#i don't think the dark urge is limiting or that it makes you miss out on anything i think it truly just enhances the story so much

[veilblight]

they said not to play as the dark urge for your first campaign because literally how am i supposed to do a custom origin run after this

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field III

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. this one is the arena bombing scene so yeah, regardless its not graphic so

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a/n: btw this is lowkey becoming a mix of the book and the movie so if there's inconsistencies dw about it lol, its all just a jumbled mess in my head at this point and i am for some reason working from memory

next part

"Wait! Wait! I'm here!" You call out, urging the line of mentors and tributes to wait for you before they enter the arena, running up from your father's town car with a notebook and pencil in hand.

Coriolanus was simultaneously annoyed by your arrival, delayed or not, considering he didn't expect you, and also part of him was relieved to have you at his side. Entering the arena himself was a daunting task, now that he knows that the mentors are far from safe from harm in this situation.

You're slightly out of breath as you catch up to him and Lucy Gray, panting as you adjust your bag where it sits over your shoulder. "Sorry, I'm late." You breathe out, smoothing down your hair.

"Why are you even here, Y/L/N?" Felix asks, turning from his spot in front of you to look.

"Mind your own, for once." You spit, returning your attention to Coryo and Lucy Gray. "Hey, where's Clem?"

Coryo shakes his head slightly as the line starts to move forward. "I'll explain later." He answers vaguely. You're confused, sure, but you did have bigger things to worry about. He was right. You brought your notebook to take notes on the layout, potential hiding spots, and potential advantages that Lucy Gray could exploit in the games.

"Enjoy the show!" You hear the echo from the speakers as every duo enters the arena, and you cringe. 

"That's dark." You mutter to yourself, taking in your surroundings in the tunnel before being among the last few to enter. The first thing you notice is that the arena is bigger in person than on the screen, you hadn't been inside since you were a toddler- before the war. You try and pick your family's box along the top, but it's no use. You don't even have the slightest memory of this place before the games. 

The next thing you notice is Lucy Gray holding onto Coryo's hand as the door slams shut behind you and the windows slide open above you. You grip your pencil tighter in your palm and look down, attempting to scribble down a layout on the page in front of you as you regain a light source. You have one job, and you'll be damned if you don't do it. For now, your best shot at earning Dr. Gaul's favour is giving Lucy Gray an advantage due only to her surroundings. Making her play the game.

"Okay, so, options are limited but I think we just need to have a good look around. There ought to be a good hiding spot around here." You say, clocking how quickly the girl drops his hand.

Focus is a priority, unfortunately, her comfort will have to come second. She'll have time for comfort once you can get her out of this arena and back to Twelve.

"What do you need, Coriolanus?" You ask, noticing he seemingly zoned out taking in his surroundings.

He tries to process what you're asking of him, but just ends up giving you a blank stare as you tilt your head, looking up at the tall boy. "I beg your pardon?" He asks, clearly having not heard a word you said.

"What do you need me to do?" You ask again.

"Well," He starts, and both of you notice at the same time that other tributes are talking and realize that alliances are being built. "Go... do that. Talk to Lysistrata." He instructs and you nod, walking quickly toward where is standing trying to talk to a confused-looking Jessup.

"Lyssie." You grin, flipping to a fresh page of your notebook.

"Y/N, hi." She says, clearly focussed in on trying to get him to pay attention to her. 

"Is he okay?" You ask, feigning worry. Well, if this is Lucy Gray's only option for an ally, her odds are not looking good. That was genuinely worrying.

"I don't know..." Your classmate answers, reaching up to point out a wound on his neck. "He's got this bite... I think it could be infected. Your father is a doctor, what do you think?"

"Can you get him anything to help?" You ask, getting closer to take a better look. It does look infected, and you're unsure what it could be. You raise your hand to touch his forehead in search of a fever, but you suspect you will find one considering he is already delirious.

"Y/N!" You hear your name being called and you turn, seeing Coriolanus gesturing for you to back up.

You sigh to yourself and drop your hand, taking a step back. "I would bring him something but I don't know what would help." Lyssie sighs.

"If you can get him to agree to be an ally to Lucy Gray, I can bring antibiotics. Something strong. I'll discuss it with my father, see what he recommends." You offer, hoping to buy her a friend in the arena. 

"I'll try my best." She nods. "They've been close, I can't see why not."

"I'll bring him something tonight then." You nod, patting her on the shoulder before continuing on your path of selling Lucy Gray as an ally.

You look around the large room again, looking for whoever would be her best option, and whoever of your classmates would even agree to speak with you. Sejanus- of course.

You tuck your papers under your arm as you walk over to him and Marcus. You can quickly see they aren't on any kind of speaking terms, standing awkwardly together on the opposite side of the center. "Sejanus!" You call out, and he's visibly relieved to see that someone wants to talk to him.

"Y/N." He smiles sadly, which you try and return. Empathy has never been your strong suit, but with Sejanus, you always try your best.

"I'm hoping to negotiate the terms of an alliance between Marcus and Lucy Gray." You explain and he nods, clearly unsure what to do. It would be harder to buy their allegiance, seeing as his family had more influence than yours- after all being the namesake of the prize you had dreamt of for years, and Marcus clearly has more of a physical advantage in the games than Lucy Gray.

"Uh, Marcus?" Sejanus asks, looking over at his tribute, who is blatantly ignoring the two of you. "What do you think? What would you like to do?" You admire his consideration, it must be draining when Marcus clearly couldn't care less.

"Lucy Gray would not be a threat to you. If you would take the care to look at either of us directly I would be able to promise you that." You say, taking a different approach that also doesn't work. You sigh, shrugging as you look over at your friend.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. Thank you for trying." He tries to smile and you just nod, trying to figure out who you'll ask next.

Then, your eyes land on Clemensia's tribute, alone. He looks strong, definitely the most obvious threat. Having him as an ally definitely wouldn't hurt. While it would be ideal to discuss this with Clem, your options and time is limited. He's standing nearby, just staring at one of the flags on the wall. 

"It's Reaper, correct?" You ask to grab his attention, walking toward him. He spares you a glance over his shoulder, then huffs and turns away. "I have an offer for you, and I believe it's in your best interest to listen."

He doesn't look again, but you step in front of him so he has little to no choice.

"In the case that you win, which," You scoff, looking around at the other tributes, "looks quite likely, I will send you home with enough money in your pocket to feed you and your family for a year if you agree to at the very least not harm Lucy Gray in the games. And if you help her, the deal will be sweeter." You state, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Before he has the chance to respond, not that he was going to anyway, you're being grabbed by the arm and pulled away quickly, making you stumble over your feet. "I told you to keep your distance. Not once, but twice." Coriolanus scolds you, pulling you back toward Lucy Gray, who you can see by now has been crying.

"You told me to talk to people! I'm trying to help Lucy Gray-" 

"No, I told you to talk to Lysistrata." He corrects, dropping your arm and turning to face you. All he can see is Reaper threatening to kill him right in the back of the transport truck on the way to the zoo. Reaper was dangerous- how could you be so stupid? "You are making this so much more difficult than it already is."

You clench your teeth together, clutching your notepad to your chest now. "If you stopped thinking I'm so fragile you would see that I am helping. Don't worry about me- worry about Lucy Gray." You say after a moment of thought.

Coryo exhales heavily, looking around to see who was paying attention to the two of you fighting. The echo in this arena was not doing anything to help. "I didn't mean-"

He doesn't get the chance to articulate his thoughts before there's a loud bang, making you jump and rapidly search for the source of the noise as dust falls over the room. Then another explosion, then another, and by the way the light is disappearing in a circular pattern you can tell the arena is being bombed. 

Your ears are ringing and you're now kneeling on the ground, the force of the blasts having knocked you down. You try and get up, try to make a run for the exit, only to feel an impact on your side, throwing you back to the ground a few feet away and you blackout from the hit of your head onto the dusty cement.

"There she is..." You hear your father's voice as you open your eyes slowly, blinking at the warm lighting above you. "Enough is enough." He says, and you feel a pain in your hand as he removes an IV from under your skin.

You look up at him, trying to shake off the confusion as you sit up. "Just a concussion. You were out for a few hours, if you experience any amnesia symptoms let me know, but I do doubt that will be the case."

You rub your eyes with shakey hands, nodding a little bit as your dad steps away to leave your room, where you are lying in your own bed. "Dad..." You mumble, voice hardly there. 

He stops, looking at you and waiting for you to continue as you attempt to clear your throat. "Is Coryo okay?"

"I just got back from the hospital tending to everyone. Two students died, and five tributes. Coriolanus received extensive burns and bruising, but nothing was broken. He will be fine in a few days." He affirms.

"And Lucy Gray?"

"She is alive, the tributes who didn't escape or die were returned to the zoo. A vet is attending to them, I know nothing about it." He says, already on his way out of the door.

You sigh in slight relief, pushing yourself up fully to try and get moving again. Your whole body is stiff and sore, but you push through. You have a lot to do.

Thankful for your father's home stash of medications, luckily including morphing, you were able to gather medical supplies and get your driver to take you to the zoo. You would visit Coryo later, but you know he would want you to see to Lucy Gray, and so you shall.

As you arrive, you see no such vet in sight, the surviving tributes scattered around the cage, mostly either passed out or attempting to tend to their own injuries. This could be good for Lucy Gray, who looks mostly unharmed.

"Lucy Gray." You say, motioning for her to come over to the bars. She looks over Jessup laying against a rock next to her, whispering something to him before joining you quickly, grabbing the bars between you. 

"is Coriolanus okay?" This is her first question, which you honestly did not expect.

Though you were taken aback by this, you nod. "Yes. My father said he'll be fine, I haven't been to see him yet." You explain, crouching down to dig through your bag for your makeshift medical kit of stolen supplies.

"What do you need?" You ask, searching already for the antibiotics you grabbed for Jessup.

"I'm fine." She insists, which you only confirm when you look her over. "Just a couple bruises, I live to sing another day."

You smile a little bit, relieved to see your tribute is at least in a better state than most of the others. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"Do you think Coriolanus will be back on his feet soon?" She asks, clearly very worried about him.

"I don't know." You answer honestly. "It's a good thing you have me."

"It is..." She thinks for a moment. "He said he would try and get me a guitar. For my interview, He wants me to sing." 

"I'll make sure you have one." You nod. As much as you hope he'd be up and moving by the time the interviews come around in a couple of days, you know you have a guitar sitting in your brothers room that Coryo would likely ask you to borrow anyway. "This is for Jessup, I talked to his mentor, I think this should help." You tell her, grabbing the pot of topical antibiotics you took from your cupboard at home and handing it to her. 

Lucy Gray nods, taking it and opening the steel lid, her first urge being to smell the cream inside. "Get him to apply it morning and night, be generous with it." You explain, grabbing some bandages as well to accompany it. 

"You've got a full apothecary in that bag, huh?" Lucy Gray comments, straining her head to try and look inside.

"My father is a doctor." You explain, keeping it brief. "Don't share it with anyone else. Their injuries and ailments are to your benefit. Do you understand?"

Lucy Gray just nods solemnly, looking back at the tributes around her. "I understand." She answers, but she doesn't seem so sure. "You know, he pushed you clean out of the way."

"Sorry?" You ask, brows furrowed as you close your bag, having grabbed out the small paper bag of food for her.

"Coriolanus." She clarifies. "He saved your life, I reckon."

"Oh." Is all you can manage, pulling your bag back to his place over your shoulder. You clear your throat again, the remnants of dust and dirt still affecting your voice. "Well, I owe him a thank you I suppose. I'm off to check on him now."

"Tell him I send my love, won't you? I was awfully worried." 

"I will." You mumble, making an effort to not be aggressive with how you shove the bag of food into her hands before walking off.

Your next stop is the hospital. The pit in your stomach tells you that despite your confirmation that Coryo would be fine, you're still worried as to what state he will be in when you arrive. Is he awake? Will he remember a thing? Did he really save you only to face worse injuries himself?

You're escorted to his bedside when you arrive, a small room in emergency seperated only by curtains. Tigris is sitting next to him stroking his hair gently, and he is seemingly sleeping- or still out cold. It's chillingly difficult to tell. You clear your throat to notify her of your presence, and she quickly stands when she sees you.

"Y/N." She greets you with a hug, gently rubbing your back. "Are you alright? You were there, weren't you?"

"I was." You nod slightly as you pull away, eyes once again trained on your friend. "My father brought me home to be treated there. Is he asleep?"

"Yes, just sleeping. He woke for a few moments about an hour ago, but I think he's just exhausted. Couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a minute..." She sighs, looking him over as well. She's worried, of course.

You nod, chewing on your lip. "Well, I can't stay for long, but I wanted to bring these to him." You say, once again reaching into your bag and pulling out a container of food containing some fruit and cookies. You hold it out to her, and her eyes widen for just a moment. "I'm sure he'll be starving when he wakes up, and the food here is atrocious." You try and ease her panic with a joke.

This works and she nods, accepting it quietly. "I know it's a lot for one person, but I figured you or your grandmother would be here with him. I brought enough to share." You add, implying that she is more than welcome to it too.

"Thank you, Y/N. Thats very kind, I didn't have the chance to grab anything on my way- I came straight from work." Tigris makes up an excuse, and you just nod.

"He asked about you, you know." She whispers, panic now completely replaced with a small smile. "When he woke up. You were his first concern."

You try to ignore the pit in your stomach growing and shifting as she speaks, a flush forming over your chest and face. "Well, apparently he saved me. Would have been an awful waste if that had been for nothing." You deflect, forming it as a joke.

"You are his best friend. You know that, right?" Tigris asks you quietly.

That's unfortunate, you want to laugh, but it would definitely come off as either rude or self deprecating, so you come up with something else. "Coryo means a great deal to me, as well." 

Tigris tilts her head slightly, making it more difficult to maintain a straight face. "I must be going, but if he wakes again will you tell him I'm taking care of Lucy Gray?" You change the subject and she nods.

"Yes, of course. Thank you for coming, Y/N." She says again, and you spare Coryo another look over before leaving.

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[faerunnn]

Pain.

Before we get started, i have not written ANYTHING in over 10 years, so please, bear with me. I felt the need for some Astarion angst. You getting hurt, him confessing deep and true feelings. You get the drill. Please let me know your thoughts and feedback!! It is greatly appreciated :D

Astarion x GN (dark urge) TAV

Trigger warnings: Mentions of suicide, please please PLEASE read with caution. And know you are not alone <3

Word count: 2040 (sorry it is on the shorter side)

It was cold. Dark. The ultimate void. There was nothing here, only darkness, emptiness, for the first time in your life you felt truly alone. But the void came with a certain peace. The silence is a refreshing change of surroundings. Alone at last. No more bickering, no more painful thoughts and memories, no more tadpole. It was almost like you were relieved. Was this really the blissful ending you have been yearning for? You didn't even feel like you were missing anyone or anything. It was just you. At rest. At peace.

Just when you started getting used to the feeling of true peace, you felt yourself being pulled away from it. Like you were being sucked out of the bliss, pulled back into a life you did not want to live anymore. It had been too much. There had been too much loss, and even for you, there was a limit to what you could handle. There seemed no ending to the pains, the fights, the conflict within you. A darker force urging you to walk down a path you did not want to follow. You were able to resist some of its urges, but there were too many times where you  blacked out, woke up and were covered in blood. The lives of countless innocent souls burned your hands.This was the only way out. But now you were being pulled back. 

Gasping for air, you try to lift yourself to the surface, only to realize you weren't there anymore. You were not in the water, but on land, surrounded by 6 very worried faces. Unable to properly catch your breath and too embarrassed to make eye contact, you hastily get up and try to walk away. Shadowheart wants to get up and follow after you but Gale steps in front of her.

 ‘’Let them be for a second.’’ You can hear him say to her while the sounds of their worried voices get more silent by the second. Unable to contain your feelings and emotions any longer you try to kick a big rock into the water. Angry, that you failed. Upset, that they found you. Raged, for the voices are back in your head, urging you to let off some steam in the form of a bloodbath. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you lift your foot to the rock. It is simply too large to just kick, you cry out a little as your foot makes contact and the rock simply just stays put. You drop to your knees, head in your hands in a desperate attempt to just force the voices out with all the power you have collected in your body. A soft sob leaves your lips as you realize that this is an impossible task. There is no cure lying in the palms of your hands.

‘’That rock seemed a bit too large to just kick.’’ A soft voice behind you says. You don't have to look over your shoulder to see who it is. You stay put, but rest your head on your arms while they are propped up on your knees. A small sniffle escapes your mouth as you try to somewhat calm down. You feel your tadpole squirm behind your eye. He is trying to probe your mind, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. You frown, not in the mood to talk about anything right now and block as much of yourself off as you can in your fragile state. But him being him, you know he can peak through the cracks of your already cracked walls. No matter how high you put them up. 

‘’We can talk about it, you know?’’ He says, sitting down next to you. ‘’We don’t have to of course, but this is a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?’’

You can almost hear the smirk in his tone, knowing he is trying to lighten the mood in a situation he also knows is very serious. You shrug, unable to  really comprehend a full sentence without letting your emotions take over. 

‘’I didn’t want to fight anymore.’’ You say after a few moments of comfortable silence. Finally being able to look up at him after voicing your thoughts. You are met with worried red eyes. ‘’I didn’t think i would be a valuable asset to this group, hells, to this life anymore.’’ 

He looks at you but stays silent, giving you space to explain further.

 

‘’The only thing I can think about is death. It is all we seem to face, surrounding us everywhere. No matter the situation. The voices in my head, they’re only getting stronger after each kill. Justified or not, I have way too much blood on my hands. I didn't want to contribute anymore. There was no other ending for me here anyway. We will die by these tadpoles in our heads, or by my urges. I don't want to be a liability anymore. We have been through enough, don't you agree?’’ You look at Astarion with watery eyes, but not giving in to the satisfaction of fully crying. Just letting the tears linger there for a moment. He hums in agreement. 

‘’ We indeed have been through a lot. It has not always been a walk in the park, so to speak. But there is more out there. More people who can help you, who can cure you.’’ He says while not breaking eye contact. ‘’Besides, imagine how boring it is going to be for me when you are not around anymore. I can’t imagine being stuck with the rest of them for the remainder of however long this journey is going to take.’’

 

You smile a little at his comment, breaking eye contact and looking out on the river, seeing Baldurs gate in the far distance, bright lights from bustling streets.

‘’I just wish things were different, you know.’’ You say, sadness lingering on your voice.

 

‘’I know. I wish they were different too.’’ Astarion says softly, with a small sigh.

‘’Do you think we would have met each other if this were not to have happened to us?’’ You ask out of nowhere.

“Maybe. It is a big city after all.’’ He says.

Looking back at him you see him staring at the city the same way you were just a moment ago. His white locks perfectly curled around his face, a light smile resting on his lips and his skin looking even more ethereal in the moonlight. He truly was such a beautiful being. You might not have known each other prior to the events of the tadpole but a part of you hopes you will remain in touch after all of this is over. You look back at Baldur's Gate before being caught staring at him, sitting together in a comfortable silence. The only sounds you hear are the distant fire back at the campsite and the water that is breaching the shore of the river in front of you. You enjoy the combination of soft, gentle sounds, somehow feeling a little bit more at peace. The voices seemingly have backed off out of your mind, for now.

 

‘’You really scared me.’’ Astarion says after a while, a delectable sadness lingering on his voice.. ‘’I thought I really lost you, for good.’’

You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head but you are too embarrassed to make eye contact. Your eyes lower to the sand and gravel at your feet, unable to really know what to say to that.

‘’I know I cannot take away the pain for you, but god's darling, if there was a way I could, I would in an instant. I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what situation we are being put in, I will be there. And would I risk a knife in my back when I'm asleep? Maybe. But i think if you wanted to hurt me, really hurt me, you already would have by now. This, this is not you. I know you. You are the sole reason my heart is aflame, lit up, every single day. I know this sounds selfish, but I really am not ready to let you go. And I know deep down you are not ready to let go either.’’ He turns his position and takes your hands in his. Finally being able to meet his stare, you notice his eyes are just as glassy as yours. He was being truthful. Nothing of what he just said was deceiving. Some tears roll down your cheeks as he lifts his hand and wipes them away for you.

 

‘’I am sorry.’’ You softly say. A soft sob escaping from your lips.

 

‘’You don't have to apologize. There's no need. Just promise me that you will talk to me? About anything. Anything and everything that is bothering you from this moment forward. You do not need to face these demons alone, not anymore.’’ He looks almost desperate. You nod in agreement. He gives you a soft smile and cups your cheek. Staring deeply into each other's eyes before emerging into a tight embrace. A hug so deep, one that can heal almost all wounds. One you didn't know you so desperately longed for until you were experiencing it. You cry out on his shoulder while he rubs your lower back with one hand and holds your head soft but firmly against his form. 

Lingering on for quite some time, you finally break free from the embrace. You need rest. Looking over your shoulder to the camp, you see that everyone has already gone to bed. You give Astarion a look and as he gets up he reaches out his hand for you. You take it and as he helps you up you notice your body is much weaker than you thought. Now that the adrenaline of the whole situation has worn off. You stumble into him as he catches you before you could hurt yourself, again. A small, but so much more meaningful gesture that now has a lot more meaning to it that it had before the events of tonight. As you both walk towards your tent, he has his hand on your lower back and the other is holding your arm that he draped around his shoulders. Making sure you got to your bed safely. 

When you reach your tent you try to take off the layers of damp and clammy clothes. It was not by any means cold outside, but the fabrics still clung to your skin in the humid climate. Your body not being able to put enough strength together to take them off yourself, you sigh and almost drop to your knees again, in frustration and sadness. Astarion not having left your side, catching up on your emotions and softly and oh so gently starts removing the layers of fabrics. You lean into his touch, missing it when he is not gracing your skin with his gentle touch. And then it hits you.

Safe. You felt safe. A feeling so overwhelming, one you haven’t felt in so long. One you craved for so long. You felt it, now, in this moment. And maybe have been feeling it for a while. Ever since he confessed his feelings for you, and you confessed yours for him. Ever since he started looking out for you instead of looking back for himself. Small gestures with big impacts, you never truly recognised them. Never truly appreciated them, until now. In this moment, you felt it all. The way he was caring for you, how gentle, understanding and cautious he was. He did it because he wants you to feel safe. And you do. A space he created, just for you to let your guard down. An effort no one has made for you. A gesture so big that you almost couldn't comprehend how much this man cares for you. 

As you put on your sleeping garb, you turn around and look at him. 

‘’Thank you. For everything.’’ You say with a soft smile. He smiles back at you. Genuinely. ‘’Will you please stay here with me tonight?’’

 

‘’I will stay with you every night, for as long as you will have me. Darling.’’ 

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

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

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

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

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

“I want… more,” Astarion concludes, confident and sure. “I want to be us again.”

Us. I do like the sound of that.

