#Inner Sea Races

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplaying Races 13: Strix

(art by Akerion on DeviantArt)

 We’re back with another special on the various playable ancestries/races in Pathfinder, and honestly, we’re actually running fairly low on those that we have not covered. Don’t fret though, that just means we’ll move on to their 2nd edition versions!

In any case, today we are tackling the strix, a species that have a long history that unfortunately has some relatively recent bad blood with humanity.

While not humanoid in form as they are in the game, the word strix was used to describe a mythological “bloodthirsty monster in bird form”, that flew with their heads low and the legs up high, blending in ideas of both bats and owls. Early references credit the strix with tormenting infants as night, while later versions had them outright killing and eating infants and adults alike.

Following that Greek origin and the general assumption that people have long made monsters out of ordinary nocturnal animals that didn’t want anything to do with them, we can see how Pathfinder’s strix starts to take shape, not just in form, but also in how they are treated.

 In Pathfinder, the strix (or itarii, to use the name they call themselves) are a people of humanoids most distinguished by their fully functional wings on their back. In the continent of Avistan, the only confirmed enclave of these avian beings is a jagged mountain range in Cheliax called the Devil’s Perch. However, their history goes back further than that.

Supposedly, the strix were created by syrinx owl-men of Arcadia to be their favored servants in their tyrannical empire that favors those that can fly and enslaves all others. However, while it is possible some strix still live under syrinx rule, this has not been explored yet. However, many clans of strix have left the syrinx behind, settling other parts of Arcadia, the shattered remains of Azlant, and indeed, the group that came to Devil’s Perch. (though they did not arrive their by choice, apparently being separated from their kin by a titanic storm.)

While we’ve only seen glimpses of the Arcadian and Azlanti strix, who do not harbor any ill-will towards humanity, the cause of which is well-deserved, though colored by how the strix view the world.

Indeed, the strix did at one point ally themselves with Aspex, the first king of Cheliax, who agreed to leave them to their devices. Later rulers would flaunt that agreement, and the strix, who mistakenly assume that humans are as tight-knit and singular as they are, believed they have been betrayed and that humans were untrustworthy as a rule.

This escalated as the strix began attacking Chelish pioneers and soldiers as invaders and villains, and the Chelish in kind fought back against these “savages”.

It may yet be possible to mend these relationships, especially if the strix got back in regular contact with their kin across the sea, who know no such hatred, but that remains to be seen.

 Superficially, strix resemble humans with their mammalian, primate-like traits, but the more one looks at them, the more clear they are clearly something different, and not just in the large wings that sprout from their backs. Strix stand about 6 feet tall on average, and their skin tones and plumage range from a dark blue-black to more human-like skin tones and lighter feathers as well. They have human-like hair, but long, pointed ears than hang out to the side at a slightly drooping angle, setting them apart from elven ears. Meanwhile, the eyes of a strix are large and seem pupiless due to the darkness of their large irises. What’s more, said eyes cannot rotate in their sockets, requiring the strix to move their heads to focus on individual details, giving them a distinctly bird-like manner as they take in their environment.Their bodies typically are lean with well-defined muscle, especially in the chest to help drive their flight. Finally, their feet sport powerful talons, and have a distinctly raptoral structure.

Itarii society is matriarchal and close-knit, with individual families or tribes living communally under the oldest and wisest female member, called a rokoa. The needs of the community outweigh the needs of the individual usually, and due to their small numbers in Avistan, the loss of even a single of their number is considered devastating. It is that tight-knit society that has kept them alive, but also what has led to so many misunderstandings with humans and other people, though obviously the blame still truly rests with the Chelish humans whose mistreatment and brutality led to their long-standing hatred.

 The strix are agile, but their insular nature means they aren’t exactly social outside their own kind.

While they are just as fast on land as humans, they really shine in the air, flying swiftly and with great agility.

True to the owls they were drawn from both conceptually and in regards to the syrinx, strix have powerful eyes capable of seeing in low to no light, and are especially perceptive in the dark.

Whether it is purely from viciousness or special training, strix often know the best way to strike true against human targets.

Their distrust of outsiders, particularly humans, also makes them suspicious of magic meant to deceive them.

 Of course, not all strix are from Devil’s Perch, and many others have differing traits beside. These might include practicing nonlethal combat so their own combat rarely leaves lasting harm on their kin or upon others they do not wish to kill, while others trade their night-sight to guard their people during the day. Some adopt a fierce demeanor to unnerve potential attackers, while others are especially agile and able to avoid attacks. Some are especially tough instead. And some, whether by deformity or injury, have weak wings, flying much slower and clumsier and ostracized by their kin. They make up for this by learning to better deal with outsiders, making them the envoys of the itarii people, albeit those strangely distant from their kin.

 With their aerial superiority and dex bonus, the most obvious class for the itarii to take is some sort of ranged martial class like fighter, ranger, bomb-focused alchemist, and the like. However, don’t underestimate the power of the Fly-by Attack feat, especially if you complement it with feats or abilities that let you deal some strong damage with a single attack, such as Vital Strike, cavalier challenge, investigator studied strike, the magus’s spellstrike, or certain bloodrager abilities. As far as casters go, they can easily take any Intelligence or Wisdom caster with no problem, but they suffer a bit in both social roles and Charisma-based spellcasting. However, this can be worked around, especially since they have the range to keep out of reach.

 That will do for today, but it’s interesting to see where strix came from in folklore and how it, however distantly, shaped their portrayal in the game.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Ari + 28. “take it like a good girl and stop whining” + 82. “you think your begging is going to change my mind?"

a fruitful afternoon in the strawberry field

pairing: farmer husband!ari levinson x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, breeding kink, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, no condoms, cockwarming, dry humping, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, little bit of bratting, light bdsm, begging, teasing, pet names (wildflower, honey), aftercare, fluff, established relationship

word count: 2,500ish

a/n: ahhh Eva it took me a little while to come up with a fic from these prompts, but i have a feeling you'll enjoy this one 😅 (at least i hope so!!) i'm pretty happy with how this turned out, and i especially love the concept of strawberry farmer ari levinson. i just love him so much and i hope everyone else does too!! ♡♡

The spring sunshine was warm against your skin, the soft breeze caressing your face and the day seemed all the brighter because you were standing next to your husband, Ari Levinson, in an open field of growing strawberries. And he was looking particularly handsome on that spring afternoon. His brown hair glinted gold in the sun, his cheeks rosy with the heat, and when he looked at you, his blue eyes sparkled like the surface of the sea.

While your thoughts were wandering, Ari was bent down, checking on the growth of his strawberries, which were just beginning to turn from green to red as the warmth of spring deepened into the heat of summer. They would be ripe soon, and in just a few weeks, the fields would be swarming with people who came from all over to pick their own strawberries at Ari’s farm.

But on that spring afternoon, it was just you and Ari, the strawberry fields stretching out around you until they ended in the tree line that separated the farm from the wilderness beyond. You were alone, and your husband looked far too enticing kneeling in the dirt he’d sowed himself for you to pass up an opportunity to show him how much you adored him.

Which was how Ari ended up on his back between the rows of strawberries, your knees planted on either side of his hips and your bare pussy rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. Your sundress fluttered around your thighs as your hips rocked, your hands pressed flat against Ari’s stomach, your fingertips digging into the layer of softness that cushioned his muscles beneath.

“That’s it, wildflower, take what you need—rub that achy little cunt all over daddy’s bulge,” Ari rumbled, his big hands gripping your hips. Neither of you paid any mind to how he was rubbing dirt into the cotton of your sundress, making you just as dirty as him. “Does it feel good, honey?”

You mewled your response, tipping your head back so your face was turned toward the sun. It felt better than good. Ari’s bulge was thick and hard between your thighs, and your slit was already so wet and messy, it made the slide against his rough jeans feel deliciously wonderful. You felt like you could ride Ari’s bulge for hours and never get tired of it. 

But then Ari thrust his hips up from beneath you, bouncing you on his lap and your eyes flew open, finding your husband’s gaze as he stared up at you like a goddess made mortal. Your inner walls clenched around nothing and you whimpered, your arms trembling as your elbows gave out and you collapsed against your husband’s chest. Sizzling pleasure raced down your spine and through your nerves, making you shake and shudder.

“Need your cock, daddy,” you whined, your fingers grabbing fistfuls of Ari’s shirt as you clung to him, your hips still writhing as you stole as much pleasure from his bulge as you could manage. Lifting your head, you sought your husband’s gaze again, giving him your most pitiful pleading look. “Need you to fill me up, wanna feel your big cock stretch my little hole, daddy, please.” 

Ari brushed the backs of his fingers over your cheek and he gave you a regretful look. “Condoms are in the house, wildflower,” he said, his words a reminder that you were off your birth control. And if you’d thought about it harder, you’d have remembered it wasn’t a safe time of the month. 

But you weren’t thinking about the risks or what the two of you had previously discussed. You were thinking about Ari’s cock splitting you open and and his seed spilling deep in your cunt. You were thinking about your belly growing round and swollen with Ari’s baby. You were thinking about your husband breeding you. 

You wanted it so badly, it took your breath away—it was all you wanted. But it wasn’t what the two of you had decided. Still, you were so needy, you couldn’t stop yourself from begging your husband for his cock, even if he wouldn’t breed you. 

“I don’t care, daddy,” you whined, pushing yourself up until you were sitting on Ari’s lap again. His bulge was so hard and heavy between your thighs and you couldn’t stop yourself from rocking harder on it. “I need you—I need you,” you cried, barely stopping yourself from begging him for a baby. Your voice was high and thin and pleading, and you held Ari’s gaze as you trailed your fingers down his chest, hooking them into the hem of his jeans. “I’ll be good, I swear,” you promised, giving him an innocent look.

Ari huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, but his mouth was curving into a grin like he couldn’t help himself when it came to you—and you knew he couldn’t. Ari knew you well enough to know what you really wanted, and you knew your husband well enough that you knew he was close to giving it to you.

“You’re gonna be good for me, huh, honey?” Ari rumbled, his grin spreading wider and his blue eyes sparkling up at you. “So, that means you won’t start begging me to put a baby in your belly when I’m balls deep in your sweet cunt?” Ari asked dryly, raising a playful eyebrow at you. 

Your core clenched at Ari’s words and you instinctively pressed down harder against his bulge, your pussy dripping onto his jeans and soaking the front of his pants. But you ignored your body’s response and nodded, an eager smile on your lips. You knew you were lying, and you knew Ari knew you were lying from the long look he gave you, but you both decided to play along anyway.

“Fine, fine,” Ari huffed, biting back a laugh that shook his chest. His hands gathered the skirt of your sundress and pushed it up until he could see your slick cunt rubbing idly against his bulge. You watched his eyes darken and his mouth curve into a hungry smirk. “Take daddy’s cock out, wildflower.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans for a moment before you managed to get it open. Then you pulled down his fly and reached inside to take his cock in your hands. He was thick and long and perfect and you smiled as you stroked him reverently. But you were too impatient to do more than that, pushing yourself up onto your knees to line yourself up with the tip. 

You were plenty wet, but Ari was so big and thick that it only took the head of his cock pushing into your tight hole for you to start whining. “Daddy, daddy, you’re so big,” you mewled, raising your hips and pressing down again, taking another inch of his hard cock inside you. 

“You begged for this, wildflower,” Ari said through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw popping as you sank your hot cunt down on his cock. “Take it like a good girl and stop whining.” 

His filthy words sent a shiver down your spine and a low moan slipped from your lips as you pushed down on his cock, taking him deeper. Your pussy ached at the stretch, but it was a delicious kind of pain and you wanted more of it. Lifting up, you slammed back down on Ari’s cock, taking him another couple of inches. 

“Oh god, daddy, it feels so good,” you cried on a gasp, fucking yourself on Ari’s cock as you took him deeper with each thrust. 

His hands gripped your hips, holding your dress up out of the way so he could watch you impale yourself on his cock. Otherwise, he laid still between your thighs, content to watch you do all the work, which only made you hotter. 

Your hands let go of his shirt and began playing with your tits, groping yourself through your dress. “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, fucking yourself on his cock, taking him deeper with ever downward thrust. “Your big cock feels so good in my tight little pussy, daddy, just wanna ride your dick all day.”

“Don’t know how long ‘m gonna last, honey, you feel like heaven around me,” Ari murmured, his voice warm and thick as honey on a hot spring day. “So tight and warm and perfect—your perfect pussy wrapped around my dick.” He groaned when you sank down the final inch and your bodies were joined together to the root of his cock. 

You moaned and rocked your hips, feeling his cock shift deep inside you, the tip kissing your cervix and making you clench hard around him. You knew you’d promised to be good, but your need for your husband to breed you was too strong. 

“When you come, come inside me,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Between one moment and the next, Ari’s eyes caught yours and he sat up, one of his hands wrapping around the back of your neck and holding you still on his lap while he half-heartedly glared at you. 

“I thought you were going to be a good girl for me, wildflower,” he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous in that way that made you shiver. Despite the growly tenor of his tone, you knew there was no anger in your husband, and you gave him a playful smile.

“We both know I was lying, daddy,” you said sweetly, innocently batting your lashes at your husband. You leaned in until your lips were ghosting over his, teasing him. “Besides, we both know you love it when I beg you to fuck a baby into me,” you whispered, confidence in your sultry tone. “You wanna plant your seed in me and watch my belly swell with the child we made together, don’t you daddy?”

Ari growled and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, showing you exactly how much he wanted what you described. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“We decided to wait until the summer to get pregnant, honey,” he rumbled, reminding you of the conversations you’d had when you weren’t drunk on his cock. But his free hand was urging your hips to rock on him, making it impossible for you to care about what you’d decided before.

You moaned helplessly, feeling Ari’s cock twitch and throb inside you, the tip rubbing against a spot that made you see stars. Pleasure was swirling through your body, your clit grinding against the base of him, and it was too much. You couldn’t have stopped the words from flowing from your mouth even if you’d wanted to.

“Knock me up, daddy, please, I wanna have your baby,” you begged desperately, uncaring of what you and Ari decided before you’d gone into the fields and sank down on his cock. “I can’t wait until the summer, I want you to put a baby in me now—breed me, please, daddy, daddy, please, please, please.”

Ari groaned as his hand tightened around the back of your neck. “You think your begging is going to change my mind?” he growled, pressing hard, suckling kisses to your neck, his beard rasping over your skin and his teeth nipping at your jaw. “You think your sweet pleading is going to make me forget what we decided?”

In one fluid movement, Ari flipped you onto your back, laying you down in the hay that covered the dirt between the rows of strawberries and he settled his hips between your thighs. His cock sank even deeper into your cunt and you moaned mindlessly, tossing your head back against the soft ground. Ari pushed your knees up toward your chest until you were bent in half in a mating press. His eyes, wild with hunger and desire, met yours, and his mouth twisted into a needy snarl.

“Because it did,” he growled and began fucking you hard and fast. 

His big cock bottoming out in your tight pussy made you scream in pleasure, your fingers diving into your husband’s soft hair. You clung to him while he rutted into you like a man possessed—like a man intent on breeding his wife.  

“We’re making a baby today, honey,” Ari promised, ducking down to capture your lips in a messy, brutal kiss. “I’m fucking you full of my seed right here in the strawberry field until you’re ripe and swollen with my child.” He trailed kisses down your cheek until his mouth was right next to your ear. “You’re going to make such a pretty mommy, wildflower.”

Your whole body clenched at Ari’s filthy words, and all you could do was chant, “yes, yes, yes, daddy, daddy, daddy,” as he pounded into you. Your pleasure built quickly, and it wasn’t long before you were mewling and moaning and writhing beneath Ari’s big body, only for him to pin you down more firmly and reach between your bodies to find your clit.

Ari rubbed your tight little button in harsh circles and you were helpless to the pleasure. You came with a shrill cry, your head tilted back, face turned toward the sun and the smell of earth and strawberries filling your senses. Your body clenched tight, your hands fisting in your husband’s hair as your pussy squeezed his cock. 

With a low groan, Ari followed you over the edge, mumbling, “Gonna make you a mommy, honey, can’t wait to see you round with my child—so pretty, so pretty—my pretty little wildflower.” He pressed deep inside you, and you felt his cock throb in your cunt, his seed spilling into your womb while he groaned his pleasure. 

Ari rocked into you, making you moan as he fucked his come deeper inside you, until you were both trembling with the overstimulation. Digging an arm beneath your back, Ari flipped you both over so he was laying on the ground and you were sprawled across his chest. His come leaked out around where his softening length was still lodged inside you, but neither of you could be bothered with trying to clean it up yet.

The spring sunshine was warm on your back and Ari was strong and sturdy beneath you, his heart beating against his ribcage under your cheek. You smiled to yourself and hoped that Ari’s seed would take. You couldn’t wait to have a child with him, even if it was a little earlier than you’d planned. 

Lifting your head, you caught your husband’s eye and were happy to see he looked just as content as you felt. Leaning up, you caught his lips in a kiss that said everything you needed to say—you loved him, you appreciated him, you couldn’t wait to grow your little family with him. And he returned your feelings in kind, kissing you back. 

The two of you stayed out under the spring sun longer than you’d originally intended when you’d tagged along with Ari to check on the progress of the crop. But it turned out to be a fruitful afternoon in the strawberry field—though it wouldn’t be until well after the strawberries had ripened and been picked that you learned just how successful your spring romp had been.

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate.

Beast and his mate.

Yan! Ishakan x Reader

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Halloo is neva again, is beens longs i had no post any story TvT... well i had some busy stuff to do, so hope you all forgive me.

And this first my series Manhwa chara, soons will be much chara came out, so stay alwalys love🦋🦋.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

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Fire, blood and corpses'

is a view from a small village in the far west which has unspoiled natural beauty.

However, all of that was damaged when an invasion from a foreign continental kingdom came into conflict with another kingdom, resulting in several villages being affected by the conflict.

Day and night only the sound of screams, sadness, wrath, and much more, the beautiful village has become a sea of ​​blood of innocent people.

Village of a thousand nights, a village for nature people which has a million cultures and also unbeatable beauty. village for the Antrabeth race.

Hair is blue as bright as the sky, the brighter and smoother the hair, the higher the inner bond with nature.

They are a closed people, living in a mountainous environment covered by forests and sunlight. However, their blood is their curse, the anthrabeth race is famous for their blood which can cure all diseases for those who drink the blood and also the blood of those who seek a long, eternal life.

The Antrabeth race is the enemy of the witch and the kurkans, the witch really like experimenting and some stuff unormalize thing and the kurkans believe that marrying an antrabeth race will produce invincible offspring.

However, the world thinks that the Antrabeth Tribe is just a myth, because their existence cannot be proven.

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The stomping of feet and gasping for breath were silent witnesses in the night.

You, running with your aunt, managed to survive the post-war tragedy between the neighboring kingdom and the kingdom where you live.

The war between these two kingdoms caused damage to small villages, one of which was Antra village, a village for the Antrabeth tribe.

You and your aunt Reane are running from the pursuit of knights from an enemy kingdom who are ordered to kill women and kill men for blood.

Entering the border of the dense forest, your aunt stopped running, you who were running beside her also stopped, your breath was short, with the throbbing of blood flowing very quickly.

Your aunt could only stare at you sadly as you pressed your foreheads together.

"Run, nephew, don't let them catch you!" Your aunt's voice shook violently, ordering you to run as if this was a goodbye.

"What do you mean aunt?! We'll be safe, okay?" Enough lives have been lost tonight! I don't want to lose you too auntie!!." With a voice shaking with sadness you rejected your aunt's idea as if asking you to run.

"Don't be stupid!, they won't stop chasing us until one of us died. Listen nephew, the antrabeth tribe, our family is on the verge of extinction because of our blood, you have to run, save yourself."

"But auntie?! I can't!" you could only cry as your aunt pushed you hard.

"Run, don't let they catch you!" That was the last sound of your aunt running against the current, the voices of the enemy kingdom's knights shouting with a joyful hum as if they had caught a good catch.

You could only stare at the light of the torches and the sound of the horses' stampedes that were getting louder and louder. disappear. Your aunt, has been captured by the enemy knights.

Certainly, once they get your aunt's blood, your aunt will be killed just like that.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you can only run forward, entering the forest deeper, the dark forest with the sound of animal sounds and moonlight are the only things that accompany your sad night.

Running with all your might you can only feel deep sadness, your mother and father were killed cruelly when your father and mother tried to save you, the inhabitants of the antrabeth tribe, the men were killed very cruelly, the women women and children were also killed old and young.

They only seek 1 thing, blood, the blood of the antrabeth tribe against the laws of nature, blood that can give long life like eternity and can cure all kinds of diseases.

Your blue hair is tangled, many leaves and twigs that's caught in your hair, the sweat that sticks to your forehead, the roar of your heart beating so fast that it adds to your running adrenaline.

Until your body is at the very high threshold because of tiredness from running and pushing yourself too hard, you stumble and fall, you faint on the mossy ground lit by the moon and surrounded by trees.

A thin mist covers your figure lying pitifully, as if nature is afraid if there is who tries to hurt you again.

Just when your eyes are almost completely closed, you see the silhouette of an old woman looking at you sympathetically. Until total darkness envelopes you.

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A young woman with her hands and feet covered in bandages to heal abrasions, lay weakly and helplessly on an old mattress that had not been used for a long time.

An old woman slowly wiped the dirt that covered the body of the young woman who was lying weakly.

In a soft voice the woman said

"What in seven hells did this poor girl actually experience?"

After cleaning the young woman, the old woman put on a long, soft nightgown.

Carrying a tray carrying a small bucket of murky water and a dirty towel.

Walking slowly, closing the bedroom door gently, leaving the young woman to rest.

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The sound of birds chirping melodiously decorated the beautiful morning in the middle of the dense forest.

Rays of light entered the slightly open window and illuminated a woman resting peacefully on the bed.

Frowning slowly, you opened your eyes slowly but surely, blinking to adjust your vision.

You see a room with minimalist furniture and decoration, with a very pungent smell of dust entering your respiratory tract.

Slowly waking up you look around, wondering who saved your life.

Then you slowly pull aside the blanket that covers your body, staring in shock, your hands and feet are covered with bandages that have a strong herbal aroma.

When you are about to get out of bed and try to stand up you fall onto the wooden floor, making a fairly loud sound.

'Dug'

'Dug'

'Dug'

The sound of quite heavy footsteps can be heard outside this room.

You who fell could only look towards the closed wooden door, until the door opened, indicating that someone had opened it.

There you see an elderly woman, her hair has white strands, skin that is no longer young, with a slightly hunched body.

"Why are you getting out of bed?!, you are not fully recovered!"

Walking slowly, the woman helps you to sit on the bed.

With a still weak voice, you asked the woman.

"Are ... you the one who saved me?"

The woman just nodded her head.

"My name is Esmera" the woman introduced herself as Esmera.

You also introduced yourself to her.

"You're from the Antrabeth tribe, right?" Emsera asked while gently stroking your bright blue hair.

You looked at her warily, thinking that Esmera might have saved you with another intention.

"Don't worry, I don't need your blood, this is just the first time for me to see the Antrabeth tribe directly."

Esmera, the old woman just chuckled softly seeing your confused face, while sitting slowly beside you she said.

"The Antrabeth tribe, everyone on the entire continent thinks that you are just a myth."

You could only stare in confusion, if the Antrabeth tribe is just a myth, why does the enemy kingdom know the existence of the Antra village?

