#who in my eyes failed me completely and abandoned me without reason

[0v3rachi3v3r]

bpd sucks

when i first went from tumblr to twitter circa 2018 i followed a few folks from tumblr on twitter bc they were friends and i had no idea where to start

since then, shit went down and there were ppl i just. could not absolutely stand to see bc they reminded me of the bad times(tm). 

unfollowed/blocked on twitter made my life so much better

then twitter shit happened so i came back and lo n behold holy moly yikers i forgot they existed on this site too...

and just bc of that my day (at least the next few hours) has been ruined bc i have such heightened emotions and negative feels

like yea blocked the one account i never hope to see, unfollowed the main acct bc even looking at it is :///

hhhhhhhhhh life is difficult with bpd bc literal emotions from 3 years ago will come back and hit you like a truck the same way it did years ago with the same intensity

[mariespen]

The Love in Pain ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

jj maybank x fem!reader - hurt/comfort ✩°｡ summary: the one and only time JJ wasn't there. warnings: mild description of nausea, description of injury, hurt/comfort, mild swearing

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Your legs intertwined with JJ’s as you relaxed onto his body. The two of you sat together at the chateau, half-listening to what Pope and John B were rambling about. You felt JJ’s soft touch absentmindedly drawing shapes into your thigh while your fingers danced across his own. 

“It belonged to one of Denmark Tanny’s close friends, maybe it’ll connect the dots.” Pope said, looking around the room at you, JJ, John B, Kiara, and Sarah.

“It’s far fetched, Pope.” John B replied.

You perked up at the spark of an argument, starting to listen in more to what they were saying. JJ looked at you, confused, until he listened in too and made the same connection that you did.

“It’s not!” Pope protested, opening his mouth to start reasoning again before John B cut him off.

“It’s an old abandoned house, man. There’s been nothing there for years.” He sighed, still feeling let down from their previously failed attempts to find out more about the legendary gold.

You sat up, squirming out of JJ’s hold on you to listen in, hearing Pope slowly convince John B. Your first reaction was the urge to go with them. JJ hasn’t let you go on any of the adventures yet, but you were ready to fight him on it.

“I’ll go.” You announced and JJ immediately sat up after you, looking at you with immediate denial. 

Pope’s eyes shot up and the rest of the pogues looked at you, waiting for JJ to say something. JJ met your eyes, looking at you like he was looking at a crazy person.

“No, we already talked about this.” He said, grabbing your cheeks with his hand and pinching them softly, turning your face to meet his eyes when he sensed that you weren’t listening, “Baby, look at me. Absolutely not.” 

“Jayj-“ you started trying to give him the most innocent look you could muster up.

“No! Completely not okay.” He repeated, letting you go and sitting back on the couch, arms crossed at his chest.

“C’mon dude.. if she wants to go..” John B said, smiling at you.

“Really not helping my case here, man.” JJ said, rolling his eyes and pulling you back down to his chest, holding you close before you sprung back up.

“JJ come on! I’ll stay out of your way I promise!” You protested, looking at him like your life depended on this.

“Absolutely not,” He said, shifting to pick you off of his lap and standing up, “You’re damned if you think I’m bringing my girl into this.” He finished, walking off.

“He’s happy tonight.” Kiara scoffed, crossing her legs and giving you an apologetic smile, “If it helps, he’s the only one who doesn’t want you to go with.” She said, shrugging it off.

But you clung to it, rolling your eyes and laying back down on the couch, feeling lonely without JJ. While they kept talking, you got up, going to find out just how pissed off your boyfriend really was. You found him in the kitchen, a beer in hand while he zoned out at the wall.

“JJ.” You said, making yourself known and trying to stifle a smile when his eyes lit up at your presence.

“Hi, ma.” He said, setting his beer down and starting towards you with a slim smile.

“C’mon, baby.” You said, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen and draping your arms around his shoulders.

He looked at you with doubt in his eyes, his hands finding your hips as he let his head drop to the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a while, taking in each other's presence. Eventually he pulled away, his body towering over yours as he kissed you gently, savoring the taste of your chapstick.

“It’s dangerous, I won’t let you get hurt.” He said, sticking to his decision on the outside but slowly being worn down by each second.

You knew how to get what you wanted.

“I’ll stay right by your side, yeah? You can protect me, Jay.” You said quietly into his ear, softly tracing his face with your fingers.

He sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder as he thought about it. You kissed his hair gently and let him hold you for a while until he emerged again, looking at you with a defeated face. You smiled innocently at him, hope rising in your chest.

“You can’t get hurt, you have to stay with me.” He said and you nodded eagerly, kissing him and smiling with excitement.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll stay right by you. Thank you!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him again as you felt him ease up at your excitement.

You walked proudly back out to the rest of the group, dragging JJ behind you as he looked at everyone like he just lost the fight of his life. They all looked back at you, mostly out of amazement that you won over JJ (again). You tried to listen for the remainder of the night, trying not to fall asleep in JJ’s arms as John B and Pope attempted to figure out a plan. He kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hand to reassure you, but mostly to reassure himself.

The next morning you were woken up by JJ making every attempt to be quiet. You opened your eyes, seeing him frozen in his last position, trying not to wake you up.

“Sorry, pretty girl.” He mumbled, a little disappointed that his plan to sneak off and leave you in the safety of the house had failed.

“Jayj..” You groaned, getting up and dressed in the clothes Kiara had let you borrow. 

You put them on, a fairly basic outfit with nothing insufferably tight. The shirts and pants were stained with dirt, like most of their clothes were. You got dressed, the fitting purple t-shirt and jean shorts complimenting your body in an odd way. JJ sat at the edge of the bed in his normal sleeveless tee with cargo shorts. He smiled at you as you walked over to him, straddling his lap and kissing him softly.

“So pretty, m’lady.” He said with a joking grin, standing up and spinning you around.

You headed out, meeting up with the rest of the group in The Twinkie. The drive was rocky and JJ kept a death grip on you, checking to make sure you didn’t want to turn back at least every five seconds.

“Dude, she’s fine.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes when he asked you if you ‘were completely sure’ for the 14th time.

“Didn’t know it was a crime to care.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes and looking away, trying his hardest to seem unbothered.

The six of you eventually got to the site of the old and abandoned house. The walls looked like they were rotting off of the structure and the house itself seemed to be at a permanent tilt. “Jesus..” Sarah sighed, letting John B help her out as JJ held your hand tight, following them. Pope and Kiara came out last, surveying the area with the four of you.

“Not looking too promising.” John B said and Pope sighed, shaking his head and walking forward.

The front door was hidden behind thickets of overgrown plants, but once Pope fought through the guarding vines, the door popped open easily. Everyone began to walk in, wielding a flashlight and the occasional knife. JJ pulled you aside before you could even step foot in the house, looking incredibly nervous.

“You have to tell me when you want to go, m’kay? Stay next to me at all times.” You nodded, smiling and kissing his cheek.

“I got it, JJ.”

You walked into the house behind JJ. He held your hand so tightly that you could almost feel yourself losing circulation. You weren’t in any place to complain, though, so you kept walking next to him.

The house was old and it smelled moldy and wet. You could’ve sworn you felt water droplets on your back at least five times. The walls were clearly rotting and you couldn’t look at them without accumulating a feeling of dread. Slowly, you were regretting your decision. That was, until, Pope spoke up.

“I found something!” He yelled from the opposite direction as you and JJ. You started to turn back with excitement before JJ squeezed your hand tighter and pulled you behind him once again. 

JJ led you back through the hallway, obviously a little skeptical as to how Pope’s plan was going to play out.

“Hey uh.. Pope, buddy.. what the fuck is this place?” JJ asked as the two of you stumbled across a dark hole with steep stairs leading down to another floor. Pope’s voice echoed from below, along with a few comments from John B and Sarah. 

“Come on, man. Be brave for your girl.” John B teased and JJ scrunched his face in frustration.

“Whatever, dude.” JJ said, starting down the steep steps first, helping you down every chance that he could. 

The basement smelled even worse than the first story. You nearly puked the moment that the scent of something rotten hit your nose. It took you aback and you stumbled a bit before JJ caught you, keeping you up with one of his big hands on the small of your back.

“JJ.. I need to sit down.” You said, the nausea returning as you inhaled again. 

You found a pile of old hay bales in the corner of the room, not far from where Pope and Kiara were trying to figure out the map, and took a seat. JJ started to sit down next to you, but Pope called him over for his flashlight. JJ got up, looking back at you quickly before going to Pope with hesitant steps. 

The hay bales didn’t make your sickness any better, and you held your head in your hands, regretting this already. After a bit of listening to them talk, you could’ve sworn that the floor was sinking. Hoping it was simply your stomach getting to your head, you decided to brush it off. However, the sinking feeling persisted and eventually you felt significantly lower than before. You went to move off of the hay bales and to ask JJ to take you back to the van, but you heard a deep crack below you.

The sinking feeling became all too real as you felt yourself plummeting down, the hay bales dropping much faster and leaving you free-falling. You felt minute after minute pass as you fell, your sense of time crumbling with the rise of your fear. In all reality, the fall lasted just around 5 seconds. Your ears rang as you crashed against the broken pounds of hay and hard concrete floor, your head pounding as you laid back, unable to move as hay scattered your body.

You didn’t hear JJ yelling your name or the creaking of the old ladder that John B set up to try and save you. Eventually, you didn’t see the light of your own flashlight anymore or the hay beyond you. Your fingertips started to go numb and you felt frigid with cold until you eventually saw black.

On the surface, JJ watched as you fell with utter horror. He ran to you as the floor gave out, watching you plummet down into an old secret storage room. He yelled and screamed for you, deciding to try and jump down but immediately being stopped by a very panicked John B, eventually getting a ladder and rushing down it. His tears spilled over your body as you flicked in and out of consciousness. He tried to keep himself together, attempting to talk you through it.

“C’mon pretty girl.. let’s get you safe and sound, yeah?” He whispered, wiping his own tears as John B and Pope helped him lift you from the spot you fell at.

You didn’t fully come to yourself until you felt JJ’s arms holding you to his chest like a child as he panicked and brought you back to the Twinkie. 

“Jayj?” You whispered, holding your face in your hands as he sat you on one of the seats, scrambling for anything that could resemble a first aid kit.

“Shh.. shh baby. M’here, JJ’s gonna keep you safe.” He rambled, trying not to look at your injuries. 

“Baby..” You said, voice breaking as the pain hit you.

He looked at you after grabbing a half empty bottle of a wound disinfectant, a slightly stained cloth, and a few bandages. You became more afraid when his gaze lingered on your face as his eyes welled with tears and he winced from simply seeing you in such pain.

“It’s okay, princess. S’okay.” He mumbled, trying to keep his hand still as he poured water on the cloth and padded away some blood from the smaller scratches.

“It hurts, JJ!” You cried out, tears burning the cuts on your face.

“I know princess, I know.” JJ replied, looking up at you and carefully picking you up to set you on the floor of the van instead, becoming level with you, “I got you.” He whispered into you before setting you in his lap.

His cautious touches lingered on your sensitive skin as you relaxed into him, trying to distract yourself from the pain of your own tears. You could feel his short breaths and soft sniffs from above you.

“Scared me, pretty lady. Scared me so bad.” He admitted, holding you a little tighter, grasping onto your scarred body like he wouldn’t ever be able to hold it again.

“S’okay..” You whispered to him, kissing the side of his head.

He gave you a sad smile before letting you relax into the base of a seat, cleaning and bandaging the injuries that he could.

“I love you, JJ” You said, holding his hand for comfort.

“I love you too, princess.” He said, kissing your cheek and brushing hair out of your face.

After a little bit, the rest of the group emerged from the house with boxes of papers and other things with the same moldy smell. JJ held your mouth and nose in his hand as your headache came back during the drive. When you finally got back to the chateau, JJ brought you inside and seeked out help.

He left a kiss on your forehead before whispering sweet nothings into you and promising to always keep you safe. You believed him, holding his shaking hands to your body, trying to let his love heal you.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[running-with-kn1ves]

Need you to write more WLW 😫😫😫😫

It’s the only thing keeping me sane!!!!!

A/N: I wrote this based on a random ass scene I saw in The Boys and now...here lies this creation. (Female fitness trainer is nearing completion)

CW: blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship type beat, controlling behavior, threats, cigarettes

Synopsis: you attempt to break up with your girlfriend-- she's too much. But she was going to keep you, one way or another.

You knew the rough crowd around town was... intense. But this chick was on another level. Kali liked to scare you; with how little you knew about her friends, leering on their motorcycles as she watched from behind a cigarette, your mind swam with scenarios of being abandoned on bloody asphalt behind a dumpster.

The music she blares in her shitty, one-eyed car and the smoke trail she left in bathrooms-- she liked being revered as nothing but trouble. You were doing your best to stay away from any kind of danger, focused on fixing the pieces of your tarnished education as your grades had not been kind to you. But Kali got to you first, ripping away any thoughts of work and reparations to your tuition debt.

So, despite the foggy kisses, lipstick stains on your jaw, and unexpected clinginess she showed to the idea of moving you in with her, you're making an attempt to break up with her.

"You... want to ditch me?"

"What? No! I'm just, I'm extremely worried about this next semester." You put a hand on her square-cut, polished fingers. "If I fail even one class again, my scholarships will drop me. I'm already on probation with the university."

You hope she can see how worried you are in your eyes, squeezing her hand to ease the news. She was going rigid, stiff as a tree with the strength of a waiting titan.

"School, huh."

Kali watched you beneath wispy bangs, looking straight through you. As if you weren't there, heart-pounding and palm-sweating in front of her.

You were glad she balled her hands in fists before you grabbed them, having one too many instances of your fingers crushed in her grip.

"B-but... we can still see each other.. maybe, sometimes on the weekends. I just can't afford any distractions, I've already spent a fortune getting to where I am."

"Is this because I want you to move in with me?" She blurted, straight faced and tight lipped.

Dark, midnight eyes bore into you for the truth.

Her ears perked at the sound of your jaggy sigh, knowing this would come up. "... No, but I have to say that it is still pretty early in, well, "us", to be considering... that."

"Really?" She asked earnestly, cold fingers finding their way around your forearm. "Because I still feel pretty confident about the idea, baby."

You hated how she could call you "baby" so easily, how every "sweetheart" was patronizing or forceful, or could be the most saccharine thing you heard when you first woke up.

her boot tips pressed against the side of your shoes, trapping you in like a snake wrapped around a rat. One hand held yours in a death grip, the other raking shivery nails against your knee from under the coffee table.

