#but he'd never truly hurt crackle

[electricvinyls]

Fear and danger

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Merry Christmas, Darling

Word Count: 1,200 (Tiny for me, but I haven't written in almost a year so forgive me.)

Summary: Ominis is going to miss you over the holidays. || Ominis Gaunt x reader|| Hurt but with plenty of comfort.

Warnings: This is as fluffy as a good sweater.

In the eyes of Ominis Gaunt, Christmas was a complicated thing. He loved it. Truly. Though, he'd never actually had one until he was eleven years old - when Anne and Sebastian Sallow invited him to their uncle's cottage in Feldcroft. They asked him to be there, they told him all these stories about how muggles celebrate the holiday, and their modest Christmas dinner was the best thing he'd ever tasted. The whole house felt so warm.

And... 

They gave him gifts. 

No one had ever done that. 

He hadn't had anything for them that first time, but they told him that was alright. Of course, he had remedied his ignorance every year afterward and for three more blissful years, everything was perfect. 

Until fifth year, when Ominis' only Christmas gift was comforting Anne through her nightmares – frightful visions of a goblin disemboweling itself in front of her. And her brother's manic grin. 

Ominis was sixteen now, and Sebastian was gone. Anne was too. 

In all his time at school, he'd never gone home for winter break and he didn't intend to now. Even if he had nowhere to go instead. 

Because you were leaving him too. 

He'd be, once again, alone.

You'd be going home to your own family to spend Christmas surrounded by love and warmth. Not that he wasn't happy for you, he was! But you wouldn't be with him.  It wasn't your fault. You'd begged your parents to let him come along. 

But why, oh why, would they ever approve? How could they possibly want him – a Gaunt – in their household? 

"That family has a reputation, Y/N." They'd said.

Well, they were right. And he was bitter. And he was sad. And he just wanted to spend Christmas with you. Why was that too much to ask?

He heard you sigh next to him. The sound brought him back to reality. You hadn't left for home yet. You'd leave in the morning. For now, however, you were curled up against him on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room. The flames crackled and roared and he so adored the scent of pine and applewood burning. You hadn’t left him yet. He could still feel you. 

Your cheek against his shoulder. Your hand in his. You smelled like peppermint.

“I wish you could come with me,” You whispered. And you didn’t say you wished you could stay. Because you loved your family and he was so happy that you did. He wished he had the same luxury.

“As do I,” He said. He tried to smile.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I hope you will.” He knew he’d miss you so much more. 

He felt you shift, resting your forehead against his arm now, stroking from his forearm to his hand. You drew in a breath.

“Greeting cards have all been sent… the Christmas rush is through. But I still have one wish to make, a special one for you.” The tune was slow and you sang it so softly. He’d be the only one in the common room to hear it. You didn’t have the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard, but in that moment, you sounded like an angel. Ominis squeezed your hand tighter. 

“Merry Christmas, darling. We're apart, that's true. But I can dream, and in my dreams, I'm Christmas-ing with you.”

“That’s a very nice thought.” He interrupted, unable to stop a smile from tugging at the corner of his lips. You laughed and kept singing. 

“Holidays are joyful. There's always something new. But every day's a holiday. When I'm near to you.” He ducked his head and blushed, and not just a little bit. See, you were one of those people who never said a word you didn’t mean - unlike him. You were always so sincere. 

“Oh, how flattering.”

You kissed the back of his hand.

“The lights on my tree, I wish you could see. I wish it every day.”

“Why would I need them when I have you?” He murmured. As if you weren’t doing enough, you leaned in to kiss his cheek. You were warm. You’d take your warmth with you.

“Logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you Merry Christmas. Happy New Year too. I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve. I wish I were with you.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, grabbed your soft, warm hands, and pulled you up against him. You were wearing his sweater. It was far too big for you so he had to go searching for your hands in its sleeves, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. One arm around your waist, yours around his neck, your hand in his. 

“Dance with me?” He breathed. “Just once more… before you go.” 

And sure, you wouldn’t be leaving him forever. But it would feel like longer.

You laughed that sweet laugh of yours and he knew that if he could bottle the atmosphere around them, that emotion on his tongue would keep him warm through the winter. He held you tighter, trying to memorize every inch, every layer of your scent. There was peppermint, and cinnamon, chocolate, and pine. He loved it all. You smelled like the only home he had left. When you were gone, your scent was all he’d have of you. Your family was poor as dirt. Ominis didn’t care, but your parents wouldn’t allow you any money to spend on him of all people. You were the only gift he wanted now anyway. Your presence alone was too much to ask, yet you gave it so willingly.

“Logs on the fire fill me with desire to see you and to say that I wish you a Merry Christmas. Happy New Year too. I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve, I wish I were with you.” You stood up on your tip-toes to whisper to him. Your hand found its way into his hair. “I wish I were with you.”

His breath hitched and what was a dance collapsed into a longing embrace. He held you as tight as he could, burying his face in your shoulder. Though he wasn’t one to be so cavalier with expressions of emotion, he couldn’t help but dip his head to nip at your collarbone. The mark he knew he’d leave wasn’t for him. He just… didn’t want you to forget, was all. And he had to leave more kisses - a trail of them along your perfectly smooth throat. He hoped the taste of your skin would keep his cheeks burning through the January freeze.

You were the one to kiss his lips. When you pulled away, you placed your hands on his cheeks and rubbed your nose against his.

“Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas…” You whispered. 

He sighed.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

That sweater of his that you were wearing… after wishing you farewell at the train station, he’d find it folded on his bed when he got back. It smelled like you. A note in Braile accompanied it. 

“To keep you warm until I return. Wear it. (I cast a preservation charm on it this morning.)”

He did wear it. And your scent on the wool didn’t fade until you returned and tugged it off him.

This fic is dedicated to @witchcraftandgeekness for telling me to f#ck everybody. Not in the sexy way.

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 8 | Reflection

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: Hey sinners x) this is a LONG one. I wrote my heart out. Definitely, some Stockholm happening in this chapter…ENJOY;*

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

Tav’s footsteps echoed through the stone walls as she approached the doors of the Szaar palace. Tav appreciated sharing a home with Astarion, but these walls held so many centuries of trauma...You could feel the unease in the air.

Upon entering, the only sound that greeted her was the crackling of the fireplace in the background and the flickering light across the room.

Her voice settled in her throat, looking around for Astarion, but nothing. It was as if no one was home.

Maybe Astarion wasn't home.

Tav gently took hold of her hair, guiding it over her shoulder, combing her locs over and over to self-soothe herself. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything weird.

Everything seemed fine...

Tav took a few steps into the hallway staring down at her feet until that uneasy feeling like she was being watched crept on her. Tav's ears perked up and she saw Astarion standing at the end of the long hall.

He stood tall, emotionless apart from the dried tear streaks covering his cheeks. Red bore into Tav's eyes, sending a cold sweat down her spine. His glare was angry, but his face was a void of any emotion.

Tav's eyes dilated, batting her eyelashes in an attempt to think of...something to say.

Then, the guilt twisted in her stomach when her eyes caught a glimpse of the fresh cut on his cheek. She never meant to hurt him. It was like an animalistic being, deep in her lashed out, literally.

Her lips parted, attempting to speak before Astarion cut right threw her unspoken words.

His chest heavily rose and fell as he uttered her name in a tone devoid of any feeling, “Natavia.”

She flinched at the sound of her full name.

He never called her that. The pit of her stomach knotted and she knew whatever came out his mouth next was serious.

He lifted his chin slightly, staring down at her like she was his prey. "Come here."

Tav stood frozen, unsure of how to proceed as Astarion commanded her to come closer with a sharpness that cut through the silence like a blade.

His sharp tone cut through the silence once more, demanding her with a stern, “Now.” His eyes narrowed even further, oh if looks could kill.

With glossy eyes, she tentatively approached him, her hands fidgeting nervously threw her hair.

Astarion took a deep breath, visibly struggling between anger and sadness. Tav’s gaze drifted to the deep cut, and then to the glisten of old tears on his cheeks.

Was he actually crying for me...?

The gap closed between them in an uncomfortable silence. And when their eyes locked, she saw a storm of conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes.

Anger.

Sadness.

Resentment.

Love?

She reached out her hand to touch his cut, but Astarion instantly grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a tight embrace. He clutched onto her like he'd never held anyone before.

Has he ever held someone like this before?

No.

Just Tav.

Her body was like a bug caught in honey. Unknowingly, he was squeezing her flesh tightly into his hands, his nails digging into her skin.

Tav winced and squirmed under his hold, but he kept her knit in place, fighting against her struggles to keep her close. Scared of her running away from him again.

ASTARION’S POV

He didn’t know why it hurt him so much.

He loved being alone.

But that's how he knew it was different. Because he regretted pushing Tav away earlier.

It was all he ever knew until Tav came into his life, and when Astarion felt a glimmer of that go away;

It was like a stake to the heart, and the consequences of his actions only twisted it further.

Astarion’s vision began to blur, and the walls around him seemed to close in.

Why does it hurt so fucking much?

Mentally, emotionally, physically. Love was too complex for Astarion to understand. He only knew how it felt, but why?

Navigating through emotions was bad enough. He didn’t even know what the hell he was even feeling.

Amid his reeling mind, there was a spark.

Deep in his mind, there was a memory carefully hidden away, to shield him from past traumas.

A memory of Cazador, gripping Astarion much like he held Tav - with a tightness that bordered on possessiveness.  Cazador’s face twisted with control as he dug his nails into Astarion’s flesh, issuing a stern warning never to defy him and emphasizing that his watchful gaze would always linger.

That memory…It was a repeated cycle.

His mind played tricks on him, as if Cazador was there, laughing at him from between the shadows. The taunting echoes of Cazador’s voice rang in his ears.

He knew.

Cazador.

Cazador always knew when Astarion was suffering, and even in death those taunting memories still haunted him so deeply.

Astarion gritted his teeth, burying Tav between his arms as he stared out behind her. The empty hallway was still, but his reality distorted into something much darker.

A hallucination.

For a moment he swore he could see Cazador, standing there with a malicious smile on his face, dripping in his own blood.

The stab marks that Astarion inflicted on him were oozing blood in a grotesque scene and this image burned into Astarion's memory.

It felt so real.

He was there.

Laughing at me.

It was as if Cazador was relishing in Astarion’s fear of loneliness.

The sound of Cazador’s laughter grew louder in his ears, filling the room with a sinister echo. The drops of blood fell from his body and puddled on the carpet.

Astarion clenched his jaw, enfolding Tav protectively within his embrace as he peered past her into nothingness, "No - You're not real!"

The rattle in his dead chest trapped him back into a state he hadn't felt since being Cazador's slave.

Astarion continued to stare out into the empty hall. Only in his mind could he see Cazador taunting him. His breathing became rapid and his tears were histarical. Tav trembled under his hold by the fear in his eyes.

She didn't know what the hell was happening.

Didn't understand what he was seeing.

Tav struggling against Astarion's hold, clutching onto his shirt, "A-Astarion?! What the hell are you talking about." Her voice cracked with concern, hurt, and confusion.

The hallucination tilted their head eerily, whispering devilishly, "You will never be more than what I made you."

"Dirt."

A single word escaped Astarion's lips, barely audible then growing louder with each repetition. “No,” he whispered to himself over and over.

Tears welled up in his eyes, tracing fiery paths down his cheeks. The trauma of being alone ate at him. Tav leaving him after their fight only triggered past feelings of Cazador. It scared him for Tav to leave, even if he pushed her to do it.

And then it hit him.

 I laid bare to the depths of my own vulnerability.

"I killed you!" Ripped from Astarion's lungs.

Astarion dug deeper into Tav's skin and she cried out, "Ahh! Y-You're hurting me!" Tav fought to look back behind her to see who he was yelling at.

But there was no one.

Tav turned her head back to him, her heart squeezing at the fear in his eyes. She wiggled her arms up to cup his face, her hands shaking from his panic attack, "Shhh...Star.."

Astarion hyperventilating, still looking straight forward in front of him with dilated pupils.

And then, the warmth of hands on his cheeks. The touch startled him and felt like protection from this evil hallucination.

Tav’s fingers traced the lines of his cheekbones, and Astarion trembled. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. It felt like a lifeline in the darkness that surrounded him.

The warmth seeped into his skin and felt like a protective barrier against the cold emptiness that usually consumed him.

Like old times.

Is that a bad thing...?

Tav’s touch lingered on his face, Astarion felt something stir within him that he had long forgotten - a flicker of emotion that he dared not name. It was a feeling so foreign yet so achingly familiar, like a long-lost memory resurfacing from the depths of his mind.

Something he neglected to tell Tav.

I love you.

The way Tav’s hands cradled his face with such care and gentleness made Astarion’s unbeating heart skip a beat. It was as if her touch was weaving a spell around him, softening the hardened walls he had built around himself, especially after ascending.

In that fleeting moment, it felt like love - pure and unadulterated.

Tav slowly sank down onto the floor with him, sighing in relief as his nails loosened from her skin, "There's no one there...I'm here now."

His shoulders bounced to the sobs that pressed into her neck. He felt safe, and this 'Ascended Vampire' act fell apart in the moment. Clearly there was still so much unresolved truama that still ate at him.

Even if he didn't want to admit it to himself, Tav was his crutch.

And I was treating her with such disregard.

Why do I do this to myself?

A fear was instilled in him.

That Tav will see me in the way I see myself.

Self sabotage was Astarion's biggest downfall and the only person telling him that was Tav. He didn't want to lose her, not now.

He cried into her shoulder, and Tav wrapped her arms around him. Waiting for his panic attack to subside as his sobs broke her heart into millions of pieces.

He could feel her breathing hitch in hurt and it made him feel so weak.

END POV

She reached out her hand to touch his cut, but Astarion instantly grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the softness of her inner palm. Tav's eyes narrowed to his actions and he tried to calm himself down, for her sake.

Softly with hurt, he spoke, "Don't ever leave me again."

Tav lifted an eyebrow and silently shook her head with confusion, "But you told me to -"

"I don't care what I said." He snapped.

Quickly he took his voice back down, correcting himself. "I...didn't mean it." He ran his fingers over Tav's knuckles, "I....don't know what I meant."

Eating his pride was something Tav knew was hard for him. And he was actually doing it. She noticed the fever on Astarion's cheeks and the somber expression etched in his features.

They held each other in their arms, calming down and catching their breaths from the intense moment. The air around them felt heavy - uncomfortable. And when Tav felt Astarion's body grow relaxed she spoke,

"I'm so sorry for scratching you. I never felt uncontrollable before."

Astarion caught eyes with her and it panged deep in her chest, "And ruin this beautiful face? I'm not worried at all."

Ouch.

Tav flinched at his sarcasm, and she hovered her palm over his cheek. The spark of magic glowed over the cut. She picked up some simple healing spells from Halsin and was now using it on Astarion.

The healing magic kissed his skin, taking away the raw sting from his cheekbone, "There...Beautiful again." Tav sadly smiled with a shrug.

Astarion's breaths were still unsteady and both of them looked like a crying mess. Astarion clicked his tongue and held Tav by the shoulders. He peered closely at her face. In those white voided eyes.

"I've been harsh towards you, haven't I?"

Tav's eyes went wide for a moment. She trailed his features, trying to get a good read on him, "I-....Y-yes. You have."

Astarion nodded as if he was confirming something in his head.

And then those simple words that left his mouth so painstakingly hard, "I'm sorry...my love...my heart." He took her hand and placed it over his heart, sadness in his eyes, "You're right, I didn't respect your opinion as my consort."

"Not even when it came to picking fabric." He added between hesitation, trying to lighten the mood.

Blinded by the ambition to take it all; he abused the respect of his other half. To look down at his most beloved, most loyal, like a common spawn.

Tav was not a 'nobody',

not just another spawn,

She was his.

And anything his was not of little worth. Tav is an important integral part of Astarion. He made her what she is today, and vice versa.

Tav's hands balled up and she pulled away from his touch. Astarion's heart raced and he instantly felt the pit in his stomach.

"I can't keep quiet anymore." A sigh left her lips and she wiped away the tears left in her eyes.

Tav still had blood stained over her mouth, her hair tousled, and reddened eyes and cheeks. She was a mess, "I can't keep this in any longer."

Tell him the truth.

"I killed what was left of you that day..." Tav began, her voice tinged with remorse. "I helped you ascend because I couldn't say no when you looked at me with that face...When you begged me for help. I felt so - horrible for you. I wanted you to get your justice and every desire."

I was so wrong.

She whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "But the old Astarion is gone and I have to live with that, and for this, I'm s-so...sorry."

I am just as horrible as he is.

Tav gleamed at Astarion, their eyes locked in a dance of emotions too complex to name.

He was broken, unloved, and torn between his past self and who he had become. Astarion could see the burden in Tav's eyes and felt the guilt in her touch.

But he never had anything to call his own.

Not until now.

Astarion’s gaze held a mixture of gratitude and sorrow as he spoke, his voice soft yet carrying the weight of centuries. "Regret is a bitter companion, isn’t it? This cannot be undone, my love."

"You sought to help me rise, to grant me what you thought I desired most. I am thankful for it." Astarion continued, his voice tinged with an angered sadness. "The old, weak, Astarion may be gone, but his essence lingers in the shadows of my being."

He never let anyone see right threw him, except Tav.

Astarion leaned his head against Tav's forehead, connecting in a bittersweetness. "Let's not dwell on what once was, and forge a new path forward."

"Together," Astarion whispered.

"I was meant to be here with you. In these damned walls that hold my screams... What once was and what will be, my love...

If I am the villain of this story then so are you. Because I will always be there to protect us."

....

..

..

.

"Protect you."

Tav felt her world grow still, quiet. She helped create this mess and she had no choice but to live in her own chaos they created...maybe it was better to find peace within this chaos. To love Astarion for everything he is and has become.

Tav was never willing to let him go. She made up her mind already that he was hers forever, as did he. She wanted him forever.

Her little love she found at the crash sight so distantly ago.

Maybe it was time to accept.

His red eyes burned into Tav's ashen ones, whispering in an almost alluring tone, “Isn’t that what you want to hear?"

He reached out to grab her chin, nodding her chin up and down with his influence even before Tav could answer for herself, in a breathy tone, "Us - together side by side for eternity..." She could feel his breath hit her lips, "I know it is.”

Tav started to nod 'yes' without his influence, shallowly swallowing, "I want only you out of this world."

She added between his softened gaze on her, "I'll learn to love this new you, even if it pains me."

Astarion brought her frame back into his hold, hugging her with an urgency. "I'm glad you said that. Because I will never let you walk away from me again."

A promise he'll keep.

Tav slowly wrapped her arms around him, hesitant but willing. A sigh of relief left her lips and she finally felt the weight off her heart slowly disapate.

Love went deeper than logic, and maybe she wished to be possessed and wanted by Astarion. To feel a sense of security. His most favorite spawn. It made her feel oddly...special?

Softly, "Astarion?"

Still in her arms, "Yes?"

"It was Cazador wasn't it?...you saw something back there."

Tav felt Astarion stiffen under her hold, "Yes." was all he could muster up. Not that he needed to say anything more.

"He could never hurt you again, Star." Tav buried her head into Astarion's nape and planted a soft kiss on his skin, "I Love you."

Her voice cracked softly, "...so..much."

He believed it.

Tav cared so much for him, and he knew it.

Tav deserved something real and he was willing to accept he may have been treating her with such disregard, "You are the light in my eternal darkness."

A kiss on her forehead. Tender with an unexpected softness, "I love you too."

SOME TIME AFTER ~

Astarion carefully carried Tav to the tub, the warm water invitingly steaming as he helped her sink into its comforting embrace. The room was dimmed with the soft glow of a single candle.

As Astarion began to peel off his clothes, he couldn’t help but notice an odd scent emanating from Tav - a hint of sage that seemed out of place to him.

“That smell, it’s absolutely horrible, dear. It smells like sage,” Astarion remarked with a quirked eyebrow, his red eyes studying her with a frown.

Tav tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I must have brushed against some on my way here,” she replied softly.

Astarion shrugged it off. He never smelled such a scent on her before. She had to go in the woods somewhere near, it only made sense to him.

He undressed, stepped into the tub, and reached out for a cloth, gently wiping away the smudged blood stain on her chin, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone with his reputation. “You must be full of blood,” he commented curiously.

Tav's eyes fluttered closed, enjoying this rare moment of softness, “I fed on a hare earlier.”

Astarion clicked his tongue against his teeth, washing away the metallic smell, “I could see that.” He stared at the obvious flush in her face. It was something that always happened when fresh blood ran through her veins.