You think, for the first time you finally realize one thing... the antrabeth tribe is a tribe that is close to nature, a village of a thousand nights, a village covered in thick fog and located in a dense forest, how could the enemy kingdom find the village where you live.

Many questions crossed your mind.

"I don't know what happened to you, , but from what I know, your presence can endanger you.".

You who were confused asked Esmera why that was.

The old woman just sighed while looking at you she said.

"Your tribe has not appeared on several common continents for more than 100 years, just your appearance is enough to shake the world."

You could only be silent hearing Esmera's words.

Then when you were about to speak, Esmera cut you off first.

"You are even more unsafe once you meet the Kurkans."

You who have been living in the depths of the forest just stared confusedly and chanted the name of the Kurkan tribe, asking Esmera what Kurkan is.

"Kurkans, are a tribe that has an extraordinary appearance and physical strength and is very strong, they are more often known as barbarians."

"In short, Kurkans will make you a partner if they find you, they are famous for kidnapping partners they choose through their animal blood instincts"

"The Kurkans consider partners important, and if they have acknowledged them as their partners, they will kidnap the person they consider to be their partner, forced or not, they will not let go of the partner they choose easily".

You just stared at Esmera who was busy checking the wounds on your hands and feet.

You then told me about what you experienced, the war, and the massacre.

Esmera looked at you sadly, the woman did not expect the tribe that was thought to be a myth to disappear overnight.

"Of course .... maybe you are the only one left"

Patting your shoulder, Esnera said.

"Let's change your hair and eyes first, because your hair and eyes are the most striking."

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That afternoon you passed by trying to walk slowly.

Esmera is a witch, you as an antrabeth tribe know from the elders to stay away from witches, especially dark witches. At first you were quite afraid of Esmera, but Esmera assured you that she had retired, because Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who guards this forest, the same forest where you fell, the same forest where you will live with Esmera.

Witches have many types, but the most famous are dark witches, because they like to hang their victims from trees, create blood rain, during the blood moon and legal witches usually have the ability to hypnotize their victims and do what they want.

And Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who is usually tasked with guarding a forest or natural environment, and they are witches with a retirement age, when they are 40 years old, they are required to retire, in short like that.

But you remain vigilant, because you have only just met Esmera not long ago.

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It's been 3 months since the incident you experienced before, now you live with Esmera, the woman is willing to take you in, because Esmera also said that sometimes she lives lonely, even though there are forest animals that accompany her.

Your hair and eyes have been changed by Esmera with a potion of drops, just 1 drop is enough.

Your bright blue hair and galaxy-colored eyes have changed to black and brown.

At first you were not used to it, but the effect of this potion only works for 5 hours, Esmera said to use this potion in certain conditions, such as going to the market or when you are being chased by something that could harm you.

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In the afternoon, as usual, you explore the forest with 1 white ferret and a wild deer. Of course you are in disguise, even though this forest is protected by Esmera's magic, you still have to be careful.

Walking enjoying the forest with your two friends on the path you usually take, only to find a man covered in a robe holding his injured stomach.

You who can't see injured people unconsciously approach the man,

"Hello?" you were surprised almost tripping when the man's face appeared in front of you, a handsome face, very exotic brown skin, and... his eyes that had a sharp structure that was bright gold shining.

You have never seen someone with such bright and beautiful eye color, unfortunately you are not aware that your eyes are also very bright and beautiful.

This is the first time you have interacted with someone other than Esmera and the Antrabeth Tribe, and you also don't know who this man is? And from what tribe. That doesn't matter, what's important now is to heal this man and ask him to leave here immediately.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" A harsh and mocking tone.

You don't like this man, okay face, very bad character. But you have the instinct to help others, obviously you won't let this man go just like that.

"I'll help you, in return please get out of here quickly."

The man just looked at you with a suspicious look, but he wasn't as rude as before.

You realized that Esmera would be here soon, and this man might die, because Esmera has a rule that men are destroyers, and they are not allowed to enter this forest.

You think of a quick way, 1 drop of your blood is enough to heal this man's wounds.

"Can you open your mouth?" Asking in a soft and friendly tone. You were only answered with a rough and arrogant voice again, seriously you are now thinking why is this man so arrogant and rude?.

"Why should I open my mouth?! My wound is in my stomach, not in my mouth!".

You dislike this man more and more, you know he suspects you but being rude is also not right and you also realize the two animals that come with you are moving more restlessly.

With one needle prick, you forcefully direct your index finger into the man's mouth, making him inevitably taste 1 drop of your blood.

The man, of course, was surprised and wanted to push you, but he stopped moving when he tasted your blood, blood usually smells like iron and has an unpleasant taste, but your blood, as sweet as nectar, has no iron smell at all.

You wipe your fingers on the man's robe, because there is his saliva left behind.

Then you stand up and say.

"Go immediately, don't ever come back"

Ride the wild deer and ferret that have stayed on your shoulder, you leave the golden-eyed man.

.

.

.

The man just stares at you with a look that is difficult to interpret, then he lifts his shirt a little and sees, the stab wound in his stomach, slowly heals and leaves no scar at all, the man who feeling tired before, became fit and full of energy.

The man slowly stood up out of the forest, his mind still processing who are you?, how can blood heal a very deep and poisonous stab wound?. There were many questions in the man's mind.

The man walked and a few moments later, 2 other men came to the man's side bowing slightly.

"Your Highness, we have been looking for you, it is a relief to see you are okay" the man with a scar on his face spoke, with exotic skin too.

Then followed by a man who had blue eyes with exotic tan skin.

"The rebellion has succeeded your Highness, now all the Kurkans are waiting for you, Your Highness Ishakan".

The man... The King of the Kurkans, the new king of the Kurkans tribe, a tribe with animal blood, a tribe that has extraordinary physical abilities and looks, the King of the Kurkans tribe.

Combing his hair slowly, Ishakan only answered briefly to his two aides, Genin the man with a wound on his face, and Haban the man with blue eyes just stared at Ishakan in confusion.

Then Ishakan said.

"Have you two... ever heard of a case where blood can heal wounds in an instant?"

Haban and Genin just looked at each other. Genin as Ishakan's aide and right hand answered.

"I don't think there is any case like that and it sounds very unreal, your Highness".

Ishakan grinned and said.

"Too bad I just experienced it." Ishakan looked back into the dark forest covered in fog.

"I found something very interesting, a very interesting rabbit."

chuckling while grinning, Ishakan walked away followed by his two aides who just stared confusedly at the forest behind them and walked away, towards their kingdom, the large oasis at the western end of the continent.

Ishakan had found a figure that made his instincts scream ripples, the instinct to claim something that was rightfully his, his mate.

.

.

.

.

*source Images : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

Special Story for my Love; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut

Tag list; @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

[danadaria]

Steddie Olympic AU where Eddie gets on his first Olympics for BMX freestyle, and it's so weird because he has been in competitions for many years but nothing like this, something so big and with so many rules.

His background was being a hyperkinetic kid who didn't really care about his life, and somehow being fearless and doing acrobatics became his career. Still, even then it wasn't so serious.

His thing were the X-games and open exhibitions, with fire, hard rock & metal, tattoos, and having RedBull as a sponsor.

Behind the adrenaline he and his friends are a bunch of clowns who just wanted to fly and have the bones of a child forever.

But now he's here: in the middle of a giant line in an ocean of other athletes, wearing a fucking blazer from Ralph Lauren and with the lamest jeans he had to wear in his entire life.

And everything is kinda awful, because he lost sight of friends (Gareth and Max, both skaters, but they train in the same place), and he just heard there's no McDonald's at the Olympics this year.

He doesn't even like McDonald's so much, but god, he grow up hearing about athletes eating hundreds of burgers and mcnuggets for free, and sue him, but his inner child was super excited about it.

"Are you ok, man?"

Eddie opens his mouth to give a snarky remark when he sees the most beautiful man in existence – GORGEOUS v-shape, honey eyes, pink pouty lips, and kissable moles– looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is okey-dokey" He says lamely.

The most beautiful man in existence snorts at him.

"Okey-dokey? What are you? Five?"

"Probably. I was sad because I found out today there's no free McDonald's this year. Now that I know I'm not sure if it is worth being here"

Eddie's future husband looks surprised for a second and laughs at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I read some people ate so many nuggets they left the Olympics cackling like a chicken: I wanted to be one of them!"

"Oh, yeah. I ate lots of them post-competition"

"See?!"

"Ok, I give you that. But this year there's going to be international cuisine and all that jazz"

"Knowing me, I'm going to get too overwhelmed with the options and I'll end with the saddest oatmeal every day."

"You have lots of food opinions for someone that's on a sports event"

"Well, is either that or thinking that my biggest rivals are a bunch of 15-year-olds from Brazil and Japan."

"Oh? What's your sport?"

"BMX freestyle"

"That's the race in the mountains?"

"That's literally BMX racing."

"Right." He looked ashamed.

Eddie needed to fix that look, now.

"And you? What's your poison?"

"Poison? You mean my sport?" Eddie nods at him encouragingly. "Gymnastics."

"I can see it." Eddie looks at him approvingly, "You have the arms of a gymnast, big boy."

The face of Eddie's future husband turns a beautiful shade of red. And Eddie is just a second away to ask for his name, and his number to change the course of his life, when he feels a hand on the jacket's collar.

"Here you are, loser. We need to go this way!"

And before Eddie can say anything, Max Mayfield (his new arch-nemesis) takes him away from the love of his life.

He says bye with a hand before being cruelly separated, disappearing into a sea of people.

"Do you want to be murdered before or after the opening ceremony, Red?"

"Oh, shut up loser."

____________________________________________________________

Steve is going back with his best friend to their apartment, feeling super frustrated. Somehow, 24 hours ago, he thought it would be a good idea to give his phone to his best friend for the inauguration night to avoid getting too excited and watching videos of the event until 4 am.

And now he was regretting ALL his life choices.

"You don't understand Robin, I met a super cute guy, but I couldn't get his name! I'm only going to search that and nothing else"

"Steve, you made me swear I wouldn't pass your phone on inauguration day, no matter the reason. You need to sleep"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't meet someone when you didn't have your phone!"

"I would understand better than anyone! I met the cutest girl competing at air riffle, aaaand I didn't have my phone either!"

"You gave her your presentation card, didn't you"

"Yes, sorry."

"See? Why didn't you make me buy some for me, too?"

They arrive at their floor. Steve knows they're a little obnoxious, but it was the first night and it's still early.

"Good night, neighbors! Isn't it too early in the event to be fighting?"

Steve looks up so fast, he probably hurt his neck a little bit. At the end of the hallway, sitting on the floor next to a very closed door, was Steve's meet-cute: All smiley, charming, and inviting.

"It's you!"

"Oh! Hi Mr. Gymnastics, and hi unknown lady."

"It's Robin Buckley," She says and goes straight to her apartment, "we probably going to see each other again, so good night".

And she closes the door firmly behind her.

"I didn't have. I mean. I don't have my phone to search for you."

The other boy looks at him, almost evaluating him, before giving Steve a big smile and offering his hand to stretch.

"Eddie Munson."

"Steve Harrington."

"So, would you-"

"There's a McDonald's near where I compete tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"

Eddie stands up and walks until he's in front of Steve. He smiles.

"Would love it. After all, it was my childhood dream."

Steve smiles too.

[hurthermore]

»»------► 𝙳𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚔 (18+)

Pairing: 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Word Count: 𝟹.𝟹𝚔

Warnings: 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜, 𝚟𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚝!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛

A/N: 𝙰 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @lustylita, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 amazing 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠! 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!<𝟹𝟹

Alastor couldn’t help but hate his current environment; surrounded by a mass of dancing idiots who swayed to the distasteful genre of popular modernity and drunkards who insisted on approaching him in an attempt to sexually bed him for the night.

It was too much, almost overwhelming and overstimulating for the alternative man, causing urges of distress to tug on the strands of his hair, creeping up on him surreptitiously. But he had only arrived here for one reason alone; to see you. 

Love was an aspect Alastor had no experience in, an emotion he believed he simply lacked. But when he had first perceived you, witnessed you, he knew he had to have you, had to make you his, one way or another. 

Looking over to the sea of insignificant people within the crowds, Alastor locked his eyes onto your form swaying along to the music. Your form twirling in rhythm, your short skirt flowing along with your movements, revealing the rawness of your upper thighs before you oscillated your head to the beat of the current song. Licking over his sharpened teeth, he felt parched as he continued to observe you; you were perfection.

Yet as another person approached you, his teeth clenched tightly; contrasting against the loving emotions that swelled within him not moments ago. The man who advanced onto you was a friend of yours as Alastor had seen him previously on the days and nights where he would stalk you, had offered you a drink.

The scowl that embraced his face grew as the man stood next to you.

Alastor observed you as you brought the glass to your full and plumped lips, gulping as you took an over exaggerated gulp of the liquid. It was a simple movement, but it was one that reminded him of the reason he had come here in the first place, the idea that had formed in his mind a while ago; to drug you and steal you away from the population of the world.

Yet as you continued to smile in satisfaction whilst you continued to dance, not noticing the heat of Alastor’s stare that was glued to your every move, his emotions began to simmer down, loving the way your arms lifted above your head, causing your skirt to shortening up your thigh, leaving little to no imagination to what lurks beneath. Letting out an erotic, staggered sigh, Alastor’s fingers messed with the creases of his jeans as his cock began to throb with need. 

You looked so ethereal, so utterly beautiful and pretty. He couldn’t believe you even existed; you were like an angel, gracing the world with your mere presence. 

Without taking his eye off you, he became slightly stiff, enraged as your cute movements of dancing ceased to exist. Alastor knew the man was your ‘friend’, someone who didn’t deserve to be so close to you, didn’t deserve to look at you or speak with you; only Alastor deserved that right and that right alone. It was something he planned to make reality. 

Looking over to the bar, he contemplated how to initiate his idea. His body became stiff with shock as he looked back over to you, only to see your eyes perceiving him for the first time.  His heart couldn’t stop racing as you continued to stare at him, your shoulders seeming to tense in a fluster. But the magical moment of you finally noticing him ended as quickly as it began when the man beside you gave Alastor a sneer before whispering in your ear. 

Lies. Whatever he was telling you was lies. 

Sneaking his hand into his inner pocket, he felt the outline of the small transparent bag filled with crushed powder. Content that he hadn’t lost the substance, he made his way to the bar, all the while, he refused to take his sight off you, even as you began to look away from him. 

An act that had his heart cracking ever so slightly in pain.

Ordering two drinks to make the whole situation less suspicious, Alastor couldn't help but steal glances over at you and your disgustingly bland friend; he looked dull, annoying and not worth your precious time. 

Absently thanking and paying the bartender for the drinks, Alastor returned to the secluded table he was leaning on, perfectly hidden within the depths of the club; out of sight and out of mind. Setting the glass on a nearby table, Alastor’s fingers picked up the powdered substance before dusting the white narcotics into the drink intended for you.

He purposely attained spirits, annihilating the need for ice as the powder evaporated within the liquid, visually identical to his own drink. Raising his line of sight to look up at you again, his heart pinched with excitement as your 'friend' walked away from you, stalking his way to the mens room.

Perfect. 

You were now alone, perfectly waiting for him. Just as he wanted.

Slowly lifting himself from the table with two drinks in both hands, he made it a point to keep your drink in his left palm. Stalking over to you, he watched as you stood there, your aura blindingly radiant as you waited for something. 

Were you waiting for him? For Alastor? For him to come and sweep you away and hide you from the world?

He would do it in a heartbeat. 

Only for you.

Suddenly, as he slowly approached you in amble, your eyes locked onto his; your perception fixating on him entirely. He swore he could see your revealing thighs tense ever so slightly as he approached you as your skirt etched up slowly.

Allowing a soft smile to form across his lips, Alastors gaze softened ever so slightly, the desire, the want to look as friendly as possible consuming him entirely. "Hey,” He mumbled next to you with a tinge of awkwardness. “You need a drink?" His grin turned into a soft smirk at your stunned, flustered appearance. 

Were you trying to kill him?

"Oh hello! I-" He could see, visualise that you were unnecessarily nervous, yet not scared.

"Here." He spoke with confidence before gently handing you the glass, carefully resting in his left palm, he waited attentively for your pretty fingers to take it.

"Thank you!" You spoke all too enthusiastically before taking the drink from his hand stunning him, surprising him that you didn't attempt to ask or at least question anything. After bringing the spiked glass to your lips, only to take a large gulp, you continued. "Your name is Alastor isn't it?"

A weird feeling bloomed within the depths of his chest with the notion that you knew him, hoping everything you knew was all good and positive. Smiling, Alastor took a sip of his own drink before nodding his head, his hair swaying with every motion. "Yes dear, it is. And what may I call you beautiful?" He asked, intentionally leading you into the notion that he had no prior acknowledgement of your existence. Yet he had known far more about you than just your name. He knew where you lived, who your friends were, the size of your clothes, the smell of your skin. 

Echoing words from your mouth, his smile tightened as he watched your pretty lips purse into the syllables of your name, echoing each letter with such beauty that had him weak at the knees. "I heard you were a weirdo." You had added, spluttering the information from your lips.

Breezing past the comment with grace, Alastor laughs gently at you, his smile softening as he nudged you softly before regarding you again. "Aren't we all a little weird?" Leaning down ever so slightly closer to you, Alastor couldn't help but take a subtle sniff of your perfume, loving every second of it; it was so unmistakably you.

"Well... I suppose?" Your soft laughter rang in his ears as you took another sip, his steps closing in on you when he saw the powder taking its desired effect, your pupils widening slowly as you peered up at him.

"Would you like to dance?" He grinned, finishing off his glass before placing it on a nearby table; satisfied as you mimicked him, licking your lips as a little stream trailed down the flesh of your jaw.

Looking down at your form, his heart skipped a subtle beat as your hands glided down your outfit, your fingers grazing over yourself ever so sensually before you had gripped your palm around his wrist. "Alright, weird boy, I'll dance with you." You smiled before dragging him along with your steps.

His heart felt as though it was punching through his shaking ribcage as you touched him. 

You had truly touched him.

The flustered sensations that fluttered through his body were incomprehensible, something he wasn’t used to at all. But as you turned around, facing towards him before you continued to guide him through the sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, he could only perceive you. Register you.

He observed you as you twirled around to face him, a smile lighting up your features, willing his unsteady heart to calm down he stepped within your space before letting out a shaky breath, he placed a possessive hand on your waist, beginning to sway along with you.

You felt so good in his hands, like you were made for him. Your hips moulded to the stretch of his palms as he watched you place your hands onto his shoulders, shyness still fluttered against your expression. "Now, now love, I don't bite." He chuckled at your embarrassment, pulling you closer as a fast paced song began to play, his hands forcing your chest to press onto his.

Feeling you pressed against him oh so sensually, Alastor could only allow a shaken breath to whisper from his lips as his cock began to throb at your chest pressed harshly against his; the contours of your breasts enhancing with the squish they were forced into against him. 

Swaying against your body along with the poorly made music, Alastor groaned ever so subtly. He couldn't help but rub his slightly hard member against you as your movements slowly became a bit more staggered, more incoherent as your eyes began to slowly flutter from shut to open; signs that the drug he had slipped into your drink earlier had started to take effect.

"Are you okay, love? You're looking a bit pale." He spoke with faux concern, the underlying tone within his voice relaying his true feelings; excitement.

"I- uhm…" Alastor almost buckled as your face pressed into the crook of his neck, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist before he willed for his throbbing erection to calm down.

Soon, he would have you soon.

"Do you want to come with me, love?" Alastor asked before leaning down, brushing his lips against your ear ever so slightly, revelling in the way your body shuddered, trembled against him.

"Please..." He smirked with glee at your non-combative agreement. Looking back up, Alastor made sure to scope out the club, ensuring that your friend couldn't see the pair of you, walking through the crowd of people before he navigated to the back exit of the building.

Clutching his fingers into the crevice of your waist, Alastor guided you far from the bustling music-induced establishment, and far into the depths of another street, his blood pressure erratic as he dragged your hazy and almost unconscious self towards the back of his car. As he continued to approach his vehicle, he wasn’t expecting you to grip your nails into the hem of his shirt as you tugged him downwards, leading him towards your lips before you, in a lustful haze, kissed him.

He was shocked, to say the least, he was aware the drug would send you into an unconscious fit, but he wasn’t acquainted with the knowledge that it could cause your arousal to peak, forcing you into a sexual mist.

Fumbling desperately for his keys, Alastor finally gripped his fingers onto the metallic object before on them impatiently, finally pulling them out from his tight jeans, a task made difficult with how your tongue felt lapping hungrily at his lips, begging for him to deepen the kiss further.

Jamming down on the button, Alastor crowds you to the back side of the car just past the doors, his lips letting out a shuddered sigh before opening the door to the back seats. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly as he felt the way your soft lips sucked down and lapped at his bottom lip. Moving quickly, Alastor gently pushed you into the back of his car, his lips not once straying from yours.

Grunting as your knees bent backwards, Alastor pushed you along the three seats embedded within the vehicle. Your body sprawled out for him, legs naturally open for him as your eyes locked onto his.

He couldn’t contain himself, control himself; not with you, the lovely specimen he had been pining over for months now, lounged so erotically in his car. Muttering a carnal flurry of soft swears, Alastor pushed himself into the conveyance, forcing himself on top of you before tightly squishing the both of your forms together by closing the door behind, his lips still against the softness of yours lasciviously. 

It felt divine, the way you moved against him, consensually, nonetheless. You tasted so perfect, the way he had always imagined you’d taste, your tongue so soft and utterly delicious.

He almost wanted to eat you.

Flipping you over, he forced your body to lay on top of his, your clothed flesh pressing against his, causing his already aroused state to force his cock to throb into an erection; a flush of pain hitting him harshly as the tightness of his jeans constricted his hardening, fat length. 

Watching you hazily grind down onto him was so much better than all of his imaginative fantasies put together, your soft thighs pressing down against his hips as your soaked cunt dragged against the front of his pants desperately, making Alastor roll his eyes back into his skull. His cock now throbbing painfully; you smelt so good, he needed it, needed to taste it.

“Baby… can you crawl up for me?” He, in all honesty, didn’t intend for his voice to come out as gravelly as it did, but judging on the way your moans cried as you clumsily obeyed what he had instructed before placing your hips to hover his face, your expression showed how you had very much liked the current state you were in. Now with your body in the way, Alastor undid his pants before pulling them down slightly to ease the pain of his cock, allowing his straining length to slap against his abdomen. Grinning up at you, Alastor pulled you closer to him, pressing your thighs to his head so he could get a truly good look and smell of you.

“Delicious… You smell utterly divine.”

Lifting your skirt, his breath hitched as his eyes perceived your soaked, clothed cunt. Gripping his fingers into your plush thighs, he squeezed the flesh, caressing the natural fat as it undulated within his hands before pulling you downwards, his fingers latching into your lingerie, only to cause a tear to rip through the cloth without a second thought.

Ignoring your drowsy mumbled pleas, he pushed your core down onto the seat of his face. His nose pressing into the wetness of your clit as his tongue lapped against the opening of your depths, slurping up the lubricated essence that leaked from your cunt. 

The noises that left your pretty lips filled the car, and despite how your thighs squeezed around the skull of his head, your voiced moans sang through his system, allowing it to vibrate throughout his body, and directly to the throbbing of his cock. Twisting his tongue, Alastors eyes rolled back into the depths of his skull as he rut his hips up, letting out a pleasured huff against your pulsing heat; it was too much all at once. You tasted like ambrosia to him and he feared that he wouldn't be able to get enough.

