).

But I want to thank everyone who stuck with me since October 2023, when I first got the bizarre idea to write a story about a London Matchmaker and an Arsenal footballer. I hope you all enjoyed the journey and I hope that the conclusion is satisfying.

TW: EXPLICIT (there is a long sex scene in this one)

Also, it's a long chapter.

Please let me know, Anon or not, what you thought of what came to be known as 'Matchy'.

Thanks again!

-

Chapter XVIII

I Got Mine

“Fine. It’s all a lie.”

Elain sighed and hung her head dejectedly.

She was tired. So very tired. She rubbed at her throat, which was aching from all the rough treatment that Azriel inflicted on her neck. He’s been unusually rough today. He wasn’t very gentle to begin with, his grip on her typically tight and firm. But today, he was almost vicious. 

“You happy now?” she walked to the door. “You’ve lied. And I believed you. I am a stupid naive woman who fell for a playboy’s lies. Tale as old as time,” she shrugged.

She fiddled with the handle, not realising that he’d locked the door with a key.

“This was a mistake,” she said with some finality in her voice.

“Is that what you think?” Azriel asked in turn. “That we were a mistake?”

“Seems kind of obvious now,” she pointed out to him. 

“I don’t think so,” he argued. “Actually, I don’t think so at all.”

“Please open the door,” she begged him, with tears in her eyes.

“No.”

“Azriel,” she hissed. “I am tired. I want to go home. I want to take Piglet and I want to go home. Open the damn door right now!”

“Or what?” he was curious, “You’ll start screaming?”

“If I have to.”

She turned to face him and said clearly, “Listen, all I want is my fee and I will be out of your hair and you can live happily ever after.”

He seemed to think about her words, and then crossed his arms and said, “Hmmm. That's going to be a problem.”

“What will?”

“The fee,” he explained calmly. 

“Why is that?” she hissed with indignation.

“Because you are fired.”

He said it in a bland tone, like it didn’t mean anything. If she wasn’t listening closely, she probably would’ve missed his words. But she heard him, and her eyes popped wildly.

How dare he?

Fired?

FIRED?

He was firing her?

“You can’t possibly!” she cried. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, I would. And I am,” he assured her dryly.

Fuming, she exclaimed, “why?! What did I do? How could you?!”

“Your services were lacking,” he shrugged callously.

Elain’s hand flew to her neck, and she glowered at him in utter shock, her breaths jerky and short. Say what he will, but she was good. She was excellent at her job. Her services never ‘lacked’ anything. Even with him and their complicated relationship, she still fulfilled the terms of their contract and introduced him to viable matches. Not only that but he was getting married! To one of the matches. And now he was claiming that she didn’t do a good job and that she was lacking.

“My services do not lack anything, sir!” she snarled at him angrily. 

The corner of his mouth lifted in a tiny smirk. 

“Sir?” he repeated. “I like it.”

She didn’t even understand what he was referring to for a moment, but then it dawned on her and she just about growled in her throat. All he ever thought of was sex! Or something juvenile or utterly daft.

“You want to call me ‘daddy’, baby?” he offered, smiling that nasty smile. “Oh, wait, you already do! In fact, you called me that today.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh yes you did. When you told that fat mongrel to stop biting me,” he reminded her.

“My dog isn't a mongrel! He is purebred,”

Azriel scoffed and asked, “what are the breeds? Pug, asshole and psycho?”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “I now wish I didn’t pull him off of you.”

“And what? Have him bite my dick off?” he mused.

“I don’t care! It’s of no use to me,” she waved her hand dismissively. 

“Are you sure, sweetness?” he snorted a laugh. “Might as well use it to get yourself off a few times.”

She gasped and reddened adorably.

“Or,” he continued, but she begged him, 

“Please stop talking!”

“Remember when I walked in on you?” his voice lost its sharpness and his expression seemed to soften a smidge. Though Elain had no idea what he was referring to and what he’d walked on. 

“You remember,” he pressed, stepping closer to her.

“No, I have no idea.”

“When I walked in on you,” he repeated. “And you had my sweatshirt rolled up into a ball, and you tucked it under your dress,”

She blushed violently, remembering it. Oh god. Why now? What was he bringing this up now?

He was so close to her now, and then his hand was on her face, cupping her cheek, the scars so familiar and so beautiful, that she wanted to cry again. She wanted to bury her face in his hands and have that rough, scarred skin scrape over her cheeks, over her eyes…She wanted his fingers touching her lips, the way he always enjoyed it. 

“You stood in front of the mirror,” he whispered, his chin landing on her head, and his arms wrapping around her. “And you didn’t know that I was there, watching you. You were looking at yourself, with a big round belly under your dress, thinking how you would look with my baby inside of you.”

“I…i,” she attempted to argue, but there was no reason. It did happen. She’d imagined it. Many times. What she’d look like pregnant, what it would feel like to have his baby inside of her, what their family would look like.

She couldn’t stifle a sob, which ripped out from her throat. It was a loud, choking, dry heave–a cry for the future she’d never have.

His hand migrated to her head, and he stroked her gently, his chin still resting atop the satin band. He was huge, his body even bigger and more muscular than she’d remembered. 

“Shhh,” he cooed quietly. “Don’t cry, lassie.”

That only made Elain sob harder. When he called her ‘lassie’, she could barely function on a good day. Today wasn’t a good day. 

“I have to fire you, sweetheart,” he told her again, calmly, almost soothingly.

“What are you talking about?” she sniffled, still perplexed by what he was trying to convey with this. She pulled away from his chest and looked up at him through her tears.

“The problem is,” he explained, as he moved his hand back to her face, and stroked his knuckles over her cheeks, “is that you are very unprofessional,”

Elain sucked in a breath and readied herself for an argument, but he didn’t pay her any heed and just continued talking, 

“Because you made your client fall madly, irreversibly in love with you. And he adores you insatiably. Every longing he’s ever had is just his desire to possess you with every word and every action. You’ve consumed every thought in his head. You quieted the demons inside of him. You made him like himself more than he ever thought possible.”

Elain blinked rapidly, staring at him with incomprehension. She wasn’t sure what he was saying exactly, but it sounded an awful like a love confession. 

“So you understand why I must fire you,” he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Nooo,” she whimpered.

“Conflict of interest, my love,” Azriel smiled at her. “You are my conflict. My conundrum.”

“But…” she reached up and squeezed his neck. “Azriel. What are you saying?”

He sighed. 

At that moment, someone banged on the doors, rapping on it impatiently and they heard an unfamiliar voice, saying, “Mr. Night. This is highly irregular. The ceremony is to be held in 30 minutes. Mr. Night…”

Azriel tilted Elain’s head the way he wanted to, ignoring the irate attendant. 

“You can’t hate me for this,” he said firmly. There was something mischievous in his gaze, but also devious and unrepentant. Elain gulped down on some air, frightened of what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Or Feyre,” he added.

At the mention of her sister, she shuddered visibly. She didn’t expect him to bring her up. Whatever this was, it was bad. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was referring to.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice trembling. Despite the general heaviness of her elaborate dress, she was shivering against Azriel’s broad chest, her palms cold and sweaty at the same time.

“You want to sit down?” he offered thoughtfully, gently rubbing her bare arms up and down, warming her up.

“What did you do?” she repeated.

“Lied to you.”

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, which stretched into an uncomfortably long pause.

At last, Elain managed a tiny, “how?”

She felt small and wounded, like a hunted animal under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“I needed to make you suffer,” he said cruelly. 

“Why?”

“So I’d know that you loved me,” he squeezed her chin almost painfully in his hand. His eyes bore into hers, and his mouth turned into a straight, angry line. “So you would know what it’s like to be without me. So you’d feel it. The way I felt it. I don’t think that you knew that this was real until you’d lost me.”

“What the hell are you saying?” she pushed at him, but he held her steady, squeezing her arms and her face in his huge hands. “I always knew that this was real!”

“Yeah…no, I don’t think so. Like I said, Elain, you needed to be humbled,” he reminded her with that same cruel glint in his eyes, “you needed to understand that I was your man. You needed to cry and you needed to beg for forgiveness, knowing that you’d lost me.”

“I am not going to beg you!” she shoved at him, cheeks red. “Not for anything!”

“Oh, you will,” he assured her. “Because I hold your happiness in my hands.”

“So hooking up with Gwyn was your way of making me beg?” she huffed a hysterical laugh.

He released her so suddenly, she almost fell. 

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I lied about that,” he announced blandly. 

Her brow furrowed and she stared at him, fearful, annoyed, and hopelessly hopeful. What she was hoping for, she wasn’t even sure.

“You lied about…” she began saying, but was interrupted by his vigorous nodding.

“Told you, you were threepence short of a shilling,” he scoffed. 

“Stop insulting me!” she yelled.

“Then stop being daft!” he yelled back.

Composing himself instantly, he let go of her and circled the room, looking agitated. She was still waiting for more–for an actual explanation of what he meant when he said that he’d lied. Frankly, right this moment, she didn’t care about the logistics or complete comprehension of what had occurred. She just stood in the middle of the room, trembling. 

“You…you aren’t with her?” she whispered pathetically. “You aren’t with Gwyn? You broke up?”

He ceased his pacing and looked out the window.

It was a lovely, sunny day outside. The birds were loud–he could hear them even from here, and the greenery outside was pregnant with life. It was bursting and flowering, blackthorn trees were already heavy with pink and white flowers, and cherry plums began blooming as well. It was unusually beautiful for this early in the spring. 

“I was never with her.”

Elain’s head snapped towards him and she stared intently, looking for any sign of dishonesty.

“What do you mean?” she whispered brokenly.

“You know what I mean,” he turned to look at her. “You know exactly what I mean. I am firing you because I am in love with you. And it would be a conflict of interest to continue to employ you. I’ve never loved anyone but you,” he added quietly. “Only you.”

“So,” she was shaking so violently, she grabbed the back of the chair, to hold herself upright. “This…this whole thing? What is this…what of Gwyn?” 

A look of complete bewilderment flickered over her flushed face.

“Like I said, a ruse,” Azriel didn’t look at her, as he inspected her forearm, carefully pulling the drying paper towel off. “I asked Gwyn to play along and she is a romantic at heart, apparently,”

Elain wiped her face, feeling faint. 

“Don’t worry,” he glanced at her, though he sounded frighteningly rational. “I know it’s fucked up. But you wouldn’t fucking listen. So drastic measures needed to be employed,”

“You are grotesque,” she moaned, staring at him in horror.

“I’d call it ‘crafty’,” he argued. “I find solutions, you see. I always win. I wanted you, and I was going to have you by any means possible.”

“You…you…” she choked out, “you will not have me!”

“No, I will,” he assured her.

“You did all this,” she made a wide swipe with her hand. “You…what…” she was feeling so out of sorts, so discombobulated that she was actually afraid that she was either losing her mind or experiencing some kind of an episode. She scrambled to recall stroke symptoms–was that numbness in her left arm? Was her face drooping? Could she still speak and make sense? Because if she thought about this objectively, nothing made sense. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone concerned, as he noted her confusion, and her sweaty pallor. “Do you want some water?” 

The good thing was that the antechamber had been set up with champagne, water, whiskey, truffles, and biscuits. Azriel poured her some water and came to where she was standing.

“Sit down, sweetness,” she urged her gently, wrapping his arm around her waist and carefully pushing her down on the chair. She all but collapsed, without even arguing, and sat on the chair, while he brought the glass to her lips and held the back of her head, so she could drink.

“Drink,” he cooed, stroking her head. “That’s my girl.” 

He put his palm on her abdomen and whispered, “breathe, Ellie. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Azriel,” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, not even caring what that looked like, “you need to be honest with me now. Are you marrying Gwyn?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “No, I am not. I am hoping to marry you, actually.”

“Then what is all this?” she insisted, looking around. She was very well familiar with this venue–it was popular with well-off brides, who could afford the exorbitant prices. Lots of celebrities were married here as well–Judy Garland, Patsy Kensit and Jim Kerr, Prince Pavlos of Greece, Irving Penn and Lisa Fonssagrives, Wallis Simpson, Patrick Vieira, Marco Pierre White and others. This venue required deposits and arrangements and advance notices. This was not a walk-in. 

He went to the refreshments table, poured himself a whiskey, pulled up a chair and sat facing her. 

“Listen,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I was really pissed at you, especially after that day at the Ivy.”

She tried to remember, but came up empty handed. What happened at the Ivy?

Azriel didn’t expand on it though. He continued, ignoring her confusion.

“It was a combination of bad advice and my own personal anger. And frankly, I am still pissed at you, but whatever. I am over it. I got your sister to help me,” he said, and it dawned on Elain that he meant Feyre.

“What did she do?”

“Well, I couldn’t go to Nesta because she’d rip my cock off and I am fond of the thing,” he confessed. “Though it’s withering and dying as we speak, due to disuse,” he sighed dramatically and Elain couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t understand,” he pressed, “I’ve not been inside a pussy since early September. We are in March now.”

“Oh!” she scowled, “however are you surviving?!! Poor lad,”

“I am! I am a fucking poor lad!” he agreed vehemently. 

“What did you rope my sister into?” she asked instead, taking his tumbler and throwing back the rest of his whiskey. He snorted a laugh at her, his brow raised in amusement.

“Got her to find an appropriate venue–this was her choice, but I think she did well,” he said, looking around. “And then of course, she designed the invitation,” he told her sheepishly. 

Elain’s mouth popped open.

The invitation.

Mr. Azriel Singer-Night and Miss Gwyneth Berdara request the pleasure of your company at their nuptials…

“Jesus Christ,” Elain moaned softly.

“Okay, before you freak out,” he said quickly, but she cut him off,

“Before? BEFORE I freak out? I am freaking out, Azriel. I am so past freaking out, you have no idea!”

“Okay, I understand,” he nodded, caressing her arm soothingly, like it made it okay. “But don’t blame her. I bribed her,”

“With what?!!”

He winced and said quietly,

“Unlimited hugs from Pink?” rubbing the back of his neck, he added quickly, “so you’ll need to sort that out with him, because I can’t. I would–I absolutely would–but he hates me. So I am not sure he’ll listen. So you should probably get on that sharpish.”

“So you are bribing my sister with my dog to create a fake invite to your fake wedding with another woman? And I have to be the one to make good on your promise?” 

He considered it and then acknowledged, “Well, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound good.”

“It doesn’t sound good,” she concurred.

She couldn’t even comprehend the depth of his deception. It was truly unhinged. Diabolical.

And yet…

To go to these lengths was truly inexplicable behaviour, unless Azriel was genuinely…in love. 

“But,” he continued, “on the other hand–,”

“There is more?” she groaned, needing more whiskey. Sharpish.

“I planned a wedding for us,” he said, trying to look innocent. 

She let out a hysterical laugh. 

“You actually think that I would marry you after all this?”

Azriel opened his mouth, but there was a forceful knock on the door and they heard Rhysand’s voice,

“I brought your trousers and a new jacket.”

“How long is this going to take?” Nesta echoed. “If it takes you over 45 minutes to convince someone to marry you, then maybe they are not that into you,” she shouted. “And you should take the hint! She can do much better than you!”

Azriel winced and murmured, “fuck she is brutal”.

Elain took the interruption as an opportunity–she jumped from her chair and rushed to the door, hissing at Azriel “open it!”

He sighed, but did not argue and walked to open the door.

Nesta was standing there with a sneer on her face, arms crossed on her chest.

“You knew too?!” Elain cried out, not believing that her sister would do this to her.

Nesta rolled her eyes slightly,

“I didn’t. But I guessed,”

“How?” Explain!” Elain exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” Cassian piped in, looking a tad lost in this conversation.

Rhys meanwhile wrinkled his nose, looking at Azriel’s paper-toweled arms, and his torn trousers, ordering him, “You need to change.”

Fenris and Feyre were minding the snarling Piglet, and Feyre had the good sense to look guilty and avoid Elain’s blazing glare.

“Is there always this much drama with these families?” Fenris wondered out loud, smirking at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“How did you know?” Elain insisted, while Azriel wrapped his fingers over her upper arm and held her close to him.

Nesta pursed her lips, giving him an unamused look and then said, “I didn’t believe that he left you. Not for a second. He loves you too much. Always have.”

Elain stared at her sister, eyes wide, expression shuttered. 

“Told you,” Azriel breathed into her ear. 

“Leave me alone!” she tried to wrestle her arm out of his hold, but to no avail. 

Rhys handed Azriel a garment bag, saying, “if we could make this happen some time today, it would be wonderful.”

“You knew it too?” Elain asked accusingly.

Rhys shrugged innocently.

“I am married to Feyre darling, you know. It certainly didn’t take an hour to convince her to marry me, did it, Fey?”

Elain pointed her finger at her sister, and growled at her, “I will have a very serious talk with you later.”

Cassian stepped forth, looking puzzled.

“Wait. You aren’t marrying Gwyn?” he confirmed.

Nesta groaned.

Azriel said ‘no’.

Cassian exhaled loudly and exclaimed, “oh thank God! But are you marrying Elain? I am so confused.”

“Clearly,” Nesta sniped under her breath.

“He is not marrying me!!” Elain howled desperately. “He made his bed and,”

“You’ll be in it,” Azriel told her with mad confidence.

“Ha! Dream on. Never. You are a liar! And a cheat. And a manipulator.”

Azriel’s facial expression did not change, though his eyes turned colder and lines bracketed his mouth. His huge hand squeezed the back of her neck and he pulled her roughly to him.

“Apparently,” he gritted out, “we have more to discuss.”

All the other men straightened and made themselves known, watching how he rough handled her, but before anyone could say anything, he half-dragged her back into the room and slammed the door closed. 

“Ow,” Elain attempted to twist out of his hold, but he gripped her tightly and even as she tried to unlatch his hand from her neck, he just held her, though he did not squeeze.

“Clearly, we are not on the same page yet,” he grunted with displeasure. “And you, beautiful, seem to not understand your position,”

“My position?!?! What is my position?! Let go!” she attempted to slap his hands away, but wasn’t successful.

“No. Your position is to understand that this is happening.”

“Nothing is happening. You didn’t even ask for forgiveness!”

“And I won’t,” he warned her. “Don’t expect it.”

He finally released his brutal hold on her arms and she noticed faint purple marks on her skin. Wonderful…

“I know what you want from me,” he said with a sigh.

“And what do I want from you?” she asked, her voice shaking, adrenaline pumping through her and making her feel like she was on drugs. She’d done a couple of lines of cocaine in uni. This felt even worse. 

He scowled and explained, “You want me to tell you that I will be okay. That time will pass and I will grow comfortable being without you. You want me to tell you that I wouldn’t need you like I do right now. That I wouldn’t want you. You want me to tell you that time heals all wounds and that I would move on.”

She was blinking at him, watching his beautiful, devastated face, and how he was shaking his head.