In return, Tav offered to wash Astarion’s back, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of scars that adorned his skin. A faint sigh escaped Astarion’s lips as he leaned into her touch, allowing himself a rare moment of vulnerability.

Within the comforting silence Astarion questioned Tav, “Where did you run off to?” he asked voided of any emotion.

Tav hesitated for a moment. “I needed some time alone outside the city walls,” she replied simply, leaving the rest unspoken between them.

Tav swallowed softly, gazing down at the scared skin. She didn't want to tell Astarion about Ross. She was scared and anxious. Not after what had just happened.

She shook off the thought...nothing happened between them anyway.

Tav was allowed to have friends...

Wasn't she?

At that moment, a secret desire stirred within Astarion – the longing to share his blood with her so she could walk freely in the sun. He had kept this a secret away from her, to keep her close to him by all means.

It was a power play to test Tav of her loyalty.

However, Astarion had a new desire to spoil his most beloved, and sharing just a drop of blood will grant her Metotopholese's gift. Of course Tav would still be a spawn, not a true vampire like himself.

Astarion slowly turned his gaze towards Tav, the gentle ripples of water caressing her skin as he drew closer. In the moment, a flicker of softness caught in their stares, his eyes like a sad puppy. It was filled with unspoken emotions and tenderness.

Tav gently tilted her head as she peered into his face. Her question hung in the air, “Is everything okay?” she spoke softly.

He didn't answer her question.

Instead, He pushed back the strands of dark locs to get a clear view of her neck. Astarion's hand fell over her flesh, the warmth of the water caressed Tav's nape as his hand rested on her neck.

His touch was gentle as his thumb traced the faded fang marks. The memories of them running off together at camp flooded back, it bittersweetly played like a movie reel in his mind.

A soft single chuckle huffed out his nose with a cracked smile. How Tav used to smile brighter back then.

That cheeky grin of hers.

Astarion gently pressed his lips against Tav’s cheek. He then brought his hand to his own mouth, using one of his fangs to delicately slice the tip of his finger, allowing a small bead of blood to form.

Tav's initial shock quickly turned into panic, "What the hell are you doing?!" She instinctively reached out to grab his hand, but Astarion was quicker. He brought his finger to her lips, brushing against them lightly despite her resistance.

“At the party…I told you I wanted to share something with you. Just trust me,” he affirmed sternly in a whisper as he smeared the slick of blood against Tav’s lips.

She hesitated for a moment before slowly opening her mouth, her eyes glossed in curiosity and nervousness. Her fingers automatically wrapped around his wrist as he slid his fingers into her mouth.

Tav's taste buds were greeted by the metallic flavor of blood, with an unexpected touch of sweetness. It was unlike any blood she had ever tasted before.

Her tongue sensually brushed his fingers, gliding over the fresh cut while obediently sucking. Astarion watched her with possessive eyes, a glint of satisfaction dancing in them while continuing to savor the taste of blood on his fingers.

Astarion pressed his finger deeper into her mouth, urging her jaw to widen to accommodate its size. His thumb tenderly brushed against the side of her cheek, causing her eyes to water over with submission.

There was an undeniable allure in degrading Tav that ignited a sense of power within Astarion. It stirred every fiber of his being, exhilarating him to no end.

And the best part about it - she'd let him.

Astarion wetted his lips while watching Tav gag on his fingers. With a satisfied glint on his features, Astarion pulled his fingers away. He hungrily bore into Tav's eyes, sucking the excess blood off his middle finger with a 'pop.'

Tav's face flushed with fever, taken off guard from his sudden advancements. She couldn't tell if this was a good deed or if there was a trick to it...

“It shouldn’t take too long to run through your veins,” Astarion murmured, his voice low and hypnotic.

Tav shifted uncomfortably in the warm water, a flicker of unease crossing her features. “You’re kinda freaking me out,” eyeing Astarion warily.

Astarion chuckled softly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “No need to be afraid, my treasure,” he reassured, reaching out a hand toward Tav. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Tav hesitated for a moment before reluctantly extending her own hand towards Astarion’s outstretched palm. “Now be a good pup and heal this,” Astarion whispered, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly gaze.

“Yes, love…” Tav replied uncertainly.

The flesh glowed between their skin with magic. The soft light touched his skin back to normal.

In the midst of healing, Tav felt a sudden fiery sensation coursing through her, a euphoric feeling that tingled her skin and momentarily hazed her vision.

A voice broke through the sensation, "My dear - Do you feel it yet?"

What's happening?

Tav's body went still for a moment, her eyes darting around the room in confusion and awe. The world around her seemed to shift and everything became hyper-focused, she became acutely aware of her surroundings.

It's freaking me the fuck out.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly with panic, struggling to comprehend the overwhelming sensations clawing at her.

Astarion gently held her by the shoulders and whispered reassuringly, "There, there... let it take its course."

she nodded, between panicked breaths, Just as her lips were about to speak she looked down at the water. And there it was.

My reflection.

Tav’s heart leaped in her chest, causing her to jump back in surprise, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at Astarion with wide, glossy eyes. “How… My reflection!”

She couldn’t help but admire the sight of those pale eyes she had missed seeing for so long. Her fingers gently grazed her cheeks, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

A sudden realization dawned on her, and she whispered to herself in a gasp, “Oh! That means…”

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice broke Tav out of her trance. Without a second thought, Tav booked it.

With a splash, Tav scrambled out of the tub, quickly, tripping over herself in the rush of the moment.

Astarion sighed out loud, shaking his head with an exacerbated chuckle. But his ears perked up when he heard a nearby door slam.

She was completely naked.

He knew exactly what she wanted to see.

The sun.

Near their biggest window.

Astarion's eyes went wide,

"....For fucks sake!"

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Okay— admitingly I’m still educating myself about ascended Astarion, and things in this fic aren't always game canon. Again, this is a fic and it’s totally made up.. ^^

Ahh, an emotional rollercoaster, and some comedic relief at the end there. Expect some fluff and mending of Tav and Astarion's bond ^^ they deserve some personal time together. We'll get back to some drama soon after...see ya next week!

[starry-eyed-wild-child]

Hi! Could I request an angst oneshot about Kit Walker in Briarcliff please? :)

ahhhh of course honey, kit's an absolute sweetheart and i adore him so much honestly 🧡💛

a/n: so sorry this took so long for me to post lmao, sorry it's so short as well, I don't usually write this little :(

🌻 you said you'd never leave 🌻

kit walker x reader

summary: you meet kit at briarcliff, the two of you fall madly in love with what you think is going to be the fairytale ending you've always dreamed of but life had other plans for you

warnings: mentions of torture at briarcliff but that's about it tbh

i'm free from your spell,

and now that it's all over,

all that I can do is wish you well,

~ 'the thrill is gone by b.b king' ~

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

you were beginning to lose all hope; truly. you never were one to be pessimistic. though more days where you failed to feel the sun on your face again, or the rain kiss your cheeks, you knew your life may have ended then and there. some people just weren't meant to get lucky.

you sat alone. like you always did. you preferred it that way. it seemed as though others in the asylum were scared of you. the rumours that you chopped up your family in the kitchen of your family home spread like wildfire. funny, you pondered. that the atrocities of people in this pit of hell based first impressions of you upon assumptions they convinced themselves was reality. you didn't mind. you never did. not really.

you remember meeting him; the memory exploded in your mind like fireworks, bleeding crepuscular colours over the blank canvas of the dull ache the asylum reduced you to. for the first time in two years, you no longer felt lonesome. the steady aching of your heart longed for him. to touch him. to feel him. to love him. kit walker was undeniably the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. you think, now looking back, that's why it hurt as much as it did.

you remember it well. that incessant song replaying over and over in your mind. though you'd learnt to drown it out. the music was loud but your thoughts were louder. he came and sat across from you. his eyes pouring into yours, the darkened hues warm and inviting. you swore then and there that you'd drown in them and die happy. your heart thudded. loud, beating. had he heard it not? he most definitely did.

"the name's kit." he smiled. his smile, like his gaze, was warm. soft and sweet, too pure for a place like this. his voice dripped like honey, sweetening your mood. you were convinced he'd give you toothaches with a voice like that.

"y/n" your hands stayed placed in your lap, back straight. your eyes fixated on him. the look of innocent adoration ignited the fire crackling deep within kit's stomach. in some way, he felt guilty. he was married.

"i've heard about you." the words flower with ease. you maintained eye contact. you dared not look away; not once. kit shifted in his place across from you, avoiding looking at your eyes. he felt vulnerable. the dullness evident in your irises, broken and bruised. though he dared not ask.

these weren't the first words kit wished to hear. who hadn't heard about him? the grotesque image that had been painted about him sat heavy in his stomach, the nausea swarmed him like waves. though unlike those crashing against shores, these waves are violent. unpleasant.

"funny," kit responded, desperate to shift conversation away from him. "i don't think I've heard about you."

you cocked your head to the side, eyebrow raised in amusement. he's changing the subject. that much you knew. and you let him; he'd open up when he was ready. they always do.

he continued. "i definitely would've remembered if i had."

he smiled.

there it was. that's what got you.

those perfectly crafted lines on his cheeks as he smiled. basking in the pearly whites that he offered you. through the mediocre attempt at flirting you could see it. pain, guilt, innocence. all the emotions you could envision all at once. you understood him. though you needn't want to pry, you couldn't help the subtle curiosity about him that spiked the more you two got to know each other. you relished in those moments. cherished them. and for the first time, you felt hopeful again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"kiss me." he said it so innocently, looking down at you with heavy lids, sultry and desperate. longing for any human connection he could conjure. kit clawed at your shoulders, caressing your hands with such a delicate touch that would make angels weep with envy. you stared up at him from the place he remained between your legs, tracing his jaw with your finger, moving them to his lips. your heart ached for him, as much he did you.

"we could get caught..." you hesitated. and for the first time, you appeared unsure of yourself. you wanted to, god how you wanted to. you couldn't fathom how desperate you were to feel his body pressed against yours, moulded together in perfect connection.

"i'd get caught a thousand times over if it meant kissing you just once."

you suppose it's what drew you to kit walker. his charismatic smile that had you melting on your own two feet. or perhaps it was the way he cradled you so gently. or even when he told you that he loved you. that when you were both free from this wretched place, he'd marry you and you'd be his and he'd be yours. you never were quite certain.

it was a colder night in november when you realised you loved him.

you guessed it was around six am. you were sat in your cell, consumed by your own thoughts and before you knew it you were being called for breakfast. it was the usual, eggs and a slice of toast. a small portion of berries for after if you were lucky enough. you often refuse it all together, the stale bread leaving an unpleasant aftertaste in your mouth. it was around seven am when you saw him. covered in bruises, bitter red droplets painted his lips. his eyes were dark and heavy, he hadn't slept at all. he offered you a timid smile as he sat across from you.

you'd been here before. you remembered it all too fondly.

"what have they done to you?" your voice was hoarse, like a whisper only kit could hear. your breathing was shaking, and you emitted the breath you were unaware you were holding. he merely sighed in response, looking down at the floor sheepishly, hesitant to meet your concerned stare.

"they caught us..."

it hit you.

he'd taken a beating for you. the scars on his back would be a constant reminder of the brutality he endured. and it was all for you. thirty maybe forty whips and lashes of pain to symbolise the undying love he held for you and you alone. your heart swelled in your chest, the blood pumped like a jolt of electricity igniting the passion deep inside you.

is this what it felt like? to be in love?

"we're gonna get outta here." kit had whispered so gently, like he always did. he embraced you with a strong grip, as though he seldom wished to let you go. you nodded in response. In desperation. wild thoughts ran through your mind, swarming your conscience. you were finally going to get out of here. after all these years. with the man you loved.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

alas, it was true what he had said. he promised freedom. it had been three days, six hours and forty-two minutes exactly since kit had escaped the asylum. three days, six hours and forty-two minutes since he'd left you. alone once more. his vow of freedom had become nothing but a web of broken promises, shattering your heart into grand shards and leaving you lost among the wreckage.

you'll be twenty-one tomorrow. you'll spend it alone. enclosed by these daunting walls, broken by the pain of your first love lost. you dreamt of him that night. those solitude nights spent with nothing but a blank mind became envisions of dark irises and dimpled cheeks. his voice rang like a bell in your ears, you remember it vividly.

"the name's kit."

though you let nothing but a single tear drip slowly down your cheek, watching as the droplet lay to rest on your knuckle.

like said prior, dear reader, some people, perhaps, never were destined to get lucky.

[little-worm-grant]

Steven's pov: Happy Simple Normal Life

1,153 words / Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Some lighthearted scatterbrained memories from the mind of Steven Grant and his formative years. Previously: Marc's pov: Behind Closed Doors (18+ hurt/not a necessary read)

Continued: Steven's pov: Oh Sausages (more comfort)

Tags: Childhood Memories, Comfort, Fluff, Developing Friendship

Corridors were quiet. Everyone else had gone outside for recess. Steven had spent all his free time hiding out in a classroom to read. He was a good boy, and knew how to fly under the radar. Teachers felt they could count on him to be left in a classroom unsupervised. They didn’t know what he was really up to.

Steven had only one other love besides books. The moment he knew the coast was clear, he’d take the teacher’s chair out from behind the desk and push it out the classroom. He'd use it to race down the hall as fast as he could. Hopping on at the very last second to try and see how far he could roll. Might've seemed silly to some, but Steven got the biggest thrill out of it.

Sometimes the chair would collide with the wall. Other times he’d not make it onto the seat and looked like a pretty sad sap on the floor with the chair wheeling away from him. He kept trying. Just a couple of tries each time before retreating back to class. He never wanted to push his luck and get caught.

First attempt was crap. Caught on a classroom door frame and bounced to the other wall rather than down the bleeding hall. Okay, Steven. Get it together. He returned back down one end. The wheels of the heavy chair crackled along the dirty floors. Determination in his eyes.

Catching his breath back he looked over the seat to plan his trajectory. The hallway seemed to close in on him. Long and narrow. His breathing came back to him in long steady breaths. One last try. Now or never Grant.

Kicking off with one push against the wall. Shoving the chair forward. Steven broke into a sprint. His hands gripped the arms tightly. Cheering himself on. Losing his breath he made the final move to jump up onto the seat.

One knee up. Using the other leg to push off the ground. Steering the speeding chair down the hallway. Passing doors and lockers faster than he thought was possible. Smooth sailing. Second knee up. He clung to the backrest of the seat and beamed.

For a single moment, Steven Grant was on top of the world. Fearless. He could do anything he set his mind to and-

“MISTER SPECTOR!”

The screech of a woman's voice startled him. Swiveling his head around to see who his teacher was yelling at. Only finding her horrified eyes dead set on him. Oh crud. Too caught up on being caught, he’d not been looking where he was going. The chair bounced off a wall causing the whole thing to go barreling out of control. The last thing little Steven remembered was his face about to kiss the floor.

"OH SHI-"

Nice one, plonker.

School trip to the aquarium. He’d remembered being so excited to go to this. Couldn't believe he was actually here, that'd come round fast. The place was pretty busy. Lot of people around in and between his peers while the teacher tried keeping them all wrangled together. Fat chance of that. Steven might have gotten a tad distracted watching one of those informational videos. Not hearing or noticing anything else around him while his eyes were zoned in on the screen. Deeply entrenched with a slew of facts about mantis shrimps. Those buggars could really pack a punch. He couldn't even imagine seeing more colors. Hadn’t noticed the group had left him behind until they were already gone.

That was one of the few times Steven had ever truly felt lost in childhood. Alone in a new location without any way to find or get in touch with his group. Maybe he should wait there until he got back. Going off wandering would only make it worse, he wasn't daft. Once they noticed surely they’d come back.

He paced, avoiding stepping into people’s ways, trying to go back to information screens to settle himself but it wasn’t the same blissful unawareness he’d had before. The pit in his stomach worsened with every minute that passed. He started to need the bathroom but worried he might get lost trying to find one or while getting back. Panic built up in his throat and made his eyes all glassy. Blinking back the tears the back of his hand came up to wipe.

That's when he caught his own reflection in the glass of one of the darker aquariums. Murky waters showed the reflection of another boy who looked far calmer than he felt. Arms down by his sides. Didn’t constantly have his hands up in front of him fiddling or flailing them around like Steven did.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi.” The voice responded.

Steven imagined he heard him say it back, like he was right there. But he couldn’t have. That would’ve been daft. Imaginary friends his dad would have reminded him. That's what he told himself too. He could have conversations with himself for hours sometimes.

“I’m scared.” Steven admitted out loud to himself. To the fishes. To his friend.

“I know.” The reflection moved when he did. Another short pace to get closer to the glass. The facial expressions were all wrong. Maybe not wrong was the right word, but different. Steven could swear he didn’t frown like that. The voice spoke again. “It’s going to be okay though. You know that. Take a deep breath. They're gonna come back.”

Steven did take that breath. Sharply in and slower out. Letting go of that pent-up feeling building in his chest. Felt less alone, even if it was his own reflection that eased him.

“Yeah… I hope so. Would be a bit of a bummer if I had to live here with the fishes.”

"Nahh- that wouldn't be so bad. That's right up your alley."

"It'd be bosting honestly. I'd be dead happy. I'd name every single one of 'em Gus. We'd have a right good time."

The voice chuckled and the reassurances worked. If only to settle Steven down enough to subdue the growing panic.

"You think they'll be back soon?"

"Course. I'll wait with you until they do. Tell me about what you've seen so far. Is it fun?" "Oh man you wouldn't believe it. So there's this shrimp, yeah?"

He talked and talked and talked. The reflection listened. Even Steven was smiling in the end. Someone eventually did come back for him. Found him in the same place they’d left him, chatting away with the fishes. Telling them all about his day. The teacher was firm but nice. One last glance to the glass. He caught only his own reflection looking back at him this time.

“Bye mate.” He waved to the fishes as he was guided back to the group.

Kept telling himself everything was going to be okay; because in the end, it always was.

[flowers-for-the-grave]

The Florist and The Curse

"Do you really want me to hit you again?" Jimmy asked, standing on the terracotta mound, as the grass bled into the mesa. His arm was on his hip, chin jutting out proudly, with his other hand resting at his his side holding the hilt of his sword.

"I mean, you only did, like, a heart and a half of damage," Scott said with a shrug. He wasn't scared of Jimmy, no matter what the Red Life tried. He knew Jimmy for what he had been and who he is now; a kind, loyal and energetic man with room in his heart for everyone yet no one at all. "After all that-"

"Do you really want me to hit you again?" Jimmy repeated, more sternly this time. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"-effort." Scott finished.

"You really want me to try again?" His voice grew deeper, slightly confused but remained firm and threatening.

"I mean, is your task to just hurt me? I'm so confused." Scott blurted out. "Also by shouting a weird catchphrase of 'the florist is gonna get me."'

"Yeah?" Grinning, Jimmy edged a little closer. There was a hazardous tone to his voice that set Scott's nerves on edge. He couldn't help it.

"You have thirty seconds."

The memory of the previous game left a bitter taste in his mouth. Obviously Martyn deserved the win. That was never in doubt. But being stabbed in the chest, then burned alive by his closest ally was not on Scott's bucket-list.

Nor was having Jimmy betray him like that. But, ah well.

He moved on.

Scott hadn't, cursed with too many memories and burdened with pain, blood and remembrance.

"Okay." Scott said. He gently tapped his heels against the horse's sides, urging it a little back. "I- is that your name, The Florist?"

"N- no? Dunno what you're talking about." Jimmy tilted his head like a puppy, his hair falling over his eyes. The usual honey brown was rimmed with bloody red.

"Oh, 'kay, okay." His horse moved further back, at his own insistence.

"Watch your back, Scott, alright? Watch your back." Jimmy warned.

Scott didn't stick around much longer after that.

---

He watched Lizzie fail to kill him. He knew it from the moment she tried to have him step up to the ledge; it was obvious from how her voice was pitched, the tone, the way her hands seemed to twitch urgently at her sides.

Scott hadn't thought she would fall. Maybe trip a little, get hit by an Enderman.

But not fall.

He heard the crackling of the lightning bolt and looked away as it struck at the empty Void, the space where Lizzie had fallen. In her memory and honour, Scott listened to the rolling boom of the thunder that followed.

Jimmy's curse was gone.

The Canary Curse was broken.

He felt something bubble in his throat, a hoarse laugh of joy and pain mixed together in a horridly lovely cocktail. He thought of how Jimmy would react to it. He thought of the shocked widening of his eyes and how his mouth would fall a little. He imagined the shocked huff of breath, pursued by hysteric giggles as he ran forth and proudly declared the curse gone.