Pulling your cunt against his face further, Alastor greedily sucked, nipped and lapped up anything he could get from you. Ears muffled and ringing, he could barely hear your cries as pleasure tipped into overstimulation in your hazy state. Moaning into your core, he felt the sensation of your fingers weave messily into his hair before clenching down in an attempt to pull him back, hips twitching with what he desired most.

Your orgasm.

He could feel it, the tremors of your flushed out thighs as you continued to squeeze around him, alluding to your closeness in peak. Staring up at your hunched over form, he felt his cock twitch eagerly as your mouth began to salivate; your glistening drool threatening to splatter against his face.

Snaking his hands up to your hips, his hand latched on to your waist, only to force your body weight to thrust into him further. It felt heavenly, having your sloppy cunt sat on his mouth as you crushed him, constricting his air flow as you squeezed your thighs around his head.

It was only when you began moaning, haze littered within your loud cries of sexual pleasure that Alastor truly found heaven; as your cunt twitched against his mouth along with the erratic rutting of your hips against his face. Soaking up your excessive essence that flowed from your sex, Alastor could only tense up as he began to feel your drugged up form to slowly knock out.

Hands shooting up Alastor holds up your slumped over form, elbows locking with the added weight, peering up at you as best that he could, your hazy half-shut eyes came into view. “Alastor…” Your needy voice stuttered, caressing his ears as he pushed you back. Hissing out a groan, your perfect posterior rubbed against his touch starved erection, yet he ignored the erotic sensation. He carefully placed you onto one of the passenger side seats before tucking a strand of hair back in place, smiling softly at your slumbering form.

You looked ethereal, sprawled out as your eyes closed shut in such a peaceful manner, a sight that had his already throbbing and twitching cock exacerbating. 

He wanted to take you home; truly he did. But the thought of finally consummating with you, moulding you into his little darling had pulled on the strings of his mind and heart more than any logical reasoning. And as he looked down at your glistening cunt whilst you slept through a drugged daze, he gripped the base of his cock, wrapping his sharp and long fingers around the phallic organ. He wanted, wished, desired to penetrate you, to fuck you until those pretty eyes reopened, until your cries of pleasure exceeded the orgasm you had on his face.

Rubbing his leaking tip against your slippery folds, Alastor shuddered as white hot pleasure shot through his spine. You were so warm, so wet, and all his. Barely able to contain his excitement, Alastor thrusted his thickened member into your relaxed, drowsy cunt. The drugs he had intoxicated you with were working wonders on you, giving him near to no issue bottoming out within you, your soft walls clenching down onto his length reflexively.

“Fuck…” Alastor had hardly recognised his own voice, gravelly and wrapped with desperation. As gentle and careful as he could try to be in his current state, his fingers grasped onto the flush of your hips, pulling you into him as he rolled his hips into you further; roughly grinding his tip against your cervix with every thrust. He could feel your slick gathering at the base of his cock, only to drip down his heavy balls. 

He truthfully wasn’t going to last much longer. You felt too good, too divine to stop. Your walls pulsating against his length with every thrust, every sensation of your wet cunt gliding against him; he couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand it. Not when your lips parted, not as your juices splattered against his pelvis, not as your pretty eyes began to hazily flutter open.

[luxxid]

SAYING "I LOVE YOU" RANDOMLY

characters : ayato, albedo, kazuha, aether, al haitham, xiao, ajax, scaramouche, cyno.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, nicknames, reader is being a bit too curious again :/

request: mai mai! imagine the genshin men's reaction to you saying "i love you" randomly. 🤭🤭🤭

ayato who gets caught off guard, he didn't expect you to proclaim such syrupy words. he chagrins, his cheeks turning into a lustrous tincture as he processes the unexpected words. his heart was tromping, he covers it up with a small smile, "how sweet of you, darling." he mutters, yet the hues that were painted on his cheeks never faded away. he was rendered speechless, his eyes aglow with surprise and delight at your compliment. he couldn't help but smile airily, and his heart beat faster as he basked in the moment. oh archons, how he cherished every single second with you, he had never felt more alive.

albedo who gently smiles upon hearing those three words. his head lifted up to face his love, his eyes meeting with yours. he wasn't abashed or flushed, instead he found it quite, cute. he felt a warmth swell in his chest as he embraced the words, feeling as though they were the only thing necessary to make him feel complete. his lips parted into a soft smile in response, hoping his feelings were conveyed in that simple gesture. "i love you too, dove." with a voice full of love and tenderness, his heart raced as he whispered those three words back to you. his feelings were so strong and genuine, they could not be contained. he may not have said much, but it was enough to convey the depth of his love for you.

kazuha who softly grins, his pearly whites dazzling. he embraces your hand in his, gently folding and twiddling with each finger. "my love for you is like this sea, never ending." he vocalizes, those 10 words were enough to make you cherubic and rosy. his words resonate in your heart, touching you in a way that cannot be put into words. you feel your love for him multiplying, swelling in your chest and bringing a smile to your face. billows of wind flew past the both of you, mitigation floated in the solace atmosphere, he looked into your eyes, and you know he meant it - his love is infinite, just like the ocean before you.

aether's face is hung low, crimson inches on his forehead. seems like those three words were still processing through his ears. his mellifluous gems meets yours, yet his expression was unchanged; he was still struggling to comprehend what had been said. his eyes became glassy and his mouth slightly agape. he was trying to find the right words, but nothing came out. he knew he couldn't bear to hear the answer and had to look away. "y-y/n, maybe not infront of paimon." he mumbled inaudibly. "what? paimon doesn't understand!" the little girl exclaimed, but it looked like neither of you wanted to answer her. but don't take him wrong! he loved you more than anything, but with a literal child in front of you, how dare you ask him such questions >:(

al haitham looks unimpressed, bored. almost like he didn't hear you. but truth is, his inner self is running abrack. totally out of control. his eyes were fixated on the pages of his book, eyebrows knitted together. but his mind was aware of those three oh-so-sweet words that came out of your pretty mouth. he was trying his hardest to keep his composure, but he couldn't help but feel a spark of inducement at hearing those three nubile words, his heart hastened, and the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to fight back a smile, but the exultation was too much for him to bear. "was it by coincidence that those three words you just uttered had repeated in this book?" he questioned, a sly smirk was threating to show through the covers of his lips. "what three words?" you came back, turmoiled expressions were drawn onto your face. the viridescent-eyed male, at last let a sly grin to curve up on his face before muttering,"i love you."

xiao almost immediately turned his head towards you, his primitive eyes augmented. his pallid cheeks were masked with a merlot contrast, his lips were sundered. his appearance was almost amusing— to you at least. your soft giggles and chuckles filled the air, his eyebrows creased together as he cleared his throat, "you mortals find this despicable sentence funny?" he blurted out of embarrassment. his hindrance was palpable, as he quickly added, "i suppose you mortals have a pitiable sense of humour." his arms folded together as they were placed in front of his chest. "well, in that case..." he continued, his expression hardening, "let's see how funny you find this." before ramming his gelid lips against yours. checkmate.

ajax finds your statement cute, of course he would want his darling to feel the same way with him. he takes your hand in his stark larger ones, brushing your back before whispering into your ear, "why i feel the same way, darling." his airy breath washed over you like a calm breeze. a pompous smile spread over his face before he parted from you, gently chuckling at your sanguine mess. "i think you're too adorable for your own good. i can't help but want to keep you close," he teases as he pulls you closer to him. his eyes twinkle with amusement as he leans in to whisper softly, "you make me feel so alive."

scaramouche elevates an eyebrow as he blankly stares at you with a stoic expression. obviously, he is not amused. a deep sigh comes from him, letting you know he has no more tolerance for your antics. "is this a joke?" he questions, his voice dripping with sarcasm. a couple of blinks at him were enough to convince him that this wasn't a joke. "love, huh?" he says, his lips quirking up into a smirk. he glances at you, his eyes brightened with amusement. "well, I guess i should have seen this coming." he teases, "you're really going for it, aren't you? i guess i should be used to your wild ideas by now." he uttered before adding "don't worry idiot, i love you too." his sentences almost immediately send metarule hues to your cheeks, earning multiple chuckles from him. he won, better luck next time!

cyno was quite amused with your sudden declaration of love, for him of course. he conceals his eyes before letting out a soft sigh. he wasn't all red and blushy. instead, he was entertained, almost as if he had been expecting it. his lips quirked up into a small smile, his delectation was clear to see. "I guess this means we're getting married now, right?". yea, that earned him one slap.

[tsumuus]

sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you

The weight of your feelings for Shoto Todoroki had always been a silent burden, one you carried with careful deliberation. You’d known him for years, watched him grow from the reserved, conflicted teen in UA into the poised and powerful Pro Hero he was today. Through it all, your friendship remained constant, a steady foundation you both relied on, even when the world around you was chaotic.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. Your heart started to race when he was near, your thoughts lingered on his gentle, thoughtful words, and the space between you felt charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure when admiration turned into affection or when that affection grew into something deeper, but you were sure of one thing- you had fallen for Shoto Todoroki.

And it was terrifying.

The feelings you harbored were a fragile thing, a delicate balance of hope and fear. You didn’t want to lose what you had with him, the bond you’d nurtured for so long. But the more time you spent with him, the more your heart ached with the need to tell him, to lay it all bare and hope against hope that he might feel the same.

But Shoto Todoroki wasn’t known for catching people. He wasn’t known for diving into emotions or revealing the deep inner workings of his heart. He was quiet, reserved, and careful with his affections. And you were afraid that if you confessed, you’d be left in that silence, caught in the cold of his uncertainty if he didn’t feel the same.

It was late one evening when you found yourself sitting beside him on the rooftop of his agency, the city lights glittering below like a sea of stars. Shoto had always liked it up here, the quiet that contrasted with the chaos of his daily life. It was one of the rare moments when you saw him at ease, his usual composed expression softened into something more contemplative.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His voice was calm, but there was a subtle concern in it that only someone who knew him well would notice.

You forced a smile, trying to push away the thoughts that had been plaguing you all night. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, turning his gaze fully on you, the intensity of his mismatched eyes making it even harder to breathe.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. The words were on the tip of your tongue, desperate to escape, but they clung there, weighed down by the fear of what could come next.

“I… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you began, your voice shaky despite your efforts to keep it steady. You could feel his eyes on you, his focus unwavering, and it made the confession that much harder. “It’s just… I’ve been feeling this way for a while, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore.”

Shoto’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes- surprise, maybe, or concern. “What are you trying to say?”

You swallowed hard, the words finally spilling out in a rush before you could stop yourself. “I like you, Shoto. More than just a friend. I’ve liked you for a long time now, and I just… I needed to tell you.”

Silence. The air between you seemed to freeze, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else. Shoto’s expression remained calm, almost too calm, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the right response.

“yn, I…”

Your heart sank at the hesitation in his voice, at the way he seemed to struggle with his words. Shoto wasn’t one to speak his emotions easily, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to find the right words, the right way to let you down gently.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of his uncertainty. “I care about you, yn. You’re important to me, more than you know. But… I’m not sure if I can return those feelings. Not in the way you deserve.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You had known, deep down, that this was a possibility, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. It didn’t stop the ache that spread through you, the hollow feeling of rejection that gnawed at your heart.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though it was anything but. “I understand.”

Shoto’s eyes softened, and there was a deep sadness in them, a regret that he couldn’t express more clearly. He reached out, his hand hovering just above yours before he pulled back, as if unsure whether he had the right to cross that line.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with a sorrow that made your chest tighten. “You mean a lot to me, yn. But I’m still trying to figure things out. I don’t want to rush into something and end up hurting you more in the end.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I appreciate that, Shoto. I do. I just… I just needed to tell you.”

Shoto’s gaze remained on you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn’t fully decipher. “Please don’t distance yourself,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

You offered him a small, sad smile, trying to push away the tears that threatened to fall. “I’m not going anywhere, Shoto. I promise.”

But as you sat there beside him, the space between you feeling wider than ever, you couldn’t help but wonder if that promise was one you could keep. Because while you were willing to wait, to be patient, you weren’t sure how long you could bear the weight of unrequited feelings, how long you could keep pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.

Sometimes, the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you. And as much as it hurt, you knew that Shoto Todoroki wasn’t ready to catch you. Not yet.

masterlist

a/n i have to wake up in less than 5 hours bc i have senior sunrise, and instead of going to sleep as soon as i finished my hw i sat down and wrote this🤗 yw ig<3333 or not bc this is angsty lol i will make up for it soon

[timberwind]

Diamantane Hills, Snohualmy (Rainier II)

Snohualmy is a terrestrial moon roughly the size of Mars, a Lowell-Birch type terraform, a world dominated by glassy soletta-carved handramit valleys and cold, dry haranda highlands(1). It was once a planet in its own right, billions of years before the first transhuman explorers walked its deserts. In its brief heyday, the megayears before the final migration of the system's gas giants to their wide present-day orbits threw the Tiandonias system's closely packed orrery of inner planets into disarray, it may even have hosted a deep global ocean(2). Snohualmy was spared the fate of many of its sister worlds - ejection from the system and a subsequent trillion-year circuit race across the disk of the Milky Way - by a chance encounter with the waterworld Rainier. That fateful close flyby bent the little world's trajectory just enough to capture it into an wide retrograde(3) orbit of the significantly more massive waterworld, in a manner not entirely dissimilar to the slingshot maneuvers that Dawn Age spacecraft used to gain and shed orbital velocity in their journeys across Old Earth's solar system. Many larger worlds have captured moons like this: famous examples from the Early Interstellar period are Triton, icy moon of Neptune (Solar System), and Arash, terrestrial moon of Eff (Tau Ceti).

Pictured is the city of Diamantane Hills, a huddle of hab complexes and marshaling yards sitting on the dry valley floor at the head of the Samarkand Vallis - a great outflow channel system carved in the distant past by one of the catastrophic floods that marked Snohualmy's equivalent of old Mars' Hesperian era. Although a little stunted compared to the bustling cities of the coasts and handramits, it forms an important hub for the maintenance of mining and terraforming automation atop the Tanaka Plateau, as well as the last stop on the western limb of the Trans-Snohualmy Trunkline road-rail-pipeline link before final ascent to the loading docks of the Tanaka Launch Loop.

(1) It's not entirely desert, mind: there's also one major sea roughly at the sub-Rainier point - the somewhat unimaginatively named Nearside Sea - which covers approximately 12% of the surface area of the moon. The anti-Rainier hemisphere's five major lakes account for a further 1%.

(2) Now mostly lost to processes driven by the brief post-capture period of extremely violent tidal heating as Snohualmy's newly planet-centric looping eccentric orbit rung down to a near-perfect circle, as well as subsequent attrition from escape and sequestration processes over the last 3 Gyr.

(3) Snohualmy orbits Rainier counterclockwise relative to the direction of spin of its parent planet. This is a fairly surefire indicator for a moon being captured in and of itself - moons that form in-situ tend to have formed from a common disk of material that spins in the same direction as the final planet does.

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplaying Races 14: Trox

(art by Nicholas “Rookzer0” on Artstation)

And here we have another example of an ancestry originally created as an example in ARG’s race builder, this one demonstrating how strange and powerful you could make a playable race. The result was powerful and bulky beetle-folk with a chip on their shoulder.

While there doesn’t seem to be any one specific inspiration for this ancestry, fantasy has always been full of big, monstrous peoples who may or may not actually be surprisingly gentle despite their bulk and fearsomeness.

Interestingly, trox got a major update to their lore in Starfinder, which we’ll talk about momentarily.

As we learn in Starfinder, the trox as a people were created by the goddess Hylax as her envoys and sentinels, and are in fact native to the Liavaran moon of Nchak. However, while the majority of their people lived in relative peace, that group is not who we are talking about today.

You see, many trox were sealed inside protective asteroids by their goddess and launched to various other worlds to serve as envoys for her diplomatic ways, and one such stone fell to Golarion in the ancient past. However, the Golarion clan had the misfortune of being discovered by the duergar , who saw their physical might and similarity to the giant beetles they already used as beasts of burden and enslaved them, subjecting them to eugenic breeding programs and alchemical enhancement to turn them into powerful brutes.

Many trox have since rebelled and broken free, escaping to the surface, only to discover that the evils of slavery were present there as well. As such, while they retain some aspects of their heritage, the trox of Golarion are distrustful of other species due to the suffering their people have gone through.

Sporting heavy chitin elytra, mandibles, and armor, trox resemble humanoid beetles, but they are not fully arthropod-like in anatomy, sporting an internal skeleton as well and soft fleshy parts as well. Additionally, they also sport an array of smaller appendages on their chests in addition to their bipedal arms and legs. While not strong and articulate enough to wield objects, they can come in handy.

While the trox of Golarion have become brutish and somewhat violent, they share with their ancestors a strong sense of community that overrides personal desires, they also prove inquisitive, eager to learn about the ways of others, and fiercely loyal to those the call friends. Sadly, the vast majority of them still live in slavery, either to the duergar or to surface slavers of various peoples.

Trox are immensely strong, but centuries of conditioning have dulled their minds in all regards.

Despite their bulk, they prove surprisingly agile when they need to be.

Their night-eyes also suit them well for a life underground.

This in turn is fueled by their powerful digging claws, making them swift under the ground.

The conditioning that they were subjected to and the subsequent fury this engenders also makes them surprisingly violent when replying to the attacks of foes that have harmed them.

Additionally, their grabbing appendages are quite useful for latching onto a grappled foe, freeing up their arms to fight other foes.

There is one alternate option for the trox, representing those trox that have trained themselves to abandon their rage and focus, tapping into an atrophied vibration sense, all the better to notice when invisible foes like their duergar slavers are coming.

With their extremely high strength bonus, trox are very suited for melee builds, particularly grapple builds thanks to their extra appendages, making any combat class a good pick for them. The penalty to all three mental stats is something of a deterrent for any caster or skill-based class, but not an insurmountable one. In fact, the fact that their penalty applies to all three means that it’s almost like the board is even between the three, just expect to have to make a little effort to bring them in line with other casters and characters. Any class that can blend casting with more traditional combat will probably work best for them, such as druid, magus, paladin, and warpriest.

That does it for today, but we’ve got one more entry to do before we’re done. Look forward to it tomorrow!

[pennyblossom-meta]

A short study on the origins of Gale Dekarios

Going through some game information and Forgotten Realms lore, I found some interesting tidbits about the possible origins of Gale and the Dekarios clan. So, what do we know?

After finding Tara in Act 3, there's a dialogue tree (as of yet still bugged 08/12/2023) where Gale tells us that his surname comes from his mother, Morena Dekarios.

Gale: (...) Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it, sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios.

There isn't much to go on from this. Other than a brief mention that Gale's parents denied him a kitten, we don't know where his father is or what happened to him. Indeed, the surname Dekarios could be inherited from Gale's mother or even his father's side — and for the latter we can assume Morena took on the surname sometime after marrying Gale's father, thus becoming her son's main reference for the rest of the clan upon her husband's absence/death.

That being said, I can't find anything about the Dekarios surname within DnD lore. What we do know, is that Gale's clan is scattered far and wide, perhaps even beyond the Sword Coast.

We also know that Gale is of full human heritage, at least from his closest ancestry.

Now, let's dig in a little deeper.

There are several human ethnicities throughout Faerûn.

As of DnD 3.5, there are seven major ethnic groups widely recognised: the Calishites, Chondathans, Damarans, Iluskans, Mulan, Rashemis, and Tethyrians.

However, as of DnD 5E, the Player's Handbook adds that there are actually nine major ethnic groups in Faerûn, including the Shou from Kara-Tur and the Turami who are native to the southern shore of the Inner Sea. In 3.5E, these groups just receive a brief mention, while in 5E there's more of an attempt on expanding their lore.

Note: If you're interested in knowing more about the different ethnic groups in Faerûn, I would suggest reading the Forgotten Realms: Races of Faerûn (2003), the 3.5 Player's Guide to Faerûn, the 5E Player's Handbook and the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide.

Here's a useful map of Faerûn from 3.5E.

It's actually the 3.5 Player's Guide to Faerûn and Forgotten Realms: Races of Faerûn that gives us more in depth information about which communities have a major presence in different areas of the Sword Coast.

For example, while Gale and his mother live in Waterdeep, we don't know whether they moved to the city when Gale was a child or, perhaps, his parents always lived there. Perhaps generations of Dekarios lived in Waterdeep — including Gale's aunt Agnes.

Without further information, it's possible that the Dekarios clan even has their ancestral roots beyond the Sword Coast. Who knows?

According to 3.5E, the recommended human subraces in The Sword Coast are the Illuskan and Tethyrian.

In Waterdeep, it's the Chondathan, the Illuskan and Tethyrian.

Given what we know of Gale, lorewise, what would be the most accurate ethnicity for the Dekarios clan? Let's see what the handbooks say about the three major groups in Waterdeep.

--

The Chondathan

Races of Faerûn (2003): (...) Although Chondathans make skilled mercenaries and cunning rogues, Chondathan culture, has not encouraged study of the Art or great religious fervor. Notable exceptions exist, particularly in the study of the Art among the Netherese influenced Chondathan cultures that lie north and west of the Inner Sea.

(...) Those Chondathans who dwell north and west of the Sea of Fallen Stars (except in Sembia) are more likely to have blue eyes and have fairer complexions and darker hair than those born in the South, evidence of a Netherese heritage. In Chondath itself, particularly in the lands bordering Sespech, a significant Shaaran influx in recent centuries has given many natives of Chondath more of an olive skinned hue.

(...) Chondathan Society (...) As Chondathans place a high value on book learning, many receive some amount of schooling while growing up.

(...) Animals and Pets (...) Chondathans favor small felines as pets and hunting companions (...). Tressyms are highly favored by those who can afford them, as are lynxes.

3.5E: Descended from the natives of the Vilhon Reach, these hardy folk have spread to settle most of the western and central Inner Sea region and much of the Western Heartlands. Chondathans form the primary racial stock of Altumbel, Córmyr, the southern Dalelands, the Dragon Coast, the Great Dale, Hlondeth and both shores of the Vilhon Reach, the Pirate Isles of the Inner Sea, Sembia, and Sespech. They are slender, tawny-skinned folk with brown hair that ranges from almost blond to almost black. Most are tall and have green or brown eyes, but these traits are hardly universal.

The Chondathan domination of central Faerún came about largely by virtue of extensive trade and settlement rather than by force of arms. Many Chondathans are merchants of one sort or another, and they are not afraid to take risks, travel, or settle new lands.

5E: Chondathans are slender, tawny-skinned folk with brown hair that ranges from almost blond to almost black. Most are tall and have green or brown eyes, but these traits are hardly universal. Humans of Chondathan descent dominate the central lands of Faerun. around the Inner Sea.

Chondathan Names: (Male) Darvin, Dorn, Evendur, Gorstag, Grim, Helm, Malark, Morn, Randal, Stedd; (female) Arveene, Esvele, Jhessail, Kerri, Lureene, Miri, Rowan, Shandri, Tessele; (surnames) Amblecrown, Buckman, Dundragon, Evenwood, Greycastle, Tallstag

--

The Illuskans

Races of Faerûn (2003): (...) Wizards are rare in Illuskan society. They are widely feared and assumed to be in some way affiliated with the Arcane Brotherhood. Of those who do study wizardry, perhaps the most common specialization is the school of Evocation. Sorcerers and bards are more common among Illuskans, as many Illuskans have a trace of draconic ancestry in their heritage.