“I don’t know, Astarion…” You pull your knees to your chest. You want nothing more than to be his as you should have been this entire time, but what does more even mean to him?

“Why? What’s stopping us?” His expression is closed and hardened. His intonation is steady but otherwise void of emotion, “You love me, yes?”

You sigh, drop your head to your knees and try to dispose of the urge to cry. You’re scared that if you deny him while you’re here, and it upsets him…. Well, that spells the end for you. There is nowhere to hide from the sun here except perhaps the bottom of the lake. You stare blankly at the serene rayless deep and miss the consoling palliation of nothingness, hushed as the grave.

“Yes, I love you.” Your eyes don’t leave the water, reflecting the glimmer of the sky like a mirror, unable to look into his eyes for fear of losing your rational thought and jumping into his arms. “That’s not the problem.”

“Tell me the problem, and I will remedy it.” Astarion appeals insistently. His fingers brush down your arm as softly as a summer evening breeze. “Whatever you desire, I will make it yours.”

Good Gods, you need to breathe. Your chest is tight. It expands with a whistle as you inhale a sizeable breath, defying the rigour that has set into your lungs. The sun heats your skin, as pale as a pearl, yet your body trembles as if cold. You’re on the verge of falling to pieces, but you cannot allow yourself such weakness. You must be as emotionless as a stone and twice as hard.

You meet his gaze and reach out to the connection you share with him. You cannot read his emotions. He is too poised and practiced, but you can feel them if only he will allow it.

Astarion’s eyes widen slightly at the request, “No,” he shakes his head. “Not right now.”

“Why is that?” You cock your head at him with a frown, “What are you hiding?”

“No, darling. It is for you that I will not do this here. I can hear your thoughts, remember? Last time you called me the devil,” he chuckles with a smug smirk. “That would hardly upset me, but if you do think something untoward, I do not want to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no place to hide should you need to. Just tell me what is troubling you.”

It sounds like a very convenient excuse for him to keep things from me.

“Can we not just wait and have this conversation at the manor then? Will you open the bond there?”

Astarion sighs, combing fingers through his damp hair, “Yes, I suppose we could. Is it because of my- “

“No, it has nothing to do with your condition.” You cut him off, “It’s... I will be plain. I have accepted that you cannot love me, but that is what I desire. I will not be your dutiful consort, Astarion. I want something real.”

“What you’re looking to hear,” he glances away, almost sheepish. It would be winsome and nostalgic, this glimpse of his past self, if you were not worried that it’s a clever ruse, a tactical manipulation to appease your doubts. “I have said it before, you know.”

“And therein lies the problem,” you wince at the memory - “I love you. That’s what you want to hear. Isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for.” You brush your expression with bedrock, “You say it because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“No,” he protests with a twisted mouth. “I meant every word.”

“Then say it, Astarion,” you urge, praying he will. Gods, it’s what you’ve longed to hear. There’s a desolate part of you that would savour it, even if it is just a beautiful lie, and you hate yourself for being so broken, “Open the bond and say it.”

“I…I-” he trails off with a rasp and grimaces. His lips smack together, but no sound emerges from his mouth. It’s as if the words are lodged in this throat. He shakes his head with a low, pained groan. “Perhaps you are right. This is a conversation better had at home.”

He won’t say it.

Pieces fall from your heart like petals off a dead flower.

The sun is dipping below the horizon as the mare moves under you in a fluid canter with Astarion’s black gelding leading. Your hips roll steadily with the pace, and you barely perceive when Astarion pushes his gelding into a gallop. Your mind spins with questions, concerns, doubts and desires you dare not act on. His words still ricochet around your mind as quickly as the booming of the horses’ hoofs pounding the earth.

“I want to be us again.”

“I have said it before.”

“I meant every word.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you watch him from behind. Nothing is more torturous than having everything you want laid at your feet, only to force yourself to walk away. You wipe the tear off your cheek and push away the others welled in your eyes, fluttering on your lashes like dew on blades of grass.

Astarion reels his gelding around on its haunches, shifts into mist and crashes into you abruptly, throwing you out of the saddle and to the ground harshly on your stomach. The horses scatter with bucks and rears, squealing and frightened. You try to push yourself up to your feet, but Astarion presses his chest down hard on your back, sinking you into the tall grass.

Reacting instinctively, you rival his dominance as dread mauls you, “Astari-“

“Shut up,” his hand covers your mouth, muffling you.

You crane your neck, trying to get a view of his eyes. If he’s gone, that’s a surefire way to tell. Astarion studies the trees around you with an acute glare. His heart thuds so hard in his chest that you can feel it against your spine. He looks like a hunter stalking its prey, but otherwise, his eyes are the vivid crimson of his and not the matte frost you expected.

He looks down, removes his hand from your mouth and leans low, bringing his lips beside your ear, “When I give the order, you run back to the manor. You do not stop for anything or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t understand,” you keep your voice as low as his. “What’s wrong?”

“Do as I ask, and do not challenge me on this,” he commands assertively.

His expression is grim and severe as he brandishes his blade, snapping his wrist and twirling the hilt into his grip. Something is wrong, and you follow his glare to the trees, trying to figure out what danger he’s detected looming in the shadows.

Astarion leaps to his feet and hauls you up with him by the back of your shirt so fast you’re dizzy by the time he pushes you and commands, “Run!”

You hesitate. Does he really expect you to leave him here when there’s a threat nearby? Is he out of his mind? Has he forgotten who you are and the power you possess?

“No,” you shake your head, gripping the Weave. “Whatever is coming, we can fight it together like we always did!”

“I said RUN!” Astarion shouts gruffly.

“I’m not leaving you here!”

Astarion sighs, “You leave me no choice. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, you feel that presence in your head, but not in the way as if he were opening the bond. No, this time, it takes your control, wicking it out of your muscles, tendons, and bones and bequeathing it to him. Your eyes widen as all your muscles go stiff and await the incoming command.

Compulsion.

Hells, you can barely blink without his godsdamned permission. You’re trying to shake your head, to speak, to fucking scream, to get him to stop, but your body pays no heed to your instructions. The only command that matters is his, and you await it like an obedient hound.

Astarion speaks precise commands, “Run to the manor as fast as you can and stay there until I return. You will stop for no one and nothing.”

“Run to the manor as fast as I can and stay there,” the words are pulled out of your lungs without your consent. “I will stop for no one and nothing.”

Your body pivots without your approval, and you break into a full sprint, streaking through the forest like a meteor. You hurtle over fallen trees and boulders while ducking under long-limbed branches and zigzagging between trees at a break-neck pace you can’t control. Your mind chants your command in a hypnotic chorus.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

The repeating instruction is nearly all you can focus on. It drowns all other thoughts out. There’s a quiver outside that melody, the beating drum of footsteps and heartbeats. You can’t turn your head. You do not have the authority to do so, but your eyes scan your surroundings. Catching movement between the trees, you finally comprehend what’s going on.

The Gur.

It’s hard for you to focus on anything besides your mad dash, but you vaguely make out that they are stalking in the forest all around you. You strain to focus on the sounds outside of the tittering in your head, and you finally hear the sound of howling, enraged warriors and clashing steel.

No. No. Why did he send me away? I can fight!

Good Gods. It’s hard to think. Hands catch you, stopping you in your tracks, but your body is not yours. You’ve been told to run and stop for nothing, and it’s agonizing to disobey, like a million sharp nails being hammered into every atom of your being, making you cry out. You would do anything, fucking anything, to make this suffering end.

You cast Thunderwave, throwing anyone in the vicinity backward and then Fireball in quick succession almost unconsciously. You can barely focus on anything but the order to run and the pain of not doing so. You whirl to continue running, but another hunter grabs you, snarling with yellow teeth and spittle flying from his lips.

By the Gods, it hurts. You can’t think through the white-hot pain.

Clawed, furry paws grab the hunter from behind before a snout full of razor-tipped, serrated fangs sink into the Gur’s throat and rip it out. Your mind is so singularly focused you can’t even be bothered to be tempted by the blood. Hells. You don’t even have permission to smell it, so you don’t. It takes you a moment to recognize the werewolf standing before you as part of Astarion’s powers.

Will his hellspawn mutt attack you as well? It drops the hunter with a howl that would make your blood run cold if it was not already and stares at you, waiting and watching, flexing its claws and growling. Its fangs are dipped in crimson, and blood drips from its snout. Astarion must have sent it to protect you. That’s the only reason it would be here with you and not helping him.

No! Go back. Help him.

You want to scream at it, but you’re already running again with the werewolf as your shadow.

It sprints ahead and kills any hunters that aim to thwart you, but if it misses, you do not hesitate to kill. You will take a million lives if it means you don’t have to feel that pain again, you will do anything to continue obeying, and you cast subconsciously with deadly power and finesse. Even the thought of turning around and going back, of defying your orders, causes pain to slice into your psyche like hot steel. An arrow plunges through your shoulder, swords and axes slice into your skin, painting your body vivid red, yet you feel nothing but the undeniable need to comply. Your nerves have not been given the authorization to feel pain. Could you even die, or are you not allowed?

When you finally break the treeline, the werewolf trailing you sinks back into the gloom as you bolt toward the manor with a resounding, echoing bay as if it’s signalling to Astarion that its job has been completed.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You sprint full speed through Rivington, Wyrm's Crossing, and the Lower City without slowing your brutal pace. You blow past citizens who stare at you with wild eyes and angry shouts as you push past them with desperation so intense it eclipses everything else. Is this how Astarion felt when Cazador compelled him? Was he as helpless to refuse as you are in this moment?

Astarion has never compelled you before, at least that you know about. How long will this last? How far does his reach extend? If he told you to run forever, would your body run until the ground gnawed your legs into bloody stumps? What would happen if you could no longer run? Would the pain from disobeying eventually kill you, or would you be stuck in a purgatory of white-hot agony for eternity?

When you finally get to the manor and slam the door behind you. You stand stiff as a statue in the foyer. Sweat runs down your face and chest, but you can’t get your arms to move to wipe it from your eyes, and blood splashes, dripping onto the floor from your fingertips like a leaky faucet. Your head won’t swivel to look around, and your eyes will not move in their sockets, so you're stuck staring straight ahead. At least the chanting in your head has gone silent, and you can think freely, or perhaps that’s worse. Now, you can’t think of anything but Astarion, alone in battle with however many Gur. If they knew who they were hunting, which they must, they would come in vast numbers.

What was that idiot thinking? You could have helped him! He may be the Vampire Ascendant, but he’s not indestructible. Unless he is? Truly, you have no idea what he is capable of. Astarion is a force to be reckoned with, but will he lose himself in this? When he gets back to the manor which him will he be? Will you still be stuck like an effigy and unable to defend yourself? What if he doesn’t come back? Will you forever be a statue in this foyer?

Gods. You need to get back there and help him, but as soon as you have any intention of trying to move, trying to break this authority over your body, your mind warbles the enchanting tune of compliance.

Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.

Fuck! You try your magic. It glows on your fingers and even heats in your palms, but without being able to move your arms, it’s useless. There’s nothing you can do. You’re immovable until either his compulsion wanes or he gives you new orders.

With nothing else to do, your mind wanders.

You prowl the halls of the Crimson Palace looking for Astarion after escaping from the prison of your room. The air in this place is musty, and you can still smell what remains of Cazador in the rooms and halls. This place is oppressive and cold, and he’s changed nothing.

“Astarion!” You scream in a blind rage that sweeps over you like wildfire.

You round the corner and see him sitting at his desk, glaring at you with a bland, expressionless stare. You fill yourself with the Weave until you’re awash with it, and your palms are so blisteringly hot that the skin boils and blisters. Whoever this man staring at you is, not the Astarion you knew.

You should try and kill him, but you cannot bring yourself to do it. Is that a consequence of being his spawn? Is your loyalty to him poisoned, or is it love that refrains you?

Astarion leans back, “What in the Hells,” he growls, his brows pinching together in a fearsome scowl, “do you think you’re doing out of your room?”

“Astarion. Listen to me, please,” you plead. “Something isn’t right. This is not you. Why are you doing this? Why do I have to stay in my room? What happened to Aeterna Amantes?”

“Oh, love,” he scoffs with a sneer. “Come now. Did you truly believe I would ever be beholden to one person? For eternity? HA! I told you before. I am a man of enormous appetites. Don’t worry,” he purrs. “You will always be my favourite.”

Angry tears roll down your cheeks at his taunts, and you can see in his face that he takes satisfaction in your pain. Fire bursts from your palm, licking up your forearms, “The Rite changed you. This isn’t you. You were never cruel before.”

“Are you positive you truly knew me?” Astarion stands slowly, “Yes, the Rite did change me. I am a veritable God! All thanks to you. You will forever have my undying gratitude. If you’re a good little pet, I will take excellent care of you. You will want for nothing.”

A good little pet...

“What I want is the old you back!” You shout at the top of your lungs.

“You want cute, cuddly Astarion?” He laughs mockingly and then hisses with venomous contempt, “That pathetic wretch is dead. He was a miserable, weak little pest. Grieve him, for he is gone, and he is never coming back.”

"Fuck! You don’t have to be cute, cuddly Astarion, but there isn’t even a hint of Astarion left in you, whoever you are!”

Astarion is advancing on you with slow steps, and you reflexively take steps back. Good Gods. He’s herding you like an animal.

“I am the Vampire Ascendant and your creator, and you will give me the respect I am due.” His hands come to his chin, “I think you will call me Master from now on.”

“I will never call you Master!” You retort in a voice dripping with defiance. Flames twirl around your forearms like a tornado.

“I could make you,” He rebukes with an impassive inflection, “All it would take is a thought, and you will do anything I say.”

“Then do it, you fuck!” You conclude, baring your teeth. You’re sick of his threats. If he’s going to make you a puppet, you would rather he get it over with. “Go ahead, Ascendant! Show me your power.”

Astarion laughs lightheartedly, but his face is as expressive as a white wall, “Don’t be such a fucking bitch.”

Oh. No.

You cast Scorching Rays against him, buffeting him repeatedly with a sorrowful, hopeless scream. It burns him, some of his pallid skin ruddy and his clothes hang off him in tatters. Astarion lunges at you, a streak of silver lightning, and throws you to the ground, breaking the floorboards beneath you. He snarls in your face with his fangs bared and pestilent abhorrence in his numb eyes.

“Do you feel like a man, Astarion?” You spit with a wheeze, “Does throwing me around make you feel good?”

It’s barely perceptible, but there’s a meagre flash in his eyes. The pressure with which he pins you to the floor recedes slightly. He shakes his head, and it’s gone. Astarion drags you through the halls by your ankle, down the stairs, uncaring as your head smashes against each step. You grimace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out. You don’t bother to cast again as grief smothers your anger, and the flames die out along with your will to live.

Astarion tosses you into your room, your body skipping across the floor like a flat stone across the surface of a lake.

“Stay, pet.” He commands with an aloof chuckle, whirls around and leaves.

The lock clicks, and the metal bolt slides into place. Knock does not work on locks like that. It seems he’s learned your tricks.

“No!” You scream, rattling the door, “No! Please! Astarion, don’t do this.”

He does not answer.

It’s hard to tell how much time goes by. Days? Weeks? Who knows, but you’re so hungry that you’re sitting on the floor, sobbing against the door, clawing at it as if you might be able to dig your way out. Your fingers are bloodied, and you’ve ripped off your fingernails in your desperation.

“Astarion!” You wail, sobbing as your muscles jerk and spasm painfully.

He does not answer.

He never answers.

Your knees give way, and you crash to the ground, breaking you out of the memory. Astarion’s compulsion has broken, and your body is finally your own to control. You yank the arrow from your shoulder and burn it to ash.

Astarion… 

Peering around and listening closely, you surmise that he still has not returned. Pushing yourself to your feet, your muscles cramp severely and twitch, a tune of overexertion from your retreat. With the compulsion gone, sensation returns, and you feel the wounds you received with a biting ferocity. The only thing on your mind is finding Astarion, and you lunge for the door hastily. Golden rays of sunlight flood the foyer as soon as you fling it open, and you're washed in the agony of the Hells. Every nerve melts as you're immersed in rivers of liquid fire in Phlegethos. Your skin sizzles, snapping into fissures and greying rapidly.

It’s the kind of pain that makes you want to scratch your skin off to escape your body. You throw yourself back with a screech, and the pain ebbs as your skin slowly stops smouldering. Dropping to the ground, you cast Telekinesis and throw the door closed with a frustrated roar. If you cannot go into the sun, Astarion is not nearby or… Gods, you don’t even want to think about it. You don’t even want the thought to run through your mind, but it does, regardless of your restraint.

Astarion could be dead.

The only solace you have is that feeling in the back of your mind that still lingers. If he was dead, would that also disappear? You’re unsure. You tell yourself it would because you desperately need the lie to keep you sane. Reaching out to it, you try to force it open, but it does not budge, and Astarion does not respond to the request, increasing your panic further.

What can you do? You need to do something, anything, but what? You’re stuck in this fucking manor until the sun goes down. You get up and pace back and forth, rage building inside you. Why did he send you away? You’re a godsdamned terror in battle. You could have helped him, and now you’re stuck here, unable to do anything.

Fuck!

You scream as tears streak down your burnt face, grabbing a mirror from the wall and throwing it against the floor, shattering it to bits. He made you stand here like a foolish statue all night while he… you don’t finish the thought.

You can’t.

Come back to me. Please.

Things are falling apart quicker than you can piece them back together. Astarion told you he wanted you to be his, and you balked. All the reasons you felt so resolute about suddenly seem so trivial. For a year, you would have done anything to have him back, and now you do, and you’re too scared to put your already dead and broken heart on the table.

This love might kill you, but it’s not over. It was never over. It could never be over.

You chuck a vase against the wall and snarl like a wild animal. It bursts, showering the floor in a spray of glass. You cannot control your rabid emotions. You punch a hole through the wood panelling, tear paintings off it and snap them into pieces as you fall into a tailspin of misery.

You pace the hallways in a rage. At him. At yourself. At the world.

You will not lose him to whatever that thing is inside of him.

You will not lose him.

You cannot lose him.

The jagged pieces of your frenzy are strewn haphazardly throughout the manor and resemble a portrayal of what remains of your life. Everything is broken, fragmented and sharp enough to cut down to bone.

Desperate to feel close to him in some form, you run up to his room. It smells like bergamot and rosemary with a hint of aged brandy - it smells like him, and he smells like home. You inhale deeply. Grim thoughts race through your mind like a whirling flood that creeps out of your eyes in the form of tears.  Without Astarion’s heartbeat, the silence in this place is heavy and dark, like a passing cloud.

You lay on the bed, and your hand skims over where he was this morning when you woke with your head on his chest. Astarion held you all night and long into the morning. When your eyes opened, Astarion was already gazing at you with scarlet eyes as gorgeous as the heavens and as deep as the hells. His expression was warm-hearted, loving even. He looked at you like he used to.

“Well, hello, beautiful.”

He smiled, sweeping your hair out of your sleepy eyes. All the things he’s said to you start echoing through your mind.

“I missed you, you know. When you left.”

“You make me feel.”

“I could never get you out of my head.”

“I told you I can be romantic.”

“Yes, little love, true feelings.”

“My feelings for you, of course.”

Good Gods. Has he been trying to tell you he loves you through his actions this entire time? You’ve been so caught up in not letting yourself fall into another trap that you didn’t see it. You were reading random pages and not the entire book.

It ends today. You don’t know where this will end, but you know where it must start.

Curling up on the bed, you cry until you manage to push yourself into your trance because that’s all you can do.

Your hand slams into the wooden door with a force that causes it to whine. Night has finally consumed the sun, and Astarion still has not returned. When you woke, the manor was still deathly silent.

Shadowheart opens the door a crack, and her eyes widen when she sees you. She scowls fiercely, “Did Astarion do this to you!?” She growls with a clenched fist.

Did he do what to me? Oh....

“No,” you assure quickly. Your skin is still creviced and grey with red, scabbed lacerations marring your flesh. You push yourself into the house. “This was not him. He’s missing. I need your help to find him.”

Shadowheart’s magic washes over you, healing your wounds, and she takes a quick step back. She knows better than to get too close to you, but right now, your hysteria is overriding any bloodlust you might feel.

Even though she does smell delicious.

Gale frowns, “What do you mean missing?”

“We were attacked by Gur in the forest last night,” you blurt out rapidly. “He hasn’t come home.”

Gale smiles. He fucking smiles, and it takes everything in you not to slap that grin off his face. He shrugs, “Good riddance, I say.”

“I’m sorry, but I agree with Gale,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “He told me what happened. Is it true Astarion was going to kill him?”

“Gale attacked him!” You roar with a hiss, narrowing your eyes at Gale who noticeably jolts at your rough inflection. You sigh and try to calm your rampaging temper, “You don’t understand, and I do not have time to explain it right now. Without Astarion, I cannot be out in the sun. I only have until dawn to find him. We must hurry.”

Gale scoffs, “I’m sorry, but there is no “we,” in this, my friend. If the Gur took care of that monster for us, we should be thanking them.”

You knew Gale would be a longshot, especially after what happened at the manor, but Shadowheart might still be swayed but your pleas.

“Shadowheart, please,” you beg, tears kissing your cheeks once again. “I need help.”

“I don’t know...” She sighs, rubbing her face. “He’s dangerous. Why not just leave him to his fate? If he is dead, you’re free. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Not if his death is the price of that freedom,” you rasp. You clutch your chest, wishing to feel his heart beating behind your breast, to feel complete, because, without him, you are so vastly empty. “Dangerous as he is, he is my safe, Shadowheart.”

“How did you get away?” Shadowheart asks.

“He compelled me,” your voice breaks. “The idiot compelled me to leave.”

Shadowheart arches a brow and purses her lips, “Does he compel you often?”

“He’s never compelled me before,” you groan at the memory of your body betraying you. “Astarion told me to leave, and I refused. It’s the first time he’s compelled me, and it was to get me away from danger. Stupid, foolish imbecile!”

Well, it’s the first time he’s compelled you that you know about, but alas, she doesn’t need to know that.

Shadowheart looks you over and you’re not exactly sure what she’s looking for, but she finally nods, “Okay. Give me a moment to get ready. I will help you look for him.”

“You cannot be serious, Shadowheart!” Gale says hoarsely.

Shadowheart sniffs and waves dismissively, “We have all had our demons, Gale. Astarion is no exception.”

“He killed her!” Gale shouts. “He turned her into,” Gale cringes with a gesture toward you. “This.”

Gods, you’ve had just about enough of everyone blaming him for your choices, and you step forward, “I wanted to be turned into this,” you hiss in contempt. “Astarion did not force me. I’ve told you this time and time again.”

Shadowheart gives your arm a light tug, pulling you back, “I will help you look. Perhaps it would be best for you to wait outside, and Gale,” she scolds with a sniff, “I expected better of you. Gods know you reached for unfathomable power, and you would have taken it in a heartbeat.”