Scott was happy for him, truly.

...He still had questions about the whole 'florist' thing, but at least Jimmy had lost his curse.

It was an odd feeling, when it happened. Scott looked fondly upon the last game because of the tether that had snapped when he'd died; the knowledge that the curse was broken, that he'd no longer have to live until all his allies and friends were gone, that the weight had finally been lifted, had relieved him.

He had laughed and smiled and actually felt happy for the first time in years.

Two curses down. Now to break the rest of them.

[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

Dont make me do this

Masterlist

Summary: The chosen one has fallen, disappearing into the dark, following sidious. And though it is your duty to end him you just cant, why? Why should you kill him when ll he had done was be human? He gave everything for the love of his life. And you would do the same, you abandoned him once, and you will not make that mistake again, even if it meant following him into the shadows.

Warnings: jedi bashing? Swearing, angst, poorly writen gore/graphic injury.

A/N: This is a purely self indulgent fic based around unrequited/hidden love and HE DIDNT DESERVE THE FUCKING SUIT! All that precious little bean did was try to save his wife a baby 😭😭😭

"Obi wan, we have to do this" you pleaded quietly, trying not to let padme hear you from your position in the cock pit. Your eyes searched his desperately, praying he'd see reason and agree to help you. You couldnt do this alone. Your prayers were unanswered Instead you felt ice prickle in your veins. shuddering under the intense glare the jedi master sent you. Youd never seen him so... angry before

"This is madness! You are letting your feelings cloud you;" he scolded quickly wiping the rage from his face trying not to succumbto his own emptions and be called out as a hypocrite.

"Damn fucking right i am! I am letting it get in the way, because being fucking emotionless drove him away, drove him to this." you snapped back your own desperation driving you to a furious frustration.

"Thea please now is not the time for this;" obi-wan sighed once again trying to brush you off as he often did. As everyone did. But this time you refused to be ignored, this was too damn important. You leant over slamming both hands down on the console letting your force crackle ominously around you.

Obi-wan stiffened at the display of hot fury. Something he'd heard mace and yoda raise concern about in meetings, yet he'd never seen this for himself. It was unsettling to see you so riled up. For the first time in his life he saw somthing else in you. Something frightening.

"It is the only time for this! Obi-wan, Anakin has struggled all his life in the order. He feels much more then anyone i know. He doesn't feel sadness only devastation, not happiness but elation, never fondness but love. He always has. And he felt completely and utterly alone" obi-wan tried to argue, he opened his mouth wantingnto find the words to counter you. But he couldnt, you were right, Anakin sought out connections. He didnt mean to but he did, subconsciously he always needed to cling to something, someone.

And in pushing him away, setting clear boundaries between them in an effort to stop himself becoming a father figure to anakin he hadnt been there to stop this madness. He'd failed to curb anakins need for attachments. Perhaps if he had allowed anakin to latch onto him as the boy wanted, he wouldnt have unknowingly sought out sidious, or you or persued padme. He could have happily continued his path as a jedi along side his master.

"We did that, we isolated him. Or made himmfeel isolated. He felt like he couldnt come to us for help obi-wan. He thought we'd judge him, that we would abandon him."

"He was terrified that the one person he loves, the only person in the world he could truly be ungaurded around was about to be torn from him. He made mistakes but so did we..." you traild off slumping back against the wall of the ship feeling your own shame wash over you. The many times youd seen anakin not himself, but let him brush you off, telling you he was just tired or giving some other generic excuse. Should you have pressed him harder? Pushed for answers, made him snap at you and perhaps get the truth. Was that what he needed?

"He slaughtered the younglings! He's become sith, and you want to pity him, you dont know what your asking!" Your self doubt was cut short as obi-wan growled in anguish. He was so torn, hurt by what had happened. Maye more so then you, he probably felt even more responsible for this then you did. He practically raised anakin. But no mtter how much this hurt him you were not about to let him take it out on you. No. He didnt get to do that, he wasnt the only person hurting, nd you werent about to become an emotional punching bag for him.

"I am asking you to fucking help me. I am asking you not to do this, dont fight him. He doesnt need an adversary. He needs help, he need us to accept him, to be honest with him and guide him" you snapped back watching with a tightening chest as obi-wan pulled back slightly. Before shaking his head scoffing at you, trying to calm his irritation. He spun away from you flicking a switch on the control panel before ducking his head pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Accept him? How. How can we accept this! How can you stand there and tell us we need to join him!" When he finally spoke again his voice rose quickly. You faltered not used to seei g anything but mild disapproval from him. Never had he bordered anger like this. You knew it was only natural, a mix of fear, disappointment and dread. He felt betrayed.

"Because thats what we need to do to fucking bring him back! I want to bring him back and we cant do that if we arnet beside him. For fuck sake this is the orders fault as much as it is sidious'... its our fault obi-wan. We ignored the signs, we... took Anakin for granted assumed he would cope alone so left him to his own devices" you managed to keep calm, trying to reason with obi-wan.

"We nurtured his turning by allowing his marriage to go undeteced we should have reported it;" obi-wan didnt get to finsh. You were narling in his face before he could move an inch.

"Dont you dare. DONT YOU DARE! Padme is the only reason he didnt fall sooner and you know it!" Your temper flared as you pointed in the direction of padme somewhere in the ship. Youd put up with a lot, but blaming padme because he couldnt stomach the thought of failing in his teachings was not one of them.

"And now look! He turned anyway! He fell Thea." He spoke quieter this time realising he may have begun to be unnecessarily harsh.

"Yeah he did. He fell right into the hands of sidious, because we couldnt catch him ourselves. Joining the dark side isnt the answer... even if we were just pretending so we can make him see the light, sidious would know." You offered once more, still trying to make obi-wan come around to your way of thinking. Surely it was better to try and save Anakin by nymeans then to just go and kill him? Didnt obi-wan love him enough to try?

"Im sorry but i have to do this. He has to see reason or..."

"Careful Obi-wan that almost sounded like an absolute." You hissed cruely making him snap his gaze to you. Eyes hardening as he took in your stnce, the way your force rippled around you sinisterly.

"Thea" he warned gently, trying to calm you and use that legendary charm he was famed for. But you sneered at him instead. All you could think was how easily the jedimaster was giving up, how he threw away his brother so quickly and would turn on him when there were other ways.

"You don even care how hypocritical you just sounded do you? The same old jedi double standard" Youd scoffed rolling your eyes, unable to The hypocrisy and intolerance wouldnt change.

"Please try to see things clearly" he almost pleaded, but unfortunately it was too late. Youd made your decision, and he had made his. All you could do now was watch things crumble around you.

"Oh trust me I do. i didnt before, but i finally understand. You dont see it. Do you? Its the order. Its poison. It's infected your mind like a sickness. They made sure the order means more to you then actual living breathing people." Your words began to twist, prod and slice at him but once you started you couldnt stop. Wouldnt stop.

"That no one in the galaxy should be more important or more powerfull then the jedi. Its funny really. The sith empire will rise again; more powerfull then last time and it was pssible because of the jedi orders hubris and even now the jedi are so blinded by their pride they refuse to admit it" your eyes locked with obi-wan's pwn pained gaze. He didnt respnd, you werent sure if it was because he was hurt by your words orif he thought this would blow over, that you were just throwing a tantrum. After a few more moments of silence he sighed, opeing his mouth to speak but it was too late.

"I dont want to hear it. Just know if you raise your saber, i will to." You anounced drawing a line in the sand before gettingnup, leaving the cockpit ignoring his calls to come back and talk this out. But there was no talking. No reconciliation. The time of the jedi had ended, the order was dead. and unfortunately obi-wan wasnt smart enough to admite defeat and abandon the sunken ship.

You watched from Inside the ship as anakin and obi-wan dueled across mustafar's boiling terrain. You yelled in fury obi-wan was cunning, after youd left him in the cockpitt to mull over your words he'd removed your acsess to the doors. And left with pad,e quickly making sure you were kept on the ship.

Your heart broke as the fight continued, eyes watering as two people you caredmfor deeply camemto blows in a brutal battle. Padme was unconscious on the floor by the ship. It had been frightening seeing first hand what anakin was capable of, what he was willing to do to those he belived betrayed him. A tiny part of you wanted to stay on the ship out of fear. You were scared he now thought you were a backstabber. That youd forsaken him as padme and obi-wan had.

No. no you couldnt allow it. You wont let him think so little of you.

"3-po! Quick we have to get padme, come on we have to help her" you pleaded motioning to the woman sprawled out on the floor. Your words drew the droids attention and suddenly he was stepping towards the back of the ship all the while continuing his usual anxious rambling.

As soon as the door was open you bolted, running past the droid full speed stopping beside padme checking her over. She was unconscious- maybe passed out? But not dead. Thankfully Anakin would never forgive himself or obi-wan if padme had died here like this.

"3-po you handle this, take her to the ship and look after her" you called over your shoulder to the droid ignoring the complaints from him.

You raced across the surface of mustafar unclipping your lightsaber as you climber a small burning dune of sand only to freeze at the scene. Obi-wan had anakin trapped, the former was being backed up to the flowing lava. They were yelling at one another, screaming. Anakin was meeting his master blow for blow but Obi-wan wasnt relenting or holding back instead he was leading anakin to the river. Anakin hadn't noticed, he was to angry, he wasnt paying attention.

You ran, jumping, leaping forward trying to close the distance between them before it was too late. Your anger spiked fueling you, urging you to go faster. Obi-wan was going to throw him in the lava. He wasnt going to kill him himself. He didnt have the guts to do it cleanly himself!

Obi-wan brought his saber down in a powerfull blow tipping Anakin off balance . And with that the chosen one began to fall.

"NO ANAKIN!" the scream tore from your throat in such a mournful bellow it hurt your vocal cords. Both men looked towards you startled by you. Your arrival destracted obi-wan enough for you to stretch out to the force as Anakin fell into the molten lava.

He screamed in excruciating pain as one arm, shoulder, leg and the side of his chest became burned but you yanked on him. Your force was quick enough to pull him from his fiery grave before it could engulf him. And it was strong enough to put some distance between him and obi wan. Anakin landed heavily out of harms way quivering, hissing and moaning as the pain of his wounds began settling.

Anakin was alive. He was alive. Thank the force youd got out of that ship.

You didnt stop. Even though Anakin was alive, you didnt stop your charge. No. Instead to ignited your own saber and jumped over Anakin before lunging at obi-wan.

"Wait what are you doing? You said youd help" obi-wan yelled raising his saber only just managing to block your own. He staggered back, unprepared for the power youd put behind the blow. He waited for you to pull back but you didnt. Instead you pushed on keeping your blade locked with his, digging your heals into the rock below you and using your weight to throw him back a few steps creating some distancebetween the two of you.

"I said id raise my saber if you do. I never said it'd be pointed at Anakin" you panted pointing your saber to him threateningly.

His eyes widened, realising you had intended to kill him. He glanced to the purple of your saber. He knew what it meant, had always known what it meant. You were comfortable useing the dark side if you had to. It was unspoken but purple sabers were somewhat feared in the order. It meant you had afinty for both light and dark. It meant you were a different kind of jedi. Strong, dangerous. Suddenly he felt sick, the beginings of dread and icey fear curling around him. It was as they had always feared. You were turning. Not just Anakin, you were going to the dark aswell.

"No. No! Thea dont do this! Dont follow him down this road" obi-wan pleaded lowering his saber shaking his head at you, hopeing, praying you will stop before its to late.

You widened your stance before casting a look over your shoulder to Anakin. As silly as it was you were uncomfortable with him behinde you. He was clearly stressed, angered beyond the point of reasoning. Your eyes locked with his and he frowned. He was trying to figure out if you were an ally in this or not. You nodded subtly to him.

"Youll be okay Anakin. I'll help you with your wounds i promise just... just sit tight okay?" You said glancing at the burns on his side, the bionic prostetic was fucked, the metal and carbon melted and twisted, his fingers all stuck in odd angles and fused as if he had cramp. It was probably where the caseing was melted and shrunk pressing on the components below. It was completely useless now.

Your gaze lifted with a wince the top of his arm and shoulder was almost steaming from the way the intense heat that had caught it. His skin was blitering, torn and sagging away from his actual muscles and tendons. He was sitting down at an odd angle, his arm jutted away from his body, avoiding the same agonising blisters and open wonuds on his arm that also decorated one side of his chest, down his ribs and abdomen.

He only uttered your name in response. Hissing as he shifted trying to inch closer. His eyes told you all you needed to know. He was relieved you were here, thankfull you saved him. Yet determined, angry. He wanted to kill obi-wan you could sense it. See it in him. He was frustrated because he knew how close he'd come to failing. How close he'd been to death. Yet he still wanted to fight. But he also knew he couldnt take on obi-wan again in this state.

"Thea Move!" Obi-wan demanded angrily drawing your attention away from Anakin. You growled locking your shoulders and tensing, anticipating a strike from the jedi master.

"Move Thea please, dont make me do this" you scoffed keeping your eyes on him as he poised his saber for another attack. Both of you prepared to do what must be done.

"Im not making you do anything, your doing it all on your own. Leave obi-wan. Its over, the orders dead. Just... just go" you hissed feeling the irritation grow with obi-wan. He couldnt see it! He was blinded by faith in an order that never was.

"You know i cant do that i cant walk away from this" the jedi master pleade, as if tryingnto make it seem as if his hands were truley tied. And that right there was the problem. The jedi order did this to people. Took away choices, forced decision onto people claiming it was for the greater good. When in actual fact it was just to protect the orders values. They belived that there was no other way, all other veiws were immoral. It was almost amusing the amount of hypocrisy the order spewed, the absolutes they enforced despite only sith deal in absolutes.

"Yes you can, just go. While you still can. I dont want to kill you but i will." Your words were almost pleading, yet too harsh to be considered as such. You needed him to just walk away.

"Youll really do this? Really stand by him? After what he has done! Join his madness?!" You winced as he tried to manipulate you, twisting the knife in the still raw open wound. Dredgeing up the worst atrocities Anakin had just commited to try and sway you. Did you agree with the younglings slaughter? No. Your not a monster. But whats done is done, and you knew Anakin would regret that untill the day he died. When he dropped out of what ever manic fury he was in the younglings will haunt him forever. Thats his burden, his punishment, his guilt to bare. Not yours.

"Yes. I wont abandon him when he needs me. I wont let him suffer alone. Not again" you called out louder then intended, you heard Anakins faint gasp as you confirmed your intentions. You felt his force signature lift from behinde you. Perking up with a warmth you knew to be his own relief and joy. He was happy you werent going to turn on him.

"You.. you love him. All this time you've been in love with him. Youll be sith fall into the darkside for him? This is why we dont love! This is the reason!" Obi-wan's words were small at first, doubtfull and confused. But quickly became frustrated accusations. You met his gaze and drew a breath choosing not to respond which made the jedi master snarl in frustration.

You had to look away from him, casting your eyes back to Anakin who had been torn between watching the scene before him and trying to ease his pain with deep breaths and force healing, that he wasnt exactly the best at.

But Anakin had heard, you wished he hadnt but he had. Looking up with a startled face, locking eyes with you questioning if it was true with a single gaze. You tore your eyes from him, fightened of what youd see in the next few moments. You didnt want him to know, didnt want him to see how far you had fallen. You were ashamed, your love was forbidden. But you loved your best friend, your comrade, brother. You loved a man who belonged to another. And it ate you alive.

"Dont you see? Dont you both see love feeds the darkness! It pushes jedi untill we are irrational and we fall untill we are sith;" Obi-wan began another rant, desperately trying to turn things around and scold you both into an epiphany. As if you both would suddenly stop holding people dear and your love would dissappear.

Obi-wans words seemed to be the final straw, he had found your tipping point. Scolding you like a child about pride and responsibility when he himself couldnt even admit the order had fucked up. That they had been cruel and negligent.

"I am not a jedi! I am not a sith! I am a fucking human being obi-wan. A free, thinking, feeling, angry, tired human being who has had just about enough of the orders propegander cultist shit!" Your scream echoed in the valley so loud it rendered the roar of mustafar almost silent in comparison. A small amount of your force rippled around you shifting the sand and rocks about your feet. Your rage had come to a boil, the darkness within you flickering awake. But you refused to stamp it out, refused to deny it this time.

"Thea.." the jedi master stepped back lowering his saber in shock as your aura darkened before him finally releasing what felt like a lifetime of pent up rage and fear. The fury and down right evil radiating from you was enough for him to rethink this battle. You were glorious and frightening to behold.

"Your right. Your right I love Anakin! I love you! I love padme and ahsoka and stars forbid i even hold a love for my master!" You continued shouting, loosing yourself in the truth of your own emotion. Welcoming the anger and frustration for the first time in your life. Finally, finally letting yourself drown in it.

"But i also hate. I hate master yoda for not listening to me when i sought reassurance, instead of helping me he gave me riddles and kept me silent. I hate that i was never allowed to question anything, i hate that i was expected to give up so much for so little. That my life would become meaningless just because i could use the force; it fucking condemned me! Condemned all of us!" Your words spewed like venom they were acidic on your tongue so much so you had to spit them out to so they wouldnt poison you further.

"I hate that i have become a fucking gaurd dog of the elite! That i spend my days protecting crooked senators instead of helping the civilians i vowed to protect and i loath; no detest the order and its stupid fucking rules, rules that were created out of fear" you clenched your saber tight in your fist untill the ridges of the hilt threatened to cut into your skin. You shook, quivered dragging sharp breaths through your teeth as your own words resounded around you. The fear, hate, shame and guilt youd always felt releasing at once in once torrent of regret.

"You dont know what your saying;"

"Yes i do! i said it and i meant it i hate the order. Hate it Obi-wan! And im fucking relived that this is the end of it because its needed to fucking die for years!" You shut him down quickly with a snarl, inching forward as another more powerful wave of your now tainted force escaped in yet another blast towards him despite you trying to hold it back. It was impossible, the air around you was charged with it. Crackling and twisting in an invisible violent display of power.

You closed your eyes pulling yourself back from what ever edge you were teetering on. Trying to calm yourself and draw some deep breaths. You didnt want to loose control, not like this but... but you didnt want to lie to yourself anymore or pretend. You were a human, you were entitled to feel your feelings.

Obi-wan watched in horror as your saber rattled in your hand, shuddering violently in your grip for a few long seconds untill it faltered. He felt sick to his stomach as the blade transformed before his eyes. Red seeped from the hilt, consuming the purple of your blade with greed. It was over, there was no coming back from that. Your kyber had absorbed the hate and malice. He coudlnt pull you from the dark side now. You were lost.

Even Anakin was shocked never seeing such a thing happen before. He knew how it happened but never once thought youd bleed your crystal. You were always so controlled and carefull with your saber and handling your kyber. Perhaps this was why? You were close to the dark and it wouldnt have taken much to slip and fall. What shocked him the most was that you hadnt even realised what youd done. Was it was so natural for you to feel this rage that you didnt even notice it properly? You didnt cast a second thought to what might happen to your kyber?

You began speaking again, this time clamer. But still on the cusp of pure unadulterated rage. The frightening female rage that could stop a man in his tracks with a single 'no' still oblivious to the new red hue of your blade.

"Between the hate, love and frustration most of all i am sick. Sick and tired of this galaxy and everyone in it trying to contain those gifted with the force. Just because the force chose us to wield it; doesnt mean we have to be fucking soldiers or pawns or or slaves to someone elses doctrines" you explained revealing just what you thought the jedi truley were. Slaves.

You heard Anakin from behind you, repeating the word gently in a strange disbelief. As if he himself had never associated the two. But you felt the realisation. The moment his own anger spiked before knosediving into a deep depressed disappointment. He had replaced slavery for slavery. And he'd never even noticed.

"You.. you have been straying? these? Thea how long has this...." obi-wan summarised, not even angry at you. How could he be? This was the orders failing. For a moment you thought you could see understanding. That he accepted the order hadnt just failed to understand and protect Anakin, but you aswell. How many others? How many jedi hated the order and were just too scared to sya it? How many people had stayed silent just so they could remain with their loved ones and not be exiled?

"Longer than him. As long as i can remember I..." your words trailed off. Once again shame and doubt cluding you. This was difficult, for the first timemyou were being honest with yourself, with obi-wan and Anakin. It was daunting letting everything out like this, feeling true emotions willingly. Youd been trained not to, itgoes against everything youve been brought up to belive.

"Thea? Why did you never say anything?" Anakin called from behind you finally managing to stand and breath through the pain, all be it unsteady and lopsided, his uninjured arms curled below his burned one.