(...) Illuskans are not inclined to keep animals as pets, companions, or familiars, as relatively few species are native to Ruathym or nearby islands. Goats, sheep, and geese do better in the cold Illuskan lands than do cattle, swine, or chickens.

3.5E: : The seagoing, warlike people of the Sword Coast, North, the Trackless Sea, and the Desarin river valley, Illuskans are tall, fair-skinned folk with blue or steely gray eyes. Among the islands of the Trackless Sea and Icewind Dale, their hair color tends toward blond, red, or light brown. On the mainland south of the Spine of the World, however, raven-black hair is most common. Iluskans are proud, particularly of their ability to survive in the harsh environment of their northern homelands, and they regard most southerners as weak and decadent. Illuskans make their livings as farmers, fishers, miners, sailors, raiders, skalds, and runecasters.

5E: Illuskans are tall, fair-skinned folk with blue or steely gray eyes. Most have raven-black hair, but those who inhabit the extreme northwest have blond, red, or light brown hair.

Illuskan Names: (Male) Ander, Blath, Bran, Frath, Geth, Lander, Luth, Malcer, Stor, Taman, Urth; (female) Amafrey, Betha, Cefrey, Kethra, Mara, Olga, Silifrey, Westra; (surnames) Brightwood, Helder, Hornraven, Lackman, Stormwind, Windrivver

--

The Tethyrian

Races of Faerûn (2003): (...) In recent centuries, these disparate groups have gradually coalesced into a relatively new ethnic group known as Tethyrians, occupying a vast territory stretching from Calimshan to Silverymoon and from the Sea of Swords to the Sea of Fallen Stars. After centuries of enslavement and oppression by one group or another, Tethyrians are fiercely independent, protective of their freedoms and suspicious of threats posed by powerful kingdoms and empires. Given their disparate ancestry, Tethyrians have never developed a unique language of their own, instead adopting the language of the latest wave of conquerors or refugees. Today most Tethyrians speak Chondathan.

(...) Outside Calimshan, many Tethyrians are craftsmen or caravanners, while others find employment as mercenaries in the employ of other realms. Tethyrians make skilled fighters and rogues, reflecting the struggle to survive successive waves of conquest and generations of warfare. Tethyrian culture has a long tradition of bardcraft, reflecting the absence of a Tethyrian empire at any point ni history and the corresponding reliance on itinerant bards to preserve and spread Tethyrian oral history.

(...) Tethyrians view life as a struggle to be survived through ties to Family, clan, and tribe. To a Tethyrian, freedom is the most precious gift, and the enslavement of another is the greatest sin.

(...) The paths of the loremaster and archmage are both attractive to Tethyrian wizards.

(...) Aside from bards, Tethyrians have not traditionally had access to book learning, although those who do are much esteemed by their peers.

(...) Familial, clan and tribal bonds require that adults look out for one another, so the elderly and those who cannot earn their keep turn to relatives and friends for support.

(...) Tethyrians have strong arcane and divine spellcasting traditions: Bardcraft is revered, and many master bards are of Tethyrian stock. The varied mature of Tethyrian heritage has produced many sorcerers as well. Likewise, the strong influence of Calishite and Netherese cultural traditions has echoes in the large numbers of Tethyrian wizards, although most learn their craft through a traditional master-apprentice relationship, not by attending a formal school.

(...) Animals and Pets (...) Tethyrians are partial to canines, particularly those bred for herding, hunting, or working. Falcons (treat as hawks) and swamp ferrets (treat as weasels) are commonly employed in hunting and often serve as familiars. Ravens are also favored as pets or familiars, particularly in the vicinity of the High Moor.

3.5E: The Tethyrian culture is a melting pot of Calishite, Chondathan, Illuskan, and Low Netherese elements. This unique background makes Tethyrians among the most tolerant, though fiercely independent, ethnic groups in Faerûn. They inhabit a vast territory stretching from Calimshan to Silverymoon, and from the Sea of Swords to the Sea of Fallen Stars. Tethyrians are of medium build and height, with dusky skin that grows fairer the farther north they dwell. Their hair and eye color varies widely, but brown hair and blue eves are the most common. Tethyrians are proud of their diverse heritage and protective of their freedom, so they tend to distrust powerful kingdoms and empires.

5E: Widespread along the entire Sword Coast at the western edge of Faerun, Tethyrians are of medium build and height, with dusky skin that tends to grow fairer the farther north they dwell. Their hair and eye color varies widely, but brown hair and blue eyes are the most common. Tethyrians primarily use Chondathan names.

--

Verdict

After analysing these descriptions, I would say that it makes sense that Gale Dekarios can be of either a Chondathan or Tethyrian heritage — though I'd venture a guess that there's a fair mix of both.

Given that the Dekarios clan is "scattered far and wide", it could imply that they're of a mercantile affinity (Chondathan) and thus have settled in various cities along the the Sword Coast and beyond for trade purposes. Further migration patterns veering west, towards the Sword Coast, and an affinity for magic that can be related to Netherese ancestry (Chondathan and Tethyrian) are valid backgrounds for what we know of Gale.

Some things to consider:

The Tethyrians have more of a natural arcane leaning than the Chondathans (Gale was casting accidental fireballs at the age of 8, among other funny accidents).

The Tethyrians form strong familial and clan bonds (Gale has strong ties to his mother, is very family oriented).

Gale has more of an olive skinned hue, brown eyes and hair, as the combo is more common with the Chondathans ethnicity in contemporary Faerûn. It speaks of a Mediterranean background, if we were to compare it with Earth.

The Chondathans also have an affinity with felines, while the Tethyrian veer towards employing animals for hunting and favor birds of prey as familiars.

The Chondathans place a high value on book learning.

Both ethnicities have ties to the Netherese, which creates a compelling narrative device — especially after Gale's fallout with Mystra due to the Netherese orb incident. However, opportune irony aside, I think that what we see of Gale points to a mix of both heritages and that they reflect different sides of him that go beyond ethnicity, as they also affect his background from a socio-economical standpoint.

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part five

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: violence, swearing, angst

author's note: YOU'LL NEVER GET AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THE WOMAN THAT LOVES YOU

Rafe's thoughts raced like a whirlwind, his mind a tumultuous sea of uncertainty and fear. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him like a heavy cloak, weighing him down with its suffocating presence.

As he paced the living room of Tannyhill, his footsteps echoing off the walls, Rafe's thoughts consumed him. The news of Sarah's return had rocked him to his core, sending shockwaves of panic and apprehension coursing through his veins.

But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one question burned brighter than the rest: If Sarah was back, did that mean you were too?

The mere thought of seeing you again sent a shiver down Rafe's spine, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within him. On one hand, there was a part of him that longed to see you, to be near you once more. But on the other hand, there was a deep-seated fear that seeing you again would only reopen old wounds and dredge up painful memories he had long tried to bury.

Lost in his own mind, Rafe found himself biting at his fingernails, a nervous habit that betrayed the inner turmoil raging within him. He knew he needed to make a decision, to confront the reality of Sarah's return head-on. But as he grappled with the weight of uncertainty bearing down on him, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for him, and whether he was truly prepared to face it.

As the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat, Rafe felt a momentary sense of relief wash over him, numbing the edges of his anxiety and uncertainty. The familiar sting of whiskey offered a temporary reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him.

But as the alcohol spread warmth through his veins, Rafe couldn't shake the nagging feeling of unease that lingered just beneath the surface. The thought of you possibly being back on the island after two long years sent a shiver down his spine, stirring up a potent mix of longing and apprehension within him.

For so long, he had tried to push you out of his mind, to bury the memories of your time together deep within the recesses of his soul. But now, faced with the possibility of seeing you again, all those buried emotions threatened to rise to the surface once more, threatening to engulf him in a tidal wave of longing and regret. With a heavy sigh, Rafe set the bottle of whiskey back down on the coffee table, the liquid inside now significantly lower than before. He knew he couldn't drown out his nerves forever, couldn't outrun the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead.

With a sense of determination coursing through him, Rafe retrieved his phone from the coffee table and scrolled through his contacts until he found Barry's number. With a steady hand, he pressed the call button, the sound of the ringing tone echoing through the room.

After a few rings, Barry's voice crackled through the phone's speaker. "Countrt club, what's up?" he greeted, his tone laced with curiosity.

"Barry, it's Rafe," Rafe replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "I need to talk to you. Can I come over? I'll be there in the next 20 minutes."

Barry's response was immediate. "Yeah, sure, man. Everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. But he quickly pushed aside his doubts and replied, "Yeah, everything's fine. I just need to talk. See you soon." With that, Rafe ended the call and pocketed his phone, his mind already racing with the myriad of thoughts and emotions that awaited him at Barry's trailer.

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"You sure she's really back? She could just be messing with y'all."

"I don't know, Barry," Rafe replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It just feels different this time. Sarah wouldn't come back for no reason."

Barry let out a dismissive snort, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Ah, come on, Rafe, you know how she is. Always stirring up trouble just for the fun of it," he remarked, his tone casual despite the gravity of the situation.

"I don't think she's just messing around, Barry," Rafe insisted, his voice firm as he locked eyes with his friend. "There's something going on, and I need to find out what it is."

"I'm going to find out what Sarah's up to," he declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "I need to know why she's back and what she's after. And if it means going back to the Cut to find out, then so be it."

Barry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what about Y/N?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. "You think she's back too?"

Rafe's jaw clenched at the mention of your name, a surge of emotion welling up inside him. He knew that seeing you again would reopen old wounds and dredge up painful memories, but he couldn't deny the pull you still had on him, even after all this time. Your name hung in the air like a weight, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within Rafe's chest. He couldn't help but remember the way your laughter had once filled the room, the warmth of your touch, the way your eyes had sparkled with joy whenever you looked at him. But along with those memories came a tidal wave of pain and regret. The memory of the morning you left, the words exchanged in hurt and frustration, haunted him like a ghost. He couldn't shake the feeling of loss that gnawed at his heart, the gaping void left in the wake of your departure.

But the reminder hit Rafe like a cold wave crashing over him, jolting him back to reality with brutal force. You were a Pogue, and he was a Kook. No matter how deeply he felt for you, no matter the memories they shared, the stark division between their worlds remained. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the reminder of the gaping chasm that separated them, not just in status but in perception and expectation. The societal barriers that dictated their paths seemed insurmountable at times, casting a shadow over any hope of reconciliation.

Rafe clenched his fists at his sides, a surge of frustration coursing through him. It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly. Why did your backgrounds have to dictate your guys' fate? Why couldn't you be free to love who you chose, regardless of the expectations placed upon you?

But deep down, Rafe knew the answer. The world you two lived in was rigid and unforgiving, its boundaries enforced with an iron grip. And try as he might to defy them, to bridge the gap between their worlds, the reality of their situation remained unchanged.

Rafe shook his head, an unhumored, bitter laugh escaping his lips as he replied to Barry, "Knowing her, she probably is. Once a Pogue, always a Pogue, right? Where one is, another is lingering."

Barry's smirk widened into a mischievous grin as he leaned forward, fixing Rafe with an intense gaze. Sensing Rafe's bitterness, he couldn't resist prodding him further.

"Why don't you go find out for yourself?" Barry suggested, his tone teasing but edged with a hint of challenge. He knew Rafe well enough to recognize that beneath the bitterness lay a curiosity, a desire to confront the past and whatever it might bring.

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met Barry's gaze. The suggestion hung in the air between them, a silent dare to take action. Despite the uncertainty and trepidation swirling within him, Rafe couldn't deny the flicker of curiosity that sparked to life at Barry's words.

With a resigned sigh, Rafe nodded slowly, a determined glint in his eyes. He knew that Barry was right. It was time to stop dwelling on the past and start taking control of his own destiny. And if that meant facing you again, then so be it.

"Maybe I will," Rafe replied, his voice firm despite the lingering doubt in his heart. As he stood up from his seat, a sense of resolve settled over him. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on.

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"This feels so weird," Kiara remarked, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she glanced around the dock, her arms folded across her chest.

You glanced over at Kiara, noticing the unease etched across her features, and stepped closer to her side. "I know that feeling," you said softly, your gaze drifting towards the familiar sight of the chateau ahead. "But we were doing this for John B."

Kiara nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting a solemn determination. "For John B," she said firmly, her voice carrying a sense of purpose. "We'd do whatever it took to make things right for him." You shared a solemn nod with her, understanding the gravity of the situation. With John B's well-being at the forefront of your minds, you both steeled yourselves for the task ahead.

Turning to Sarah, you noticed the subdued demeanor that seemed to envelop her throughout the trip. Concern etched your features as you addressed her softly, "Sarah, are you okay?"

Sarah's gaze flickered up to meet yours, her expression guarded but tinged with vulnerability. She hesitated for a moment before offering a small nod. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. However, you could sense that something was amiss beneath the surface. Sarah's usual bubbly demeanor seemed to have been replaced by a quiet introspection, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for your friend.

You gave her a sympathetic look, understanding the weight of her struggles with family dynamics and the challenges of being back in your hometown. Leaning in slightly, you spoke to her in a quiet, reassuring tone. "I understand how tough it must be for you, especially with everything going on with your family and being back here," you said softly.

Sarah's guard seemed to soften at your words, and she offered you a faint smile of appreciation. "Yeah, it's been a lot to deal with," she admitted quietly, her voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability.

But Sarah paused and looked at you, a serious expression casting a shadow over her features as she leaned in slightly. "But are you okay?" she repeated, her voice laced with genuine concern.

You blinked, taken aback by her sudden inquiry. It was rare for Sarah to divert the conversation onto you, and her serious demeanor caught you off guard. Fumbling for a response, you met her gaze, trying to decipher the underlying meaning behind her question.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of confusion. The concern in Sarah's eyes prompted you to consider your own well-being, a realization dawning on you that perhaps you hadn't been as forthcoming about your own struggles amidst the chaos of the past few days.

"You know what I mean." Her words hit you like a sudden gust of wind, leaving you momentarily speechless. The mention of Rafe lingered heavily in the air, a reminder of the unresolved emotions that still tugged at your heartstrings. Despite your attempts to bury them beneath the surface, Sarah's astute observation cut through the facade you had carefully constructed.

A heavy silence settled between you as you grappled with the weight of her implication. You knew exactly what she meant, and the mention of Rafe brought a flood of emotions rushing to the surface. Memories of your tumultuous past with him resurfaced, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting feelings that you had long tried to suppress.

Taking a deep breath, you met Sarah's gaze, the unspoken understanding between you palpable in the air. There was no need for further explanation; she knew the turmoil that churned within you, the unresolved questions that lingered in the depths of your mind.

You offered Sarah a faint smile, attempting to downplay the significance of her concern. "I'm fine, really," you reassured her, your voice carrying a forced lightness. "There's nothing to worry about."

Despite your attempt to deflect the conversation away from your own struggles, Sarah's penetrating gaze remained fixed on you. It was clear that she saw through your facade, her concern unwavering despite your attempts to brush it off.

"Are you sure?" she pressed gently, her voice soft but insistent. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You nodded, grateful for her offer of support but unwilling to delve deeper into the complexities of your emotions. "I know, Sarah," you replied, offering her a small but genuine smile. "And I appreciate it. But right now, let's focus on John B and what we need to do to help him."

Sarah regarded you with a lingering gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. Though she respected your desire to keep your feelings guarded, her unwavering support served as a comforting reminder that you weren't alone in your struggles.

As soon as John B and JJ finished docking the boat, you couldn't contain your excitement any longer. With a wide grin, you hopped off the boat and sprinted towards JJ, the rush of adrenaline propelling you forward. Without a second thought, you jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and your legs around his waist.

"JJ!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your joy at being back at the chateau.

JJ's laughter echoed through the air as he caught you effortlessly, his strong arms enveloping you in a tight embrace. "Hey there, beautiful," he said with a grin, his voice filled with affection.

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of the ocean mingled with his cologne. "I can't believe we're back," you said, your voice filled with excitement and disbelief.

JJ held you close, his heart swelling with happiness at having you back in his arms. "Feels like old times, doesn't it?" he remarked, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

You nodded, a wide smile spreading across your face as you looked up at him. "Yeah, but this time feels different," you admitted, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you.

JJ's gaze softened as he met your eyes, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "Different, but in a good way," he reassured you, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

"Woah, looks like you two are happy to be here," Pope's voice pulled you out of your moment with JJ, and you turned to see him approaching, carrying some luggage on his back. His observation made you chuckle, and you exchanged a knowing look with JJ before responding.

"Yeah, can't you tell?" you replied with a grin, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pope shrugged, shaking his head slightly as he made his observation. "Seems like there's more than just excitement radiating from you two," he remarked, his tone lighthearted but curious.

Your cheeks grew warm as Pope's observation hit home, and you shot a glance at JJ, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Unsure of how to respond, you found yourself at a loss for words.

JJ chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. "Guess we're not hiding it too well, huh?" he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could reply, John B appeared behind Pope, joining in on the teasing. "Looks like you two are getting even closer these days," he remarked with a smirk, nudging Pope playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. "Uh, yeah, just happy to be back with the crew," you said, trying to play it cool despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

JJ nodded in agreement, shooting you a reassuring smile. "Exactly," he echoed, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to the group.

Pope's eyes narrowed slightly as he exchanged a knowing glance with John B, the smirk on his face growing more pronounced. "Alright, man, whatever you say," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of playful skepticism. With a shake of his head, he hoisted the luggage onto his shoulder and continued ahead, leaving you and JJ to share a sheepish smile before following after him.

JJ glanced around, taking in the familiar surroundings of the Cut. "Man, this place looks just like it did when we left," he remarked, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled at the remark, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, still looks like a junkyard," you joked back, the playful banter lightening the mood as you made your way towards the chateau.

The Pogues made their way into the chateau, their footsteps echoing through the familiar halls as they entered. Despite the passage of time, the place felt just as welcoming as it had before. With an air of familiarity, they began to make themselves at home, setting their luggage down in various rooms and taking in the familiar surroundings.

John B headed towards the kitchen, his eyes scanning the countertops and cabinets as he searched for any signs of activity since their last visit. Meanwhile, Kiara and Pope wandered off to explore the living room, their voices mingling with laughter as they reminisced about past adventures.

You and JJ made your way to your room, the anticipation of being back in the chateau palpable between you. The door creaked open, revealing the familiar space you had shared countless memories in.

As you stepped inside, a sense of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the excitement of being back. You couldn't help but smile as you took in the sight of the room, every corner holding a piece of your shared history.

JJ followed close behind, his eyes scanning the room with a fondness that mirrored your own. There was a sense of comfort in being back in this space, a feeling of home that you couldn't find anywhere else.

You moved to the window, drawing back the curtains to let in the soft light of the setting sun. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the floor as you turned back to face JJ.

He was standing in the center of the room, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest gently on your waist as he pulled you close.

As JJ's arms wrapped around you, you felt a rush of warmth and familiarity wash over you. It was as though no time had passed since the last time you were in this room together, and you found yourself sinking into his embrace with a sense of contentment.

"Feels good to be back, doesn't it?" JJ murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded against his chest, feeling a sense of peace settle over you in his arms. "Yeah, it does," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, lost in your own thoughts and the comfort of each other's presence. The weight of the past two years seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being together in this familiar space.

But as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in the back of your mind. The return to the Outer Banks had brought with it a flood of memories and emotions, some of which you weren't sure how to confront.

As you and JJ settled into the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Being back in this space with him felt like coming home in a way you hadn't realized you'd missed. JJ moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him invitingly. You joined him, sinking into the soft mattress beside him, the warmth of his presence comforting.

"So," JJ began, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "What do you think about all of this?"

You glanced around the room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of the chateau. "It's surreal, to be honest," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "I never thought I'd be back here."

JJ nodded in understanding, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "Yeah, me neither," he said quietly. "But hey, we made it. And we're stronger now, right?"

You smiled at his words, feeling a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support he had always provided. "Definitely," you agreed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "And having you here with me makes it all a little less daunting."

JJ's smile widened at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sincerity in your voice. "Glad I could be of service," he joked, nudging you playfully with his shoulder.

You chuckled, leaning into his side as you felt a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you and JJ would face them together.

"Hey, JJ?" you quietly began, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you.

"Yeah?" JJ replied, turning to face you, his gaze soft and attentive.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking. "I just wanted to say thank you," you said earnestly, meeting his eyes with a sincerity that spoke volumes. "For everything. For being here, for always having my back, even when things get tough."

JJ's expression softened even further at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. "You don't have to thank me," he replied gently, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat at the depth of emotion in his eyes. "I do," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the evening breeze. "And I'm grateful for you, more than you know."

A smile tugged at the corners of JJ's lips as he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "Anytime, Y/N," he murmured against your hair, the sound of his voice soothing in the quiet of the room. As you rested against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always have JJ by your side, a constant source of strength and support in a world that often felt uncertain.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, the tranquility of the room was shattered by the sudden clamor emanating from the front of the chateau. It was as if the peaceful atmosphere had been pierced by a sudden storm, pulling both you and JJ from the cocoon of warmth you had created.

You exchanged a puzzled glance with JJ, the unspoken question hanging in the air as you listened intently to the rising noise. For a brief moment, the only sound was the rustle of the curtains and the distant hum of the waves outside, before it was drowned out by the voices from the front of the chateau.

With furrowed brows, you sat up, your senses on high alert as you tried to discern the source of the disturbance. JJ mirrored your concern, his gaze locked on the door as if he could see through it to the chaos beyond.

"Should we go check it out?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked to JJ for guidance.

JJ nodded, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He offered you a reassuring hand, and you took it gratefully, allowing him to help you up as you both prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

As you made your way towards the front of the chateau, the noise grew louder, a cacophony of voices mingling together in a chaotic symphony. With each step, your heart pounded in your chest, the sense of unease growing stronger with every passing moment.

You and JJ shared a silent exchange, a wordless acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Whatever was happening, you both knew it was bound to be significant, and you braced yourselves for whatever lay ahead as you ventured further into the fray.

As you trailed behind JJ hesitantly and slowly, he held up a finger to his lips, shushing you gently as he approached the side of the hallway wall that led to the living room. His movements were cautious, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger as he edged closer to the source of the commotion.

You mirrored his actions, your breath caught in your throat as you tried to suppress the rising sense of apprehension. The voices grew louder with each step, a jumble of sounds that made it difficult to discern what was being said.

Peering around the corner, you and JJ caught sight of the scene unfolding in the living room. The other Pogues were gathered there, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion as they stared at something you couldn't quite see from your vantage point.

JJ motioned for you to stay back, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly as he edged closer to the doorway. You obeyed, lingering in the hallway as you watched him disappear into the room, disappearing from view as he joined the others in their vigil.

Your heart raced in your chest as you waited, the tension in the air palpable as you strained to hear snippets of the conversation drifting out from the living room. Whatever was happening, it was clear that it was something significant, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a heavy blanket.

As the seconds ticked by, the tension in the air became palpable, each passing moment feeling heavier than the last. You could practically hear the collective racing of hearts, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable level.

Then, like a thunderclap breaking through the silence, Sarah's voice erupted in a piercing scream, echoing off the walls of the chateau with a raw intensity. The sound seemed to reverberate through the very core of the building, filling the space with an electric energy that sent shivers down your spine.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, time seemed to stand still as you strained to make out the words she was screaming. It was as if the entire world held its breath, suspended in a suspended state of anticipation.