"I've got a perfect place for your stuff, work's only ten minutes away; why would there be any little reason to stay at your dusty old apartment?"

"I, I don't think you're hearing me--"

"No, no baby, I think you forgot who's choice this was to make." Your skin was a deep color under her fingers, her strength far outmatched as your clammy, fragile hand was brought to her cheek. She tutted under her breath, tsk'ing in condescention. "What would you do without me? How are you going to survive alone, no car to get to your classes, or the grocery store, unprotected around your peers... I can't imagine it, especially since your landlord never got his money to re-lease your apartment next month..."

From under the table her swift fingers brought a bulging envelope to the table, previously stuffed in your landlord's mailbox.

It wasn't even opened, the cash and tenant forms sealed without a mark.

Your jaw went slack, coffee cup cold in your hands.

"How did you--"

"Try it again, and I'll find it. You'll keep losing money, keep draining chances to come to me lovingly."

Kali sweetly tiptoed her black nails up to your shirt collar, sending shivers down your neck with each gentle, uncharacteristically slow touch.

Without warning, the woman snatched your shirt in her fist and jerked you forward, pulling you tightly against the coffee table. The seething anger she bore hardly made a sound, leaving the fellow cafe attendants nearby unbothered.

Your wince left her apathetic, bear-like eyes relishing in how unnerved and frantic you were becoming.

"I so rarely give out second chances. You, my love, are very lucky to be the exception. Don't make me regret it," your girlfriend was only inches apart, painted lips plump and teasing only breaths away. "I don't like to play dirty, but I will if you run from me. Is that clear, baby?"

You swallowed thickly, letting your gaze run away from hers as she bore into you with intense malice.

"Say yes," She whispered, on edge of twisting your wrist. "So I don't have to show everyone in here who you belong to."

Your cheeks lit up, terrified of the baristas and groups of students who'd look your way if she carried out that threat. Kali was unpredictable, something you found so endearing when you first met. She was always moving, doing something you couldn't expect. Now, it was scaring you.

You nod your head, regretting the idea of trying to break up with her in public. She wasn't afraid to make a scene, unlike you.

"Of course, Kals. There won't... be any need for that."

You hoped the sweetly familiar nickname with a hint of an anxious smile would make you sound casual, as if you weren't sweating behind your jacket and avoiding her blinkless stare like the plague.

"That's right." She whispered, letting go of your collar to pull at your jaw, this time only with the intent of dragging you closer. She was always so rough with her grip, capable or causing pain with its force, or merely leaving you breathless.

The punk's hand from beneath the table took mercy on your thigh with its painful rakes, moving instead to your cheek. Cold rings nicked your skin, her knuckles brushing against your face in a gentle, longing caress. You were hunched over the table now, uncomfortably risen as she sat like a queen in her cushioned chair, your face in her hands and your breath stolen by her.

Her pierced tongue came to graze the inside of your mouth, all-consuming and grinning through her teeth.

She tasted of stale cigarettes and mint gum, her current oral fixation besides the longterm smoking vice she's had since middle school.

You reluctantly kissed back, feeling wrongness in your gut. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to be sharing hot breaths or hearing her satisfactory groans for capturing you once again. You were supposed to be leaving teary eyed and frightened of what she'd do now that you were no longer on her good side. But this, was far worse. You were walking on ice that was already breaking, the freezing water below beginning to flood the only surface of land you had left.

Kali pulled away, not without a few last kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek, leaving wet lipstick stains. Your lips were probably about as red as hers were now. Dark lashes heightened by her thick mascara clouded your view, your girlfriend looking up at you through them with a gentle hardness.

She wasn't so scary when you were falling to her whims, like putty in her fingers and teeth.

"Kal..." you mumble, upsettingly conflicted between your failure to carry out what you came for, and your fear of what her threats would do. Her history of breaking into your bedroom window and making herself at home wherever she tracked you left you without a doubt of her potential. It made you all the more anxious of what she would be like if you didn't follow through with what she wanted.

"My friend is out of town for the weekend, said I could use his condo by the beach... a getaway, just for us baby." Her cold thumb smoothed over your bruised lips, an inkling of a smile coming to curl her mouth upward. "You'll be there, tonight. Dressed in that cute little number you wore on our first date. Is that right?"

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. 'Are you going to let go of this once in a lifetime second chance I'm giving you? ' is what she was asking.

You didn't want to say yes. You didn't want to show up, to spend another agonizing second with her knowing that your failing at everything you hold dear. But her hold on your face brings you to fall back into your comfort zone.

"Yeah, Kals. I'll... I'll be there. But--"

She laid a firm hand on your shoulder,  leaning against your ear with wrathful delight.

"Promise you won't bail on me, sweetheart. I don't wanna come looking for you," She let go of your sweet lips to play with a strand of your hair, curling it around her finger. "I really don't enjoy forcing you to obey.."

That was such a lie. She loved it, relished in your mild disobedience at times. But this was a different level of rebellion, one she detested.

You swallowed your protest, frustration bubbling in your stomach in distress and fear.

"I promise, Kal."

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Texting them “I need you right now”

Note: hi everyone! So sorry for not posting in months, life wasn't easy on me. I managed to sort things out (hopefully they will stay organised this time, or else I'm starting a new life in Spain), and I plan to write more. I'm also taking commissions again (the financial situation it's not good, so every commission would help me a lot!). Anyway, I haven't written anything since January, so please be kind with me.

He won't see your text right away because he's a busy man. After he has some free time, he checks his phone and immediately opens the chat with you, ignoring everyone else.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

The text is demanding, and he knows something is wrong with you, so he tries to finish faster whatever he had planned for that day, which he fails because he is constantly thinking about you. So, he dropped everything and came to you. 

Wesker is a man of his word, so he arrives on time.

"Have you been crying, my love?" he asked as he saw that your eyes were all red and your face was swollen.

"Yeah...petty reason." 

"If it was petty, you wouldn't have called me."

You wasted no time and threw yourself in his arms, sinking into his embrace and burring your face into his chest.

Being busy all the time, you barely see him. Maybe once a month nowadays, and this long wait only contributed to your sadness. You yearned to talk with someone like him because he made you feel safe. You knew he was listening, and you knew he didn't judge. Also, he would comfort you with small kisses and gentle touches and would praise you for being strong.

He moved you to your sofa, made your favourite tea, and listened carefully as you talked about your worries and recent unfortunate events.

During that time, he received a lot of calls and texts, but he turned his phone on silent because his main priority was you.

He hugged you tight, telling you that he'd always be there for you, no matter what. One hand would gently massage your hair, and the other would massage your back. It hurt him so damn much to see you like this and hear you sob in his arms. He wanted to hurt everyone who caused you to end up like this, and he was very vocal about his intentions.

"You can't protect me from the world, Albert. All you can do is be here for me when I need it."

He didn't like your response or agree with your opinion, but for now, he kept you tight to his chest.

He usually stays until you feel better, and then he leaves to do his work. He will be worried all day because you're still on his mind, so he checks on you frequently, promising to take you on a small trip to calm your mind.

The government agent is always busy. He's either stuck in his office completing paperwork, training new recruits, or on a mission on the other side of the globe.

He wasn't away on the field, so when he saw your text, he immediately responded. Even if he was busy doing desk duty or fighting, he would try to respond asap (he will hide in a corner if he had to, if that means he'll get five minutes of peace to text you back because he knows how worried you can get). 

"What's wrong, doll?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

A pretty demanding text means an urgent need, so he left early, abandoning everything he had scheduled for today. That annoyed some of his superiors, but he got away without much trouble.

Leon tried his best to arrive on time. He was being pressured by time and worry; he drove like a maniac to your place on his motorcycle, but he stopped to buy your favorite sweets.

"I bought you something good," he said, smiling in the doorframe and opening the bag to show the inside. However, his smile dropped. 

"Have you been crying?" he asked, quickly cupping your face and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. Your face was flushed and very warm to the touch, and your eyes were swollen and teary.

"Yeah...petty reason."

"You don't cry like that for a petty reason," he said as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You quickly hugged him and burried your nose at the crook of his neck. He hugged you back tight, a trail of kisses caressing your skin, starting from your neck to your face.

He guided you to the bed, where he listened to you and held you tight. His fingers kept brushing over your face, and his lips would occasionally press tiny, affectionate kisses over your skin. His body was glued to yours, and the warmth from such an intimate embrace made you feel safe. You felt safe not only to express your emotions, but you also felt sheltered from the rest of the world.

"You are not alone," he whispered as his hand caressed your back in a gentle manner. "I told you, no matter how hard it gets, we'll find a way to get through it together." 

He usually stays until he makes sure you feel better. After that, he texts you the whole day, asking how you feel because he can't ease his own anxiety. He promised to take you on a vacation.

He noticed your text right away, but he's stuck with his research and can't reply instantly. He will text you back as soon as he can.

"What's wrong, mi bella princesa?"

"I just don't feel okay. Can you come over?"

With much difficulty and a lot of excuses, he manages to leave his laboratory and come to your place.

Upon seeing your red and watery eyes, he quickly came inside and cupped your face.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, worried, his fingers brushing over your warm, red cheeks.

"yeah...petty reasons." You tried your best to smile.

"Querida, you don't cry like that because of petty reasons." He gently kissed your forehead.

He pulled closer to him, and you quickly hugged him, buring your face into his chest. Luis kept kissing you and whispering kind words to help you feel better.

"Just talk to me, ok? There isn't anything in this world that we can't get through."

Despite the firm grip around your body, he managed to caress you with tenderness. His strokes were as delicate as a feather, and every soft kiss felt warm and loving. 

He was so kind and gentle, and his attitude only made you more vulnerable, so you started crying again.

"Please, my love, don't cry. It breaks my heart to see you like this." He whispered.

He guided you to the bed and cuddled with you. His arms were wrapped around your body, and his nose was buried in your hair.

"Is there anything I can do to make it all go away?" He said, hand stroking your back. 

"No, just hold me like this."

It breaks his heart to see you like that, so he kept thinking about making you feel better.

"How about you and I go for a walk?" He said this as his fingers ran through your smooth hair. "Or we can stay here and cuddle; watch that movie you like. I can make something to eat, and we can relax."

"It sounds good," you said, your smile making a shy return. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out."

"it's fine." He pressed a lingering kiss on your cheek. "You know I'm always here for you."

"I know, and I appreciate that." You caressed his face, your fingers exploring every inch, going through his fluffly hair over his beard and over his lips. You two were looking at each other with the same enamoured gaze as in the beginning.

"We can spend some time tomorrow if you want," he added, being enchanted by the shared intimate moment, feeling drawn in by your presence, and wanting to spend more time with you.

"What about work?" you asked.

"Don't worry, as much as I hate it, I will find the lab in the same place I left it today."

Your light chuckle made him feel a little better. Whenever you are sad, he feels his heart shatter into tiny pieces. You mean the world to him, and he'd do anything to protect you.

He was training the new recruits when his phone buzzed in his pocket. After a quick glance, he gave the men a five-minute break so he could respond to you. Jack blames himself for not giving you proper attention since he is always on the field, so when he can, he drops everything and focuses on you entirely.

"What's wrong, beautiful?"

"I don't feel well. Can you come over?"

His subordinates were thrilled to find out that they had the rest of the day off.

He is a punctual man, so he arrives on time and not a minute late, holding a bag with your favourite snacks.

He tried to hide his worry behind a comforting smile. He quickly noticed your puffy face and teary eyes.

"Have you been crying?" he asked in a low tone, coming closer to you. He cups your face and brings you closer to him, pressing small, gentle kisses all over your face. His tenderness was endearing, so much so that warm tears began to drip down your cheeks again.

"It's just...petty reasons." You said it with a trembling voice.

"Bullshit."

He pulled you closer to his chest and held you tight. His hands were stroking your back, his head pressed to yours. His much larger frame swallowed you whole, seeming as if you had disappeared completely.

You felt safe in his arms. It was so warm and comforting, and not only his embrace made you feel this way, but also his reassuring words that he'd whisper constantly.

He carried you to the bed, and as he was sitting close to you, he brushed his fingers over your check and listened closely to what you had to say. It broke his heart to see you like this, and he couldn’t stop asking himself if, if he were there more often for you, you would still end up like this. This type of question tormented him, and you could feel that.

“I’m sorry, maybe it’s a lot too dump on you.” You said this as you caressed his face, your fingers trailing over his scars.

“No, not at all, love.” He took your hand and placed a lingering kiss in your palm. “I just wish I was there for you more often.”

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. The important thing is that you’re here now, and that means a lot to me."

You felt his lips kissing you softly once your head was pressed against his chest. 

He still feels guilty, but it doesn't press over his shoulder as hard anymore. He promised to spend more time with you.

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🌲 Stuck in a Cabin Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🌲 Snow by Septic_Styles {M, 70k}

The snow was packed high, completely covering the doorway. Louis reached out to touch it but Harry pulled his arm back in.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"It's snow, Harry, not some creature from Mars." Louis rolled his eyes and pressed his index finger to it. It wasn't soft, it was firm and had an almost crunchy texture like the freezing temperature had turned it into ice as the night passed on. It had been sitting there for some time. "Yeah, just as I suspected," Louis said, closing the front door.

"What?"

"We're fucked."

Louis is set to travel thirteen hours up the country to stay with his family at a holiday rental in Edinburgh for Christmas, but when he makes an overnight stop at his cabin in the woods in the Lake District, an unexpected, unlikely face - which Louis has spent all of his teenager and most of his adult years resenting - comes knocking, seeking for help.

Little did they know that the heaviest snowfall England had ever seen would snow the two foes in for a week...

🌲 To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci {M, 68k}

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

🌲Take on Me by @haztobegood {E, 60k}

Actor Harry Styles is preparing for his next leadi ng role as Antonius the Gladiator with the help of Louis Tomlinson, Hollywood’s top stunt coordinator. When the demands of Harry’s career get in the way of their training, the pair head to a secluded cabin to complete their training. Then, Louis begins to share senses with Harry. What is causing this mysterious connection and can Louis and Harry figure out how to stop it before they leave the cabin?

🌲 Warming Up to You by @youreyesonlarry {E, 56k}

“I feel you,” Harry nods along as he zips his bag open, carefully pulling out his fancy looking camera before pressing a button to turn it on. “I love taking pictures for a number of reasons, but I think the best part of the whole thing is that I’m able to go through my older pictures and have all these memories from those moments come back to me.”