The air is crisp in your lungs. Shadowheart was right to send you outside. There is no time to participate in an argument right now, but you will have to return and speak to Gale and Shadowheart eventually to sort this out - if it can be sorted out.

Shadowheart joins quickly, dressed in her armour with her spear slung across her back and a pack around her shoulders, “Let’s go,” she nods. “How much ground do we have to cover?”

“We were on the outskirts of the forest when they attacked. It’s not a substantial distance, but it’s not close either. We will have to hurry.”

You can run endlessly since you don’t require air, and you bolt ahead of Shadowheart to scout the way. Your body is sticky with sweat. It rolls down your temples like a stream from your pores. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is a welcome distraction from the woe warping your heart.

How had the Gur known where you were? Someone must have tipped them off, but who?

It doesn’t take long until the air smells of sweat, death and old, congealed blood, and you can at least follow the scent. The forest is eerily soundless, with only small streaks of moonlight as pale as ghosts streaking through the dense canopy. No animals scurry. No wind blows. No insects chirp. Only the sound of your feet crunching over the forest floor.

Mutilated bodies of Gur, werewolves, and hundreds of bats litter the earth in a carpet of flesh and gore. The ground is a blood-stained dark maroon and squelches under your feet as you slow your pace. Your mouth drops open as you look around, astonished at the number of bodies. Terror sinks into you, and you start pulling on bodies only to uncover more underneath. Heaps of dead in unfathomable numbers. Hells. You listen for a heartbeat but hear none. You choke back sobs. There’s no way he could have survived this, and you hate him for making you leave.

Your ears twitch as they catch the sound of twigs breaking behind you. If it were Shadowheart, she would surely make her presence known. You whirl just in time for snapping fangs to miss your throat as a werewolf lunges. You cast Gust of Wind and send it reeling off its feet. It stands snarling, but it’s gravely wounded, with a sickeningly large festering gash in its belly. You don’t know if this thing will listen or if it can even understand you, but you must try.

“I’m a friend.” You put your hands up but are ready to cast should this prove to be a futile attempt. “Your master’s friend.”

Its ears flick and twitch around as it listens. It sniffs the air and makes no further move to attack.

“Take me to him,” you instruct as commanding as you can. “Now.”

Its lips pull back to reveal rows of sharp teeth and growls, but it turns and plods away unsteadily. You don’t know if it’s just decided you’re not a threat or if it will take you to Astarion, but you pursue it.

The number of bodies dwindles the further you follow, with only a few scattered here and there like dead leaves shed from the trees. Sliding down a steep incline, it finally turns to you, ears flattening against its head, drooping at the tips, and points its disfigured paw with a melancholy whine.

You scramble forward, eyes skimming the ground, and finally see Astarion lying motionless on the rust-coloured earth, painted with blood and gore. His ivory skin only peeks through between the cracks in the drying crimson veil sheeting his body. Countless wounds mar his flesh, some superficial and others that make your stomach twist in your belly, threatening to spill its contents.

You flop to your knees and shake him vigorously, “Astarion!” Your voice is a screeching pitch that could shatter glass, “Astarion! Wake up! Please.”

He does not wake or rouse. He’s cold, deathly cold like he used to be. Leaning down, you put your ear to his chest and try to stifle your loud sobbing so you can listen. You hear nothing. His chest is as silent as yours, seized by the dominion of death. Touching his cheek, you scream shrilly into the night, lamenting your pain to the heavens.

Shadowheart.

You don’t want to leave his side, but you pull yourself away and charge with renewed vigour until you catch Shadowheart’s scent and the hammering thud, thud, thud of her heart. You nearly crash into her in your haste.

“Hells,” She jumps, grabs your shoulders to steady you, and sees the inconsolable look on your face, “What’s wrong?”

“I found him,” your knees are rickety. The only thing keeping you upright and from hurtling off the edge of collapse is the need to return to his side. He can’t be dead. He can’t be! “I think… Gods, I think he’s dead, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart’s mouth drops open in a gasp, “Show me.”

Sliding down the slope, you dive to Astarion’s side, hands coming to his face, sweeping your thumb across his frigid cheek. Shadowheart drops to her knees with magic already glowing on her fingers. The colour drains from her face, leaving her as pale as you, awash with horror at the grotesque sight.

“Hells below,” she mumbles. “Is his heart beating? Does it usually beat?”

She knows your hearing is sharper than hers, “It usually does,” you falter and place a splayed hand on your chest. You glance at her and shake your head, “It’s as still as mine.”

Shadowheart casts and her magic sinks into Astarion, but he does not stir. She tries again, and again, and again, increasing the strength with every successive round with no result. Astarion does not so much as twitch a finger or muscle.

You shake him again, screaming into his face as your tears fall like raindrops splashing on his cheeks, “Don’t you dare think about leaving me! Please... please, don’t leave me alone. I need you, Astarion.”

Shadowheart’s cheeks are red, and her eyes brim with shiny tears. She gives you a look of regret, and you know what she’s thinking without her even saying it because you’re thinking it, too.

“He can’t be...” you choke as you fall to pieces.

“I’m sorry,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her face contorted in sorrow, “I’m so sorry.”

You fall forward onto Astarion’s lifeless chest, blanketing him with your body, and you scream, guttural and ear-splitting as continuous as the stream of time.  

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

I'm releasing this chapter earlier than I usually do because I've finally had some time to sit and do nothing but write (my favourite), but that means it may push back the release of the next chapter. It will depend on how work and life go this week.

Apologies, darlings. For the cliffhanger.

[daisybianca]

pairing: sebastian vettel x femalereader

summary: you were an innocent, average 21 year old girl who was madly in love with the German boy with those adorable, blue eyes. the only problem remaining and keeping any possible affair between the two of you totally forbidden: you were also his best friend's beloved and dearest daughter.

warnings: swearing, dirty talking, mentions of sexual activities, forbidden romance

YOU BOWED YOUR head, viewing your black high heels in shame. "I-I..." The words refused stubbornly to escape from your lips as Seb's intense blue eyes pierced into yours, reading your soul, but fortunately and luckily enough, not your thoughts.

"Just tell me, (y/n)." The paparazzi were just a few feet away. Any wrong move and you would be in multiple magazines' front cover in a instant.

Gosh, he looked extremely fine in that suit.

The urge to call him Sir and tell him to rip your red dress off wouldn't allow you to sleep peacefully in bed later. You were sure of that.

"What happened, angel?" His face expression read I'm worried about you. "Did anybody hurt you?" He insisted, pushing you to your limits.

You couldn't talk to him face to face this morning. Last night's events had rooted in your mind. You just couldn't do it anymore. You were willing to confess everything that had been torturing you this whole time.

"Seb, I'm so sorry- I truly am. I didn't intend to--" Sebastian's rough hands grabbed you gently, his right one from your wrist, while the other one found the delicate spot of your waist. His thumb caressed the surface there, burning a hole, as he guided you somewhere more privately. In a hidden place behind the parking lot, which was full of empty luxury cars.

When you arrived there, his hands let go of you and you instantly missed the warmth, craving his touch more than anything.

Just like last night.

It was hot out here in the darkness of this area. Even though your dress didn't do much to cover up your entire body, the scorching temperature didn't fail to make you sweat and nervously blush like a 14-year-old school girl.

"Okay." Sebastian started talking. "I'm really worried right now. I don't know what happened, but you'll have to tell me, otherwise we'll be stuck in this parking lot until the sun rises. I swear to God, (y/n)." His lips transformed into a thin line, as his eyes found the sky, praying that your confession wasn't be something too serious. Because if anyone dared to lay a hand on you without your permission, or hurt you in any way---Fuck, he could sense the rage coming out of him just at the thought of it occuring. That person was so fucked. "Please, tell me, angel." His German accent emerged out and his hands cupped your cheeks softly.

You wanted to cry because you knew damn well he had every right to yell at you.

He was so out of limits for you. And at the same time, so irresistibly desired.

"I did something last night." You could feel Sebastian's thumbs dancing across your burning skin.

"Tell me." Grabbing your hand, he kissed it, abandoning his wet spot there.

He had always been good with you, given that you were his dearest friend's beloved and only daughter. But things changed when you grew up and moved back in the country. Having a crush on him at a young age was something everyone thought was cute. Now it had evolved into something extremely bigger, though. You couldn't deny it.

"Please, don't yell at me." You closed your eyes tightly, afraid of the possible outcome of your confession. "Even though I think I'd yell at me if I were in your shoes right now."

Muffled sounds came from the massive building behind you, but fortunately everyone was in it and not out here.

"I would never do that." He spoke the words and pushed a long curl behind your ear.

It'd be better if you just kept the secret for yourself in the first place, you thought. However, the weight of it hurt your innocent soul and you wouldn't be calm unless you confessed it to him.

"I pleasured myself," You bit your lip, your voice barely audible to the blond-haired man before you. "...thinking about you." A tear was so ready to roll. Sebastian's eyes darkened as he walked a tiny step away, obviously surprised. "I swear, Sebastian, I didn't want to- I just-."

"You touched yourself at the thought of me?" His grin began to form, confusing the words in your head and not letting them flee. "(y/n), did you touch yourself last night while thinking about me?" He repeated but didn't gain an answer once again. "Fuck, I-" Seb scratched his beard and turned around. Facing his back and a perfectly-ironed black blazer, you crossed your arms on your chest.

Sebastian laughed and turned again to face you.

That would be a hell of a long night.

When his eyes met yours, a hot tear slipped, not having the energy and willingness to hold it back anymore.

"No, no, don't cry, love." Rushing to you, he hugged you and time seemed to stop for a single moment.

"I freaking hate confessions." You cried in his neck as he held you there.

A few seconds passed and then Sebastian forced you to look at him again by grabbing your chin with his thumb. "Can I make a confession too?" He asked and you looked up at him. "In order to make you feel a little better?"

You tried to laugh at your father's best friends words. "Nothing can make me feel better, right now, Seb."

He titled his head, lowering his neck to approach you even more. "Well,... let me try at least. Okay?" His lips almost touched your forehead and you could sense his hot breath and the familiar and alluring cologne just a few inches away. "What if I told you I've done this multiple times before?" A breath was captured in your lungs.

"What?" You legs felt wobbly, your breath unsteady.

"It's hard to distract myself when I pass by your father's house almost every day of the week, with you being there too." Shivers were sent down your spine and lower body. You couldn't believe what he was telling you. "You don't know how many cold showers I have to take when I arrive home at nights, (y/n)." Seb said and collided with yours, filling the kiss with indescribable lust.

And that was the moments when you realized you wanted him so badly.

He craved you too. Surely more than you did--if that was even possible--even though he knew nothing should happen between the two of you in a romantic way. He knew that since the moment he saw you for the first time a few months ago, when you came back from university.

But his love for you was forbidden and he risked his life for it. He risked his bond and unique friendship with your father just so as to steal a single kiss from you.

"I'm willing to break my rules for you, angel."

●○•°•○●

requests are always open for my wags <3

[heeracha]

ep 52. / alternative ending. — the one with y/n staying with jay even after the line ended.

end of the line. — p. jongseong

synopsis: thinking it was a hotline for people who just need someone to talk to, jay calls. but why did a clueless student answer? with jay’s phone call has a time limit, you, the clueless student, insists on staying with him until the end of the line.

pairing: jay x f!reader

content/genre: college au (wow shocking), slowburn, fluff, angst and crack, smau.

warning(s): tell me if i missed something !! major character death. car crash. pure angst.

note: here's the playlist <3 lowkey didn't want to post this bcs this is fucking sad. but you guys know the drill. if you don't want to get out of the happy ending of the series, don't read this. this is just an alternative ending, you don't to read this. anyway,,, vv last update of eotl. thank you for reading wsjbjdfk <3 also,, @prdxxxinvasion 's idea so everyone say thank you elidi !!

last chance to back out. read the warnings first.

“thank god things went the way it did.” heeseung says and jay laughs, shaking his head. “god, you were so scared to even just say a simple hi to her. and now, you’re more than confident to propose.”

heeseung holds out the velvet black box and jay smiles, taking it. he opens it, the bright diamond ring smiling at him and he closes it as he looks up to his best friend. “thanks for keeping this for me.” jay says. “and for everything else.”

“of course,” heeseung says as jays puts it inside the pocket of his blazer. “i’m really happy for you. you deserve this.”

“yeah?” jay softly asks and heeseung nods. “i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her.” jay admits and heeseung smiles.

“you should keep going then. it’s already getting dark and you have to pick y/n up, right?” heeseung asks and jay hums. “good luck. don’t lose your voice.”

jay laughs, nodding. “thanks again.” he says as he grabs the keys, going out of heeseung’s apartment. jay gets in his car, turns the ignition on. he pats the velvet box that was inside his blazer to make sure it was secured before pushing the handbrake down and starting driving. 

he had never been this happy. he was as happy with you as he was broken when he met you. he believed that you really did save him. you truly are his angel. ever since he got a taste of not being with you, he did everything to not let that happen again.

jay slows down at a red light, fingers drumming on the wheel as he waits for it to turn green. when it does, he steps on the gas.

that was the last thing he remembered before he opened his eyes. everything was hurting. he looked up to see his windows cracked, his head feeling like it’s splitting. he was panting. 

what the fuck happened?

someone ran on red light.

jay looks up to see the other car right on his door. everything was hurting, but he grabs his phone and unlocks it, dialing your number. his breathing began to become heavy as he waits for you to answer. unlike before, he didn’t have to wait that much. you answered right away.

“hi, honey. are you near? i’m going down now.” you say and jay closes his eyes, resisting the urge to grunt. but you heard his heavy breathing. “honey, are you okay?”

“y-yeah,” jay lies. “bubs?”

“yeah?” 

“you’re with me until the end of the line, right?” he asks. just like what you told him the first time you talked to each other. when you two finally got together. always with him until the end of the line.

he answered, he’s with you even after the line ends.

“always, jongseong.” you softly answer. “forever.”

jay smiles and you frown. 

“honey, is everything all okay?” you ask.

no answer.

“jongseong?”

none.

“honey, you’re scaring me.” 

ambulance.

“jongseong, what’s happening?” 

all you heard were people throwing demands here and there and what they should do, how they should do it. 

“hello?” someone unfamiliar answers.

“hello?” you answer.

“ma’am, are you related to the patient?” 

“patient? what patient?”

“the one you were talking to.” 

silence.

what the fuck happened?

“yes, he’s my boyfriend. what happened?” you questioned, your free hand coming up to your lips as you start to bite on your nails. something you did when you’re anxious. something you haven’t done in a long time ever since you and jay got together.

“your boyfriend got into an accident, ma’am. he was hit by a driver who ran on red light.” they say and you feel your tears pool, streaming down right away. you didn’t want to ask more, but you could hear the people behind trying to revive him. but no matter how much they try, all you can hear was the long tone of the heart monitor.

jongseong, please.

until everything went silent. all you could hear was the ambulance.

“i’m sorry, ma’am.” they say and you feel your heart drop. “we did everything we can.”

then the call ended.

you grab your keys, running down to your parking area as you drive right away to the hospital jay was brought. tears were streaming non-stop, but you didn’t care. all you wanted was to get to him. you parked, running inside immediately as you ask for your boyfriend. 

you run to where they told you he was. 

he was there.

his body covered and you feel a sob bubble down your throat. the nurses look at you as they see you. “ma’am, are you the girlfriend?” one of them asks, probably the one that talked to you. you nodded, not having the strength to speak up. “here are the stuff he had with him. we’ll give you alone time.”

and they went off.

you wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. you wanted to go to him, shake him, but you just can’t move from your spot. this wasn’t planned. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you let out a breath and you look at his things, going to it as you see a black velvet box.

you opened the zip lock, grabbing the box and opening it. 

you could have been in the restaurant jay booked for you two. you could have been crying for a whole other reason. it could have been tears of joy. but no, the universe had other plans.

you were wrong.

you stayed with him even after his line ended.

[slxsherwriter]

Let the Games Begin

Fandom: Death Count

Pairings: The Warden x reader

Word count: 2, 090

Warnings: Mentions of non-con surgery, death, injury

Author's Note: Honestly, I don't know what this is or where it came from. Was sort of just possessed by the idea. For the few that have watched the movie. Hopefully, you enjoy!

The poor lighting was just the kicker to the entirely poor set up. While it was nothing new, it never made it easier to deal with and most certainly always made the time limit almost impossible to meet. Biting the inside of your cheek, you forced the needle through the skin, moving both as quick and carefully as you dare. One mistake with the little hair sensitive triggers on the devices and it would be the last thing that you ever did.

“One of these days, one of these assholes is going to wake up in the middle of this and cause a whole load of trouble for the both of us.” A low chuckle was the response, sound simultaneously dark and amused. One that demanded attention, urged you to have your eyes pull away from the careful task that you were carrying out, but you managed to ignore it. By the skin of your teeth.

“With that skill that you have? It's hardly something I am worried about. For your peace of mind, however, I have plans in place, doc.” If there wasn't some level of trust in the man that was mulling around behind you, you wouldn't have been here at all, partaking in this. With precision and care that came from years of practice, you managed to cut the last suture, leaving the small tail of line outside the body.

“I'm not actually surprised by that statement. Flattered by the compliment, but not surprised that you had contingency plans in place.” Leaning back, you observed the clean line of sutures with a critical eye for just a second longer. By the seventh and eighth individual, your hands cramped a bit, and your eyes were feeling the strain. But you were finished. Your back cracked as you straightened, a satisfying pop that relieved some tension.

“Good work, as always doc.” James appeared in your peripheral as you were tossing the sharps and your bloodied gloves away. Admiring your work and the action was enough to spark a sense of pride. As twisted as that was. Funny to think that this wasn't what life was always like. Helping out mass murders and criminals had once seemed like too far-fetched an idea to entertain. Yet, here you were.

It was only when you had tossed the remaining tools in your small bag that you turned your full attention to James. The man was mostly dressed for his little game, simply missing his mask. A rare occurrence even outside the games, something that you had come to learn over the last several months. He was lifting the last body up and over shoulder for placement in the room, making the action almost seem effortless. A sight that you had come to appreciate more and more as you spent an increased amount of time with the man. More so than most of your other clients.

“Besides, you really think that I would let anything happen to you?” You were pulled out of your wandering thoughts about the man in question when he spoke. Blinking, you were quick to shake your head so that he didn't suspect that you were too lost in thought. Thankfully, muscle memory had guided you through the clean-up process, so you hadn't simply been standing there like an absolute idiot.

“No, no, I don’t.” Which was a genuine response. If it was within his power, you really didn't think that he would let anything happen. His keeping you safe was what had brought you closer together in the first place. A memory that wasn't worth bringing up this very second.

“There you go.” As if it was as simple as that. Which, really, perhaps you should just accept as something simple. Absently washing your hands, you openly observed James for a long second this time. He was leaning against the doorframe to the room, arms relaxed as they lay across his chest. Watching you the way that you had been watching him. Not another word was shared as the typical clean-up process was continued. There wouldn’t be all that much time before his victims woke up and the games began. Something that you did your best not to stick around for when it could be helped. Not that you didn't have the stomach for it at this point, but it wasn't particularly something that you enjoyed. What little time off that you were able to get after such tasks was better spent grabbing some food and heading home to relax.

“The passageway is clear for you to make your way out.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Got everything you brought?”

“Yeah, all packed up and ready to go. Need anything else before I head out?” He shook his head, not giving a verbal response. At least seven people were going to die tonight, and you had a hand in that. Something that should have bothered you more than it did. But that was what this line of work brought. Never would you have thought that life as a trauma medic would bring you into the world of criminals and serial killers. Yet, here you were, blood on your hands. It was only figuratively at the moment, but seconds ago, quite literally too.

“Stay safe tonight, yeah?”

“Always do.” Out of everyone that you had met in this little fucked up life that you had craved out for yourself, admittedly, James was the most careful. Rare was it that he needed serious help from you. More often than it, it was a need for some simple sutures for a wound just deep enough to require them. Or the need for some disinfecting and a bandage. Bag tossed over your shoulder, you were already thinking about where to stop for food as you passed by, only stopping when there was a soft touch of warm fingers to your wrist. “You get home safe.” There was something else on the tip of his tongue, which made you wait a few moments longer. A timer on his wrist went off before whatever it was could be spoken aloud, the moment entirely ruined. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand from your wrist. Giving him a smile, you slipped from the doorway and followed the familiar path upward, through some winding hallways and staircases towards the main floor and ultimate freedom. Maybe one of those that you had worked on would be following the same path, maybe they wouldn't. Not a thought to focus on since it was entirely out of your hands.

****************************

The next day came about with no necessary plans or tasks to handle. A rare day off where you were free to do what you wished. Which meant, you opted for a little bit of a sleep in. Something that abruptly ended when the door slammed open, bouncing off the opposite wall with a loud thud. The sound was enough to jolt you from your sleep, heart beating wildly in your chest. No one was in your room, evident as you wildly looked around. A crashing sound came from the hallway, signaling more trouble. Shit. Shit! Scrambling for the gun that you had been gifted, you managed to find the cold barrel as another crash echoed out.

The work that you did occasionally brought trouble. Never to your home, only to the space that was used as a makeshift treatment slash surgery suite that was paid for by someone else that used your services. To have someone in your home was disturbing and terrifying at minimum. As you carefully cracked the door open, you heard a pained groan echoing out through the hall. Not a sound that you would have associated with someone breaking into the home to harm you. Silence would be expected. So that you would not have been able to tell where they were.

Waiting for another few seconds, straining to hear anything else that would have come. But there was nothing. No more movement, no more pained groans, nothing. As quietly as you could, you opened the door the rest of the way. You gave it another pause. Still nothing. Okay, you could do this. Letting out a slow breath, you began to move through the house.

A familiar lump of black and glint of silver appeared around the corner when you entered the living room. James was sprawled out on your couch, face a bit bloodied and clutching at what was likely a wound that needed immediate treatment.

“Jesus Christ….”

“Hey doc. Sorry to drop in…” Ignoring the attempt at being more lighthearted than the situation called for, you were setting the gun down and moving back towards the bathroom to grab whatever supplies you had here. Which, unfortunately, wasn't a whole lot but should have been just enough to properly patch the man up. No questions asked about how it had all happened or what had gone wrong between when you left and this morning. He wouldn't be likely to tell you anyway.

“Just…stay still. Let me see how bad it all is.” Focus, you needed to focus. Easier said than done when woken thinking someone was breaking into your home to kill you. A steady breath and settling down on the table beside the couch helped you work towards that. “Is there anything besides the two areas that I'm seeing?” You were going to have to take the mask off to get a better assessment of the wound on his face. Really, the metal should have protected that half of his face, but things didn't always work out that way. He was here, in your home, laying bloodied on your couch after all.