As the standoff continued in the living room, your impatience got the best of you. The distant commotion outside the chateau only added to your sense of urgency, prompting you to barge into the room and demand answers from the other Pogues.

"Okay, what's going on?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with a mixture of concern and frustration as you scanned the room for any clues.

The Pogues turned to look at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and bewilderment at your sudden intrusion. John B opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could utter a word.

"Where's Sarah?" you demanded, your eyes narrowing as you realized that she was conspicuously absent from the group.

The tension in the room skyrocketed as the other Pogues exchanged uneasy glances, a palpable sense of unease settling over the room like a heavy fog. It was clear that something was amiss, and the feeling of dread that washed over you made your stomach churn with anxiety.

JJ's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his tone gentle but firm as he addressed you. "Hey, just… stay out of it for now," he urged, his eyes meeting yours with a silent plea for understanding. "Sarah's handling something, but we'll figure it out." His words were meant to reassure you, but the underlying tension in his voice betrayed his attempt to conceal the seriousness of the situation. Despite his efforts to keep you from worrying, the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, leaving you with a gnawing sense of unease that refused to be ignored.

But the reassurance did little to quell the rising tide of worry within you. You shook your head again, your eyes wide with fear. "I need to know," you insisted, your voice trembling. "Please, just tell me."

Kiara's sympathetic yet worried expression mirrored your own emotions, her voice carrying a sense of understanding as she spoke. "Listen to JJ, Y/N," she said gently, her eyes filled with concern. "Sarah knows what she's doing. We just have to trust her for now."

As the tension in the room thickened, you glanced around at the faces of your friends, their silence only adding to your frustration. Outside, the noises persisted, amplifying your worry with each passing moment. With a mixture of exasperation and determination, you scoffed and folded your arms across your chest, issuing a demand to the room. "Either someone tells me what's going on, or I'm going out there myself."

"Y/N, you're not going out there," JJ interjected firmly, his voice laced with concern as he stepped closer to you.

You frowned, telling him firmly, "You can't tell me what to do, JJ. So either say it, or I will."

JJ sighed, his expression reflecting the internal struggle he was facing. "It's not safe out there right now," he explained, his tone gentle but firm.

You were about to retort when a loud crash from outside the chateau interrupted the tense moment. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying your concern for Sarah's safety.

"See, something's happening!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with urgency.

JJ's jaw clenched, his eyes darting between you and the door. "Y/N, I can't let you go out there. It's not safe," he insisted, his tone firm yet laced with worry.

Your frustration peaked, the need to know what was happening outside overwhelming you. "So you're letting Sarah face whatever's out there alone?!" you shot back, your voice rising with each word.

"No, Y/N, it's dangerous for you," JJ replied, his expression pleading for you to understand.

You paused, feeling torn between your concern for Sarah and JJ's protective instinct. The adrenaline pumping through your veins urged you to act, but JJ's words anchored you to the spot, reminding you of the risks involved.

The commotion outside intensified, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on everyone in the room. You glanced around, meeting the worried gazes of your friends, each one silently pleading for you to stay put.

Despite JJ's attempts to dissuade you, your concern for Sarah outweighed any sense of caution. You couldn't bear the thought of her facing danger alone, especially when you could potentially help. Ignoring JJ's warning, you made up your mind to go outside and find out what was happening.

"Sorry, JJ," you muttered, determination etched on your face as you brushed past him towards the door. "I can't just sit here."

JJ's expression softened, a mix of admiration and worry crossing his features as he watched you go. "Y/N, wait—" he called after you, but you were already on a mission.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as you surveyed your surroundings. The commotion seemed to be coming from the direction of the dock, and without hesitation, you started making your way towards it, your heart pounding in your chest with each step. Your heart leaped into your throat as Sarah's shrieks pierced the night air, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Without hesitation, you sprinted towards the source of the noise, every fiber of your being focused on reaching her as quickly as possible.

Your steps faltered, the urgency in your stride giving way to a sense of unease as you neared the source of the commotion. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension, a palpable energy that set your nerves on edge.

As you rounded the corner and caught sight of Sarah, standing face to face with someone, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Your mind raced with possibilities, but none of them prepared you for the sight that greeted you.

There, standing before Sarah, was Rafe.

His presence was like a punch to the gut, sending shockwaves of disbelief through your body. You couldn't tear your gaze away from him, his figure casting a looming shadow over the scene before you. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you processed the sight before you. The air was thick with tension, and you felt as though you were walking into a storm, unsure of what awaited you on the other side.

Your breath caught in your throat as the gravity of the situation unfolded before your eyes. The sight of Rafe, waterboarding Sarah with a malicious glint in his eyes, sent a shiver down your spine. Anger and fear surged within you as you watched him mercilessly drag her in and out of the bucket of water, his grip tight around her throat.

"Rafe, get off of her!" You yelled instinctively to try and advert his attention away from Sarah, giving her room to get away.

The air seemed to crackle with tension as Rafe's gaze snapped towards you, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. For a moment, the world around you faded into the background as you locked eyes with him, a myriad of emotions swirling between you.

His grip on Sarah loosened slightly, his attention momentarily diverted by your unexpected presence. The horror etched on his face mirrored the turmoil within you, a stark reminder of the tangled web of emotions that still lingered between you.

"Rafe," you called out, your voice tinged with a mixture of concern and defiance. It was a desperate attempt to break through the darkness that had enveloped him, to remind him of the person he used to be before everything spiraled out of control.

But even as he turned to face you, the haunted look in his eyes spoke volumes. It was as if he were wrestling with his own demons, trapped in a battle he couldn't escape. For a fleeting moment, the weight of your shared history hung heavy in the air, the unspoken words echoing between you. But as the seconds ticked by, it became clear that this encounter would be anything but simple.

"Y/N, is that really you?" Rafe's voice was barely above a whisper, his tone laced with disbelief and a hint of desperation. It was as if he couldn't quite reconcile the sight of you standing there before him with the reality of the situation.

"What the fuck are you doing, Rafe?" Your words cut through the air like a knife, carrying with them a mix of accusation and disbelief. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, the sight of Sarah struggling against Rafe's grip searing itself into your memory.

Rafe's expression shifted, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face—shame, guilt, and a hint of defiance. "I..." he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. But before he could utter another syllable, Sarah's frantic cries pierced the air once more, a stark reminder of the danger she was in.

You took a step forward, your gaze never leaving Rafe's. "Let her go, Rafe," you demanded, your voice firm and unwavering. It was a command born out of necessity, fueled by the need to protect your friend from further harm.

For a moment, there was silence—a palpable tension that hung in the air like a heavy shroud. And then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Rafe released his grip on Sarah, allowing her to stumble backwards, gasping for breath.

As Sarah retreated to safety, you stood your ground, your eyes locked with Rafe's. There were no words that could adequately capture the tumult of emotions swirling within you—the anger, the fear, and the lingering traces of a love that had once burned bright.

But in that moment, all that mattered was ensuring the safety of your friend, even if it meant confronting the demons of your past head-on.

"I didn't think you'd actually come back," he repeated, his tone tinged with disbelief.

You took a moment to steady yourself, the weight of Rafe's gaze bearing down on you. Memories of your tumultuous past together flooded your mind—the moments of passion, the heated arguments, and the painful goodbyes that had brought you to this point.

"I came back for John B," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "He needed us, and I wasn't about to let him face this alone."

There was a flicker of something in Rafe's eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe a hint of longing—but before you could dwell on it, Sarah's voice broke through the silence, a stark reminder of the danger that still loomed over you all.

With resolve coursing through your veins, you moved closer to Sarah, keeping a wary eye on Rafe. His presence was an unwelcome complication in an already tense situation, but you pushed aside the torrent of emotions threatening to engulf you.

"Sarah, are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with concern as you reached out to steady her.

Sarah nodded weakly, her eyes wide with fear as she clung to your arm. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly.

You shot Rafe a pointed look, silently daring him to make a move. Despite the turmoil swirling within you, you refused to show any sign of weakness in front of him. Rafe held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. There was a tension between you, an unspoken history that lingered in the air like a palpable force.

As you kept your gaze on Rafe, you suddenly felt a large hand wrap around your bicep and spin you around, much to your surprise. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?" JJ's voice was low, his eyes dark with concern as he studied your face.

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in as you met JJ's gaze. "I-I don't know," you admitted, your voice wavering slightly. "I just... I had to do something."

JJ's expression softened, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he searched your eyes. "You could've gotten hurt," he murmured, his voice laced with worry.

"Well look who it is, JJ Maybank," Rafe's voice cut through the moment, causing JJ to snap a look his way.

JJ's jaw clenched as he turned to face Rafe, his expression hardening with a mixture of anger and frustration. "What the hell do you want, Rafe?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

"Heard the Pogues were back in town. Had to check it out," Rafe smirked, his tone laced with a hint of arrogance.

JJ's expression hardened at Rafe's words, his grip on your hand tightening almost imperceptibly. "You don't belong here, Rafe," he replied sharply, his voice laced with a warning.

Rafe's smirk only widened at JJ's response, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You could feel the tension crackling in the air between them, the animosity palpable as they faced off against each other. It was clear that there was no love lost between Rafe and JJ, and the presence of the Pogues in town only seemed to exacerbate their rivalry.

Rafe's smirk widened as he found amusement in the rise he was getting out of JJ. "Aw, don't tell me you're still clinging onto her, Maybank," he taunted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Thought you'd have moved on by now." He leaned back, crossing his arms confidently, clearly reveling in the tension he was causing.

Rafe's smirk slowly faded, replaced by a flicker of hurt and anger in his eyes as JJ's words hit him. His expression became a battleground of conflicting emotions, each vying for dominance. Hurt pierced through the facade of indifference he tried to maintain, while anger simmered just beneath the surface. His gaze darted between you and JJ, his mind racing to process the revelation. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as Rafe grappled with his emotions. His jaw clenched tightly, knuckles whitening as he fought to regain his composure. It was as if time itself had slowed, each heartbeat echoing loudly in the silence that enveloped them.

Rafe's voice dripped with disbelief as he muttered, "No fucking way." His words were laced with incredulity, his eyes darting back and forth between you and JJ. It was evident that JJ's assertion had rattled him to the core, piercing through his façade of nonchalance. The hurt and anger simmering beneath the surface erupted, seeping into every syllable he uttered.

"Is that what you came for, Rafe? To see her? I bet it is," JJ's voice cut through the tension, his words laden with accusation.

"I bet you spent every day the last two years hoping she'd come back for you, but the whole time she was with me," JJ spat out, his voice laced with bitterness and defiance.

Rafe's expression twisted into a mixture of disbelief and rage as JJ's words sunk in. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, his jaw working as he struggled to find a response. Finally, he managed to choke out, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Maybank."

But JJ wasn't finished. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm talking about. And she knows it too," he retorted, his gaze unwavering as he stared down Rafe.

The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with animosity and unresolved emotions. Sarah, still recovering from her ordeal, watched with wide eyes, silently pleading for the confrontation to end.

You stood by JJ's side, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the exchange unfold. Despite the fear and uncertainty coursing through you, you felt a sense of solidarity with JJ, a shared determination to stand up to Rafe and protect each other.

Rafe's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his gaze flickering between you and JJ, his mind undoubtedly racing with conflicting emotions and thoughts. But before he could say anything else, JJ stepped forward, his voice low but firm.

"Stay away from her, Rafe. She's mine now," JJ warned, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Your heart sank as Rafe's gaze pierced through you, his eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and betrayal that cut deep. Despite everything, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that washed over you, knowing that your presence had ignited this confrontation between two people you cared about deeply.

For a moment, you were paralyzed by the weight of Rafe's stare, feeling as though you were the one responsible for causing him pain. But as the seconds ticked by, you forced yourself to look away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer.

Rafe's bitter laughter echoed through the tense atmosphere, his gaze flickering between you and JJ with a mix of disdain and resignation. With a scornful shake of his head, he pointed accusingly at the two of you, his voice laced with venom.

"You know what? You two deserve each other," he spat, his words dripping with bitterness and contempt. It was clear that the sight of you and JJ together had stirred up a storm of emotions within him, and his resentment was palpable in every syllable he uttered.

The sting of Rafe's words cut deep, igniting a surge of conflicting emotions within you. His accusation hit a nerve, dredging up memories of the tumultuous history you shared with JJ during the turbulent times of your breakup with Rafe. Despite the hurt and anger simmering beneath the surface, there was also a pang of guilt and regret as you grappled with the complexities of your past. Flinching at Rafe's anger and the implication behind his words, you felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach. His comment struck at the heart of your insecurities, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in the harsh glare of his judgment.

"Fuck you, Rafe. You have no right to be mad that I'm with JJ now," your words cut through the tension like a knife, laced with defiance and frustration. The pent-up emotions simmered beneath the surface, boiling over in a torrent of raw honesty. With each syllable, you reclaimed a fragment of your shattered resolve, refusing to be reduced to a pawn in Rafe's game of manipulation and guilt. The anger in your voice mirrored the intensity of your inner turmoil, a fierce declaration of independence against the shadows of your past. In that moment, you drew a line in the sand, daring Rafe to cross it and face the consequences of his actions.

"You ruined my friend's life and you ruined mine. You're the fucking reason I left this place in the first place! Everything would've been fine if it wasn't for you." Your words were like daggers, cutting through the air with a ferocity that left no room for ambiguity. Each accusation carried the weight of years of pain and resentment, a damning indictment of Rafe's role in the chaos that had engulfed your life. The force of your shove mirrored the intensity of your emotions, a physical manifestation of the pent-up anger and frustration that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. In that moment, you refused to be silenced, your voice a defiant cry against the injustices of the past.

As the echoes of your words faded into the silence, you stood your ground, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. You refused to be cowed by Rafe's presence, your gaze unwavering as you met his eyes with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. For a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of remorse in Rafe's expression, a shadow of the boy you once knew hidden beneath layers of bitterness and regret. But you refused to let his momentary weakness sway you, your resolve unyielding in the face of his deception and betrayal.

Rafe's whispered words hung heavy in the air, carrying with them a raw vulnerability that cut through the tension like a knife. "I knew you'd be back here," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had to show myself that you were still real."

His admission struck a chord within you, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that you struggled to contain. "Why does it matter to you if I'm back or not?" you challenged, your voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty.

Rafe's gaze softened as he peered down into your eyes, his expression a tumultuous mix of regret and longing. "Because… because you were the only good thing in my life," he confessed, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

As Rafe's words washed over you, a wave of conflicting emotions threatened to engulf your senses. You shook your head in disbelief, your eyes tightly shut as you fought to keep your composure. The weight of his confession bore down on you, threatening to break through the walls you had erected around your heart.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. The pain of the past, coupled with the raw vulnerability of the present, was almost too much to bear. But you refused to let Rafe see the depth of your turmoil, steeling yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him, unable to meet his gaze as you took a shaky step back. "You need to go," you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of sadness and resolve. Deep down, you knew that confronting the ghosts of your past would only reopen old wounds, wounds that had yet to fully heal.

As Rafe stood before you, his expression a mirror of your own inner turmoil, you felt a pang of regret tugging at your heartstrings. But you knew that for both of your sakes, it was better to leave the past where it belonged and move forward, even if it meant walking away from the one person who had once meant everything to you.

Rafe nodded in acknowledgment, his expression reflecting a sense of resignation. "Okay. Just... don't leave again because of me," he responded, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting with emotion as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "I won't," you promised softly, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a vow made not just to Rafe, but to yourself as well—a pledge to confront the demons of your past and carve out a new path forward, one untainted by the shadows that had haunted you for so long.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from him once more, the weight of his gaze lingering on you like an invisible tether binding you together. But as you walked away, a newfound sense of determination welled up within you, propelling you forward into the unknown with a courage you hadn't known you possessed.

With a heavy heart, Rafe turned away, his steps weighted with the burden of his past and the uncertainty of the future. As he walked away from the scene, the echoes of the confrontation lingered in his mind, haunting him with the knowledge that some wounds may never fully heal. Despite his efforts to bury the pain, it seemed to follow him like a shadow, a constant reminder of the choices he had made and the consequences that ensued. With each step, the distance between him and the chateau grew, but the memories remained, etched into the fabric of his being, serving as a constant reminder of the tumultuous journey that had brought him to this point. And as he disappeared into the night, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held, and whether redemption was truly within reach.

taglist: @rrosiitas, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87,

@augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols, @fastlovela, @wickedlovely121, @fals3-g0d, @givemylovetoall, @lucfics, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle, @maybankslover, @peachy4u2, @hockeybabe87, @yeosxxx, @zizouu23, @h34rtsformilli, @maybankslover, @yawnzshit, @rubixgsworld, @tsumudoll

[loveburrowx]

Performance

Request - Y/N performs with her group and Joe is her biggest supporter

A/N - This is my first fluff story! Enjoy!

As the first note of the bass drum echoed through the cavernous arena, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepared to step out onto the center of the stage. This was it; the moment she had been training for her entire life. She was the main dancer and rapper in a group of four ladies, and tonight's performance was going to be one for the books. Little did she know, her boyfriend Joe was in the audience, about to witness the show of a lifetime.

Her heart raced as she glanced around at the sea of faces, the lights reflecting off of their eager expressions. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment wash over her as she took in the enormity of the moment. The group's choreographer had outdone herself with their latest routine; it was sexy, sultry, and full of energy. Y/N knew she was going to absolutely kill it tonight.

As the first verse of their latest single began, she stepped forward, moving her body in perfect synchronization with the music. The crowd erupted into cheers, and she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. This was what she was born to do; this was her purpose. And as she caught a glimpse of Joe's beaming face in the crowd, she knew that he felt it too. He was the reason she danced, the reason she rapped; he was her everything.

The choreography grew more complex as the song progressed, and Y/N found herself lost in the movement, lost in the music, lost in the moment. She felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins as she executed a series of intricate dance moves, her body glistening under the stage lights. The audience was on their feet now, shouting and screaming, their energy feeding off of hers. She could feel her heart racing, but it only seemed to make her dance better.

The solo performance was finally upon her, and she took a deep breath, stepping forward once again. The music switched to a slow, seductive beat, and she began to unleash her inner siren. Her hips swayed, her body undulated, and her movements were both fluid and powerful. Every move was for Joe, every breath was for him. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her skin, and it only made her dance with more passion, more fire.

As the final notes of the song faded away, she stood before the crowd, her chest heaving, her heart racing. The cheers were deafening, but all she could focus on was Joe's face, his beaming smile, and the way his eyes never left hers. In that moment, she knew that she had given him everything she had, and that he was proud of her. And in that moment, she realized that no matter what happened in the future, she would always have this memory; the memory of dancing for Joe, and the feeling of his love surrounding her like a warm, protective blanket.

The rest of the concert flew by in a blur of music, lights, and movement, but for Y/N, it was as if she were still standing alone on that stage, her heart beating in time with Joe's. Even as she shared the spotlight with her fellow group members, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and peace wash over her. This was where she belonged; with them, and with Joe.

The final encore came and went, and as the crowd began to file out of the arena, Y/N made her way backstage, her body aching from the exertion of the performance but her heart full to bursting with joy. She found Joe waiting for her, a huge grin on his face, and she couldn't help but laugh as she collapsed into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the strength of his embrace.

"I knew you were going to be amazing," he whispered into her ear, nibbling gently on her lobe. "You are incredible, you know that?"

Y/N leaned back, looking up into his eyes. "I couldn't have done it without you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're my everything, Joe."

He smiled down at her, his eyes shining with love and admiration. "And you're mine," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Always."

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would always have this moment; this memory of the night they danced together, their love burning bright on the stage.

The afterparty was a blur of music, laughter, and champagne, but for Y/N and Joe, it was a quiet oasis where they could escape the chaos and revel in their own little world. They danced together, slow and sensual, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. They ate and drank, savoring every bite and every sip, knowing that it was a celebration of not only their success, but their love.

As the night wore on, they found a quiet corner of the room and collapsed onto a plush couch. Y/N nestled herself into Joe's side, feeling the warmth of his body against her own. He ran his fingers through her hair, tugging gently on the ends as he watched her, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"I love you so much," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the music.

He smiled down at her, his expression softening. "I love you more." And even though she knew it was impossible, she felt her heart swell with happiness at the thought.

They spent the rest of the night like that, lost in each other's company, lost in the moment. As the sun began to rise, signaling the end of the party and the beginning of a new day, they knew that they had created a memory that would last a lifetime; a memory of love, of passion, of two souls intertwined forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way through the crowds of revelers, stepping out into the cool morning air. The city lay before them, still asleep but bustling with life, and for a moment, they stood there, taking it all in. Y/N leaned into Joe, her head resting on his shoulder, and she felt the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, and she knew that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

As they started to walk, their fingers laced together, she glanced up at him, her eyes shining with love. "Where to now, handsome?" she asked with a grin.

He smiled down at her, his gaze never leaving hers. "Well," he said, "I was thinking we could grab some breakfast, maybe take a walk along the beach...?"

She laughed, her head tilting to the side. "Sounds perfect," she replied, squeezing his hand. "Just you and me, huh?"

He nodded, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Just us," he said. "Always." And in that moment, as they walked together through the city, their future stretching out before them like a blank canvas, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced or how the world might change, they would always have each other. They would always have this love.

[tiyoin]

fuck it predestined mate jade + jade rot

i fully think jade would date an alternative girl

not tiktok alt, but actually alternative

is this self indulgent? ABSOLUTELY- BUT PUNK PHASE JADE STILL RESIDES SO IMAGINE AN UNLIKELY LOVERS SCENARIO

he meets me you

cw : yandere coded, creepy jade, violence (to azul’s phone), jade almost getting hit by a car? 🙈,

warning this is VERY self indulgent. but i make it as reader friendly as possible. (not general descriptions of body, skin color, or a random fucking name)

tdlr: watch jade spiral el oh el

randomly one day while in town. no big pivoting place like a café or bookstore. not a too unique place like a record shop either.

nope. it’s on the corner of the street.

it was hot out, jade noted uncomfortably while floyd groaned to azul about grabbing another ice cream cone to (and verbatim) ‘beat the heat’

but azul told him to get over himself and to suck it up.

the heat of the spring day seemed to be only affecting the mermen, as you seemed to be fine. the heat the furtherest thing from your mind as you scowl at your phone.

you were wearing headphones, yet your hair was styled in a way to put some of your front pieces in front of your face.

you wore a tight brown top that hugged your upper body. it’s color played a critical role in your darker clothing ensemble.

there was a chunky, studded belt that lined your waist. it so easily contrasted with your body shape as the baggy pants you wore also swam on you. he could miss that you were drowning in the washed denim you wore.

there was a dark jacket that snaked around your elbows, exposing your skin to the spring sun. and jade is one to testify, that no matter what season twisted wonderland seemed to be in, the sun was always scorching.

he almost scowled thinking about sunset savanah and the scalding sands. mentally noting to never travel to either places in the fear of drying out.

painting a blue and dark oasis, his mind started playing tricks on him. almost had him take up the habit that belonged to his brother; deciding what sea creature you were

not floyd enough…

🐬seconding what sea creature you were‼️

normally yes, he wouldn’t partake in this unusual habit and leave that part of character reading to floyd.

yet jade made a special exception for you. i mean, could anyone blame him??

your clothes [besides your top] were swimming on you. he thought about you being an octopus with how puffy your pants made you look. but a single thought of you and azul made him throw the thought out quicker than he could swim.

he thought about a pufferfish, a jellyfish, sevens, even a shrimp. yet none of them seemed to stick.