"I couldnt. I never wanted to admit it... anakin you? Had your own doubts if I'd said something? I didnt want anyone to know my real thoughts. Or influence you." You uttered slowly still coming down from your rage, inching yourself back into a calmer state of mind. Somehow your outburst had stopped the raging war between the jedi master and Knight.

Or maybe obi-wan wasnt attacking because he knew itd be useless. A master jedi would struggle taking on one dark side user, let alone two. It was clear both you and Anakin had embraced your afinty for the dark side to certain degrees. You were both unpredictable now and obi-wan probably wouldnt best you both.

You tried to ingor the flutter of pride, you made a jedi master question his own strength and resolve. It wasnt a stretch to say he might even fear battleing you now youd begun your decent into the so called darker aspects of the force

"There is only the force and it is grey. It is balance, but it is power and we all use it to gain victory. The force is blameless and we are all manipulators. Thats it. Nothing else you either use it or you dont. Everything in the force can be used for good or evil." Anakin hummed pondering the words in a very un-anakin like way. He never seemed one for deep thinking or philosophical nonsense. But he seemed to be taking in your points weighing them up against one another.

"Dont you see obi-wan we twisted it, us. We made it what it is and use the force as an excuse to control one another. And if you force me to choose between slavery in the light and freedom in the dark?" You turned from Anakin and began pleading for your friend and teacher to understand your point. He had to, even if he didnt like it or agree you had to make him know of your reasoning. That you werent ust an evil woman driven by a need for power and vengeance.

"I choose the dark, just like Anakin. And honestly i chose it long ago... i was just scared of loosing what was most important to me. Scared to break the chains" you glanced to Anakin again unable to keep your self from checking on him. You were worried, concered and anxious to see if he was angry or disgusted by the way you felt about him. But he didnt give any indication, he was lost innhis own thoughts and didnt seem to aware of what was going on in that moment.

But then again he was probably overwhelmed. In the last few hours he'd betrayed the jedi, stormed the temple, slaughtered the younglings and jedi, almost killed padme and his unborn, fought his master, almost been burned alive and then had to deal with your hidden feelings coming to light.

"Thea please;" obi-wan tried again holding out his hand to you, trying to offer you a path back into whats left of the jedi. And it felt like the final attempt. He looked conflicted and exhausted.

You shook your head and stepped back as if he was trying to poison you. And in a way he was, he wanted to draw you into something youd only just managed to truely escape. He was still a slave he just couldnt see it. You pitied him in a way. He was too far gone and would never ever be free.

"No. I wont warn you again kenobi. You need to Leave now. And do not seek us out again" your voice didnt waver. You didnt flinch or stutter. Though the strength was just a mask. Inside you were crumbling, it shouldnt have come to this. The order should have just faded away like all relics of the past. But the jedi were greedy in their own way, stubborn. They refused to change, belived there was no need to ever compromise and for that hubris they had paid dearly.

Obi-wan didnt say anything, what could he say as you severed every connection you had with him. Every familiarity gone in a instant. He flicked his gaze from you to anakin and back again before disengaging his lightsaber and backed away. And then he was gone, falling out of sight behind the dunes.

You stayed alert until, you saw the ship take off and felt you and anakin were alone. Only then did you finally disengage your own saber and relax, collapsing to your knees taking a moment to come to terms with what had just happened. You were out. Free, free to feel and love and hate, free to decide whats best for you, live on your own terms with your own beliefs.

Tears began streaming down your face. This wasnt what you thought itd be, wasnt what you feared. Where was the shame? The terror and guilt? You were supposed to be lost and alone now. But all you felt was relief and strong. You felt peace yet a chaos, powerfull. You felt bold. It was everythingnyou were told it wasnt. You heard anakin shuffle behind you and then a gruntal moan as he fell heavily to the floor next to you. That snapped you out of your trance, you can reorder your feelings later, for now he needed you.

"Fuck, fuck are you okay? Here lets get away from all this lava, come on up here, let me see." You began quickly assessing him while trying to usher him futher up the bank. He swore under his breath pushing at you hands as you tired to support him. It was slow going but you managed to help half drag him higher moving him away from the rushing lava river that nearly killed him.

"Hey talk to me..." your voice grew quiet as the silence dragged on becoming uncomfortable and tense. But he just stared at you, yellow eyes burning into you trying to figure something out. Like you were a puzzle for him to pull apart.

"You... saved me from the lava... you pulled me free before....and protected me. You chose to stay?" He finally spoke confusion lacing his words. For a moment you thought he was going into some pain induced delirium or shock syndrom. He was both questioning you and doubting himself. Yet at the same time reaffirming what had happened.

"Yes. I did... Are you okay? Anakin your scaring me;" you confirmed before trying to find out if he was feeling like himself. You needed to lnow if he was going to turn and attack you or not. You had to be ready, he may have dropped his saber but youd seen what he'd done to padme without it. You didnt want to be the next one on his list.

"Anakin is dead." He snarled, sharp and furious. It was manic he was desperate to distance himself from who he once was. You drew a breath nodding to him, raising your hands slowly in a surrendering motion as you felt his force swirl around him erratically smothering you in a thickening cloak of raw power.

"W-who has taken his place?" You tried not to fear the answer, fear him. But he was glareing at you so intensely it almost physically hurt.

"Vader. Darth vader." You flinched, swallowing dryly. So it was true, he wasnt just becoming a dark jedi, but a sith. A true sith apprentice, one day a sith lord like the old tales. But you managed to take it in your stride simply nodding along with him.

"And what is darth vader going to do? I-is he; are you going kill me? Now that obi-wan is gone and the jedi are being eradicated" with that he relaxed. The acceptance soothed him, his rage receded as if he understood you werent going to argue or harm him. You felt an overwhelming sadness at that. He was so defensive and vulnerable yet youd never noticed before. He didnt reply the silence was deafening, you could only assume the worse.

"It okay vader... its okay of you need to; just at least let me help fix you up first alright?" You reassured him holding back tears. You knew this was a possibility. Knew he might kill you anyway to truly set himself free of the order. And you were willing to do that for him, to die for him to release himself from the shackles of the order.

"Thank stars its your right at least you wont lose another hand, well youll need a new prostetic and your shoulders fucked for now but we can;" you continued babbling trying not to think as you began healing him slowly, carfully letting your force flow through you to at least sooth his pain. He stared the whole time gazing almost blankly at you. Not evern hissing or flinching as you worked over the burns.

"Were you telling the truth?" His voice carried a vulnerable lilt to it. Like a child asking a parent if they were truly forgiven after being naughty. It was a small voice one youd never heard him use before. You stopped what you were doing and sat straighter giving him your undivided attention, yet it was you who felt like you were under a microscope.

"Is what you said true? About the order... the dark. Your feelings... your love?" He struggled to voice the words aloud but had to. And just like he had to ask you knew you had to answer.

"Yes. I havent ever truly cared for the order, but i did fear them. I stayed because i had people i was afraid of losing" you looked down still feeling shame. It was so ingrained into you that everything you thought and felt was wrong you could'nt help but be nervous revealing it so intimately.

"But eventually you have to be true to yourself and accept it. Even if it means getting yourself killed. If thats the case I'll die free and honest" you summarised tryingnto let him know you understood and you were at peace with your impending demise, especially if that ps what he needed.

"And your love? Was that a truth you had to face? The thing you couldnt lose...The person you were afraid of losing?" He asked again this time more desperate. He raised a hand to yours, clasping your wrist tightly and pulling it from his wounds. You closed your eyes sighing.

"Im here arent I?" You chuckled nervously motioning around you. Trying to deflect and make him assume what he wanted to save yourself the embarrassment. But he shook his head a growling at you in frustration, irritated at your refusal to answer him directly.

"No. Thea I need to hear you say it. I need to know the truth. Tell me." His frustration rose and his grip grew tighter making you wince. Your eyes searched his, pleading for him to let this go. Whats the point in pouring your heart out to him now?

His gaze was stern, brows pinched and jaw set firm, twitching in anger as the seconds slowly ticked away in silence as you continued your staring match. Finally you gave in looking away afterall you didnt have to look at him to bare your soul to him.

"Say what? That ive been madly inlove with you since i was a child? That i didnt understand what it was untill it was too late? That i adore you? That i always pushed myself harder and harder just so i could keep up with you and we wouldn't be separated? So i could be there if you ever needed me? That i could be strong enough to save you if you needed it?" You managed to wokr up the courage to look at him and gently twisted your hand from his grip and raised one slowly to his face. Cupping his jaw softly. He closed his eyes pressing into your palm, twisting slightly nuzzling into you enjoying the soft comfort.

"Yes. Yes to all the above. I love you and it has always terrified me like nothing else in the world. I was told so many times by my master by yoda and everyone who noticed that i was wrong. That it was dangerous and itd destroy me but i didnt care. I love you An-Vader;" you stopped yourself short and pulled away from him before you broke down. You felt like your chest was in a vice, being crushed. Your stomach was churning unsettled by the mix of fear and warmth you were feeling. It felt unnatural to just be human and experience your own emotions without resisting.

Vader followed your hand unconsciouly before capturing himself. Frowning in disappointment as the soothing touch fell away from him. He let you retreat knowing you you needed to distance yourself to get this off your chest once and for all. He was prepared for tears, and frustration and cursing. But he wasnt ready for the dark turn your words took.

"Fuck i even pulled clovis aside and threatened to skin him alive when he started to interfere; and i wasnt bluffing i was going to do it. I had a plan on how i was going to get away with it too. i scared him and myself. i couldnt find it in myself to be jealous of padme or resent her becasue i just wanted you to be happy. And if her love made you happy that was enough for me" your words pulled your force,making it thrum once more igniting under the surface with an eager malice as you remebered the fear. The promise you made to clovis as he trembled at the thoughts you were pushing into him. Youd gone too far that day. You knew you had, forcing him to see his own torture in his minds eye. It wasnt the jedi way. Youd avoided him after that. Not wanting to relive it, far too frightend of your own commitment to your threat. Youd have done it. Youd do anything for Anakin.

"She didnt, she never actually;" Vader began speaking searching for the words to explain himself. As much as he didnt want to belive it he knew there was only one explination for padme's refusal. He wasnt enough. His love and devotion wasnt enough to keep her by his side. He trembled, lip quivering as he turned to look you in the eye and finally with a shaky breath he admitted outloud what you both knew to be true.

"She has betrayed me. She wouldnt come with me y/n. In the end she didnt want me enough. I did everything for her. All this for her and she abandoned me her love wasnt enough to stand by me." He broke down, he didnt understand. Didnt want to, the pain was too much. He had sacrificed everything for her survival. And he sees now it was in vain. He'd been living a lie for her and she didnt see what it had done. What she had cost him. What he was willing to pay for her to be safely by his side.

You inched closer as he crumbled, mouring his love. His loss, his failure. It cut you, twisted cold knives in your gut. How? How could she have done this? Didnt she see what there marriage had cost them? Cost Anakin. No. How could she? Padme was free, she had nothing to lose. To her she had a powerful, respected ,handsome husband who she could have exciting secret couplings with when ever she wished. She got to run around in her own exciting forbbiden romance reality.

Yet Anakin could have lost everything he had worked for . All his years of blood sweat and tears would have been for nothing. He'd have lost his home,family, freinds, job his entire world would have crumbled around him if he'd been caught. And in the end he gave it all up willingly, falling from grace so thoroughly just to save her life. And it wasnt enough.

"But you didnt run... you didnt abandon me..your feelings are real, they have to be" you were pulled out of your thoughts by him grasping you, his hand coming to your cheek. You gasped as he pushed forward fingers trailing down to your jaw thumb lightly, ghosting your lower lip and then with a languid twist his fingers rose once more to settle on your cheek again.

Its was like he was mapping out your features. Fascinated and in awe. You blinked at him speechless from the delicate feather light touches. He'd never done anything like this before. His eyes became haunting as the yellow shrunk giving way to his puplis that grew wider. It was like he were seeing you for the first time, releasing the tight grip on his own restraint. Just as you were about to break the silence he spoke again, this time softer.

"You... you just threw away everything for me. Risked everything to protect me, just as i did for her. You truly love me. More then the others; more then my own wife. Im sorry, sweet angel im so so sorry i never saw it before." He apologised slidingmhis hand to cup the back of your neck and tipped forward pressing his own forehead to yours.

"I will not forsake you as she has done me. Do you hear me? I will not, i swear to you Thea. Come with me. Join me" the vow caught you off gaurd. This was something you only dreamt of. A fantasy youd kept in secret. He closed his eyes arching up pressing a kiss to your head inching closer and pulled you to rest on his collar bone. His arm now dropping to coil around you as best as they could with the damage done to his prostetic. You leant into him letting yourself curl into him, closing as much space as you could between the two of you.

"Join me? Please? We can... we can build something. Be something greater than what we were designed to be. Make an empire that will bring peace, that will punish the wicked greed festering in the galaxy" you shuddered feeling a sob bubble up. The guilt and elation both clashing in an overwhelming storm of emotion youd never been allowed to experience before. Tears began flowing once more as you tried to latch onto something familiar, something comforting. But there was nothing, it was all brand new and frightening.

"But what about Padme? Arent you going to try and convince her again? Or sidious? He will kill me im not strong enough to join him he'd never;" your words were mumbled, sentences torn apart by weak sobs and soft sniffles. You were desperately trying to find some stability, some comfort in all the chaos. And you were most comfortable when denying yourself everything youd ever truly wanted.

"Padme is not my concern any longer. Its time i stopped kidding myself, she showed where her loyalties lie. She was willing to let me; the so called love of her life, her husband, the father to her child; die at the hands of obi-wan becuase i chose another more powerful path" You shook your head disagreeing in mumbled hlf sobs weeping into him still unable to really understand what he was saying, you heard the words but it didnt register. You didnt want to risk believing them incase this was a trick, a ruse to ruin you completely.

"You were not. You who has been by my side, and loved me in secret. You stood up against obi-wan to protect me, thats the loyalty and courage a true wife should have. I will not ignore that sacrifice" he said louder, a grit to his voice determination and authority pouring from him. He wanted you to listen. To truly listen and see this for what it was. This was the defining moment of both your lives. The moment you both truly found oneanother and began walking the same path, marching towards a future that would give the both of you everything youd ever wanted and needed.

He honestly belived that both of you had been drifting through this life, mearly exsisting waiting for this moment where the force finally unites you both. He could feel it now, see clearly for the first time in years. The sleepless nights, doubts and fear of his own desires and marriage came to an end and al. He knew was that this was where he had meant to be. Here with you standing on the dawn of a new era for the galaxy.

"Sidious will not harm you. I will not allow that. You are loyal to me. You are mine. And i will fight to,protect you as you have fought for me today." His words poured, hands grasping you tighter as you cried still weakly holding onto the past. Your own doubt and fear clouding your resolve. He hated it. The way you crumbled so completely into him, you were strong. Always so strong but here and now you were lost and overwhelmed. It was down to him to pull you through. To guide you back and show you your place amongst all the changes.

"But im a jedi; vader dont... dont toy with me. I know you need to kill me and its okay. Its okay, im ready. I knew; you dont have to;"

"You are no longer a jedi. Look. Your saber...see?" He cut you off quickly, a snarl. Then he let out a breath before tipping his head to your saber and explained gently. You frowned at him before leaning to the saber youd discarded beside the both of you as you slumped to the ash. With a quick look to Vader you ignighted your saber only to yelp and drop it as soon as the red glow shone from the hilt.

"Oh... oh stars what?" You blreathed out fear and shame flushing through you. Vader moved bringing the saber between you both again ingiteing it again needing you to face the reality of your new predicament.

"You bled it Thea. Somehow while your kyber was still sat inside your saber. I haven't even managed to bleed mine yet. But you? It seemes you have been much closer to the dark side than me for a while" he hummed flicking his gaze from your awe struck face and the now red saber. It was odd seeing one so close without being attacked. It was raw, powerful. He could feel the rage and distress from within it, he knew he was feeling your own discontent through the hilt. But at the same time there was almost a relief? You were at peace with the red kyber. There was an understanding. He could only assume youd been fighting it for a long time.

"I think that is what made obi-wan retreat. He realised you were serious and willing to do what ever it took. That you meant every word and if he had stayed he would be fighting a powerful woman with no jedi rules to follow" he pondered outloud still watching you trying to decipher your thoughts. He could see how this was a moral dilemma. You seemed to return to him from the shock and gave a half smile taking the saber from him with a lightly nod and clipped it to your belt.

"He feared for his life and ran" he smirked as you scoffed at that rolling your eyes at him. He released a breath he didnt realise he'd been holding as you seemed to have gatherd yourself together with an odd acceptance.

"Once i have gained the knowledge i need i will end sidious and We shall rule. You and me Thea. The jedi order and all those who stand in our way will fall;that is if you want to join me? Become the force wielder you were born to be" he ducked down following your eyes as they dipped away from him, his uninjured hand tipping your chip up once more. You flicked your eyes to his, the amber was almost golden and shone with a sincere pleading. He was being honest.

"Become the woman you were meant to be. Im asking you take this final step with me please. Come with me, serve me, stand beside me; where you belong take your place along side me and rule. Will you help me make them all pay?" You swallowed whimpering quietly lowering your eyes to your saber resting in your lap and then locked eyes with him again. What was there to lose now? You had nothing now. Nothing but the freedom to choose.

"Yes of course i will. Id do anything for you" you managed to speak through the thickening lump in your throat, managing to push through the emotional whirlwind that encased the two of you.

"And i you. Perhaps it is not too late for us, maybe we can both finally break our chains and find the true love we have always craved"

"Dont say things like that, you love padme and that wont change. And thats okay Vader." you grunted into him still weakly trying to deny what had just happened. Still convinced that Vader was lost in his own feelings and hurt by his wife. Refusing his love for her out of spite.

"You love many people, why would you think im any different. I have always held you close to my heart. I do love you, i thought i loved padme more. But... I was young and foolish, you were jedi and untouchable she wasnt. I loved you enought o never risk you, yet i didnt do the same with her. Maybe i was wrong?" He sighed pondering hos own reasoning and short comings. Maybe he should have giving things more thought before jumping the gun the way he had. He would admit after his marriage hed been torn, happy to have a slice of normality but felt an uncomfortable pain when he'd watched your face drop at the news.

"Fuck anakin really must be dead. He's never been wrong before" you laughed slapping at him playfully. He grunted pushing you back making you fall back into the ash calling you a brat.

"Oh thank god theres still some sass in there, for a second there i though vader was going to be a boring old fart" you both chuckled at that and for a second there was nothing else. No responsibilities, no betrayal no jedi of sith. It was just the two of you chuckling at your own antics as youd done so many times a children. Before everything real and pure had been stolen away and twisted for someone elses gains.

"Come. We should go he isnt patient" vader spoke glancing up the ridge as he felt Sidious approach looking down the bank to the both of you. He stood with a grunt dragging you up beside him with useing the force. You gasped lightly at the way his life force acquainted itself with you in a new familiarity. It was forbidden to use the force this way, touching carelessly could cause unbreakable force bonds, your own life forces could mingle and become reliant on one another. It was almost seen as rude and obscene to let your force touch someone else outside of healing and battle.

You eyed him flushing but said noting, instead shyly opened yourself up to him as you both began to climb up the bank towards sidious. You felt unsure as you followed vader, but you trusted him. Sidious might not have wanted you but... would he real1ly deny another corrupted jedi? Your answer came as you approuched him, he peered around vader to you and his face lit up into a sinister grin. He nodded eyes glinting with glee, it would seem he was pleased with his two for one deal.

"Come, let's get both of your injuries tended to and then we can discuss our next objectives" you relaxed visibly at that before letting Sidious lead you both away. You weren't sure what was going to come next, and selfishly you didn't care. All you knew was for the first time in your life, you'd made the choice. And you will stay beside Vader for along as he allowed you to. You will not turn your back on him. Not now, not ever.

[mustainegf]

I’ll Get Even || D.M.

I use the name Elena for female character!

WORD COUNT: 8.2k

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, revenge sex

SUMMARY: Dave is deeply upset and furious with his friend David for betraying him by pursuing and sleeping with the girl he was interested in. Feeling deeply hurt and vengeful, Dave decides to retaliate by pursuing someone David cares about, intending to make him feel the same pain and betrayal he experienced. But Dave ends up liking her more than he intended.