“But the truth is, beautiful,” he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, still shaking his head, as if imagining what that would look like for him–the reality of her not being there. “The truth is that, no, it won’t be okay. Because frankly, I love you too much. And I know that I am a fuck up who probably fucked up any and all chances of actually being with you. Now I see how stupid it was, but I can’t go back and change it. It is what it is. But you need to understand that I wouldn't be okay at all. Because you, Elain, well, you are my endgame. My soulmate. Really the only possible ‘happily ever after’ that there is for me. I am not an easy man to love. I am dick to everyone, or almost everyone. A real twat. And not a simple option for any woman to like, let alone love. Birds have been throwing themselves at me for a decade and I think that screwed things up for me in my head. Not an excuse, I know, but I also know that from the moment I saw you–and I saw your legs first, without even seeing your face–I somehow knew this was it. No more birds for me after I’ve met you. Haven’t even thought of anyone. Haven’t paid attention to a female. When I saw you, I knew that I was going to become a nutter for you and my world would begin and end with you. And to this day, I am absolutely convinced that you are entirely too good for me. I am punching so above my weight I can’t even wrap my mind around it. But you are my person. My only fucking love. The only love I want,” he sounded exhausted and absolutely defeated, as he wiped his eyes and his forehead. “And no, I will not be okay without you, Elain.”

“But you lied to me, and you manipulated me,” she began whispering, “and,”

“And I’d fucking do it again,” he told her, his tone stern, his voice rough. “You want me to beg and grovel? Is that what you want?” he shrugged. “Sure, I’ll do it! If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it. But it’s a waste of time,”

“Why?!” she exclaimed, “are you not sorry for putting me through this?!”

“I’ve put myself through worse,” he argued. “And no, I am not fucking sorry. And yeah, I’ll grovel if that will make you happy, but don’t expect any kind of bullshit of us ‘taking it slow,” he made quotation marks with his fingers, “or me giving you ‘time to decide’ or get ‘in touch with your feelings’, none of that shite,”

“Excuse me?!” she cried out incredulously. 

He stepped closer to her and before she could pull away, he cupped her face between his hands.

“What it means, beautiful,” he said severely, his face grim and intense, “is that the only way you are leaving this building today is as my wife.”

She attempted to step back and get out of his hold, but he squeezed her cheeks tighter and pressed on, “You are marrying me today, Elain.”

“You are insane! I am not,” she screeched, but he shook his head in a firm NO.

“Yes you are. You are becoming Mrs. Night. Today. I am done playing fucking games with you.”

“I am not marrying you!”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “And if you aren’t, then it’s me kidnapping you and keeping you in a cage. Like, your choice, baby.” He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“You are completely insane!” she gasped.

“Maybe. But I also love you more than life. Love you more than anything. Yeah, call me obsessed, unhinged, deranged–I’ll accept it. Because I am all those things. Because of you and how I feel about you. And I am sorry, Elain, but I love you selfishly. I love you too much to let you go. So I am not,”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she demanded.

“It would be better if you said yes,” he suggested. “Because then I’d have to do something drastic, and I don’t want to. But I will steal you,” he warned. “I don’t care what it makes me and I don’t care if you think that I am an obsessed freak.”

“You are!”

“So I am.”

Suddenly, he dropped down in front of her to his knees and wrapped his heavy, strong arms around her thighs, burying his face in her belly. She stood still, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides, a desperate need to touch him and comfort him clawing at her. Unable to help herself, she threaded her fingers through his thick black hair and whispered, “what do you want, Azriel?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kneeled in front of her, and held her, inhaling the scent of her, his palms gently stroking her bottom. 

“You,” he said at last. “Only you. I only want one thing, Elain. And it’s you.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. But then, Azriel looked up at her and asked the same question, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“I do.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes at his confidence.

“You want the same thing you’ve wanted for a long time now–me. Deny it or not, it won’t make a difference. We both know that it’s true. You want to be married to me.”

She choked and attempted to say something, but the next moment he shocked her by pulling out a small box and shifting to one knee.

“Always wanted to do this, never thought I’d get the chance,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, here it goes,” he looked up at her and asked, “marry me, beautiful. Today. Right now. And I promise to be the best husband to you. I will love you and I will be loyal. I’ll respect you. I’ll take care of you. You’ll never want for anything in your life. I’ll make you laugh. I’ll save you, if you need saving. I’ll pick up Pinky’s turds. I’ll participate in all your high society crap with you. I’ll dedicate every goal to you. I’ll fuck all your holes and you’ll love it,”

“Jesus Christ,” Elain gasped, her whole body shaking. 

“I’ll get you pregnant and I’ll be a good father to our children. I’ll cook and I’ll wash dishes…No, we have a dishwasher, so that’s a moot point.”

She couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

“Same for laundry. Also, we can just hire maids and housekeepers because we’re rich. I am not paying you your fee,” he warned. “Your services leave much to be desired, frankly. But the 230 mil–you get that, along with me, because you’ll be my wife. And we are together for life. Maybe we’ll take some longevity shots and live forever! These are my terms. I suggest you accept them.”

Elain scrubbed her face and muttered, 

“This is the worst proposal ever.”

“No it’s not!” he exclaimed, scandalised. 

“It is. It actually included the words ‘fuck all your holes’ and ‘turds’.”

“Practical things,” he shrugged, opening up the little box. Inside, Elain found a lovely ring–not ostentatious or enormous–but a gorgeous pale pink oval diamond set in a flower-like setting. There were little emeralds surrounding it, resembling leaves and tiny pearls for flower buds. 

It was a perfect ring.

Of course.

But then, Azriel knew her. Knew how she was and what she liked and what she wanted. He always knew, without her even telling him.

“The only acceptable answer, Ellie, is a ‘yes’,” he reminded her. 

She bit her lips, looking at him, at the ring, her mind scrambling. 

Finally she asked, “you’ll be honest and true with me, always?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“And you love me like you say you do?”

“I do. Even more than that.”

She traced his cheekbone with her finger and whispered,

“I love you too. I love you so much that even if parts of me tell me to say ‘no’, I cannot. “

“Your heart won’t allow you to say no to me,” he told her confidently. “It knows you better than your brain does.”

He waited for her and she murmured, “I am scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“Will it be okay? Will we make it?”

“We’ll make it, baby. We were written in the stars a long time ago. Also, I asked your father for your hand as well,”

She gasped, “you did?”

“Of course. I am not a neanderthal.”

That was questionable, but okay.

“Asked him a long time ago,”

“What’s a ‘long time ago’?” she wondered. “We’ve only known each other for a little bit of time.”

Azriel sighed and admitted, “I asked him over Christmas.” 

Elain stuttered. Christmas??

“You asked him and then you broke up with me?!” she cried.

“I never broke up with you,” he corrected her. “I gave you ‘time’,” he scoffed at that. “Something you kept saying you need. So you had your ‘time’ and you were miserable. And now, I am not giving you any more time. By the way, your father gave me his permission to ask you. He told me that I am an ‘unorthodox choice’ for you, but a good choice nevertheless.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“So tell me?” he asked, “what’s your answer?”

Elain swallowed hard.

What was her answer?

“Yes,” she said clearly. 

Because there was only one answer for them. 

Elain Archeron loved Azriel Night. 

Loved him from the first time he showed up in her office, full of swagger and contempt. She loved him when he was rude to her. She loved him when he was kind. She loved him when he told her the names of the children he was going to have. The children that she’d give him. She loved him because he was loyal and true and good and no matter what, she knew that he’d love her with the same deranged passion until her dying days.

“Alright then,” he grinned. “Let’s get fucking married!”

He placed the ring on her finger and rose to his full height.

“Now, I have to change, pretty girl. I suggest you get your swollen puffy face under control–you don’t want to regret those wedding pictures later on.”

Elain stared at him.

“Are we really doing this now?” she whispered.

“Fuck yeah we are. But before anything happens, I need to talk to my pug.”

Elain straightened her dress, her hands shaking. 

“You gonna hyperventilate and freak out?” he asked seriously, unbuttoning his shirt.

Elain shook her head and then said, “No. Are you really going to marry me?”

He smiled and said,

“You know it, baby.”

She walked to the doors and opened them.

Everyone was there. Were they listening? She wouldn’t put it past them.

“Az!” Cassian yelled loudly. “May I remind you that you said that you wanted to marry a girl who knew how to bake. And Ellie knows how to bake! So technically, yours is a match baked in heaven!”

“For the love of god,” Nesta groaned.

Azriel was laughing.

“You are right! That’s why I am marrying her!”

Cassian’s roughly beautiful face broke into a wide smile.

“Ellie, you said yes?”

Elain extended her arm forward and showed off her new ring to everyone.

“I am happy for you, pumpkin,” her father stepped forward and threw herself in his arms with a sob.

“Now, don’t cry, sweetheart,” he stroked her head. “Rhysand has been kind enough to let me know that the thing is done. And here, I brought your mother’s veil, in case you wanted to wear it. Feyre didn’t get the chance, so I thought that maybe you’d like to.”

-

It's a light relief from a bad habit

It's my mother's cookin' when I can't have it

It's the last train home from the day trippin'

It's the place I know when I start slippin'

Darling, won't you take me home?

Send me shivers somewhere I used to go

Wrap my name across your mouth

When I let my feelings down

Darling, won't you take me home?

Yeah, won't you take me

Tell me, does your mother know? Oh

I still love you, head to toe, yeah

Like the back of my car on a sunny day

You're the song on the radio I never play

You're the words in my soul that I wanna say, yeah, I wanna say

So won't you make me stay?

‘Home’ was the song that Elain Archeron walked down the aisle to the man she loved.

He stood there, grinning, his arms thrown over the shoulders of his brother and his cousin, waiting for her at the end of the road.

She held her sisters’ hands, because for better or worse, they were there for her, come rain or shine. And there were no better people to bring her to her Azriel. 

Her father and Fenris walked ahead of the three sisters, with Piglet between them. 

If there was one creature who was giving Elain away, and trusting her to Azriel, it was Piglet. Her faithful companion. Her friend. Her protector. The one who had saved her just as much as she’d saved him. 

Elain was blinded by tears of happiness, but she’d noticed Lord and Lady Darling, and Dev, and some rough looking men, who she’d assumed were Azriel’s mates from days long gone, and there were his teammates in attendance as well. Her friends were there too, and somehow, she realised that she was always a foregone conclusion, and Azriel knew it. So he chanced inviting everyone to their wedding, because he knew that Elain belonged to him and would become his wife on this day. 

-

Every song that they had danced to was called ‘Home’. 

Their wedding song was ‘Home’ by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

“Home is wherever I'm with you,” Azriel whispered in her ear, holding her close to him. He kissed her head and added, “you haven’t stopped crying, you know.”

Elain craned her neck to look up at him and demanded, “kiss me right now!”

He laughed and pressed his lips to hers. It was a slow kiss, relaxed and leisurely. Like he had all the time in the world. And maybe he did.

“I am too happy,” she admitted, her hands wrapped tightly around his neck. “I am overwhelmed and I am too happy.”

“So I guess you did want to marry me?” he teased. 

“Pfff, not even a little!” she argued.

“Obviously.”

Feyre was dancing with Piglet and Fenris. And Dev, much to Cassian’s chagrin, somehow snatched Nesta into a dance. Rhysand had smooth, hip-thrusting moves which caught the eyes of every woman at the party. Too bad he only had eyes for Feyre. 

At that moment, Piglet jumped out of Feyre’s arms and trotted to the newlyweds.

He got up on his hind legs, swaying to the beat and asking to be picked up. Which is what Azriel did. He picked the pug up and pulled Elain closer, so the dog was between them.

“One minute you are asking for her number,” he muttered, “and then next minute, you are a dad to a spoiled dog you never asked for. And you are married.”

The gorgeous black-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to Azriel and Cassian was introduced to Elain as their mother. 

“Ohmygod,” Elain murmured, watching her father and her new mother-in-law dance rather affably, before they went to drink champagne and giggle.

“Ohmygod,” Azriel echoed, his eyes wide. 

“Are they,”

“Into each other?” he finished her thought. “Looks like it!”

Cassian descended upon the two of them, wrapping his massive arms around their shoulders and grinning like an idiot.

“Ma and your dad are getting it on!”

“They are not getting it on!” Elain gasped. 

“Ha! Looks like there will be a coupla wedding nights tonight,” he winked at them, and then rushed to sweep Nesta off her feet in a dance. She pushed him away a little, but then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. Cassian smiled and caged her in his embrace, holding her close.

“Treat my elske well, yeah, mate?” Fenris, tall and imposing, appeared at their side, and gave Azriel a measured look which hid a bit of a warning in it. “You got my first love to fall for you and marry you. But she will always be my first love.”

Instead of arguing or protesting, Azriel pulled Elain close to him, his hand resting on her hip, and extended his other hand to the blond man.

“I promise,” he said seriously.

“Good man. Now, did she tell you that you gotta take her surname now?” Fenris laughed, shaking Azriel’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder.

This was news to Azriel, who turned to look at Elain, confusion written on his face.

“Beautiful?”

She bit her lip and mumbled, “Ummm…well, yes. You have to. It’s, well,”

“I have to become a Mr. Archeron now? Since when?”

“Well, in my family, if a man is of lower rank, he takes the Archeron name…” she explained lamely.

“Well, newlyweds, I’ll let you sort it all out. Welcome to the family, Azriel,” Fenris smiled. “See you at Ascot! Oh yeah, did she tell you? You’ll need to participate in all the fun social events now. She used to drag me when her ginger wasn’t available. Now she has you, Mr. Azriel Archeron.”

“We have to discuss this Archeron thing,” Azriel said, as he watched Fenris greet a stunning woman with striking green eyes. “Can I hyphenate it at least?”

Elain nodded, “Yes. That's alright.”

“Well thank god for that.”

The wedding venue

-

By the end of the day, when Azriel and Elain left the Old Chelsea Town Hall, showered with flower petals, he not only had a new wife at his side, but also a new name.

And somehow, he didn’t mind it one bit. Especially because he shared the name with his son, and his wife. He figured he’d drop the surname of his hateful father, Singer, because he wasn't sure why he was still keeping it, and would make it official:

Azriel Archeron-Night

Elain Archeron-Night

Piglet Pinky Archeron-Night

Only Piglet was staying behind. He wasn’t thrilled. However, Azriel was pretty firm on this–Piglet needed to sit a few days out, while Azriel was going to make his new wife truly his. The things he was going to do to her did not include catering to Piglet’s many whims or waking up at 6:30 in the morning to take him out.

So Piglet was staying behind. 

At first, Feyre volunteered to take him, to which Rhys made horror eyes. His helpless and terrified gaze was caught by Sir Charles, and he beckoned Piglet to him.

“Do you want to stay with grandpa, big boy?”

Piglet considered and then gave an affirmative bark. Yes, he would stay with grandpa. He would like that very much. Because that meant pretty much unlimited snacks, running around in grandpa’s big house, long walks in the park behind the house, and he knew they’d be going to the Connaught Bar where grandpa liked to go every night for a drink, and where Piglet was allowed to sit quietly–which he did. 

“We’ll take care of him,” the lady told Azriel. 

The lady seemed nice, at least at first glance. Piglet would need to do more bonding and see how she was with snacks. But it looked like grandpa liked the lady, so Piglet was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Ma,” Azriel began, but Sir Charles interrupted him and said, “don’t worry about us, son. We’ll take care of the pooch. You take care of my girl.”

We.

Apparently, Sir Charles and Azriel’s mother were going to take care of Piglet together. Azriel wasn’t sure what was happening, but he overheard the man inviting her to Scott’s tomorrow night for dinner. Scott’s was on Sir Charler’s street–only a block away from where he lived. Would there be a…nightcap afterwards? Azriel shuddered. Life was stressful enough: he just got married, he was on the verge of winning the Premier League title with Arsenal, he needed to move house, and he likely was going to be selected for England’s National Team for the Euros in Germany come June. He really couldn’t think of his mother and his father-in-law getting hot-n-heavy in Sir Charles’s mansion. That was too much to take even for Azriel. He already felt like he was a walking heart attack waiting to happen. 

But at least Piglet was sorted out, even though Feyre promised (threatened) to take him to the park tomorrow for a ‘long walk’. Chances were that Feyre would be carrying Piglet through Kensington Palace Gardens herself on her ‘long walk’, but Azriel figured that that was between Piglet and Feyre.

-

Azriel helped Elain into the car, folded her train carefully onto the floor and then got in himself.

He’d left Dev to party and there was one of Lord Darling’s drivers waiting for them.

“Congratulations on your wedding Mr. and Mrs. Night,” the driver greeted them pleasantly. “Where to?”

Elain glanced at Azriel with gentle hope shining in her eyes and he said, “We live in Bloomsbury. Near Russell Square and the British Museum.”

“Certainly, sir,” the driver nodded and pulled away into traffic.

Elain threaded her arm through his and put her head on his shoulder.

“Alright, beautiful?” he asked.

She nodded wordlessly.

“Still happy?”

She nodded again and buried her face in his shoulder. Azriel reached and cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking her gently, before dropping lower and pulling her hair out of its bun. A thick lock curled around his finger and Elain sighed with relief, once the tightness in her scalp lightened. 

Azriel pulled his phone out, and then smiled to himself.

“What?” Elain finally asked, noticing his little smirk.

“Oh, I don’t know…it’s nothing,” he shrugged, but she knew that it wasn’t ‘nothing’.

“Tell meeee,” she whined and he laughed.

“Look,” he showed her the phone. “It started off with Crazy Pug Lady, then I changed it to Pretty Matchmaker,” he explained, as she watched him thumb through his contacts. “By November, it was Az’s Girl,” he chuckled, “and finally, the much maligned Mrs. Night,”

She blushed at that, but he tsked and muttered, 

“Time for one last change?”

She glanced at him quizzically, and then watched his fingers delete Mrs. Night. In turn, he typed a new contact: Wife.

Azriel had all kinds of plans for his wedding night. To say that he hadn’t thought about it–a lot–would be a gigantic lie. He thought about his wedding, and his wedding night all the time. Constantly. Because somehow, he knew that as bizarre as it was at this day and age, he’d have to marry Elain first, before having sex with her. And he was correct. Here he was, married. To the love of his life. His beautiful girl. His proper soulmate. 

What he didn’t expect was for Elain to take charge. 

Once the car pulled to the house and the driver opened the doors for Elain, Azriel rounded the boot and shushed the man to step aside. The driver wasn’t put off, but only smiled and let Azriel scoop Elain into his arms. He threw ‘’night’ to the driver and headed toward the white steps, bounding up pretty quickly. Good thing he thought to grab Elain’s purse on the way out, because otherwise, they’d be locked out right now and that didn’t bode well for the sucking and the fucking that was currently on his mind.

As soon as he opened the door and carried Elain across the threshold, she gently wrapped her arms around his neck and coaxed his face lower, so she could kiss him. Her little eager tongue slipped easily into his mouth and she kissed him hard, impatient hands tugging on his shirt.