…he paused…

what if-

he shook his head hurriedly. his eyes darted from your huffing, distracted figure and to the bickering of azul and floyd.

still about ice cream. jade could almost chuckle as the two became more mob-esque. floyd’s towering stature bending awkwardly as he sneered at azul. props to azul for not even twitching, as the silver haired male grew increasingly aggressive at his twin. finger pointed so straight he swear the two human bones would snap in on themselves.

his inner voice giggled at the imaginative scene.

albeit the public disturbance, jade was relieved that no one had caught him slipping. there were only a handful of times where jades more… eel like mannerisms would seep in.

where he’d get the rhythmic itch to… observe. he quite enjoyed it too, so he never quite minded that pesky itch. at most he used it for… say…

motivation :)

his head slowly turned back to the street. his eyes, ever slower, were back on you.

yet he quickly snapped them to the car racing intersection when he noticed a change.

you were listening.

your bulky headphones were ever so slight pushed backwards, taking a few strands of your hair with it.

sure, you two werent standing side by side, as he was closer to the street than you were. but there were… unforeseen and secret advantages mermen had that they kept secret from pesky humans.

i mean, did they really think they would hand over every little thing about them to some lesser race? as bad as it sounds, it’s just the truth. scientifically speaking, it’s facts!

jade would wonder how his classmates would realize that when his vision was enhanced, it was enhanced.

yes as an eel is eyes are less than… savvy, but as a merman compared to a human? you’re joking right.

so even from his cowards facing position he was able to watch you comfortably. the slight twitches in your frown, your softening eyebrows, your less aggressive swipes at your phone-

ah, you were looking for music. 

you were scrolling mindlessly through different artists. album covers blurred in with each other as you skipped skipped skipped.

he fought back a smirk- you must be a very picky person.

there was a noise behind him. you whipped your head back as jade watched you watch the scene unfold. floyd, was looking away sheepishly, well, as sheepishly as his wolfish smile would let him appear. azul was gasping, huffing as steam seemed to be blowing from his ears. he looked like the kettle heartslabyul’s dorm leader would use for his little tea parties.

jade hadn’t realized he tuned into this weeks episode of looney tunes, yet he met floyd’s unwavering eyes as azul chewed him out for- breaking his phone.

there was a silent pause between the two. floyd’s smile faltered as jade smiled.

jade knew he picked correctly as floyd’s eyes seemed to snap to yours. making quick and intense eye contact with you, jade saw you flinch from the scrutinizing stare of motlen gold and empty matter.

flinching back, jade heard you curse harshly under your breathe, head shooting down to your phone again, thumb scrolling mindlessly on the dark device. it occasionally lit up, receptive of your touches. only a few turn on’s did you decide to turn on your phone again to continue music browsing.

you finger stopped on a band.

he couldn’t be more elated if he tried. you had picked his favorite band! matchbox!

he couldn’t hide the slight twitches in his right leg as he saw you browsing the songs. from your profile it seemed like you liked a number of their songs- 6 total.

clicking your liked songs from them, he saw your pointer finger trail down the list of names. he could almost hear the internal squabble in your mind.

jade took this as an intermission. looking back to the street in front of him, the light was still green and the orange hand was still glowing strong. there was another group of walkers on the other side of the street.

a family of 5, two older couples, and a lone teenage boy. well, that’s what he deciphered him as as he looked at the hoodie clad male.

black hoodie over his tall stature, he didn’t have the pride of a man, but jade could tell he had the arrogance of an adolescent.

he took a deep breathe, closing his eyes slightly as he felt the quips of wind rush past him as the roaring of cars went and came. if he pretended enough, he could pretend the flashes of wind were from the deep sea currents, that the zooming of cars was from the low vibrancy tumble of the currents.

why does he feel so home sick all of the sudden?

steeping back a bit after a particularly fast gist of wind, jade was now standing side by side with you.

almost naturally he looked at you again. there was an urge to remember what you were wearing. brown topless top and black baggy jeans.

his eyes widened slightly. oh

his mind started to jumble. he was full on staring at you, you no doubly noticing his gaze kept yours glued to your phone.

his thoughts were too fast for him to grasp. to fast for him to make sense of. there was no rhyme or reason to the chaotic mess of thought. there were a few times his english thoughts would switch with his mother tongue.

just as his mind was a mess, jade had no doubt that his facial expression exposed everything going on with him.

there was a thundering voice, one that sounded so familiar… yet unlike the usual calm collectiveness of it, the familiar soft lull… had gained a friend

talk

“sun killer” his mouth blurted out so fast he couldn’t help the hand that reflexively snapped towards his mouth. slanted eyes widened as he tensed.

your body slowly moved to face him, but only slightly as you were still on-guard, still cautious about this strangers- his fist clenched at his side- no stop this foolish thought.

he tried reasoning with the overwhelm.

though once his eyes met yours…

that was when you both acknowledged each other for the first time

that was when his mind went silent. like a conductor holding the orchestra. the audience gripping their seats, teetering in anticipation as they waited impatiently for the next musical feast.

your mouth gaped open, once, twice, as you struggled to find a way to address the stranger.

you head shot to look across the street, so did jades.

yet when jade looked back, he only saw your back scurry away from him as the intersection became clear, and the white man started walking.

he stood there, limbless as you moved your headphone roughly back on your ear. you picked at the wrist holding your phone for a second. undressing your wrist and your phone of the brown hair tie, you brought it to your other wrist, switching your phone too.

he lost you when the other group started walking, covering your retreating form almost perfectly.

his right leg’s muscle surged with longing, step foward, it seemed to tell him. use me it whispered, use me to catch up.

a hand slammed onto his shoulder. the hairs on his body standing on edge as his widened eyes snapped to- floyd.

his body didn’t ease, if anything it got stiffer at his twins touch. floyd’s mouth started to open slowly but jade’s head was already burning back towards the street.

eyes scanning every direction before he found you once again. you had already safely made it to the other side. body erect like a hare on alert, staring at the eyes of its predator- the wolf

like a hare, you didn’t bother staying to find out just what his intentions were as you already turned to make your leave.

the group of people sauntered in front of him.

he was once again in the kelp forest of home. in the tall, slimy mid section of the ocean. it’s murky waters were an excellent source of coverage and ambush hunter like him needed. the haunting environment eased his soul, he claimed whenever floyd questioned him about his frequent haunt.

floyd never stepped foot in those med section waters. because as much as floyd is his brother, and hade is his… they were both still male eels.

his body consciously bucked from floyd’s grip.

the thickness of the kelp jungle’s tendrails surrounded him, brushed against him, whispered to him inaudible words. secrets no doubt. there would always be a secret or two wrapped in the leaves gentle yet suffocating embraces.

his inner conscious giggled at that thought.

conscious? was that what this was?

no

the kelp purred. leaving swaying in the oceans rocking waves.

the kelp started to thin out- you

his eyes widened as he was thrusted out of the kelp jungle and stepped foward-

“jade”

a voice screamed at him, at his ear as a sudden ringing noise filled his head. a sudden static-y feeling throughout his body drowned the voice out.

go

it pushed him. again is body staggered foward, leg doing little to catch him.

his eyes weren’t on the street, they were on your disappearing figure as you walk away on the parallel side walk.

a car rushed past his face.

“ja

then a honk

then a crushing weight on his shoulder.

with a labored gasp his body trembled. his legs couldn’t stand on their own as his upper body sagged between two hard walls.

“jade! what are you doing? you almost got hit” the wall- azul yelled, spit flying from his lips as his free hand waved around just to show how upset he was.

the wall on his other side- his brother floyd, remained silent. jade didn’t bear look at his brother.

azul’s scodling seemed to slowly die out as the dorm head realized his vice dorm head wasn’t even listening to him. wasn’t even acknowledging him in the slightest.

an irritated sigh leaves his lips. azul thought it better to use a different approach at getting information from his shocked friend.

yet the moment he opened his mouth, floyd decided it was his round for questioning. yet azul didn’t seem to have the security clearance to understand the insides of their code.

“…kinda reminded me of a grouper, don’t you think?”

jade looked to his brother. his heart was hammering against his ribcage painfully. knots were being tightened in his gut painfully. his thoughts were racing painfully. everything about you was painful so far.

and yet, there was a dopey twitch to his lips, an w relax of his brow as he answered his brother.

“it appears they do…”

my honest reaction after writing jade get so overwhelmed by being in the same proximity of reader for the first time that he almost gets hit by a car 🤭 :

by the way… the bond already snapped in place 😻

it snapped in when you got to night raven actually!!

jade just doesn’t understand this! (none of them will actually cause they’re all emotional disturbed in their own ways. each n every one of them)

who knew meeting your predestined mate was this painful? i did. who knew that years of your body rejecting a bond, only to suddenly have a reciprocating bond out of no where…. your body would need time to adjust? i did

welcome! to twst boys being fucking whipped- so whipped in fact that they end up a little… yandere

*i gasp!* *i giggle* *imagine me making that face ^^^^

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 10: Soulbound

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

Your fingers twitch and knead against satiny textiles as wakefulness begins to return you to existence. A lightheaded daze shrouds your vision as your eyes crack open. The canopy of your four-poster bed suspends above you. The drapery is embroidered beautifully with stars, constellations, moons in all phases, and soaring dragons, all revolving around the central sun. In this dream-like state, the depictions seem to move, playing out their destinies against the indigo astral sea as shadows gambol over the extravagant fabric. It would be enchanting if it were not making your head spin uncomfortably.

As you squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers clench and twist the fabric beneath you, and a feeble whine sighs from your lips. Your tongue feels numb and lazy, sagging in your mouth uselessly, and your body feels as fuzzy and impotent as your blurred vision.

“You are awake.”

Astarion’s voice grates at the inception of your consciousness, and you recoil as much as your bloodless body will allow. You still feel his hand around your neck, squeezing tight, halting the pleas in your throat as his fangs sawed at your neck, ripping and tearing the soft flesh. You tumble off the edge of the bed in your panic, and his hands break your fall.

He’s touching you. Hells, he’s touching you, and you want, nay need, him to fucking stop lest you suffocate.

“Don’t touch me,” you sob with a croak, flinging your hands up to protect yourself from further harm, palms heating as your magic surges. “Please. Gods. Don’t touch me.”

Astarion’s hands jerk away, and you shudder while trying to breathe. The stabbing pain in your throat is intolerable, fresh tears springing to your eyes, and your fingers tentatively prod the tender flesh. You don’t need a mirror to know that your skin is revoltingly bruised, a hemorrhaging mural composed by his wrath, and you whimper at the contact of your fingertips. The muscles in your arms and legs still feel like gelatin. They wobble weakly as you push yourself into a corner, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Darling-” Astarion’s hands are poised near you as if he might be able to stop the inevitable crumbling if only he could find the right place to brace it.

“Leave me alone.” You choke out grimly, swallowing the pain caused by your gruff inflection.

“It’s me,” he says, small and shaky.

You need time to think, to regain your composure, and you cannot do it with his eyes on you, his voice repeating your name like a prayer and his hands trying to find where your pieces are weakest so he can give them strength.

“Get out!” You wail despite the barbaric sting that causes more tears to rain out of your eyes. “Get the fuck out!”

“I… Yes, of course. As you wish.” Astarion stutters hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he will heed your commands. The door hinges creak as he closes it behind him, “I’m sorry,” he breathes with a sigh. “Truly.”

Like an ancient ruin that can no longer persevere against the ravages of time, you let yourself collapse and crumble.

The overbearing walls of the Crimson Palace wash over him in waves as he roams through them in a stupor. His fingertips drag across the chilled panels as he tries to orient himself. It feels like he’s waking from a nethermost trance, and his alertness has not fully recovered.

He dives for the desk when he enters the study. It’s full of papers and ledgers in neat piles, and he grabs at parchment chaotically, sending it scattering, sheets fluttering to the ground around him. His eyes scan the documents as he shuffles through them quickly. All in his hand, signature, name, but he does not recall any of this. He tosses sheet after sheet to the side until he finds one with a date.

Eight months.

Eight months of nonexistence. Of something walking around wearing his skin, using his name, speaking in his voice, imitating him.

Where the fuck has he been all this time?

He slams his hands on the desk. It cracks and caves in, regurgitating its contents to the floor. He frowns, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Her voice still reverberates, an echo in his mind, as she said goodbye in a hauntingly melodic timbre.

Why did she leave him?

Dashing through the halls, the floor mocks him in creeks and groans for his heavy steps. He pushes all the doors open as he progresses further into the palace until he finds what must be his room. Opening the wardrobes and dressers, he tosses his clothing haphazardly to the floor, detached from his typical compulsion for fastidiousness.

Nothing. Not a single article of clothing and none of her possessions are here. Why?

His heart pounds as he jogs through the palace until he catches her scent at the top of the dark staircase leading down into a murky darkness – the old spawn quarters.

No. This cannot be, surely. He wouldn’t. Right?

He bounds down the stairs, 2 or 3 steps at a time, until he comes to a slightly ajar door in the hallway with a lock that he does not recall being there. The pads of his shaky fingers stroke the cool metal, and he swallows the lump balling in his throat.

This has to be a nightmare. This cannot be real.

The door whines when he pushes it and peers into the room. It smells strongly of Jasmine, Honeysuckle and Vanilla - it smells like her. Astarion staggers in and throws open the simple wardrobes and chests, breaking the doors off some of them in his haste.

She left everything, which can only mean one thing - she fled.

What has he done?  

“Lord Ancunin?”

Good Gods, he’s come to loathe that singsong voice like nails on a chalkboard, and the back of his throat tickles as it hauls him away from his reflections.

“Elowyn,” he sneers spitefully, crinkling his nose in disgust. “How many times must we have this discussion? If this disobedience persists, I may have to reconsider our little agreement. I have no need for a spawn that cannot follow simple orders.”

The lie rolls off his tongue, smooth and modulated with the hint of a threat. Elowyn wishes to be given the gift of eternal life, and she’s idiotic and vain enough to believe he would ever grant her such a thing, but it is a simple enough falsity to keep her happy and submissive.

“I beg your forgiveness, Master.” Elowyn whimpers, dropping to her knees with her hands clasped in her lap, “It won’t happen again.”

“Good girl. Be sure it doesn’t, or you will force me to teach you another lesson.” He drawls unenthusiastically while staring at his nails. Threatening her brings him no pleasure. He finds it all a rather tedious business. “Now, I did not come here to chitchat. Araj, tell me what you have discovered.”

Araj glares at him with her arms crossed. The Drow has much more spirit and is more arduous to keep in line than her counterpart.

“Hungry, Lord?” Araj quips and leans her head to the side with an egregious grin. “You are considerably ill-tempered today. There’s always a neck here available for the biting if you were so inclined.”

“You can offer all you wish,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “The answer will be no until the end of time. You disgust me.”

“Such harsh words for an old friend.” Araj pouts sarcastically before launching into the excuses he’s already heard. “Your blood is not easy to work with. It’s volatile and eats through everything like caustic acid.”

“You brought me here to tell me of more failure?” He snarls, baring his teeth. He considers killing them both. Their tests have gotten him nothing and no closer to understanding what’s wrong with him, but there is at least one more answer he seeks before he can do away with them. “And the sun immunity?”

“It’s hard to say,” Araj shrugs. “Why the sudden interest in the sun resistance? I thought we were here to see what your blood may be capable of, not to waste our time trying to bottle useless effects. Why would you need a potion to make you invulnerable? You are already immune.”

“What yourself, Araj,” he growls threateningly, his brows knitting together in a fierce scowl that casts shadows over his eyes. “You are under my employ. I get to decide what’s useful to me and what isn’t. You will do as instructed.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Araj smirks. “If this is about that lovely spawn of yours, it may be prudent to allow us access to her blood.”

He’s out of his chair before Araj can blink, slamming her against the wall with one dagger to her throat and the other pressed harshly to her abdomen.

“If you touch her, I will liberate your vile innards from your body. Then, I will hunt down your family, lovers, and friends, turn them into my obedient meat puppets and let them rot away in my dungeon for eternity. She is off-limits. You are to go nowhere near her. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Araj swallows hard, her eyes wide with fear. “Perhaps you might consider an alternative? Turn Elowyn, and we can use her blood for testing instead.”

Throwing his head back, he laughs loudly, making both women jump, “You do not give the hound a bone until it has won the race. Find another way.”

He releases Araj, sheathing his daggers, and stalks away.

Araj’s voice stops him, “Elowyn tells me you’re refusing to give her more samples. We cannot run further tests without it.”

“No.” She would not want him to do this, and he has failed her enough for one day, “You will get no more samples from me until you have done as I ask. The next time you request an audience with me, you better have results, Araj, or there will be consequences.”

“Is that a threat?” Araj spits harshly.

“My dear,” he drawls nonchalantly. With a subtle movement, a dagger hurtles through the air and embeds into the wall so close to Araj’s neck that the shiny steel pets her skin. He looms over Araj, forcing her to arch her back while he hauls the dagger from the wall, “It’s a fucking promise.”

There’s an odd beauty to darkness, an inky void that obscures your surroundings and allows you to delude yourself into believing the elixir of lies you pour into your soul. In it, you can pretend, if only for a moment, that you are not a prisoner of your past and your sins are rendered null as they circle like vultures smothered by the shadows.

So, you lay in the jet-black abyss. Even as your bones begin to rue the rigid floor, and your eyes can shed no more tears, you lay unmoving.

Astarion sits beside you on the floor with his back pressed flat against the wall. He hasn’t uttered so much as a syllable since he settled there hours ago. When you look into his eyes, you see mayhem, starlight and darkness, treading the edge between diabolical and divine. He is a devil cloaked in the skin of an angel with blood dripping from his eyes, but Gods, you’ll ignite the world and walk across the hot coals of its remains if it means preserving the light in him.

You’re a warrior. When life threatens you with a battle, you will awaken every monster, every dragon, every demon that slumbers within you and answer with bloodshed.

You’ve wallowed in your self-pity long enough. A war awaits, and you intend to win it or die trying.

Crawling into his lap, Astarion wraps his arms around you. One of his hands comes to the back of your head, and his cheek presses tightly to yours as you slip your arms around his neck.

And Gods, it feels like heaven to be held in the arms of hell.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes next to your ear while he sweeps your hair away from your neck. His fingers shake as they brood over the bruised skin and gnarled, coin-sized holes that his fangs left. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

You press your hand against his, flat palm to palm. His hand dwarfs yours, “It’s okay.”

Astarion scoffs while his fingers interlock with yours, “It is most certainly not okay. I very nearly drained you dry, and who in the Hells knows what I would have done with you afterward!” His voice is unsteady, labouring beneath misery, “I will take you back to Shadowheart and Gale come morning. We can continue your lessons until you can feed yourself. Once that is accomplished, our business will be concluded, and you will never have to see me again. Freedom, as much as I am willing to grant you, is yours.”

Your eyes distend, and your brows pull down. Astarion is granting you the freedom you want. You should be happy, ecstatic even. So, why does it fill you with dread?

“Is that what you want?” You choke out, faint and tuneless, and pray to any God that hasn’t turned their back on you that his answer is not yes. “You want me to leave?”

“No, little love,” he finally answers in an eerily, delicate baritone after too many agonizing minutes of silent contemplation. “I am selfish as I always have been, perhaps even more since the Rite. Of course, I do not wish you to go, but you are not safe with me. I cannot control it. I have lost days before - days of not knowing where I had gone or what I had done.” He chuckles sarcastically, dismal and sullen, “We get what we deserve in the end, I suppose.”

Perhaps we do.

“I’m not going,” you state matter-of-factly. “Do you trust me, Astarion?”

Astarion gently draws you back to look into your eyes, sorrow dulling his expression with his lips firm in a tight line, “You may be the only person in the entirety of the cosmos that I trust implicitly.”

“Then trust that when the spark in your eyes is snuffed out, I can be your glow,” you vow, chillingly formidable. “My soul is forged in fire, and I will burn brighter than your demons and choke the darkness. I will do whatever it takes. I will always bring you home.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” he admonishes you with a shake of his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Good Gods, you can be obtuse sometimes,” you roll your eyes at him. “You can stop posturing this charade of ignorance any time. I know you heard what I said to Gale.”

Astarion’s eyes drift to your hand, embraced with his, and his thumb skims up and down yours, “What if I am incapable of loving you back?”

Can’t or won’t? 

“I don’t expect you to,” you strive to keep your voice steady and casual even as your heart fractures and implodes in your chest. “Love given with the requisite of reciprocation is not love. I give it to you freely, as it always was, as it always will be. May I speak plainly?”

Astarion arches a brow, “Go on.”

“I don’t think you’re incapable of love, Astarion. I believe you’re scared of it.”

“Love is a sickness of the heart.” Astarion takes a deep breath, his voice grave. “It will hail itself your saviour but be your downfall.”

“Then...” you shrug, “down I go.”

Astarion loving you is a fantasy you’ve long relinquished. A pathetic hope that would asphyxiate you in pools of failed attempts. But wrapped in his arms, staring into scarlet eyes dusted with an ethereal radiance, a murmur begins to bite at your thoughts, quickly becoming a roar, filling your ears.

There’s that feeling again. That connection of invisible threads bridging the gap between you and the presence lingering in the back of your head that you cannot touch. It tugs at the borders of your mind with a request. No, an invitation. For the first time since it made its home in your consciousness when you reach out, it does not shy away, and you embrace it.

There’s an ear-splitting rush and a feeling of sinking. Your body jerks, trying to right itself, but Astarion holds you firmly, pulling you tighter.

“Let yourself sink,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Trust me just a little further.”

You stop fighting the feeling and plummet. Suddenly, you’re not just you any longer. You are you, and you are him simultaneously. One being in two bodies. You can feel the comfortable pressure of your body against him, and his heart beats behind your ribs.

Another abrupt drop. It makes your stomach flutter, and you’re in the bowels of a stygian doom. You feel the corruption you heard in his mind as if it were in yours, infecting your thoughts with sadistic rants and relentless chittering. You can almost taste the rancid colloquy on your tongue, and you fight the urge to retch.

A hunger longing to escape, thundering against the bars of its prison. It hums enticing promises in an absorbing, almost angelic inflection that compels you to release it, and you’re horrified to find yourself tempted.

You’re dragged away, a feeling of hurtling through time and space, not entirely unlike portal travel. His voice echoes in your mind, bellowing in your head, begging you to peer into his darkness, dance with his demons, and love him anyway.

I do, you answer, you are safe with me.

Your eyelashes flutter as you come back. You no longer hear the voices mumbling or feel that malevolent spectre with its seraphic affirmations, but you can still feel him in a way you’ve never felt before.

“I- I don’t understand,” you breathe, trying to reestablish yourself with your body, thoughts and feelings, “What was that?”

“I have always been with you.” Astarion gently taps your temple, “In here. You cannot tell me you have not felt me. I know you have because I always feel you.”

You can’t help the awe transforming your face as you continue feeling his desires, wants, and fears flowing through you as you flow through him, two stars colliding and recollecting unified.

“I thought that was just how you could compel me.”

“Well... it is,” he nods, “but there is much more to it than that.”

“Did you have this with...” You cut yourself off when you realize what you’re about to blurt out, biting your tongue so hard you draw blood.

Astarion smirks, “You know it works both ways, right?” You hear his voice in your head and only realize that it’s not him speaking when you comprehend his mouth isn’t moving, “Just because you don’t say it doesn’t mean I don’t hear it.”