He puts the camera against his eye and points at Louis, and before the shorter one can even react, he hears a ‘click’, and Harry’s smiling down at the screen of his camera.

“And I don't think I want to forget about the day I got stranded in a cabin with a pretty stranger,” he finishes off.

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

🌲 Cabin Fever by @germericangirl {E, 46k}

“What the fuck is he doing here?“ He asked still looking at him, before he turned back to look at Niall for an answer.

Niall’s mouth fell open and he looked at him with wide eyes "He um changed his mind?“

Harry stared at Niall for a few seconds in silence, before grabbing a bag and walking towards a bedroom without looking at anyone else, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Liam flinched in front of Louis.

“Well I’m happy to see you too.“ Louis mumbled, some of the tension leaving his body. This wasn’t exactly how he thought their first meeting would go. It was quiet for a moment before Louis finally spoke up “Did you seriously not tell him I was coming?“

Or: One cabin, one bed, two ex-boyfriends. What could possibly go wrong?

🌲 Snow Job by @duchesskitty16 {E, 42k}

Harry is a world famous rock star who is closeted and never gives interviews. Louis is a failed novelist and reporter for a gossip magazine that has fallen on hard times. Louis is promised a promotion if he can get the ultimate get - an interview with Harry Styles. Louis finds out that Harry has a mountain cabin near where his friends Zayn and Niall live and heads up to try and meet him. In a twist of fate, Louis has an accident and Harry saves him. Will Louis get his story, or will the fact that he's falling in love change things? Will Harry forgive him when he finds out Louis is lying to him? Will Harry find the courage to come out of the closet and finally be happy?

🌲 too much, but it’s enough by @ohpleaselarry {E, 40k}

There are about a thousand things Louis wishes he could go back in time and fix. A thousand things, and nearly all of them include Harry.

There are the more simple things, like showing him more support, telling him it’s okay to be himself, gently reminding him that a condom in his pocket is rather obvious in skinny jeans, but if he could just choose one thing, just one to change, he’d probably just have told the lad he loves him.

Always has. And always will.

🌲 Something As Simple As This by frenchkiss {E, 34k}

Trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after a blizzard derails Louis from getting home, he and the attractive stranger who owns the place have nothing to do but... well, each other. It would be a real shame if feelings got in the way, and even more of a shame if a secret about this stranger's identity turned both their lives upside down and inside out.

🌲 Etched in Salt (is a cathedral of the world) by @helloamhere {E, 24k}

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

🌲 you’re the habit that i can’t break by @ohpleaselarry {NR, 24k}

The boys decide to have a belated band reunion, just the five of them. One week, one cabin in the mountains, five boys.

Harry and Louis haven’t spoken sober in a year.

🌲 An Aurora Grove Christmas by @dandelionfairies {T, 17k}

Harry gets lost on his way to St. Louis. The roads are horrid because of the snow and he ends up spinning into a ditch. Lucky for him, he finds a cabin nearby, as well as a cute blue-eyed man who immediately helps him. Unfortunately, his car is stuck for the night, but at least he has a place to stay with Louis. With the snow continuing to fall and another storm front coming through, will he ever make it out of Aurora Grove? Does he even want to?

🌲 The fic where Harry calls Louis an idiot for ten days straight because he is one. by @mercurial-madhouse {M, 16k}

They’ve found the perfect get away from their busy lives as nationally-famous footie player and well-respected restaurant critic, escaping to the isolation of a cabin in the woods where they can simply be Louis and Harry.

If only both were actually here.

A gift forgotten in London, the untameable force of the weather, and the scent of burnt snickerdoodle biscuits find Harry and Clifford pitifully alone and Louis... Where is Louis?

🌲 Darling, Just Hold My Hand by likelarry {E, 10k}

Louis and Harry decide to spend a week at a skii resort with their families during the Christmas holidays.

On Christmas night, Harry goes into labor but the family gets snowed in which forces him to give birth in the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, his husband is a surgeon who can help.

🌲 heaps of blankets by gemma {E, 7k}

You know when you and the one you love go for a not-so-adventurous adventure? And you do everything that's crazy, everything you want and just enjoy each other's company? That's Harry's plan when he rents a cabin at a resort in the mountains for him and Louis.

🌲 Orchids by talasArchivesx / @talasarchive {M, 7k}

“Do you find me sensible yet?” Twenty-two letters and six words, yet it lingers on Louis’ mind like an old song playing from a worn cassette. Such a memory holds so much significance it visits Louis’ mind every unsuspecting moment.

The words are a dreamy reminder of such precious seconds of his life.

A story about losing against the drifting tide, and finally coming home; featuring a cabin, winter blizzard and “one bed”.

🌲 Let It Snow by @jaerie {E, 6k}

With a blizzard approaching, Louis planned to spend his birthday with a drink and a good book. In his self exile at his remote cabin, he never expected a poorly dressed stranger to show up shivering and covered in snow. He also didn’t expect to have one of his best birthdays on record.

🌲 wish i knew how to break this spell by eleadore {E, 6k}

Maybe it should be more of a surprise to open the door and find Harry wrapped up in about a dozen blankets, face pink from the cold and soft from sleep. It isn’t.

Harry, Louis, and a cabin. It's cold outside.

🌲 Strange Trails by bananazine {G, 4k}

After one of Harry Style's third-years lost their favourite hat on a class hike, Harry goes back the next day to retrieve it. To his demise, a downpour of rain strikes, forcing him to search for shelter. He runs without a stop towards the nearest clearing and his prayers get answered when he sees an old hunting cabin. With trepidation slowing his steps, he finally makes it towards the presumably vacant cabin. Though, to be polite, he knocks, only to be faced by the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

🌲 (not) driving home for christmas by BeautifulWisdom / @justanotherghostblr {T, 3k}

Spending the holidays alone at his cabin, driving through a snowstorm Harry hits an animal. He takes the large dog back to his cabin to see if he can keep it alive until the storm breaks and he can get to a vet. Colour him surprised and woefully unprepared when said dog turns into a very bloody and very naked man.

[ryder-writes]

Those Who Play with Fire Get Burnt- Dabi x GN!Reader

Summary: Dabi realizes that you are his weakness. Any of his enemies could easily use you to lure him into a trap. He loves you, but he loves his dream more.

CW: This is pure angst. Warning now. Toxic ending of relationship, manipulation (kinda), kidnapping, ends in death by fire, betrayal of trust. Also Dabi a little ooc (I say that cuz I don’t think he would be in a relationship to begin with lmao)

A/n: I just want to say, THIS IS NOT MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS! Pls stay safe y'all <3

WC: 1.1k

You were scared. Scared, tired, and confused. You didn’t know where you were. You assumed a bag was over your head, as you couldn’t see. Your hands were tied behind the back of the small wooden chair you were sitting on. Your ankles tied to the legs of the chair. The air smelled like rust and mold. It was humid as well, which made you think you were in an old, abandoned building of some kind. You were correct. However, your spirits were not completely broken. You knew that your boyfriend would come and save you. Dabi loved you. You were his world. He would fight for you; he would show up. And, he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Dabi stood in the doorway; leaning against the broken framing of the door. He felt bad. He really did.  It was his fault you were here in the first place. He had stupidly decided to seek refuge in a random apartment after being chased for what felt like hours, and he stupidly chose yours. You had grown closer, and your apartment became a place of refuge for him. A home he never had. But that was his mistake. He hurts everyone he gets close to. Whether the hurt is his doing or not. He didn't want you to get hurt- but it had to be done. Anything that could negatively affect his plan must be taken care of. He stepped forward toward you, his boots enhancing the echo of his footsteps. You perked up. Sweat started to form on your forehead, threatening to fall down your face.

"You do anything to me and my boyfriend will burn you to the ground!" You yelled, trying to sound intimidating (you failed). Dabi laughed internally at your attempt. He stopped in front of you and slipped his right hand under your chin, lifting your head up. Your breath hitched in your throat in fear, and before you could protest or move your head away, he lifted the bag off of your head. Your fear dissipated immediately on seeing your boyfriend. "Dabi! Oh thank god!" You put your weight onto his hand. He smiled.

"Let me help you there, sweetheart." He let go of your face and went to untie your legs. Once he was finsihed, he stood back up. You looked up at him expectedly.

"You gonna untie my arms, or…?" You looked at him confused. He simply shoved his hands in his pockets. You sighed. Of all the times for him to be acting childish. "Dabi-"

"Touya." He interrupted. "My name is Touya."

"Oh- uh, okay. Touya." You were confused as to why he told you now of all times, but your emotions told you that it didn’t matter right now. "Can you untie my hands?" Touya sighed.

"I love you." He locked eyes with you. You were slightly taken aback.

"I- I love you too, Touya." You smiled up at him. "More than life itself." His breath got caught in his throat. Was he really doubting himself? He mentally shook himself off and regained his focus.

"Do you know who my father is?" He asked. You shook your head. You had never pushed Dabi to tell you about his family and he never shared it. "My father is the great hero," He bent down, and inch way from your face; " Endeavor." Your eyes widened in shock. He chuckled as he stood back up. "I know, I know. Crazy, right?"

"But- your fire-"

"It burns my skin. Yeah. A gift from my gracious mother and her ice quirk."

"Oh." You didn't know what to think. "Wait, why are you telling me this?" You snapped back to reality. Dabi wouldn't tell you all of this without reason. He ignored you and kept on talking.

"I have a plan. A plan to get revenge on my dickhead of a father. A plan that cannot have weaknesses." He looked down at you. "You, my love, are a weakness." Tears started to cloud your vision.

"So, you're breaking up with me? Why did you save me then?! Are you even telling the tru-" He put his pointer finger on your lips, making you stop talking.

"Shhhh. Patience." He removed his finger. "I can’t risk my father using you to get to me. To trick me."

"I can leave." You spoke up. "I don’t want either of us to get hurt." He grabbed you under your arms and pulled you up so you were standing against him. He looked down at you. Even through the hurt, suffering, and conflict, you could see the lovesick look in his eyes.

"When I said I would never break up with you, I meant it."

"What do you plan to do then?" You asked. You trusted Dabi, but you were scared. He was still a villain after all. He sighed.

"I led you here for a reason." You choked on your own breath.

"You- you- why?"

"I needed to be someone where no one would find you." He whispered. He leaned down, lips grazing yours. You could feel his grip on your waist tighten and his breath on your lips. You started to feel warmth down by your feet. Your heart started to race even faster as you realized your fate. You locked eyes with him. He hated how the last look he got of your gorgeous eyes was them coated in fear. "I'm sorry." He whispered. He crashed his lips onto yours, giving you as much passion and love as he could muster. You returned his kiss, your shaky lips showing the same amount of love. You felt the heat grow. Your legs started to burn as tears ran down your face. The pain was intense when mixed with Dabi's  powerful kisses. You were overwhelmed. Screams of pain were cut off by his lips and his hands kept you still. You wished you could hold him; grab onto him and never let go. He wished that he could keep making out with you, loving you, for as long as possible. However, he knew that the longer he did that, the more painful it was for you. He opened his eyes one last time to see your beautiful face. Your beautiful, perfect, tear-stricken face. He closed his eyes again and let the fire consume you. You felt overwhelming heat. Then blinding pain. Then, everything went dark.

Touya felt you go limp in his arms. He finally left the fading warmth of your lips and kissed your forehead. He gently led your body down, supporting your head as it hit the concrete floor. He had made it so most of your body was still intact (even if it was scarred beyond belief), unlike most of his victims, who immediately turn into ash. He stood up and dusted himself off, sighing.

Dabi walked away, wishing that he had the ability to cry or at least mourn your death properly.

A/n Pt. 2: Hope u enjoyed reading! I know this is a lot darker than my normal fics, so if u want some fluff/comfort feel free to check out my masterlist :]

[hysel-e]

☀️ A Vacation to Remember ☀️

"Last year, I wanted to invite you to the beach, but you immediately shot me down without even hearing me out,” you said, pretending to wipe away imaginary tears. “You wounded me, you know. Oh, how times have changed.”

“I had better things to do than to spend my summer break with you,” Orter deadpanned, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.

“So you were just shy. I get it. Since you agreed to go this time, I'll take that as a sign we’re growing closer~”

“Do not put words into my mouth.”

You, Orter, and Alex were currently at the beach for summer break. It took a lot of convincing from both you and Alex before Orter finally agreed to be abducted to the beach.

However, while you and Alex were playing in the ocean, a certain four-eyes was seated in the shade, reading a book.

Noticing this transgression, you made your way over to him. "Why are you reading at the beach? Your habit of overreading is precisely the reason why your eyes turn into 3s when you take your glasses off,” you remarked, casting a playful glance at him.

Before Orter could respond to your cheeky remark, Alex approached with something in his hand. “I brought a slaughtermelon!"

"Why would you bring that here?" Orter asked, a trace of revulsion colored his face.

"It's times like these when you gotta smash melons, dummy!" Alex exclaimed enthusiastically.

"'Tis the season," you concurred, eyeing Orter mischievously.

"Speaking of smashing melons... Orter's pretty hard-headed. We could smash the slaughtermelon onto his head,” you suggested, half-jokingly. “I doubt he would sustain any brain damage due to that skull of his.”

Immediately following your words, you were pulled into the sand, finding yourself eye-level with Orter's feet. You had forgotten that you were currently in his natural territory.

“Did I lie, though?”

As night descended, you found Orter by the shore, his nose buried in a book as usual.

Approaching with a playful smile, you asked, “Mind if I join you?”

Without lifting his gaze from the pages, he replied, “What’s the point of asking? You’d do so regardless.”

“You’re so right, Orter. I can’t believe you know me so well,” you chuckled, earning a slight “tsk” from him.

“So, what brings you out here at this hour while Alex is fast asleep?” you inquired, settling down beside him.

Orter, as dry as ever, responded, “I went out to get away from you, but it appears that plan failed."

Without skipping a beat, you flashed a wide grin. “Then I’ll have no choice but to make you enjoy my company~”

At this point, he had completely abandoned any hope of reading in peace.

“What makes you think I want that?” Orter glanced your way, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I mean, who wouldn't want someone as charming as myself for company?" you remarked confidently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Knowing that arguing with you was only a waste of time and breath, he let out an exasperated sigh and resigned himself to your presence, listening to your ramblings while gazing at the scenery.

It was a night of the full moon, the sky adorned with countless stars.