“No, nowhere else.” For a second, you doubted the sincerity of the answer but ended up taking it at face value since you needed to be focused on figuring out how he was wounded and the best way to treat it. “And no, no one followed me here either. Made sure of it.” Admittedly, that had been the very next question you had been ready to ask. Though, it was a rather logical next inquiry so it wasn't surprising that he had the response ready. You nodded.

“Good. Gives me time to properly patch you up then.” Fingers grasped the edge of the mask and hesitated for only a moment before getting the okay from him. The slash wasn't terrible but would require some sutures to be able to heal properly. It would scar but hopefully you could manage to make sure that lasting result would be minimal.

“This isn't too bad.” Before you could handle that, you had to assess the other. The one that you guessed is more serious than what you had already seen, given the light blood flow from between fingers. “Gonna have to get a good look at that before we figure out how we tackle getting you as good as new, James.” The set of his jaw spoke to the level of pain that was being experienced at the moment. Slowly, his fingers peeled away from his side. The wound was obvious and not good looking, causing you to suck some air between your teeth. It was not good and probably required more than what you had here but you would have to make due. Take care of it, the mantra repeated in your head, then you can run out for more supplies.

“I thought you said that I didn't need to worry about you,” you hummed out as you worked on carefully pulling away the cloth that was stuck to the wound. Gloves be damned at the moment. Getting it treated was primary. A pained little laugh came from him, a hand raising to brush some hair from his forehead. Sweat lined that space at the hairline itself. “I'll give you something for the pain in just a minute okay? I'm sorry. I know this can't feel good.”

“It's fine. Just….” He shook his head. Another little laugh. “Funny that it took this to get myself to your home.” Now, that caught you off guard. Your eyes shot upward from the wound to his face. He was serious. Giving you a half a smile, as if to say what of it, he laid his head back down and fell silent so that you could work. Right, work, you had to close him up. Pushing back the thought so that you could focus, you pulled on some gloves to wash out the wound.

“Don't think we are talking about that statement.”

“Wouldn't expect any less.”

[misshoneyimhome]

Push the button |  Frederik Andersen

Tags: gentleman!Freddie; Frederik AndersenxReader;  Warnings: Pure lustful behaviour; 

A/N: I miss my husband; in "celebration" og Freddie's happy relationship ❤️ may your life be filled with love & joy (or I will hunt her down);

-

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missing Don't have to think about it, I wanna kiss and Everything around it, but he's too distant I wanna feel his body, I can't resist it

*

Frederik Andersen always had a talent for getting lost in his work. When he was deep into his tasks, whether it was training rigorously or gearing up for a match, he had this tendency to shut out the world around him.

There wasn't much room for other thoughts in his head.

Yet, strangely enough, he managed to occupy a prominent space in your thoughts.

Freddie was, in your eyes, almost like a god. His fiery ginger hair and rugged scruff gave him an extremely attractive, almost otherworldly appeal. His very tall, muscular, Adonis-like physique only added to his charisma. Yet, beneath that striking exterior, there was a calm and mysterious demeanour that drew you in.

Every time you found yourself in Freddie's presence, whether it was after a game or at a team gathering, you made a conscious effort to drop hints, hoping he'd finally take notice. You dropped hints of all kinds, hoping that one of them would catch his attention. Yet, it always seemed as if he remained oblivious to your subtle signals.

Your deepest desire was simple yet profound: to feel his lips against yours. 

You yearned to share those subtle butterfly kisses along the curve of his neck, or to tenderly kiss away any bruises he might have acquired during a fierce game. And you couldn't help but fantasise about trailing kisses down his chiselled, toned abs, savouring every moment of intimacy that you could only dream of.

The irresistible urge to have his body pressed against yours was a constant struggle. Yet, Freddie always appeared so distant, as if he existed in a different league altogether. It was as though the gap between your desires and reality was an insurmountable chasm, leaving you hungering for something that felt just out of reach.

Freddie remained oblivious, and in all fairness, your hints weren't exactly straightforward either. You mastered the art of keeping a controlled expression on your face whenever you were near him. You dressed impeccably and aimed to appear effortlessly casual, even though you knew you'd put in a lot of effort into your looks whenever you anticipated his presence. Striking that balance between catching his eye without appearing too obvious or desperate became a delicate dance you were determined to perfect.

Freddie's unwavering politeness and his deep respect for women and their boundaries only made him more irresistible. He was the epitome of a true gentleman, never pushing limits or crossing lines that could be deemed too risky. As you engaged in conversations with him, whether brief or extended, you patiently waited for that magical moment when he might finally see you in a different light, when he might realise the depth of your desires that had you going wild inside.

So, you made a firm decision: you wanted to have him. 

You wanted him to catch on, to see the desire burning within you, and you were determined that one day, you'd find a way to have your intimate moments with him, to turn those fantasies into reality.

**

An opportunity presented itself one fateful night when the team gathered at a dimly lit bar before the season was about to begin. The lads were comfortably ensconced in the dark booth, and you, along with a few other girls, decided to make your way to the dance floor.

You were on a mission, no doubt; to show him what he's been missing out.

You strutted your sexy ass, flaunting intention; hoping to draw him into your new dimension.

Your allure, it had him in apprehension - Ready to take action, and end the tension.

Your moves on the dance floor didn't escape Freddie's notice. His gaze was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. 

The snug little dress you wore accentuated your every curve, intensifying the glamour of your figure. Those vibrant red heels added an extra layer of captivation as you gracefully swayed your hips, exuding confidence, and sheer enjoyment with that pretty face of yours.

After a couple of songs, you decided to take a break and made your way to the bar. And Freddie wasted no time in leaving his seat to follow you. Seizing the chance for a private moment, he positioned himself next to you at the bar, and the two of you exchanged glances and subtle smiles before he finally broke the silence.

"Having a good time?" he inquired, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

You nodded, your heart racing at his nearness. "Absolutely," you replied. "And you?"

Freddie mirrored your nod. "Yeah, it's nice to let loose and have some fun during the off-season."

His smile had you utterly captivated, and a wave of desire surged through you. Yet, you managed to keep your cool, sharing a light laugh with him, all the while craving for something more.

As Freddie stood there beside you at the bar, his presence was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You sipped your drink, trying to maintain your casual composure, but the chemistry between you two was undeniable.

You leaned in slightly, your voice low and sultry, "Freddie, I've always admired your dedication on and off the ice. It's pretty inspiring."

His eyes met yours, and a hint of surprise flickered in his gaze. "Thanks," he responded, genuine appreciation in his voice. "I guess it's just something I've always loved."

Encouraged by his response, you continued, "You know, dedication can be quite attractive. It's one of the many things that make you so intriguing."

Freddie's lips curled into a more pronounced smile, and he took a step closer. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone dropping slightly, hinting at a growing connection.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Absolutely. But there's more to me than meets the eye, too."

As the night wore on, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You shared stories, laughed, and exchanged glances that spoke volumes. It was as if the tension that had once separated your desires from reality was slowly dissolving.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit bar seemed to intensify with each passing moment. You couldn't ignore the magnetic pull between you and Freddie, the undeniable chemistry that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.

But Freddie, ever the gentleman, maintained his composure, offering a polite smile while keeping a respectful distance.

Shortly after, Sebastian interrupted, informing that everyone was about to leave. 

And once outside on the street, you made another attempt to drop hints by positioning yourself close to Freddie.

In his signature gentlemanly style, Freddie extended an offer, "Would you like me to walk you home?" You responded with a sweet smile, nodding in agreement.

The stroll through the late summer night was pleasant. You both enjoyed the warm air, with the streetlights casting a soft glow on the streets of Raleigh as you engaged in an engrossing conversation.

When you reached the steps by the front door of your apartment building, you summoned the courage to invite him in.

To your delight, he accepted your invitation.

As you entered the lift together, the anticipation was unmistakable. You stood side by side, almost touching, as you pressed the button for the 10th floor.

Soft music played in the background, setting the mood, and Freddie's restraint finally gave way.

"Fuck it," he murmured, unable to contain himself any longer. He pulled you close, pinning you against the lift wall in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

[tasteofthedivine93]

The Beauty of the Beast - Messmer x F!Reader - Elden Ring Fic - Part 3

TasteOfTheDivine // Masterlist

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57094387/chapters/145285753 (Chapter 1) Fic Rating: Explicit🌶️🌶️ (Chapter: Teen) Category: F/M Fandom: Elden Ring // Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erd Tree Relationships: Messmer x F!Reader // Messmer the Impaler x F!Reader Warnings: None Words: 2587

MASTERLIST // <- Part 2 // Part 4 ->

AUTHOR NOTE:

I wanted to name the snakes. I decided since our pretty boy is dressed in ancient Greek style toga and dress, I picked Greek. Now I don't know Greek, so I used google to give me the words for snake/serpent and it came up with Φίδι = Fídi and όφις = Óphis (ancient Greek?) So that's what I'm going with. If anyone speaks Greek and I'm completely wrong. Let me know. Their names won't be used a lot but still wanted some accuracy.

You quietly exit your room a few hours later, the moon still high in the sky but the morning dew and frost starts to coat the grass and leaves outside. You listen out for any movement, but the castle remains silent.

You stroll down the corridor slowly, making sure to make no sound. You wander back to the main hallway and down the stairs. You consider making a run for it, but you know it's a fate worse than death. Despite that timid moment the two of you shared, Messmer still scares you and you're frightened.

Instead you explore downstairs, you try a few doors out of curiosity to find them locked. You gaze at more stained glass windows, men with similar red hair and thick builds, a young man with golden hair, a woman with similar red hair and a missing arm. Are these the gods from the other world? You ask yourself. Shaking your head at your lack of knowledge, you continue your exploration.

In the back of your mind, all you can think about is the basement and why it's off limits. You don't want to, but yet again you find your feet walking to a nearby turret with stairs going down into the dark. You pick up a lone candelabra and venture down the cold stone stairs.

The smell of dust invades your nose, there are no windows to be seen.

You finally hit the stone ground, walking down you feel a soft carpet under your feet. The small light in your hand offers no help, but you move on.

At the end of the hallway, another large wooden door, this time engraved with symbols of the Golden Order and what looks like the Shadow Tree but different. You've heard stories of a distant land and their own tree, An Elder Tree? No, Erd Tree that shines brightly.

Pushing the doors, inside is a lone room with a large carved stone statue of a woman, holding a babe in arms slightly hidden behind a pair of dusty curtains.

You place down the candle and pull back on the rope, revealing the statue. You gasp as you notice the babe in the arms also have tiny snakes - 'that must be Messmer' you ponder to yourself

You tilt your head and wonder if this was his mother. Queen Marika? Your brain suddenly remembers her name, she's been missing from the lands for centuries, barely remembered. You remember being told tales of wars from centuries ago, when a Queen commanded her son to destroy the people who harmed her. Was that Messmer? 

The back of your mind itches, as if someone was trying to invade your thoughts. "O, mother" it whispers. You feel the urge to kneel before the statue, you feel a warmth in your chest as you bow your head and open out your arms.

Not more than a second later, you feel yourself flying backwards, you land hard on your back on the floor, wind being knocked out of you. Above you, Messmer stands, veins glowing red under his skin.

"I did warn thee never to cometh down here!" he snarls at you, pulling the curtains back in front of the statue.

You regain your breath, "I didn't mean any harm, I felt like, I was meant to come down here." You scramble backwards on your hands once again. His comrades slither around you, lightly hissing and baring their sharp fangs.

"Please, stop!" You beg, you cover your face with your hands.

"LEAVETH!" He drops to his knees, flames start to grow around him, the snakes on his back turn and hiss at you again, eyes glowing golden, sharp fangs drip with lava. Messmer looks up at you, face angered and glowing red. "GET OUT!" He cries again.

You scramble to your feet and run up the stairs in the darkness, however the glow from Messmer is strong enough to light the way slightly.

Messmer pants and begins to breathe uncontrollably. He curls into a ball on the floor, head in his hands. He rakes his long fingers and sharp nails on his scalp, calming himself down. He feels the smooth scales of his snakes rub on his arms. He shivers and lets out a sob.

Despite being out of breath, you run down the hall, pass the vivid stain glass windows and out the large front door. A strong blast of snow and ice blurs your vision, you didn't realise it started to storm. You blow your ring-whistle and your Torrent Steed appears, neighing and bucking at your panic. You and Torrent ride into the snow, your fingers already turning to ice, but you push through. Your heart is pounding and your eyes leak tears.

Torrent rides into the nearby forest that lead you here, but the pathway was obscured by snow, the poor steed runs frantically around, trying to not fall from any unseen ledges or cliffs. However, you are stopped in your tracks as a pack of wolves surround you both. Growling and snarling, you try to guide Torrent away but you're enclosed. You find a break in the pack and Torrent rides off, however the pack chases you.

Torrent jumps over a log but lands horribly and you fall from the steed to the cold hard ground, rolling in the snow. Torrent, scared for his life, vanishes back into the ring, leaving you. The wolves surround you, you feel your life already flashing before your eyes. You stand, legs shaking and try to run but it's no use. You crouch into the snow and cover your head, accepting defeat.

However you hear the road of flames and the warmth of them behind you. A war cry echoes as you turn around to see red-hot fire fly through the trees and land near the wolves. They welp and cower, a few run away. You see a snake snap at one of them, another fireball charring a nearby tree. You cover your eyes from the bright white flame, as you're dragged backwards by a wolf, tugging at your cloak. You scream, kicking at the creature. A snake appears out of view, knocking the wolf off its paws and into a tree. An arm reaches around your waist, hoisting you up into the air. Another flame flies past your head, the heat burning your cheeks.

The wolves growl and bark and one bravely lunges at you and swipes with its claws, instead Messmer lifts his arm to shield you and its sharp claws catch the ashen skin of Messmer, who's blood drips into the snow below. He loosen his grip causing you to fall from his grasp, but the other snake catches you and guides you softly to the ground.

A few more bolts of fire blaze amongst the trees, the smell of smoke and charcoal invade your nose. You watch as the last few wolves yelp and cower and finally run away. You turn to look at your savour, your eyes meet Messmer's who cups his torn arm, blood dripping through his fingers onto the snow. He pants heavily and finally flops to the ground. The snakes around him also pant and flop lifeless into the snow.

You turn away from him, bringing your ring-whistle to your lips ready to blow and ready to run but you stop. A pang of guilt hits your chest. You turn back, seeing the man passed out in the snow. You reach down, brushing back his damp hair from his face. He looks soft when so peaceful.

You sigh, knowing you cannot abandon your savour. You ask yourself why did he save you?

You push away those thoughts for now, instead you reach into the pocket of your cloak and pull out a Memory of Grace, the only one you have. You wanted to keep it in case you wanted to return home, however you had no way of getting the pair of you back - your Torrent wouldn't be strong enough to carry Messmer.

You take in a deep breath and squeeze the golden light in your hand, a bright white light surrounds you both. You close your eyes tight, and press your face close to Messmer's to also shield him from the blinding light.

You feel your stomach flip being so close to him, you notice for a brief moment how red his lashes are, a few freckles that litter his cheekbones, your stomach flips at his beauty. But you ignore those feelings. Closing your eyes tight, you feel the warmth of the light. Your stomach flips as you're transported from the cold and snow.

Opening your eyes, you find yourself back in his charred chambers. Your face was still close to his, so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. In return you felt your own cheeks flush, that warmth returning to your stomach.

You carefully move away from him, you eye his wound on his arm that is bleeding. Wincing at the mark, you leave the man to find water and cloth.

While gone, Messer opens his eyes and jerks up his head, shocked to find himself back in his chambers. He thought for a moment that the encounter outside was just a dream, till his muscles and the wound of his arm told him otherwise. One of his companions nudges his cheek and flicks out their tongue.

"Are you okay?" Fídi speaks in his mind. He ignores the snake, turning his head away in shame.

He rose to feet, shaking. Slowly he moved to the hearth and he lit a fresh fire, sparks flying from his fingertips to the wood. Dropping to the floor, he absorbs the heat. His ears pick up as he hears you scurrying back into the room, hot water and cloth in hand.

Both snakes turn to look at the door, they nod at you and drop their heads, curling up together by the fire to rest.

You see him sat by the fireplace, eyes fixated on the fire. Carefully you tiptoe over to him and kneel by his side. You reach out to the pair of snakes first, as a gesture of kindness. You hesitate, hand flexing before you pet one.

"Fídi and Óphis" Messmer mutters and points to them gingerly. You move your hand from Óphis to Fídi who vibrates under your touch. Their scales and smooth and silky. You smile. You see Messmer out of the corner of your eye shiver also, shoulders tensing upwards.

You furrow your brows, curious if he can feel the touch of the snakes also.

Leaving the snakes, you return your attention to his wound. You dip the cloth into the water and gingerly go to clean his wound.

"This might sting a little." You mutter, just enough for him to hear. Your throat is sore from the screaming and bitter cold air.

Instead he pulls away, rumbling in his chest.

Instead of obeying, you shuffle forward and try again. He moves once more.

"Hold still!" You snap at him, voice a little louder than even you anticipated.

He turns to you, looking a little shocked by your stern tone of voice. He tilts his head up, looking down his strong nose at you and lets out a puff of air. He moves back towards you and you press the hot rag to the sore marks.

He lets out a yelp at the pain. "That hurts!" He snaps back at you. You flinch back, feeling heat radiate around him and his veins once again shimmer under his skin. Fídi and Óphis raise their heads at the yelling, staring at their master.

"If you hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much!"

He twists his mouth, scowling.

"If 't be true thee hadn't hadst runneth hence, this wouldn't hath happened!"

You scoff at his remark, rigging out the rag once more.

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!"

The snake's heads flicker between the pair of you as you yell back and forth. Messmer opened his mouth to retort back but left speechless. He lets out stuttering noise as he tries to find his words.

"Well, well, well."

You drop the rag into the water and fold your arms at him.

"Well, thee shouldn't has't been in the basement as I did request," he tilts his head at you, squinting his golden eye. You feel a twinge of guilt at his comment, it's true, you shouldn't have been snooping and sneaking around. But you also felt controlled to do so.

You feel a small tint of blush on your cheeks and chest for being caught. You shuffle on your knees.

"Well you should learn to control your temper."

Fídi and Óphis nod their heads at you in agreement. Messmer turns and scowls at them next. They bow their heads and turn away. Messmer huffs again. You hold out your hand, hoping he would accept your help. Instead he stays stoic and frowns at you.

Getting frustrated at his mood, you reach out and take his wounded arm without asking, pulling it towards you. You see his eyebrows raise at your boldness, how easily you touch him without fear. After a moment you see his face soften at your touch, his lips part and you swear you see him shiver.

"Now hold still, this might sting." You look up at him staring at you, and you feel your pink blush grow hotter under your skin. You press the hot rag onto the wound and he hisses at the pain, turning away.

Gently you clean the wound and wrap it tight with a fresh cloth. You flick your eyes up to his softened features as they tenderly watch you work delicately over his wound. You quickly return your gaze downwards. Messmer notices you watching him watching you. He inspects your face, how you twist your mouth when concentrating, that small line between your brows as they furrow. You flick your eyes back up again and catch him staring at you. He quickly looks away embarrassed. Fídi and Óphis look at each other and squint, mouths curving into a smirk. You notice the serpents out of the corner of your eye and return their smirk and break the tension.

"Thank you." You mutter first. You pat the bandage as a sign you're done and Messmer retracts his arm back, cradling it with his other hand, inspecting your talents. Tilting his head at you again.

"For what? I shouldst be thanking thee." He runs his long fingers over your work. He was impressed. He wondered about your background, where you learnt such immaculate skills.

You pet the snake pair, who settled back down for sleep, once before, before picking up the blood stained rag and water bowl and stand up, slowly exiting the room. You turn back to him.

"For saving my life." You smile softly at him, eyes lined with tears of gratitude. Before he can reply, you swiftly exit the room.

Messmer feels his shoulders drop, the weight in his chest lighten and he blushes this time. He reaches out towards you, but you're already gone. He looks at his sleeping companions and sighs, dropping his head.

"Thou art most welcome." He mutters. Once again he gingerly touches his bandage, were your fingers last touched and he sighs, thinking about your truthful remarks. He lets out another huff of air and smiles at your bravery. 

Behind the door you wait, you hear his answer and find yourself smiling.

[ranastro]

Self-help Observations #1

Please take what is relevant to you and useful, leave out the irrelevant things because this is personal experience and observation.

If there is something that strongly motivates you and urges you, reminds you in your stomach, in your thoughts and in your mind, it is a sign you should reconsider your worldview if it is wrong with what your heart really tells you, even if it goes against the times, the media, advertising, and the opinions of your family members.

Everyone has a different journey, so don't ignore the signs telling you, maybe your higher-self, or ancestors, divine forces (if you have faith) are reminding you.

For example, the media in some countries have some standards for women's beauty and limits men's preferences, some differences with the majority around you will make that person feel uncomfortable. lonely and lost, but I'm here to sit with you and tell you that it's completely okay, people who set their own standards about other people's appearance are also using strings to tie themselves. them, your health and peace is what matters.

Many people often feel pressured by the lights of others, for example, famous people of the same age, or billionaires,… they feel guilty and have low self-esteem and at that time they don't have those things and have can have long-term confidence that their future will be the same. That's a wrong belief and an incorrect view, it's because I haven't seen the darkness of those people, everyone in this world has suffering but because of their career they need to hide those things. their own, they promote a good image to benefit themselves and others as well….

There are segments where it is often at that level and maybe when you try to follow your own higher calling, when you look back at your own time, you will see even those who are considered famous. Fame and success on screen also have something that they keep hidden from anyone

There are many singers who joined the entertainment industry too early, so many people have shared that they feel sorry for not being able to experience their time in school… We often feel small and lacking. Poor and imperfect with those in authority such as parents, schools, social scales, but everything changes and nothing is fixed.

If inside you want to be a vegetarian, be a vegetarian, want to follow a certain religion (be careful with the sect you follow because there are many evil sects that will make you miserable and stuck), verify them first. when planning to do it.

Wishing you the best, always having good conditions to support you and enough will to achieve!

(If you believe in karma, please continue reading, otherwise please continue scrolling to the next idea)

There are blessings and bad consequences you have sown in previous lives that you will receive and suffer in this life, it can happen at different stages of this life. Therefore, fairness can be said to be difficult to happen if in this life, practice living with gratitude and learn to receive and give, depending on each stage, you will suffer and receive good things.

The planning method that I often use with myself is:

Determine your desires and what you are motivated to do, have a purpose to use that result

See if it is possible at the present time, can you complete it yourself or do you need someone else's help (this can change depending on the situation)

If you can't do it now, you can consider whether you can do it in the future and put it aside, don't think about it anymore to focus on other urgent, more important things. If so, estimate the time to complete it. Maybe it has a certain schedule such as class schedule, exam schedule, work schedule, project completion schedule,… then consider from the present time to that point. How much free time will you have to do that and incorporate the 2nd step

If there is an existing roadmap for it, try to see what each milestone corresponds to the level of requirements that need to be achieved to avoid missing important and necessary ideas to move forward; See where your abilities and level are and what you can do and how to do it to choose the time to study and how to study effectively for yourself.