Fuck. Are none of my thoughts private any longer? Did I throw open the door for the devil? 

“The devil, hm? A little harsh, don’t you think?” Astarion giggles. He must see the terror in your eyes, or Hells, does he feel it? Either way, he squeezes your hand. “Say what you were going to say,” Astarion instructs. “You might as well just say it.”

“I didn’t mean that you’re the devil!” You yelp and swallow hard, “Did you have this with Cazador?”

You wince as the name strolls off your tongue. You were never to utter that name in Astarion’s presence, and whenever you did, you paid for your carelessness. You impulsively cower, thrusting your eyes shut, magic rising in a sharp upswing.

“Easy, darling. I’m not going to hurt you. I would make a very dashing devil.” Astarion coos while rubbing your arm, “Yes and no. I felt something similar; that ubiquity rooted in my mind gave him the power to control me, but the link concluded there. This… bond, if you will, is unique to you and me.”

“Why did it not feel like this before? I can feel you, Astarion. I can feel your heart beating as if it were in my chest.” You push your palm against his shirt and let it heat slightly, and your skin starts to heat in concert, “I can feel this as if I were doing it to myself. I feel your desires, wants, and fears. Good Gods, I feel everything.”

It’s gloriously overwhelming, akin to a pleasure so intense that it borders on pain. Your nerves and synapses are overloaded as they attempt to make sense of all this information circuiting.

“I had to open the door, so to speak.” Astarion kisses your heated palm with a wolfish grin. “Tell me. What do I want, little love?”

I want you, it arises in your mind, drifting on the current between you.

“Me.” You stutter, feeling like all the breath has been sucked out of your lungs. You stare at him wide-eyed, “You want... me?”

“Until the world falls down,” he purrs tenderly with a genuine smile. “Do not worry. You are able to close and open the connection, same as I. I need not be in your head all the time. Your dirty thoughts are private if you wish, but I do hope you share.”

“Can you force the connection open?”

“Yes,” he retorts blatantly, “but I have not crossed that line, and I do not plan to, and before you ask, no, you cannot force it open. You can, however, request it simply by reaching out. Wherever I am, I will feel it.”

You rest your hand where your heart used to beat. Hells, it feels like it is beating again, but you’re feeling his. You thought you missed this sensation, but right now, you’re finding it a harsh cramp in your chest.

“Astarion, this… this is incredible.” Tears well in your eyes. He’s letting you in, and the significance of this gesture is staggering, “Thank you.”

“It is quite something, isn’t it?” Astarion takes his lips in yours, and you can feel his eagerness, his rampant desire and his enjoyment. When your tongues meet, tasting each other, you’re blown away by pleasure, yours and his mixed.

“Oh my, this will make for some very depraved carnal fun. I could read your body before, but now I can feel it. Hmm, the possibilities are titillating.” Astarion grins devilishly, “But that will have to wait. You are weak and must rest. I could find you some food if you wish. It will help you recover quicker, but it will not be of the four-legged variety.”

“Unless it’s your purple-haired hussy, I’m not interested.” You smirk. “I will make an exception on my dietary restrictions for her.”

“Oh, still positively green with envy, I see. I can feel your hatred. It’s delectable,” Astarion giggles. “My pretty consort, I do not like to see doubt cast upon your face. I told you I’ve never taken her to my bed. You need not be invidious.”

“Will you take me to your bed? I- I,” you stumble embarrassingly over your tongue. It feels cumbersome in your mouth, “I would like to rest with you tonight.”

You feel a rush of delight mixed with astoundment. Perhaps what’s more flabbergasting is that he simply lets you feel it, not attempting to camouflage or muzzle it.

“You do?” Astarion’s brows rise and curve upward, “I mean,” he clears his throat. “Of course. I can deny you nothing. You need not ask permission. You’re more than welcome to rest with me any night.”

“Well, in that case,” you smirk foxlike, “which wardrobe is mine then?”

The question only further increases the exhilaration you’re feeling ebbing from him. It’s so potent, a high so gratifying that you could get addicted to pleasing him - a dangerous notion.

“I suppose I will have to acquire you one.” Astarion chuckles and kisses your forehead, “Can you walk, or shall I carry you to bed?”

You scoff and do your best, but your muscles are still depleted of the sustenance required to function, and you wobble even with Astarion stabilizing you.

“Carry you, it is, clumsy thing.” He laughs lightheartedly while taking you into his arms. “Come, my love. Let’s go to our bed, hm?”

“Our bed,” you muse, kissing his cheek. “I do like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” he says, suddenly frighteningly serious, “Very much.”

The mattress dips as Astarion gets into bed. You’ve never really realized how enormous this damn bed is. Even with both of you lying in it, there’s so much space that it makes him feel far away, and you mourn the physicality.

A grin splits across his face, and he raises his arm, inviting you in, “I can feel that - you know, your desire to be close. No, it’s more than that. Isn’t it?” You can feel him scan the emotion, deciphering it, “It feels like a need. I suppose I should not be surprised. You never could get enough of me.”

“Astarion.” Pushing yourself close to him, you rest your head on his arm. The pads of your fingers rub the silken skin of his chest. Rest is starting to beckon you toward your trance. “What does this mean for us?”

“It can mean as little or as much as you wish it to,” his fingers meander the valley up your spine. “Nothing has to change between us, or we can… try for something more.”

As the dreamscape unfolds behind the closed lids of your eyes, your sensibility fading, you whisper, “Do you love me, Astarion?”

Emotional pandemonium tosses like waves on a rough sea. Alarm. Resentment. Dread. That proverbial portal slams closed frantically with so much force that it peppers your vision behind your eyelids white, and you lurch upward with your hand to your forehead with a howl.

It feels like a guillotine to your soul, slicing it in two. You are hollow. Your chest is still, the borrowed beat from Astarion’s heart dying. The slipstream of emotions no longer flows and combines as one enchanted ballad.

You are alone, completely incomplete, and you have never felt more dead than this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion rubs your back and kisses your shoulder softly. “I did not expect it to pain you. I’m still learning. I will take heed of my haste from now on. That’s enough rooting around in my head for one day. Rest now.”

The pain ebbs, and your thoughts reform, piecing themselves back together. You lay down without a word because you’re unsure of what you can say in your state of confusion. The feelings, none of them love or even affection, but you’ve been feeling his veneration all night.

What the Hells does it all mean?

The sun-warmed stones of the courtyard thaw the icy chill of your skin as you lay under the radiant rays. The sky is full of fluffy, white clouds like unsheared sheep grazing across a cerulean plain. You thought this might make you feel as alive as when the bond between you and Astarion was open, but instead, it’s another reminder you’re a walking, talking corpse.

A feather-light breeze flutters your hair around your face and carries the smell of food, well, people but food to you, reminding you of your hunger. Those cramps in your stomach have returned, and the unquenchable thirst is parching your throat, making your tongue feel like an arid desert.

Firey orbs rotate above, and you twist them into constellations, which you often do when your mind is unsettled. Astarion said you could try for more; it sounds like fantasies made reality until you remember that he’d said he wasn’t sure he could love you. In that case, what does more even mean to him? Do you take the risk and put your heart on the table?

Everything is getting so fucking messy.

How can you tell what is genuine with him? Gale wasn’t wrong when he said Astarion knows how to manipulate you. He hardly needs to compel you because he knows what buttons to push and pull, the words to say, to get what he wants. He always has. All roads always lead back to him. Is it your heart that gravitates to Astarion, or is it something far more sinister? Are you just ingrained to be drawn to your creator? How can you know your feelings versus just an innate reflex that was planted and has taken root in your consciousness?

“What’s troubling you?” Astarion lays down beside you with an arch brow and his crimson eyes vivid in the sunlight.

“Everything,” you sigh, “Just everything.”

Astarion rolls to his side and puts his hand on your arm. He looks bothered by your answer with one brow pulled slightly down with his head cocked, “Is it something I did? You can tell me.”

“No.” The orbs start to absorb each other until there are only two remaining. You make them violently clash and burst like a firework, “You didn’t do anything. Where did you go this morning? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I would like to take you somewhere today.” Astarion sits and takes your hand, kissing the palm and all your fingertips, “Will you come?”

Sitting, you pull your knees to your chest, “You want to go out during the day?”

“Yes, during the day.” He purrs in a soothing baritone. “You’re safe from the sun with me. You need not hide in the manor all the time.”

“It’s not the sun, Astarion.” A lie. It’s always a little bit about the sun. That phobia is alive and well. You’re starting to wonder if it’s less of a phobia and more of some weird vampiric instinct. “It’s all the people. I’m hungry, and my control is dreadful. I can’t be trusted around them. I’m not sure how you did it.”

“Centuries of practice, love. You do quite well for a young spawn. Cazador kept us in the kennels until we could control the hunger. I was in there for many years, I think.” Astarion cocks his head, drawing his brows down as if he didn’t mean to divulge that information but continues. “You have my word; I will not put you into a situation you cannot handle.”

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, “I’ll go.”

“Splendid,” Astarion stands and hauls you up with him, “You can ride a horse, yes?”

Your brows pop up, rounding your eyes, “Me? Of course. Do you? Last I checked, you hated those beasts.”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Astarion rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, “I am more than capable of riding the beasts. I don’t have to like them."

“This is going to be so much fun,” you giggle. “I truly cannot wait to see this. The Vampire Ascendant on a horse. Miracles never cease!”

“Cheeky pup,” he smirks and bumps your shoulder.

It’s been a while since you’ve been in the saddle, but you settle quickly. With your feet in the stirrups and hands on the reins, the dapple-grey mare canters with a rhythmic stride. Astarion’s steed, a large jet-black gelding, keeps pace effortlessly. It’s hard to keep your eyes off Astarion. In the saddle, he attracts attention with a cut debonair form, his shoulders back, hips rolling smoothly to match his gelding’s long strides, and his hair flowing handsomely in the wind.

He catches you admiring him with your mouth dropped open and smirks with a chuckle, nodding in the direction to follow and eases his gelding into a gallop. The two horses soar over the plains outside Baldur's Gate with booming hoofbeats, manes streaming in the wind, and tails held high.

There is something so unbelievably picturesque about this moment, so familiar yet unsettling. You spent so much time travelling with Astarion across areas like this. You, him and dirt roads from dawn to dusk, but this isn’t the same man from your memories - is it? It’s getting increasingly more challenging to be mindful that Astarion may look and act, well sometimes act, like the same person you knew, but he isn’t.

He no longer becomes shy when you ask him for a kiss; gone are the awkward hugs, the way he used to mutter to himself to test what he was about to say, and the way his eyes would dart away when he said something sweet.

Now, he’s prone to blacked-out fits of violent, deadly rage and can let you burn in the sun at any moment should he choose, force himself into your mind, and take away your agency with a thought. He can turn himself into a bat, mist, and who knows what else. He said he felt his powers growing, and you have a feeling you haven’t seen the full extent of what he can do.

How many people has he killed in his blackouts? How many people has he compelled? Has he compelled you? You have yet to see other spawn, but who knows what he’s hiding.

Yet, you love him all the same - even with his demons, darkness and madness.

In these moments, when things start to feel too much like old times, you can’t help but mourn the man he was – a man you still miss.

I wonder what he would have thought of himself turning me into his spawn? 

Astarion reins his horse to a trot and guides the gelding into a dense thicket with a barely perceptible path. He twists in the saddle, “This way. It’s not far.”

The trees, smelling pleasantly of pine, are towering with thick trunks. A chorus of birdsongs flows like a river softly floating through the air. It’s easy to forget how beautiful nature can be. When was the last time you were out like this during the day?

After several minutes, the thick trees start to thin and give way to a pristine clearing with thick green grass carpeting the ground and a lake. The crystalline water looks as blue as the sky reflecting on its mirror-smooth surface.

“Here we are,” Astarion dismounts his horse. His feet land on the ground in silence; not even the snap of a twig can be heard or the crunch of his boots on the earth.

Your eyes scan the area with reverence. The colours are bright and vivid, as though painted and composed from an artist's rendering of a fairy tale. It’s been some time since you’ve seen anything of such beauty during the day. If you had breath to take away, this would surely confiscate it from your lungs. You pat the mare’s muscled neck, haul yourself up and hop off the saddle much less gracefully than Astarion.

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, “This way. Come.”

He takes your hand and leads you toward thick blankets, pillows, chilled wine, flowers, and candles in a stunning presentation.

“Astarion,” you gasp, below a whisper as you take in the scene, “Did you do this?”

“Yes.” Astarion slips behind you and puts his arms around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, “I thought you might want to get out of the manor for a day.”

You lean into him, “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I told you I can be romantic,” he quips with a boyish smile. His cardinal red eyes are set ablaze by the sun glinting off them, “You did not believe I was capable. Before you say it because I can see it on your pretty face, yes, little love, true feelings - they were a requirement, if I recall correctly.”

Do I ruin this moment by asking about what feelings?

I must know.

“What feelings, Astarion?”

Astarion kisses your temple and coos, “My feelings for you, of course. You said you were hungry earlier. I will go find you some food.”

He’s trying to retreat from the conversation.

“No, I’m fine,” you clutch his arm, afraid that if you let him go, you might awaken from this dream. “Stay, please?”

“Are you sure? It would not take me long, and I will be sure to stay close.”

“I’m sure, please.”

“As you wish,” Astarion removes his shirt and lays on the blanket, closing his eyes and basking in the sun. “If you change your mind, you have only but to ask. I do not like letting you go hungry.”

You sit beside him and grab the wine, uncork it and drink it straight from the bottle, disregarding the glass flutes.

He opens one eye momentarily and chuckles, “Hells, I see you’re still as boorish as ever.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle while giving him a playful shake, “You used to love my lack of decorum.”

When you used to love me, or at least, I thought you did.

Astarion takes the bottle from you and drinks straight from it with a wink, “Who says I don’t still love it, you delinquent.”

He hands the bottle back and lies back with his eyes closed. There’s something so tranquil about him like this. You can barely believe that just a day ago, he had his hands wrapped around your neck while he tore at your throat. It feels like a distant nightmare and makes you question if it really happened.

Your fingers trace the scabbed, coin-sized holes he marred your skin with as if to prove to yourself it was real. There’s always a dull, icy throbbing in your breast as if you’re heart believes it should be beating and is trying to rival its death. Some days, the pain is easily overlooked, but right now, it feels like someone is driving barbed shards of ice through your heart with a heavy hand and thundering strikes. Bringing your hand to your chest, you put pressure on it as if that might impede the malignancy.

You need a distraction, a physical sensation on your skin that you can focus on before you try to claw your heart out, “Are there any people around here?”

Astarion listens intently for a few seconds before shaking his head, “No, there’s no one around for miles. Why?”

You swallow your anguish and give him a devious grin, “Can I swim in that water?”

He probs himself up and grins, “It’s not running. You should be fine.”

“Excellent,” you giggle, taking another big drink and handing him the bottle.

You remove your clothes and wade in, disturbing and rippling the glassy surface. Diving into it, you let yourself sink to the murky bottom. The water is cold, even to you, and nips your skin like needlepoints being dragged across your flesh. The sunless silence is serene, and you consider letting it swallow you whole, but when you open your eyes toward the surface, you can see the silhouette of Astarion standing on the bank. Bending your knees, with a push, you propel yourself to the surface, to him, because that’s what you do – is it not? You always return to him, even at your detriment.

Astarion’s eyes you regardfully with nervous scrutiny, as if he had been afraid you may never come back.

“It’s cold,” you warn him.

“That’s really not a problem,” he chuckles, relaxing his expression once he’s assessed you’re safe. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

You arch a calculating brow at him, and he rolls his eyes, “Sweetheart, get your head out of the gutter. Gods, you’re a freak sometimes.”

“Another thing you used to love about me,” you snicker while walking up to him. “What would you like to show me?”

“Used to” hm? That’s another wildly inaccurate statement,” Astarion tsks while he takes your hand and places it on his warm skin with a soft exhale and a wince that makes you smirk your “I-told-you-so” look. Slowly, his body cools until he’s as cold as you.

Your brows furrow as you place your hand on random spots of him. Icy cold everywhere. “You can control your body temperature?”

“I can do a great many things,” he chuckles with a cunning lop-sided half smile twerking one corner of his lips up, “Interesting ability, although I have found little use for it until now.”

Before you can register what he’s doing, Astarion giggles mischievously, picks you up and throws you back into the lake as if he were throwing a pebble, removes his trousers and wades in with you.

“That was rude!” You glower at him playfully and tap your chin with your finger, “Retribution may be required. I might have to get your hair wet.”

“Don’t you dare!”

With a wicked grin, you start splashing him, and he lunges toward you. By the time he’s subdued you with his arms wrapped around yours, he’s drenched, including his hair, and you’re both laughing loudly.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he giggles. “Naughty thing.”

Laughing, you comb your fingers through his hair and muss it further, “Don’t worry, you still look earth-shatteringly dashing.”

Astarion brushes wet strands of your hair out of your eyes, “You’re a vision.” He purrs while pulling you close to him, guiding your legs around his waist.

His thumb traces your lower lip. When he takes your lips in his, the kiss is raw with emotion, demanding and primal. His finger puts gentle pressure on your chin, opening your mouth for him, and his tongue explores you with a longing groan.

Astarion abruptly breaks the kiss and stares off to the side, a million miles away. An almost startled confusion distorts his expression, which perplexes you. Have you made him uncomfortable somehow?

“Astarion,” you cradle his face with your palm, “What’s wrong?”

Astarion’s jaw clenches, and he swallows hard, making his Adam's apple bob. His eyes snap back to yours, a scarlet tempest of determination raging athwart his irises, “I think we need to talk.” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Please note - we may end up giving Tav a name. I've been agonizing over the idea for a while because it was something I never meant to do, but my resolve is weakening haha. If you're incredibly against the idea, please let me know.

I know my portrayal of A. Astarion is a softer version - I guess I have a weak spot for an Astarion that's all-powerful but still not completely cold and horribly abusive - although, he does have his moments.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Hiii I love your writing so much!! I was wondering if you can make a Lewis x reader where she has some type of chronic illness and one day she gets a really bad flare up and he takes care of her :)

If you’re not comfortable or don’t feel like writing it you can ignore this ask :)

Hi love, of course! I did a shortish one-shot

Btw, I chose eczema because my beautiful best friend has battled it a good chunk of her teen years and I'm so incredibly and forever proud of the amazing woman she's become, and how she continously lifts other people even when she doesn't have to . Love you H.

Warnings: description of eczema

______________________________________________________________

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky. In the serene twilight, Lewis Hamilton sat by the window, watching the Melbourne lights twinkle like distant stars. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming Japanese Grand Prix, the anticipation of this week off tingling in the air. But amidst the excitement, a sense of worry gnawed at him.

Beside him, you lay on the couch, curled up in discomfort. The gentle hum of the evening enveloped the room, but your soft whimpers cut through the tranquility. Lewis glanced at you, concern etched on his features.

"Are you okay, love?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You managed a weak nod, but the pain etched on your face betrayed your words. Lewis sighed softly, his heart heavy with concern. He knew all too well the toll your chronic illness took on you, especially during flare-ups.

Your eczema, a constant companion in your life, often made its presence known at the most inconvenient times. Lewis had witnessed the struggles you faced; the silent battles fought behind closed doors. Yet, through it all and much to your comfort, he remained steadfast by your side.

That night, however, your flare-up seemed particularly severe. Lewis could see the discomfort etched in every line of your face. Gently, he knelt beside you, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I'll take care of you, darling," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing melody in the dimly lit room.

Despite his assurances, you couldn't shake the feeling of shame that enveloped you. The raw, red patches on your legs, a stark reminder of your condition, made you feel vulnerable and exposed. The thought of facing the world, especially at the upcoming Grand Prix, filled you with dread.

Lewis sensed your inner turmoil – it was a place your mind tended to take you – his heart aching at the sight of your distress. With a tender smile, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "You don't have to hide, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance. "You're beautiful, just as you are."

Days passed, and the Japanese Grand Prix loomed ever closer. The excitement in the air was palpable, anticipation crackling like electricity. But amidst the flurry of preparations, you couldn't shake the lingering doubt if you should go at all. As the day of the race dawned, nerves fluttered in your stomach like a restless butterfly. The thought of facing the world, your eczema on full display, filled you with dread.

Regardless, you made your way to the track, the air alive with the roar of engines and the buzz of the crowd. Amidst the sea of faces, Lewis's support anchored you, a steady presence in the tumultuous sea of life.

The days following the Grand Prix went as usual. Another Mercedes bad weekend, the headlines filled with the dread of how they would bounce back, but amidst the bad press, a simple message on social media caught your eye, touching your heart in a profound way.

In a picture of you and Lewis, taken during the Grand Prix, was accompanied by a heartfelt caption.

"I've always been ashamed of my eczema, hiding it away from the world. But seeing [Your Name] embracing her skin and being open about her struggles gives me hope. Thank you for showing me that it's okay to be myself, flaws and all. 💖 #EczemaWarrior #TrueBeauty"

Tears welled in your eyes as you read the heartfelt words, the impact of your openness suddenly crashing you, the realization that your journey could inspire and empower others was almost overwhelming.

With a trembling hand, you liked the post and replied with a heartfelt message of your own. "Thank you for your beautiful words. You are strong and beautiful just as you are. Never be afraid to show it. 💖"

The outpouring of support and encouragement that followed was overwhelming, a testament to the power of authenticity and vulnerability. Messages from fans around the world flooded your notifications, each one echoing the hope you felt.

However, amidst the sea of positivity, a few photographers at the Grand Prix had been less than kind. Their whispered comments and mocking glances hadn't gone unnoticed, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

One evening, as you sat in Lewis’ lap in his home back in Monaco, he turned to you with a gentle expression, his eyes filled with concern.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine care and love reflected in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You don't have to talk about your eczema just because people are noticing it, you know. You owe them nothing" he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "I just want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I want to do this, Lew" you said, your voice steady with conviction. "I was the kid embarrassed of it, hiding it away from the world. Other kids need to know they have no reason to be ashamed. If sharing my story can help even one person feel less alone, it's worth it."

Lewis's eyes softened, a proud smile gracing his lips as he nodded in understanding. "You’re so brave, babe.” he whispered, pulling you close. "I’m forever proud of you”.

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑰𝑰

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - James deals with feelings, and you fall ill after hearing the rumours spread about you of the day before, leaving you under his care.》

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

As James sat in his office, surrounded by a sea of paperwork and reports, all waiting for his signature, he couldn't help but think about you. Despite the relentless pressure of the approaching deadline, you kept popping up in his mind like a persistent siren, demanding his attention. 

There was something about you that James found intriguing, something that made him want to get to know you better, to understand what it was that made him feel this way. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about you that kept drawing him in - a spark, perhaps, or a certain sparkle that shone through in everything you did.

Maybe James was hallucinating, maybe it was just the rays of the sun shining over you but even then, he had met many beautiful women throughout his life, but there was something about you that set you apart, a certain inner light that made you special and captivating. 

James had always felt like he was a passenger in his own life, watching the days and weeks and months go by with no real sense of purpose. He tried to go with the flow and make the best of what he had, but deep down he knew it wasn't enough. He longed for something deeper and more meaningful, but was too afraid to take the risk and step out of his comfort zone.

He was stuck in this limbo of uncertainty, unsure of what to do and who to be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted something more, something different, something like you.