They say that the company you keep can enhance moments like these...

Though Orter was not one to appreciate the natural beauty of the night, the scene tonight was particularly alluring.

At some point, you fell silent. Resting your head on your knees, you watched as Orter absorbed the view before him with his usual expressionless face. His presence alone had a way of making your heart skip a beat.

Opportunities to silently enjoy his company like this were rare, so you were savoring every second.

The scene of the ocean and sky illuminated by the full moon was breathtaking, and yet… you found the concentric rings in his eyes far more captivating.

“Quit staring,” his voice interrupted your trance.

“Oh, was I..? Maybe because the person I’m looking at is too mesmerizing to avert my eyes,” you teased.

Your comeback left him momentarily at a loss for words. Never before had he had to deal with anyone this... brazen. “You and your jokes. Your shamelessness knows no bounds, does it?” he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Yep. Since you already know how shameless I am, I'd like to take a picture of you; it'll last longer," you replied with a wink.

"A camera would be required for that," he remarked dryly.

"Don't underestimate me. I come prepared for every situation," you said, producing a camera out of thin air.

"Let's take one together," you suggested, closing the distance between you.

Orter didn't mind the proximity, per se, but it was the sudden closeness that flustered him. “Fine,” he relented, “but just one photo.”

With a click, the picture was captured.

The photo was a success. "It's perfect! I'll make sure to cherish this picture forever," you giggled, filled with genuine delight.

Turning to Orter, you added with a grin, "Oh, and just for the record, I'm only this shameless when it comes to you."

Orter averted his gaze, his ears tinged with red. "Hand me a copy. I need to make sure you didn't make me look foolish."

As you handed him a copy, you noticed a subtle softening in his eyes. “You don't look silly at all. It’s impossible to make you look silly. The camera likes you just as much as I do,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

“I suppose it’s an acceptable photograph,” he reluctantly admitted, as he carefully placed the photo into his book, marking the page he had been reading.

In that moment, you felt grateful for the scenery that lay before your eyes, for the cool ocean breeze that caressed your skin, for his presence that comforted your very soul, and you hoped Orter felt the same way too.

With softened eyes and heartfelt sincerity, you expressed, “I’m truly glad, Orter, that you’re part of this photograph and this precious memory of mine...”

[abitohoney]

Loving your work Honey. Reader crushes on Sev since they frequent the same workout gym? I crave one where Sev workouts frequently. I think its so obvi she takes good care of her body aside from the smoking, drinking, and fighting lolol ^_^ - Kimari

I'm glad you're enjoying my silly little stories. Thank you! 🥰

Clearly, this woman works out. LOOK AT HER BICEP! 🥵

I could totally see Sevika purposefully working out in front of the gym window, hoping to catch the attention of some cute thing that happens to stroll by. I personally have no time for the gym, but if I found out Sevika was frequenting my local gym you better believe I'd be signing up for a membership! Or at least staring at her from the window. I have like zero flirting skills, so I’d probably do something stupid like hold a sign up to said window with my number on it and mouth the words “call me” while holding my fingers to the side of my head like a phone.

Anyway…

Drabble/ficlet (1.4k words) below the cut. (Gonna treat this like a modern AU as I doubt Zaun has gyms. At least not like we are accustomed to. Probably just a creepy abandoned warehouse or basement with a punching bag and a bench, or something like Jinx's cool punching contraption.)

SFW (Gasp! Me? Writing something without smut?)

You had been considering getting yourself a gym membership for some time. You just needed a little extra push before finally biting the bullet. Little did you know, that push would come in the form of a window display. And it wasn’t the equipment.

After having heard about a new promotion at one of your local gyms, you decided to go check the place out. As you strode past the large windows lining the front of the establishment, you curiously peered inside. A long row of treadmills and bikes lined the first half or so, most of them occupied. Nothing surprising about that. But when you continued on, noting a series of benches, something- or rather someone- caught your eye.

You froze in your spot and turned to face said eye-catching person. And, my oh my, did you just find your reason to get that membership. Standing beside one of the benches lifting a single dumbbell was a tall, dark, and incredibly buff woman. Immediately your eyes were drawn to a flexing bicep.

Wow.

Just as the woman's gaze lifted to peer outside in your direction, you quickly resumed your trek towards the entrance, praying she hadn't seen you gaping.

While the girl behind the front desk recited the rules and conditions, you quickly found yourself tuning her out completely. Instead, you scanned the gym, hoping to get another glimpse of the attractive woman. As if the gods heard your wish, you spotted her striding across the room. And not only that, she was staring right at you. Your eyes locked with hers and her dark lips pulled into a small smirk. It only lasted for a fleeting moment before her eyes left yours, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter and your pulse quicken.

Wait- was she… smiling at-

"Excuse me, ma'am," the voice of the clerk pulled you out of your daze.

Reluctantly, you turned back to her and mumbled a quick apology.

"Do you understand the rules and agree to the terms and conditions of the membership?" She repeated.

You failed to take note of her irritated tone, still swooning over that brief moment. So you simply gave her a quick, "Yes, I understand." The sooner you got this over with, the sooner you could get in that gym.

To workout.

That's all.

With a brand new shiny membership card, you started visiting the gym. Frequently. For no other reason than to improve your health. The fact that you happened to notice which days your latest crush visited, and happened to set your schedule to the same days was entirely coincidence. At least that's what you would tell anyone who asked.

Although you always situated yourself far enough from the woman, you still ensured you faced her, observing her as nonchalantly as you could manage. Taking mental notes.

She rarely spoke to anyone. Only mumbled something to herself under her breath occasionally. She normally looked rather perturbed, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. But anytime her eyes met yours, those soft-looking lips of hers pulled into the faintest smirk. Her left arm was actually a prosthetic, mostly metal, and painted to look like a mix of copper and gold, with neon purple accents that resembled tubing.

It wasn't until one day on her way out that you finally learned of her name.

"See you next Monday, Sevika!" You overheard the girl behind the desk call out with a smile. A smile you thought looked a bit suspicious. A little too… flirty. Not that you cared. Nope!

So… Sevika? What a gorgeous name. Fitting.

Several weeks passed without so much as a word to or from Sevika. You simply admired her from a distance. Admired how her workout clothes- a simple pair of shorts and a tank that revealed her midriff- clung to every line and every curve. How the expanse of her exposed rich, brown skin glistened with sweat. How each muscle beneath her arms, across her back, and down her legs- all flexed as she moved. She really gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘tall, dark, and handsome’. She was truly stunning.

A goddess among men.

But you would never approach her. You were far too fearful of rejection. After all, what would a goddess want with a mere mortal like you? So you settled for just crushing on her, daydreaming of what it might be like to feel those muscles beneath your hands. To feel those strong arms wrapped around you as she holds you tight.

However, as you would soon find out, she had her eyes on you as well.

One day, as you took a seat on the nearest weight bench, you discovered Sevika situated not more than a few feet from you. She was bent over, back to you, and facing a mirror while she picked up a large weight in her flesh hand.

Momentarily forgetting what you even sat down to do, you let your eyes travel up the backs of her toned calves and over the curve of her ass. And as she straightened up, you were blessed with the expanse of her muscular back. When your gaze reached her broad shoulders you gawked, transfixed on those muscles as they moved like waves behind her smooth skin.

Realization hit all too late that you were openly ogling this woman, and your eyes darted to the mirror to check if you’d been caught. Reflected gray eyes locked onto yours.

Shit!

She caught you. And yet you couldn’t look away from those beautiful gray eyes, caught like a deer in headlights. Oddly enough though, she didn’t appear angry. Instead, out of your periphery you notice a small upward tug at the corner of her mouth.

Ripped from your stupor, you quickly turned away, praying to any deity willing to listen that Sevika somehow hadn’t known you’d been intentionally watching her. Too flustered by that slip-up, you laid back on the bench and just grabbed the barbell previously loaded on the hooks, with no regard for just how heavy it might be.

You somehow managed to lift the damn thing, but then nearly dropped it on your chest. You strained to keep it up, every muscle in your arms screaming and burning.

God, if you died right here, like an idiot, in front of the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen-

“Need a spotter?” a delightfully deep voice called.

Fuck, you really were dying. You could hear the voice of an angel.

Wait- a spotter? Why the hell would an angel say that?

You tilted your head back against the bench to find a pair of familiar gray eyes peering down at you, and just below those was a pair of dark lips curled into a lopsided grin.

Just let me die now.

Suddenly being caught gaping earlier didn’t feel nearly as embarrassing.

“Please,” you gasped.

With no effort, Sevika grasped the barbell and lifted it back onto the hooks.

“Thanks,” you panted as you sat up. You watched her from your periphery, too ashamed to meet her gaze. You expected her to leave. To return to her routine now that she’d saved the dumbass who tried to lift more than they could handle. To your surprise, she remained at your side, her large frame casting a shadow over you with how close she stood.

"Can't help but notice the way you've been watching me," she finally said after an excruciating stretch of silence.

Damn, her voice was just as smooth and rich as her body.

Her words replayed in your head, finally sinking in. Heat rushed up your neck and flooded your cheeks. Had you really been that obvious- besides just today?

"Oh I- I'm sorry I-" you stammered.

"Maybe you'd like to do more than watch?" she asked, not allowing you to finish your pathetic attempt at an apology.

"What? I- You mean…" Why were words suddenly so fucking hard?

"Let me take you out to dinner tonight."

Oh, that's not what you thought she meant. Of course she didn't mean anything like that.

"I'd really like that,” you replied sheepishly and finally looked up at her with a small smile.

Yeah? Hmm," she hummed. Then she leaned over and brought her mouth to your ear. "Then maybe afterward we can go to your place for dessert?"

AN: I feel like a lot of what I write is incredibly cheesy/corny. I'm such a dork. I'm sorry. 😭 Sevika would like a dorky gf though. At least that's what I tell myself. Lol

[balanceoflightanddark]

Monsters We Create Chapter 20 Update

Apologies for the delay. Again. I...broke my foot and it took me a while to get myself together. That and I'm going on vacation to Alaska next weekend so...yeah.

But I do have Chapter 20, which is roughly about 50% done. Maybe. So to hold everyone in the meantime, here's a little snippet of the chapter as a sort of appetizer. Forgive me if it's a little rough.

They walked a good distance away from the war tent. Yet not once did Kori let her guard down. Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee. Three names she had a lot of good reason to be wary of. One was the Fire Lord, obviously. It wasn’t too long ago when he nearly got Yu Dao destroyed out of his own stupidity. The other two? She could understand Azula being difficult, yet to turn their backs so suddenly and completely was beyond her.

When they came to an abandoned training ground, Zuko turned around. “Alright. We’re here.”

“If you think you can get me to stab a knife in Azula’s back-”

“Listen! I’m not here to talk about Azula. At all. I meant it when I said she’s going around unbound. It’s just…well, you know how she is! I can’t trust her with all these rogue armies running around. Somebody’s got to keep tabs on her,” Zuko explained.

“Besides, we’ve got Mai here if Azula needs some knives thrown at - OW!” Ty Lee rubbed her arm after Mai gave her a swift and rather hard elbow.

Zuko simply sighed from their little spat. “The point is, if you can keep Azula in check, that’s great. I only have the guards there so it can keep those generals off my back. And hers. They wanted her thrown back into that asylum.”

“You could’ve just told her that, but whatever,” Kori muttered. It amazed her. He says that he wants to do good, but then has some secret or leaves some lasting remark that invalidates it. No wonder he and Azula were so dysfunctional. Seemed like the only way they could even interact was through backstabbing, betrayals, and fighting. If this was what they were like when they were allies, she didn’t want to see how they were when the pleasantries failed and fire was being thrown.

Agni help her no fire was thrown today yet. She certainly didn’t see it in the Fire Lord’s eyes right now. They were…well, dull. His shoulders were a bit slumped. It was as if he aged a few years in the span of a few days.

“Can we forget Azula for a few minutes? It’s not why I called you out here.” Zuko swallowed as he collected himself. “I know you’re part of that movement the assassination attempt came from. Your father talked quite a bit about what you’ve been up to.”

“I assure you, our movement was to protest and prevent innocents from being harassed by Fire Nation guards! None of us had any intention of murdering anybody!” Kori still couldn’t believe it. Who’d be stupid enough to make an attempt on the Fire Lord’s life? She wasn’t a fan of his either, but nothing he did indicated he was personally overseeing what was going on in Yu Dao. A bit ignorant and heavy handed, but not responsible. It’s one thing if he stepped in personally and started threatening people.

Yet an attempt at his life without any solid reason for? That was inviting for the army to come in and stomp on their movement. Who knew how many civilians would be caught in such an escalation?

“I know. It’s why I want you to look into it.”

Kori, out of surprise or bafflement, let Zuko continue. “I get it. The Fire Nation hasn’t done Yu Dao much good. I’d even wager you and your people have done more for the benefit of this city in a few months than my country has for over a hundred years.” His eyes went downward for a moment, as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

Yet it only lasted for a moment before he took another breath. “Figure out what’s going on and who sent that kill order. I’ll do things on my end with the assassin. Maybe together we can bring whoever did this to justice.”

The rebel wasn’t sure what to say. It sounded too good to be true. Indeed, after running his proposal through her head, she saw the problem. “I appreciate the offer, Fire Lord. But as long as that captain and his thugs roam the streets, there’s only going to be more violence. Whoever’s doing this wouldn’t be able to get away with it if the guards didn’t build this pyre of theirs.”

“They will be brought to justice,” Zuko responded. “I’m going to try and override this curfew and get a tighter leash on the officers. If you can work on your end and help me bring this mastermind down, that’ll give them less incentive to crack down on your people.”

When he ended, he once again remained silent and waited for her response. Mai and Ty Lee stood on the sidelines watching the whole thing, giving Kori more eyes that were on her. Truth be told, she still couldn’t trust him. Who could? Everyone said he had the hallmarks of his father right down to how he ascended to the throne. And who could say they bring peace when they wear a crown drenched in blood.

Yet he didn’t wear the crown now. No grandeur. Nothing. He was baring his true intentions out to her. If nothing else, she could trust that. “Alright. All I can say is there might be some Fiery Raptors within their ranks.”

Ty Lee snorted. “Of course, Azula would pull something like that.”

“It’s not what you think,” Kori interrupted, making sure they all had her attention. “I wanted some people to back us up in the protests in case things got violent. She offered to have some of her men to back us up and I said yes.”

“Can’t say I blame you there. You go up against soldiers, you’re going to need some muscle.”