None of that virginal, shy, timid behaviour that Azriel came to expect from Elain. He figured that he’d have to cajole and gently sway her into it, and he was prepared to do that. He was prepared to be slow and careful and romantic. He was prepared to worship her, lovingly lick her pussy and make sure that she was comfortable and cared for throughout.

But now, he was reconsidering things. Quickly.

Elain wasn’t acting timid or shy.

The way she was kissing him–possessively, hungrily, deeply, swiping her tongue into his mouth was anything but bashful.

Heat and sweat broke out all over his body, and he grew boiling hot under his suit and his famed self-control all but slipped and disintegrated right then, just as Elain pushed her hand under his shirt, pulling it out from under his trousers with feverish ferocity. 

“I need to see you,” she breathed heavily, “I need to see your body,” she demanded, touching him tentatively, and pressing her palm to his firm abdomen, her flesh hot against his own.

He smiled a smug sort of smile, watching her desperation, and how she trembled against his body.

“And you haven’t seen me naked yet,” he murmured into her panting, soft mouth. Elain stilled mid-kiss and then snorted a laugh. 

“Of course you would say that,” she dragged her nails over the back of his neck. “Is it an implication of the size of your cock?”

“Oh, baby, you know my cock is big,” he winked. “You had copped a feel a time or two,” he reminded her, before wrapping his fingers around her hand and whispering, “care to take this inside the house and not stand in the foyer?”

“So impatient, Mr. Archeron,” she stroked his stomach again, before proceeding to unbutton his shirt slowly. 

“Mrs. Night,” he said casually, watching her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, as she watched his body reveal itself to her, and his thumb skimmed over her bare collarbones. “You have no idea the kind of impatient I am right now. However, the kind of sex I want to have with you isn’t done against the wall of the house entrance next to the coat closet.”

To demonstrate, he leaned against her, pressing his pelvis into her belly, and showing her exactly how desperate he was for her.

“Impressed, sweetness?” he whispered into her ear, before nipping on the earlobe and flicking it with his tongue. 

She swallowed hard and looked up at him. A bit of her bravado had disappeared once she felt the heat of him and the overwhelming size of his 6”5 foot frame and the jumble of muscles that covered his body.

“I want to show you how good sex with a man can actually be. Sex with your husband,” he reminded her heatedly, as if she would forget. “Your Fenris was impressive and I am sure that he is hung like a stallion,”

Elain gasped and blushed profusely, which made Azriel smile. “But,” he continued, “you were young and inexperienced. And your subsequent blokes probably didn’t rock your world. But I am eager to show you, baby,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

She licked her lips and moaned, “show me then.”

“I will, sweetness. I will.”

Under her long skirt, Elain’s thighs fell apart around his own and he decided to offer her just a taste of what was about to come. So he shifted his leg until the upper part of his thigh pressed into her warmth. Grabbing her hands in his big one, he lifted her arms over her head and pinned her to the wall, and then lifted her skirt up and over her legs, so he could slot his leg in at a better angle.

Elain groaned, her eyes falling shut, her neck arching backwards.

She was hot and damp and he felt her through the material of his trouser, the soft folds parting for him, as he ground her down on his thigh. He dragged his tongue against the flushed skin of her throat, while he moved her hips against him, bucking her down and pushing hard. 

“That’s my girl,” he encouraged. “Rub that pussy over me. Get yourself nice and soaked for me.”

Unable to touch him, she writhed and moaned a long throaty moan, her hips gyrating on his leg, scooting in a way that allowed for the most amount of friction for her clit. 

“Oh god,” she cried out, “I am going to come.”

He nodded, urging her on, strangely proud of the fact that the first act that they experienced as husband and wife in their house was her orgasm. The thought was delicious.

“Two minutes of a bit of rubbing and you are coming already?” he teased. “I fucking can’t wait to do all the things to you.”

“You want my first orgasm to be in the foyer?” she moaned.

He shrugged. 

“I am not denying my wife any orgasms. Take what you need, my love. There are numerous ways that I can make you come. This is just an amuse bouche.”

He didn’t touch her with his fingers yet, but found the plain cotton knickers that she favoured and tugged them upwards, wedging them into her pussy. He sawed them back and forth over her clit, making her shudder and plead for relief. Her hips jerked and she stretched her arms tightly, trying to break free from his grip, which was impossible. But her breasts popped from under her dress and looked down at her, wantonly beautiful and on the edge of orgasm, Azriel couldn’t help but wince at the ache in his cock. He bit her neck sharply, his teeth skimming her pulsing vein.

“I’ve not seen your stunning orgasm face since December. I can’t wait to watch you again,” he grunted into her neck, “and I can’t wait to get inside of you and watch you as you clench my dick.”

Shaking and panting, she came quietly, but powerfully over his leg, her slim fingers squeezing his. 

“That’s my girl,” he kissed her cheeks, her nose, her mouth, “keep coming. You are so beautiful, it’s fucking with my head.”

“I…I’ve never seen you,” she breathed, riding out her climax, “never seen you come,”

“Well you will today,” he promised with a laugh and kissed her again.

“Please,” she murmured, voice almost pleading, her eyes hooded and warm, her cheeks hot. “I want to…”

Azriel felt his cock stir, scenting the heady whiff of her orgasm wafting between the two of them. Releasing her hands, he squeezed her jaw in his fingers and kissed her savagely, his other hand tangling with her unbound hair, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to grip all that gorgeous hair while he fucked her mouth and buried himself fully between those pink lips. He’d make her love it and she’d ask for more.

When he pulled away from her at last, panting for breath, she grunted, “we need to get upstairs”.

He nosed into her neck, murmuring, “you want to get fucked, baby?”

She nodded, clutching at his shoulders, while he caressed her thighs and then hoisted her up, grabbing her ass and giving it a hearty squeeze. Anal. Maybe not today, but eventually. Definitely. Though, considering how things were progressing so far, he wasn’t sure what the night would bring.

“Do you need a drink?” he asked, though he was heading upstairs as he spoke.

She smiled and shook her head. She didn’t need liquid courage. She needed him.

Looking at her, he couldn’t miss the heated look and the flushed cheeks and her messy hair that hung down his forearm.

“Yeah, no drink,” he muttered and she laughed.

“Maybe later,” she offered. “Once you’ve had your way with me.”

“Once I’ve had my way with you,” he promised savagely, “there won’t be any walking for you. For a while.”

“Okay, but please don’t cripple me with your dick,” she requested.

“I won’t, if you are going to be a good girl for me.”

She bit her lip prettily, looking sexy and fetching, and nodded, “I’ll be a good girl”.

He smiled, nodding to himself. 

Elain liked to submit. She was feisty enough in real life, successful, and in control. But she relinquished control when he was around–and he wasn’t sure whether she realised that or not. 

“And I will make you feel wonderful,” he promised, opening the door to her bedroom. Their bedroom, he supposed. Now, it was their bedroom. “And you will fall in love with me even more!”

“You are awfully sure of your magnificent prowess in the sheets,” she chuckled, but he kissed her along the jaw and smiled.

“I’ve got some experience,” he shrugged modestly. “And,” he set her down on the floor, and then reached behind her body, and tugged on the laces that kept her dress in place, “I am in love with you. Which makes me want to outperform myself. But now, I need to get you naked for me.”

He shifted the dress, loosening it around her body, and then pulled it down, and once it pooled around her feet, he offered her his hand in a most chivalrous manner and helped her step out of it. 

True to herself, she was wearing stockings with wide lace bands around her plump thighs and there was no way in hell that he was going to remove them. The knickers were plain white, with lace inserts and even from here, he could see that she was wet for him. Her full, round breasts were stuffed into a strapless bra, which he unclasped in one quick move, tossing it on the floor. It was a shame to watch her generous cleavage disappear, however, once he weighed the soft globes in his palms, he couldn’t think of anything else but watching how they swayed and moved with every touch, and how his thick brown fingers dug into the pale skin. He squeezed them, not gently, unable to help himself. Filling his hands with all that softness felt better than any drug–it was mesmerising to watch how he moulded her flesh to his liking, roughly thumbing her pink nipples, until she moaned a pathetic little ‘Azzzz…” She trembled with pleasure, her skin covered in goosebumps, her heart beating rapidly and loudly–he could see the blood rushing to the surface of her skin and colouring it a pretty pink.

He pulled her nipples hard, twisting them between his fingers, squeezing tightly until she whimpered in pain and gasped, balling her hands at her sides. 

“Oh, it hurts,” she breathed.

“I know,” he told her simply, twisting and pinching her nipples harder, watching them redden between his thumb and forefinger. “You can take it, sweetheart,”

She nodded, licking her lips again. 

After he nearly fisted her the first time, and he only stopped short of cramming his whole hand inside of her up to the wrist, Azriel learned that Elain liked some pain with her pleasure. She liked the discomfort. She wasn’t as vanilla as everyone'd assumed she was. And truthfully, after meeting Fenris, Azriel wasn’t surprised. The huge blond bloke was pretty as fuck, but there was something sordid lurking beneath the handsome visage. The man was into something hard, and Azriel was going to discover what it was later on. But Fenris took Elain’s virginity, and no matter what, he couldn’t have been all gentle and accommodating. It just wasn’t in him, because in Azriel’s case, it took one to know one. 

So, instead of easing his grip on her tits, he asked “more?”

And his good girl nodded and mouthed, “more”.

He pushed her against the wall, so there would be some support for her, and then squeezed her breasts together and dropped to his knees in front of her, bringing them to his mouth. He pulled her swollen nipples deep inside and gave them a rough, hearty suck. He watched her wince, when he worked his tongue and his lips over the puckered buds, biting them, and sucking ferociously, but she only whispered, “Oh, that’s good…Please, my love…”

Yeah she fucking loved it. 

“Hold them for me and feed me,” he grumbled an order and she hurried to squeeze her breasts together and hold them for him as an offering. He palmed her ample behind in his hands, massaging it slowly, enjoying the feel of her skin, the heaviness of her tits in his mouth, the nearness of her body. He dipped his fingertips into her crack and pulled her cheeks apart, slowly at first, and then harder, until he felt around her tiny hole and pressed his fingers around it, feeling how it stretched. 

He pulled his face away from her breasts and her wet nipples glistened next to his cheek. The breasts bounced, and he licked them, until they were wet with his saliva. 

“Baby, anybody fucked your ass?” he asked, knowing the answer in advance.

“Nooo,” she shook her head, glassy-eyed and perfect, panting softly, while he played with her little hole. 

“I’ll have to fuck it, you know that, right?” he said plainly. 

“Yes,” she agreed simply. “Today?”

“We’ll see how your pussy fares,” he rose to his feet, but didn’t release her ass from his grip. “If you can’t take anymore dick in there, you might have to take it in the bum.”

Her eyes lit up with some sort of unholy excitement at his proposal, and she whispered, “I want to be yours.”

“You are mine.”

“You said you’ll fuck all my holes,” she reminded him. “During your god awful proposal.”

He slapped her right ass cheek hard and warned, “keep on talking like that, and I’ll tear your pussy and you asshole.”

She laughed and then stood on her toes and kissed his mouth. 

“I want to see your cock,” she whispered into his lips, kissing him all over his face.

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his groin, letting her feel how hard he was for her.

She squeezed him through his trousers, running her hand up and down his length a few times, before he ordered, “On your knees, beautiful.”

She didn’t question the command, but lowered herself on her knees in front of him. Her knees were on the rug, but he stepped away from her, unbuttoning his trousers, while he grabbed a decorative pillow from the armchair. 

“I am not a monster,” he told her and tossed the pillow down on the floor. 

She sighed with relief and climbed on top of it, her posture relaxing instantly. 

He wasn’t a monster, but he also wanted her to spend a decent amount of time on her knees in front of him, and didn’t want her thinking of anything but his dick, and least of all not about knee pain. 

“Hands on your lap,” he instructed, and she obliged, placing her hands on her lap compliantly and waiting. He knew how to undress quickly, and therefore got rid of everything that he was wearing in less than a minute. Less than 30 seconds more like. 

His massive hand was squeezing the base of his shaft, and still, his cock loomed hard and proud at his navel.

Other than Fen’s, Elain had never found penises attractive. They were utilitarian at best, but mostly ugly and weird looking. 

Her husband’s cock literally made her mouth water.

She swallowed the excess of saliva, unable to tear her eyes from the huge pole that stood tall and thick, the cut of his V a visual guide to all that glory. 6”5, with a glorious dick. She was one absurdly lucky woman. Though the size of him gave her pause for a second. 

He must have noticed a flicker of trepidation on her face, when he came closer and lovingly stroked her head, and then her cheeks. 

“Do you like it, sweetness?”

“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “But…will it,”

“Fit?”

She nodded, nervously chewing the inside of her cheek.

Azriel scrunched his nose with annoyance. The idea that her previous lovers didn’t wait until she was ready and didn’t take their time to prepare her sufficiently kind of made him rage inside. Well endowed or no, she shouldn’t be concerned, or worse, frightened. He’d have to remedy that. A little pain with her pleasure was one thing, but this wouldn’t do.

“Ellie, who is made for me?” he asked, caressing her mouth with his fingers.

She blinked at him and whispered, “I am.”

“That’s right, pretty girl. You are. So you know I will fit like it’s my god given right. Because we were made for each other.”

“You are such a romantic,” she teased, relaxing in front of him.

“You wouldn’t be saying that when I am fucking your face,” he warned playfully.

“Still a romantic. I know you, Azriel. A man after my own heart.”

Before he could say anything, she opened her mouth for him.

God damn, his wife was perfect.

“No touching, unless I tell you,” he warned, and then rubbed the thick, smooth, pink head of his cock over her lips.

She didn’t move, remaining in the same position, hands folded on her lap.

But the moment he touched her face and her lips with his dick, she lurched to lick at it. 

He slapped her lips lightly, cautioning her, but she licked again, and he whacked his meaty shaft on her face again.

“I want it,” she whined, bouncing on her knees. 

“You are that hungry for cock?” he smirked, his chest expanding from sheer male pride that he was feeling right this moment.

“Please, Az,” she begged, eagerly lapping on the head, pushing the tip of her tongue into the little slit, smearing her lips with precum.

“Please, Az, what?”

“I need it in my mouth,” she pleaded. “I want to suck.”

He placed his hand on the back of her head and then urged his shaft inside her mouth.

“Since you asked so nicely, baby. Show your husband how sorry you are for being bad,” he pushed against her tongue, making her swallow him down. Her brows knitted in defiance, because she still didn’t think that she'd done anything wrong, but he wasn’t going to have this argument with her anymore. Today, his cock is not going to be loving. Today, it was going to be punishing. And maybe, once she learned her lesson, he’d give her loving.

He propped his hand against the wall, holding the back of her head with his other hand and pushed his cock deeper, not allowing her to pull back.

“Watch me as I fuck this bratty little mouth,” he said. “And remember every time you rejected me, turned me away, and argued with me.”

She glared at him, but took him without complaint, her heavy tits swaying with every shove of his cock. Her mouth felt heavenly–warm and wet, and she sucked him noisily and deeply, swallowing a little more with every push of his hips.

He stroked her hollowed cheeks, murmuring, “finally, my ornery girl, with a ring on her finger, my name next to hers, at my feet, her mouth full of my cock. Are you feeling contrite?”

She shook her head no, watching him brazenly with her watery eyes.

He sighed a heavy sigh and said, “Okay. I guess I’ll have to fuck you until you cry.”

And he did. 

He was merciless. 

Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she panted and dug her nails into her knees, moaning over his dick loudly. 

God. There was so much. He was so fucking big. She was feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, her mouth absolutely ravaged by the girth of him. Her throat hurt, because while he didn’t force himself down into her, he pushed steadily, deeper and deeper. 

“Good fucking girl,” he praised. “Are you tired?”

She was, but she wasn’t going to stop. So she shook her head no. She was going to suck for as long as he wanted her to. Because perhaps, she was feeling contrite. Maybe she was sorry. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

He tsked in warning when she grabbed onto his thighs, squeezing them for purchase. 

“Did I say you can touch?” he gave her a disappointed look, and then pressed his cock deeper. She panicked and cried out, but he stroked her head and whispered, “you are okay. Breathe, breathe,” which she did, panting nervously through her nose. “It feels really good when you gag, sweetness. So I am going to choke you, but hold on to me, so I can feel how you are doing.”

He pulled her head back, holding it tightly in his palm and then stepped over her and pushed his shaft deep. She gagged desperately, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, especially when she looked at his blissed out expression and heard him muttering, “fuck it’s good…oh fuck, fuck…” She loved him and wanted to give him pleasure, and if this is what he enjoyed, then she was going to accommodate him. 

She stroked his firm, muscular ass–the thing could probably crack a handful of walnuts all at once. While he continued to fuck her mouth, she gently tiptoed her fingers closer to his hole and pressed on it. He stiffened between her lips and looked down. She looked for approval and he smiled at her, “Fuck, you look gorgeous. My dick in your mouth is exactly where it belongs.” He wiped her tears and told her, “suck me off, sweetness. Show me how hard you’ll work for me.”

The pressure on her skull finally eased and she was able to swallow him deeply and began sucking, bobbing her head on him. He grunted above her with enjoyment, and rasped quietly, “dip your pretty fingers in your pussy.”

She scrambled to obey, and smeared her fingers with her wetness.

“You know what to do,” he said then, waiting. She did. She wasn’t sure if he was into it, but apparently he was. Without breaking her steady rhythm, she parted his cheeks and carefully pressed her wet fingers inside of him. He tensed, as she worked them deeper inside and she noticed the whiteness of his knuckles. He was holding on by a thread. And Elain was very pleased. Because she did this. She drove him to the brink and it was clear that he was just about losing his mind. She pumped him firmly, sucking on his cock, and finding the spot inside of him which made him shudder and moan. He wasn’t particularly vocal in bed, but this stimulation unleashed him and his hips buckled against her. He wanted to last longer, but he knew that the future was bright and he could indulge in this play as frequently as he wanted. Thank fuck.

So he thrust hard down her throat and ground out, “choke”. The added vibrations inside her gurgling throat brought him over the edge and he came so hard, he was afraid he was going to black out. His new wife with his dick in her mouth, and he, unconscious on the floor. Whatta wedding night…afternoon.

He watched her suck on him, her throat contracting as she swallowed. “Show me,” he asked and she opened her mouth and showed him her cum-stained tongue. 

“My good girl. Swallow everything,” he urged unnecessarily. Of course she was going to swallow everything. “Holy shit, you are brilliant,” he vowed, caressing and stroking her. 

She smiled at him and he gave her his arm, lifting her off the floor.

“This was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he admitted.

She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and smirked, “I am glad you liked it, husband.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips to hers.

“Say it again,” he hissed, almost crushing her against his chest. 