It is also important to consider the situation because not everything will go according to the plan you have set out, there may be better or worse things that come your way, helping to speed up the process or not. process interruption, so there also needs to be flexibility for the old plan

Combine concentration (avoid distractions by unnecessary forms of entertainment) and appropriate rest to avoid overload and body fatigue and exhaustion.

When you complete something or succeed in something, there need to be many good factors around you that support you to get there, so it is impossible to achieve success alone. All merit is one's own, say thank you and be grateful, appreciate the help, giving and efforts towards people, situations, yourself, spirituality or Even your pets at that time.

Then review the entire process to see what is necessary and suitable for you and what are the limitations and difficulties at each stage to find solutions to that problem, thus improving your progress. Plan and execute more effectively. Wishing you luck, convenience and success

This is just a document for you to refer to, I hope you will have a way to do it and make a plan for yourself.

This is just a document for you to refer to, I hope you will have a way to do it and make a plan for yourself.

(will be updated)

[jslittlebirdie]

Temptation and Desire

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x Reader

Summary: J has been away from you for too long and your feelings for him have built up. You're waiting for the moment to finally give in to your desire. If only he would let you.

Word count: 1,202

Genre: suggestive / fluff

Warnings: J being a bit of a tease; heavy kissing/making out; innuendo at the end of the fic, but nothing explicit

Notes: This is pretty much the first time I've written something like this, so I'm admittedly pretty insecure and nervous😅 Also, if there are any warnings missing, please tell me and I will add them promptly. Thank you very much.

Again, a very big thank you to my best friend @fan-of-pretty-much-2-much for inspiring, motivating and encouraging me and for this wonderful title🥺💜 You're just always such a big help and support in so many ways! I love you so incredibly much! Thank you for everything😭

Taglist: @ajokeformur-ray @sacredempressnatlyia @rommies

It was dark in the living room. The old floor lamp that was standing to your right was the only source of light in the small room. You sat next to each other on the sofa in silence. J was tinkering with one of his devices - you weren't exactly sure what it was, but you guessed it was one of those remote detonators he often used in his businesses.

But there was a tension in the air that was almost tangible. Or at least you felt tense, somewhat on edge. You couldn't concentrate on the book you had started to read. The sparse light made it hard for you to make out anything anyway. A prickly feeling spread throughout your body, a knot forming in your stomach. It was the first night in three days that J had returned from his work, and you had missed him. Missed him a lot.

You couldn't help but shift your gaze from the printed words in front of you to him. You watched as his gloved hands worked. It was a fascinating sight, and like many times before, you wondered how and why he had acquired these deadly abilities. But even more fascinating was his face. It looked almost ghostly, the way the white paint was illuminated. The way his prominent features were accentuated. And the way his tongue popped out every now and then to lick his lips in concentration. His lips…

Of course, he had noticed how you were staring at him. He had to hold back his grin. It wasn't the right time yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed you and whispered, "What are you thinking, doll? Hmm?" His tongue darted out once again - making a soft smacking sound - as he licked across the scar that parted his lower lip. Your eyes followed this quick movement as if hypnotized, and the urge to grab him by his collar and kiss him hard became almost unbearable. "No, wait. Don't say it. I'm sure I know what you're thinking."

He put aside the small screwdriver he had been working with and tilted his head. He blinked at you with eyes that seemed to devour you with such intensity that your knees went weak and your mind dizzy. Then he moved closer to you. He reached out to take the book from you and place it on the coffee table, and you let it happen. So full of eager anticipation were you. What would he do? Would he give you what you were longing for? But of course he wouldn't make it easy for you. He was a tease. He loved to play with your little emotions, test your limits, and stall you until you were literally begging for him. But in the end, you always got what you wanted - what you both wanted. That's exactly how it would be this time too.

He leaned towards you until the tips of your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel his warm breath on your skin. His closeness sent a pleasant shiver down your spine and caused goosebumps to spread. Your fingers twitched as you moved your hands upwards. But he grabbed both of your wrists with a much larger stronger hand, preventing you from touching his face.

"J..." you murmured in frustration, trying to free your hands. You weren't in the mood for his games. You longed for him. You needed him.

But his hold on you only tightened. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a devious grin as he noticed your reaction. "A-ta-ta. No. I know what you want. But first it's my turn, toots."

He came closer to you. So close. You could feel the soft cushioning of the sofa at your back as he placed himself over you and gently but firmly pushed you down, trapping you with his body beneath him. You tensed, but at the same time you were like putty in his hands. Your eyes widened as you watched him bare his yellowed teeth like a feral animal and then use them to free his hand from his leather glove. His fingertips slowly traced along your jawline - way too slowly - then over your lips. You had to swallow hard, your mouth going dry. He teased you, driving you out of your mind. Your cheeks flushed, your breathing quickened, and the knot in your stomach tightened even more. J chuckled when he noticed. But he wasn't done with you yet.

He brushed your hair aside to expose your neck. His sinful lips wandered over your skin and breathed feather-light kisses on it. Until he reached the sensitive spot just below your ear. There he sucked and nibbled until he left a dark purple hickey that he adored - he loved marking you as his and only his, and purple really suited you well. You squirmed under him, you could barely stand not being able to touch him. You wanted it so badly - you wanted him so badly. You couldn't suppress a soft moan. And so did his name escape your lips, it sounded more desperate than you had intended.

He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath between clenched teeth, and closed his dark-rimmed eyes. A deep growl rose in his chest. Even though he didn't like it, he was growing impatient. "Say it. I want to hear it."

"Please, J..."

"What was that? I can't hear you, sweets." Even though he was getting impatient, J was a man with an extraordinary amount of self-control and discipline.

"I... want to touch you, J." Your face turned redder, if that was even possible. Blood rushed in your ears. "I want to kiss you."

He hummed in satisfaction and then finally released your wrists, but not without giving them a final squeeze. Your gazes met and you lost yourself in his dark brown eyes, which sparkled mischievously and hungrily. That was the moment when the knot inside you snapped and you couldn't hold on any longer. Quite contrary to your usual rather reserved and shy nature. You cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs stroking the jagged scars along his cheeks. The skin was soft under your fingers and he shuddered at your touch, which only encouraged you more. You needed to feel his lips on yours. Now!

It was a wild, passionate kiss full of raw emotion. Teeth clashed against each other. Your hands left his cheeks and you buried them in his slightly greasy and tangled hair as you tried to pull him even closer to you. And he granted you this favor. All too gladly. You felt him smirk against your lips - amused was he by your sudden outburst - but you didn't care. All that mattered right now was that he was with you, that he was safe. That you could feel him.

And if he was honest, he felt the same way. Even though he might never say it out loud, he had missed you too. Three days without you had been too long. Way too long. There was a lot of catching up to do. And this was just the beginning of a long sleepless night.

[loth-wolffe]

Do you think we could get “ i guess somewhere along the way, i fell in love. and i don’t know how it happened, or when, but… “ with Rex, please? I read a really heart breaking fic with him last night and could just really use something sweet and fluffy with a happy ending. If not, totally fine! :)

@generaldumbbitch kindly asked: could i request rex x jedi reader with the prompt “I've been trying to talk myself out of it." "Then talk yourself into it."

Do I wanna know?

(if this feeling floats both ways)

Pairing: our precious blonde captain x jedi!reader.

Word count: 1,6k not proofread you know the drill.

Warnings: mutual pining and yearning come with their own warning. this is a lil bit of a slow burn I think ?? the use of sir is neutral in this house. mentions of rex touching himself 👀 but nothing explicit okay it's a safe space here.

It wasn't usual for Rex to get injured, but it hasn't been one of those days where he got minor scratches, maybe a few dark bruises here and there but most of the time he has been untouched.

Today, though, war has been rougher than usual, a deep cut was found on his side that he doesn't know how he got, face covered in small, little cuts and he could still taste the blood from his split lip.

Which had led him to you, in a way, as he looked for supplies he ended up finding you, and in your stubborn nature you had offered to help him clean his wounds, with a racing heart and fluttering butterflies he had no option but to let out a rushed "yes sir."

After properly applying bacta on his side, you take extra care with his face, skilled hands softly pressing the wet cloth on the wounds. He doesn't hiss, nor shows discomfort, only flinching occasionally, as if he was too familiar with the feeling, too used to the pain it brought.

Amber eyes find you sometimes, as he takes quick glances he hopes you don't notice. He takes a good look of you, the way you bite your lip in concentration, your furrowed brows, how your hair looks, the little necklace hanging from it's hidden place under your robes.

"Is there something on your mind, Rex?"

Sometimes he forgets you're a Jedi, a General, his superior, when he has you so close, this close, and when your hands brush together when he hands you whatever, his heart beating loudly in his ears, mostly when you touch him, your hand on his shoulder or back, on his forearm or waist when you pass by and to move him in the slightest.

He forgets the most at night, when he thinks on where else you could touch him, in how your lips would feel against his, your hands exploring his body and his name falling from your lips in a state of delirious bliss. Shame crawling back into his mind right after as he remembers again who you are, always out of his limit but he can't find it in himself to stop, not when you look at him like that.

"Nothing, General." He finally admits, a lie he hopes you don't sense but you do.

Pulling back to assess him, he already misses you, you give him a look, one that tells him you're not impressed.

"No need for formalities, I have already told you that." You give him an easy smile, one that feels like melting his insides and turning into a puddle.

Only you have the power to leave him nothing but helpless. He's not sure he hates it.

"Sorry, Ge–" your pointed eyes make him chuckle, quickly changing the rank for your name. You give him your most charming smile and he's left hypnotized, sucking a breath when you lean over again, going back to tend his wounds.

He's got it bad for you.

"So?" You ask, in the simplest of murmurs, as if speaking any louder would break your concentration.

"So?" He echoes, confused, warm eyes never leaving you and when your eyes meet, he blushes slightly.

There's something about the intimacy of it all that leaves him this I don't know what in his chest that makes him feel like a cadet all over again.

"The thing you want to tell me, what is it?"

"I don't–" There is something in your eyes he feels drawn to, magnetized by the color of your irises and the emotions they try to shield from him. Rex sighs, he knows there's no way around this, and he wonders if this was your plan all along, to corner him somewhere and casually urge him to confess. "I've been feeling something," he eventually mumbles, eyes looking forward to the door, he's not sure he wants to see your expression.

There's this little mhm that leaves your throat, and he can see from the corner of his eyes how your attention falls in the cut on his forehead. Your eyes flicker to his.

"I wanted to ask you..." he thinks, if you feel the same? "for an advice." He doesn't wait for you to answer, already knowing you're willing to help him out, like you have always been. "There's this– someone." You stop your movement, surprised for a moment and he finds that your unreadable expression makes him anxious.

There's no turning back now.

"And I'm not sure they feel the same, so I've been trying to talk myself out of it, and–"

"Then you should try to talk yourself into it."

You sound so sure, he's sincerely surprised. He watches you go back to the task at hand, the cloth trying to remove the dried blood from his skin.

"You think?"

"We need more love in the galaxy Rex, there's been too much pain these days to stop ourselves from feeling anything but something that resembles it, don't you think?"

He frowns, taking in your words and he supposes you must be right, you're a Jedi, at the end of the day, wiseness is something you have by default, isn't it?

"I guess."

There's a silence that follows, where it's just you working and the rumble of the machines. It's not awkward, per se, but it's not as comfortable as it was when you first begun.

"It's you," he says after a while in the most casual tone possible. He's got nothing more but his life to lose.

You take a step back, looking at him with confusion written in your face, and his hands are shaking with all the emotions he's trying to put at bay. He can't take it back. Not now. He's never been one to stand down from a fight.

"I–" he clears his throat, "the one I have uh, feelings for. I guess somewhere along the way, I fell in love." He finds your eyes, and there's nothing in them that calms him down. He panics, an awkward cough leaves his throat and he feels his neck and ears burning. "With you. And I don't know how it happened, or when, but I, I, I do."

Before he gives you a second to react, he's already standing up, probably opening the cut from his side with the action.

"I apologize if this is too unprofessional, I should probably head out and–"

"Wait," it's a whisper, and it could be humiliating the power you hold over him if it wasn't for the excuse in the back of his mind that reminds him he was bred to follow orders. "You don't want to know what I have to say?"

He hesitates, torn between wanting to know, if the gentleness in your tone and the barely-there smile you're giving him is something to go by, or not wanting to know for the possible consequences of whatever answer your might give him.

If you don't love him back, he doesn't think he'll be able to live with it, much less with how close you and his General are, always working together and Maker, Cody is never going to let him hear the end of it.

But if you do, he could be court martial if anyone finds out, but that's nothing compared to you being casted out from the order. He knows their ideals, he has heard enough from the Commander, you could be torn away from everything you know. He's not worth it, he knows. Compared to everything your life is, he's nothing.

Yet, he nods.

You walk towards him, closing the distance that separates you, Rex wishes you didn't, he can never think straight when you're so close, hence the predicament he finds himself in.

When your hand cups his cheek, he flinches, he has never felt anything close to soft against his skin, always the end of someone's knuckles, the steel of some droid, the heat of a blaster shot. Never something so tender as someone else's hand, slightly calloused by the arduous training of the art of holding a lightsaber and the constant firmness in your grip that these unrelenting times need you to have.

Your eyes fall on him, analyzing his expression that lays so vulnerable in his face when there's nothing that helps him mask it, he seems timid, and like he was about to brace for a punch that never comes.

"You know," your voice serene, warm, and he doesn't understand why, how in the middle of all this, buried in corpses and hands dripping with blood you still find a way to shine so bright, to illuminate a path for him in the chaos of everything and anchor him back. "If you weren't so ready to sprint back to your quarters, I could tell you that I'm in love with you too."

"You are?" You smile, warmed by his naiveness, and he gulps when he sees your eyes flickering to his lips.

"I thought I was obvious," you try to explain, the amused glint in his face warms his cheeks, "I've been flirting with you since I met you, Captain, what took you so long?"

"You were?"

You chuckle, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth, a peck, soft and sweet for him to crumble down at your feet. He feels light-headed and you have barely done anything.

"Are you going to kiss me, trooper?"

He nods, licking his lips with anticipation, taking a moment to learn by heart the gleam in your eyes, and the little marks of your face, and the shape of your lips, and everything that makes you, you.

Rex smiles lightly, closing the gap between your bodies with a single step, his own gloved hands cupping your face.

"Sir, yes sir."

taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @rowansparrow @queencousland101 @dagobahbound @huntersbandana @kavecika @paige6768 @thetiredtoad0-0 @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @smoldjarin @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @amaryllis23

[pars-ley]

Bare yourself (part three)

Pairing: CEO Jimin x female reader

Summary: After a serious hack from your office building, fingers start being pointed but in which direction is the right one and where will that leave you and your boss, Jimin?

Genre: CEO au / smut / angst / series / workplace au / strangers to lovers au / boss/employee au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Phone sex / Masturbation m and f / Police interrogation / Explicit language / CEO Jimin

Word count: 3.5k

Beta: @erotikkook thank you!

Notes: Ok, so this took me a ridiculously long time to finish, life is manic but here's the next chapter. Thank you for being patient. Hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @jungkooksbroski @unoriginal-username15432 @yoobikook @vonvi-blog @itsohhonney @kpopnoobsstuff @namyoongles @btsmosphere @autumnbear @ownthesunshine @btstista​

"Miss l/n, we know the hack came from inside the building. All I want to do is find out who's responsible. Which means I need your cooperation." Detective Kim Namjoon peers at you over the frames of his dark glasses. 

"And like I've said, you have my full cooperation. I cannot tell you anything more than I already have." You respond leaning forward on the table, desperate for him to believe you.

He slumps back in his seat and sighs. "Miss l/n, we can't keep doing this back and forth routine. I-"

"Sir, I love my job and I love this company," you interrupt. "I also think very highly of my boss, I. Would. Not. Do. This."

"How high?"

You freeze at his sudden change of questioning. "What?"

"How high?" He repeats. "Is something going on between you two?"

You straighten your back, looking at him through narrowed eyes, feeling the rock of a lie settle in your stomach and weigh you down. "Mr. Kim, I am a professional."

He puts both his hands up in surrender. "No offense intended ma'am. It's just that some of your other coworkers seem quite smitten with him."

You almost roll your eyes, knowing you were probably just as dreamy eyed as your co-workers but too proud to admit it.

"Oh, and they did mention the two of you cosying up at a recent work party."

You resist the urge to swallow as your heart pounds violently inside you, panic squeezing your pumping organ in a vice grip. You thought no one had noticed your exchange or your absence when you both left.  

"We were talking, yes. He offered me a promotion and wanted to discuss it."

He looks impressed. "Wow, what a good opportunity, he must trust you a lot."

"He did." 

"Until this?" He scrubs a hand over his smooth face and you nod.

"Um-hm. What would you say you could hack into?"

You frown, not understanding the question. "Sorry?"

"Could you hack just about anything?"

Thinking about it you shrug, "Most things I'd say."

"Even something as impenetrable as this program?"

You laugh. "Sir, I designed the security portion of this program, I wouldn't need to hack into it." You lean forward again. "Let me explain something to you, if I were to do something like this, I would have been in and out without anyone knowing. I would know how to cover my tracks without being detected."

You pause rubbing your temples, "If you ask me, this was done by someone with a limited knowledge of hacking and computers. Either that or this person is trying to frame someone in the company. They're your two options."

He smiles at you, two dimples forming an endearing crevice in his cheeks.

"They told me you were smart."

You rub your face ignoring his remark. "I have been here for hours. Am I free to go or are you going to charge me with something?"

"Just one more question. What were you doing last night?"

Your heart stutters before pounding guiltily against your ribcage, with every beat you're almost sure you can hear Jimin's name. Ji-min. Ji-min.

Folding your hands in your lap to disguise you pinching your wrist under the table, trying to do anything to keep your hectic mind calm as you know you have to lie.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" 

The smirk he gives you makes your stomach churn, as if he can see right through you and your lies, as if he can see everything that transpired last night flashing behind your eyes. 

"Yes." Your voice comes out raspy, a sudden dry patch in your throat makes you swallow involuntarily.

"Run me through your evening." He sinks lower into his seat, you're almost waiting for him to pull out a footstool and put his feet up.

"We set up the project, waited for it to go live-"

"Who's we?"

"My team, myself and Mr. Park."

He nods and gestures a hand for you to continue.

"Once it was live, we monitored it for a few hours, checked everything was in working order and most of my team went home for the night. It was pretty late by then."

He jots your account down on his laptop, the keys clicking furiously as you speak.

"What time is 'late'?"

"Around 10ish."

He raises his brows. "Is that a typical work day for you?"

You shake your head. "No, it was only because we wanted to make sure everything went ok with the go live, a few tweaks and adjustments had to be made, nothing major."

He nods, eyes focused on his screen. "Is that usual at the end of a project, tweaks and adjustments?" 

You shrug. "Sometimes yes, on big projects, sometimes you can't see certain errors until a go live."

"Ok, so it's 10 o'clock and your team have gone home, leaving you and Mr. Park. What happened next?"

You massage your temples. "We spoke in his office."

"About what?"

Your hand slams down on the table, an action you didn't intend. "Is that relevant?"

He looks up startled, then smiles. "Why? Have I touched a nerve?"

You resist the urge to lean across the table and pound your fist into his smug face and instead lean back in your seat with your arms folded, an attempt at shielding yourself. "We spoke about the project and the result. It seemed to be successful, at the time, so we had a celebratory night cap."

He shoves his laptop aside, leaning forward on his elbows, ears pricked and ready. "Let me get this straight. You and the - forgive me - handsome Mr. Park are alone in the building, in his office and having a night cap, late at night?"

"Yes." You reply bluntly, the arrogance of him, so sure he'll find your lie, flaming your veins with rage.

"Does Mr. Park regularly have his colleagues in his office for a night cap?"

"I wouldn't know sir, I'm not his secretary."

"Even if you were, she'd have gone home hours ago, according to you." He pauses watching you, his eyes so intense they feel smothering-suffocating. 

His stare eases, releasing you from its hold. "Ok continue, what happened after your night cap?" He relaxes and goes back to typing. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, air feeling light and free again.

"We talked, I finished my drink, then I went home."

"How did you get home?"

You pause. If you lie, they're bound to see the footage of you and Jimin leaving the building together, with you getting into his car. 

"Miss l/n? How did you get home?" 

Here he goes looking expectantly over the rim of his glasses again.

"Mr. Park gave me a ride home."

And there was that infuriating smirk again. "Is that so? Was his driver there or did Mr. Park do the driving?"

You feel the heat on the back of your neck as you're reminded of how Jimin's hands felt on your skin, hot and eager in the back of the car. "His driver took me."

"With Mr. Park."

You nod slowly. 

"And I suppose he just said goodnight and off you went?"

"You're correct, sir." 

"And Mr. Park will vouch for this story of yours?" He taps his bottom lip with the pen he just pulled out of his pocket.

You nod. "He will because it's the truth." You're both praying and hoping you'd have a chance to speak to Jimin before he got interviewed...if he hasn't been already. God, if they found out you were lying about this, it would make you look so guilty.

"Uh-huh. One other thing…"

Fighting the frustrated growl boiling up inside you, you give him a false smile.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to hack this software?"

You mull it over briefly, "I would imagine, seeing as it's a security breach for information, that it's to steal. Most of our clients are..." you struggle to find the appropriate wording.

"Rich." He intejects.

You nod agreeing.

"Ummm." He adds watching you, before sitting up and closing his laptop abruptly. "Ok, miss l/n, you're free to go. But we'll be in touch, I assure you." 

He stands up and you quickly follow him out of the room. When he shows you the direction the exit is in he turns to face you and holds out a hand. 

"It's been a pleasure, miss l/n, I know you probably won't be able to say the same, nevertheless." He shakes your hand with a half smile causing the dimple to return, somehow completely softening his face.

You nod and leave as quickly as your tired body will let you.

The cool, night air hitting your face immediately calms your panicked mind. You need to speak to Jimin but it might not be safe to do so.

"Are you ok, y/n?" A deep voice sounds from beside you, silencing all your other chaotic thoughts.

You spin and see Taehyung leaning casually against the pillar of the building smoking.

You relax at the sight of a familiar face. Jimin's personal assistant has always been friendly and kind towards you. You weren't sure but rumours in your company suggested that the two of them were even brothers, although you doubted it as they didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

"Yeah, glad to be out of there though." You reply, massaging the back of your neck.

"I bet, you've been in there a long time. I saw you leave to go to the station with them hours ago."

You nod. "It's been a long and very trying day. Are you waiting to be interviewed?"

He nods, taking a long drag, you watch as the end illuminates orange. 

"Well, I hope they don't keep you in there too long."