“Who’s side are you on?!” Ty Lee yelled at Mai, her frustration with her reaching a boiling point.

The emotionless girl just gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m just saying it as it is. From what I’ve heard, the Mayor hasn’t exactly done a good job of keeping the peace on his end. Can’t blame Azula for taking advantage of something that was already there. We certainly did.” Ty Lee promptly shut up from Mai’s assessment, looking a bit downcast herself.

Kori also had a harsh truth slapped in her face. Her father. Mayor Morishita, the one most responsible for Yu Dao’s woes. He’s the one who ultimately had control of the garrison and determined who was in charge. If it weren’t for him, that captain and his goons probably wouldn’t be able to run rampant and bully the citizens into submission.

Still, it was a hard truth to swallow. Needless to say, his actions were part of the reason her mother left a long time ago. True, she made her peace with it when she saw what her father’s cronies were willing to do. Yet it still hurt too much to ignore.

Something that Zuko noticed. “You know your father’s going to have to go on trial for what he’s done. Right?”

Forcing down her queasiness, Kori crossed her arms and tried not to look like she was hugging herself. “I understand.”

“Good.” Then, the Fire Lord did something rather unexpected. He walked up and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. It was…surprisingly warm. Kori wasn’t sure what to make of it before she saw the scar on his face. Seemed as though she wasn’t the only one who had issues with her parents.

A similar story was told with Mai and Ty Lee, who gazed at her with soft eyes. Kori wondered: what was it about the Fire Nation that equaled parental issues? She had her father. The girls had their parents. Agni help Azula and Zuko for getting stuck with Ozai as a father.

Azula.

“Before I agree to this, there’s something you need to promise me,” Kori declared.

Zuko looked a bit surprised but then gave an uneasy nod. Having got his attention, the rebel dropped the ultimatum. “Give Azula a chance. Stop treating her like she’s the worst thing in the world. And stop treating her like a bomb about to go off.”

“...you know I can’t do that,” he admitted with pain in his voice.

Yet Kori stood her ground. “Nobody’s asking you to forget. I’m simply stating that if you want this thing to work out, you need to uphold your end. That means no threats. No harassments. No lies. And no dangling her over a cliff. Got it?”

He shuddered when she threw out that last demand, but that didn’t soften her glare. Especially when she saw Mai and Ty Lee paralyzed in shock. Oh yeah. Azula told her about his little stunt that almost got him killed. She didn’t care if it was a low blow or not. If it meant he wouldn’t pull the same garbage twice, then so much is the better.

As for Zuko, he didn’t say anything for white seemed like an eternity. Then he gave a defeated nod and said, “Alright. As long as she isn’t a problem.”

Satisfied, Kori turned to rejoin her friends. Since that’s what friends do after all. Though not before she said one last thing. “I do mean it. You try anything without any incentive…just remember what happened with Godzilla. It won’t end well.”

And so she left, leaving the trio behind. Truth be told, she didn’t enjoy having to lay out the cold truth. Yet Zuko struck her as somebody who needed to be slapped in the face and have a rock hammering into his skull in order to get the point across. Agni knows how many of those blockheads she had to put up with growing up.

Mentally she kicked herself for having to go from one blockhead to ANOTHER blockhead. If there was one thing Azula and her brother had in common, it was digging in and covering their ears when they didn’t want whatever ideas they had in their head to be challenged. Sort of made things a bit depressing that it took a kaiju of all things to get them to cooperate.

Let’s just hope they haven’t killed each other by the end of this, Kori prayed.

[sleepsonclouds]

Clouds tropespots: The Spirealm, E07

Episode 7 (Birthday party, 2nd door)

Most important thing in the episode: Nanzhu and Chestnut blackmail Qiushi into moving house! Was there a door? Right.

Competence kink: Lin Qiushi figures out all the time travel nonsense. He's got a chalkboard and everything, and gets mad when his nerdery is interrupted! Hot. They're both so appreciative of each other's cleverness.

Bop: Nanzhu pokes Qiushi, and not for the last time. Cute. Qiushi's inner geek is triggered.

Arming your partner (matching set): While apprehending the door god, Nanzhu sneakily hands Qiushi a metal book end and keeps one for himself.

Synchronized action: Plans have been planned. Nanzhu snaps his fingers, and Qiushi follows the plan flawlessly… To the point of catching Nanzhu when the door god hits him. Unfortunately, the plan fails.

Never has anyone apologised to me (so romantically): Time's running out. Qiushi apologises to Nanzhu for the fact that they're about to die. Nanzhu: "Why?" Qiushi: "This is my door. It has nothing to do with you. You came because of me." I'm so proud of Qiushi for Getting A Clue! Nanzhu: "Not entirely because of you." Why are you so bashful then, sir? Nanzhu will never recover from this.

Giving your partner a ring (cont.): Qiushi puts his ring on again! Nanzhu: "It looks good on you." Subtle, he is not. He looks incredibly soft when handing Qiushi the key.

Breaking into partner's home: The door opens to Qiushi's flat. Nanzhu is already chilling on his couch, petting his cat (!). They both ended up there for Reasons.

Asking partner to move in (coersion): Qiushi agrees to join Obsidian. "Move to Obsidian", corrects Nanzhu. As one does. Nanzhu uses underhanded tactics, including bedroom eyes and holding Qiushi's cat hostage. Look, doesn't petting him look nice… Nanzhu and the cat are even colour-coded. Can't have one without the other: "When you move to Obsidian, Chestnut might let you get closer to him." Nanzhu's completely sure this will work and tells Qiushi to pack up. He's right.

Who's the wife?: Cheng Qianli to Qiushi, still cat-related: "You look like a wife who's been abandoned by his husband." Sure, Qianli means nothing by it. The writers, on the other hand… They'll play around with family/gender quite a bit, quite soon.

What's yours is mine: Qiushi: "My cat is quite close to you." Nanzhu: "What's yours is mine. What's mine is still mine." So perfect. So Nanzhu. No one is at all possessive.

Taking care of hurt partner: Qiushi finds Nanzhu when he's come out of a door, about to collapse. He's just overexerted himself, which doesn't stop Qiushi from worrying and waiting at his bedside. When he does wake up, Qiushi chills on his bed, offers him water etc. Looking at the positioning, Qiushi is starting to take up more space. You get the impression of two people who are comfortable with each other.

Holding onto hurt partner (unnecessary): Qiushi helps Nanzhu downstairs. He's not even supporting Nanzhu, just holding his arm and wrist, more like escorting him… Nanzhu is certainly not protesting.

Next up: -> Episode 8, new door, sickly-since-childhood Nanzhu, new beds (plural)

[jadevalentine-writes]

WIP - Chapter 1 - Good Omens Fanfic

Woops I fell into the Good Omens fandom and am in my second era of being obsessed with David Tennant, please send help. Wanted to get Chapter 1 finished tonight but they WILL NOT. Stop. TALKING. Have this preview instead! <3 Much love - Jade

That night started like many others. 

It was half-past six and they were leaving the bookshop for dinner. Aziraphale was excitedly pitching a new restaurant as they weaved between pedestrians and the few automobiles that decided to snail down the street. 

“Apparently they have the most lovely oysters!”

That nearly stopped Crowley in his tracks. 

“Oysters?” he asked as they approached the Bentley. “Well, I haven’t had good oysters since-”

“Rome,” they both said. 

Aziraphale let the small smile that tugged on his lips blossom when he saw the crooked one on Crowley’s face. 

“Now those were oysters! We can always go to Rome, you know,” Crowley added as he opened the driver door and folded himself inside the old car.

“I know,” Aziraphale said, a bit wistfully as he slowly opened the other door - the Bentley preferred his gentle touch, he thought. “For tonight, however, I’ll make due with these oyst-ow!” 

Aziraphale felt something jab him in the back of the head after he pulled his legs in and shut the door (gently). When he turned to inspect what had intruded upon his skull, he was met with a face full of green foliage. 

“Crowley?” he asked as the demon in question started the engine and the Bentley started to pull away from the curb. 

“M’yeah?”

“Why are your plants in the backseat?”

“Mm?” Crowley turned his head completely around to look into the backseat, ignoring the road in front of him. Aziraphale gripped the edges of his seat as the Bentley miraculously swerved around a parked car and half-dozen pedestrians without Crowley’s notice. 

“Oh yeah,” Crowley mumbled as he turned back around, attention once again lazily on the road. “Just thought they needed some fresh air is all.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. Sarcasm, but just a dash. Meaning whatever the real reason was, Crowley was sore about it. Aziraphale decided to press his luck. 

“Is there something wrong with your flat?”

“What? Ah, no, no, uh, flat’s good.” And then, quieter, “I think.”

“You think?” Aziraphale asked gently. 

Crowley shrugged, unaffected by the questioning or the other vehicles he tore past at three times the speed limit. 

“Yes, I think. Haven’t exactly been there in a few months myself.”

“A few months?” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, no longer worried about the road. “Crowley, what happened to your flat?” 

Aziraphale fought and failed to keep an image of Crowley’s pristine flat in flames from his mind. Then again, Crowley would be quite at home in fire. Suddenly the image warped and the flat in his mind became flooded with a complicated sprinkler system of holy water. He shuddered and shook his head to banish the thought. 

“Nothing happened to it!” Crowley groused. “At least, I hope not. Rather, it’s a bit occupied at the moment. And not by me! Hence the plants. I couldn’t abandon them, now could I?” 

Although Aziraphale smiled at Crowley’s affection for his chlorophyll companions, he would not let his…fondness for the demon distract him from the matter at hand. 

“And just what is occupying your flat so that the plants can’t be there?” Or, Aziraphale dared to think, who?

Crowley growled and Aziraphale could feel his lovely golden eyes glare at him beyond the dark shades. Crowley wrung his hands on the steering wheel and Aziraphale soothed the Bentley with a delicate pat on the dashboard. 

“My…replacement,” the demon spat. “You know, since-” here Crowley waved his left hand which, though somewhat distracting - Aziraphale always did think he had lovely hands - did well to encompass everything that has transpired since Armageddon-that-never-was. “Anyway turns out that my flat, er, the flat, was part of the job in the fineprint.” He sighed and sagged into his seat slightly. “You think I would have known. I invented the concept of fineprint in contracts. Guess I never thought it would be used against me.” 

Aziraphale was silent as he pondered Crowley’s words. They had both been left well enough alone after saving the world. A small price to pay, he supposed, considering neither of them were discorporated. Who would have guessed that their ruse would frighten each other’s sides so much they would have a semblance of worry-free existence for several months? 

At the end of the day, though, both sides still needed to get things done. Tax fraud would not commit itself, you know? Aziraphale supposed it made sense that Hell would replace Crowley since he was no longer truly aligned with their side. Though if that were the true reasoning, he supposed Hell should have sent a replacement a long time ago. 

“Just so I understand, your replacement is living in your, eh, the flat because it comes with the job?”

“Mmhm.” The noise was small, but Aziraphale could almost hear Crowley’s teeth grind together as he spit it out. 

“And they could not be trusted to care for your plants?”

“Oh, absolutely not!” 

“I see…and…does that mean you’ve been living in the car as well?”

Crowley opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He tilted his head side-to-side, his jaw flexing as though trying our words to fit, but ultimately settling on nothing. His jaw clicked close and Aziraphale felt the Bentley speed up in response.

“Crowley, you could have-”

“Oh, look, we’re here!”

The Bentley jerked to a halt, though neither passenger moved forward an inch. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes while Crowley’s mouth stretched in a wide grin. 

“Why don’t you miracle us up a table while I find parking, eh angel?”

[bardinthezone]

Watching Making myself sit through Moffat's Who, trying to give it a decent chance and I can't stand it already. Y'know why?

The stupid fucking love triangle.

Because not only is it just generally annoying as a trope, but it is so poorly written here. It takes over the show in a really obnoxious way and completely flanderizes characters who, in the first episode, were decent people.

Rory is portrayed as a fool for being... concerned that his fiance is cheating on him with the not-actually-imaginary friend she's been obsessed with since childhood, who she ran off with and kissed (A normal thing to be concerned about!!). And just generally, he's portrayed as a bumbling idiot. As the one who just gets confused and makes one-liners about being insecure. And both Amy and the Doctor just brush him off, leave him behind! Mocked by the woman who's supposed to be there for him and abandoned by the Doctor who's meant to keep him safe. He's being reduced to basically just comic relief here, and it sucks.

The Doctor is so.. aloof. More so than 10 and DEFINTELY moreso than 9. He's a silly, childish man who often fails to recognize the emotional consequences of his actions. He has his emotional moments, yes, but a lot of his writing falls victim to what I call "Sherlock Syndrome." When Moffat just writes an aloof super genius and expects the audience to fawn over him because he has good outfits and witty one-liners. Matt Smith is a fantastic actor and he carries a lot of his run, but putting glitter on a turd doesn't stop it being a turd.

Amy is yet another victim of the "every woman falls madly in love with the Doctor" pitfall. Worked with Rose, got old with Martha and after that almost every one-off woman who flirted with him just made me roll my eyes. Her obsession and anger with the Doctor didn't have to be romantic, but Moffat just couldn't resist writing a "strong female protagonist" who's sexy and she knows it, who loves having all the boys fawn over her and flirts without a care in the world. Who's a brash girlboss in charge of her boys, but who also turns into a sobbing damsel in distress at the slightest sign of danger.

All three of these characters are so blatantly characatures of themselves right now that it takes me out of it. They're all just quippy one-liners of their smartness or their brashness or their insecure foolishness. Can these types of people exist in real life? Yeah. But the way they're written about here is just obnoxious. I'm willing to accept that later Moffat seasons might be better than this (at least on the interpersonal conflict side of things), but it's season 1 and he's already dropping the ball so hard.

We could've gotten something truly marvelous, with a PLATONIC conflict based on the Raggedy Man from her childhood finally coming back and offering her freedom from a boring adult life. She's enamored with him, but doesn't entirely trust him because hey, he massively fucked up once already. Maybe Rory is concerned about his place in Amy's life, and Amy tries to be comforting. Maybe she messes up, maybe she says the wrong thing. Maybe she says the wrong thing right before losing Rory to the crack in space and time. But she has to try, because why should I care about a relationship where one person doesn't care about the other's happiness, at least a little? And right now it just feels like she doesn't.