Alone in the dimly lit apartment, the only sound breaking the silence was the absent-minded plucking of guitar strings. My fingers moved restlessly over the instrument, weaving a disjointed melody that mirrored the disarray within. Stress, anger, and the bitter taste of betrayal hung heavy in the air. I couldn't escape the mental replay of David's voice, a once-familiar warmth now tainted by the recent transgression. The understanding we once shared, the unity of the band, crumbled under the weight of his unspoken betrayal. The mind felt like a battlefield, the walls echoing with the turmoil of emotions that I grappled with. The girl lingered in my thoughts like an unresolved chord. The attraction, the silent admiration, had been upended by David's impulsive claim. I questioned the authenticity of my feelings, realizing that I didn't harbor a genuine liking for her. It was more about the breach of trust, the violation of an unspoken code among friends. I never truly wanted anything more than sex. My fingers paused over the strings, the guitar a vessel for the tumultuous symphony of emotions within me. The room, once filled with shared laughter and the joy of creating music, now felt like an echo chamber amplifying the harsh notes of my inner discord. I sat in the solitude of my thoughts, grappling with the complexity of my feelings. There were no concerned glances from friends, no curious inquiries about the storm raging within. It was just me and the weight of unspoken words, the unaddressed wounds festering in the confines of solitude. I knew in my heart I shouldn’t be as upset as I am. Who’s going to stop me though? As I contemplated the strings beneath my fingertips, the girl's face flashed in my mind. It brought me a sort of distaste, the last thing I thought of doing was smiling. I couldn’t even completely remember what she looked like. That’s how I knew it was purely lust. It wasn't merely the loss of a potential hookup; it was the fracture of a friendship that had weathered the storms of the music scene. Who cares it was just sex right? The guitar became an extension of my frustration, the strings vibrating with the silent protests against the injustice that unfolded. Alone in the apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling of being overlooked, left in the shadows of David's impulsive actions. The notes I played resonated with the bitterness of this monologue. The room became a dark pit for reflection, a place where unspoken feelings and regrets lingered in the air. I questioned the authenticity of my emotions, wrestling with the realization that my attraction to her wasn't as profound as the sense of betrayal that fueled my anger. I couldn’t quite understand why I felt the way I did, or if it was even fair for me to feel this way. All I could see clearly was my fury for David.

The dim glow of the apartment offered little solace as my fingers, devoid of their usual rhythm on the guitar strings, clenched into tight fists. The echoes of David's gloating words reverberated in my mind, stoking the fires of an anger that seemed to seethe from the very core of my being. We had gathered at an after-party a few nights earlier, an attempt at reclaiming some semblance of friendship after the recent betrayal. Yet, the atmosphere crackled with tension as David, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he'd ignited, launched into a relentless monologue about his latest conquest. Each word felt like a blow, each boast a painful reminder of the anger deep in my stomach.

"This new girl, she's practically a lost puppy. It's going to be so damn easy." My jaw tightened, the muscles in my face contorting as I fought to conceal the seething rage beneath the surface. The internal dialogue that had been my constant companion now roared to life, a tempest of conflicting emotions. I wanted to shut out his words, to escape the relentless barrage of arrogance that seemed designed to chip away at my sanity. David continued, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing within me. "I mean, these girls, they are just too easy to get into bed. All it takes is a few charming words, and they're falling over themselves to be with you." His words hung in the air like a toxic fog, poisoning the room with their arrogance. The internal dialogue raged on, dissecting his every syllable. I felt sick, not just from the alcohol that lingered on my breath but from the toxic blend of resentment and rage welling up inside me. My fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the couch, a futile attempt to ground myself in the face of David's relentless bragging. The once-familiar camaraderie now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the raw emotions of betrayal and wounded pride. I recalled the memory of him again. "I think I may like her more than the others," David continued, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "She’s different." His words were a dagger to the heart, and the internal dialogue transformed into a battle cry, demanding a release for the torrent of emotions within. “You’ll lose interest once you cum.” I said firmly. It was annoying watching David babble on like this random chick could be the love of his life, all while deep down, what he really only wanted was a one nighter.

Sinking into the worn comfort of my couch, I couldn't escape the tumult of thoughts that surged through my mind like a relentless storm. The echoes of David's boasts and arrogance at the afterparty lingered, each word etched into my consciousness like a fresh wound. My gaze fixated on the ceiling, a blank canvas that mirrored the emptiness I felt. The thoughts, a ceaseless companion, dissected David's behavior, leaving me grappling with the puzzle of his actions. Why did he gush over a girl he had spoken to only once? What fueled this need to flaunt conquests as if they were badges of honor? The memory of that night haunted me—the arrogance in David's voice, the malicious glint in his eyes as he recounted his interactions with this newfound girl. It baffled me. Why was he so fixated on someone he barely knew? The internal dialogue sought answers, probing the depths of my confusion.

David had mentioned inviting her to a party tonight, a continuation of his relentless pursuit. The mere thought of watching him parade her around like a trophy made my stomach churn. It wasn't just about jealousy or wounded pride; it was about witnessing the objectification of a person, reducing her to a mere victory in the twisted game David seemed determined to play. I grimaced at the prospect of being a spectator to this charade, forced to witness a night that promised to be an extension of David's arrogance. The girl, a mere pawn in his game, deserved better than to be treated as an object of conquest, a means to stroke David's ego. As I sat on the worn couch, the gears of my mind turning, a realization dawned like a spark in the darkness. The internal dialogue, once a chaotic symphony of confusion, now orchestrated a sinister harmony. What if, instead of being a passive observer to David's callous pursuits, I took control of the narrative? The idea took root, and with it, a newfound energy pulsed through my veins. The unnamed girl, another unwitting pawn in David's game, became a potential instrument of revenge. The internal dialogue whispered, suggesting a daring and audacious plan—a pursuit that would not only thwart David's arrogant expectations but also leave him in the dust of his own miscalculations. A devilish grin played on my lips as I entertained the notion of turning the tables. What if I pursued her with genuine intentions, wooed her with sincerity, and, in the process, left David floundering in the wake of his own overconfidence? The internal dialogue reveled in the idea, fanning the flames of revenge that now burned brightly in my heart. The thought of David's face twitching with anger, the realization that he had lost control over a situation he thought he had mastered, fueled a surge of adrenaline within me. It wasn't just about the girl; it was about reclaiming a sense of agency, a defiant response to the betrayal that had transpired. The girl, a potential ally in this silent rebellion, deserved to be treated with respect and sincerity. My revenge wouldn't stoop to the level of objectification; instead, it would be a showcase of authenticity and genuine connection. The idea took root, growing like a vine in the fertile soil of resentment. The upcoming party, once a dreaded event, now transformed into a stage for a carefully crafted performance. I envisioned David's incredulous expression, his arrogance shattered by the unforeseen turn of events. The internal dialogue reveled in the prospect of his anger, relishing the idea that he would be the one left bewildered and defeated. The image of his angry face fueled the fire of revenge, a burning desire to reclaim control over a situation that had spiraled out of hand. The energy of revenge, once a simmering ember, now burned brightly in my heart. The internal dialogue, a whisper of rebellion, urged me to seize the opportunity and turn the tables. The party loomed on the horizon, a stage set for a performance that would leave David in the dust of his own misguided arrogance. As I rose from the couch, a newfound sense of purpose fueled my steps. The guitar, now a silent witness to my silent rebellion.

The clock on the wall loomed large, ticking away the moments until the party—an arena where my revenge would unfold. With an hour to spare, I moved with a newfound sense of purpose. As I stood before the mirror, the reflection staring back at me became a canvas for transformation. A smirk played on my lips as I realized that not only was I preparing to woo the girl who had unknowingly become a pawn in David's game, but I was also gearing up for a grand performance that would leave David utterly disappointed. It was evil, and something within me loved it. I was never too fond of my reflection, but right now, I have put that aside. I reached for a shirt I had saved for special occasions, a subtle blend of confidence and style. It was just a plain white button up, but I left the buttons half done up. I did this in hopes to tease my target for the night. Something in my head urged me to put in a little extra effort than usual, and I complied. Each choice, from the carefully selected cologne to the slight adjustment of my long wavy hair, was a deliberate step toward a revenge plan that now seemed like a stroke of genius. The anticipation of David's dismay fueled my every move. I chuckled to myself, imagining the disappointment etched on David's face when he realized the tables had turned. With a final glance in the mirror, I couldn't help but appreciate the slight transformation. I made my way to the door. The party awaited, a stage for the grand performance that would not only captivate the attention of this random girl but also shatter David's illusions of control.

The pulsating beat of music greeted me as I stepped into the lively atmosphere of the party. A few familiar faces fistbumped me as I made my entrance, the camaraderie resonating with a newfound sense of confidence. The internal dialogue hummed with excitement as I navigated through the crowd.

A sense of cockiness surged within me, an undying confidence that emanated from the knowledge that tonight, the game was in my hands.

In the midst of laughter and the clinking of glasses, I spotted Marty, my other bandmate, stationed near the kitchen. His nod of acknowledgment was accompanied by a wry smile, as if he sensed the mischief brewing within me. "Hey, Marty," I greeted, keeping the tone casual. The kitchen offered a brief respite from the pulsating energy of the main party area, and I intended to make the most of it. Marty looked up from his drink, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Dave, man, I was starting to think you may not come."I chuckled, a self-assured grin playing on my lips. "I changed my mind, figured I should get out of the apartment."

As I reached for a beer from the fridge, my thoughts stirred with a hint of mischief. It was time to weave the topic of David into the conversation. I leaned against the kitchen counter, adopting an air of nonchalance. "David grow a pair and talk to her yet?" Marty's expression shifted, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Pfft. Well, she's here, but as far as I know, David hasn't made a move yet. He ain’t drunk enough." I nodded, feigning casual interest while the internal dialogue reveled in the unfolding narrative. The game was afoot, and the revelation that David hadn't made a move yet only added to the sweet anticipation. "Figured," I remarked, my smirk growing more pronounced. "It’s always a liquid confidence with him." Marty chuckled, clinking his beer bottle against mine. "You seem unusually cheery tonight." I brushed things off. "I guess I’m just in a good mood." Marty raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "You’d better not cause any shit." I merely shrugged, maintaining the enigmatic air. I shot a grin at him, walking past him.

As I left the kitchen, the internal dialogue surged with a sense of triumph. The pieces of the revenge plan were falling into place, and the mere thought of David's confusion and frustration fueled the fire of anticipation within me. The main party area beckoned, a vibrant sea of faces and laughter. The music pulsed with a rhythm that seemed to sync with the beats of my confident steps. My evil thoughts whispered words of encouragement, urging me to savor every moment of the unfolding drama. As I mingled with the crowd, the undying confidence within me manifested in every gesture, every word. A few friends clinked their glasses with mine, and the party was infused with an electric energy. I moved through the crowd with a magnetic pull, the anticipation of the night's events guiding my every move. Amidst the lively sea of musicians and familiar faces, my gaze was drawn like a magnet to her across the room.

She was a vision—gorgeous in every sense of the word. Curly auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with freckled cheeks. But it was her smile, absolutely breathtaking, that stole the spotlight in the crowded room. As I observed her from a distance, a sense of awe washed over me. My thoughts, usually quick-witted and calculating, seemed to falter in the presence of her beauty. I had to admit it to myself—she was stunning. She had such a pretty face, one that radiated through the room. Trying not to choke on the sudden surge of nervous excitement, I couldn't help but marvel at the woman who had become an unwitting pawn in the tangled web of revenge. Her presence in the room elevated the atmosphere, a magnetic force that drew my attention with an insatiable pull. I urged myself to approach her, to engage in conversation that went beyond the superficialities that had colored her interactions with David. The need to speak to her, to look into those pretty eyes and show her I could be so much better than David, became an insistent force within me. The crowd melted into the background as my focus narrowed to the captivating woman in the distance. With each step closer, the internal dialogue oscillated between anticipation and nerves, creating a symphony of conflicting emotions. With a playful smirk on my lips, I reached her side.

"Hello there, beautiful," I greeted, my voice dipped in a flirtatious tone that hung in the air between us. A delightful blush crept onto her cheeks, and her eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "Well, thank you," she replied with a coy smile. "You certainly know how to make an entrance." She had a lovely voice as well. "Dave Mustaine," I introduced myself, holding her gaze with a confident yet genuine demeanor. "And the pleasure is all mine."

"Elena," she responded, extending her hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Dave." The touch of her hand sent a subtle jolt through me, and I couldn't help but marvel at the warmth of her smile. The internal dialogue, now a companion in this dance of introductions, whispered words of encouragement. There was a magnetic pull in the air, a sense that this interaction held the potential for something beyond the initial motives. "So, Dave," Elena teased, her eyes glinting mischievously, "do you make a habit of charming strangers at parties?" I chuckled, the internal dialogue recognizing the playful dance we were engaged in. "Only the ones who catch my eye," I responded, a subtle yet intentional flirtation in my tone. Elena's laughter echoed, a sound that felt like a shared secret between us. "Well, you're doing a pretty good job so far." As the night unfolded in a melody of laughter and exchanged glances, a lull in the music provided a moment for a more intimate conversation. I turned to Elena, my eyes holding a genuine curiosity, "So, Elena, are you here with anyone tonight? Somebody you came to see?" Elena's gaze met mine, her eyes holding a hint of wistfulness. "Not really," she admitted with a small sigh. "There was a guy who invited me, but he's been ignoring me all night." The internal dialogue, ever perceptive, immediately connected the dots. David. It couldn't be anyone else. The realization sent a ripple of conflicting emotions through me—surprise, a touch of empathy, and perhaps a hint of satisfaction at the unexpected turn of events. "Oh, really?" I responded, feigning innocence while internally acknowledging the revelation.

"That's a shame. You'd think if someone invited you, they'd at least make an effort to enjoy your company." Elena's eyes flickered with a mixture of disappointment and amusement. "You'd think so, right? But I guess some people have their own priorities." This unspoken connection between us deepened, a shared understanding of the dynamics at play. With a playful glint in my eye, I seized the opportunity to weave our flirtatious banter into the conversation. "Well, maybe it's a good thing he's been occupied elsewhere," I teased, a sly grin accompanying my words. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the chance to enjoy such a beautiful woman's company." Elena's laughter, a harmonious melody, echoed through the night. "You’re quite the flirt." Elena's presence had become more than just a pawn in the revenge plan; she was a willing participant, turning the night into a shared journey of unexpected connections and shared laughter.

“It's hard not to,” I shrugged, a grin pulling at my lips. As the music pulsed through the crowded room, my eyes darted around, catching sight of David out of the corner of my eye. Frustration etched across his face as he shot glances in our direction. A silent satisfaction stirred within me, knowing that David hadn't realized I had noticed. Seizing the moment, I smoothly guided my arm around Elena's waist, the touch intentional yet casual. I felt her warmth against my side as we continued to navigate through the party, the subtle gesture a not-so-subtle reminder that the night had taken an unexpected turn. It was a subtle act, a play of dynamics that would undoubtedly make David's wounds sting a little more. The unspoken connection between Elena and me deepened, the flirtatious banter evolving into the perfect addition to my revenge plan. Elena's eyes sparkled with amusement as she looked up at me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Well, aren't you quite the confident flirt," she remarked, her tone teasing and playful. I couldn't help but chuckle, a sense of satisfaction bubbling within. The night had taken unexpected turns, and Elena's observation added a touch of lightness to the evolving dynamics between us. I knew I was moving too fast for it to be natural, but all I cared about at the moment was how angry David looked. The same feeling that had been burdening me for days.

About an hour had passed, I wasn’t too sure. I was too drawn to her attention, acting out my plan. Despite this, I could feel myself being pulled to her, whether David was a part of it or not. There had been a moment or two where her hand would brush my arm. Living the party life, that sort of thing had ceased to affect me. Though this time, her touch made my heart pound, and my face go warm. I played this off. I noticed her drink was nearing empty. Seizing the moment, I suggested,

"How about a drink? I'm heading to the kitchen for another one." Elena's response was a warm nod, and a genuine "Yes, please. Thanks!" as I excused myself, leaving her momentarily to venture into the heart of the party. As I navigated through the crowd towards the kitchen, the unyielding rhythm of the guitar accompanied my steps, becoming the soundtrack to a night that had become more complex than initially planned. The anticipation mingled with the pulsating beats, and a sense of satisfaction surged within me, knowing I was navigating this unforeseen dance with an undeniable flair. Entering the kitchen, a brief respite from the energetic chaos outside, I swung open the fridge door, grabbing two cold beers—one for Elena, and one for myself. The clinking sound of the bottles served as a reminder of the shared moments that had woven into the fabric of this unexpected narrative. Just as I closed the fridge, the atmosphere in the room shifted. An unseen tension tightened the air, and I turned to find David standing at the entrance, a storm brewing in his eyes. His anger was seething, an unspoken demand for an explanation hanging heavily between us.

"What the hell, Dave?" he spat, the accusation cutting through the hum of the party. "What are you doing with her?" Despite him being right, I maintained a calm exterior. I met his gaze with a cool stare, letting the smirk play on my lips. "Just hanging out," I replied, the words dripping with a casual nonchalance. It was a calculated move, a deliberate choice to keep him in the dark about the true nature of the evening. David's frustration intensified, evident in the way he furrowed his brows and clenched his jaw. His attempts to extract more information were met with deliberate ambiguity. "Just hanging out? Seriously? With your arm around her?" he accused. I couldn't resist the smirk that accompanied my next response. "Relax, David. We're just having a good time. No need to overthink it," I said, each word calculated to further fuel his frustration. The power dynamics had shifted, and I reveled in the newfound control over the situation. Grabbing the beers, I casually brushed past David, heading back to where Elena awaited. Returning to the lively chaos outside, I handed Elena her beer with a friendly smile. The mischievous glint in her eyes mirrored my own satisfaction. As we clinked our bottles together, a silent toast to the unpredictable twists of the evening.

Elena's words flowed like a gentle melody, her enthusiasm for music weaving through the air. Despite the intriguing conversation about shared musical interests, my attention wavered, captivated by the way her eyes sparkled with passion. I found myself lost in the depths of her gaze, her beautiful face a magnetic force that drew my focus away from the words she uttered. As she spoke animatedly about her favorite artists and the songs that held special meaning for her, I struggled to keep my thoughts from wandering into a realm of desire. Her laughter echoed through the night, each sound a sweet note. Yet, beneath the surface of the engaging conversation, a more primal instinct tugged at the edges of my consciousness. I couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to extend this evening. I wondered if she would be willing to come back to my apartment with me. The idea lingered, fueled not only by the desire for revenge but also by the genuine attraction that had somehow taken root. A subtle smirk played on my lips as I entertained the thought. Bringing Elena home with me would undoubtedly intensify the already simmering rivalry with David. The idea of his seething anger was all I could think about. That and the woman who stood before me writhing beneath my shadow. My lips ghosting past her neck, my hands exploring her soft skin and firmly holding her waist. My dick stirred to life, and I very quickly adjusted myself. I tried to bring my attention back to the conversation, nodding and responding with what I hoped were appropriate remarks. Elena's laughter, now intertwined with night.

The rhythm of the night pulsed around us as Elena and I continued our conversation, the energy between us a dance of words and glances. In the midst of our banter, Elena interrupted with a casual request, "Hey, do you know what time it is?" I glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands pointing at the number eleven. "It's 11 PM," I responded, a subtle surprise registering on my face. The night had felt like an intricate tapestry, and the realization that it was already late caught me off guard. Elena sighed, a soft sound that carried a hint of reluctance. "I should probably get going," she said, her words punctuated by a resigned expression.

The unexpected eagerness to leave stirred a mix of disappointment and curiosity within me. "So soon?" I questioned, genuine surprise coloring my tone. Elena chuckled, her laughter a delightful melody that cut through the ambient noise of the party. "I'm not much of a party-goer, to be honest. I prefer not to stick around for too long." The prospect of the night coming to an end brought forth an idea, a subtle invitation that lingered on the tip of my tongue. "Well, if you're in a hurry to head home, you could always come home with me instead," I suggested, my tone carrying a mixture of playfulness and genuine interest. Elena's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint as she considered the offer. "Oh, trying to whisk me away I see? What kind of gentleman are you?" she teased, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips. A reciprocal grin spread across my face. "The kind who appreciates good company. Aswell as a beautiful woman," I replied, the invitation lingering in the air. Elena feigned contemplation, her playful expression holding a touch of mystery. "Hmm, well, I suppose I could be persuaded to join you. Why not, you’re cute," she finally conceded, her flirtatious tone adding a playful cadence to the night. “Oh you think I’m cute huh?” I rolled my eyes with a grin, slipping my hand into hers. With a subtle intertwining of fingers, Elena and I began to make our way towards the exit, the connection between us growing more tangible with each step. The party's soundscape faded into the background as the anticipation of what lay beyond those doors took center stage.

