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chans-room · 5 months

Text

Stolen Sunshine

Pairing: Bang Chan × Non-Gendered Reader

Length: 10k

Rating: Mature/21+ | This fic is dark. Please read the warnings and make an informed decision on if you are prepared to read this fic. I am not including these warnings lightly because they are heavily featured in this fic.

Warnings: explicit and non-explicit smut, yandere vampire chan, vampire typical age gap, stalking, obsessive behavior, vampire mind control, non-con/dub-con, murder, major and minor character death, gaslighting, using fear to control/manipulate, mental instability, manipulation, forced siring, knives, blood, blood sharing, Chan and the reader injure themselves and each other in order to feed, delusional behavior, hunting, trauma, violence, needles, someone being kept against their will… you all get the idea lol... if i missed anything please let me know!!

Important! this is now a one shot so if you read the first part, Thorn Bitten, please be aware there is more! The new part starts after the second red divider!

Again: please heed the warnings! They're there for a reason.

Chan has been so lonely for so long. He was turned into a vampire so long ago and he's never even entertained the idea of turning anyone or trying to seek out other vampires. He is certain he's going to live in unhappy solitude… until he sees you. He's overcome by the desire and the hunger for you. You’re so achingly human; he doesn’t want to kill you he just wants you. He spends the next few months trailing you, finding out about your habits and your likes and your desires. You’re a rose in the eternal graveyard of his life.

He then quietly slips himself into your life — he goes from someone you happen to see around to someone who you’d consider a friend. You don’t question his horrific sleep schedule, or the fact that you generally only see him after dark; you’re just happy he’s in your life when you can see him. He tries not to be too overbearing, claiming you barely know each other and he’s sure you have other friends to see. He tells you he’s always been something of a loner, and being in a new city with his weird work schedule makes it hard to make friends. But you like him. He’s kind and funny and a little goofy, and he makes you laugh. You tell him that he can’t say he doesn’t have any friends because you’re his friend now.

But then he becomes more than a friend. The bar was crowded and one minute you were dancing with a stranger, and the next Chan was making you come apart on his fingers in the bathroom of the bar. He pulled you into his arms and when he kissed you, the world fell away. It was so easy to get drunk on him — the feeling of his arms around you, his hands wandering and groping and squeezing, the way he’d nibble on your lip. It was addicting.

It started a whirlwind romance; he’d basically taken up residence in your apartment after the first two weeks. You didn’t know it was possible to be romanced in the way Chan does. You came home to roses — the thorns always meticulously removed — and dinner, or a new outfit and shoes, or tickets to an event you’ve been discussing almost every night.

And he was incredible in bed.

Attentive, passionate, talented, and fully focused on your pleasure. He gave you head with a carnality you weren’t sure someone could possess, like he wants to eat you whole. He throws you into mindless bliss multiple times before he’s satisfied, but even then there’s always a hunger in his eyes, turning them almost black. It’s flattering really.

Things begin to unravel when you meet up for drinks with a few of your friends. They text you the next day about how… off Chan is. They talk about how he stands unnervingly still, almost like a statue, and that to everyone but you, he is cold and closed off. And they say he stares at you, as if you’re the center of the universe but also sort of like a predator hunting his prey. You have no reason to doubt your friends, but you can’t help but feel protective of Chan. They just don’t know him like you do. They don’t see the man who brings home dozens of roses for you every week, each thorn removed so the sharp stems never kiss your delicate skin. But you also trust your friends.

And that night, you try to be more aware, more conscious of him. Instead of letting yourself drift into the abyss of passion and carnality that he brings you. He notices immediately that you aren’t giving into his charms the way you usually do; it puts him on edge. He can’t lose you. You’re the first tether to humanity he’s had in years. You’re his perfect rose, and now your friends are becoming nuisances. But they don’t know how good he is at pruning thorns now; he’s been doing it for months. And he can be much sharper than they could ever imagine.

So he asks you about it and makes sure to soothe your woes. Your friends must have just caught him in a weird moment. He isn't obsessed with you or anything, he just is really grateful that you're in his life. And his explanations make sense. You spend the rest of the night, and the weekend holed up in bed together after he runs out to get you some wine and dinner and a fresh bouquet of roses.