"They shouldn't. I've been away, only got back last night. Don't see how much use I can be to them."

He flicks his cigarette into the road and closes the distance between you.

"Listen, if there's anything you need or if you just want to talk or rant, anything. Don't hesitate to give me a call." He hands you his card. "This is a tough situation for everyone, we all need someone every now and then."

His bright, boxy grin has your mouth upturning before you know it. You thank him and hail and cab. Glancing at him, you see him watching you as the car drives away, unsure as to whether he's flirting or you're reading too much into it and he's being his usual cheerful self.

You shrug it off. All you can think of is getting home, running a nice, hot bath and forgetting this day ever happened.

*****

Back to reality as you sit with your silk robe wrapped around you, your laptop positioned neatly on your thighs, going through every possible way someone could have hacked into this, looking for how they got in. 

But nothing made sense, this was definitely not a hack done by someone with limited knowledge as you originally thought. 

There was no trace of anything left behind, no mark that anyone had even been in. Which only means, the hack had to be someone with inside knowledge of the project already, it definitely wasn't an outside hacker.

A more alarming finding was discovering the computer used for the hack was actually yours.

But why make it so obvious where the hack took place and which computer...unless...someone is trying to frame you. This wasn't something you had realistically considered. 

If you were honest, no one was even jumping out at you as a suspect. You trusted everyone in your team and everyone who helped on this project.

You sigh, massaging your temples as you try to clear your mind.

A harsh knock on the door makes you jump and you glance at your phone. 

02.31.

Who on earth would be knocking at this hour?

You head over, opening the door slightly with the chain still pulled tight across, to see a man; hat pulled down covering his eyes, standing there handing you a small, brown package through the gap.

"It's from Jimin." He says quietly. You watch his mouth - the only part of his face you can see - stretch into a gummy smile, before turning and exiting the building. 

Bewildered, you close the door and rip open the box. Staring at its contents and searching for some kind of note explaining what on earth this is for. 

A phone. 

What are you supposed to do with it?

You take it out, examining it and noticing the mistletoe background. Just like the mistletoe you first kissed Jimin under.

You jump out of your skin, fear firing an ice bolt right through you as it lights up and starts ringing.

Hesitantly, you answer. "Hello?"

"Y/n," Jimin's breathy voice sounds in your ear and sends a scattering of goosebumps across your skin. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger but I'm unsure if I'm being watched."

"By the police?" You ask, worried at the urgency in his voice.

"Not just them. Listen," he starts before you can interject. "I want you to know that no matter how it seems or what I say in front of other people, I do believe that you had nothing to do with this hack."

The relief that floods you has your shoulders relaxing instantly, not even aware they were tense. "I am glad to hear you say that, thank you."

"I also want to apologise, I did not mean for your involvement with me to put you at risk of any trouble."

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. "I really don't see how the two are connected."

He sighs and the urge you have to comfort him, to wrap your arms around him until his stress is eased, almost has you putting on your shoes and coat. "It doesn't matter. Things are complicated with me and it wasn't fair for me to drag you into that."

"Hey, hey," you sit down on the edge of your bed. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I'm a big girl Jimin, I can make my own decisions, last night being one of them and I definitely do not have any regrets about that."

You're met with silence as you find yourself fiddling with the bedsheets, reminiscing his touch. 

"I most definitely do not regret it either." He finally says. You think you can hear a slight smile in his voice. "That was a moment I had wanted for longer than I care to admit."

His unexpected confession causes a furious blush to creep up your chest.

"I wish I could see you." The desperation in his voice makes you hot underneath your robe.

"Why don't you come over?" You ask, hesitantly biting your lower lip.

"I wish I could, lord knows I do, but I can't risk it, for your sake." 

You collapse back on the bed in frustration, his scent jumps up and captures you, pulling your mind into filthy places. "My bed sheets still smell like you." You say the words before thinking them through. 

"Do they?" His voice is suddenly husky and full of want. "And what is going through that impressive mind of yours?" 

"You are. Your touch, your taste, how I wish to feel your perfect lips on me again." Your hand makes its way down to open your robe, cool air hitting your skin and puckering your nipples.

"Hmm-mm, and what are you doing while you're thinking about me?" He asks.

"What do you want me to do, Jimin?" You accentuate his name, knowing how much he loves it when you say it.

"Touch yourself." He whispers.

You waste no time in obeying, as your fingers travel quickly down to your throbbing clitorous. The feel of your fingertips massaging your sweet bud makes you moan.

"Oh god, this makes me want to see you even more." He groans. 

You use the phone to snap a quick photo of your actions and send it to the number you're on the line too. "Incoming message, sir." You say teasingly.

"Oh, fuck," he says in the distance and instantly followed by the sound of his trouser zipper being undone. "You make me crazy." His voice is right back at your ear.

"Jimin, I wish it was my mouth around your rock hard cock." 

"Me too, angel. God, what I wouldn't give to feel you around me. Tell me, what would you want me to do to you?" He grunts, the sound of him pleasuring himself causes a gush of arousal to spill from your eager hole and you spread it over yourself.

"I'd want your mouth on me...everywhere, tasting just how wet I am for you." You pant.

"Just for me?" 

"Yes, all for you." You lightly trace circles over your swollen sweet spot, toes curling when he breathes your name down the phone.

"I want to be inside you, again." 

"Anytime, anywhere, just tell me." You whisper, that undeniable build up already at peak point. "I'm going to cum." 

"That's it angel, cum with me." 

You unravel, back arching off the bed and burying your face into the sheets, relishing his scent. You hear him orgasm, repeating your name continuously. It makes you smile inside and it makes you feel powerful knowing how much he wants you.

"I have to say," he says, after you both get your breath back. "That was not the reason for me sending the phone."

You can't help but laugh at that. "What was the reason?"

He sighs again. "Mostly, to apologise and to have a way to speak to you that I know is safe. We have to be careful, now."

"Why, what are you so worried about?"

A long pause. "I can't," you can almost hear his inner turmoil, the fight with himself. "I'm just trying to protect you. You don't need to be involved."

You're about to argue but something inside you stills. If you push someone like Jimin too much, he'll only clam up further, he'll open up when he's ready...you hope.

"Keep this phone on, ok?" He pleads.

"More late night phone sex?" You tease, chewing your lip.

"I wouldn't say no," he laughs. "I do, however, just want to be able to talk to you, if that's ok?" 

You nod and realise he can't see that. "Of course, anytime."

"I wouldn't say that, you'll never get me off the phone." 

You feel yourself smiling like a cheshire cat, feeling like a lovesick school girl again. What has this man reduced you to?

"Goodnight y/n. Sleep well, angel." He hangs up the phone, leaving your heart stuttering and your stomach flipping with excitement. The prospect of something new on the horizon, even with all the current problems you're facing, something still seeming positive might come out of this. All you can do is hope.

******

Getting ready for work the next morning you felt conflicted, part of you was on cloud nine, drifting blissfully along on nothing but hope and dreams. The other part was dreading the work day and what it could bring, plus you still had your own discreet investigating to do.

A harsh, yet cheerful rap on your door, startled you. 

Rushing to the door to see who it is, a small part clinging onto a chance it could be Jimin, only to be disappointed when you open the door and find detective Kim Namjoon staring back at you.

"Ah Miss l/n, I'm so glad I caught you before work, could I come in?" The same smug smile stretching his full lips as he leans casually against your door frame, his laptop hooked under his arm.

"Really? Right now, I'll be late for work." You reply, feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's ok, I've already informed your boss of your late arrival." He assures you cockily. "So, can I …?"

You grit your teeth and step out of the way, gesturing for him to enter. 

You watch as he studies every inch of your living area, peering into your bedroom.

"What is it I can help you with, detective?"

He turns to you, "Ah, yes of course." 

Setting his laptop down on your dining room table, hitting a few keys and spinning it round towards you. "You might want to sit down for this." He says, as he hits the play button.

You ignore him and watch. 

Video footage of your office building, of you walking to your office partition specifically. You watch yourself sit in the empty building, at your computer and leave again. You look up at the detective, confusion marring your brow and he simply taps the screen where the date and time stamp are.

You follow it, and re-read it at least three times, eyes open wider than ever, as if that'll somehow help you see different numbers.

The frown creases deeper into your forehead as your brain catches up with the fact that the video shows you, alone in the building, at the exact time and date of the hack. 

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone I part 3

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 4,5k

Warnings: angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, smut, adult themes

A/N: Hey guys! This is part three of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking the series! Also, sorry for the delay. The next part will come out on Friday, as usual. Let me know what you think of this part! (sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language plus this part wasn't proofreaded)

Love, W 🖤

When you entered Tom's bedroom you immediately felt your tensed body softening as the smell of Tom intoxicated your senses. There wasn't another place on this earth you felt more comfortable in than his room. It wasn't big but the cream-painted walls and huge mirror in the middle made it seem vaster. There wasn't much furniture, just all the necessities, but you had to admit that Tom had been keeping his room clean and fresh. It was typical, yet lego Death Star set and spiderman figures arranged neatly on a bedside table screamed Tom. You kept teasing him about this but in reality, you found it endearing. The souvenirs he brought home from the places he had visited were dusting on the shelf, reminding him of good old days having fun on set and hanging out with the cast after work. What always got your attention was his cartoon figure leaning on the wall next to his bed. He got it for his birthday after landing the role of spiderman as a joke from Harrison, his brothers, and you. Even when Tom was younger everyone knew he was born to act. His family and friends would tease him about it calling him a movie star which always made him fuss around. When he finally made it to Hollywood, you all knew what you had to do. You told him that you all had a surprise purposely hyping it up. Judging by his reaction you expected him to throw it out but he kept it. At times Tom was a nerd but it made you like him even more because despite becoming a literal movie star, he never stopped being this little cute boy who still slept in spiderman pj's he was gifted on his 19th birthday.

The cartoon figure was what you were looking at when Tom cleared his throat and locked the door. The action made you turn around to glance at him with confusion written all over your face. His focused gaze and sudden shift of behaviour confirmed your suspicion that it was going to be a serious conversation.

"So… Are we going to talk about what happened?" Tom's nervous voice rang in your ears making your heart rate speed up. You knew that was the moment you had to confront him about your feelings. “Because for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about everything. I would hate to leave like that.”

“I know,” you sighed mentally preparing yourself to recite the speech you’ve created in your mind in advance. “Look, ever since I met you I feel like my life has gotten better. I never thought I would have such an amazing person in my life,” in the corner of your eye you saw Tom smiling excitedly at your compliment. His honey-brown eyes were sparkling and you had to stop yourself from hugging him and running your hand through his messy curls. “What happened between us was sudden and I’ve said it already, I don’t regret it. Actually, I’m quite happy with how things turned out,” you chucked at the end hoping it would relieve the stress and hesitation in your voice. Your words were all that brunette needed to confirm that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. In the room illuminated by the moonlight, Tom’s silhouette moved closer to you. Having approached you, he touched your exposed arm and traced his fingers up so gently as if he was scared he would break you if he pushed harder. His hand on your body caused shivers to appear and a slight flush crept into your cheeks. You hated and loved the contact silently hoping he would give you more. It seemed like your thoughts were heard as Tom slowly but confidently started to walk you backwards until you fell on his unmade bed. He leaned as close as he could, placing both arms on the sides of your head making it impossible for you to escape.

"I don't want to leave you here," he fussed, highly aware that the next few weeks were going to be hell without you lulling him to sleep, inquisitively going on and on about your day. Resisting the urge to pout you tried to overcome the feeling of sadness slowly accumulating in your chest.

"And I don't want you to leave," a deep sigh escaped your lips, pushing back the thought of him flying away the following day. "But we are here now, so what are you going to do about it?" you extended your arm to grasp Tom's messy curls, daring him to cross the boundary unconsciously set up the moment you've become friends to dive in the pleasure. Tom didn't give you a verbal answer, but knowing that actions speak louder than words, he lowered himself to place a soft kiss on the crook of your neck. The cracked lips caused a wave of shivers to run down your spine, your stomach dropping as you felt sudden wetness between your legs. Mixed with the wet marks left by Tom's tongue, the sensation made your eyes shut, spots emerging in front of them. All your senses were keen, escalating the intensity of the experience.

Tom was determined to work you up as he unhurriedly worshiped your body. A deep moan followed by a throaty “fuck” were the sounds at which you opened your eyes. Your longing stare met Tom’s one and you could swear right then, right there you had never seen a more mesmerising sight. Brunette’s once soft strands now had stuck to his forehead glistening from the sweat. His usually pale cheeks were now painted deep pink - a result of his unholy thoughts combined with the sight of your perfectly shaped body. Eyes dark with desire, hungry to capture every inch of your figure. You noticed beads of sweat dripping on your already wet chest, your shirt clinging to your torso enhancing curves you’d work so hard on at the gym. Lifting yourself on your elbows you signed to Tom to help you strip. You weren’t a self-conscious person, nor were you hesitant to show your figure, but you didn’t like to preen yourself on it. However, you felt the rush of confidence wash over as you caught Tom lustful ogling and wanted to take control of the situation. Shifting from underneath you poked Tom’s chest and pushed him to lay down. Foggy mind and the burn you’d felt on the skin still were dislimning your senses causing you to clumsily collapse at the top of Tom in your attempt to straddle him. Silent ouchs followed by a breathy laugh falling from the boy’s lips made your heart clunch in embarrassment. Much to your surprise, he kissed you as if he wanted to assure you that he didn’t find your awkwardness unnerving. In the few seconds of your make-out session, you recomposed yourself and broke the kiss wanting more as the throbbing between your legs became unbearable.

In the heat of a moment, you took off your bra leaving your breasts exposed for Tom to admire. You didn’t miss how his pupils dilated and his mouth went dry just by gaping at you. This fueled up your nerve leaving no place for doubt and hesitation in your mind. Shamelessly, you rocked your hips against his own at a slow pace. Grunts and scratchy moans could be heard, falling from Tom’s lips like prayers begging for your pleasure. With his eyes shut and fists clenched, he couldn’t look more beautiful, more vulnerable, falling into pieces for you. Finding pleasure in the position and the power you hold over him, you let yourself get lost in the bliss of his hard cock sliding through your folds, the tip teasing your sensitive clit in a steady motion. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Tom lifted himself until he was on an eye level with your chest, his mouth immediately clinging to your breasts, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple. Slowing down your pace, you cupped Tom's face and connected your lips in an aggressive kiss, teeth brushing and tongues intertwined. Fighting for dominance, Tom flipped you so that he was on top. Groaning, you brought him impossibly close leaving no space between your sweaty and hot bodies. Tom's little whimpers were more often now that he was thrusting into your hips, trying to bring himself closer to the limit. Knowing you couldn't last much longer you moved your hand to slip it into your undergarment only for Tom to stop you to do it himself. He licked his fingertips and shoved it into your panties, rubbing your clit in circles.

“That’s okay, cum for me baby,” Tom muttered, trying hard to catch his breath. Completely lost in the moment, you obeyed his command and let go of the tight knot that formed in your stomach. The sensation of Tom’s body pressing against you and his fingers playing with the heart of your femininity caused you to almost black out, starts appearing in front of your eyes. Letting out a pornographic moan, you tried to arch your back gripping the sheets so hard your skin turned white. You couldn’t tell for how long you were wiggling under your best friend’s body but it felt like hours until you were able to get back to reality.

Coming down from your high you took notice of a wet stain on Tom’s trousers. You opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off offering you some fresh clothes and a glass of water. Not thinking much, you accepted his little acts of care and walked past him to change in the bathroom.

Having closed the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to calm your racing heart. While you were getting dressed Tom was silently freaking out. He could’t believe that you went this far. It still felt like a dream to him. At that moment he hated his lifestyle, he hated his profession that required him to fly away the following morning, splitting you up in the worst time. Maybe he could convince you to go with him? No, it was crazy. You had your life here, it wouldn’t be fair to take it away.

Tom’s running thoughts were cut off by the click of the door followed by your silhouette emerging from the room with a small smile. Tom returned the gesture and nodded at the bed, silently asking if you wanted to lay down with him. Getting back on the soft mattres, you let out a sigh contemplating if you should bring up your feelings. Truthfully speaking, you didn’t know how to act and it seemed like so did Tom. He sat down at the foot of the bed, facing away from you. He was scratching the nape of his neck - a habit that always betrayed his nervosity. He then suddenly stopped and it seemed like he came to terms with himself as he turned around to look at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes and imperceptibly bleeding lip. He had to bite it to prevent it from trembling but the pressure was hard enough to rip the fragile skin of an organ. You couldn’t read anything from the look on his face and it scared you. Not thinking much you embraced him from behind placing your forehead against the side of his face. You wanted him to feel you, to detect that you were there for him.

“I-I don’t want to l-leave,” a broken stutter left his lips, repeating the words he had used before.

“I know, but people expect you to go,” you whispered to him, slowly rocking you two from side to side to the sound of the clock tickling and driving cars coming from outside the window.

“Tell me something that will make me stay,” his words echoed in the quiet room, so desperate and calling for help. Not thinking much you blurred out the first thing that came to your mind.

“I think I’m falling in love with you and that scares me but I don’t want you to go either,” before you got a chance to register your confession, Tom wrenched himself away from you to see if you were serious. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for jokes so when he identified your stoned expression he knew you meant every single word. Suddenly, a way of regret and pity washed over him, not being sure how to tell you the truth without breaking your heart.

“I… That’s… Um…” he tried to initiate the conversation but his mind was so fogged from regret and miscomprehension.

“You don’t feel the same?” you more of stated with so much heartbreak in your voice it took everything in Tom not to lie and tell you he’s always loved you to fix his mistakes. He stopped himself from it because you deserved something better than that. On the spur of the moment, he cupped your face hoping it would help him get to you easier.

“I love you, I really do but…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. It would kill him to watch your face fall with disappointment and sorrow, let down by the only guy who promised to cherish you forever.

“You don’t have to say anything more. I understand,” pushing Tom away from you, you got up making your way to the door wishing to get away from him as soon as possible. You were hurt beyond your expectations. All of the little moments you shared, the kiss, tonight, it meant nothing. You were livid at yourself, you didn’t know for what more - being so stupid to believe that he could ever love you or that he would ever want you for something more than just an easy fuck. Fueled by the sudden anger you turned to Tom with disgust painted all over your face. “Was I just a girl you wanted to try for a day and dump? Was I just good fun for you? Did you have fun playing with me?”

“God, no! I didn’t mean it to happen! I just did and I’m sorry, okay? Just please sit down and let me explain,” you were extremely angry but you needed answers so you stayed in your place, waiting for Tom to continue. “I tried so hard to love you. It just never felt right like there was something missing and I-I don’t k-know what it is but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care about you. I do love you, can’t you see that?” you didn’t reply for a few seconds and Tom started to get nervous. “Please, say something.”

“Can you try again?” you asked in a small voice. You kept your arms around yourself feeling uncomfortable out of the blue, your black socks suddenly becoming amusing sight to look at.

“Can I try what again?” confusion was evident in Tom’s tone. He knew he was losing you and he needed to do everything to keep you by his side.

“Try to love me.” silence filled the room as you asked the unfortunate question hoping for the answer you already knew you couldn’t get. But it was worth trying, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can,” the words were hard for Tom to get out, a lump forming in his throat.

“Okay,” was all you muttered and at that moment Tom realised he fucked up. “I should go already, it’s late and you have to catch an early plane so…” you trailed hoping that he will get a hint.

“Please, wait!” he ran up to you as you were to exit his bedroom to wrap his arms around you in one last hug before he would leave. “I will keep calling every day, I don’t care if you don’t pick up or block my number. I will always try to get to you. You’re my oxygen, I need you,” if you were in a different situation Tom’s deep sobs would make your heart ache and feel sorry for him, rushing to lighten up his mood but now you didn’t have any of those thoughts. You just felt numb at his praying, a strange feeling settling in your stomach feeling his touch.

“Please, don’t become a stranger,” Was Tom selfish? Yes, but desperate situations require desperate attempts.

Freeing yourself from the brunette's tight embrace, you looked him in the eye for the last time and left the room wishing him good luck at his new job. He didn’t try and call for you, nor did he run after you. He stared at you silently tiptoeing downstairs avoiding contact with other people. You needed to talk about everything like adults but he knew you needed time and he was willing to give you that. He just wished he wasn’t leaving.

================================================

“Okay so… do you think we have all the stuff we need?” Harrison looked at you, having put your bag in the backseat.

“Yeah, granted that you didn’t forget to bring your big ego” you tried to joke and lift the mood but you knew it didn’t work when Harrison made a face at you. Since your not-so-nice exchange with Tom, you haven’t been in a pleasant mood. You knew that what he did wasn’t cool, but that didn’t stop you from missing him. You took off your phone, glancing at it for the twentieth time in the past thirty minutes only to see that you haven’t gotten any notifications. He said he would call. You felt stupid waiting for the guy who clearly didn’t want you and didn’t even bother to talk things out with you. You must have stared at your phone for a little too long because you heard Harrison clear his throat and saw him giving you a knowing look. You only rolled your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know?” the blonde tried to take up a conversation with you. He knew something was up between you and Tom. He knew when you would stop smiling at him when he cracked jokes or when you stopped mentioning Tom in your conversations, or when he noticed Tom tensing at every mention of your name. He tried to get any pieces of information from his best friend but the brunette would always say that you were busy and that it wasn’t his business. Maybe it wasn’t Harrison’s place to be noisy but he had to admit that your careless aura was making him worry. Even when you were upset you acted more lively than now. He was aware that the matter was serious, he just didn’t know how to make it better… and he wanted to make it better for you.

During the last few weeks, your relationship progressed. Since Tom was constantly working, he didn’t have much time to call or text. And even if he did it seemed as if he wanted to spend it with other people. You couldn’t make out what went wrong in your relationship but you knew it was serious when Tom stopped making any effort. You’ve never seen him acting so indifferent towards you and it scared you. However, the lack of interaction between you two brought you closer to Harrison. You almost forgot how significant part of your life he was. Despite your sour mood, you enjoyed the time spent with him. He always made you laugh and feel needed. Your banter didn’t stop but it has changed into something softer and domestic. You found out that you didn’t mind it at all. Harrison still would do little things to drive you insane like casually tracing his fingers along your neck while putting a loose strain of your hair behind your ear or lowering his hand a bit too much than necessary while hugging you but it didn’t seem so unfamiliar and strange anymore. Talking to him almost daily, you learned to be more comfortable around him. To the point where you would hold his hand sometimes and stay over at his apartment after a long session of studying. That, however, didn’t mean that you couldn’t be playful. You knew that Harrison was as invested in your little game as you were. The rules may have changed a bit but it was still on. You had no idea what it meant for your friendship but it was too intoxicating to stop. Now that Tom was not there you could let yourself fully focus on it. You loved the feeling of uncertainty and on the other hand, you wanted to see how far you could push Harrison’s buttons. You were curious how much of it he could handle and if he would snap at some point. You couldn’t help yourself but subtly torture him with your slight touches during movie nights or walking around without a bra. You liked how worked up he always got. He would try to keep it together and act classy in front of you but eventually, you would catch him checking you out. In a way, it all felt wrong but all his attention was on you and you couldn’t help but feel good having this power over him.