“I am glad,”

“No not that!”

“That you liked it?” she teased.

“Wife!”

“Yes, husband?”

“That’s better.”

He pushed her towards the bed and then tossed her on it unceremoniously.

“I need to eat your pussy, or I will die,” he declared dramatically.

“Die?”

“Do you want to be a widow?”

She frowned at his words and then smacked his shoulder. 

“If you don’t stop saying stupid things, I will kick you in the dick!” she threatened.

“Sorry baby,” 

He lay her on the bed and kissed her belly.

“See, this is me being contrite,” he told her, sliding her damp panties down her legs and leaving her naked except for her stockings. He placed an open mouth kiss right on her bare slit and dragged his tongue from her back hole to her clit. “Do you want to try it?” he offered. “It’s easy.”

“I am not sorry!” she told him stubbornly, grabbing the plush duvet in her fists and arching her back for him.

He pushed her knees apart, almost pressing them to the bed and kissed her pussy again.

“Spread yourself for me,” he requested, his breath fanning over her damp skin.

She blushed, which was kind of silly, because she was laid out in front of him bare and spread, but this somehow, was too much.

“You just spent twenty minutes being gagged with my dick in your throat, and now you are shy?” he cocked his brow at her.

She bit her lip, but wordlessly spread herself, pulling her folds far apart and exposing herself completely.

“That’s right, beautiful,” he moaned, “that’s perfect. No secrets between us. Nothing unsaid. Nothing unseen. You are mine and I am yours. The way it should be.”

“Az,” she breathed, feeling vulnerable and uncovered, and yet, trusting him for some reason. He might not deserve her trust, not yet, not everything that he’s pulled, but she couldn’t help it. At the end of the day, he did right by her. Married her. Trusted her. 

He tongued her clit steadily and it felt amazing, but she looked down at him and whispered, 

“Az, I know you will die if you don’t eat my pussy,” she laughed softly.

“Yeah,” he concurred, slurping her down.

“But I need you inside of me. Please. I want to be your wife in every sense of the word. I’ve waited for so long for you. And now you are here. And I can’t wait anymore.”

He sat back on his hunches and his thumb replaced his tongue, as he looked at her from between her legs.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. 

“You think you are ready?”

“I’ve been ready since before Halloween,” she chuckled.

He grabbed his cock and gave it a few long, leisurely strokes, while she watched him with desperate hunger in her eyes.

“I want you inside of me,” she begged softly. He crawled over her and squeezed her throat gently, before kissing her deeply.

“Anything you want, my love. Anything for my wife.”

He licked her soft breasts and then lightly slapped them with his dick, poking her nipple with its blunt head. He lifted her breast up and said, “suck” and she licked on her own nipple, craning her head down. He pushed the cockhead inside, and closed his hand over her chin, making her suck both her nipple and the tip of his cock. 

“Good girl,” was all he said, watching her with a blazing gaze of absolute devotion. “The things we’ll do together,” he added dreamily. His imagination had no bounds when he thought of his wife and their sex life.

She popped her nipple and his cock out of her mouth and kissed the tip, saying, “take me, husband”.

It was an invitation that Azriel couldn’t resist.

He rubbed himself briefly and then kissed her lips slowly.

“I will go slow, beautiful. You are probably tight as fuck, so I want to make this count, and I want to make this last, alright?”

“Yes, Az, I want you so much I feel like I am going to burst,” she complained.

He pressed against her, rubbing his shaft in her slick, before sliding slowly inside.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, almost in surprise? “Oh…tight…”

Tight didn’t even begin to describe how incredible she felt. 

He seriously considered the possibility that he was going to blow his load before he was even fully inside of her. And that’s despite having come only ten minutes ago. Jesus fuck.

The blissful tightness was indescribable, and he shuddered like a dog, trying to pace himself.

Her nose was scrunched and she scowled adorably, before he stopped, allowing her time to get acquainted with the sensation and kissed her lovingly.

“You are amazing, Ellie. How are you doing?”

“You are huge!” she blurted out and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, sweetness. Nothing I can do about that. Does it hurt?”

“It’s so fucking tight!”

“You are telling me!” he smiled, but then lay his palm on her stomach and stroked her lightly.

“Look at me,” he ordered, “and relax. You are tensing up. I am yours, beautiful. No need to be nervous.”

She exhaled heavily, following his instruction, and attempting to ease against him. He was insanely hot and thick, and despite the pressure, he felt mind-numbingly good. Her walls stretched, as he pushed his way in, and when he pushed his hand onto her mound and pressed his thumb to her clit, she moaned with pleasure.

“That’s right, sweetness,” he urged her on. “Pussy was made to please me.”

He sank deeper and deeper, pressing forward firmly, but without aggression. “Open up for me, Ellie.”

She helped him out, lowering her hips down onto him, panting loudly, while he rubbed her clit and finally bottomed out. His balls pressed to her ass and the entirety of his enormous shaft was lodged inside. 

She closed her eyes, and expelled a tortured, deep moan of pleasure.

“Finally in you, my Elain,” he breathed, cupping her face in his hand. “My god.”

“Finally in me,” she echoed him. “I love it. I love it so much.”

He fucked her then. Not fast, but driving each thrust hard into her. His hand was on her face, the scarred, uneven surface of his fingers tracing the hollow of her cheek. He touched her face, her lips, until he wrapped his arm around her head, holding her in the crook of his elbow. He watched her let go then, and become focussed only on that moment. The heaviness of him, the weight of his muscles and bones, and the heat of his skin, the pressure of his fingers on her hip, as he dug deep into her skin, and the sensation of his shaft filling her seemed to be the only things that mattered to her in that moment. 

“Make me feel like you’ll never let me go,” she moaned.

“I will never let you go,” he promised.

Shifting her hips on his cock, he made her groan, as she clawed at his bicep, because he hit that spot. And it seemed like no one else’s done this before, judging by the awed expression on her face. 

“You like that?” he smiled, kissing her and thrusting hard. 

“You are so deep,” she gushed. “The deepest.”

“I should hope so. I do have a long dick.”

But he looked prideful and satisfied by her comment. 

He picked up the pace then, driving into her smoothly and with single-minded intent. Her stocking-clad legs wanted to wrap around him, but he preferred to keep her open, so he could watch his dark shaft slide in and out of her pinkiness. He threw her knees over his elbows, keeping her nice and pliant and loose. 

It felt good. 

Just fucking her like this. Nice and deep and steady. 

He could enjoy the moment, watching her beautiful face, her messy hair, her breasts which jumped and bounced steadily from his thrusts. 

Their bodies slapped and rubbed together, and he loved the sexual sounds that they were making together. She bowed beneath him, arms thrown above her head, grabbing the edge of the pillow, eyes closed. 

“Do you want me to play with your clit?” he offered but she shook her head and said, 

“No. Just keep going like this. It’s too good. I never want it to stop.”

Ditto.

Azriel. Her husband. Her love. Her dream. Her forever. 

She didn’t want to come, but she couldn't stop the tidal wave of pleasure engulfing her.

He caught on to that and pulled himself higher, grabbing the padded headboard with his left hand, and gaining more leverage. His hips drove into her with increased speed, though he didn’t break his rhythm. 

“Az,” she whispered his name and he tucked his face against her cheek, listening to her laboured breathing, wanting to hear her say it again. And again. 

“My Az,” she repeated softly, worshipfully. “My husband.”

“Yours, Elain. Always yours.”

He felt when she came for him, her tightness squeezing over him, drinking from him, pulling him deeper. Her arm fell over his shoulders, holding him to her. 

Her muscles were still quaking, when he released a pleasured moan, enjoying her complete disintegration beneath him, while he found his own climax and came hard and deep inside of her. They were both bare to each other–soul and cock and cunt. 

He wasn’t ready to think about children yet, but he wouldn’t have minded if the outcome would result in a baby. If his seed found the way, then so be it.

He kissed her slowly, still spasming inside of her, his pelvis nestled next to hers. 

“I love you, beautiful,” he whispered, throwing her leg over his hip and keeping his spent cock inside.

When he looked at her, he saw that she was in tears.

“Oh my god, Ellie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked in a panic.

She held onto him and said, tears rolling down her cheeks,

“I am in love with you.”

Relief flooded him, but he only stroked her face and said, “I am in love with you too.”

-

Behind the windows, the sun was setting.

London.

A black pearl of a city surrounded by the brightest green of emeralds, cut in half by the cobalt ribbon of the Thames. 

London.

Not agreeable. Not easy. Not forgettable. Always magnificent.

London. Where a bad day is still better than most good days anywhere else.

London. Where dreams are made and crushed, where surprising matches are made in the convoluted and circuitous corners, where a footballer and a Lady can find their own heaven.

London was home.

-

“You. It was always you. Even before I knew you. It was you when I first heard your voice. It was you when I saw your face. It was you that I had asked about, when I asked the eternal question–is this love? And the answer was yes. It’s love. And the one that I love is you.”

[dragongodryss]

The knight and the dragon

(Stingue centric) (Warning: (Long( 16'000+Words)))

Incorporates the following prompts: Cursed, Impossible Quest, Abandoned Child and Forbidden Love.

Once upon a time, there lived a knight, Sir Sting Eucliffe by name. Though he was well liked by the common folk for his radiant self confidence and easygoing demeanor, his peers despised him for his arrogance and strange origins. Not that he would ever care.

He'd been abandoned, left as an infant at the order's door, and taken in by the knights of the Dawn Order. From a young age, many had taken notice of his talents. Some whispered vicious rumors in envious tones, whilst others sought to groom him into the perfect weapon, to be used for their machinations. Sir Eucliffe was well aware of that, for he was no fool, and so he hardened his heart and carried on.

To the common folk, he was quite the hero, defeating monsters, witches and bandits alike with ruthless efficiency, a confident smile on his face as he fought alone. No one would fight beside him, they all considered it beneath their station. With no one to turn to, all Sir Eucliffe had to rely on were himself and his skills. That was plenty, he told himself. More than those weak willed mongrels that boasted themselves to be knights would ever have.

To the knights, he was an arrogant fool who had rejected the gods themselves, who had only gotten away with it because he was the cruel and corrupt commander's prized weapon. Needless to say, there was no love between Sir Eucliffe and the knights of the Dawn Order. And so, for years to come, Sir Eucliffe of the Dawn Order fought alone, amongst cheers of hollow praise and whispers of jealous hatred.

When he had reached his twentieth year, or thereabouts, he had developed a reputation among the knights for being quick to draw his blade and slow to forgive. That meaning that he had yet to forgive any transgression against him. By that point, some had come to miss the mischievous yet kind and hopeful child he had once been, but it was too late.

Slowly, stories of his many duels had reached to common folk that had once loved him so, and as they found their way back to his ears, he grew enraged. But still, he fought on, further hardening his heart as the only source of warmth in his life started to fade. His light burned on, as cold as the ghost lights that haunted the moors. Present, if only as a cruel mockery of the warmth he once held.

The day the commander fell, all expected Sir Eucliffe to fall with him, and he would have, if not for the king's intervention. Never one to pass up the opportunity to appear benevolent, he offered the fallen knight a chance to redeem himself.

Deep in the mountains, far beyond where any sane traveler would ever venture, a toddler lay crying, deep in a cold dark cave. 'Monster', they had called him as they had dragged him out there, for the simple crime of being cursed by a witch, for the sins of his parents, no less. Not that he understood, not yet.

They had been scared to kill him anywhere near home, for fear that he would return to haunt them, and thus had taken him high up into the mountains, where no one would come across his vengeful spirit. As fate would have it, he wasn't alone, and the voice coming from deep within the darkness started to soothe the crying toddler, offering him his life for his company. Of course it was not so simple, but the child would have done anything to not be alone, for the voice to stay. It was no price to offer the shadow his company, not when he had nowhere else to go. Unlike him, however, the shadow wanted vengeance for the betrayal he had suffered, no matter that it had taken place centuries prior.

Over a few years, the nameless child, with the shadow's help, learned read and write and hunt and gather and make medicines. But slowly, his curse began to rear its ugly head as the small patch of glossy black scales on his hand began to spread up his arm. It was a good thing, the shadow assured him. Harnessed properly, it would give him power. And so the child began to exert control over the curse, learning to force it to turn his fingers into razor sharp claws or to retract back into the small patch of scales.

On his tenth year, or thereabouts, he ventured from the mountains with the medicines he'd made, to find more people at the shadow's behest. He didn't understand why; As far as he'd known, they'd been happy. They'd had everything they needed. But when he finally set eyes on the village, the scent of warm bread filling his nose, he understood, or at least he believed he did. It was busy, but absolutely captivating. His scales covered, he made his way into the settlement, returning the strange looks he received with a silent, wide-eyed stare.

For a couple of weeks, he found refuge in the stables, until one day, a stable hand came across the sleeping child and saw the scales on his hand. Once again, the child heard that nigh-forgotten word: 'Monster'. Never again would he forget it. Many words clung to his mind like the cobwebs that littered the mountain caves, but none like 'Rogue'. The tale repeated itself on occasion, with the shadow's whispers becoming ever darker as he encouraged Rogue to try again and again.

Every time he was rejected by a new village, Rogue fled to the mountains. Every time he was forced to use his magic to defend himself, the scales spread a little further, until the transformation reached his lungs. He was maybe fifteen when it happened, the townsfolk's violence, his growing curse and the shadow's whispers finally getting to him, and all his pain flowed out into a river of darkness pouring from his mouth as he screamed in frustration. As he blinked to awareness, he took in the destruction, the crumbling walls, the shallowly breathing forms of the villagers that had so viciously attacked him.

"Finish them."

The coldness in the shadow's voice snapped Rogue to awareness and he turned to flee when something caught his attention. He was on all fours, his back arched, looking at the small villagers. He looked down at his feet, no, his hands, to find scaly claws digging into the ground. In panic, he jumped back, feeling a surge of pain in a limb he was sure hadn't existed before. He'd hit a house, but with what? He tried to move the limb to find his feet lifting from the ground and flapped his newfound wings once more, soaring into the skies back into the mountains. Only there did he force his body to return to human form.

From that day on, knights and adventurers alike ventured into Rogue's mountains. Frequently, he moved deeper into the mountains, away from the hunters, and away from the shadow, who had once been his only friend. But though he could outrun the hunters, he could never escape the deal he had made that fateful day, deep in the mountains. Never again, he vowed, would he seek out another human.

But his heart was stronger than his mind and his honor combined, for many times he broke that vow. Every time he found one of pursuers injured by the many peril the treacherous mountains his, he turned back to heal them. It was his fault that they were there in the first place. Their lives would be on his hands.

As though they were the plague, Rogue avoided using his powers, for fear that he couldn't turn back to being human. Though the hunters never found their dragon, rumors of a mountain witch started to spread, and many would feign injuries to lure him out. But in spite of the shadow's warnings, Rogue would still go check. What else could he do? What if he let someone who needed help die for fear of his own death?

Sir Eucliffe pondered the impossible tasks set by the king, wondering if it would not be better to die with honor. Retrieve the Heart of the Northern Skies, an ancient gem with the power to grant wishes, lost generations ago, slay the dragon of the Traitors' Mounts and capture the mountain witch and bring him before the king. Any one of these tasks would difficult for a group, but for one man, it was an impossible task.

But Sir Eucliffe would not back down. And as such, he announced his decision to the king and made his way to the mountains, to hunt down the elusive witch.

Cold glares followed him in every town he passed through, but he dismissed them with a bright smile and mocking wave. Perhaps it would have been easier on his heart to avoid settlements when possible, but Sir Eucliffe was a tenacious man, and so he kept his head held high. After two days, he reached his first destination, the home of two of the hunters, one of whom was said to have encountered the witch.

He knocked on their door, loudly and firmly, unwilling to suffer a refusal. Fortunately for everyone involved, a woman, with a jagged scar running from her jaw to her chest, opened the door. Her eyes darkened when she saw the knight, but he entered without a greeting and sat down at her table.

"You are the one who came across the mountain witch, are you not?" He asked flippantly as the woman reached for what he presumed was a weapon. She nodded grimly, closing the door.

"What does that have to do with you?" She growled, moving toward the door on the other side of the room and gripping her weapon. Someone had to be behind there, someone she wanted to protect. Sir Eucliffe couldn't ever have imagined what that felt like.

"The king has tasked me with capturing the witch. That is all that you need to know. Now will you hinder me, knowing I come on behalf of the crown, or will you do your duty to your kingdom?" He asked coldly, all semblance of friendliness gone like the wind. The woman's face set in grim determination, but she called to someone beyond the door. Someone stirred within, carefully making their way toward them. A man, sporting a mangled leg, limped through the doorway, supported by a rough crutch. Fearless, he sat in the seat opposite the fallen knight, his wife standing protectively beside him. Sir Eucliffe repeated his questions.

"Indeed. I was caught in a rock slide as Karina and I were hunting down the dragon, and we got separated. I shouted for help, but with all the wind, I feared that the gods themselves wouldn't have heard me. And yet here he was. A young man, probably about your age now, sliding down the cliff so gracefully that I mistook him for an angel, until I saw his eyes. No angel would have eyes like that. No human either, for that matter. I still dream about them, you know. He couldn't have heard me calling, I tell you! He must have conjured that rock slide himself to trick me. I very nearly fell for it, you know. He pulled the rocks off me as though they were but pillows, but he was smaller than me. Than I am now! Taller than you, mind. He could never have lifted all those rocks so easily, not without magic!" The man rambled. He was a fairly skinny man, about a head shorter than Sir Eucliffe.

"And then? What did the witch do?" The knight interrupted.

"I was just getting there. He pulled out some potions and started healing my wound. Then he just left. Disappeared. Karina arrived a few minutes later. And you know the crazy thing? All the other sightings are the same. Severe injury, the witch appears and leaves just before backup comes. And he'll come even if you just pretend, or so I heard, but only if you're alone. The minute before backup shows, he'll be gone."

"Good thing I'm going alone then."

With those words, he left the village, making his way to the mountains. His sharp eyes, rivaled only by his blade, watched the skies. With his luck, he couldn't rule out that the dragon wouldn't strike while he was distracted.

After a week of traveling, Sir Eucliffe prepared to set a trap for the witch, with little hope that it would succeed. It was hardly a refined trap, merely designed to test the limits of the witch's abilities. Sir Eucliffe would stage a fall, leaving his sword just out of reach, and if the witch appeared, the knight would strike him with a poisoned dagger. The place was isolated, he would see the witch coming from afar.

However, in his plan, there was but one hitch: The ledge from which he would stage his fall was but an arm's length away from the nest of a griffon! Barely concealed by the jutting rocks, it had avoided Sir Eucliffe's attention. As such, when he climbed the ledge, about to 'slip', the griffon struck him from behind. His sword, which he had rigged to fall out of reach, did just that.