I'm not saying shows shouldn't have interpersonal conflicts and flawed protagonists. They should! But to pull that off well, you have to make us want to see these characters grow. You have to give us a reason to enjoy watching these characters interact, even at their low points. And revisting Moffat's run as an adult, I don't feel enjoyment. I just feel annoyed.

[https-lawrenceslittleone]

PJO YANDERE ALPHABET PART 2

Includes: My OCs (Floraline Sampson, Theodosia Collymor, and Zaria Asghar)

Warnings: Dark content, kidnapping, manipulation, and mentions of attempted suicide as a method of manipulation.

Floraline-

D - Darling (Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darlings will?):

Honestly, this question makes me kind of uncomfortable, so I’m not gonna go into too much detail. But I feel like she wouldn’t really do…much?? Like she’d get upset when he says no to cuddles or general physical affection, she’ll pout and cross her arms and try to guilt him, but nothing too severe.

E - Exposed (How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling):

She is VERY vulnerable and emotional with Leo. She gets upset very easily and she’s extremely sensitive, and she’s quick to weaponize that. She loves him so much, she wants him to know everything about her, just like she wants to know everything about him.

F - Fight (How would they feel if their darling fought back?):

She would be heartbroken. Her first response would be to try and calm him down and talk about it, but if that doesn’t work, she’ll start crying and trying to guilt trip him. If that fails too, and she thinks he might leave her, she’ll have to go with the emergency option: abduction. She doesn’t want to, but if it means Leo will stay with her, she will. She treats him as nicely as possible, though. And she blames it on him, telling him that he “should’ve just listened”. He has to earn his freedom back.

Theodosia-

D - Darling:

She’d be a HARDCORE stalker. Like, hiding in public and snapping pictures of him, sneaking into his cabin and stealing various items of his and taking pictures without his permission. Has a little box under her bed filled with various items she’s taken from him.

E - Exposed:

At first, she isn’t very open. She takes a while to really let herself be vulnerable. But, when she does, she takes advantage of it. If she does something that upsets Jason, she’ll start crying and she’ll apologize and blame it on her traumatic childhood. She promises she’ll get better, but she never does.

F - Fight:

She is PISSED. But she tries to remain calm. She’ll try reasoning with him and calming him down, and she’ll try her best to manipulate him in the process. If that doesn’t work, and he walks out on her, she’s devastated. But that’s fine. She goes around her friend group, slowly making up lies about Jason and spreading them. She’ll spread a bunch of horrible rumors and get her friends to help her, to the point where Jason is almost completely isolated, to make him more vulnerable. It doesn’t take long for him to come back to her, for him to apologize and tell her that she was right; she’s the only person who will ever truly love and understand him. He doesn’t try leaving again after that.

Zaria-

D - Darling:

Probably wouldn’t do anything against their wills, honestly. She wants them to love her, not resent her. Everything she does that’s toxic or manipulative (besides the murder), is unintentional. She doesn’t realize it’s manipulation.

E - Exposed:

Very vulnerable, but in a bad way most of the time!! Uses her trauma as leverage too, but doesn’t really understand how it’s bad. If Percy or Annabeth get upset with her, she’ll cling to them with watery eyes and beg them not to be mad at her or leave her, and she’ll tell them she can’t handle more people abandoning her.

F - Fight:

Angry and heartbroken. She knows she doesn’t really stand a chance against them, especially if they try to fight back physically. She’ll completely breakdown, right in front of them. She’ll be sobbing, vomiting, not able to talk. If they left her, she’d be so devastated and just wouldn’t be able to function for weeks. But after a couple months, they all get back together when Zaria “attempts” suicide, purposefully failing. She writes in her “suicide note” that she couldn’t live without Percy and Annabeth, and when they find out, they’re guilted into getting back with her.

[bi-bard]

You Don't Want to Lie Anymore - The Corinthian Imagine (The Sandman)

Title: You Don't Want to Lie Anymore

Pairing: The Corinthian X Reader

Based On: The Boy in the Black Dress

Word Count: 728 words

Warning(s): mentions of murder & abandonment

Summary: (Y/n) opens up to the Corinthian about the real reason that the two of them are really friends.

Author's Note: I was scared shitless to write for this song, but here we go.

YUNGBLUD WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST!

-------------------------------

I knew who the Corinthian was.

It didn't take long to figure it out.

But even when I first found out, I couldn't bring myself to care. Not because I agreed with his actions, but because I couldn't picture myself losing him. I didn't want to see my life without him if he decided to abandon me. I had been through that all too many times.

It was funny, really.

My fear wasn't him killing me to protect his secret. It was him leaving me. That was because only one outcome left me isolated all over again.

The Corinthian seemed to appreciate my acceptance.

He wouldn't ever go into detail, but he wasn't hesitant to tell me where he had been. Maybe he just liked being completely honest. Maybe he didn't put that much thought into it.

I sometimes forget that not everyone gets stuck in that spiral of questioning why someone stays.

I never thought he questioned why I accepted him. I always thought he shrugged it off.

Until one night when I was sitting at my desk, scribbling into a notebook, only half-focused on the words that were scrawled on the page. The Corinthian was sitting on my bed behind me, leaning back against his hands as he silently studied me.

I don't know what he thought he would see while I was hunched over with my pen in my hand.

"Why do you keep letting me in," he asked.

I only stopped writing for a moment, forcing my brain to truly take in the words no matter how much his sudden speaking caught me off guard. I didn't have a good answer. I just mumbled something about him being my friend and that it was my job to support him.

"Yeah, but I am what your kind would call a monster," he continued. "Yet, you open your door. You make me dinner, offer me coffee and tea, let me watch movies on your couch. You've even felt safe enough falling asleep next to me."

I set my pen down, turning to look at him. He was now leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"You do everything that by definition you shouldn't," he said. "Why?"

I chewed at the skin on the inside of my cheek as my eyes danced around the room. I knew how to put the answer into words. I just didn't want to say them. The Corinthian would think I was pathetic if he heard me. If he heard the truth.

"(Y/n)... my dear, I just want to know."

I took a deep breath, almost feeling like I was suffocating under the pressure. "I was scared that you would leave if I judged you."

He tilted his head at me.

"It sounds stupid," I mumbled as I ran a hand over my face.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear it."

I looked at him again. He was silent. Patient.

When was the last time I had seen pure patience etched on someone's face?

"I've grown used to people walking away," I confessed. "For one reason or another. I let them down or I'm not what they want. Always the same ending. I'm left alone. But you... You stayed. I saw you in my dreams when I was a child and here you sit. I'm an adult and you're asking about my failed friendships and my isolation. And you haven't left yet. Why would I risk you leaving by not accepting you?"

There was a long pause.

I took another deep breath. This was it. I had gone too far. This was where I lost him.

I turned back to my desk, ready to hide any tears that may fall.

I jumped a bit when a kiss was placed on my forward.

"I am not going anywhere else," he promised. "I refuse to abandon you, darling. I am going to stay right here. I promise."

I felt tears building in my eyes as I smiled at him.

My arms wrapped around his torso, my face ending up pressed against his stomach. One of his hands rested on the side of my head, rubbing circles with his thumb. His other hand touched my upper back.

I was happy to accept every part of him.

Because he did the same for me.

That was all that mattered to me.

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[springbons]

ASGORE ISN’T A BAD GUY AND I’M TIRED OF PRETENDING HE IS! (Note: I am wrong. I change my view.)

(Everything below this is Conjecture and my failed opinion, but I refuse to delete it for archival reasons. Consider it a tagline of my failure. Do not take me seriously, cause after review of what others have told me, the whole POINT of the storyline is both of them were being stupid. But then again, this post is mostly “She’s not perfect either, and people need to not hate asgore and give him the love he deserves, and to be able to look past what he did because what she did was just as bad.” That’s the TL;DR.)

That’s it. I’ve had it. I’ve had it for too long. I’m not even mad at the people, I’m more mad at Toriel. Toriel is a selfish woman who caused a million problems, blamed her husband for it, pushed it all onto him to solve, and he’s just trying to do what he can to SLEEP AT NIGHT. Let’s get into it!

WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO DO?

Let’s start with a line that Toriel says at the end of the run, because this is the hardest to account for IMO, and has pissed me off the most; "If you really wanted to free our kind, you could have gone through the barrier after you got ONE SOUL, taken six SOULs from the humans, then come back and freed everyone peacefully."

Now put yourself in Asgores shoes. You’re a big, fluffy, push-over who has barely enough strength to fight a single human without feeling like scum of the earth. Do you think he would be able to go out and just slaughter 6 innocent lives and live with himself? Do you think he could sleep when every time he closes his eyes he sees one of their faces? No. He made a choice, a difficult one: He found a solace in compromise, the people of the Underground would go free eventually, but he would not hunt those merely living their lives. Let them fall into the mountain, be their own foolishness that lets them get killed.

IT’S HER FAULT TOO!

But Toriel here thinks that’s not good enough. Like his choices were all wrong, as if he had a right one. Well, Ms. Know-It-All, let’s count every single choice you’ve made and see how many fuck-ups we can rack up, hm?

She let a human (Considered Enemies of War at the time) into their home, child or not.

She was so bad at supervising them at she didn’t catch on when they started stuffing Buttercups in their mouth

Ontop of that, had their plan succeeded, ALL humans could’ve ended up dead in some ungodly reign of terror, who knows what would’ve happened then.

Then when his husband declares War on humans for killing their Children despite the fact they were completely peaceful while on the surface, instead of being his only voice of reason and beacon of light remaining, she runs off and secludes herself in the ruins to make him feel bad.

She then spent years manipulating every human child that ever fell into the underground into staying with her, forcing them to stay in her home against their wishes until they finally had to fight her just to leave

And then she doesn’t help them when they DO leave, instead deciding to let them go into this “Harsh and Cruel” world completely unprepared and alone, not even answering their calls.

And she never leaves because why? Because she just couldn’t abandon the grave of her first child. This child, that she brought in, which caused so many problems. Her son is dead, Frisk is haunted by Chara, and all the blame was put onto her Husband, who’s just doing his best.

I even got some extras!

CAUSE WHY NOT?

You could technically say she causes the Genocide Route. Her negligence to watch over The Player, (or Frisk,) as they slaughter countless monsters is humiliating to say the least. She lets a child run rampant, completely on their own, in a dangerous place, and not only do they get hurt in Pacifist, they could level an entire town in Genocide before they get to her home. And then? She reads them a story, and bakes them some pie. How. Lovely. You blind-ass goat.

Another thing that pisses me off is did she ever stop to think how her husband felt after all of that? His children, dead. His wife, gone. A man with no strength and will, left with the toughest possible decision in the worst situation. Do you think that if Asgore didn’t have hundreds-of-thousands counting on him to run the Underground, (Oh yeah, she left him with that responsibility alone too btw,) that he may not have been able to take it? He had to stay strong for so many, he had no other option, but if it was just him? If all that happened while they were above-ground, while he wasn’t king? ...Do you think he would’ve killed himself from the stress alone? Cause I certainly do. Asgore is a very, very hurt soul who didn’t deserve any of what he had to face or do, and Toriel is a fool. I rest my case.

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 8: Flight

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

What happened? What in the Hells just happened?

His fingers putter over the greyed skin of his arm, but he’s not even looking as that blistering pain dwindles to a dull sting. He stares at the wide-open door, sun swarming across the floor, mouth agape.

He has seen panic. Hells, fear is well known to him, but he has never seen her succumb to panic. She never wavered. Even when they peered certain death in the face, she rose like a phoenix from the ashes, all glorious flames and roaring fury.

What had he said? His eyes shift furiously from side to side as he strives to recall the last moments. She recoiled from his touch, winced as his hand drew near, and her heartbeat thundered so furiously he worried it might burst in her chest. She never shied away from him before, even when she awoke to him hovering over her that night, fangs bared.

Gale enters, wide-eyed and dishevelled, and he nearly groans out loud but stifles it. He knows what’s coming before Gale even notices he’s standing, stiff as a corpse on these damn stairs.

Gale’s eyes find him with a scowl, voice drizzled in hostility hot enough to melt infernal iron, “Astarion, what did you do!?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he retorts hoarsely, voice constrained, trying to push down his annoyance, “We were just,” Gods, what does he say, not the truth surely, “-talking.”

Gale pokes a rigid finger into his chest, and by the Gods, he almost breaks it, hands balling up at his sides. He’s not sure he’s ever seen the wizard so irate. It would usually positively amuse him, but his mind is focused elsewhere.

“If you hurt her again, Astarion, I swear on Mystra-Ryl-”

His temper gets the better of him, and he snarls like a rabid animal, fangs bared in warning as he shoves the wizard backward, “You’ll do what, Gale,” he spits, voice coarse as sandpaper, “Try to seduce her again with your silly parlour tricks?”

Gale gnashes his teeth, mouth twisted in a grim line, “No, Astarion. I admit my feelings for her have not departed. She is a rather unique soul, after all,” Gale sighs, “But she told me, in no uncertain terms, might I add, who her heart belongs to. You hold it in your very hands, my friend. Do not squander the second chance she’s given you. You are a lucky man to have her devotion.”

There is heartache in Gale’s expression, meshed into his voice. His tongue feels clad in stone, sitting heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth. Words fail him, a peculiar occurrence. He’s used to being able to weave masterfully articulated webs with his linguistic talents, but he cannot think of a response.

He smooths back his hair or perhaps messes it further; he cares not, “Indeed, I am.”

He needs to think, and he cannot do it when he’s making impetuous errors, letting anger get the better of him. He stalks up the staircase, silent as a thief shrouded by shadows as the wizard’s damn eyes bore into his back, scars bared, making his skin crawl.

Sitting on the bed, he leans forward and puts his head in his hands. His thoughts are chaotic, streaking like lightning bolts across the black void. They jumble together in untidy disarray, starting and stopping without fully rendering in the first place.

Fuck, this is his fault. What has he done to her? She’s different than when he left. Skittish, shy, and afraid of everything, just as he had been once. She tries to hide it from him, but he recognizes it reflected in those beautiful doe-eyes that gleam like the morning sun.

He inhales sharply, a futile venture for him, but sometimes, even 200 years later, those old habits of life still spring his dead body into action. He frowns at himself, springing upright with artful grace and fluidity practiced and perfected over centuries and paces his room with his fingers laced behind his head.

He’s never wished he could extinguish the sun so desperately. If only he could wrench it out of the sky and fling it into the heavens, blotting it out, he would set out after her. Darkness is mere hours away, but it feels like lifetimes.

Despite his best efforts, he thinks of home. He’s missed it since he softly shut the door behind him that night. The memory haunts him like no other.