He remembered how your eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the connection that he felt to you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. James' thoughts drifted off, lost in the memory of that day in the garden, feeling a twinge of regret for not pursuing things further. 

He wondered what could have been, if he had been braver and taken a chance on you and he couldn't help but smile to himself, imagining what could have been, but before he could fully indulge in his thoughts, he registered the clicking sound of heels approaching his door. With a groan of resignation, he prepared himself to entertain another one of Marge's ramblings. 

As the door opened, the noise of the crowded office poured in, threatening to disrupt the peace and quiet of his own space. With a deep sigh, he took a deep breath and listened.

“It’s your dad.” She says. 

"Hello?" He says, a big smile spreading across his face. "Dad!" He says, his voice overflowing with joy. "How are you?" He asks, his mind already racing with all the questions he has for his father. James listens intently as his father speaks, taking in every word and relishing in the sound of his voice. 

His father is always there for him, no matter what, and that feeling of connection and security is indescribable. Even now, when he is older and wiser, James can't help but feel grateful for his father's constant love and support, and he knows that he's lucky to have someone who has been such a guiding force in his life. 

And so James decides to share his moment with you with his father, feeling a sense of relief as he does so.

The moment his son is done talking, Fleamont turns to his wife, full knowing she will be very interested in what he’s about to say. “What is it, Fleamont? Is he alright?”

"I think James fancies someone." he whispers, looking at her in disbelief. Euphemia's expression immediately softens and she breaks into a joyful grin. This was the first time Fleamont had witnessed his son developing a romantic interest, and it was a sight to behold.

Yes, James has had intimate relationships with women before but even though James didn’t admit to feeling something for this girl. Fleamont knew better, he can’t recall a time in his life where James had described someone in such a picturesque way.

"She's like a sunrise on a cold winter morning - she just lights up the whole room. Though very direct and sharp, definitely not someone you'd want to go head to head with."

"Ever smelled Jasmines before? Bloody irresistible. It's like she's walking around with a bouquets of them,"

Euphemia, not one to be kept out of the loop when it comes to her son's love life, immediately grabbed her phone and began to pester Sirius for information. She was eager to know who this girl was and how long James had been keeping her a secret. She knew that James held a special place in his heart for Sirius, the raven-haired boy who had been a constant presence in his life and was a brother to him and a son to her. 

She was sure that if James were to confide in anyone about his romantic interests, it would be with Sirius. So you could imagine Euphemia’s surprise  when she found out that Sirius was just as clueless as she was. Who was this girl that had caught James' attention? She wondered.

However, on the other side, James was completely oblivious to the fact that his previous actions would have an impact on your life. He never considered the consequences of his gestures, which would rather sooner than later turn your world upside down, leaving you to get burned and pick up the pieces.

The next day, you tried to downplay the whole thing when your friends had asked about him. They had seen the flowers and had immediately assumed that something more was going on between you. You had spent the better hour of an afternoon denying they were nothing more than that, Flowers.

They grilled you for hours, probing for any “juicy” detail they could get, and you truly did your best to avoid the topic. They continued to pester you about the man who butted himself into your life and you couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation.

In the end, you were left feeling exhausted and vulnerable, as though your personal boundaries had been completely trampled on by the curiosity of your friends. Your feelings towards James were a complex web of emotions, neither good nor bad, neither right nor wrong. 

James was a charming and charismatic man, and so it was natural to feel a deep and intense attraction towards him, but at the same time, there was a sense of apprehension, a feeling of uncertainty that you couldn't quite shake. Your friends' incessant questioning only served to inflame that feeling of confusion and frustration.

And for some inexplicable reason, it felt as though James was a deeply private matter, and one that you, yourself, didn’t quite understand and would only be revealed on your own terms, when you were ready.

It felt as if they were pressuring you to make sense of something that wasn’t really there. So, you did the only thing you could think of - you changed the subject, or else found a way to distract them long enough for the topic to be forgotten. 

The day after, when you walk into the kitchen, ready to start your shift, you can feel the tension in the air. There's an awkward silence when you enter the kitchen. You keep catching your colleagues exchanging looks and whispering to each other, but no one seems to want to talk to you and dismissive when you try to start a conversation.

No one speaks to you.

They avoid your eyes and whisper to each other in hushed tones. You try to break the silence with a cheerful, "Hey, good morning," but no one responds.

All they do is mutter and shoot you dirty looks and it may be the dramatic side of your brain talking but it almost felt like the whole world was against you, and you don't know what you did. 

You move towards Tina, who was one the first people you met when you first started and as such you considered her a dear friend. She’s standing over the cutting board, busily preparing carrots.Her hair is pulled up in it’s usual tight bun.  "Hey,," you call out quietly, hoping to avoid the attention of others, "Do you have a minute?" She looks up at you, her eyes cold. 

"I’m busy." she replies, her tone sharper and more clipped than the pins used to keep her hair in place.. Your heart sinks, and you try to ignore the disappointment rising within you. Trying to keep your head down and do your work, but it's difficult to focus when everyone around you seems to be avoiding you like the plague.

It's like you're a ghost, invisible and repelling all forms of life.

You feel like you could scream. Why is everyone treating you like this? 

All you want is some answers, and it seems no one is willing to give them to you. Feeling desperate, you decide to approach a more level-headed colleague, Mary. You approach her and try to appear confident, even though you feel anything but. "Hey, Mary," you say, trying to sound casual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Mary turns to look at you, her eyes lighting up with kindness. "Of course, what's up?" She sends a soft smile at you, warm and welcoming a contrast to how everyone has been to you.

“Is it me, or does everyone seem a bit..closed off?” You try. And subconsciously take a step back when you see Mary’s smile falter for a second. Her brows furrow and it takes little convincing to pass off the look she gives you as pity. She looks at the rest of the crew who all seem to be eyeing her from the corner of their eyes, sending her warning glares like pariah’s eyeing their lunch. And in a fight or flight manner, you snap towards everyone with a glare, daring them to say something. Most go back to focusing on their own work, the minority left have the courage to look back at you and meet your stare. 

“Need help with something?” You offer. If your voice was once a warm fire that encouraged laughs and jokes then now it was an icicle, just as cold, just as sharp.

Mary's expression softens as she sees the concern in your eyes, when you turn back to her. She takes a deep breath and tries to maintain a calm demeanor, even as her own worries begin to surface. "It's not just you," she says softly. "I think–" Her eyes seemed to lock on something and you watched her bite her lips. “Come with me.” She says, her eyes boring into yours as she sends a heated glare to someone behind you.

You notice the tension in Mary's expression and you start to feel a pit forming in your stomach. Her tone is crisp, and you can tell that she has something urgent to say. You take a deep breath as you follow her out through the corridor, away from the others. Her pace is quick, and you almost struggle to keep up with her as she marches ahead. "What's going on, Mary?" you ask, feeling a sense of unease washing over you.

“Yesterday, Mr. Potter gave you flowers.” She says and your eyes widen in shock. How did she know that?  You wondered, it was definitely not the answer you had expected when you walked out here and when your lips parted so you could voice your thoughts, she spoke again, answering your question as though she read your mind.

“There are words going around,” she explained. “Some are saying you and Mr. Potter are…” Mary paused for a moment, “having affairs..” Her eyes are watching you carefully, as if searching for a reaction.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, and you look at Mary with a mix of emotions written all over your face. "Having affairs?" you scoff, your voice barely above a whisper. Mary pauses, her eyes locked on yours. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice soft and almost whispery. "They say that he favors you in an...intimate perspective." Her eyes seem to bore into yours with that, as though she's trying to see into the depths of your soul.

 A strange fusion of guilt and fear wash over you. You can't even imagine what it would be like to be intimate with Mr. Potter, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and you hold her gaze, trying to be as calm and composed as possible.

"That’s bullshit," you say breathlessly, it almost comes out like a silent whisper, "Nothing happened. The flower pot he gave me was a leftover from the stock bought to decorate the pool."

You feel yourself getting more and more agitated as Mary continues to talk. You don't know why, but the idea that people are talking about you and Mr. Potter, saying that you're having affairs? Who says “having affairs”?! and even…you can't even bring yourself to finish her sentence in your head. If word gets out about this, that dream of getting fired might just come true.

At that you start getting dizzy, your heart is beating faster and faster, and you feel like you're about to pass out. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. You tell yourself, trying to steady your shaking hands. In and out. In and out. You breathe in deeply, then let your breath out slowly, trying to calm yourself down. In and out. You don't even realize that you've started chanting those words to yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present moment.

"Mary, what are they saying?" you manage to say, your voice weak and hoarse. You know that they're talking about you, you can feel it. You can feel their eyes on you, their judgement weighing heavy on your shoulders. You’ve heard it once but you have to hear it again. It’s like your mind refuses to acknowledge this truth. You don’t want to believe this, you don’t even want to go anywhere near it, it’s like a nightmare. One you wish someone would wake you up from.

"What are they saying?" you repeat, this time a little louder, a little stronger. Mary squeezes your waist gently, as if to comfort you, and you hear her speak. "They're saying that you're having an affair with Mr. Potter," she says softly, as if it hurts even to say the words. 

So you heard it right.

You feel a cold chill run down your spine, and you're not sure if you can handle this. You're not sure if you can handle this. The shame, the embarrassment. W-what would your mother say if she heard about this? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It's not true," you say this time louder. "I-I mean -They're lying!"

“I know.” She says softly into your ear.

You try to steady yourself, but the world is spinning around you and you feel as if you're going to collapse. Your vision is blurred, and you can barely see anything in front of you. You struggle to take a deep breath, but you feel as if you're suffocating. Mary’s voice rings out in your ears. You feel her arms wrap around you to help keep you standing.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

You blink your eyes open, and you feel a sense of disorientation as you try to adjust to your situation.

You lie in silence for a moment, drinking in your surroundings. You notice the large and well-appointed room. It was a beautiful room, with ornate wood paneling and large windows that overlooked a beautiful landscape.

The sun was low and shining through the windows, casting a warm and inviting glow onto the room. The bed is made with crisp white sheets, and the AC hums quietly in the background, cooling the air to just the right temperature.

You take a deep breath, feeling your shoulders relax for the first time in ages. You start to wonder where you are, how you got here, and most importantly: who brought you here? You sit up slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the soft lighting in the room as your brain tries to catch up to what's going on.

You're brought back to reality by the feel of a hand on your shoulder, and you jump, startled. You turn to find Olivia, standing next to you, her face a mixture of concern and relief. "You're awake!" she exclaims, and you smile, feeling a sense of warmth settling over you. “What happened?” You asked, clutching your head to try and prevent the brewing headache threatening to occur.

"Are you alright? Do you remember anything?" Olivia's voice was soft, her voice calming. She squeezed your shoulder. "You're awake, which is good. You've been unconscious for a little while, you passed out. Mary caught you before you hit the ground and Anders told us to move you here." She spoke with a comforting tone, her hand rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “I should probably go and call for him.” She said, 

You blinked owlishly as Olivia quickly excused herself, her pace brisk as she left to go and call the butler. Just as she closed the door behind her, you heard a knock on the door, and you looked up to see Anders enter the room.

“Hey, um...where am I?” You asked, getting up and lying back on a bunch of huddled up pillows. "You're in one of the guestrooms," Anders replied. "Mr. Potter asked to relocate you here after he heard of your fall. I must say, it was quite disturbing to see you like that."

You felt a sense of embarrassment at the thought of fainting in front of everyone, "Thank you for uhm-..helping me," you said."It's no problem. We're just glad to have you back. Are you feeling better now?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice and unintentionally reminding you that everyone is still talking behind your back and your little fainting spell would be like trying to dow out a forest fire with gasoline.

“Just tired.” You responded, laying a hand on your forehead and closing your heavy eyelids; hyper aware of how soft the sheets are and the warmth of the duvet draped over you; a sense of peace settling in.

You hear a soft knock on the door, and you groan and yawn as you roll over to your side, stretching like a cat as you rub the sleep from your eyes. You couldn't help but feel the usual sense of tiredness as you slowly started to rise; your body feeling sluggish and tired. You looked at the clock and realized that you had slept again and this time for hours and it was already the evening. “Come in!” You say, eyes trained on the ticking clock as you jolt up.

In walks Mr. Potter, tray in hand and look of concern etched on his face. His eyes softened with a sheepish smile, "I've brought you some tea and toast—not much, I know, but it hopefully will help you feel better." He sets the tray down on the small table by the bed, his manner warm and comforting.

"Take a bite. It might lift your spirit," Mr. Potter suggests, his deep voice carrying a tone of genuine concern. He hands you the steaming mug, his eyes locked on yours, awaiting your answer. You take the mug less out of politeness and more out of fear.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need me to call a doctor?" 

Your words come out weak and hoarse, but you manage to get the message across. "No, I just... I feel dizzy, and my head hurts," you say, closing your eyes, hoping for the room to stop spinning.

He rushes to your side, helping you sit up, before gently stroking your hair back from your forehead, "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?" You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest as his hand brushes the hair away from your face. His cologne is strong and masculine, filling your nostrils with an addictive and sophisticated aroma.

Oh my God, stop it! You chastise yourself.

You sit up a bit, taking a sip of the tea and nibbling on the toast. The toast is warm and buttery, and the tea is soothing and calm. The warm brew soothes your throat and warms your insides, bringing a sense of calmness that you desperately need. 

James smiles back, "I'm glad to hear that. Would you like anything else? Some fruit maybe, or some more tea? I just want to make sure you're comfortable." 

"I’m good," you say, smiling awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Are you sure everything is alright, darling?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and of what he was going to ask. "Sure, of course," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He raises a brow, unconvinced with your answer.

"Just some work-related stress." 

James's gaze was focused on you, his face a picture of concern. "Well, if you ever do need anything, I'm here for you," he assured you, his voice soft and comforting. 

“Thank you, Mr–”

“James...please. Call me James.”

"Thanks, James," you replied, a small smile crossing your face. "That ...means a lot." James smiled back, "Of course," he said. The sound of the ticking clock abruptly shattered the stillness of the room, causing you to gasp as you suddenly remembered the passing of time. "Shoot!" you exclaimed, frantically throwing the quilt aside and hastily placing the tea on the nearby tray. "I've got to go!" you added, your voice laced with urgency.

James stood up, bewildered by the sudden change in your behavior. “Why? Is something wrong?” he asked, worry clearly etched on his face. “It’s eleven! Why didn’t you wake me?” you exclaimed, eyes wide with shock as you began frantically running around the room. Scrambling to find your shoes, James watched with wide-eyed confusion, asking, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

"It's eleven! Everything is probably already closed now!" you said, desperation and panic evident in your voice as you searched for your shoes. Suddenly, you noticed that James was holding them, and you immediately let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you so much." you said, taking them from him.

"Is Anders still here?" You asked as you hurriedly put your shoes on. The sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the sound of James taking a nervous step forward. “Uhm no, he usually leaves at ten,” James replied, his voice barely above a whisper. You sigh in defeat and throw yourself back on the bed. “Can I ask why?” he continued, taking another step closer, his eyes searching your face as you covered it with your hands. “I was going to ask him if he could give me a ride,” you answered, your voice muffled.

"I told Anders you could stay for the night." James stated, a slight edge to his voice as he backed up a step. You bolted upright, eyes widened in horror. "No!" you cried, your words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "No, no, no, no! I can't stay here. The others, they..." Your words trailed off, the image of their judgmental frowns dancing behind your closed eyelids, threatening to send you spiraling into a coma before you could even finish the thought.

Despite your protests, James stood firm, "You're staying here," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument. Taken aback by the suddenness of the force of his tone, you froze, your mind racing as you tried to guess at his intentions.

With a heavy sigh, James continued, his voice softer now as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I understand that this isn't ideal. But I promise you, you're safe here.”

"I- I’m fine," you stutter out, your voice barely louder than a whisper at his words, at the sweetness of it at the concern stretched between his eyebrows. James' brows furrow in discontent as he takes in your words, and for a moment there is a tense silence between you. But he quickly recovers, and his expression becomes determined.

"Then at least let me drive you home."

You are struck dumb by these words, and you don't move for a moment as you try to process what is happening. But before you have a chance to respond, you have given James your arm and you watch as he leads you rapidly towards the door. He's not waiting for an answer, he's making a decision for both of you.

And less than five minutes later, you find yourself standing outside, feeling the cold air brush against your skin. The night is quiet, truly silent. You can’t even hear the sound of traffic with how far you are from the town. You look up at the sky and at the stars, how they’re sprinkled like splattered paint over a black canvas. The sound of an engine in the distance breaks your trance and you look down squinting your eyes at the bright light shining from the car’s headlights.

The sleek black car glides into the driveway, its exhaust leaving a faint smell of fuel in the air. You watch as James climbs out of the driver's seat and walks up to you. He has his hands placed under both your arms, steadying you as though he was afraid you would roll down the stairs without his support. You mentally scoff, you maybe a klutz but even you won’t embarrass yourself to that degree.

He walks you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you. Your gaze is pulled back to the car itself, and you can't help but marvel at its beauty - probably at the cost of your entire apartment building itself. James seems to notice your fascination, and he gives you a small smile.

“It’s cold.” He whispers and you snort as you bow your head, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you enter the car and close the door behind you. The car's interior is warm and comfortable, and you sink into the soft leather seats with a sigh of relief. James enters, sending you the most adorable welcoming of smiles, as he pulls away from the extravagant driveway. You watch the streetlights fly by through the window, getting a sense of disorientation as the world around you blurs.

"Are you ok?" James asks, breaking the silence. His voice is low and concerned, and you can hear the worry in his words. You ask that alot you want to say but opt for a nod instead, not trusting yourself to speak, and he reaches across the car to pat your leg reassuringly, giving you a gentle squeeze. It's a small gesture, but it makes you feel a little better. You sit in silence as James drives, the only noise coming from the hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. 

The tension between you is palpable, and you wonder what James is thinking. Is he as nervous as you are? Is he trying to work out what to say to you?

James seems to sense your unease, and he breaks the silence with a sudden question. "So... What really happened today?" he asks, his voice low and curious. STOP asking! You want to yell, but you can’t really do that when the man is driving you home. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice wavered. "I found out about something and I just…" James nods at your silence, as if he understands. "I can understand that," he says, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Sometimes life can be a little overwhelming, can't it?" 

You watch him through the reflection on the window and nod, feeling a sense of thankfulness towards him for not pushing. "Yes, it can be. Sometimes it feels like everything is just a little too much."

"I know what you mean," James says softly. "But you need to remember you're not alone. That there’s someone there, y’know. And if you ever feel overwhelmed you can come to me." You pull your head away from the window and face James with parted lips. His eyes seemed to be just as shocked as you are as he stared at you. He quickly faces the road once more and pulls in a deep breath. 

“Thank you.” You say into the silence. It's a small comfort, but in that moment, it means the world to you.

Half an hour later, you find yourself pointing towards a building in the distance. The street is quiet and lifeless, with only a few distant lights to break the darkness as James parks the car in front of the tall building. You're not sure what to say, how to express the feelings that are swirling inside you. 

"Come on," he says, "Let's get you inside." You want to object but the warmth from the touch of his hands is addicting. It has you leaning on him as he leads you towards the building. “Do you want me to help you up?” He asks and you stare at him with furrowed brows, parted lips and eyes heavy with sleep. You nod and James doesn’t even hesitate to have his arms wrapped around you as he helps you up each step, patient and alert as he guides you up the stairs and carries your weight.

However, he seems awkward now that you're outside the door to your apartment, it’s silent, and there’s no other sound than the rattling of your keys as you turn them and unlock the lock. “Wait here.” You say, and James blinks for a moment in confusion, tilting his head to the side before nodding, watching as you walk in and leave him outside. He’s nervous and sweaty, and he reeks of anxiety as he bounces his leg, rehearsing what he’s trying to say. When your door opens once more, you’re in a robe and holding a small transparent box of what looks like doughnuts.

“A thank you.” You say and James involuntarily smiles at the gift, shaking his head. “Can’t take it,”

“Why not?” You ask and there is a dopey smile on your face as you lean against the door frame. “Don’t deserve it.” He says and you snort, rolling your eyes and you push the box between his hands. “If you don’t take it, you’re practically insulting me and I don't think you can be mean to someone who was sick.”

“You passed out, out of stress and not illness.” He says grinning and you feel butterflies fluttering or biting in your stomach as he leans a hand on the door, so that his face is much closer to yours. “Same thing. Take the doughnuts, Potter, and say ‘thank you’. It’s not that hard.” You respond, taking a step closer and matching his smile. 

James takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back of it, “Thank you.” He says and you immediately feel all hot and fluttery. It’s like you're wearing hundreds of layers of clothes on the hottest day of the year.

“You’re welcome.” You breathe out and even though the conversation is over, you both still stand there like birds on a traffic stop waiting for the other to say or do something.

For a moment, the silence is awkward, and you're not sure of what action to take. But then, James breaks it.

His voice is low and somewhat unsure, his previous confidence as solid as water as he stands tall once more; but he still speaks clearly and directly. You subconsciously stand straight as well, feeling as though this conversation was going to be serious.

"... I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I don't know why, but for some reason, I just am"

You listen intently, trying to process what he's saying. He leans down, placing the treats you gave him gently on the ground and You have no idea what's coming next, but then he surprises you by taking your hand in his. Your eyes grow wide and you can’t help but feel dumb and speechless as you stare at your joined hands. James looks at you, his expression serious and determined but there is a nervousness hiding behind his glasses. He takes a deep breath and then asks, "Would you go out with me?...On a date that is."

You're taken aback by the suddenness of the question, but you find yourself nodding slowly. "I'd like that." You can see the relief and happiness spread across James' face, and he gives you a warm smile. "I was hoping you'd say yes. You’re off on Tuesday’s, right? Can I pick you up from here at 6?" He asks and you nod again, feeling a sense of warmth and giddiness spread throughout your body. “That sounds great.” 

As James takes another step towards you, you start to feel a mixture of excitement and unease. You want to be close to him, you do, you really do, but you also feel like you're on the edge of a cliff, like one wrong move could send everything tumbling down. The looks of your colleagues flash in front of you, and you involuntarily take a step back.

James senses your apprehension, and he stops in his tracks. He looks at you with a mixture of concern and understanding, as if he knows exactly what you're feeling.

"Is something wrong?" he asks gently.

You try to gather your thoughts. "I don't know," you say, your voice a screen to your worries. "I just feel... I don't know. Like this is all too much and…too fast, like I may not be ready for this type of thing." You're suddenly aware of your rushed agreement to his proposal, and the butterflies that were once in your stomach turn to poisonous snakes.

James nods, "That's ok," he says quietly. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can take it slow, if that's what you want."

For a moment, there is silence between the two of you, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and possibility. And then, before you know it, James is closing the distance between you once again, his fingers brushing against yours, his face just inches away from yours. You think that he might kiss you and you're not sure of what you’re feeling but you’re sure of the desire, the craving for his touch but at the same time the logical part of you is yelling for you to pull away to warn you that this was going to burn you in the end.

It's a moment that feels like an eternity and a heartbeat all at once, and just when you think you can't possibly bear it any longer, James leans in and kisses your forehead. It's a soft, gentle kiss, filled with a mixture of hesitance and care, and for a moment, the stress you’ve been carrying the whole day seems to melt away.

As he draws apart, you feel a sense of relief and happiness wash over you, like drinking chilled water after you've just finished a marathon. 

“Feel better, okay?”

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