His options were to use his dagger, which he had concealed from the witch so far, or kill the griffon with his bare hands. Ever the valiant knight, Sir Eucliffe seized the griffon by the throat, pressing his thumbs into its windpipe. For a few agonizing minutes, he held on, despite the panicked monster's struggles, until it fell from the air into the valley below, far further than Sir Eucliffe had anticipated. With great dexterity, he maneuvered himself to fall onto it, breaking his fall.

Then he lay, with bated breath, at the bottom of the valley, hoping that the ordeal hadn't been for naught. Luck was with him that day, as the witch appeared not an hour later, trotting cautiously towards the fallen knight. "Another?" The breeze carried his tired whisper as he slowed to a walk.

"Please... Help me..." Sir Eucliffe begged, though he was unharmed. The witch closed the distance, kneeling an arm's length from him.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked softly, as though speaking to a frightened child. Sir Eucliffe resented it. The witch's eyes swept over him, and could see what the former hunter had meant. Those captivating red eyes could bewitch any who looked upon them. Such was not an angel's power. His mark's face was gaunt, and his eyes were sunken, almost overshadowed by the dark circles around them. Sir Eucliffe thought that would serve to make anyone else less attractive, but it only made him wonder what could possibly have caused him to look like that. Finally, he realized that the witch was expecting an answer.

"My...my back. And my shoulder. The right one." He cursed himself for getting caught in the witch's spell. He had been the kingdom's greatest knight! Shame crept over him.

"Can I take a look?" The witch asked. What did he think Sir Eucliffe expected him to do? "I mean, because of your armor. I can't check with your armor on." Some witch he was.

"You may." Sir Eucliffe agreed. The witch shuffled over, trying to make sense of the knight's pauldrons and how to remove them. It didn't help that Sir Eucliffe was lying on his supposedly injured shoulder. Perhaps he could stab him now, but he wanted to give the witch a chance to let his guard down first. Finally, the witch sighed.

"I didn't want to do this before knowing how grievous your wounds were, but I don't suppose we have a choice. I'll have to move you." The witch paused, waiting for Sir Eucliffe's assent. The knight nodded slowly, his back was supposed to be injured after all. "This will probably hurt. I could give you something for the pain, but it will make it harder to find what's wrong. It is your choice." The witch kept his voice low, but even then, it was bewitching. If this was how he spoke, Sir Eucliffe feared to hear him sing.

"I'm strong. I'll do without." The first part had been an affirmation to himself more than an answer. But it was the right choice. Who knew what side effects the potion would have?

Carefully, the witch snaked a hand under the knight before lifting Sir Eucliffe's left arm over his shoulder, preparing to pick him up. As the witch started to pull, with a gentle strength Sir Eucliffe hadn't anticipated despite the hunter's warnings, their chests connected, and Sir Eucliffe wondered when the last time he had been held was.

The dagger was in his left bracer, his left arm conveniently at the witch's back. The knight shoved down his sentimental side, which had to have come from the witch's magic anyway, and struck. He felt the weapon slide smoothly into the witch's lower back, prompting a cry of shock from the witch. Sir Eucliffe braced himself to be dropped as he roughly pulled out the dagger, but even as the witch crumpled to his knees, he didn't drop the knight. Worried, Sir Eucliffe contemplated stabbing him again, not wanting the witch's strength to be turned against him. It didn't come to that, as the witch carefully placed him against the griffons cooling body and staggered back. It seemed like the poison wasn't working, Sir Eucliffe noted for future reference.

Lifeless red eyes met Sir Eucliffe's cold blue ones. No surprise could be found the witch's face, only disappointment.

He dropped his bag of potions within reach of the knight and staggered away into the bushes, away from this newest betrayal. It was foolish, Rogue knew, to hope that things would be different every time he met a new person. In his defense, however, victims of legitimate accidents were usually less likely to try to kill him and any who did end up attacking usually did so a lot sooner, as soon as he came into range. His shadow mocked him once again, as always when he was betrayed, but Rogue could barely hear it. Could only register the ground approaching at frightening speeds. Had the dagger been poisoned? As his limbs grew ever heavier, Rogue concluded that the answer was yes.

So this was how he would die. A raindrop narrowly missed his eye as the rain he'd been looking forward to since that morning finally came.

Sir Eucliffe looked through the bag, filled with potions and medical supplies. The witch had made the effort of labeling the potions and had clearly made the conscious choice of leaving the bag with him. Not for the first time, the knight was starting to suspect. Thud. Sir Eucliffe looked up in the direction of the sound, where the witch had gone. Gingerly, he got to his feet, picked up the bag of medicine and followed the witch's path as it started to rain.

The rain had started pouring in the short minute it had taken him to reach the witch, who appeared to have succumbed to the poison. He was still conscious, at least somewhat. The side of his face that was visible was wet with rain, his hair and clothes already drenched. Though he lay still, Sir Eucliffe could see the fear in his eye. The knight looked around for a dry place to hide and wait out the rain. His eyes fell on a small cave nearby and he gritted his teeth, preparing to carry the witch there. Because he needed him alive. For no other reason.

To Rogue's surprise, the knight picked him up and started to walk away. Didn't he know that it was dangerous to travel in this weather? Rogue tried to tell him, but he could not make his tongue cooperate. Fortunately, the knight stopped soon after, putting him down on the rocky floor of a shallow cave. Then he started rummaging in his backpack out of Rogue's sight. Desperately, Rogue tried to turn his head to look, but he couldn't move. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy and fought to at least control them. He couldn't fall asleep now. In a frantic attempt to free himself, Rogue called upon his curse, scared of the knight's silence.

Wings burst from his back, tearing his shirt and painfully colliding with the cave wall. Thanks to them, he got to his feet, but those couldn't hold him.

Sir Eucliffe spun around as he heard something hit the wall, just in time to see the witch fall to the ground. He tried to lift himself up by his draconic wings, but he seemed to have less control over them with every moment that passed. In his addled state, the witch still seemed to realize it. In but a second, the wings folded in on themselves and disappeared, leaving the witch to collapse miserably onto the floor.

Sir Eucliffe grabbed the rope he'd been looking for and made his way to the witch, dragging him to the wall once more, below one of the roots partially protruding from the deepest wall of the cave, far from the rain. He looped the rope around the root and started to bind the witch's wrists together, all the while contemplating the implications of the draconic wings. As he worked on securing the restraints, the witch's sleeve fell back to reveal glossy, obsidian scales. Sir Eucliffe ran his finger over them, marveling at how smooth they were. The witch's hand twitched, as though he had tried to pull his hand away, and the knight turned to see that he was still stubbornly clinging to consciousness. He took his hand away from the scales and got up to set up camp. They weren't going anywhere tonight.

The witch had finally gone to sleep, slumped against the wall. He was turned towards Sir Eucliffe, reproachful even in his sleep. If Sir Eucliffe was right, and he was sure he was, the dragon and the witch were one and the same. Problem was, he needed one dead, and one alive. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. Now all he needed was to find the Heart of the Northern Skies, a gem lost for centuries. Daunting as defeating a witch and a dragon seemed, the task he'd feared most was this one, the one he'd left for last. Where could he even start?

He'd heard rumors of a seer on the other side of the mountains, perhaps he could start there. But for now, he needed to perform a little magic of his own. He looked at the enchanted cuffs in his hands, recalling the ritual. Draw blood from himself and the witch, pour it on the cuffs, then cuff the witch. If it worked, it would bind the witch to him, preventing him from going further than Sir Eucliffe allowed and, more importantly, from using magic. The king had lent them to him for the purpose of bringing the witch back, like a trophy of sorts. Though disgusted by the idea, the knight started the ritual. His life depended on this mission. Meticulously, he cleaned the dagger of any traces of poison before drawing blood from himself, before suddenly remembering the stab wound that he had given the witch. He took some blood from the wound, smearing the cuffs. They started to glow red, absorbing the blood. After untying the witch, Sir Eucliffe cuffed him, before carrying him to the open bedroll. He laid the witch down on his stomach before cleaning his wound. Removing the tattered shirt, he saw scars, many of them. Not from weapons, or at least not from things intended as weapons. If he had to guess, the two round scars, one on his arm and one on his lower back, had come from a pitchfork, several years ago. The slashes had probably come from a bullwhip, Sir Eucliffe thought, tracing them. They were also old, likely sustained during childhood. Feeling sick to his stomach, Sir Eucliffe wrapped the knife wound before wrapping the witch in his blanket and tucking him into the bedroll.

The knight removed his armor before sifting through his supplies for food. As he ate, he watched the witch. What was his name?

After a couple of hours, the witch started to stir, but stayed asleep for the moment. Sir Eucliffe wondered if he should wake him to offer him some food. Looking at the shadows under his eyes, he decided against it.

Rogue felt warm. Warmer that he had in a while. He wanted to go back to sleep, but the memories from before he had fallen unconscious started flooding back. Warily, he opened his eyes. He was lying face down on... was it a bed? He wasn't sure. Gingerly, he sat up, or at least tried to, until a sharp pain shot through his back. Gritting his teeth, he tried again, more slowly this time. The cold air bit at his exposed back, and the resulting shiver made his arms give way. An arm snaked around his chest before he could fall down again, lowering him gently back into the bed. Rogue turned his head.

The knight was crouched beside him, a look of concern on his face. "Stay still. You've torn your wound open." He told Rogue firmly. Rogue froze, abruptly aware that the scales on his arm were in plain sight. Had the knight noticed them?

Sir Eucliffe worked on wrapping the wound again. He felt the witch's heartbeat quicken and tried to work more gently. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed the witch's arm move, then felt him wince beneath his hands. Firmly, he took hold of the witch's arm, stilling it. "You'll hurt yourself."

Rogue was tempted to ask why the knight cared. It wasn't as though he had stabbed himself. More worryingly, the knight's hand was on his scales, though he had yet to comment on them. "Let me go." He ordered, as menacingly as possible.

"I'll get off you when I've finished taking care of your wound." The knight told him, but let go of his arm. Once again, Rogue tried to hide it under the blanket. He was already a witch to the knight, no need to appear a monster. Suddenly, he froze, remembering his attempt at escape before passing out. The knight had seen his wings! Then why was he taking care of Rogue now? "I know you're cold, but I'll only take a minute." The knight promised. Now that he mentioned it, Rogue was cold.

Once the knight had finished, he put one of his hands under Rogue's shoulder and put the other around his waist, carefully turning him around. Rogue hissed at the unexpected touch, but the knight carefully put him down and pulled the blanket back over him before moving away.

Sir Eucliffe pulled the food out of his bag before returning to the witch, who was warily watching him. "You must be starving. Help yourself." He handed the witch the food. Hesitantly, the witch took it from him, not taking his eyes off him as he started to eat. "My name is Sting Eucliffe. What's yours?" The witch swallowed his mouthful before answering.

"Rogue, I suppose." He said. He took another bite of the dried beef, still watching Sir Eucliffe. The knight sat down beside him, meeting his reproachful eyes.

"Please to make your acquaintance, Rogue." Sir Eucliffe said, desperate to stop the witch from looking at him like he was some sort of monster. He didn't know why. He had stabbed Rogue in the back mere hours ago, after all. He had every right to see Sir Eucliffe as a monster.

"Are you really?" Rogue asked dully. Sir Eucliffe bristled, forcibly reminding himself that Rogue was asking a reasonable question, no matter how much it stung. He thought for a moment, searching for an answer.

"More than I have been meeting most people, especially of late." Rogue would have hated to be someone he wasn't pleased to meet if that was the case. "Are you still cold?" Absolutely, but Rogue wasn't going to tell him that. He shook his head, and yet Sting clearly didn't buy it. Before he could respond, however, Rogue finally noticed the cuffs on his wrists. What were they for? Were they magical? They had to be. What did they do?

"It's alright! They're just there to stop you from running away. Just try to ignore them." Sting said quickly. He unbuttoned his coat and took it off. "Since your shirt is ruined, you can wear this." He reached for Rogue, but now that he had regained some strength, Rogue didn't intend to let himself be picked up. Hastily, he tried to shuffle away, but the pain in his back made him pause. "Careful!"

"I'm alright. I'm not cold." Rogue lied.

"You're still shivering. I know you're afraid of me, and you have every right to despise me. That doesn't mean I am going to let you make things worse for yourself." Sir Eucliffe told him firmly. "Now we're going to put the coat on you, and then I'll go back to my book and leave you alone. Then when the rain stops, we'll leave." He reached for Rogue again, and though the witch glared at him, he didn't back away. Sir Eucliffe would consider that a victory. He sat Rogue up and bundled him up in his warm coat. He was already missing it, but Rogue needed it more. "There we go. Now as promised, I'll leave you alone."

When the rain ceased a couple of days later, Rogue watched Sting pack up his camp, valiantly ignoring the way his stomach felt as though it had been filled with lead. The knight had been silent for the most part.

The only conversation of note was when he had told Rogue that he was free to go as far as the cuffs would let him. That had been followed by a short argument once Rogue had found out just how short that distance was. After dragging himself ten meters along the cave wall, his feet had simply ceased to move. Panicked, Rogue had sought another path, but never could he stray further from the knight. The bastard had been watching his every move from the dry safety of the cave, likely gloating at the terrified man’s attempts. Rogue had, in his desperation, tried to manifest his wings. That was when he had discovered the cuffs’ secondary properties. Distraught, he had slumped down beside a tree, which did little to shield him from the pouring rain. His wounds were tearing into him, some of his old scars even acting up.

Once Sting had dragged him back into the cave and Rogue had caught his breath, he had started shouting at the knight, demanding to be set free. Of course, his request had been denied, and after repeated attempts, Rogue had stopped trying. He hadn’t spoken since then and had no intention of changing that.

Sir Eucliffe felt Rogue's glare on his back, but every time he turned around, the witch had turned away. Sighing, Sir Eucliffe finished packing and turned to the witch. The silence had gone on long enough. "Alright, Rogue. Ready to go?" Not a word. Shame. "Come on Rogue. Lovely voice like yours, tis a shame not to use it." The witch still didn't speak, but he found the courage to glare at him again. Anyone else, he would have challenged to a duel. It was an insult after all. But not only did Rogue have every reason to look at him that way, not least of all after his comment, he was completely the knight's mercy. Not to mention it would have been odd to challenge him after staring at his eyes for so long. "I suppose that was hardly appropriate." Sir Eucliffe conceded gently. Rogue looked at him blankly.

The knight made his way over and slowly tried to lift Rogue to his feet. Letting himself go limp, the witch gave Sir Eucliffe a wide smirk. Sir Eucliffe rolled his eyes. "Not going to make this easy for me, are you? Brat." Rogue stuck his tongue out. Sir Eucliffe chuckled faintly, the first genuine laugh he'd had in a long while, and carefully set him down. The witch's triumphant smile brought new laughter to the knight. "I'd wager you're proud of yourself."

"Very." Rogue didn't manage to stop that one word. He cursed himself internally as Sting's cold blue eyes lit up the slightest bit. He locked his jaw and looked away. The knight chuckled gently.

"Very well, but we need to go. We still need to find the Heart of the Northern Skies. Come on."

"What do you mean we?" Rogue spat.

Sir Eucliffe explained his quest to the highly unimpressed Rogue. Slowly, the witch grew more worried. "And as you're bound to me for the time being, you're coming with me." Rogue didn't seem to be paying attention. His normally sharp eyes were wide and glazed over, staring slightly over the knight's shoulder. After a moment, his shoulders jerked, and seemingly subconsciously, curled up into a ball.

Until now, Rogue had not fully grasped the extent of the trouble he was in. He didn't want to know what the king had planned for him. Witches were dangerous. He wasn't one, but the king didn't know that. Keeping one around, especially one who was here against his will, was deeply foolish. What could the king possibly want with him? "Rogue? Focus on me." Sting ordered him firmly. Rogue blinked at him. The knight was kneeling beside him, genuine concern on his face. His hand cautiously hovered over Rogue's wrist, and he almost pulled it away out of habit.

Rogue wanted to ask him what would happen, but the words wouldn't come. All he could do was look intently at Sting. Comfortingly, the knight brushed his fingertips against his scales. "There, there-" His whisper cut off, his hand stilling against Rogue's arm.

Briefly surprised by the tears flowing freely, Sir Eucliffe resumed his attempts to comfort the witch. Guilt stabbed at his heart as he watched Rogue break down. He'd seemed so stoic, and Sir Eucliffe hadn't expected him to fall apart in front of a stranger. "Come on. Tell me what's going on." Rogue glared at him, hastily wiping away his tears.

"What do you think? I got stabbed in the back and you're going to drag me back to your accursed king for who knows what." The witch growled in a cracked voice.

"My apologies, Rogue. It is the only way for me to find redemption."

"Redemption for your crimes. Why must I bear the consequences?" Rogue snarled, looking more dragonlike than ever. "What have I done to deserve this?"

"The people fear you, and nothing else matters. Perhaps I can persuade the king to release you, when we return victorious. But for that to stand a chance, you'll need to convince the people that you aren't a threat to them. Come with me. Help me find the heart." Sir Eucliffe requested earnestly. Rogue's glare softened, and Sir Eucliffe could practically see the moment he started to hope. The knight prayed that it would not be in vain.

With that, Sir Eucliffe carefully helped Rogue leave the cave, slowly making their way down the winding mountain path. Fortunately the skies remained clear as they cleared the mountains in a week's walk. Fewer and fewer people recognized the knight, and slowly, his demeanor brightened. Rogue grew less nervous the longer they traveled, as they never stayed long enough for his scales to be discovered.

They reached the town where the seer was said to live. Sir Eucliffe asked around as to where they lived, and soon, they found the house. The knight knocked on door, breath bated. Rogue stayed behind him, eyeing the door uneasily. The door swung open with a creak, revealing a blonde woman, far younger than Sir Eucliffe had expected the seer to be. Maybe she was their granddaughter. "Good day, madam. We come to seek a seer, we heard of one who lives here." The knight told her. She shook her head.

"Begone. You aren't welcome here."

"For what reason?" Sir Eucliffe demanded.

"Your reputation precedes you, Sir Eucliffe of the Dawn Order. You are not welcome here." She reiterated, her voice growing heated.

"Let us go, Sting." Rogue suggested. Maybe if they never found the Heart of the Northern Skies, he would never be turned in to the king. The woman's brown eyes briefly flashed gold, so quickly that Rogue almost thought he had imagined it.

"A moment, please. You, we are willing to deal with, Ryos of Anemone. No... Rogue, isn't it?"

"What was the first one?" Rogue asked quickly, the rest of her sentence rapidly fading from his mind. Her eyes flashed gold again.

"You didn't know? Your given name is Ryos. Ryos of Anemone." We know our target. Anemone. His shadow spoke for the first time since he's run into Sting. Having grown used to the quiet, Rogue jumped back. Sting caught him as he stumbled, drawing his blade as he glared at the woman.

"What did you do to him!" Sir Eucliffe shouted. He hadn't registered anything the woman had said, had only seen her eyes flash gold.