As we reached the threshold, I turned slightly towards the kitchen, where Marty and David stood. "We're gonna head out. I'll see you guys, yeah?" I called out, my voice carrying through the room. Marty's friendly smile and casual wave greeted my announcement, a silent acknowledgment of our departure. David, on the other hand, responded with a glare that carried a simmering resentment. The tension between us, now palpable, added an extra layer of satisfaction to the unfolding narrative. Elena, seemingly unfazed by the subtle confrontation, squeezed my hand in reassurance. The night wrapped around us like a comforting blanket as we stepped out into the cool air, the distant strains of the guitar's chords echoing in the background. My car, nestled under the soft glow of streetlights, beckoned us to escape the lively tumult of the party. A subtle breeze rustled the leaves, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. Guiding Elena to the car, I opened the door for her with a gentlemanly gesture. The dim illumination played enchantingly upon her features, illuminating the auburn tendrils of her hair and casting shadows that danced across her freckled cheeks. As we settled into the plush leather seats, the hustle and bustle of the party became a distant memory. The engine purred to life, and with the promise of a quieter space, Elena turned her gaze toward me, her eyes holding an inquisitive spark. "So, do you know that guy from the kitchen, David?" she asked, her curiosity adding a subtle melody to her words. Playing the part of the oblivious companion, I offered a casual smile. "Yeah, I know him. He's my bandmate," I replied, my tone suggesting that such a connection was entirely ordinary. A sigh escaped Elena's lips, and her eyes conveyed a sense of disappointment.

"He's the one who invited me tonight," she confessed, the frustration and resignation evident in her voice. "Then completely ignored me." Feigning surprise, I furrowed my brow with empathy. "Really?" I responded, my expression a careful blend of concern and disbelief. "I had no idea. I'll give him shit for leaving you on your own Sorry, David can be a prick. You don’t deserve that." Elena's laughter, a harmonious melody that resonated within the confines of the car, filled the air. "It's okay. I'm used to it," she admitted with a dismissive wave. "Besides, I'm having a better time with you anyway." Her words brought a genuine warmth to my chest, and the internal dialogue, always dissecting the unfolding dynamics, whispered words of satisfaction. The revenge plan, it seemed, had not only unfolded seamlessly but had also forged a connection that surpassed the initial motives. Navigating through the city streets, the ambient lights creating a picturesque tableau against the night sky, our conversation flowed organically. The revenge plot gradually receded into the background, overshadowed by the genuine connection forming between us. Elena's laughter, the sparkle in her eyes with every shared story, became the focal point of the night.

The soft glow of the city lights spilled into my apartment, creating a subdued ambiance as Elena and I crossed the threshold. I gestured toward my room, indicating its location with a nonchalant sweep of my hand. "My room’s down there if you’d like," I said gently, a playful smirk playing on my lips. Elena responded with a subtle nod, a shine in her eyes. As she vanished into my room, I took a moment to hang up my jacket, the familiar routine providing a brief interlude. I approached my room with measured steps, unsure of what awaited me beyond the door. The subtle creak of the floorboards betrayed my approach, a prelude to the revelation within. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside, and there she was—Elena, perched on the edge of my bed, her posture a mix of patience and anticipation. A soft chuckle escaped my lips at the sight of her, the echo of her politeness rippling through the air. It was a laugh born of genuine amusement, appreciating the unexpected charm in her demeanor. "Well, I hope it meets your expectations," I teased, my voice carrying a hint of playfulness. Elena responded with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting a glint of shared amusement. The room, dimly lit by a bedside lamp, felt charged with a quiet energy. As I moved closer, the details of her features became clearer—her expressive eyes, the subtle curve of her lips, and the way her presence seemed to fill the space with a warmth that not even I could fully explain.

I couldn't believe I had successfully taken David's little fling, it made me feel a sense of power, and her gorgeous face was only adding to the mix. "God, you are beautiful..." I muttered, staring into her eyes.

Elena's gaze lingered on mine, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. Her lips parted slightly, and I could see the hint of a smile playing on her face. Elenas next moves were slow and calculated. She leaned in gently, and l accepted this. My heart jumped a bit as her lips touched mine. The kiss was slow, and sweet. The perfect first kiss. I placed my hand on her cheek, softly caressing as our lips moved passionately. I felt a shiver run through my body as our lips parted, and I tasted her sweetness.

Her tongue gently traced the outline of my lips, and I couldn't help but respond in kind.

The kiss deepened, and I felt a wave of lust wash over me. I broke the kiss for a moment, looking into her eyes.

Without another thought, I slowly pressed her down onto the mattress, kissing her neck as I did so. Elena let out a soft moan, her body arching up to meet mine. Elena was quick to respond, her hands running through my hair as she pulled me closer.I could feel her heartbeat quicken, and I knew she was as turned on as I was. I continued to kiss her neck, my hands exploring the curves of her body. Her skin was soft and warm, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the way she responded to my touch. I traced her collarbone with my fingers, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin. I moved my lips to her collarbone, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin. Elena let out a soft moan, her hands tightening in my hair.

"Let's get this dress off of you" I uttered, sitting up slightly with her as she helped me take hr black dress off. she wasn't wearing a bra, and she had on black laced panties that hugged her gorgeous hips. I took a moment to admire her body, my eyes roaming over the curves of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, and the way her hips flared out. She was beautiful.

I gently cupped her breasts, kissing her chest. I could feel her nipples harden against my palms, and I couldn't help but run my tongue over them. Elena let out a soft moan, her hands running through my hair as she pulled me closer. "Oh god..." Elena reached down, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it off of me.

"I hope David is jealous" I groaned, looking into her eyes with a smirk. Elena chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm sure he is," she said, her voice low and sultry.

She reached down and slowly palmed my erection through my jeans. I let out a low moan as she unzipped my jeans. I helped her pull them down, shaking them off as they fell to my bedroom floor. Elena looked down at my boxers, her eyes lingering on the bulge that was now clearly visible. She bit her lip, a look of desire in her eyes. "You're so big..." she whispered, her voice husky with desperation.

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride at the way she was looking at me. I reached down and pulled my boxers off, letting my cock spring free. It was rock hard and throbbing with desire. I looked down at it, a sense of pride and excitement washing over me. I couldn't believe how turned on Elena was by it. "You like what you see?" I asked, my voice low and husky with lust. Elena looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and lust. "I love what I see," she said, her voice low and sultry.

She reached out and wrapped her hand around my cock, slowly stroking it. let out a low moan, my eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Oh god..." I whispered, my voice shaking with desire. Elena sat up, pressing her lips to mine as she continued to play with me. I decided to return the favor, reaching my hand down and teasing her dripping slit as I kissed her back. I could feel her wetness, and the way she moaned into my mouth as I teased her clit. "Oh god..." she whispered, her voice shaking with lust. I broke the kiss for a moment, looking into her eyes.

"Lay down" I said softly, sitting up as she did as I said. I looked down at her, taking in the sight of her body. Her breasts were beautiful, and I couldn't help but want to touch them. I slowly kissed the flesh of her breasts as I reached down, grabbing my cock. I teased her entrance with the tip, groaning agasint her soft skin. "Are you ready?" l asked, my voice low and husky with desire. Elena nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and lust. I slowly pushed my cock into her, feeling the way she stretched to accommodate me. I let out a low moan, my eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Oh god..." I whispered, my voice shaking. I slowly began to move my hips, feeling the way she gripped me. "Oh Dave... yes, right there..." she whispered, her voice trembling with overstimulation.

"You like that huh" I grunted, pushing my hips a little harder."Oh fuck yes..." she moaned, her hips stuttering. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride at the way she was responding to me. "Now... I've got 2 options for you sweetheart..." I breathed heavily. Elena hardly opened her eyes, she was completely helpless at my mercy. My grinding hips only added to her overstimulation. "I can be gentle on you... I'll go slow... and soft..." I muttered between kisses. "Or..." I set another kiss on her jaw. "I can fuck you like you deserve." I groaned, nipping at her sensitive neck.

Elena's hands clenched the sheets as she gasped "Mmm... both..." she begged, her voice vibrating.

"Atta Girl... that's what I like to hear," I smirked, slowly pushing my hips. "I'll start off slow... but don't worry, I'll get to the good stuff." I whispered into her ear. "Just behave for me, yeah?" Elena nodded hastily, her hands finding the roots of my hair, gently tugging. Holy shit, I didn't think that would turn me on as much as it did. Just the gentle pulls as I pleased her, as I filled her, took her as my own. I took my time, slowly building up the intensity. I wanted to savor every moment of this experience. My hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and crevice. I kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. It was all quite the power trip, knowing it was my hands that were free to touch any part of her that I pleased, for my tongue to taste whatever piece of her which it desired. David was probably in a fit of frustration, and that only made me want more of her. I wanted to give her the best orgasm of her life, and I was going to do just that. I continued my slow, steady thrusts into her. She was so wet and tight around me, it felt like heaven.

I looked up at her, a few strands of hair laying over her face. I wanted to see her full face, I craved to bask in her beauty.

I reached up and brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Dave..." she whispered, her voice shaky with desire. "Look at me," I commanded softly, my eyes meeting hers. I could see the begging in her eyes, and it made me want her even more. "You're so beautiful," I whispered, my voice shaking with desire. God she was unlike any woman I'd seen before. And knowing I had successfully deprived David of his little crush lit a fire in my chest. She was mine now. I reached down, my fingers playing with her clit as I continued to thrust into her. "Oh god.." she moaned, her body brushing past mine.

"You like that huh?" I whispered, my voice stuttering from pure ecstasy. I felt my stomach begin to knot. "Are you on the pill, baby?" I asked quickly. "Y-yeah," she whispered, her voice shaking with desire. "Good..." I breathed heavily, my hips moving faster now. "'Cause I'm gonna cum wherever I please.” I growled. "You're mine, sweetheart." I whispered, my eyes locked on hers. Elena nodded eagerly, her hands reaching up to grab the back of my neck. "Oh. Yes baby..." she moaned, her body arching up to meet mine. "I'm yours..." I could feel my orgasm building, and I knew it was going to be a good one.

"I can tell you're going to cum, do it, cum on me." I growled, sucking and kissing her neck. My own climax was chasing quickly after.

She squirmed beneath me, her arms wrapping around my neck and holding me tight in place. I grunted loudly, forcing one hard thrust into her as I finally felt that sweet release. I let soft noises escape my lips and into her ears as she cried out. Elenas legs shook as we both relished in each other's orgasms. "Fuck..." I whispered, leaving soft kisses over her cheek and jaw. Elena let out a long exhale, trying to catch her breath. Her delicate fingers were buried in my hair, finding a strand to twirl in her grasp. She chuckled exhaustingly. "That was..." She didn't even have to finish to know | had done a good job pleasing her. But I wasn't even close to being finished. I felt my cum drip out of her tightness, which I was still buried deep within. "I'm not done with you yet, baby..." I whispered into her ear. Elena let out a soft moan, her body twitching.

"Remember, you did say you wanted both," I grinned, moving my cock just the slightest bit to make her flinch. I scoffed softly at how sensitive she was, It made me throb inside of her. I pushed my long hair back, gently grabbing Elena's ankle and resting her leg atop my shoulder. I wanted to be as deep as possible. I'd do whatever it took to see her wriggle and pulse as I made her feel so good, the way David couldn't. I looked down at her, my eyes roaming over her body. She was beautiful, and I couldn't help but want more of her. "You good?" I asked, my voice shaking with desire. While it took her a second to collect herself, she nodded. "Yeah, just please keep going..." she begged. I chuckled softly, my eyes never leaving hers. "Good girl," I whispered, my voice shaking with desire. "Now let's see how much you can take." I growled, my hips moving faster now. I gripped her thigh, trying my best not to dig my nails too deep and hurt her. It wasn't easy to keep my composure. The way she was just tight enough, she hugged me cock so perfectly, and she took it well.

I frantically grabbed her hips, pulling her close with each thrust, the added friction was unreal. “Good girl, taking me so well..." I groaned. "I wanna hear you, I want you to be loud, let me hear you..." I stuttered. I sounded completely desperate, and I totally was. I wanted to hear her voice, feel her body reacting to me. I wanted to make her cum again and again. "I want you so bad..." she whispered, a soft moan escaping her lips as I pushed harder into her.

"Fuck.. I'm gonna need more than that beautiful" I groaned, my voice shaking with desire. "You can do better than that, come on..." I encouraged her, my hips moving increasing their pace.

She was clearly having a tough time speaking at all, my insistent thrusts rendered her almost incommunicable. I gently grabbed her chin, pulling her gaze to meet mine. "What'd I say?" I demanded. "I'm yours, I’m yours.." she breathed, her voice shaking. "You feel so good Dave.." she whimpered softly. "That's better..." I whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck.

I groaned as her nails dug into my back, leaving red marks that would be hard to explain. "Fuck..." I growled, my eyes rolling back in pleasure. Ramblings began to spill from her mouth, and it only fueled my lust. "Yeah... fuck me like you mean it" she stifled. "Fuck me like you know David can't" her mention of David flared something within me. "Make him jealous... of how deep you are... how good you make me feel," She shivered.

"Fuck... yes..." I groaned, my thrusts becoming more frantic. I couldn't believe how much she was turning me on. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, and all of them were focused between her legs. I could feel her clenching around me, trying to pull me deeper inside of her. "Ohh..." I groaned, my voice shaking with desire.

"You're gonna make me fuckin' cum" I grunted, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. My thrusts were becoming merciless.

I wanted to feel her pussy contract around me, I wanted to make her cum again. "Fuck, that's it..." she whimpered, her

voice shaking with desire. "I'm gonna cum again..." she breathed, her nails digging into my back. I felt her clench around me, and it was all I needed to send me over the edge. "Fuck... fuck..." I groaned, my voice shaking with desire. I felt my cum shoot deep inside of her, and it was the most intense orgasm I’d ever had. "Ohh..." she moaned, her body arching up to meet mine.

I felt her heat spasm around me, and it was too much. I collapsed on top of her, my cock still throbbing inside of her. "Holy fuck..." I groaned, my voice shaking with desire.

"That was... fuck..." I trailed off, my mind a blank slate. I felt her hands running through my hair, and it was the most intimate thing she could have done. "You're amazing.." she whispered, her voice shaking with desire. I kissed her softly, my lips barely touching hers.

While the pleasure gradually subsided, as did my revenge plan. I pulled out of her, my cock still semi-hard. I looked down at her, and she was absolutely stunning. "You're so beautiful..." I whispered, my voice shaking with desire.

"You're not too bad yourself, Mustaine," she smiled. Her hair was messy, but in the prettiest way.

We laid still for a few minutes, just catching our breath.

Elena's hand was still haphazardly toying with my hair.

Normally I hated people touching my hair, I could make an exception this time though. "Mm... Can you walk?" I snickered, lazily trailing kisses over her jaw and cheek. "If l had to guess." she sighed. " I'd say no" she smiled back at me. My lips curled into a grin. "Get up, I'll help you walk. I'll clean you off" I mumbled. I stood up, my legs a little shaky. I held out my hand to her, and she took it. She gingerly got to her feet, and we made our way into the bathroom, my arm wrapped around her.

Being as gentle as I could, I helped her clean up, myself included.

As I helped Elena ease into bed. The exhaustion that had settled deep within my bones seemed to dissipate as her warmth enveloped me. Each movement was a delicate dance, a silent conversation between us as we found our way into a comfortable position. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I felt a sense of completeness wash over me. The softness of her skin against mine was a sensation that was refreshing. I held her close, savoring the feel of her body pressed against mine, the steady rise and fall of her breath a comforting rhythm. As she nestled into my embrace, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of this moment. We laid there quietly, skin to skin. Both of us only wore underwear, and the comfort we found in this vulnerability felt a lot different than the average hookup. I pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, a silent expression of this new odd feeling that filled my heart. I liked whatever it was. Elena lazily responded to this with soft kisses along my cheek and jaw. I couldn’t help but smile as she pulled away, her head falling back to rest on my shoulder. Her fingers traced lazy circles on my shoulder, each touch sending a wave of pleasure coursing through me. It was as if she had the power to soothe away all the worries and cares of the world with just a simple touch. And in that moment, I felt truly grateful. Soft whispers of affection floated between us. In her arms, I found solace. I liked this. I liked her.

[a-gal-with-taste]

What Is Seen (Oneshot)

Summary: The scars are not all you see, when you look at him. And in this moment of peace, warmth and closeness, you take the time to study them... and perhaps, finally, tell the Eye of Zaun what you truly see, when you see him.

Tags: Winter/Holiday Fic, cuddling, mentions of hurt/comfort, romance, some humor, established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff because I said so, sleepy kissing, Happy Holidays!

Silco X GN!Reader | 1397 Words | AO3

Too many gave too much attention to his scars, in your humble opinion. 

Admittedly, you had been the same when hired. Momentarily frozen under the sight of crackled-gray, fitted with blood red enveloped in pitch-black. 

It had struck you, haunted you long-after that first meeting, and lingered in your mind. Standing out as a permanent fixture in your thoughts, for days to come, until your next meeting. 

The meeting following after that meeting, you stopped paying attention to the scars. And, though he'd never truly admit it, you imagined that's when Silco began to pay attention to you as well. 

Love didn't come quickly, but the attraction certainly did. Magnetic forces brought together under the guise of business as he built-up his empire, and you eased-in the supplies with a finesse he quietly appreciated. 

But it wasn't your tactics and reliability that made him call you back, and likewise, it wasn't his scars that drew you in. 

Many claim his ruin-eye to be one of fire. True, but also nonsense; the green is far more in its bare intensity, often barely holding back tides of pure, raw thoughts and emotion in that seagreen gaze. 

It was that seagreen that drew you in, lost you in its depths, again and again, until you forgot the scars entirely. 

Forgot who Silco was sometimes, even. The danger of the sea didn't scare you, after your presence became something more than occasional - in fact, a part of you welcomed the drowning. 

And when at last, talks of business ceased, soon with all attempts at speaking failing as your lips found his, you indeed found the drowning delectable, addictive, and magnetic... 

You were more than happy to drown, again and again. 

Silco, though he never said it aloud, was more than pleased you were so-willing to fall to the depths with him. 

And so, you forget the scars. Quite impossible, yet so simple to cast them from your mind as time goes by, as brushes of skin and lips become more frequent, and less hidden. They simply didn't matter, and you so rarely took notice of them when his low-words and expert hands were far, far more all-encompassing. 

Which is why, in this moment of peace, you study your love - and more importantly, those scars everyone seems to fixate on. 

The fire before you both no-longer roars, but exhibits a heat that has long-since sent the Industrialist in a sleep, one that is much needed. You have no doubt your own body, and the comforter you both share, helped get him to such a relaxed state. 

Head tilting-back on the couch, jaw slackened to let soft little breaths whistle through chipped-teeth in his snores, it's a herculean task not to smooth back the ruffled dark-hairs that have fallen askew over forehead and temple. A task failing quick, as your hands begin to ghost up from its placement along the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart, and coasting further up to gently shuffle those dark locks back.

His breathing hitches, and your own stills.

When it resumes, you draw your hand away, tucking it back beneath the blacket, and against Silco’s chest with a tenderness that still, after all this time, feels unreal. It feels unreal, that you are capable of being this close to the man, and likewise, that he remains so close and so trusting to you.

It feels impossible to think a man like Silco can learn to trust again, when you give attention to the scars.

Guessing his weariness would be long lasting, the patch was placed on to hide away the toxified-eye in his rest, but it does nothing to hide the scars you trace with your eyes. Scars that define him. That changed him, fundamentally and morally, into the Eye of Zaun the Undercity knows of today. A man of ruthless and unapologetic nature, a creature of spite and maliciousness, taken human-form…

Others would flinch. 

You simply lean up to brush your lips against the blackened-grooves, the rigid flesh of his marred cheekbone.

It causes Silco’s breath to hitch, and return from the depths of snoring he had fallen into. You say nothing as he awakens with your name on his lips, only traveling your own to follow the line of his cheekbone beneath ruined skin, layering another slow kiss there, as he lets out a dry sigh.

“You realize, the nerves there are mostly dead,” Silco murmurs, in a perplexed question of sleepy affection, masked as dry sarcasm as he fights back a yawn. “I can neither feel nor sense you there, not in the correct capacity. It’s all… muted.”