When you got in the car you put on some music and looked outside the window. You didn’t want to talk to Harrison about your issues, especially not your issues with Tom so you tried to ignore his questions. Harrison, on the other hand, couldn’t find a way to make you open up to him. You two talked but he also wanted to support you when you weren’t feeling like you could handle things yourself. He remembered how Tom would complain about you being too secretive, even though you’ve known each other for years. That’s how he knew he would have to work hard for you to warm up to him. But that was the effort he wanted to put in. In the blonde’s eyes, you were the most intriguing person he has ever met. You two first came across in the cafe he worked at. You used to go there for some tea every day after classes during your first year. He’s been watching you for some time before trying to talk to you. One day his colleague dared him to get your number after he caught Harrison drooling over you during his break. So he gathered the courage and shot his shot. You two talked until the end of his break. He tried to get your number but you gave him your Instagram account instead. Soon you started to text each other and became really good friends. He would ask for your number a few more times but you always rejected him telling him to work for it. Harrison laughed to himself and shook his head. Even at the beginning of your friendship, you bossed him around.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, a bit confused by his sudden outburst.

“I just remembered how you used to reject me when we first met.” he turned to give you a small smile and started the engine.

“Oh yeah… You were desperate,” you smirked at him, knowing it would cause a good reaction and you weren’t wrong. Harrison gasped, abruptly turning to face you with fake hurt painted on his face.

“I wasn’t desperate! I just saw a pretty girl and wanted to take her out on a date but you were playing hard to get so you lost your chance,” he said it so casually you thought you didn’t hear him right.

“You evidently hadn’t worked hard enough,” you shrugged as if you didn’t care but in reality, your heart rate has sped up. You hoped that Harrison couldn’t hear your shallow breath. You never knew he wanted to take you out on a date and you didn’t know how you felt about it. The thought of him liking you more than just a friend brought butterflies in your stomach to life, making your whole body shiver. Maybe he wanted to take you on a date before. That doesn’t mean he’s still into you.

“So what should I do to get you to agree to go on a date with me?” the knot in your stomach tightened as his voice dropped down an octave. Was it possible he was still interested after all this time?

“I thought I lost my chance,” trying to keep it cool you exhaled softly hoping that the blonde didn’t notice how you squirmed lightly in your seat.

“Well… It depends,” he moved a little bit closer to you catching eye contact.

“On what?” you whispered gently trying not to raise your voice in fear that you would interrupt the moment.

Harrison’s voice matched yours as he whispered “How hard you can work after,” Noticing your disgusted look, he started to laugh deeply.

“Oh God, your jokes are so poor,” you shook your head at him, not finding his joke amusing.

“Oh come on, I know you’ve been dreaming about it,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Maybe, just maybe you have thought of it once or twice but you’d rather die than admit it to him. "Besides my jokes aren't half as bad as yours"

“Whatever, Osterfield,” you tried to turn around and fasten your seat belt not in the mood to argue but he stopped your actions again.

“Hey look... I want you to have fun today, okay?” his voice softened as he took your hand in his and started to caress your palm. “I know we joke a lot and stuff.. But I really want to give you something to remember, a memory you would always smile at when thinking of it… or when thinking of me,” he chuckled as if he thought he was never on your mind. Oh, how wrong was he. “Just forget about everything and enjoy the moment. Can you do that for me?” you thought you would melt under his gaze. He was looking at you so lovingly with a dazzling smile that couldn’t make you disagree with him. You felt like his ocean blue eyes were piercing your soul, taking your breath away. After a moment you realised that you could look into them for hours memorising the way his pupils dilated when he was looking at you.

“A-alright, I will.” you stuttered but still smiled at him and held eye contact. You didn’t know it was possible but his grin got even bigger causing you to do the same.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiled at you for the last time and turned around to start driving. Harrison said he planned something special for you. You didn’t know what the evening was about to bring but you knew you were screwed.

Taglist: @osterfieldshollandgirl, @tom-holland-is-spiderman-archive, @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @peachyafshawn

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 12: Catharsis

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

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

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

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

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

"Then say it, Astarion,” she urges him. Her lower lip trembles. She unconsciously bites it to quell the movement. A single fang peeks out and glints in the sunlight, white as the purest snow. “Open the bond and say it.”

“I…I-” he trails off with a rasp and cracking voice. The words are lodged in his esophagus and anchored on the tip of his tongue. That presence in his mind tugs at his psyche, grappling for control. It speaks its ethereal omens. “ She will be your end. She spins her web of destruction even now. When she snares you, she will crush you in her grasp, and when you finally break, I will be there to claim you once again." He grimaces at the ill-portent and cedes, “Perhaps you are right. This is a conversation better had at home.”

She nods, crestfallen and stares at the lake with a longing look that he does not like to see upon her face. It’s the look of defeat. All hope is lost and withered away. She yearns for stillness and obscurity to quiet her mind. Yes, he knows the expression inlaid on her features well.

Is he putting her in further danger if he says it? Could the voice in his head be speaking truths?

He’s said it before. What stops him?

Is it a lie? He is no liar.

He said it before….

He said it…. 

Gods. It’s hard to think clearly with this tittering in his head, defiling his thoughts with its blighted ballad. The presence screams that she is a threat. She has cast some sort of spell on him. “A trick!” It chimes, “A clever, beautiful trick by a clever, beautiful sorceress. She means to unravel you! She means to break you apart, crumble you into pieces and dance on your ashes!”

She would not do such a thing. Would she? Could she? He has used his beauty to mislead many in the past centuries. Is it possible she is doing the same? She cannot scourge him physically, but mentally… well, that is a fate far worse than even death.

She would not trick him. She need not trick him. He already lov-

Hells below, he cannot even think it, let alone say it aloud.

He can force her. He can make her his with naught but a thought. She already belongs to him. He can pull her strings and make her dance, a puppet upon his world stage because he is the Vampire Ascendant, and he can take anything he pleases.

No. He grimaces at the sadistic notion and how good and powerful it makes him feel. His thoughts become contorted and serpentine too easily these days, a pit of snakes twisting themselves into tangled knots.

She wants something real. She deserves something real, but what in the Hells does real look like? Is it supposed to be like in the silly stories he’s read? Surely not. Those are just a conglomerate of lovely words, trussed into pretty lies that the eyes can view.

He hears them before he sees them. They stand idle in the shadows, trying to hide their heartbeats behind the thundering hoofs of the horses and the wind whipping through the trees. They do not smell like powdered iron-vine.

They are learning.

They should not know he is here, but he does not have time to ruminate on it. His heart detonates in his chest, leaping around like a frightened bird in a cage. The presence in his head serenades him, pulling at its chains, pleading to be unleashed. He needs to get her away from here, from them and himself, before he sinks.

“Run!” He commands.

She hesitates, her pouty lips set into a hard line while she scowls at him and protests his commands. She draws the Weave. It shimmers around her like a vapour in the air. She is beautiful.

She challenges him at every damn turn. He loves it. He loves her for it.

He loves her…

She will not leave of her own accord. Even if he begs, an army cannot make her leave his side, and he knows it. He knows what he must do, but he does not wish to do it. Taking her control from her, forcing her into servitude, the idea used to thrill him. When did that stop?

Yet, he will always do what he must, even if it pains him as he has always done.

He confiscates her control, “Run to the manor as fast as you can and stay there until I return. You will stop for no one and nothing.”

She’s going to berate him later for this, but at least she will be alive to admonish him.

She sprints, and he summons every werewolf, every bat, and every ghoul he can, “Follow her!” He sends several away as the hunters rush him. He parries and dodges, sinking his blades into ribs, necks, and chests. “Protect her at all costs. Signal me when she is out of the forest and return here.”

Gods, his head hurts as he’s torn, the rattling of chains in his head splitting his concentration, but he must make sure she makes it out before he can give in and be overtaken. What will he lose this time? Whenever he drowns, something is stolen from him - a memory becomes snapped and riven like looking into a broken mirror, another part of the real him lost.

Once he hears the baying signal, he lets go and allows himself to be consumed, and all is black, black, black.

Shadowheart tugs on your limbs and clothes, wrapping her arms around your waist and heaving with all her strength. Her voice resounds, but it sounds like a faint, distant whisper, like the sigh of a weary breeze over barren plains. You feel like you’re staring at yourself from a distance. Fatigued, faded and lusterless, you’re a relic of what was and what could have been, just another corpse littering the earth. The skyline is the indigo and blue hues of impending dawn, and the stars no longer stare down on this tragedy as they wink out like eyes shutting against an unexpected bright light. When the sun rises, you will float away and be forgotten in the sands of time.

You were so close. Gods, so fucking close. In the end, Astarion had been right. Love hailed itself a saviour and became your destroyer.

“The sun is rising,” Shadowheart pants, panicked as she tries to pry your fingers from their clutch on Astarion, but they might as well be fused to him. “We don’t have a second longer to lose.”

Each time you blink, a new memory appears and plays in your mind’s eye. Some good. Some bad. Some terrible. Is this what they mean when people say your life flashes before your eyes at death? The reliquary opens, and your hopes, dreams and broken pieces are laid before you to gaze upon.

“Astarion would not want this!” Shadowheart raves, agitation and dread, making her voice tremble. She shakes your shoulders and hauls on them. “He would not want you to die!”

I am already dead.

The first thin golden strings of the newborn sun weave their way through the trees, a grand lace of radiant light that falls upon your pearlescent, colourless skin. Shadowheart screams, her heartbeat pounds in your ears, her blood a tidal wave through her veins as she tries to cocoon you with her body and limbs so the light cannot consume you.

“I’ve got her, Shadowheart,” Astarion’s faint voice charges the air. “I’ve always got her.”

You barely catch it, another whispering flutter in the air, but his chest shudders underneath you, and you’re plunged into your body. Your eyes snap to his, which are open in a hairline split. Crismon barely peeks through behind thick lashes, but somehow, you know he’s looking straight at you.

You grab his hands, interlocking your fingers with his, “Astarion?”

He does not answer, but his fingers twitch, and his grip tightens, if only by a barely perceivable fragment.

Shadowheart clambers, her hands glowing the baby blue hue of her magic so brightly that she could rival the sun as she focuses every morsel of power she has left. She slams her splayed hands onto Astarion’s chest with a thump that makes him wheeze and cough, and he’s bathed in vivid blue.

“You’re not burning.” Shadowheart’s chest swells and recedes like waves over a storm-tossed ocean with exertion, “Is he?”

Astarion stills again, eyes closed. Yet, you do not burn as the rays of light prance over your skin. Your ears perk and quiver as they catch the faint, feeble beating in his chest.

You smile at Shadowheart and throw your arms around her, “His heart beats. He lives. Thank you, Shadowheart. Good Gods, thank you.”

You sit cross-legged on the bed beside Astarion and fixate on him. Shadowheart helped you get him home and into bed, but he’s still not stirred more than some muttering and twitching in his sleep in three days. You’ve not left his side to sleep or eat, and you’re getting hungry. Very hungry. Shadowheart refuses to leave despite your insistence that she is not safe with you. With each passing second, it gets harder and harder to ignore her presence. Astarion’s heartbeat is of no concern to you, but hers… good Gods. Hers sounds like a culinary delight being offered to a starving ogre. You forgot how hard it was to be around the living with their delicious-smelling blood and beating hearts, begging to be tasted.

I’m a monster.

Shadowheart knocks and lets herself into Astarion’s bedroom. She yawns and stretches. You can hear her bones cracking and grimacing at the sound assaulting your ears, “Still nothing?”

“No,” you mumble, clutching fistfuls of bedsheets to stop yourself from scratching your skin in front of her. “His heart sounds stronger and beats more rhythmically, but he hasn’t woken.”

Shadowheart nods toward him, “May I?”

She’s been continuing to heal him every day as much as she can until she needs to sleep and recuperate. You’re surprised she’s putting so much effort into helping him. You thought she hated him, but there is worry etched into the lines of her expression and sadness you did not think you would see, at least when it came to him. You push yourself against a wall, splaying your hands against the wood. You cannot let her get too close to you. You are dangerous. Being a vampire spawn has not been as easy as Astarion made it look. Although, it is substantially less difficult when you’re well-fed.

“Go ahead,” you nod at Shadowheart with a small smile, “but always be wary of me. I cannot be trusted.”

She scoffs, laying a hand on Astarion and reciting incantations in a repeating melody, “You lived with me for a year, and you only tried to kill me once. I trust you. You have better control than you believe, but I will be on guard.”

You wince at the memory. It had been only a few weeks into living with Gale and Shadowheart after they found you in the sewers, starving, writhing and feral with hunger. Astarion had made being a spawn look easy. He could be around blood and gore, and it barely seemed to affect him, but you learned quickly that it was not as simplistic as that.  Shadowheart and Gale could not understand why you would not leave your room or why you barricaded yourself in there with every spare piece of furniture you could. One night, you had ventured down, and Shadowheart had been cooking after having had quite enough of Gale’s dry and tasteless food. She nicked herself with a knife chopping vegetables. A small wound, but the blood in the air sent you into a feeding frenzy, blacking out everything but that delicious sanguine tang and you had lunged at her. Gale cast sleep on you before you could bite. Shadowheart laughed it off, but it was a wake-up call to you.

You are dangerous. You cannot be trusted, and you cannot trust yourself. Bloodlust overrides everything else far too easily.

Shadowheart’s magic washes over him again but with little noticeable effect, and she frowns at her palms as if somehow it’s her fault.

“He’s improving,” you assure her, disheartened by her sullen look. “Every time, he improves. His heart beats stronger.”

She clenches her fist with a nod and a grin, walking over to the chair at the other end of the room. She gives you once over and states, “You’re hungry.”

You swallow hard, crawl onto the bed and place your hand on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat in your palm, and it comforts you, “Yes. I’m very hungry,” you don’t bother trying to conceal it. “You should leave Shadowheart. I know you mean well, and I am grateful for all your help, but I am not Astarion. I do not have the control he does.”

“He keeps you well fed,” she points at Astarion. It’s not a question, and you cock your head at her, “You were skin and bones when you left, but you’re looking healthy again. You’re looking like yourself. I imagine you’ve not gotten much better at hunting, so he must do it for you.”

Your fingers curl into him, “He’s trying to teach me,” you laugh lowly for the first time in days. “He says I’m atrocious. I believe he called it an affront to the gods themselves,” you try to mimic his voice while rolling your eyes. “He takes me out every night, usually.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Shadowheart’s brows pinch. “You said you didn’t have time to explain it, but we have nothing but time while we wait on him. Gods. Is he always this lazy?”

She’s trying to cheer you up, and you giggle at her. You’ve missed her. Shadowheart was not overly pleased when you showed up as a spawn, but she accepted it when you told her it was what you wanted. Shadowheart has been the only one, other than Astarion, who you can be brutally honest with regarding your morbid urges.

“He always did enjoy his beauty sleep,” you shrug with a giggle, and she grins. “The Rite had more consequences than we assumed,” you sigh, “Not entirely surprising. As for what exactly, I cannot be sure yet, but I think it would be best if he tells you himself - if he wants to.”

“I understand. If he allows it, I will help any way I can,” she nods. She will not pry because she would want the same choice if it were her, and you would never give away her secrets, just as you refuse to give away his, “You need not be alone in this.”

Hells below. Shadowheart never fails you.

“I could hug you right now, Shadowheart.” You smile, fangs bared, because you do not need to hide from her, “But can we perhaps wait until I’ve eaten and you’re not looking so godsdamn delicious?”

“I’ll have you know that I am as delicious as you are pale. I will have to tell Astarion to get you out into the sun more often,” she giggles as you groan. You’ve had enough sun for a while after your last dalliance with it, “I will take the hug when you’re feeling less peckish. I like my blood in my veins.”

Peckish is an understatement. You could eat a bear, or two, or three, or perhaps an army of them right now. Those hunger cramps and spasms in your muscles are starting to make themselves known and hard to control. Your mouth is a salivating spring, and you have to swallow excessively lest you drool. If Astarion does not wake soon, you will have to push Shadowheart out with physical force if she does not heed your warnings.

“You really should think about going home, Shadowheart,” you urge with a plea that wobbles your intonation. Your hand hovers over bandaged wounds. The superficial ones healed long ago, but these. Gods. Any of these would have killed a mortal man instantly, and he has several, “Astarion just needs time to heal, I think.”

Shadowheart’s eyes flash with that pig-headed defiance you’ve come to know, and she sniffs, “I’m not leaving until he wakes,” she smirks as you grumble under your breath at her, “Is there anything you can tell me about what is going on with him?”

“I know this will be a challenge for you,” you smirk at her with a knowing glower, “But when he wakes, try not to make him angry. You two have always been like cats and dogs, but try not to push him too far. When he gets angry…. Well, let’s say he is not himself.”

“Don’t make him angry?” Shadowheart scoffs, crossing her arms and turning her nose up with a brashly twisted mouth, “Gods. That will be quite the task. He can be exceptionally insufferable.”

“I heard that.” Astarion grumbles, clicking his tongue while opening his eyes sluggishly, “I am a positively magnificent bastard, aren’t I?”

“Astarion!” You nosedive into him, wrapping your arms around him and basking in the warmth of his skin.

“Well, hello, little love,” he purrs comfortingly. His arm wraps around you and compresses you against his chest with his nose in your hair. He thrusts you back with one arm and scans you, “You are alright?”

“Me!?” You fight the overwhelming desire to shake him. He’s just woken up, and he’s asking about you? “You stupid, foolish idiot! When you are on your feet, you and I need to talk.”

He chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, “I expected as much.”

Shadowheart stands, “I hate to break this up, but may I?”

She gestures to Astarion, and you nod, pulling out of Astarion’s grip with a reluctance that makes your skin crawl. Astarion arches a brow at your retreat. Shadowheart’s magic infuses his skin, healing him slightly further, and he looks at her confused.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Astarion,” Shadowheart emphasizes with a genuine smile. “She’s looking well. I owe you gratitude for that. She would not tell me what’s happened to you, but I would like to help if I can - if you will accept it. I don’t need your answer now, but think about it.”

“Uh,” Astarion is taken aback by Shadowheart’s authentic appreciation, but he recovers his detached mask quickly. “You’re welcome,” he says cooly, “I will think on your request. Please tell me this does not make us,��� he cringes, “friends.”

Shadowheart scoffs, “Gods, no!”

“Good,” Astarion giggles. “I do positively enjoy our squabbling, after all.”

Astarion’s eyes swing to you, pressed against the wall as if you’re trying to melt into it. Your jaw is clenched hard, teeth rasping. Try as you might, you cannot hide the discomfort you’re feeling, and you look away from him, uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. He will recognize bloodlust.

Astarion pushes himself upright, “How long have I been out? Please tell me she’s at least tried to eat.”

Shadowheart answers before you do, “Three days and no. She has not left your side,” she points at you with a scowl, “Despite my insistence that she do so. You know how stubborn she can be.”

“Hells below.” Astarion is out of bed before you or Shadowheart can comprehend what’s happened, and he pulls you close to him with a tight grip on your waist, “I thank you for your assistance, Shadowheart, truly, but you should leave. It’s not safe for you to be around her. I will think about your offer and walk you out.”

Shadowheart puts her hand up with a shake of her head, “That is unnecessary. I can show myself out. Take care of her, Astarion. Do not make me regret saving your hide.”

Astarion chuckles, “I can only promise I will take care of her. You have my word."

Shadowheart smiles at you, “I will be expecting that hug once you’re feeling better.”

The shattered glass crunches under your feet as you walk through the shambles of what remains of the mirrors, vases and paintings you ravaged. Little pieces of mirror reflect the candlelight, spraying it in a flickering array across the walls and ceiling like a conglomerate of stars. Your fingers tremble over the curtains, but the anguish is fresh in your mind, and you can’t get yourself to open them. It feels grave to be away from Astarion, even though he’s upstairs, and you keep your hearing trained on his heartbeat, afraid that if you don’t, it might arrest.

With a sigh, you bend down and start to collect the broken fragments of the mirror that spurns your existence and remains empty despite your fingers gripping the surface. You breathe on the glassy surface. You know nothing will happen, but for a reason unknown to you, the refusal to acknowledge you sways you in a sudden grip on anger. You squeeze it, and the sharp edges slice into your fingers. Blood wells up, gliding and smearing on the surface, and you grin as if you’ve forced the damn thing to accept you are real.

“Decided to do a little redecorating, I see,” Astarion chuckles, arching a brow at the mess.

You whirl, compressing the pieces of mirror in your hand so hard they start to buckle and splinter further. You want to berate him for sending you away, screaming at him for compelling you and scolding him for dying and almost leaving you alone for eternity, but once your eyes meet his, the anger is washed away by relief. He’s alive, and for now, that’s all that matters.

I have an eternity to chastise him for being an idiot.

“Sorry.” It’s the best you can do.

Astarion walks toward you, and even though the floor is littered with rubble, his footsteps still make no sound. His fingers slip down your arm to the hand that’s clutching those broken pieces, blood still rolling down the surface.

“It’s okay, little love.” He coos, taking the fragments from you and letting them fall back to the floor. He kisses your blood-smeared fingers, “It was all horrific. Wasn’t it? We can redecorate.”

We?

Gods. He talks as if nothing has happened, and it vexes you, but you slip your arms around him, push your ear to his chest, and enjoy that steady and strong beat almost stolen from you.

Astarion kisses your temple, then forehead and then tilts your head up and moulds his lips to yours in a lingering kiss before pulling back and scowling at you. His voice is coarse and booming, “What you did in the forest was bloody stupid! What in the Hells were you thinking? You would have burned to death had Shadowheart’s damn wailing not roused me.”

“You don’t get to lecture me on stupidity.” You push him away and meet his ire with your own. “You should not have sent me away! I could have helped.”

“It’s not your problem,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, Gods,” you scoff at him, fingers curling into fists at your side, “Not this bullshit again! Your problems are my problems. When will you learn that?”

“No.” He hisses, “I failed you once, and the Gur nearly killed you. I will not fail you again.”

“You imbecile!” You scream, starting to weep, and you put your hand on a wall to keep yourself steady as the leaden weight of everything that’s happened descends, “You died! You were dead! You… you almost left me here all alone.”

The blaze of anger in his eyes winks out, sterilized by grief. Astarion’s brows rise, and the corners of his mouth turn down, “Oh, love, no.”

Astarion’s arms fold around you as your knees give out, and he braces you against him with a hand at the back of your head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles with his lips against your forehead.