"Sting, what are you doing?" Rogue hissed, struggling to his feet. The woman, no, the seer, tapped her knuckles against the door frame. Rogue heard two people get up and make their way to them, stopping just out of sight.

"Will you come or not?" The seer asked, her patience seemingly fading fast. Little as Rogue wanted to find the Heart, he didn't really a good reason to refuse. He nodded reluctantly.

"No. He won't be until you tell me what you did." Sir Eucliffe threatened.

"Yes I will be. She didn't do anything, Sting. Besides, you have no reason to care." Rogue snapped. Sir Eucliffe considered dragging him away, but they needed the information,

"Very well then. Call out if you need me." Rogue had no intention of doing that. A little annoyed at himself for giving up an ironclad reason to reject information, he stepped inside. The seer shut the door, and the other two people stepped into the light, seemingly from nowhere. The tallest one, a pink haired man somewhat shorter than Rogue, spoke:

"Luce, why have you gone back on our decision? We agreed that we wouldn't assist knights, and certainly not the witch-slayer himself!" He asked, confounded. The white haired woman was still eyeing the door cautiously, watching the seer lock it.

"We'll discuss this upstairs, Natsu. Lisanna, sweetheart, could you get us something to drink? This may take a while." Sting would be very pleased with that. Natsu led the way upstairs, gesturing for Rogue to follow him. Luce joined them after assuring that the door was properly secured.

"Who are you?" Natsu questioned, sitting down in a plush chair.

"Rogue."

Natsu waited for a moment, as though expecting Rogue to continue, but Rogue didn't, still wary of the trio's motives. "Could out-babble a brook, you could." The man commented, reaching out towards a candle and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. Rogue's eyes widened. "Never seen magic before? Hey Luce, why would you let him in if he's traveling with the witch-slayer and he's not magic?"

"Not now, Natsu. Wait until Lisanna gets here." The seer said. "It will save me my breath."

Fortunately, it was not long a wait, for soon Rogue heard her footsteps on the stairs. She carried two platters, one containing two jugs and four cups and the other carrying a mountain of bread rolls. They were still warm, their smell carrying over to where Rogue was seated. "Milk or wine?" She asked. Rogue asked for the former, his experience with wine limited to observing the occasional town drunk. Hardly a favorable impression.

Once they all had their respective foods and beverages, the seer started to speak: "As you may have gathered, my name is Lucy, and these are Natsu and Lisanna. Lisanna, this is Rogue." The white haired woman waved at him, and Rogue hesitantly waved back. "The three of us are all witches, so I hope you understand why we don't wish to deal with your companion." Rogue nodded. He didn't really want to deal with his companion either. Perhaps it was in his head, but the half healed wound in his back twinged a little as he thought so. Lucy had stopped speaking, and Rogue realized that she was expecting a response. He nodded hurried, turning his focus back to her.

"We came here to ask about the Heart of the Northern Skies. It's been missing for centuries. We don't know where to begin looking." Rogue explained.

"Yes, I am aware. But that is not why I let you in. You're not here of your own free will, are you?" Lucy asked. Natsu and Lisanna's eyes widened. Rogue shook his head, wondering where this was going. "I can't see the specifics, but you have two options: The first is to stay with us, and kill the witch-slayer. The second is to go with him and fulfill his quest." Her tone was grave, and Rogue knew she was hiding something. Silently, he waited for her to continue, twisting the cuffs around his wrists. "If you stay with us, your curse will never be lifted. Your mind should remain the same, but eventually, you'll transform permanently."

"I don't believe I could stay. These cuffs bind me to him." Rogue admitted, revealing the cuffs and by extension his scales.

"That is why we would have to kill him." Lucy stated, folding her hands into her lap. Rogue didn't know what to say. Freedom was within his grasp, but he wasn't sure he could kill for it. It was of no matter. He didn't want to kill for it. He didn't want anyone to die for it.

"I'll go with him." Rogue decided.

"What do you mean? He put a sealing spell on you, and you want to help him?" Natsu growled, baffled by Rogue's choice.

"It would be for the best, yes. If you are willing to do that, there is a chance that your curse will be broken." Lucy said. "And we'd never be able to rest with the Dawn Order after us."

"How? Can it really be broken?" Rogue asked hopefully.

"I don't know how, I just know that it can. Sorry I can't be more of more help."

"That's alright. Do you know where we can find the Heart of the Norhtern Skies?" Rogue asked, trying to hide his disappointment. Lucy shut her eyes, trying to find at least something.

"I see you two finding it, but I can't see how. As far as I can see, no one will tell you. -Wait! No. It's strange. Like you suddenly knew. I'm sorry, I don't know." Lucy apologized. Rogue froze, looking at his shadow.

"Thank you. I think I know who to ask." He wasn't looking forward to it. What he looked forward to even less was whatever the king had planned. "One more question: You called me Ryos of Anemone. Is that really my name?"

"Ryos was the name your parents gave you, yes. Anemone is your hometown."

"Right. Are my parents alive?" Rogue queried.

"A moment, please." Lucy said, her eyes flashing gold. She reached a hand out to Rogue. "May I?" Rogue nodded. She touched his forehead lightly, the gold color in her eyes fully taking over the brown for several seconds. "They don't appear to be. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Thank you for telling me." Rogue thanked her. "I thank all of you for letting me in, and for the food."

He said his goodbyes to the other three and walked out to Sting, who hadn't moved from the door. "Did she tell you where we'll find the heart?" The knight asked once the house was out of sight.

"She said we'd find it, but she was vague on the how. I think we need to keep going until we figure it out." Rogue would be damned if he told Sting about the talking shadow that kept telling him to seek revenge, preferably through murder. Sting sighed irritably.

"Well isn't that helpful? Fate could not possibly have spared me this, could it?" The knight complained. "Could she have lied to you?"

"No. No, I believe she was telling the truth." But Rogue was the same person who had fallen for the same trap a hundred times, so what did he know? That very thought seemed to be on the knight's mind. However, he let it go.

Since they had no leads, aside from the vague prophecy, Sir Eucliffe decided to start searching in a more enjoyable place. The coast was nearby and was said to be wonderful this time of year, and it was as good a place as any to start their search. Though it was not far, Sir Eucliffe felt that they would be traveling a lot, and as such decided that a wagon would be a wise purchase.

The trouble was, he lacked the funds to purchase one. Thus, followed by a confused yet resigned Rogue, he started to look for something to do.

"Would you care to tell me why you seek an audience with the count?" Rogue hissed into Sir Eucliffe ear, wrapping the knight's coat around himself uncomfortably.

"We need money for a wagon and horse and supplies, and we need it soon. Might that the count has some monsters that require slaying." Sting told him. As long as the 'monsters' he spoke of weren't witches, Rogue didn't mind. Not that he would have a choice in the matter. As such, he nodded in understanding, warily following the knight's lead as they were announced.

It was but a short conversation, as Sting left out much of their story in his explanations. The count might have found it suspicious, had he not been desperate for help. But as luck would have it, he was, for a town south of the one they just left had recently become the hunting grounds of a griffon. Considering just how well Sting's previous griffon battle had gone, there was no way this could go wrong.

Still, the knight accepted at once, for what Rogue assumed was a high price. As Sting turned to leave, the count spoke again: "And your companion? What of him? He hardly seems to be a fighter." Sting turned around, briefly glancing at Rogue as he did. It was a fair question. With the cuffs on his wrists, he couldn't transform.

"You think me incapable of slaying a griffon alone?" Sir Eucliffe growled disdainfully. The count started to rescind his impertinent question. "He is traveling with me. He isn't here to fight." Sir Eucliffe didn't know why he was angered by the idea of Rogue having to fight, but he didn't have to.

"Of course, of course! My apologies, I shouldn't have pried." The count said shakily, hurriedly trying to get back into Sir Eucliffe's good graces. Magnanimously, Sir Eucliffe decided to forgive the man, brushing off his prying. On the edge of his vision, he could see Rogue rolling his eyes. He turned around to shoot him a brief glare, but Rogue didn't flinch, looking unimpressed.

On one hand, Sir Eucliffe was worried that this would make the count rethink his fear of him. On the other, Rogue didn't seem to be scared of him anymore, which could only be a good thing. Fortunately, the count didn't seem notice. Thanking his lucky stars, Sir Eucliffe left the building, Rogue right behind him.

They set off right away, back to the mountains to slay the beast. While Rogue wouldn't be helping him fight, he couldn't stay in the village alone, and thus he had to go with Sir Eucliffe. He didn't seem to mind, at least.

Rogue wished Sting good luck when they separated at the foot of the mountains. Due to the magic of the cuffs, he'd still have to follow him, but at a distance, hopefully far enough to stay out of the fight.

He watched Sting make his way to the griffon's nest, sword drawn. As such, he noticed the griffon before the knight did, seeing it circle back when it saw him. He could just stay put, do nothing. The knight would likely win, but the sneak attack would injure him. Rogue would be able to easily overpower him.

No. Rogue gripped his arm, his nails cutting into flesh. The shadow's voice was becoming ever harder to distinguish from his own. "Sting!" He called out to the knight. Sting didn't turn, not until the griffon swooped him. Then, as fluidly as a river, he spun around, his sword finding the beast's heart. It's momentum carried it forward, Sting's sharp blade almost tearing it in two. As the bloodstained blade caught the light of the sun, it cast small speckles of red and white light onto the mountainside, dancing among the spatters of blood that covered it as Sting moved.

The spell broke as the knight lowered his blade, walking over to the griffon's corpse to sever its head as proof of his triumph. Unfazed, he made his way back to Rogue. "Let's go get our reward." He said simply. Rogue nodded wordlessly, following him back down the mountain.

It had taken all Sir Eucliffe had not to turn around the moment Rogue had called his name. He had expected the griffon to move the way it had, as that was their typical hunting strategy, and had planned accordingly. He had neglected to tell Rogue as much, but even then, he was surprised that he had chosen to warn him.

Now, his main struggle was not to bring it up. Rogue had always helped people when he could. He wasn't special. "I apologize if I distracted you."

Sir Eucliffe froze at the unnecessary apology, but responded swiftly: "Nothing to apologize for. I should have told you about the plan." They walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again: "When we get our reward, we're going to go to the seaside to start searching. I don't expect we'll find anything, but we should go regardless." Rogue nodded.

"Is it far?" He asked.

"Not very. But as we will be traveling for a while, we may as well buy a wagon." Sir Eucliffe explained. "It's quite nice there, I'm sure you'll like it."

"Will there be many people?" Rogue asked, twisting the cuff on his scaled arm.

"Some, I'm sure. We shan't stay in one place for too long. The weather will be nice, or so I'm told, so we should be able to stay in the wagon some nights." Sir Eucliffe offered. They had reached the foot of the mountains at that point, not to far from their destination. When Rogue nodded, the knight continued: "It may be pretty warm, so we'll need to get new clothes. Something light. I'm sure we'll find something to cover your arm."

They returned to the count, with the griffon's head as proof of their victory. He was a little surprised at how quickly they had returned, but compensated them as promised. Within the week, Sir Eucliffe had managed to get his hands on a wagon, alongside the necessary modifications. Rogue stayed beside him as he did so, working on his potions. They went out for more herbs when Sir Eucliffe wasn't negotiating, Rogue finding those he needed with practiced ease. Still, he checked them every time, just in case he was wrong.

Their last job before they set out was to pick up their clothes from the tailor. Sir Eucliffe dressed quickly, not bothering to put his armor back on. When he came out, Rogue was already waiting for him. For a moment, Sir Eucliffe felt that he had forgotten how to breathe. Rogue had decided to cut his hair that morning, and had put it up in small ponytail, exposing a small sliver of his neck above the high-necked collar of his shirt. That might not have been an issue were it not for the fact that the shirt only had one sleeve, loosely covering his scaled hand in contrast to how the shirt clung to his upper body. The bottom of the shirt was tucked haphazardly into his light trousers, as though he'd done so in a hurry. Sir Eucliffe barely spared the clothes a glance, his eyes drawn to the exposed arm. He could barely make out the muscles, but they were definitely there, moving as Rogue shifted awkwardly. Sir Eucliffe tried to snap out of it. He'd seen Rogue without a shirt before. Unfortunately, as he snapped his head up to face Rogue, he met his gaze. Those enchanting eyes were no longer surrounded by dark circles, and as such appeared a far deeper red, small specks of violet and a lighter red catching his eye.

Rogue shifted as he noticed Sting watching him, worried he had been caught staring. His shadow berated him, telling him that he was being distracted. It could shut up.

Without his armor, Sting looked far more approachable, gentle even. He was wearing a sleeveless blue shirt, which he hadn't bothered to tuck in, as well as white trousers and brown leather gloves. His sword hung at his hip, swinging with every step he took. When the knight met his gaze, Rogue froze, trying to place the look Sting was giving him. His deep blue eyes had widened slightly, following Rogue's eyes every time they moved. His mouth hung slightly open, revealing perfect white teeth. They were straight, unlike Rogue's sharp fangs.

"Shall we go?" Rogue asked, attempting to cover his face with his hair before realizing he had put it up. Quickly, he ran his fingers through some of the strands, loosening them from the ponytail to frame his face. Sting jumped, hurriedly agreeing. Rogue decided not to question whatever that was about, instead waiting for the knight to lead the way.

Embarrassed, Sir Eucliffe walked to the wagon, his face burning with the might of a thousand suns. Rogue, walking beside him, suddenly sped up to stop in front of him, rummaging in his bag. "I can feel you burning up from here. Just a moment, I should have something for a fever. Is anything else wrong? Headache, sore throat?" Sir Eucliffe hadn't thought he could have been more embarrassed, but it appeared he was mistaken. He hadn't thought that Rogue's heightened senses would pick up on something like this. Was it really that bad? "Do you need to sit down?"

"No- No, Rogue, I'm fine. I'm not sick."

"You don't look fine. You look sick." Rogue argued, still sifting through the clay vials for some medicine.

"Rogue. I'm not discussing this with you. I'm not sick. Trust me." Really convincing. Rogue didn't look like he believed Sir Eucliffe, but he closed his bag. "It's not serious." He tried to reassure Rogue more softly. He hoped he was right. That this wasn't serious. It would become a huge problem if it was. Rogue wasn't paying full attention.

"That's weird. Your fever is going down."

"It's not a fever, Rogue."

"Alright. If you say so."

The rest of the walk to the wagon was quiet, with Rogue occasionally throwing concerned looks at him. Once Sir Eucliffe moved past his initially embarrassment and annoyance, he found it somewhat endearing.

Whatever was wrong with Sting wasn't among the ailments that his shadow had taught him about. That meant that it was either extremely trivial or extremely rare. Rogue wasn't on speaking terms with the shadow right now, but he might have to change that once the knight was out of earshot.

The first hour of the trip was largely uneventful, but Rogue found himself feeling sicker as the road grew rockier. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he opened his bag, running the possibilities through his mind. Food poisoning? Some other disease? He had a concoction that could make him throw up if it was the former, but he wasn't sure.

"Rogue, I told you I'm not sick." Sting reminded him. He turned to look at Rogue as he spoke and his face fell. Within moments, he stopped the wagon. "What's wrong? You look like death warmed up." Was it really that bad? He did feel faint. Before he could respond Rogue felt the bile rising in his throat and leaned over the side of the wagon, gracelessly emptying the contents of his stomach onto the road. He felt Sting pull away the hair that covered his face, waiting until Rogue was done to speak again: "Easy now. It's alright. Are you travelsick? Or is it something else?" He pulled out a handkerchief, gently wiping Rogue's face. When he regained his bearings, Rogue took it from him.

"Travelsick?" Rogue croaked miserably.

"Some people get sick on wagons and boats. When it's just boats, we say seasick. Do you think that's it?"

"I don't know. I've never been on a wagon before." He did feel better now that they had stopped moving. Slowly, he leaned back into the bench, staring at the wagon cover. The sunlight filtered through it, not too bright, but still warm. Rogue closed his eyes, enjoying it.

Sir Eucliffe watched Rogue relax, catching himself smiling as he did. He decided to give him a few minutes to recover. Meanwhile, he would rest as well. Sir Eucliffe didn't remember the last time he had allowed himself to laze around like this. Not in at least a decade and a half, he supposed. It felt wonderful.

Far later than Sir Eucliffe had intended, they set out again, going more slowly than before. In the middle of the afternoon, they reached the seaside. Sir Eucliffe decided to set up camp on close to a small town.

For a few days, they stayed there, questioning the locals for a couple of hours a day before returning to camp. After that, they moved to the next town, going at a leisurely pace, in part to spare Rogue from his travelsickness, in part because they were in no hurry. It was quite enjoyable, but Rogue dreaded the day they would find the Heart.

One night, when Sting had fallen asleep, Rogue got up and walked as far as he could from the knight. "Shadow?" Asking aloud was unnecessary, but it made Rogue feel slightly less insane. It made it easier to tell his thoughts and the shadow's apart. It was listening, Rogue knew. "Are we close? To the Heart?" Further than they'd ever been, his shadow told him. He didn't know how, but he was sure it was telling the truth. Rogue leaned against a rock, letting himself slide down to a sitting position. He was ashamed to find himself trembling in relief, but he couldn't tell why.

The weather was warm and sunny for the most part, but a few days after they reached the second town, clouds started to build on the horizon. "Smells like a bad storm's coming. Day or two from now, I'd say." Rogue warned Sting one morning, pointing to the clouds. The knight frowned, looking into the distance.

"I don't see anything. But it can't hurt to be cautious. We'll leave tomorrow. There's a town further inland, if we make it past the cliff." Sir Eucliffe suggested. Rogue nodded, though he seemed a little disturbed. "What's wrong?"

"I think we should leave today. Just to be safe." Rogue told him. Sir Eucliffe shook his head.

"I want to check the caves. The Heart might be there."

"It isn't. We shouldn't risk it." Rogue knew as soon as the words left his mouth that speaking had been a mistake. In his worry about potentially braving the cliffs during the storm, he'd ruined everything.

"What do you mean?" Since the night he'd overheard Rogue talking to himself, Sir Eucliffe had been sure he knew more than he let on. He'd kept quiet for the time being, for reasons he didn't fully understand. Rogue took a step back, away from him. His face was blank, his eyes darting around frantically, looking anywhere but Sir Eucliffe's face. "I know you know something, Rogue. I heard you, the night before last." Rogue took another step back. "Come back here. I'm not going to hurt you." The knight promised, forcing himself to calm down. After a moment of hesitation, Rogue complied but stayed silent.

For a couple of hours, both stayed silent. Rogue sat on the seat of the wagon, watching Sting make dinner. What could he even say? Should he tell him about his shadow? What would he do when asked why he hadn't said anything? Rogue didn't know. The obvious reason, not wanting to be dragged back to the king, didn't feel good enough for some reason. Not when he had misled the first person to show him compassion! With a jolt, Rogue realized why his original reason felt hollow. It had changed. Well, not changed. He had a second reason: He hadn't wanted to lose the companionship he'd found with Sting. Arguably, that was a far worse reason, and a stupid one at that.