“Even when I do this?” Another kiss, this one delivered closer to the hollow of his angular cheek, rather than the sharp-bone beneath. The action only earns you a hum, and the arm slung around your hip tightening.

“How about this?” Closer, edging-along the patch that hides his eye. Silco doesn’t even attempt to struggle back the deep yawn this time, but ends it with a tired sound of your name, that you know is secretly amused beneath the exhaustion.

Traveling your mouth closer to the lobe of his ear, you murmur in that honey-sweet, low pitch that you know has him shuddering. “And this-?”

Lips barely make it there, before he is turning, and capturing your lips with his own. 

You melt into him, and it’s not because of the fireplace that lays before you both. The warmth that spreads through your body, at the simple, nearly chaste kiss he offers, is not one that can be born out of such a physical-element as fire. Rather, it originates from something stronger, more heated and powerful, all encompassing, and burning in your veins, through your heart…

Enough to keep you warm, long after he pulls away to lean his forehead on yours. 

“Amusing yourself with my battle scars?” He questioned, more curious than hostile, but the green-gaze of his flickers over your face regardless. Largely from the force of habit, which you don’t blame him for.

“Not exactly,” You murmur, sliding your hand up once more, to cup the unscarred cheek. “Studying, more like.”

“Indeed?”

“Yep.”

“Care to share your findings?”

A smile dances on your lips, shadowed in the dancing of the flames, as you lean closer to murmur against his mouth once-more with hooded eyes. “They aren’t all that scary.”

“Ha.” Silco rolls the singular eye that remains. “I beg you don’t tell the populace. Or else, I may have to find a new career.”

“I could sponsor you.”

“And I would bleed-you dry,” He says in a dark-sweetness akin to bitter honey, as he nips at your bottom lip in a way that has you squeaking, biting back your own grin in an attempt to stay serious.

“I mean it. I don’t normally take notice of them… don’t normally see them, to be honest.” His brow raises, and you shrug, speaking your truth simply. “They aren’t the features I think of most, when I think of you. Not the focal point, and not what I see, when I think of you.”

“What do you see, then…?” His question grows quiet, as your hands travel up to cup at either-side of his face. Angular, sharp, and rough against one of your palms… but you hold his face with all the tenderness that comes when holding something precious, and gazing at him, as though he is indeed something precious to behold.

“What do you think, Silco?” You murmur simply, hand sliding further upward to push away the patch and returning to his cheek the moment it’s off. “What do you think I see?”

Slower, mismatched eyes flick between your own - from habit, ever-assessing, even with you. It’s not one you would fault him for, and you do not fault him now. Only smile, thumb brushing along the rough ridge of skin beneath the infamous eye, as you look at him. 

Look at the man you love. The man you’re happy to drown into, with those seagreen eyes, and happy to burn for, as you hold one-another close before the flames, and all-knowing he would do the very same...

Love. That’s what you see.

Silco never ends up answering your question.

But you think the long kiss he offers you next, as you lay together in the warmth of a crackling fire, says more than enough.

[stardusted-bookworm]

If you're still looking for prompts what about some hurt/comfort where Caleb and Molly get snatched by the iron shepards instead

General CW: mentions of trauma/ptsd(?)

It had taken a while. For the Nein to come. They knew they’d come as soon as they were able… but it had taken a long time. Long enough for the scars to run deep, physical or otherwise. The Iron Shepherds had not been… gentle.

The Nein found them huddled together as close as possible, both bound and made immobile. Caleb had had a gag in his mouth to prevent him from casting spells. It had almost driven him mad, the lack of speech. Almost pushed him back to his moments in the Sanatorium. Almost. If Molly’s tail—the only unbound appendage—hadn’t taken to curling around his leg every so often, he might have remained mute for the rest of his life.

As it was, it took a very long time for the human and tiefling to return to “normal.” Though Molly smiled as if nothing happened, Caleb noticed the way he watched the sheathed weapons of their friends, as if planning the best way to defend against them. Watched the way he flinched when the fire crackled a little too loudly.

But Caleb knew this trauma well. Knew these terrors like an old friend. So when Molly woke shaking and crying from nightmares, the wizard was right there stroking Molly’s hair and singing an old Zemninan folk song his mother used to sing for him. The tiefling would immediately curl his whole body around Caleb, trying to get as close as possible, as if he was trying to meld Caleb to his very being. 

Caleb never minded. In fact, he enjoyed providing the comfort he wished someone had done for him. He would switch from singing to telling stories of Der Katzenprinz and other folktales his father had read to him. His voice was often enough to calm Mollymauk, but some nights the terrors were too strong. These nights, Caleb returned the kiss Molly had given him long ago, when he himself had been in the throes of a traumatic flashback.

He always knew Molly had returned to some sense of neutral when he said, “You truly are a magical man, Mister Caleb. Thank you” and kissed his cheek.

Most times, Molly would return to where he’d been sleeping on the ground and slip into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep. Sometimes—Caleb’s favorite moments—Molly would fall back asleep curled around the human, entering the dreaming state with low, rumbling purrs.

In these moments, Caleb would continue stroking Molly’s hair, humming gentle tunes until he, too, fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The Nein never said anything when they saw human and tiefling cuddled together. Though, Caleb was positive Jester had already drawn them into her sketchbook, possibly with hearts around them… He'd have to ask her if he could have a copy for his records.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) - Chapter 2

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, non-con/rape, smut, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

The poem's my own, but is inspired by 'The Starry Night' by Anne Sexton

Also, I named the poet after her, lol.

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

Gale's suite was probably the cosiest part of the entire Dekarios Estate – even though his mother had a love for homeliness too. Still, nothing compared to Gale's rooms. The walls were panelled with wood and mostly covered in overflowing bookshelves, the creaking floorboards were warmed and cushioned by knotted carpets from Halruaa, there were potted plants on every windowsill, and the ever-crackling fireplaces added to the cosiness.

Astarion turned around his own axis and whistled.

"Gale of Waterdeep, what a luxurious home you have! I'm impressed." With that haughty smirk, he added: "Is your bedroom as lavishly decorated? With a canopy bed and dozens of pillows and a romantic swing in the corner?"

The addressed gave a little embarrassed cough.

"My bedroom's rather plain, but I do have a canopy bed."

At that, Astarion grinned wider, but still didn't show his teeth.

"My, my, you sure are full of surprises," he purred, slinking closer. He wrapped his arms around Gale's neck, gazing at him through long, white eye lashes. "Why don't you show me some more?"

Gale swallowed nervously and licked his lips.

He realised three things at once; one, Astarion was even more beautiful in the light than in the dark, two, Astarion's eyes were ruby-red, not brown like he'd thought they were, and three, Gale was truly and utterly fucked.

He'd never desired a person so carnally before. Gale hadn't thought that was even possible for him. But now, that he stood in his living room, lulled in by the pale elf's bedroom eyes and his intoxicating smell, he wanted. He wanted Astarion. To have him. To devour him. That unfamiliar feeling burned so hot in his chest that it almost physically hurt, and Gale felt like he'd die if he didn't give in to the urge. He swallowed again.

"Astarion... may I kiss you?" he whispered into the silence of the room. The addressed blinked at him as if he was surprised to be asked such a question. Then, his eyes softened and he smiled as he leaned in.

"You may," Astarion answered and their lips crashed together instantly.

It felt... Gods... It felt like nothing Gale had ever felt before.

Of course, he'd traded his fair share of kisses – he was almost forty, thank you very much –, but it had never felt so intense and all-consuming before.

Unintentionally, the wizard moaned into the kiss and allowed Astarion to take the lead and explore his mouth. The elf's tongue was surprisingly cool, but Gale didn't care. It caused him a pleasant little shiver that he enjoyed almost a bit too much.

Way too soon, Astarion drew back, reminding the wizard: "You need to breathe, darling."

The addressed gulped in lungfuls of air. The elf smirked, then, he spoke: "And before you think I just pretended to like poetry to get into your bed, here's the proof;

'But eventually the stars dim at the sky,

and even the moon is swallowed up by the light,

and the next morning comes, new and bright,

oh, starry night, this is how I want to die.'"

Gale couldn't help himself but smile fondly at the other man. He leaned closer until their foreheads touched and muttered: "Thank you for finishing the poem, Astarion, but I believed you the second you said Annelore Nixton's name."

"Don't mention other people's name when you're trying to seduce me, darling," the addressed teased lightly.

"Is it working?" Gale asked breathlessly. "The seducing, I mean?"

Astarion paused, frowning a tad.

"It is," he answered, sounding almost surprised.

The wizard chuckled and pulled him into another kiss.

"Bed, darling," the elf murmured, but it ended in a moan when Gale kissed his neck. There was a scar there and the wizard was curious of its origin, but he thought it would be rude to ask about it now. Instead, he took Astarion's hand and guided him to the bedroom. It was the tidiest and most modest room in the suite. With a snap of the wizard's fingers, the candles ignited, illuminating the room.

"Mmh, handy," Astarion muttered against Gale's ear. He nosed along the wizard's throat and licked across the junction where neck meets shoulder.

"You smell delectable," the elf whispered. "I want to taste you."

"Please," Gale groaned and buried his hand in Astarion's silky-soft hair. The latter drew back before he dropped to his knees and Gale stared.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" asked the elf.

"No, it's just... You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"What gives you the impression that I don't want to do this?"

There was a small frown between Astarion's brows.

"Nothing. I'm just... just checking in on you," explained Gale, suddenly self-conscious.

"Oh..." The elf blinked. He seemed confused. "Thank you, but I'm quite alright. How do you want me?"

"Any way you take me," the addressed answered truthfully and blushed furiously when Astarion shot him a dirty grin.

"Well then, Gale of Waterdeep, strip and lay down. I want to ride you."

Oh. Oh, Gods. Gale couldn't hold back a whimper at the image his mind so helpfully conjured up for him. Hastily, he did as he was told, stumbled to the bed, and all but crashed onto his back in the most inelegant way possible. He heard Astarion chuckle and when he lifted his head, he saw the pale elf kneeling at the foot end of the bed. Completely naked. Holy Mother of – Gale quickly swallowed the saliva that was suddenly pooling viciously in his mouth. Again, Astarion smirked knowingly.

"Do you have lube, darling?"

The elf wasn't even done asking when Gale's hands already started rummaging through the lowest drawer of his bedside table. The wizard quickly handed his partner a vial of oil and Astarion set to work, fingering himself open. He put himself on full display, Gale noticed. Making a show, just for him. Somehow, Gale didn't like it. It seemed too forced, to unnatural, too... rehearsed. The wizard sat up and looked at the elf.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Of course," Astarion moaned, rocking back on his fingers.

Gale crawled over and ran his hand over the other man's shoulder while he observed him. Even though Astarion seemed aroused and rather into it, he wasn't panting. Gale moved his hand across the elf’s chest and belly, and stroke his trim waist.

"You're beautiful," he said reverently.

"Thank you. Not enough people mention that," replied the addressed and gave a little groan when he successfully hit his own prostate.

Gale stroke Astarion's hair tenderly and asked: "May I taste you?"

"Yes."

As soon as Gale got his answer, he bent down and took the elf's cock in his mouth. With a gasp, the latter's hips bucked up, almost choking the wizard.

"Oh, Gods! It has been so long since the last time anyone –"

Astarion didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he moaned, loud and blissful, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. Gale liked that, thus, he doubled his effort, paying extra attention to the sensitive glans. Astarion threw his head back and moaned again. His unoccupied hand slipped into the wizard's shoulder-length wavy hair. Not to push, only to hold. To ground himself, probably.

"Gale," Astarion whined. "Gale!"

The addressed noticed the tension of the elf's stomach muscles, the twitch of his inner thigh, and braced himself. With a noise, that landed somewhere between a moan, a sob, and a scream, Astarion came. And Gale swallowed it all eagerly.

"Oh, f– Oh, f-uck!"

The elf collapsed onto the bed, landing on his rear, with his legs folded on his sides like a baby deer's. Gale sat up, swallowed again, wiped his mouth, and asked: "Was that... alright?"

"'Alright'?" Astarion barked a laugh. "Gods... you almost killed me with that wicked mouth of yours."

The addressed turned crimson, but still had the wits to reply: "Well, my mouth can do more than cite poetry."

"I'm aware now," snickered the elf.

For a moment, they just sat there in comfortable silence and let Astarion recover. Still, Gale noticed how painfully hard he was, and couldn't help but give himself a few strokes to relieve some of the pressure.

"Oh, darling, you poor thing," Astarion cooed. "Let me make it up to you."

And with that, he pushed Gale backwards into the mattress. The wizard was surprised by the lithe elf's strength who seemed almost malnourished with the way his abs were showing. But he forgot to think straight as soon as Astarion sunk down on him. Gale groaned as the elf's body engulfed him. It felt heavenly. It was so tight. So... cool? The wizard frowned a bit. That was weird. He didn't remember a person's body ever being – And in this moment, Gale's brain got scrabbled as Astarion rolled his hips in such a way that had the wizard's eyes rolling.

"Ooh! Oh, Gods! Astarion..."

Gale found hold on the elf's pale thighs.

"Yes, darling. Call my name," the latter spoke. "The only thing you remember shall be my name, and you shall shout it when you come inside me."

He did that things with his hips again and Gale bucked up into him with a desperate whine.

"Gods, Astarion, please... Please, kiss me."

The addressed hesitated even though he kept his hips moving. Then, he bent down and complied to the wizard's wish who moaned wantonly. He was addicted to kissing, Gale decided. He loved kissing the elf. This stranger he'd just met tonight and who he'd let into his home, into his bed, and into his heart.

Astarion drew back, sat up, placed his hands on Gale's chest, and started to bounce in the wizard's lap. The latter's brain almost short-circuited which... was new. That had never happened before. Not with anyone. Not even with Mys–

"Say my name, Gale of Waterdeep. Say my name."

"Astarion..."

"Again."

"Astarion."

"Louder!"

"Astarion!"

"Again!"

"Astarion!"

"Yes!"

The elf, who kept rolling his hips, finally started to pant, and when he threw back his head and his spine arched beautifully, his pearly-white teeth glinted in the candlelight. His fangs glinted. Fangs. Ah. That explained everything. Gale heard a choked-off sob.

"Astarion," he panted pleadingly. "Kiss me again. Please."

This time, the addressed didn't hesitate and complied immediately. Gale climaxed with a long and loud moan, clutching Astarion's thighs, while the latter whined into the kiss and started to shake apart too. Then, the elf collapsed onto the wizard, his head buried in the latter's shoulder, still trembling slightly while coming down from his high.

Gale sighed deeply and opened his eyes. He felt truly and thoroughly fucked out – and his mind was still blissfully quiet.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you're a vampire?"

The sudden question hung in the air like a heavy spell and Astarion tensed. Just as a precaution, Gale held onto the elf's thighs a little tighter. He didn't want him to run away.

"I –" Astarion hesitated. "I didn't want to scare you off, nor did I wanted to end up with a stake between my ribs. Vampire's aren't exactly liked – for good reasons, I must add. I'm a mere spawn though, not a fully-fledged vampire. None of the benefits, but all of the inconveniences."

"Hm, I see," mumbled Gale. "Are you hungry?"

The elf's head shot up from where it had laid on the wizard's shoulder.

"I beg you pardon!"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Gale explained hastily, "but before... when we started... you asked if you could taste me, and it just appeared to me that you maybe meant it more literally than figuratively. So, I ask you again; are you hungry? Because if you are, I'd gladly donate some of my blood to you."

Astarion stared at him, long and intensely, as if he was looking for the catch or the lie. The wizard waited patiently. Finally, the elf dropped his tense shoulders and sighed.

"Well, that's an unexpected offer... and I'm – I'm always hungry, really. But usually, I – Well, it's not important."

Astarion gave him a beaming smile, finally showing all of his beautiful teeth, but Gale looked at him, frowning.

"Why are you always hungry?"

"Well, usually I – Hm... My master prohibited me from drinking the blood of thinking creatures. I don't know how much you know about the effects of a vampire lord's words on their spawns, but when he gives you an order, you must follow said order, no matter if you want to or not. It's literally not in your power to refuse your master's words. Your body's being puppeteered against your will. Your own body doesn't belong to you anymore. You're a thrall, through and through."

"So... your master... his orders still apply to you? Does that mean he's still alive, or does his orders still take effect even after his death?"

Astarion kept quiet for a moment, then, he answered: "I'm a free vampire spawn. I have no master anymore. But his words still echo in my mind, even though they don't actually apply anymore. Thus, I still only consume the blood of animals."

"Your master's dead then?" Gale probed. "How did that happen? Did monster hunters kill him, another vampire, or you?"

The addressed pressed his lips into a thin line. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.

"It doesn't matter," he finally muttered. "I'm free now."

Gale was itching to ask more questions, but he did what he usually never did; he dropped the subject. Instead of pressing on, he simply nodded and kept silent. It was the right thing to do since Astarion's handsome features smoothed out and he rested his head on Gale's shoulder again, relaxed.

"Just let me stay like this a little longer, darling."

A unfamiliar, weird kind of panic got hold of Gale and he pleaded: "Please stay with me."

He felt Astarion smile against his collarbone.

"Alright, darling."

[dotted-ink]

Pogburs posture through exile starts and remains perfect, when he knows eyes are watching. During his presidency, he practiced keeping his back straight and arms level and shoulders at perfect ease, and the habit carries through if only due to the fact that the reason he learned to stand like that was because that's what a 'good leader' does.

So he stands perfect and tall so no one thinks hes falling, because he has to be strong for the pogtopia rebellion, and for his friends still trapped in manberg.

And when his friends look away he slumps. Hes tired. He has no space to think about presentation with no one to present to, and he'll hardly be thinking about keeping himself looking nice just for his own happiness. There's too much else to do.

Pogbur slouches a lot, actually. He slouches in the farm, in the mine, when they're out on reconnaissance and when they come back late from exploring the forest above. When he forgets about the eyes always on him, he looks so much shorter. Smaller.

And, well, he knows that.

Its why he props his skeleton just so- looking broad and tall in posture whenever he realizes the eyes on him, from friend and foe alike. He has to be perfect and powerful, anything less would be pitiful.

He has to be perfect.

Eyes are on him.

He walks back to the underground ravine at night standing tall, cloak steadily following behind him as a stark black shadow. Tommy runs forward as they near, and Tubbo and Q follow if only to ensure he doesn't make off with the items their group scavenged.

Wilbur breathes slowly as they pass out of view among the trees. Its getting darker. He closes his eyes and allows his shoulders to fall, slowing his walk to an unfaltering limp at the dirt entrance of Pogtopia. When he makes his way down the spiralling stairs, his cloak drags on the steep, poorly carved steps behind him, indistinguishable from the leeching darkness surrounding him.

He limps out of the stairwell and into the main passage, where Tommy is probably yelling and Techno is probably snarking, and Niki is probably vigorously entrenching herself in any activity that will distract her from their circumstances, and then to the tunnels- those mad, crisscrossing, never-ending tunnels winding through the earth around them.

Wilbur finds himself, hours later, still moving through the sparsely lit tunnels. He notices his shoulder had been leaned against the jagged walls as he walked, so his jacket had torn through again. He'd get someone to mend that... later. Probably. His heels hurt. His spine hurts. His vertebrae wont stop pinching at the joint between neck and back.

Wilbur, of course, slowly makes his way back to Pogtopia, hoping that someone might still be up to help him make some food as a late night to early morning snack, and half-hoping everyone had left so he can let himself fall into a relaxed puddle somewhere deep within the dirt.

When he sees the faint flickering of light at the end of the tunnel, he feels a disappointment that adds another layer of rot to his bones. Someone is awake, still. He knows he can't handle anyone seei- Ex President and Rebellion Leader Wilbur Soot can't be seen dragging himself back to main base like a person in distress, so he straightens himself up like he's done some thousands of times and walks in with a confidence he's truly felt nearly twice in his life.

When he walks into the glorified hallway that is Pogtopia, his shoulders fall even farther than before when he realizes the light was from a furnace that had probably been running since before he left, fed by a continuous series of charcoal and potatos via hopper machine. There's not a single sound in the entire cavern, aside from his breathing and the crackles of the furnace. The hopper deposits a new potato to the furnace.

He takes a baked one from the chest below and nearly brings it to his teeth (what would be his first meal in 40 hours), but falters, hand shaking and setting the thing down somewhere solid before he drops it.

There's not a single sound around him. There are no eyes.

There's no one here right now to eat and talk with him, and help him cook food. He's really alone in this darkness now, so there is no point in keeping posture. There's no point in keeping health. He's safe from expectation.