He slips off the bed, careful not to jostle it and wake her, an easy feat for him. How often had he simply slipped away from his targets when Cazador came for them in the dead of night? Countlessly. He cringes inwardly at the memories that surface of the life she rescued him from, giving him this new, bright future to look forward to. Only in this moment that once radiant future is bleak and endlessly lonely.

It’s better for her, he tells himself. After all, he cannot give her a real life if she’s bound to the shadows with him, both the umbrage plaguing his mind, holding his body hostage, as well as shackling her to the night.

He tucks her in, making sure the blankets are tightly swaddled around her, and she stirs slightly, a soft sigh rising from her parted lips. He stills instantly and listens intently to her heart. It continues its languid, sleepy thumping. He concentrates on it far longer than he needs to, committing that beating melody to memory, for he knows there will never be another. She is her, and she is unequalled, the only person in two centuries who looks at him, almost through him at times, and truly sees him.

His bag is already packed, hidden close to the door, but he can’t get his legs to advance, so he stares at her. Gods, she is beautiful beyond words. All unruly, long hair, pouty lips, tapered ears and ravishing scales adorning the delicate skin of her face that glint in the last ebbing glow of the fire starting to sputter out in the brick-clad fireplace. He wants to reach out and let the cool pads of his fingers be warmed by her skin, feel the glassy smoothness of those shining scales. He wants her to wake, simply so he can put this off and spend another day with her, or maybe he would tell her so she could talk him out of this idiocy.

Gods, she would plead with him to stay, and he would, because he wants to with everything he is, so he dares not touch her.

Tears stream out of his eyes despite his best efforts to keep them imprisoned. He brings his hand to his mouth to bite back the sobs that are threatening to sputter out. He grits his teeth and glides over the floor like a ghost, grabbing his bag. He takes one last look at her with a panging hope she will awaken and bring an end to his cowardly retreat.

She does not wake.

He lets himself out into the cool night air, closing the door behind him with barely a click, and he runs as fast and fleeting as his feet can carry him because he cannot hold back those noisy, breathy sobs a moment longer.   

Your lengthened strides devour the ground beneath you, blurring everything around as you avoid obstacles and people alike. Your blood thrums in your ears, your heartbeat pounding against your temples, and a sheen of sweat veils your skin, droplets rolling down your forehead. You sprint forward with reckless abandon, a rabbit fleeing from the snapping fangs of a starving wolf, trying to push your legs to move as fast as your thoughts are spinning out of control.

Guards at River Gate eye you suspiciously as you blow past them into the country surrounding Waterdeep. Crashing through the forest, you duck under boughs and willowy branches, dodging around undergrowth, feet spitting pebbles and stones. Your lungs burn as if embedded with sparking cinders as you draw in gulps of musty, earth-scented air. Stark tree limbs rake scratches into your face and pull at your hair like skeletal fingers.

You do not heed your surroundings. You are fleeing, and nothing will thwart you. You will run off the very edge of the realm and surrender to the abyss if it will put an end to this agony.

The ground falls from under your feet, sending you careening forward, rolling down a steep embankment. An excruciating pain splits through your head, and white peppers your vision as black starts to trespass around the edges. You clamber to hold onto consciousness, but it slips like sand through your fingers.

The suite of the Elfsong Tavern is dark. You shift on your mattress, trying to get comfortable enough to slip into rest, but your body is as restless as your mind, and you gaze at the ceiling. The sleepy breaths of your friends resound around you, and you can’t help but feel a pang of envy. You are tired, and Gods, you crave rest, but it does not come.

There is rowdy commotion from the pub, still flourishing and restless as the citizens spend another night indulging in drink, dance and each other. Slipping out the door, you descend the stairs, sit at the counter and order yourself a pint. The ale is piss-poor, bitter and bites at your tongue and throat as you swallow. Your mouth twists, and you stare into the flagon, scowling at the offending taste.

“Not your drink?” Astarion chuckles, resting his hip against the counter with an amused grin and those crimson eyes that glimmer mischievously.

“No,” you admit, “I prefer something… harder.” Tilting your head back, you gulp it down anyway, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I have not been able to rest easily since my siblings came for me,” Astarion taps the counter hard, getting the attention of the barkeep. He points to a bottle high on the shelf and signals for two drinks, not caring to raise his voice over the shouting of the other patrons.

“I won’t let them harm you, Astarion,” you vow, eyes sparking and igniting like dry tinder, “I would die before I let them take you.”

Astarion smiles, cocking a brow at you, “Feisty with a little drink, aren’t you?”

He jokes, but you can see that he’s scared as hell. He’s wearing the mask again, pretending he’s anything but afraid, but it cracks under your penetrating gaze.

Glasses filled with some russet-coloured liquor slide over the counter. Astarion nods curtly in gratitude while pushing one toward you, “Try this, darling. I think you will find it far more palatable than the swill.”

You regard the glass and stare at Astarion, who sips it while watching you with an earnest yet devious grin. You take a tentative sip and are delighted by the heavily spiced liquor that leaves a fiery burn in your throat and warms your belly.

“It’s lovely. I guess I will have to bring you with me every time I want to imbibe,” you tease.

He chuckles, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, “Where you go, I go.”

I love you.

The alcohol loosens your tongue, and you bite it to stop yourself from spilling all the emotions that still sit turbulent and voiceless in your heart.

This is not the time for heartfelt confessions.

You throw back the rest of the drink and start toward the door. Astarion calls out from behind you, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You glance over your shoulder with a wily smile slithering across your lips and a wicked flash in your eyes that could rival his own, “Probably to get myself into some trouble. I do tire of playing hero.”

The truth that keeps you awake. You tire of having to be good, everyone’s expectations thrust upon your weary shoulders. It was so hard to balance it all. You have to be everything for everybody at once - the picture of morality for Karlach, Wyll, Halsin and Gale, cold-blooded for Lae’zel, Shadowheart and Astarion. You must be both sides of the proverbial coin. It is exhausting.

Stepping out of the tavern, night breathes chilled air on your face and into your lungs. It feels fresh and pleasant compared to the tepid warmth of the pub. Sauntering down the street, Astarion pops out of a barely noticeable, dark pathway ahead of you, and you nearly shout.

“Trouble, you say,” he drawls, his arms bent behind his back as he takes his place beside you, “Consider me intrigued.”

Astarion follows as you weave through the shadowed streets and alleys to your destination. He doesn’t ask where you are going or what kind of mischief you’re leading him into, likely because he doesn’t much care.

“When we met, you said you were a magistrate,” you remark after he explains some dilapidated building used to be a courthouse, “Was that true?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I was, though I admit, not a very good one.”

You chuckle at him, “I expect you broke the law as much as you enforced it.”

“ When I enforced it,” he corrects with a clever smile tugging the corners of his lips upward, “I wielded the law masterfully when it suited me and broke it artfully when it didn’t, which was often.”

“I’m shocked,” you say deadpan, “truly.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “Yes, you look positively beside yourself, scandalized even,” he smirks flippantly, “What about you? What was our fearless leader up to before all this madness?”

“I-” you pause and consider lying but dismiss the reflex as it rears. You don’t want to lie, especially not to him, “I was travelling, looking for someone.”

Astarion’s eyes shoot to the ground at his feet, scrambling from side to side. When he finally speaks, there is apprehension braided into his voice, delicately weaved between practiced reserve, “A former lover?”

“No,” you frown, clamping your jaw so hard your teeth click audibly, “An enemy.”

Astarion’s brows furrow, but before he can question you further, you step toward the door of Facemaker's Boutique, “I feel like shopping. What do you say, Astarion?”

Astarion beams wide, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, “Move over, sweetheart. I’ll get the lock.”

You bow shallowly, splaying your hand on your chest theatrically, “My hero.”

He crouches down languid and graceful in front of the door and shakes his head, “I don’t play hero. I’m afraid you will have to settle for a morally questionable saviour, at best.”

You’re my hero.

“Heros are boring anyway,” you shrug while watching his fingers manipulate the lock with expert precision, just as they did your body. You feel the flush of heat as it runs down and spreads between your legs, “I would choose morally questionable any day, especially when it is so devastatingly beautiful.”

“I am quite dashing,” he smirks smugly, his eyes creasing at the corners while he side-eyes you, “Why else would you be flushed and wanting while we commit a crime?” 

How did he know?

Nearly choking on the air, you try to rein in your composure quickly, “What I want is a new outfit, and you are taking an awfully long time. Having troubles, Rogue?”

“Cheeky pup. I thought I would give you a moment to continue imagining my fingers handling your body as well as they do this lock,” the lock clicks instantly. He stands confidently, smiling, “You may be able to hide your truth from the rest of them,” Astarion wraps an arm around your waist, tugging your body flush against every curve of his and places a soft kiss on your lips, “But you cannot hide from me, Sorceress, and you never have to.”

Astarion releases you suddenly, and you stumble backward, catching yourself on the iron fence behind you.

Astarion chuckles, “Now, shall we?”

He pushes the door open, walks inside, his footsteps soundless, and listens. His eyes find yours, and he points to the top floor, indicating someone is upstairs.

Astarion pulls you in close again, lips fainting over your ear, “He sleeps, but if you keep bumbling about, you will get us both in the trouble you seek.”

You smirk at him and head for the shelves, trying on various hats and coats, only to discard them on the floor when Astarion cringes and shakes his head. Astarion examines the jewelry and gems, rolling his eyes at the poor imitations.

You drag him into the back with you, “Come on, Astarion,” you tut, whispering in his tapered ear, “There has got to be something in here you like.”

“Oh yes, there is something in here I’ve had my eye on for quite a while,” his arms wrap around you, lips hovering so close to yours that you can feel the chill, “Quite a while, indeed.”

Moving you to the side, he steps away from you quickly, leaving you tottering on your feet yet again as if his presence has intoxicated you further.

Astarion’s fingers flit over various chemise and doublets before landing on an opulent obsidian-black coat with red twisting dragons climbing up the breast and polished silver metal clasps to bring it all together.

He slips it on over his shirt, “Well?” He spins for you, allowing you to take him all in, “What do you think, love?”

“It’s beautiful,” you stutter, “you’re beautiful.”

The moment it comes out of your mouth, you know you’ve said it far too loud and Astarion’s eyes flick to the ceiling above you. Footsteps trail soon after, and a groggy voice shouts obscenities down the staircase.

Astarion grabs you quickly, putting his hand over your mouth to stifle your surprised grunt, and pulls you into the darkest corner of the shop.

“Damn thieves!” Figaro shouts, shuffling into the room straight past you and Astarion, huddled in the corner. Your bodies are flushed together so tightly that you don’t think you could get any closer to him.

Well, except if he were inside me.

The thought makes heat rush to your face, and your cheeks burn. Astarion grins at you, cocking his head to the side, observing you through thick lashes. He plants a lingering kiss on your cheek, making you redden further.

You pull his hand away from your mouth as you stare at the back of the man standing with his hands on his hips regarding the mess you’ve made of his shop. When he turns around, his eyes cast around and bypass the little corner but snap back, brows furrowed in an angry scowl.

Astarion knows you’ve either been seen or are about to be, and you can hear his dagger slip out of its sheath. Shaking your head at him, magic glowing on your fingertips, you cast Sleep before Figaro can utter another word or call for guards. The man tries to fight the wave of exhaustion that encompasses him, but he drops to his knees and flat on his face quickly enough.

“Well, you are quite handy to have around. Had I met you in another life, we would have terrorized this city,” Astarion steps out of the corner, releasing his tight grip on you, and regarding the sleeping man, “I believe we have overstayed our welcome, don’t you?”

Astarion grabs your hand, dragging you behind him, hurrying out the door while keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. He takes you around back and through the darkened park to avoid any passing guards who may notice your hasty retreat.

Your chest heaves, and your heart pounds wildly, invigorated by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Astarion turns to look at you with that delighted expression, and you dissolve into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

Astarion chuckles with you, “By the Hells, the exploits I let you drag me into,” he teases, dragging his fingers across your cheek, “You are quite a lot more fun than I gave you credit for when we first met.”

“Oh, Astarion,” you giggle, eyes narrowed with a cheeky smile, “You have no idea just how bad I can be.”

“I await the day you demonstrate exactly how naughty you are,” Astarion drawls suggestively, his eyes hooded and seductive. He holds his hand out to you in a shallow bow, “May I have this dance?”

You look around the park, covered in shadows that flit with the breeze in the moonlight, “Here? Now?”

He shrugs, “No time like the present. Who knows when we will have another chance?”

“I’m not a dancer, Astarion,” you warn while taking his hand.

Astarion deftly pulls you into a dancer’s embrace, “Follow my lead and try not to step on my toes, will you?”

“No promises,” you kiss his cheek while he starts taking slow steps that are easy for you to follow.

“You’re making this quite the challenge, you know,” he whispers, resting his cheek against yours.

It almost sounds pained, and you pull back slightly to examine him, trying to decipher his meaning, “What are you talking about, Astarion?”

His hand finds your hips, pulling you tight against him, and he grinds himself into you. His desire for you is evident, bulging in his trousers, “Need I explain further?” He purrs.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Astarion,” you insist, “I told you we could wait as long as you need, and I meant it. That’s not what I want from you.”

I want you to love me.

With a lift of his arm, you spin. When Astarion pulls you in, his hand comes to the small of your back, and he dips you low with sure, confident steps, “What do you want from me then?”

“You,” you breathe, “Just you, as you are.”

His lips mould to yours in a short kiss as he brings you upright. When he pulls back, you’re struck by the ceaseless devotion mirrored in the scarlet pools of his eyes, your lips parting with a small gasp.

“I’m yours, my love,” he coos softly near your ear, laying your hand on his chest and holding it.

Your arm wraps around his neck, holding him tighter, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Astarion hums a tune familiar to you, and the dance carries you away.   

You feel like you’re floating as if being rocked by gentle waves, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re still caught up in the memory of Astarion’s slow swaying under the stars. Something is pressed hard against you, cold and unmoveable, and it all recurs to you in a flash flood.

Astarion’s crimson eyes wide with distress and confusion, recoiling and falling to the floor, his mouth moving but his words not making it passed your ears.

Running through the manor, Astarion’s pained yelp and dashing through the streets like a crazed animal who can’t flee the wildfire fast enough.

The embankment, tumbling, your body striking something hard, and the slow fade to black.

Fuck.