"Sting?" He asked hesitantly. The knight got up from the fire and walked over to him, sitting down beside him.

"Do you know where the Heart is?" Sting asked after a moment.

"No. But I know how to find out." He admitted. "I'm sorry."

Sting flinched at Rogue's quiet apology. "What are you apologizing for? You've been far more helpful than I would have been." Rogue hadn't really done anything to help, but he supposed he could have been more difficult.

"I know how important this is to you. I'll find out. I'll tell you where it is." Sir Eucliffe almost wanted to tell him not to, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he watched at Rogue spoke to his shadow, trying to ignore the self-loathing that sparked up within him. "Huh... I wasn't expecting it to be there." Rogue noted after a few minutes of intent listening.

Shadow told Rogue, for the first time, the story of his death.

Once upon a time, centuries ago, there had been a king. He had been a strict ruler, but a just one. The common folk loved him, but the nobility grew resentful of him, both due to his insistence on holding them to the law and his refusal to use the Heart of the Northern Skies. His sister, hearing rumors of a coup, joined forces with the plotters to save herself and the rest of the family. With her help, the king was none the wiser. When the plotters struck, the king knew that his final hour was near. To his lover, he entrusted the Heart, the kingdom's most valued treasure. Valiantly, the king fought the enemies back, buying his lover some time to flee. The lover fled into the mountains, mortally wounded, and cursed the mountain range itself with his dying breath. For centuries, none had gotten far enough to find the Heart, and many took their search elsewhere.

Shadow had long since forgotten his name when Rogue had been left in his cave, and his sense of self was fading rapidly. Seeing that the child was his only hope at vengeance, he took him under his wing, trying to keep him alive.

Rogue could tell that Shadow didn't want to tell him. He had refused to speak of himself every other time he had asked. But with their rapidly merging thoughts, he had little choice. Rogue pushed his own concerns regarding that aside. Instead of dwelling on that somewhat horrifying fact, Rogue told Sting where the Heart was.

"How do you know?" Sir Eucliffe asked. After taking a deep breath, Rogue told him of the shadow that had followed him since his abandonment, of its history and most terrifyingly, of how their minds were slowly becoming one. He could tell that Rogue was scared of that, but didn't know what to do about it. "Let's eat." The knight instead suggested. Rogue nodded, leading the way to the fire.

Rogue hardly slept that night, dreading the day they found the Heart. When the sun rose, he got up and started to pack everything up. There wasn't much, and as such he finished quickly. With that done, he returned to Sting, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Sting? Wake up! Everything's packed."

"Huh?" Sir Eucliffe blinked a few times to discover that it was indeed dawn. "Rogue, what in the heavens' name is wrong with you? We're not leaving now. Go back to sleep." He grumbled. Rogue quietly went back to his bedroll, lying completely still, seemingly waiting for Sir Eucliffe to go back to sleep. The knight sighed, getting up. "You're worried." He stated. Rogue rolled over to face him, the look in his eyes confirmation enough. "Don't worry about what will or will not happen when we get back. I'll protect you." Sir Eucliffe promised.

"How? You'd barely have regained your honor. What power would you have?" Rogue questioned. He flinched, surprised at how bitter his voice sounded. Sting looked downcast, stung by his words. It only lasted a moment, however, before his eyes hardened, determination written on his face.

"I know what to do. On my life, I swear you'll be safe." Sir Eucliffe knew that that didn't answer Rogue's perfectly reasonable question, but his plan was truly a last resort, and he didn't want to bet on it. To his surprise, Rogue shrugged.

"Shall I trust you then?" Rogue asked, knowing he would regardless. There was nothing else he could do about his situation, and at least trusting Sting would give him some peace of mind.

"Yes. I'll burn the kingdom to the ground if that's what it took to keep my oath." The knight told him earnestly. Rogue felt his heart race.

"I- You need not do that." Rogue told him, trying to slow his breathing.

"Don't I?" Sir Eucliffe asked, smiling as he noticed the blush dusting Rogue's face. He recalled the incident a dozen days ago and decided to give him a hint. He reached out to touch Rogue's cheek, causing him to turn redder. "You're burning up, Rogue... I think it's the thing that happened to me. You know, when we got the wagon?" It took a moment for his words to register with Rogue, but when they did, they had the intended effect.

Rogue's face went from anxious to confused to slightly embarrassed, before realization dawned on him. "Ah, right. Then I guess I'll try to sleep it off." He suggested quickly, flopping back down onto his bedroll.

"You do that." Sir Eucliffe agreed, getting up. He wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, he supposed. He made himself breakfast, watching Rogue pretend to sleep. Not for the first time, Sir Eucliffe had doubts. Even with his backup plan, he would still be endangering Rogue. What if he skipped the original plan, abandoned his tasks and went straight to the backup?

No. He wasn't that strong. His whole life, he'd worked to rise in the ranks of the Dawn Order, even as it took everything from him, from his joy to his heart. He wasn't willing to throw all that away, not if there was the slightest chance that he wouldn't have to.

But he would not let it take Rogue from him. He was the one that had made Sir Eucliffe feel like a person again. The only one that consistently used his name. Sting. Not even he could bring himself to do that. Was it such a surprise that he had come to love Rogue? It hit him like a landslide. He loved Rogue!

Sir Eucliffe watched the sun continue to rise, letting it warm him up as he listened as Rogue's feigned sleep faded into being real. The slow, deep breaths combined with the warmth from the sun and his epithany lulled the weary knight to sleep.

It was nearly noon when Rogue awoke again, the sun, though high in the sky, almost fully covered by clouds. He looked around to find Sting leaning against the wagon, fast asleep. Quietly so as not to wake him again, Rogue got up to find something to eat. He settled on an apple and gave another to the horse. Poor thing might have to carry them up the mountains.

After that, he sat down beside Sting, looking out at the sea. He was going to miss this. After a while, he got up to get his brush, fixing his hair, which had become a mess while he slept. Stroke by stroke, he untangled it, wondering how he'd ever made do with just his fingers. Sting shifted beside him, resting his head on Rogue's shoulder. Since Rogue had already finished brushing that side, he didn't bother moving him, instead continuing to brush his hair. Once he had gotten over his surprise at the touch, he found that it felt nice, comforting even. When he couldn't realistically continue brushing his hair, he put down the brush and after a moment of hesitation, rested his head against Sting's.

Sir Eucliffe slowly awoke, the scent of wood-smoke and honey filling his nose. He opened his eyes to realize he was still outside the wagon, his head resting comfortably on something warm, a soft, heavy weight covering it. He could stay like this forever, and likely would have, were it not for the fact that he suddenly realized that he was sleeping on Rogue, who had sat down beside him at some point.

Sir Eucliffe jolted, causing Rogue to move immediately. "Are you alright?" Rogue asked him. Sir Eucliffe acquiesced, not sure if he was embarrassed at laying on Rogue or at his cowardly reaction to discovering that fact.

"My apologies for leaning on you. Must have been uncomfortable." Sir Eucliffe apologized. Rogue shrugged.

"Was it for you?" He asked.

"Come again? -No, it wasn't! I meant, it must have been for you!" Sir Eucliffe clarified, fearing Rogue would misunderstand.

"It wasn't. I would have moved if it were." Rogue assured him, watching relief flood the knight's face before he could mask it.

They made their way back to the mountains, leaving the brewing storm behind them. Driving slowly, they reached the foot of the mountains. Sir Eucliffe made the decision to sell the wagon, to Rogue's chagrin. He seemed to have grown fond of it despite his travelsickness. They kept the horse however. She would be helpful when it came to crossing the mountains. When Rogue remarked that hey had forgotten to name her, Sir Eucliffe spent the whole day coming up with a name. It had to be good. If it was bad, Rogue would think he was an idiot, and he'd made enough bad impressions to last a lifetime. Fortunately, Rogue found the name Solence to be wonderful. He failed to mention that he had been debating between Solace and Silence when Rogue had asked him, and that that been what had come out of his mouth.

Now they rode into the mountains on Solence's back, Rogue sitting behind Sir Eucliffe, both due to being taller and not knowing how to ride. Several a monster came their way, but the knight had ample experience with slaying them, so they were promptly defeated. Every time, Sir Eucliffe felt Rogue's eyes on him, and every time, his heart swelled with pride. It was different from the admiration of the people that he had long lost. It was quieter, warmer. Safer, and yet so much more fascinating.

Eventually, they made their way back to the cave where they had stayed when they first met. The night was close, and Rogue's cave a few hours away, so they decided to make camp. Sting decided that they should make stew, given that they had a few hours to spare. Rogue brushed out Solence's coat while Sting cut up the meat, and then went to sit down beside him, stirring the pot while the knight cut up the vegetables.

"What are you going to do once you're redeemed?" Rogue asked, continuing to stir lazily. Sting thought for a moment, his face slowly twisting into a haunted look.

"I don't know..." Sir Eucliffe realized in horror. He didn't want to go back to the way things were. The other knights had always hated him. The common folk had turned their backs on him the moment he was less than perfect. The king had only made a show of sparing him. Sir Eucliffe suddenly realized he had never been meant to succeed, much less in under two months.

He wanted to be safe! He wanted to be loved! He wanted to be able to look in the mirror every day and be proud of the person he saw looking back at him! He wanted to be Sting Eucliffe. But he'd come too far to turn back now, hadn't he?

Sir Eucliffe sighed, trying to shut away the incoming existential crisis. The concerned look Rogue shot him almost broke his resolve, but he stayed strong. "I'll have the king release you. After that, I'd like to continue traveling with you, if you'll come with me. Or at least stay in touch." It was more than he deserved ask for, or so he thought. Until he saw Rogue's face light up, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"I would love that!" Not like. Love. Was he overthinking this? The knight looked into Rogue's eyes. There was no doubt in Sir Eucliffe's ability to get him released, only the desire to go with him. Rogue was smiling at him, as happy as Sir Eucliffe had ever seen him.

"That's good to hear."

They left the next morning, reaching Rogue's cave by noon. It was high up in the crags, likely dangerously windy even on the loveliest of days, let alone now, with another storm a day away. "They left you here?" Sir Eucliffe asked, looking at the gaping entrance. Earthen spikes jutted from the floor and ceiling, a small brook chattering in a corner, leading outside of the cave. At the far wall, Sir Eucliffe could identify a crude shelf and a tightly woven nest. Some threadbare clothes hung from the shelf, along with some clay bottles.

"The bed and shelf weren't there yet." Rogue pointed out lightheartedly. Sir Eucliffe resolved to make sure Rogue got to experience a real bed soon. A nice one. With soft blankets. Maybe with some furs. Winter Wolf furs were really soft! He could get some of those if he went up north. They were pretty difficult to hunt, but Sir Eucliffe was a hardened warrior. He could handle a few Winter Wolves.

Suddenly, he realized that Rogue had started searching. Hurriedly, he joined him in his search. After an hour or two of digging and searching Sir Eucliffe's hands found a small smooth rock. He called Rogue over and unearthed it in full, washing it in the brook, revealing a black, heart shaped stone, hanging from an undamaged silver chain. Blue and green and purple speckled and swirled within it, like the polar lights Sir Eucliffe had seen on one of his missions. "It's pretty." Rogue said, a massive understatement if you asked Sir Eucliffe.

"Yeah..." He agreed breathlessly, struggling to tear his eyes from it as he held it into the sunlight, watching the colors dancing on the cave walls.

Rogue watched Sting, the look of wonder on his face captivating him. He looked so amazed, so innocently happy, the cool colors of the Heart of the Northern Skies reflected in his eyes. After a few minutes, Rogue decided to check on Sol. He left the cave, running his fingers through her mane. "Give it a bit longer, Sol." He told the horse, handing her an apple. For a while, he sat by the cave's entrance, watching Sol crunching up her apple.

Sir Eucliffe had barely registered that Rogue had left the cave. He got up from his seat beside the brook and went out to find Rogue, who was watching Solence. "You should get your things. We're nearly out of the mountains, and I'd like to make it down by nightfall." Rogue nodded, disappearing into the cave.

With a heavy heart, Rogue looked around the cave that had been his home for so long. He folded his clothes quickly and piled them onto the shelf. His hand hovered over the bottles, but thought better of it. He could always make more. Someone else might have use for them. With that in mind, he left all but one change of clothes behind too. And with one last look at the cave, a goodbye on his lips, he turned away, towards Sting. He packed the clothes into one of the saddlebags and looked at Sting, nodding to the horse, as though saying 'shall we go?'

With Solence, the journey was quicker than Sir Eucliffe's way there. More people recognized him as they came closer to the capital, dirty looks and insults becoming more common as they approached the palace. Rogue shifted closer to Sir Eucliffe, anxiously eyeing the rapidly forming crowd. "It's alright Rogue. It's fine. We're almost there, love." He didn't realize just what he'd said until it was too late. Mortified, he kept guiding Solence to the palace.

"Love?" Rogue asked, stunned to the point that he forgot about the crowd. Love? Rogue hadn't considered it. Now that he was forced to think about it, he wasn't sure. He did like Sting, a lot. He wanted to stay with him. But Sting had stabbed him and had been willing to take him here. But Sting had been kind to him since then. He had a plan. Rogue decided that that shouldn't have any bearing on if or not he was in love with Sting. He looked at the back of the knights head, trying to figure out his feelings. He closed his eyes as they kept riding, Sting still not answering his question.

He felt safe with Sting. And he did like him. Romantically? Maybe? He didn't really have a frame of reference. "You love me?" He asked again softly. So quietly that only Rogue's draconic senses allowed him to pick it up, Sting acquiesced. "How do you know?"

Sir Eucliffe jumped at the gentle, curious tone. He wasn't sure what else he had expected, but for some reason, it wasn't this. "I want to be closer to you. And I think about you all the time, even when I can't see you. I want to keep seeing you. I don't mind if you don't feel the same way." He whispered as the gates to the palace opened.

"I- I'm not sure how I feel. But I like you and I want to stay with you. I think I feel the same way you do." Rogue admitted. He did feel all of those things. He clutched Sting more tightly, knowing that soon, he would have to let go.

Sir Eucliffe was announced soon after. He made his way to the throne room with a large escort, Rogue in tow. As they entered, he briefly brushed against Rogue's hand with his own, an encouraging smile on his face.

The king sat on his throne, disdainfully looking down at them. His face twisted to feign kindness as they approached. "Sir Eucliffe! I see you completed your first task. You've acted faster than I had expected. Congratulations on capturing the witch. The guards will take him off your hands." Helplessly, Sir Eucliffe watched as a guard roughly grabbed Rogue by his arm as the King continued to speak, waiting for the king to finish talking. Interrupting him was a punishable offense. "I expect that you'll be leaving soon?" Though Rogue was perfectly cooperative despite the rough treatment, one of the guards grabbed his hair, twisting it to bring Rogue to his knees.

"One moment please." Sir Eucliffe requested. The king nodded his assent. With that, Sir Eucliffe strode over to where the guards were manhandling Rogue. "Let him go. I need him for this." He ordered coldly. The guards turned to the king, who once again nodded. Immediately, they released their grip on Rogue. Sir Eucliffe helped him to his feet, taking his scaled wrist in his hand. "I request permission to approach, your Majesty."

"Denied. Why?"

"Rogue has been cursed. It forces him to transform into a dragon. The cuff you provided me with have halted the curse indefinitely." He pulled Rogue's sleeve back, giving his wrist an apologetic squeeze. "I show you those scales as proof, your Majesty." He explained, holding Rogue's arm out towards the king.

"You may approach."

The two of them slowly approached the throne, showing Rogue's arm to the king. The king ran his fingers across the scales, to Rogue's visible discomfort. "Since the cuffs seal the curse, I would like him to be released." Sir Eucliffe requested. The king stared at him with cold, baleful eyes.

"Guards. Remove the witch. This impertinent fool and I have a lot to discuss." At once, they were surrounded, Rogue again being grabbed by the hair and dragged away. "Let me make two things very clear, Eucliffe: Firstly, you have no right to ask anything of me. I am giving you a second chance. Secondly, I don't care about the witch's circumstances. The people are going to see that I have captured the witch they have feared for years, and when they have all seen him and sung my praises, I'm sure many will pay to see a freak like him once again. Now go back out there and retrieve the Heart for me or die here in disgrace."

Panic shot through Rogue's veins as he heard the king's words, causing him to freeze up. His body wanted to flee, but his mind knew, rationally, that he would only make things worse for himself. Unfortunately, the guards kept pulling on his hair, and before he knew it, he found himself on the floor. Hastily, he tried to find his feet, but the guards continued to drag him, and his feet couldn't find enough purchase on the ground to get him up. Until suddenly, the guards could no longer move him, as the cuffs worked their magic.

"You want the Heart, your Majesty? Well I'll show you the heart." Sir Eucliffe said, regretful and yet not surprised that it had come to that. He pulled the Heart of the Northern Skies out from under his shirt, revealing the dazzling jewel. With every ounce of his body, he felt its power respond to his determination, surging through him as it waited to bend the world to his whims. Right now, he was invincible! Lost for words, the king stared at him, mouth agape. He knew it too.

Four wishes. That's how many the Heart of the Northern Skies could grant. One for every 77 years that passed. He knew it instinctively, as though that knowledge had always been there.

He had made his plans quite carefully, at least well enough to know his first two wishes. He knew to word them carefully, having read tales of being that could twist wishes to the maker's undoing. He didn't know if the Heart was one of them, but the fewer chances he took, the better.

"I wish for the ability to control the land and the waters in their entirety, as much or as little as I please." No sooner than the words were spoken, Sir Eucliffe felt the power within him take form. Suddenly, he could feel the world around him, his own to command. He reached out to the earth below the city and willed it to shake, and for a moment it did. Some of the guards fell to their knees, while others started to flee. One, however, had drawn his sword, holding the blade to Rogue's throat.

"Stand down, knave, or I shall tear out the witch's throat and feed him to the crows!" He threatened. Rogue eyed the sharp blade, before turning to look at Sting. The king stood up, livid and more than a little terrified. On stiff legs, he made his way to Rogue and roughly grabbed his arm, or more precisely the cuff. On instinct, Rogue tried to pull his arm away, but the guard tightened his grip on his hair. "Stay still!" He barked tensely. Rogue complied, given that the lunatic was holding a blade to his throat. Sting was clearly seething, trying to find a way around this.

The cuff fell away, and the guard tightened his grip furthermore, dashing any hopes of escape. The king did something to the cuff, muttering angrily, before ordering the guard to draw blood from Rogue. At once, the blade sliced the skin of his neck. The smell of blood filled the air, the warm blood dripping down his neck, soaking his shirt. He stifled a cry as the king dug a finger into the wound, before smearing the blood onto the cuff and clasping it onto Rogue's wrist once more. Or at least he tried.