Wilbur thinks he might cry if he thinks too long on that one, so he checks the hopper to see how many raw potatoes there are and clicks his tongue when he sees its nearly run out. Wilbur supposes it would probably be nice if someone actually got to work on fixing the automatic potato farm, and goes to do that for his friends. They're all out somewhere- wouldn't it be such a nice surprise, to come back to a repaired Pogtopia? A mended place, no cracks to be seen. No spiralling tunnels and mad decay. No damp corners or rotting, desolate dishes of food stacking up outside the room Wilbur never actually sleeps in.

He knows it should be an easy fix- he knows the problem, redstone dust never does well when exposed to constant damp, unchanging air. He just has to swap in dry dust and allow the wetter redstone to evaporate what it accumulated, so power can flow in an unblocked path across the machinery. Its simple, really.

So why can't he just do it? He knows the problem, the solution, and he even has a furnace already running that will help to dry the old dust. He steps into the farm and stops with his toes just in the soft soil at the edge. Why won't his body move further?

Hes tired. It's no excuse. He needs to do this, for his friends. He can't move. It's no excuse. Wilbur hurts, and can't stand only on two legs when he knows no eyes are watching. He drifts to the ground, it's no excuse. He has to clean up the wet redstone- else everyone will be disappointed by his shoddy leadership skills and terrible work ethic. He can't, he can't, he can't.

The room is dark, the furnace fire around a corner and a dozen meters down the hall. He knows the soil is damp, because his face has found its way to meet it. Its cold, here. Not as cold as he'd expect, but cold for a cave with no vents constantly lit by fire. He feels the wet of the dirt seep to his scalp and finds it comforting. Hes tired.

Its warm.

It is dark. There aren't any eyes here, so he sleeps in the comfortable soil, curled alone at the edge of the farm, as the furnace runs out of fuel and turns dark.

[spirestar]

There are many times that Astarion thinks he may have no feelings at all. That they could all be yet another illusion of choice, his mind a malleable thing, built to be manipulated rather than be allowed to choose anything. If he were wired this way then maybe the decades upon decades of enforced obedience might not hang over him like a hangman's axe — His rage so unbridled that he must laugh to keep it at bay. Would Cazador want him to feel that way? To make being dragged home hurt more? To remind him that he's nothing more than a tool to be pointed towards its work, an object that foolishly believes it has any more purpose than what it was made for? The sun on his skin is sometimes his only lifeline in this. Cazador would never let him have it. Giving to take away is one thing, but even giving a toy a breath of freedom like this wouldn't even be something the bastard would consider. A walk out at night, maybe; One followed by weeks locked up without more than cockroaches to feed on because he dared to believe he had earned time to himself. Never the sunlight. Never clear air and people who look at him as if he might be useful for more than what he's done for as long as he can remember—

He has plenty of time to question it. After all, elves don't truly sleep and too many lifetimes of never resting at all have left him bereft of most meditation skills. Astarion listens to cicadas. He counts their many scratching notes as if their legs are tiny violins serenading him teasingly. There's always something to look at, too: Karlach's blazing heart crackling louder than the camp's dwindling fire, Wyll's tossing and turning as he slowly but surely grows accustomed to his devilish form, Lae'zel's almost-comically tense posture as if she is a stone knight cast on a coffin, sword covering the length of her body. At times he wonders, with a kind of undeniable glee, that they never wake to stare at him in horror. For a not-quite-vampire, it only gets better than that when one is allowed in a building.

Tonight is different though. Astarion is awake once again, of course, but the difference is in his companions. All are asleep, save one — the cleric he's still not quite sorry he jumped at the coast that proves herself more and more useful as the days pass by. He has to think of people that way. Else he'll stop being able to question how he feels and be forced to come to terms with it all.

She's looming. And Astarion should know, he's an expert loomer. Propping his chin up slightly on his makeshift pillow, he takes in her odd position at the center of camp. Eyes far away and face flat. Usually he'd leave things be. People are wont to do as they will whether he says anything or not. But how can he — How can he possibly do that when he can't control what she might do next? If she's only contemplating whether to wake someone up and venture out, that's one thing. Maybe she wants to go kill a few extra bandits just to feel their blood on her skin. Astarion would understand! Instinct is a funny thing. After living in a state of alert most of one's life, it refuses to quiet down for any anomaly.

"Briar," he hisses softly, shaking his head with irritation (mostly at himself, also because she's made him think too hard). "Dear, what are you doing? You're not a statue, you're a half-elf."

@hauntedurge

[saintship]

Hey I just wanted to request something real quick and if your not comfortable with doing so don't worry about it 🫶🫶

I've been having so much dysphoria lately and I was thinking about an idea where Price had kept in contact with a trans/non-binary teenager they saved a while back and for when in times they needed help with anything Price gave them his number. So reader has been having a huge dysphoric dip and the stress of school has just been way to much on them lately so they called him up and asked for help. (Assuming reader now lives close to their base.) He drives over and just comforts them and let's them know it's okay and he'll always be their biggest supporter.

I've just been craving some good fluffy comfort with Price and again if you're not comfortable with writing this don't worry its absolutely fine. Have a great day/night 🫶

I’m back!

HI IM SORRRYYYYYYY I PROMISE IM NOT ABANDONING THIS BLOG

And to this anon, I hope you’re alright and just know my blog is a place to be you and you're so cool and rad and awesome :)

I just need you

platonic!Price & trans!reader

Some things just don’t go away. The tugging at your skin, stretching as far up and away from your body as you can, the pacing, the staring. It subsides and returns like a rough coastline, traveling everywhere all at once and yet never reaching anything at all.

It was the night you almost died, fittingly, that you truly started appreciating your own. Trapped in a dead end, several figures closing in fast. You heard their radio crackle with a message to capture instead of kill, and couldn’t process which was worse. It all seemed to blur together from then, until you were tucked into yourself, your head between your knees. You felt a hand at your shoulder, which you scrambled away from.

“Woah, hey..”

A gentle voice made you lift your head ever so slightly, seeing a face you didn’t recognize. The shapes lying still behind him proved he’d taken care of your problem.

“Are you hurt?”

Your words felt caught in your ribcage, a fluttering swarm gathering where your courage should be. You shook your head for the negative.

You simply continued to study him, his gentle eyes, the thread of his beanie, his flag patch.

“Right..” He adjusted his feet, now kneeling down fully on one knee. “It would really help me if you could come to the base so I can get you home, okay? It’s not safe here.”

His eyes searched yours with a reverence that confused you to no end. But you nodded.

“Okay..”

“Okay.” His lips twitched gently into a momentary smile before he helped you to your feet.

The base was cold inside, the walls blank and halls narrow, but he kept a hand on your shoulder from the car to his office, the warmth of his palm soothing.

He'd gotten you home safe, talked with your folks, and given you his office number after many attempts of you refusing.

"Call me. Anytime."

So you did. Most of the time, it was you who wanted to know about his life. Military propaganda be damned, with every phone call you were more inclined to hear more about him and his team, which you were both intimidated by and dying to see in person. The first time you called him for a different reason, you couldn't breathe.

"Hey, kid."

"Price.." His name caught in your throat, another wave of adrenaline shooting up your spine. Your room seemed too small, the floor too abrasive, the air too thick.

"Hey, what's wrong? Do I need to come get you?"

"No..no, I.." You huff, angry at your inability to speak. The frustration only built into the trembling of your hands.

"It's too much..everything...I'm going fucking crazy, I can't take this anymore.." Your voice cracked, and embarrassment flashed over your expression. "Price.."

"You need to breathe. Please. Open your eyes, listen to me."

You hadn't realized your eyes were screwed shut until his words encouraged you to open them gingerly, small spots dotting your vision from the strain.

"I know. I know.. listen, you don't have it easy, no question. But your life's only just started. Do your hear me?"

"Yes.."

"Good. Breathe just like that. It's going to be okay, kid, I've got you."

You breathe shakily, nodding even though he can't see you.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come outside."

You blinked for a moment before hanging up, forcing your legs to carry you to and out the front door. There he was. Sitting against one of those company-issued trucks that he definitely shouldn't be using for this. For you. But he did.

You don't bother with shoes, your socks largely protecting you from the cold pavement as you walk briskly to him. Before you can bother asking permission, he's got you in his arms, rocking you slowly.

"S'alright.." His voice is softer than it's ever been.

"I didn't mean to bother you, I just-"

"Oi. None of that." He replies immediately, pulling back to rest a hand at the side of your head. "I stayed in touch for a reason. You're a good kid, you deserve someone to call when you get like this, you hear me?"

You nod, too emotional at his words to speak without more tears flowing, before collapsing back into his arms.

"Oh, kid.." he hugs you tightly, letting you take the time to hold onto him.

"I'll always support you. With everything you want to be, and everything you go through. I'm here."

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Stages of Mamma Mia

Fandom:

AU where Catherine Johnson is Jason's bio mom and Jason doesn't know who his father is. (Jason Todd is Jason Johnson for fic reasons).

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jason Blood, Catherine Todd Mention, Bruce Wayne, Willis Todd Mention

Relationship(s): Past Catherine Todd/Jason Blood, Past Catherine Todd/Bruce Wayne, Past Catherine Todd/Willis Todd

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Mamma Mia-inspired AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Father-Son Relationship(s), Jason Todd Experiences the Five Stages of Grief

Chapter Six: SOS

As the days turned to weeks, Jason started noticing strange patterns in Mr. Blood's behavior. Sometimes, Mr. Blood would sneak out at night and wouldn't come home until after Jason fell asleep. Other times, Jason would catch Mr. Blood whispering to himself. Most nights, Jason fell asleep in Mr. Blood's chair because he was too afraid to sleep in his room. Jason usually sat in the library reading Mr. Blood's books on magic and herbalism. He pored over the chapters almost every night, doing his best to commit what he read to memory, but he never broke Mr. Blood's rule. He wouldn't dare read the words aloud, despite his curiosity. Although Mr. Blood and his rules seemed strange, Jason truly did like him. Perhaps even loved him.

One night, though, the power went out while Jason slept in the library, and he felt a pair of arms scoop him up in the pitch-black room. It wouldn't have bothered him much, except the figure didn't smell like Mr. Blood. The person smelled of sulfur and lit charcoal. Jason kept his eyes shut out of the childish fear that he'd meet eyes with a monster or a stranger if he opened his eyes for just a moment. The figure's footsteps were heavy, but they slapped against the wooden floors as if the soles of their feet were bare. The figure tucked Jason into bed and shut the door on their way out. Jason heard their voice outside his door. It was gravelly and crackled like a burning fire. He climbed out of bed and tried to listen to the words but could only make out, "The form of man." After that, he heard Mr. Blood's exasperated whisper.

"Did you have to carry him? He could have seen you," Mr. Blood whispered. Jason felt a sickness rising in the pit of his stomach.

Was there someone else in the house this whole time? Jason liked Mr. Blood, but he feared that he'd stumbled into a dangerous situation. He waited until Mr. Blood's footsteps were distant to return to the library. He was too afraid to sleep in his room and needed to think about his next move. Instead of that, though, his mind drifted to something Catherine always told him. "Children can see and feel things no one else can. That's why you have to trust your gut. You're still so brand new... You see things more clearly than I do," Catherine would whisper. He always thought she was just rambling, but maybe she was right. His instincts told him to stay and face his fears, but all logic told him to run fast and far away. In the end, he ignored his gut instinct and fled.

He snuck out the window and left on foot. He couldn't wait for his birth certificate to come or his paternity test results. Jason was too scared to ask for answers, and without those answers, he walked right into a trap.

Jason managed to get to his neighborhood while it was still dark out, and he felt someone following him. He glanced over his shoulder but couldn't see anyone unusual on his street. Unfortunately, though, the moment Jason turned around, a man rushed him from the corner of his eye, and they put something over his face while another person jabbed him in the neck. He could hear them talking but couldn't fight his attackers or keep his eyes open. His legs crumbled underneath him, and he surrendered consciousness.

When Jason awakened, he lay in a porcelain bathtub filled with milk, colorful flowers, and herbs. The room smelled of copper and made his stomach turn. Someone tilted his head back and poured milk into his hair. He tried to move, but his body betrayed him. He wished he could at least cry out for help, but he was at the complete mercy of his captors. A group of robed people in sculpted masks lifted him out of the tub and dried him off before slipping a silken white gown over his head. Then a large man approached and carried him up to what appeared to be an altar. He lay Jason across the hard surface where the smell of copper was so strong it brought tears to Jason's eyes. A robed woman walked toward him, standing over his head with an ornate dagger, and he shut his eyes. As he struggled to regain control of his limbs, he felt warm droplets of liquid strike his forehead. He opened his eyes, glancing upward at the woman as best he could as she held her bleeding fist above his face.

A man started chanting rhythmically in a language Jason was too afraid to identify. He shut his eyes and struggled to think of someplace safe.

Some glass shattered in the distance, interrupting Jason's train of thought, and a cacophony of frightened voices all joined together at once, saying different things. He couldn't open his eyes. Jason was too fearful to look. It wasn't until he heard the sound of crackling flame and the frightened voices turn to screams that he opened his eyes. He couldn't move his head or neck, so he could only see the worried face of the woman who'd bled on him and the stars in the night sky. The man chanting continued to do so as if there were no interruption, and Jason started to feel weak. His heart slowed to a near-stop, and he wanted to hold on. He tried to stay present, but the feeling was much too strong. He was dying. The lights flickered in the dimly lit room, and his eyes fluttered. Jason didn't want to die. Not like this. Not scared and confused in a nightie. The only thing that managed to breathe some life back into him was spray against his face. The chanting stopped, but it was replaced with a vile gurgling. Jason knew that was the sound of someone choking to death on liquid. He'd heard it before. He wanted to scream, but all he could manage was an endless stream of silent tears.

"Gone, gone O Etrigan! Rise again, the form of man!" a voice yelled, but it wasn't the voice Jason had heard earlier that night. It was gravelly but more human than the voice he'd heard.

A pair of arms scooped Jason's unresponsive form into an embrace, but Jason didn't know who it was. "Did they hurt you? Are you in pain?" Mr. Blood asked. Jason could hear the pain in the man's voice, but he couldn't speak.

"Jason, the boy can't speak. They must've given him a paralytic agent to keep him from—." Jason opened his eyes. Batman? Mr. Blood knew Batman?

Batman injected Jason with something, and Mr. Blood held him still in his embrace. "It's alright. It's going to be alright," Mr. Blood reassured him. He heard an object fall to the ground as Mr. Blood supported his head and smeared something warm against the nape of his neck. "I've got you now. Everything's going—." Jason let out a whimper, and it slowly built into a frightened sob. His limbs returned to him after several minutes, but he was still too weak to stand.

He could move his head enough to see the carnage surrounding him, and he released a noise trapped in his throat since the ritual began. It sounded like a scream, but his mouth was shut. "Ohno," Jason slurred.

Mr. Blood repositioned so Jason's forehead could rest on his shoulder in the boy's weakened state. "Don't look. Don't look. Just close your eyes and listen to my voice. Focus on me," Mr. Blood raised his voice over Jason's panicked whimpers. "I love you so much. I don't know what I would've—." Mr. Blood's voice broke.

"How'd you fine me?" Jason slurred.

"Magic—."

"Jason, we have to go," Batman interrupted. Mr. Blood scooped Jason up and commanded him to keep his eyes closed.

Mr. Blood recited something similar to what Batman said, and he couldn't smell Mr. Blood anymore. He could only smell sulfur and charcoal, and blood. It was everywhere. The voice of crackling fire uttered something, and when Jason opened his eyes, he glanced into the eyes of a yellow beast with red eyes and fangs. Mr. Blood was nowhere to be found. The fear and shock proved too much, and Jason lost consciousness, fainting in the beast's arms. "No thanks received for my toils/ From his reaction, my blood boils," Etrigan rhymed.

"It's a lot for a child to take in... Especially after witnessing the massacre you—."

Etrigan recited the poem to change to Mr. Blood, and Batman sighed. "Since when do you house children, Jason?" Batman questioned.

"Since I found out he could be my son," Mr. Blood answered. He carried Jason to his room and lay him in an easy chair in the corner while he lay a towel over the bed and went to the bathroom to fill a bucket with water. "Can you look in the top drawer and set out his pajamas?" Batman nodded.

"Jason—."

"If he is my son, I can protect him. I just—. I have to be more careful. I know that I can protect him," Mr. Blood whispered.

"It's not me you have to convince," Batman whispered. Mr. Blood nodded as he washed the blood off Jason's face and neck.

He whispered a spell in Jason's ear to make him sleep through the night, but only because he needed the night to think of a way to explain himself. He had to tell Jason everything, even if that meant letting him go. Batman disappeared into the night, leaving Mr. Blood to clean up and dress Jason in his pajamas. Even after he tucked Jason into bed, Mr. Blood couldn't leave his side. Everything happened so fast, and he wouldn't let it happen again. The cult would've tried to use Jason's body as a vessel, killing him in the process as they'd killed so many other children, and Etrigan was right. Jason was the only reason they tracked the cult and annihilated them. Mr. Blood would've killed them with his bare hands had he been there for most of the fight, but he was grateful to Etrigan this once for his brutality and bloodlust. They got what they deserved, and his boy—. Well, possibly his boy, was safe and sound.

[orangetintedglasses]

Finale: Kotov Syndrome

The silence that hung between them for a few long, terrible moments was tense and heavy; Vash watched as his brother's eyes filled with fear for a split second, then quickly boiled over into betrayal and rage.

"You'd dare point that coward's tool at me? After I let you keep it?" Nai nearly spat the words out, his voice penetrating the silence the same way a rock crashed through a window, making Vash's shoulders twitch. His stance remained firm despite it, eyes locked onto the other Plant's, his firearm steady and unwavering in it's position. No desire to shoot him, just... keep him there and buy everyone enough time to get out of the city.

And buy himself some time to think of an actual plan...

"... it truly hurts to see you like this, Vash." Nai said, that softness returning to his tone, almost a coo. It made his chest ache. "Those monsters have been exacerbating your sickness. They're using you--"

"QUIET!" he snarled, the sound tearing out of him faster than he could process. Vash grit his teeth and felt himself force the barrel of the gun against Nai's forehead before quickly withdrawing it, taking a step back and settling on just aiming the firearm at him, now. He'd never been this angry before.

"YOU'RE the one who's using me, Nai! This whole time, I've--" God, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about any of it-- "--I've been hurting people! I've hurt EVERYONE I care about because of you...!"

"Anyone you've 'hurt' was hurt because they interfered with your recovery, Vash." Nai replied, looking unimpressed. "It was their own fault for--"

"It was YOUR FAULT!" another crackle of energy between his teeth, this time igniting the patterns on his skin. Wisps of energy lifted from the delicate lines on the right side of his face-- wisps that took on a feathered shape that made Nai's eyes widen, face contorting with disgust.

"Look at what they've done to you..."

"STOP!" Vash's hands were trembling, now, emotions and borrowed power both rumbling in his chest like the beginnings of a storm. He squeezed his eyes shut-- he had to end this! Whatever needed to happen next, he had to do it-- and if that involved killing his brother, h-he-- no. No, he couldn't kill him, even... even after all of this. He couldn't do it, there had to be another way--

A hand suddenly touching his cheek yanked Vash out of his thoughts, eyes popping open to see Nai in close proximity. One hand on his face, the other on his shoulder, in... some cruel mockery of comfort? Or was it real? Nai's expression felt like a mask of calm and understanding more than anything, but despite that, Vash stilled under the touch-- a spark of hope fluttering in his chest, brought tears to his eyes...

"Nai..."

Thmp.

... his breath caught in his throat, and warmth blossomed at the small of his back.

Thmp. Thmp!THMP!THMP!

White-hot pain exploded in rapid-fire bursts, one by one up the trail of his spine, like fireworks.

"My poor baby brother... even after all of this, you still need me to do everything for you..." Nai cooed, pulling Vash closer to him as something else flooded his body. That familiar feeling, cold and all encompassing... spreading out from where bladed vines had buried themselves in his back. He shouldn't have let his guard down.

He shouldn't have let his guard down.

Vash would try and struggle against the connection, shrimping back and away as far as he could-- the renewed energy from Vet would be more than enough to help him fight him off --but one last vine pierced all the way through his shoulder, wrapping around his collarbone in the most literal way imaginable as Nai tightened his hold around him, blood spattered on his face.

"Don't worry, Vash. We'll fix this."

The cold spread up, up, up... blurring his mind and his senses, making him weak at the knees and lean heavily into his twin.

"I'll just have to help speed things along..."

The blades dug in further, twisted in deeper, and Vash felt himself scream.