Your eyelashes flutter as you try to force your eyes to open. Gods, it feels like they are clamped in a vice and fused shut, but you must get up, get home, to Astarion. You try to stretch out your numb limbs and are met with resistance.

Astarion’s voice drifts through your alertness, “Easy, darling. If you continue this wriggling, I might just drop you. Are you awake?”

Astarion? 

Your vision is carpeted by a gauzy haze, but you can faintly make out the darkened canopy of the trees moving above you.

“Astarion,” you murmur groggily, hand coming to your aching forehead, “Astarion, I’m so sorry.”

At this point, you’re not even sure if this is real, and you mutter on, sputtering out words insensibly. A frosty gust of wind howls through the trees, icy teeth nipping your skin, and you shiver harshly.

“I’m going to put you down for a moment,” he cajoles in a velvet-wrapped voice, “Can I trust you not to bolt off again?”

You blink to rid your vision of the fog that muddles it, and your eyes coast gradually to his, “I won’t run.”

Astarion eases you down, slow and measured, until you’re sitting upright on the carcass of a long-ago fallen tree. You groan with the movement, teeth clicking aggressively in your mouth as you tremble.

“Arms,” Astarion instructs, crouching in front of you with one knee on the ground. He gently grabs one of your arms and slips it into the arm of his coat and then the other before pulling it tightly around you and fastening it up.

“No,” you try to argue with him, “You will be cold.”

“Well, aren’t you just talking absolute gibberish,” he tuts with a click of his tongue, “My dear, I am dead, remember? My body is colder than this wind.”

You nearly giggle, but it dies in your throat before it can ever be expressed, “I’m so sorry, Astarion.”

“This is not the time for such a discussion,” he objects softly, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your thigh, “Just tell me you’re okay. That will suffice for now.”

“I’m okay,” you lean into him, and he wraps his arm around your back.

Astarion’s cry reverberates in your mind, tangling your heart in barbed wire and wringing it, “I- Gods, I hurt you, didn’t I? When I opened the door. Fuck.”

Your eyes examine him as your fingers trail down the smooth skin of his arms until they feel it - the greyed, cracked skin, rough as tree bark.

“A trifling matter; do not concern yourself with it,” he pulls his arm out of your hand, “We must be getting back to the manor.”

Astarion adjusts to pick you up, but you push him away, “I can walk.”

He stands with his hands on his hips, giving you a judgmental glower, “Well, then please,” he waves dramatically, “Lead on.”

You attempt to stand, but your legs are wobbly beneath you like a newborn foal, and you sit back down, muttering profanities under your breath.

He groans, “If you are quite done being disagreeable, I would very much like to get you back to the manor before dawn. I’ve had enough sun for one day.”

“I am not grumpy,” you scoff, scowling at him.

“You’re cold,” he shrugs with a light-hearted snicker, “Of course you are. Now, come on, hold onto me.”

You scold yourself for looking this weak in front of him, infantile and feeble, but you do as he instructs and wrap your arms around his neck while he lifts you into the air and begins the meandering route back to Gale’s. The delicate swing as he walks, his scent all around you, wafting from his coat, and the pure exhaustion tows you in and out of consciousness no matter how hard you try to rally against it.

“Do you remember visiting the boutique in Baldur's Gate,” you sigh in one of your fleeting moments of wakefulness.

“Which time? The time you so stubbornly interrupted a perfectly good murder,” he admonishes, and you smirk, remembering the look of absolute irritation twisting his mouth, “Or the time you almost got us caught engaging in misdeeds because you were admiring me too loudly, again interrupting another perfectly good murder.”

“Admiring you too loudly,” you confirm, “Where did that jacket go?”

Astarion adjusts nervously, “I took it with me when I left. A sentimental attachment I could not bring myself to relinquish.”

The question tumbles out unceremoniously before you can stop it as oblivion begins to swallow you whole, “How many came after me, Astarion? How many have warmed your bed since I did?”

Astarion lurches so brutally that you wonder if he’s going to drop you, “Good Gods-”

The void conquers you, slipping you back into obscurity. If he answers, you don’t hear it.  

The morning sun streams into the window, gilding the skin of your face in a radiant, warm glow. Your eyelashes flutter as you stare at the open window through heavily lidded eyes. Fluffy, white clouds drift through the brightening sky as birds greet the reborn sun with their songs. Closing your eyes, your hand slips over the sheets and bumps into familiar chilled skin. You run the pads of your fingers over him, but instead of skin smooth as the finest silks, a grainy texture grates against your fingertips.

You frown and open your eyes to look at your fingers. A white powder coats them, and your brows knit in confusion as you rub them together to test the texture.

Ash.

Lurching upright, hurling the blankets away, you stare at Astarion resting peacefully beside you. His hands are crossed over his chest as if being laid to rest, his skin dull, and he does not stir.

“Astarion,” you whisper, reaching out to him.

The moment your trembling fingers contact his body, he crumbles.

A shrill, deafening scream tears painfully from your throat.   

Still screaming, you catapult off your bed and instinctively hurl yourself toward the window, only to find it closed and shuttered tightly. Rivulets of tears run down your hot cheeks, and you clutch your chest as if it might ease the pain. You slip down the wall to the floor, bringing your knees up and folding your arms around them.

Astarion bursts into your room and drops to the floor, arms outstretched, and you throw yourself into them. Your fingers curl into his flesh firmly, testing if he’s going to disintegrate under your touch.

“Another nightmare?” he murmurs, one hand at the back of your head and the other rubbing up and down your back.

“You, you, you, Gods,” you falter, not even wanting to form the words on your tongue. You shudder and force it out, “I woke up, the window was open, the sun and you were...” You can’t finish the sentence.

“It wasn’t real,” he coos, “I’m here.”

You can’t help it, and you flex your fingers into him and run them over every part of him with firm pressure.

Astarion takes your hand and smiles, “Handsy this morning,” he quips, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” you smile while he wipes your cheeks.

His brow cocks, “How do you know you woke me?”

“Your hair is a mess,” you chime, running your fingers through the wild curls, tousling it further.

“I couldn’t very well style it while you screamed bloody murder. The wizard is lucky I even bothered to put my trousers on,” he laughs, plucking a dry leaf out of your hair, “I am not the only one looking rather unkempt. I didn’t want to wake you last night.”

Looking down, you realize you’re still in your clothes from last night, including his coat, “You put me in my bed?”

“Well, you are positively filthy,” he sighs, still picking dry leaves and other plant matter from your hair, “But mostly, I thought it best after what happened yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion. I-”

I’m scared.

His fingers come to your lips, and he shakes his head, “Not now,” he opens the cabinet at your bedside and grabs a Potion of Healing, placing it on the table, “First, drink that, then a bath and food. I can hear your stomach growling obnoxiously from my room.”

“But I-”

Astarion wags his finger at you, “No, no, no.”

You cross your arms and scowl, “I’m not a child, Astarion.”

He smirks, “Clearly. Children tend to listen. As endearing as you are, darling, if you insist on being obstinate, I will simply ignore you until you do as I ask,” he shrugs.

“You would ignore me?” you scoff, “Really?”

“I would do anything to get you to eat so long as I no longer have to hear your stomach. Gods, you mortals can be quite irritating,” he giggles, pushing himself to his feet.

You glower at him, “Fine. You win this time.”

Astarion nods with a smug smile and leaves you to tend to yourself. You stare in the mirror and groan. A cut splits the skin of your forehead, bordered by a dark bruise that is all hues of blues, purples and sickening yellows. There is still debris in the tangled nest of your hair, and you can smell yourself under the scent of his coat.

At least he didn’t comment on that, I suppose.

Gulping down the Potion of Healing, you rush through bathing and dressing, jogging downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Your heart feels heavy with everything left unsaid and unresolved, and you sit at the table, picking at your food pensively, lost in your thoughts.

Tara sits on her perch in the corner, twisting her head and giving you a questioning look.

“Tara, where is Gale?”

“Mr. Dekarios is giving a lecture today,” she informs, starring daggers at you, “Did you do it?”

You shake your head with a sigh, “Not yet.”

“Idiot,” she admonishes, jumping and trotting off with her fluffy tail held high.

I know.

“A charming feline,” Astarion watches her walk off, “What were you supposed to do?”

You skip over the question, “I’ve completed your damn list.”

“Such a good girl,” he purrs, chuckling, “Very well. I suppose it’s time we talk. My room or yours?”

You tangle your arms behind your back and glance away as a blush reaches your cheeks, “I like yours better.”

Astarion leans his shoulder against the archway, crossing his arms, “Why’s that, my dear?”

“It has you in it.”

“You are adorable when you’re trying to make amends,” he smirks, “Go on then. Get upstairs.”

You sit in the chairs by the fireplace as it crackles and pops in awkward silence while Astarion regards you with red eyes, burning as bright as the fire, leaning back in the chair. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, unsure where to begin, how to explain what happened or how to ask him the question that started this whole mess.

Finally, Astarion leans forward, “I’m worried about you. It is not like you to give way to panic, not like that. Beyond that, you are shy and afraid of me, I think.” You open your mouth to speak, and he puts his hand up, “Do not try to dispute it. I can see it in your eyes,” he sighs and leans back again, “I do not wish to pry. Gods know I have my fair share of demons that I prefer to keep closeted, but I would like you to feel like you can be honest with me, and you can be honest with me.”

It’s time to stop hiding.

“I think I’m broken,” your voice is quiet, eyes swimming with tears. When you blink, they rain down your cheeks, “I lost part of me, something I haven’t been able to find,” your eyes find his, “You’re right, I am afraid, but it’s not of you, Astarion. I’m afraid of losing you again.”

Astarion descends to his knees in front of you, bringing his palm to cradle your face, “You may feel lost, but you are not lost alone. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Where do you go, Astarion, when you left?"

“I ran,” Astarion returns to the chair and rubs his hands together. His mouth is in a tight line with a look of pure misery, “I ran as fast and as far as I could manage. I believed the further I got away from home, from you, the easier it would be to let it all go.”

Running… Something I know far too well.

Reaching out, you hold his hand, swishing your thumb over the back, “Did it work? Was it easier the further you got?”

“No, love. It was not,” a single tear slips out of his eye, and he inhales a shaky breath, “By the time I realized what a fucking fool I had been and returned home, you were already gone. I spent the rest of the time trying to track you down,” he pauses, wiping away the stray tear, “Do you recall what you asked me last night?”

Your brows furrow, and you close your eyes to summon the memories. What you can remember is murky and fragmented, “No, I’m sorry. What did I ask?”

Please tell me I didn’t ask that question.

Astarion’s jaw clenches, “You asked me how many have warmed my bed since you,” he leans back in his chair, regarding you thoughtfully, his fingers holding his chin, “Do you truly believe that I was gallivanting around Faerûn taking strangers to my bed? Is that what you think? Is that what this was all about?”

Gods, me and my big mouth.

“I- I’m sorry,” you can’t give him any other explanation because you don’t know yourself, “If you don’t want to tell me, I understand. It’s none of my business, after all.”

“Hells love, I told you I had not been touched in a while, did I not? There was no one else,” he shakes his head slightly and then sighs.

“You never had…” you trail off and look away, staring into the fire.

“Sex? We are both adults. You can say the word.”

Taking a deep breath, you meet his patient gaze, “You never had sex with anyone else?”

“No one,” he purrs while grabbing your arm and pulling you into his lap, “You’re the only person I want to make love to. Why did you not ask me this if it was bothering you? You can ask me anything. I thought you knew this.”

“I was afraid of the answer,” you fidget with your fingers, “I don’t remember when I started doing that.”

Astarion wraps his arms around you and lays his head against yours, “After I left, I presume,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

He can tell I’m not the same person he left. What if I’m too different and I never get better?

“Are you having second thoughts, Astarion?” you swallow, trying to rid your voice of the audible quiver, “I would understand.”

“What?! Absolutely not,” he pulls back, and his hands come to your cheeks while he looks deeply into your eyes, “I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life, and I’ve had a very long life,” a lopsided grin spreads across his lips, “I am rather looking forward to courting you again."

You giggle, “Court me?”

He grins, “If you call me old again, by the Gods, I swear I will tickle you until you can’t bloody breathe.”

“You sound old,” you taunt, jumping out of his lap and running away from him playfully.

Astarion is out of his chair so quickly you barely registered when he started getting up. He chases you around the room but nimbly catches you with one arm, hauling you up into the air by your waist, when you try to make a mad dash around him.

You laugh loudly as he pins you to the bed, holds you down and does exactly what he warned you he would do until you’re begging in stuttering, breathless pants for him to stop.

“I warned you,” he sweeps loose waves of your hair out of your face with a bright smile, “sassy girl.”

“Maybe I just wanted your hands all over me,” you chime, eyelashes fluttering while you blink slowly at him.

“Hm, I could be convinced,” Astarion murmurs while running his index finger over the smooth scales on your face, “May I kiss you, friend?”

“Oh, Astarion,” you run your finger up his ear to the tapered point and look intensely into his scarlet eyes, “We have not merely been friends since I crawled into your bed at the inn.”

“Catching onto that, are you?” he chuckles, kissing your forehead, “Took you long enough.”

Leaning forward, you take his lips in yours. Your fingers curl into the white curls at the nap of his neck, and you relish the comforting coolness of his skin. Astarion’s tongue slips past his lips, and he groans as he coaxes little sighs of pleasure out of you.

Astarion leans his forehead against yours, “We will take things slow.”

Slow? Gods, I don’t know if slow exists when it comes to him.

“Astarion, do you think… Would you be okay with…” your heart kicks up into your throat, and you trail off, trying to subdue the panic.

“Come on, darling,” his finger sweeps over your bottom lip, “Out with it. Would I be okay with what?”

“Do it afraid.”

I will.

Anchoring your eyes on his, you sift through your fear and find your resolve, “Can I move into your room with you?”

He blinks, eyebrows rising, making his eyes round, “You wish to share a room with me? Truly?”

You glance away, unsure of his reaction, “If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to share your room.”

“Look at me, my love,” he purrs, using his fingers to direct your gaze back to his, “Our room,” he smiles, “It’s our room.” 

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I hope you're enjoying reading this! Let me know what you think :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

-I know it was upsetting (my apologies) when I toyed with the idea that Astarion may have slept with other people after he left. I hope this chapter applies a soothing balm to that heartache.

So I decided to try something new with this chapter - a little glimmer into Astarion's mind. Let me know if it works, and I might continue switching perspectives so we can explore his memories and thoughts as well.