For the guard had moved the blade to allow the king to gather blood, and thus gave Rogue the space he needed. He yanked his arm away at the last moment and spun around, grasping the guard's sword arm with one hand and kicking the king in the gut, sending him scrambling. Squeezing the guard's wrist, Rogue forced him to drop his sword, before kicking him away and fleeing towards Sting. Separated from the first cuff, the second too fell away, freeing Rogue at long last.

Once Rogue was by his side, Sir Eucliffe -No! Sting- didn't waste a second. The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he growled: "Enough!" Everyone left in the audience chamber froze, watching the former knight, hanging on to his every word. "Rogue and I will leave. You will not pursue us. If you see either of us in this kingdom again, I suggest that you mind your business, under pain of death. Am I making myself clear?" Frightened nods and mutters of agreement rippled throughout the room, but the king stayed silent. "Your Majesty?" Venom dripped from Sting's words like the blood from Rogue's throat, making the king quake in his boots.

"Yes. You are." The king spat out.

With but a look, Sting asked Rogue to fly them out of the city. Obsidian colored wings sprouted from Rogue's back, followed by a soft smile. "Where to?"

After looping back to pick up Solence, they made their way to the mountains. In a small wood on the way, Sting decided to make his second wish. "Do you want your whole curse to go, or just the parts you can't control?" He asked Rogue. Without hesitation Rogue picked the latter. It was what he was used to. It was part of who he was.

Sting made his wish, transferring most of Rogue's curse to Solence.

In but a moment, Solence transformed, becoming more reptilian in nature, her eyes becoming more intelligent by the second, until a dragon stood in her place. Meanwhile, Rogue could feel his curse weaken, like a weight off his shoulders.

"Good evening. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Solence, at your service!" The dragon chattered, beaming at them.

"Sol? How are you feeling?" Rogue asked.

"Better than ever!" Solence chirped loudly. Sting smiled.

"Good to hear! Quick question. Do you want to stay with us, go your separate way or decide later?" He asked bluntly.

"Ooh! I want to stay. You're both fun."

Sting's third wish was for Shadow to pass on, to let go of vengeance and to go reunite with the one he loved.

And the fourth? That one was for emergencies. Sting hoped from the bottom of his heart that he would never have to use it.

The three of them continued their journey, Solence flying them into the mountains. Deep within them, they came to a halt.

"This place would be perfect!" Sting exclaimed. Rogue couldn't see how. The slopes were steep and the wind howled constantly. But as Sting called upon his powers, the place started to change around them. One of the mountains started to sprout walls and pathways and windows, becoming something between a mountain and a fortress. Springs spewed from the sides, forming waterfalls and streams. Trees and grass and wildflowers grew on the mountains. Moss and vines and other flowers grew throughout the fortress. Trees sprouted, bearing fruit. Rogue thought he could see vegetable gardens. Sting grabbed his hand, running towards their new home, Sol flying along behind them. Inside, there were many rooms, large and small. Some were open and flat, whilst others were made up entirely of shelves and corners. Fluorescent moss grew all over the place, in green and yellow and blue for the most part, though other colors popped up on occasion. "Wow! It turned out way better than I thought!"

"It's beautiful, Sting." Rogue praised him as they looked around.

"Yeah! It's so shiny! Solence agreed, the multicolored moss turning her midnight scales as stunning as the Heart of the Northern Skies itself as she flew around one of the larger rooms.

Even inside the fortress, streams flowed, one even leading to a small lake, while others passed through small pools.

Rogue dipped his hand into the water, finding it pleasantly cool. "Is it too cold?" Sting asked. "I can make it warmer."

"No, I think it's nice." Rogue said. With a splash, Sol dived in, soaking the other two.

"I agree!" She chirped joyfully.

The next few days were spent traveling to get supplies Sting couldn't make. Solence and Sting went to get the larger things, while Rogue got the smaller ones, using the money they had left over from selling the wagon.

He flew from town to town, landing out of sight so as not to scare the villagers. In the end, he found the town where he'd met the other witches. He already had most of what they needed. He just wanted to pick up some flour and recipes. Sting had talked about trying to make some treats. He wandered the market, looking at the stalls.

"Rogue?" A faintly familiar voice called out. He turned around, to find himself face to face with Lisanna. "How have you been? You look far better." She said.

"I am. I'm living in the mountains again, with Sting and Sol. Lucy was right, the curse stopped spreading! Speaking of which, how are you guys?" He asked, happy to see a familiar face.

"We've been doing well. Natsu's employer found out about his powers, but he agreed to keep it a secret. He even got a raise, because fire magic is really useful when blacksmithing!" Lisanna told him proudly.

"That's wonderful!"

"Right? And Lucy's writing another book. She won't let me read it yet, but I know it will be good! And I'm working at the Violet Road Bakery now! It's been fun. We've been doing pretty well for ourselves."

"Really? Then you wouldn't happen to have any recipes to share with me?" They chatted for a short while, Lisanna writing down some recipes as they did. He bought his flour and bade her goodbye, promising to visit again.

He flew home, to find that Sting and Sol had already returned, animatedly talking about a hunting expedition up north. Rogue dropped his purchases off in the designated kitchen area and joined them, sitting down beside Sting and listening to him talk about his plan. "We should only be gone for a few days. Rogue, since it's a surprise for you, you should probably stay here. Do you mind?"

"A surprise?" Rogue asked. "What is it?"

"It's-" "Solence we talked about this." Sting interrupted her before she could reveal his master plan. Take down five Winter Wolves. They were a menace up north, and they were enormous. He would be paid handsomely and he would get to keep the furs. Besides, rumor had it that they tasted good. They would need five furs, he and Solence had decided. Three for her nest and two for his and Rogue's shared bed.

While not officially courting, they had gotten used to sleeping side by side, they had continued to do so. On many a night, one or the other would wake up to find himself fully entangled with the other.

A month later, the night before Sting and Sol's hunting expedition, Rogue decided to broach the subject of a romantic relationship.

"Sting? Can we talk?" He asked gently.

"We are, aren't we?" Sting quipped. Rogue rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Not the time?"

"Not really. I wanted to talk about us. What you said about love." Rogue admitted bashfully. Sting smiled.

"Alright. Well, my feelings haven't changed. I love you." He said sincerely, smiling as Rogue's face flushed red again.

Rogue took a steadying breath. "I love you too. I've been thinking about what you said. I've started making other friends, and I don't feel the same way about them." Sting's eyes brimmed with tears, taking Rogue by surprise. Not as much as the hug that followed.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." The words were like music to Rogue's ears, and he returned Sting's hug.

"I love you too. You don't need to cry." Rogue whispered softly, his breath brushing past Sting's ear. Sting shuddered, causing Rogue to hold him more tightly. After a few moments, Sting pulled back to look at Rogue again. Warm red eyes looked back at him.

"I want to kiss you." Sting stated, trying not to get lost in Rogue's eyes.

"Do it then." Rogue invited him, a small smile on his face. Sting didn't need further invitation, leaning in to capture his lips.

It felt like coming home, or seeing the sun rise for the first time, or stepping into the shade after hours in the sun, and so many other things, both comforting and exciting.

When they finally broke apart, after what felt like an eternity (probably a few seconds), Sting grinned at the large smile on Rogue's face.

"You're pretty." Rogue told him earnestly.

Sting struggled to come up with a response. Honestly, it was unfair of Rogue to throw that at him when he had just kissed him. "Takes one to know one." Really? That was what he had settled on? Rogue chuckled, and good grief he looked like an angel. His laugh was contagious, and soon Sting was laughing right along with him.

Sting's laugh was beautiful. That was simply a fact. One that Rogue was quickly rediscovering.

Neither expected to sleep that night, too giddy at finally having said told the other how they felt. But they did, and quite quickly, curled up together on their bed. The next morning, Sting and Sol bade Rogue farewell, to embark on their next adventure. Once they had left, Rogue made his way to his friends' town. He'd visited them several times in the past month, and had even introduced them to Sol. They had adored her, Lisanna especially. Even more so when Sol, upon discovering Lisanna's shapeshifting ability, had challenged her to several races. None of them were fond of Sting, and had no interest in meeting him again, and Rogue hadn't pushed the subject. Today, he was going to visit the library. Lucy had promised to show it to him.

The king's soldiers had come after them about a week after their escape to attempt to wrest the heart from Sting, but without success. Rogue could only hope that they had given up.

That would be all it took for them to have their happily ever after.

[heroineimages]

Majestic!

half-body commission ❄🔥

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[caesariawritesstuff]

Dogs with Lasers

Summary: Eddie goes to the pound to get some dogs for his laser scheme but leaves with more than he bargained for.

Content Warning: Implied animal abuse, descriptions of a dog pound

Word Count: 857

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ● Masterlist ●

Edward was going to do it.

His plan was perfect. Batman may have a shark contingency plan, but Edward was sure he did not have a dog contingency plan. Lasers, Batman would see coming, but dogs with lasers? Oh no, Edward was certain Batman would not see that coming at all. He’d studied Batman’s suits, his utility belt, his entire arsenal – he had nothing to prepare himself for an onslaught of vicious dogs with lasers strapped to their heads.

It was perfect.

And that was how Edward found himself outside the Gotham Pound. The building was large and white, made entirely of concrete. A shadow loomed over it, ominous and foreboding, as if bathed in its own darkness. Edward strolled inside, wearing his best green suit that fitted nicely to his form. He’d already called ahead – something he shouldn’t have to do, they should just accommodate his genius – but alas, everyone else was too stupid. He sighed; he’d just have to deal with their stupidity to get the job done.

He did not know what kind of dog he was looking for as he strolled into the building. The door slammed shut with a heavy bang behind him, and a cold chill crept along his skin. There was an eerie ominous silence. The entire lobby was made of white tile and flickering lights. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling, and dirt smudged along the tiles. The entire place looked dumpy, but he didn’t mind, he was only here for one reason. A man at the front desk looked up at him, peering at him over his thick-framed glasses.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, letting out a sigh of annoyance.

“I’m here to look at your mutts,” Edward said in his most pleasant tone. “I called ahead.”

The man looked him up and down, the edges of his lips turning downward. He sighed, but shook his head and gestured for Edward to follow him. “Well, we have quite the selection. But I must warn you that most of our dogs are violent and vicious.”

Edward smirked. “Exactly what I’m looking for.”

The man shot him a look, but led him to a giant, metallic double door at the end of the flickering hallway. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked it, swinging the door open – and as it did, the sudden barking and howling of a dozen dogs filled Edward’s ears. Surrounding him on either sides were small cages, and each one contained a dog of every kind and size and breed. But as he approached further – something in Edward’s stomach sunk.

This was not what he was expecting. He knew the pound would not be a pleasant place, but this…so many small faces looked up at him with sad, tired eyes, frightened eyes, the eyes of an animal caged and abused for too long. Edward frowned, looking around at each tiny face, each wet nose, each flat tail. Some cowered back, baring their teeth, growling low in their throats. Others turned away and hid from his careful gaze. Some shook uncontrollably, as if he may strike them at any moment.

And for a moment, Edward realized that his plan was going to fail. Not because there was not an array of dogs to choose from. Not because he wasn’t capable of finding the perfect mongrels – but because these dogs were bruised and broken and looking for one thing: love. They were looking for a home, for someone to care for them, for attention. Something, perhaps, that Edward had been looking for too. Even if he might not admit it allowed.       

He adjusted his grip on his cane and looked around at the dogs around him. Well, he certainly couldn’t leave them here, now could he? He turned and walked up to one of the cages, peering down at a large German Shepard with dark eyes, who blinked at him. In the cage beside it sat another German Shepard, skinny and in need of a good meal. He had not expected to come here and find these animals so mistreated and in need of a good home.

Edward paced up and down the aisle, peering at each and every dog in desperate need of a place to live and to be cared for. His heart suddenly ached, a deep gnawing pain throbbed at his insides. Well…he certainly couldn’t subject these poor creatures to his original plan, now could he? But he could do something else.

He turned on his heels and looked at the man. “I’ll take them all,” he said.

“What?” the man asked, blinking.

“You heard me,” Edward said. “I will take them all.”

The man studied him from head to toe, before giving a lazy shrug. “Very well. I’ll get the paperwork started.” He turned back and headed towards the lobby.

Edward smiled, glancing back at the two German Shepards in their cages. He already had their names picked out – and he would make sure each of these dogs found their way to a good home. This certainly went against his plan, but, well…the dogs with lasers could wait.

[morgana-ren]

Gross boy incel Tomura is 🔥🔥

Oh God, you are so right.

No matter how old I get, how much time passes, whatever else have you, I am still utterly obsessed with that angry lil' freak of nature.

I love all of my hyperfixations, but Tomura was the true first. The one that sparked this whole shitty blog and my shitty writing and all of it. There's just something about him that gets me.

He's a fucking wreck. That's what it is.

He's a hate-filled, angry, vicious, snapping little mongrel. He curses the world around him to the point of aspiring to burn it down. He sits in a dark room all day, plotting and dreaming and escaping. The world looks at him with disgust and he looks back in equal measure, apathetic to the judgement he receives because the world is a filthy, wretched place and like a damn its judgement means fucking anything. He never learned to deal with his grievances and so they seep from him and infect everything he touches. Deep down, he is in excruciating pain and grief becomes anger becomes violence.

I think I could never truly leave Tomura because I get him. I understand it. I don't wanna change him and make him a fucking hero or clean him up or make him more palatable. I want him: The hateful, venom-spitting little arsonist who wants to watch it all burn. I wanna close the blackout curtains when the sun rises with him. I wanna sit in a wretched little room and eat dollar store ramen. I wanna spend too much time playing video games and talking about what we'd do if we had the power to enact actual change.

.......Or maybe I just wanna live on my knees for him and I don't have to make it all fuckin' deep and wannabe philosophical lmao. I love this little man so m u c h.

Been a while but I'm sure I've got some ideas tucked back and away somewhere for him lmao

[jacaeryse]

@halfyearsqueen - plotted starter

ㅤㅤㅤJacaerys was restless. Two baseborn men had succeeded in claiming dragons of their own, succeeding where their peers had failed. He had witnessed countless of them fail, succumbing to flame or being devoured whole. It had been his idea to search for Dragonseeds and enlist them to their cause.  Vermithor and Silverwing were large enough to rival Vhagar, who remained a threat to Queen Rhaenyra and her forces. Jace should have been excited. They now stood a fighting chance against the Greens. But he couldn't ignore what would now be obvious for all to see. ㅤㅤㅤEven somebody as common and uncouth as Ulf could command a dragon. What was to stop him from usurping the throne because of it? Jace's bond with Vermax had proven his legitimacy time and time again, quieting a vicious court and their ruthless gossip. Rhaenyra had seen his plan through, leaving Jacaerys with a sickly feeling that he couldn't shake. One day he would have to contend with these mongrels for the throne, and Vermax was a fraction of their size. Jace had tried his best to distract himself by pouring over Valyrian history but had failed desperately time and time again. His mind drifted back to a conversation with his mother that had lingered like a burn.

ㅤㅤㅤ"Then don't pursue it."

ㅤㅤㅤ"But I cannot gainsay that which the gods have laid before me."

ㅤㅤㅤJace caught silver hair in the corner of his eye. A stray dragonseed? He had thought them all sent away or burned to a crisp. This girl appeared to be his age and was dressed far too nicely to be common. She carried herself with a regal air, but that didn't prevent her from earning his contempt. He snaps his book shut, alerting her to his presence. Jace steps forward, his brown eyes hard and unyielding. "If you've come seeking dragons, you're far too late. Now be gone. All the others have already returned home; I suggest you do the same." 

[beecreeper]

what does briar think of auntie ethel? do they get along or is it sort of a "stop cramping my style" situation. what do you think auntie ethel's most vicious mockery for the lot of the fellas would be

Sorry for the last response! I had to chew on those vicious mockery lines for a while. Long answer under the cut!

Briar is mad as hell at Ethel for taking her eye and not fixing the tadpole thing. She went to Ethel pretty late, after talking to Halsin about the tadpoles but before defeating the goblins. She kinda went into denial when Halsin said that their tadpoles were special and not removeable without traveling to Moonrise, so she convinced the party to go try out that weird old lady they had talked to earlier. The whole party got progressively more uncomfortable as it became PAINFULLY OBVIOUS that Ethel was a hag and not to be trusted, but Briar kept dragging them along anyway because she was myopically obsessed with getting her tadpole out. She took the Ethel’s deal while the rest of the party was yelling “GIRL WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” Afterwards Briar was PISSED and wanted to track Ethel down and FORCE her to take the tadpole out, but she (read: me the player) was unable to find the entrance to Ethel’s lair and also all her companions wanted to have a stern talk with her about why she’s behaving like a crazy person (leading to them forcing her to admit her memory loss that she’d been keeping secret up to that point). But yeah anyway, they didn’t have any other interactions beyond that which is honestly a shame but that’s how it rolled.

As for the vicious mockery:

Briar – gonna take shots at her memory loss mostly, since that is by far the thing that makes her feel the most vulnerable and weak.

“I got a good look at that empty skull of yours when I took yer eye. Want a few new holes to match?”

“You thinking gutting folks is gonna tell you who you are? You must be dumber than you look.”

(If encountered in Act 3) “It must have been so easy to spill the brains from that soft head of yours”

Molli – there’s a lot of lines in game already that would work really well for Molli also (the line for Astarion about “liking being leashed” is particularly applicable). The general pattern would be lines that allude to her being a slave, “belonging” there, or enjoying it.

“Don’t worry petal. I’ll get you chained up again soon enough, where you belong.”

“You call that horrid screeching ‘music’? It’s no wonder someone was so eager to gag you.”

(If she’s romancing Astarion) “A slave for a slave? You really are pathetic.”

Ferox – Lines for Ferox are gonna attack all the worries he has about his bloodlust, his broken oath, and his missing past. Honestly, the in game line “All that bloodlust! A little tap and I bet you wouldn't know friend from foe!” is something what would hit him HARD.

“Bones, oaths, mirrors – is there anything you don’t break?”

“Play the hero all you want, it won’t wash all that blood off of your hands”

“Do you even know how many people you’ve slaughtered, you braindead butcher?”

Myrala – The easy joke is to make fun of her hand, but the ones that would really hit her are about being useless or wasting her “redemption”

“You’re no better than the slum rat you started as.”

“How does someone manage to work so hard to do nothing?”

“Need a hand, underscum?”

Poppy – the thing Poppy feels worst about it leaving her parents behind and how she never gets to *really* connect with people because she feels like she *has* to keep moving.

“You half breed mongrel. You don’t belong anywhere, do you?”

“I’m gonna send you back to yer mama in pieces, half pint”

“Maybe you’ll finally stay put if I put you in the ground.”