You almost want to push him away, to give yourself some distance, because you are falling too hard, too fast, but he guides your head up, and warm ruby eyes unite with yours. The connection with him croons the invitation to open, and you don’t hesitate to answer. Everything floods in a downpour. All your nerves, synapses, and neurons buzz with the efflux of information. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body attempts to orient itself. You inhale several shaky breaths as his heart beats inside your chest. It’s uncomfortable, but Hells, you will gladly take that pain.

The flood eases and becomes pleasant, languid streams that cross softly, slowly, and you are one. You are whole. You are complete.

Before you can open your eyes again, you feel Astarion’s lips ghost over yours, and you part them for him in a gasp as you feel his desire ignite. A raw, almost feral passion, unbridled and uninhibited. It’s so potent it’s intoxicating, and your yearning bursts and throbs between your thighs. Astarion kisses you with ferocity, and his tongue darts into your mouth. His taste is rich, deep and dark, and you moan as you drink him in. His fingers slip into your hair at the back of your neck, holding you firmly while he pushes your back against the wall. He grinds his hips into you with a resonating growl as he pins you.

Good Gods. With the connection to him open, you feel everything. His pleasure. Your pleasure. All brimming and teeming as one ocean of bliss you’re going to drown in. Without his smooth skin against yours, you feel painfully bare, and you rip open his shirt, flinging buttons askew. Astarion slips your dress from your shoulders with a smug smirk and lustfully hooded eyes, and it pools at your feet as Astarion lets his shirt fall.

Pushing yourself against him, you sigh with a pining whimper. He feels pure and warm as sunshine, and he is the light that parts the gloom of sorrow that has clutched your heart for the past few days.

Astarion parts your folds, spreading them and stroking the slickness. He is not slow this time. He is not teasing. He is feverish in his need for you. The pads of his fingers find your aching center, swollen with want, and quickly settle into a rhythm that makes your body twitch and spasm with white-hot pleasure, making you arch off the wall. You moan loud and animalistic, whimpering his name like a verse that’s stuck in your head, and his throat steals your moans with his lips on yours as if he can taste the euphoria in your cries.

Tension coils in your belly, and Astarion moans deep and velvety smooth as you crest and dissolve for him. He doesn’t waste a moment. You can feel his urgency from the connection, and it makes you just as rabid. You need to feel him stretching you, massaging your walls, making you his.

With a quick snap of his wrist, his trousers are below his hips. His cock is hard and yearning, twitching in the candlelight. Astarion grips your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he buries himself into you with one quick thrust.

The pleasure is so intense, either his or yours or maybe it’s both combined, you do not know, but you clench around him so hard he hisses when he inhales and groans, bracing himself with his forearm on the wall as if he might fall over.

“F-fuck,” he pants. He pulls out slowly and slams back into you with a snap of his hips. “Tell me you love me,” he commands with another pump, plunging himself deeper.

Your ears barely perceive the words he’s saying while you sink into your mind-numbing ecstasy, but you know what he wants intuitively, “I love you,” you whimper, lacing your fingers into his soft curls.

Astarion’s pace increases, uncontrolled and more frantic, as he rears his hips back and drives into you. He pushes himself as close as he can possibly get while he pumps his into you.

“Again,” he instructs huskily as he finds a pace that snares all your senses. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” you breathe, panting, bucking your hips to push against his thrusts, rolling them in the way you know drives him crazy. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” you repeat a whispering hymn.

Every nerve quivers in bliss, and your eyes roll back. You clench, gripping his cock tighter and tighter with every thrust.

“Come,” he growls the command darkly.

Your lips crash into his as you comply, your body submitting to his influence. It feels like a dream to obey, and you crash into your orgasm like a wave crashing upon a rocky shore. You cry out, fingers raking his skin, thighs squeezing him as you’re cast upon that shore time and time again.

“Good girl,” he purrs. His hips stutter as the tremors massage his girth. “Again,” he barks with a groan, his breath hitching as he plunges into you erratic and needy.

Every pump of his hips is an ode to possession. Every twitch of his cock is a chorus of control. Every time he drives you to your peak is a sonnet to claim.

He owns you. You belong to him. You are his.

Yes, take me and make me yours.

You don’t know if they are your thoughts or his, but you hear his answer in your mind as it drifts on the slipstream of your bond.

“I will.”

Good Gods. Astarion means to make you shatter around him over and over until your body cannot possibly splinter any further. He means to take, take and take until you have nothing left to give, and even then, he means to take more.

And he does.

The smell of Honeysuckle, Vanilla and brandy is heavy and prevalent, arousing you gently back to your senses. Your eyes remain closed with lingering fatigue. The muscles in your body ache with an obnoxiously constant pang, and you groan and grumble under your breath at the sensation. There’s a serene tranquillity rife that you cannot quite explain, like a peaceful and undisturbed pond. You’re warm as if swaddled in a blanket made of sunlight.

Sunlight. Sun…

No. You should not be in the sun!

Your eyes snap open, and you flounder, graceless and clumsy. Steam rises all around you, and water swooshes and splashes over the sides of a ceramic-tiled tub, splashing against the floor.

“Easy, love,” Astarion chuckles, pulling you against his chest to stop your inelegant lumbering. “You’re alright.”

Your head quirks up, and your eyes meet his gaze. Candlelight treads and sways in the sanguine sea, and kindness coruscates, making them radiate softly.

You blink, and your hand slices through the water, “What in the Hells?”

“A bath,” he grins handsomely, sweeping wet strands of hair from your cheek and behind your ear tenderly. His fingers trace your jaw, “Apologies. I may have gotten a little… carried away.”

Carried away is one word for it, I suppose.

“Oh,” he giggles, beautiful and lighthearted, as careless as a child at play. It makes you smile. You came so close to never hearing that sound again. “And what’s the other word for it?”

Shit. He’s still in my head.

“Yes,” he kisses your temple, hugging you tighter. His fingers skim across your skin comfortingly, “I am still in your head as you are in mine.”

“You put me in a bath?” You arch your brow at him.

“It was necessary,” he smirks arrogantly. “I made quite a mess of you.”

Astarion reaches down, his fingers parting your folds, and you jump, confused at what exactly his goal is. “Relax,” he purrs. “This is not about sex.” His fingers rub over you gently, washing you and easing that soreness his enthusiasm caused. His feelings of affection and genuine, thoughtful compassion roll through the connection. “Unless you wish to go for round four? Or was it five? Or six? I could be persuaded.”

You groan and slump down further into the bath. Despite your exhaustion, your body responds to his touch as it always does, fire igniting within your stomach and desire making your skin prickle.

“Good Gods, Astarion,” you mumble with a sigh. “No more.”

“I thought not.” Astarion lathers his hands with soap and starts washing your arms, chest and back. He massages your stiff muscles with perfect pressure.

Should I be angry with him? 

“Oh, don’t be sour,” he tsks, clicking his tongue and nuzzling your cheek. “You enjoyed yourself. I felt it. I felt it every godsdamn time. I almost couldn’t contain myself. You’re lucky I have such excellent control. That would undo a lesser man immediately.”

“You are full of yourself, aren’t you?” You laugh. Astarion’s cheerful mood is infectious, and you can’t help but feel a little bubbly with happiness yourself.

He shrugs, “Can you truly blame me? I am rather impressive.”

“I think it’s me that’s impressive,” you smirk with a wolfish grin, “If the exultant Vampire Ascendant could barely contain himself.”

“Sassy girl,” he tuts with a chuckle. “You are inconceivably enchanting. Even with an eternity, I could never get enough of all this.” He gestures over your body with seductive eyes but becomes more serious, “And whatever this is, between us, I could never tire of it, my love.”

My love… 

The words descend in your mind, slow and tortuous like a feather falling from a great height. He does not love you. He said as much himself, and his silence and reluctance when you pressed him only cemented that. Yet, his actions speak different words, and his thoughts and feelings that you can feel utter different syllables. You don’t know which language to believe.

“I do,” his answer floats in your head, not out of his mouth.

You push away from him, whirling around in the enormous tub, splashing additional water over the edges. You need to see him, be able to watch and look in his eyes. His brows furrow in confusion, and he looks at the swaying water, “At least, I think I do.”

“What happened downstairs was not love. You want to possess me, control me and claim me. You want me to belong to you. I felt it,” you frown. It’s all so godsdamned confusing. “You craved ownership, not a partner. Is that love to you?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, and his hand reaches for you, but you bat it away, and he stops his advance. You need distance if you have any hope of keeping your wits about you.

“You want to be taken and claimed. You want to be mine,” he snarls, but there’s a sorrow weaved in between that choler. “I felt it. I heard it. I do not understand why you deny yourself these truths. Why do you continue to fight me?”

He’s clever, always able to take your questions, skirt them artfully and turn them around on you, but you know his tricks. He’s partly correct. You do want to be his, to belong, but you do not want to be owned and controlled.

“You didn’t answer the question, Astarion.” You retort bluntly, narrowing your eyes at him.

You have to tread carefully over these hot coals. If you challenge him too much, you’re likely to be reacquainted with his anger made flesh.

Astarion takes a deep breath, calming himself and smoothing his severe expression, “I already admitted I got carried away and caught up in the intensity of the moment. Sometimes, my thoughts become twisted. What more do you want me to say?”

You can accept that sometimes his thoughts are out of his control. You’ve heard the chittering yourself, and it’s like a flesh-eating infection that grazes upon contemplations. If you want him to continue being open, you must be able to withstand his darkness.

You can and you will because you must.

Always the lovesick hero.

“You know what I want you to say,” you whisper with a tear glistening in the corner of your eye. You know he won’t say it. You can feel his aversion as if it were your own.

“I can’t,” Astarion says flatly. He does not offer a reason. His fingers comb through his hair, and he shudders as if ice was suddenly thrust upon his warm skin. “You want something real? I’m not entirely sure what real looks like, but I will try. For you, I will try. But I cannot say what you’re asking right now.”

“Then I think this conversation is over,” you growl bitterly while climbing out of the bath.

Water drips down your body as you wrap yourself in one of the plush towels. You can feel his pain through the bond, and it’s tearing you apart on the inside, but you cannot fathom being his pet. You are not an object to be owned and flaunted, and no matter how badly you want him, you cannot allow him to treat you as such.

He does not speak as you walk away, your feet leaving wet marks across the floor. You don’t turn when you speak. You cannot see the sorrow reflected in his eyes, “And Astarion, if you ever compel me like that again, I will walk out and never return.”

His answer is calculated and numb, “I will do what is necessary to protect you.”

“Then you better be ready to lose me,” you snarl. “I am not an object you can wield when it suits your needs and put away when you’ve finished with me.”

“So be it,” he concludes quickly.

This time, you close the door in your head, although you’re reluctant to do so as you tread the hall back to your room. You are hollow once again, but you fill the void with hatred. You will find out how the Gur knew of your whereabouts and descend on the wings of death.

You know exactly where to start.

Elowyn.

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

I felt terrible for the cliffhanger, so I spent much of my free time writing this week so I could keep mostly on schedule :)

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Heyyyy! SO as a local comteologist- okay sorry lmao 😂 I was wondering! Could you maybe write about an mc that is very affectionate? Because I am like that and I would give my ALL and just everything for someone I love. So, maybe the guys are pretending to be asleep and they hear mc admitting her undying love for them? I don't want to burden you! So, I think Will, Jean, Leo and Napoleon would be fine :D

I love you! And please take care of your self cuz corona is a hondje- sorry lmao

Have all of my uwus my lovely, I relate HIGHKEY I’m ungodly affectionate irl~

You take care of yourself too! Tyty 💖💖💖 nothing to apologize for I love a good clowning, esp if Theo gets clowned in the process 😂😂

And never apologize for using my esteemed title I will die on this Comte-thirsting hill (☆｀• ω •´)ｂ

I hope these attempts bring you joy! 

William Shookspeare:

Our v creative playwright boy was just vibin’. He had a long day at the (obnoxious thespian voice) theater and while he loves the art with all of his being, the man is t i r e d. MC was late to bed and while he prefers to wait for her to join him no he is not horny perish the thought he just started dozing off from the exhaustion. He’s not sure when the lights go out, but he feels an immeasurable warmth around him. Faintly, he can make out a voice murmured at his ear, a gentle hand running through his hair. (I s2g if this bih says “Puck?” I’m gonna smack him for MC)

“Had a long day, hm?” He’s only just coming to, and can’t muster the energy to reply or open his eyes. “I’m sure this next performance will be the best one yet! You surprise me every day, Will...”

“Try not to work yourself too hard, sweetheart. Your work may one day be the world’s greatest marvel.”

He wasn’t sure what it was about the words that made his lips tremble. Was it the praise that always seemed to flow forth at a moment’s notice, the real kind he was so unaccustomed to? Or was it that unshakeable calm; her faith in him unmoved by any fear or doubt--the kind that made him wonder briefly if she was dull all those years ago. Now he was just thankful it was still here, no matter how undeserving he may be.

“But you will always be my entire world, my greatest marvel. I love you too much to let the world have you.”

Jeanne D’Arc (REEEEEE MY GOODEST BOY OTL):

It was early one morning, frost blossoming in fractals along the transparent surface of the bedside window. An inevitable, biting chill lingers in the room while the sun is fighting to climb past the horizon, its time so limited in these winter months. She watches as the light casts a gentle gray over the bare walls--something she promised to remedy soon--so reminiscent of how he appeared to her at first. Pure and bright, but still fighting off a darkness she knew so little about.

The thought made her draw him to her protectively, careful not to wake him up as she tucked him close to her heart. He was so warm, even despite the frigid weather. A product of his time as a soldier? She was never sure, but she was always touched by how often he used that warmth in service to her. 

She remembered earlier the other day, when she returned home from some grocery shopping with Sebas. Concern was overflowing from his stoic face--it was there if you knew where to look for it; his eyes a little more narrow, the line of his mouth closer to a frown. All at once his hands were reaching for hers, relieving her of whatever she allowed him to carry while walking into the kitchen alongside her. When Sebas stepped out again he took her hands in his, pressing them along his face. She had cried out, knowing her hands were freezing--it had to be painful to warm them in such a way. But he only smiled that beautiful smile to quell her distress, the one that always took her breath away, and insisted he could do no less.

“The same goes for me too, though, Jeanne.” she looked at the fierce mark on his face, so unworthy of someone so gentle. She resisted every urge to soothe her fingers across it, loathe to wake him up. She didn’t notice the fingers that twitched at her hip, his signs of stirring subtle. “Whenever you need me, whenever you can’t think of a good reason to walk out of this room. All you need to do is find me, okay? I love you so, so much.”

Leonardo Da Binchi (no i will not apologize. he deserves to be clowned, glorious moron):

Once again her lover was gloriously strewn across the library floor, arms crossed and fast asleep. An exasperated smile found her face at the sight. Perhaps it would have been a surprise at first, but nowadays she would just roll her eyes and walk past. Sometimes, if she was feeling forlorn or a little reckless, she would climb into his lap just as he was. He seemed to enjoy being woken up that way though, so of course she couldn’t give him the satisfaction every time; a woman likes to change things up. And sometimes she was too busy to spare the time.

Even so, the slowly dimming shadows under his eyes were a relief to see. While the celebration of his birthday could only be a blessing, she knew what a double-edged blade it could be. It invoked so many wounds that hadn’t yet healed. While she wished he would share that burden with her--however heavy it may be--she slapped her own cheeks lightly at the impatient thought. Give him time...

“I know you think you have to carry everything alone. And in some ways, it’s something I admire so much about you--the way you always seem to know just how to move forward. Like nothing can shake you.”

She leaned down close to him, bracing herself against the bookshelf as she pressed a kiss gently against his temple. “But know that whenever you find yourself wavering, or even if you just need a place to rest, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. I love you so much more than you think, Leonardo...”

She stopped herself before she could finish the thought, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear: “more than my own life.”

Napoleon Bonaparte (oh my little lion man...):

They were spending a nice afternoon in the courtyard, as a lovey-dovey couple do, and they went under the veranda to find some relief from the midday sun. Surprising literally no one, our sweet emperor started to doze after some yummy tea time snackies--drifting asleep against MC’s shoulder. She adjusted a bit to change the angle of the lean, making sure he wasn’t putting too much pressure on his neck. Little puffs of air made her bangs flutter as he breathed low and even, and she smiled.

He’d had a guard jobs back to back recently, which meant precious little time to spend with him. Restless and quieter than usual, she had suggested a little stroll together around the courtyard; admiring the flowers and telling him about the books she’d been reading to fill the silence of those lonely nights. It wasn’t long before he started to smile more, snickering when she gave ludicrous summaries of the characters and plot. 

Early that morning she had taken the time to make perfect tea time sweets, fully anticipating--and hoping--it would encourage him to rest. So often he would be worried about her missing out on things or trying to plan more elaborate dates, but if she were honest she didn’t care much for extravagance or constant excitement. These tender moments where he could trust her (and the mansion’s perimeter) enough to fall fast asleep, no nightmares in sight, was enough to fill her heart with so much joy.

“I know you can’t help but want to do everything you can for the people around you; protecting and serving others is your life. I never want to be a reason you feel you need to stop doing that.” She murmured in the silence, playing with the buttons on his coat with a faint smile. “But even so, remember you always have a home to return to. More than that, no matter how powerful or skilled; you’re also one man. A man I love more than anything else in this world, a man I always want by my side--if he’ll have me, that is.”

She took the hand that was entwined with her own, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his palm as his lashes trembled. “I love you, Leon. Whether I see you every moment of every day, or only in stolen moments between assignments. That will never change. There will be times where you belong to the whole world, but this” she placed a hand gently over his heart “will always belong to me. Let it lead you home to me, sweetheart.”

And because I can’t help myself, I added Comte, Mozart and Vincent:

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (he’s the melody I can’t get out of my head DON’T LOOK AT ME):

Despite all of his promises to quit his bad habits, she opened the door later that evening to find him fast asleep against the covered keys of the piano. His shock of white hair was nestled comfortably against his arms, piled together as a makeshift pillow. The sight made her think of those long, long nights in college; thinking you’d close your eyes for a minute--only to be adrift in seconds. 

Smiling wryly, she reached into a nearby closet to retrieve a blanket before draping it gently across his shoulders. Torn between waking him up and guiding him to bed or leaving him be, she decided on the latter. She got the feeling that waking him up would only mean “a few more minor edits” to the composition he was working on, leaving sleep an afterthought. While she knew he often couldn’t help himself, she didn’t want him neglecting his health all the same. 

She’d be back with some hot chocolate in a few hours, just how he liked it.

As she was about to slip back out of the room, the hand at his elbow clumsily grasped for hers resting on the covered keys. Heat bloomed across her face, ears burning as he clung to her warmth. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She sat down on the piano bench carefully, trying not to jostle him awake. “Your music will never stop being the most beautiful and soulful sound I’ve ever heard. But even a mind as impressive as yours needs plenty of rest--even more so, I’d wager. You work yourself too hard sometimes, Wolfie.” She leaned until her shoulder brushed his, “But I’ll always be here to make sure you don’t overdo it too much. Sweet dreams my only love.”

Vincent van Gogh (he’s babie your honor):

MC was on her laundry rounds, Vincent’s aprons now thoroughly washed and folded for his use once again. She knocked on the door murmuring a greeting--though fully anticipated he might not respond. While he was usually so sweet and attentive, it was almost like he became an entirely different person when painting. Utterly serious, intensely focused; any attempts at speaking to him would require many tries before he came back to himself with a beaming smile. 

She sighed dreamily, easily picturing it. His eyes would always be stunning, a cerulean to rival the calm waters of the Mediterranean Sea. But in the midst of his greatest passion? They burned bright enough to make her forget the rest of the world existed.

Trying not to embarrass herself on unsteady feet, she opened the door cautiously to find his easel abandoned. Shocked, she scanned the rest of the room until she found him strewn across the couch; a blanket haphazard in its provision of cover. With a gentle smile she stored away the fresh aprons in the dresser before she approached him, kneeling close to the couch so that she could tuck him in properly.

He let out a pleased little huff before shifting slightly in his sleep, body angled in her direction. There was a faint smile on his lips, evidence of what was likely a pleasant dream or peaceful rest. She traced the outline of his ear cuff with insatiable fingers, eyes glistening a little when he nuzzled into the faint touch--trapping her between his cheek and his arm. 

“You’re more precious to me than anything else in this world, Vince,” the murmur was barely audible, he didn’t stir. “I can’t imagine my life without you, and if I’m honest--no part of me really wants to imagine it. This warmth is the greatest gift I’ve ever known; thank you for choosing to share it with me. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

Le Comte de Saint Germain (SAN GERUMAN HAKKSHAKKU):

Every day is a long ass day when you have 10+ children (yes, Leonardo, you are in that child count I hope you’re happy >:| ). For all his half-hearted complaints about the exhaustion and noisiness though, he loves his bubs, and wouldn’t have things any other way.

Even so, it doesn’t stop the delighted giggling that shakes her shoulders when she finds him fast asleep in his favorite armchair. His tie is undone and askew, head lolling to the side--any attempt at his usual poise long forgotten. While she most often found him to be charming and delightful, she loved it even more when he felt comfortable sharing these parts of himself too. 

She set aside the tea she would always have prepared at this hour and reached for the coat he had draped across the opposite chair, settling it carefully over his form. Resisting every urge to join him--Sebas would need her help preparing dinner--she carded a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear so it wouldn’t tickle him while he was asleep.

He was so lovely like this, face unmarred by the weight of several lifetimes that found him when he was awake. No matter how early she rose when they were together, she rarely ever got the privilege of seeing him a little drowsy, lost to rest as he was now. She brushed light kisses to his eyelids, smiling when he half-sighed her name.

“Tuckered yourself out did you? You big worrywart.” She resisted the urge to find his hand and entwine it with hers. “I promise to watch over them, so rest easy, my dearest love.” She played with the collar, tucking him in further. “I know everyone here is precious to you. But remember that you’re the most important person in my life too,” she leaned her forehead gently against his. “While I love to see everyone get along, I love to see you happy and well-rested even more. You’ll always be the only one for me, [insert Comte’s real name].” 

Bonus continuation because I still can’t help myself apparently, somebody please take my laptop away from me:

Arms like steel bands enclosed her in his embrace, a sleepy exhale washing over her ear as she shivered a little at the sudden warmth.

“Mm, ma cherie, surely you didn’t think you’d get away with that kind of teasing...”

“But I wasn’t teasing you! I was completely serious.”

Laughter shook his chest and hers too, making her melt at the undisguised affection in the hands that settled her close to his heart.

“Then you must be punished for such foul play. To think you would ruthlessly attack me while asleep, bien-aime.”

“And how might I atone for this egregious indiscretion?”

She could feel him smile against her shoulder, the rascal. “Stay here a little while longer with me.” As if he had any intention of letting her go. Not that she minded, honestly.

“Threaten me with a good time.” she mumbled, stroking a hand soothingly along his back as they closed their eyes for a while.

A few more minutes couldn’t do any harm, could it?