You text your friends the next week telling them to back off Chan. If they don't like him, that's fine, but that’s their problem and you’d appreciate it if they kept it to themselves unless it was something serious. They argue that it is but you won’t hear it.

Weeks go by, fully wrapped up in Chan. He finally brings you to his apartment, and a few days later suggests that you move in. Your lease is coming up so why not? Besides, your work cut back on your hours so you were about to be forced out anyway. With Chan’s constant reassurances that you wouldn’t be intruding, you agreed.

Once you move in things get more serious and you realize just how much of a recluse Chan is. He really is alone. No friends, no family, no one calls him and he works mostly for himself. And he hovers. You struggle to find it as flattering as it was before you moved in but now it just feels like you can’t get a minute alone. He’s always popping up around a corner, showing up unexpectedly at girls night, bringing more roses to your office.

It’s after your birthday, the last one you’d ever really experience, that everything goes from bad to worse. The day itself is lovely. You and your friends go out for dinner and you meet Chan at a bar for drinks. But the morning after, your friends send you pictures and you can’t help but agree; there’s something off about your boyfriend.

Neither you nor Chan are the focus of the picture, but he’s standing behind you, lurking over your shoulder, and he looks exactly like your friends described. He looks consumed… obsessed. And it settles on your skin in a cold sweat. It’s like something out of a horror movie. But the worst part is his eyes; they managed to catch the light in a funny way, the same way cats do. You can’t explain it but there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to run. Far.

So you do; you pack up your things and your friends help you move out and they wait for you by the door while you break up with Chan. You try to be kind and explain how it was too much too soon and that you wanted to still be friends, but you needed space. And your heart broke when he cried and pleaded for you to stay with him. But his eventual acceptance gave you peace — he agreed he’d give you space but he promised you one thing: his love, eternally. You fought the fluttering in your heart as he said it, and left with your friends.

You didn’t see him for weeks after; but you felt like you’d always just missed him. The smell of his cologne hanging in the air, or the flash of a black beanie disappearing behind a corner, and the roses you saw everywhere. And they were everywhere. A random one on a wall you walked past home from work, a couple on the counter at your favorite coffee shop, a stray bud in the coat pocket of a stranger, a pair on the small table of the date you regret agreeing to. And all it makes you do is miss him more. Chan’s presence clings to you and you can’t help but feel like you made a mistake.

Especially now that your friends seem to be growing more and more distant. After your breakup, you saw them nearly every day. But now you’re lucky if you get a text in response. It feels like it’s been weeks since you’ve actually seen them. Their absence makes you miss him more. It gets hard to remember why you even broke up.

Then you see him. He’s standing in line at a coffee shop, twirling a rose between his fingers. He looks so lonely, so sad. You can't help but go up to him and ask how he’s been — and the way he looks at you makes you forget everything for a moment. He’s so… gentle, and kind, and you can’t help but melt when he tells you he’s been carrying around a rose every day just in case he runs into you. He asks you to get back together with him, and promises he’ll do anything you ask. He reminds you he promised you his eternal love.

But then you remember. Remember why you left. What made you run. And you apologize and slip out of the cafe, but not before he slips the rose between your fingers and you agree to see him again, maybe at the bar you went to for your birthday with your friends. He agrees and you leave. A thorn bites into your thumb as you walk out, making you drop it as the door closes behind you. And you miss the way his gaze shifts, the hunger in his eyes.

The next day, one of your friends is found dead in the park. Police said it was a random killing but it's weird that they were drained of blood. And you fall apart – none of your other friends answer your calls, and you have to brave your friend’s funeral alone. You don’t know why no one is answering until another one of your friends is found, and another after that, and so on until it’s just you. Only you left after a series of unbelievable accidents and suicides that don’t make any sense. It's nearly unbearable; you wish you had just one person with you, just one friend to help bear the weight of the grief. But everyone is gone.

Until you meet Felix. He just shows up one day as you wander home alone and brings light back into your life – he’s kind and friendly and helps you mend your heart. It’s easy to fall in love with him and you do. Chan was all obsession and passion and carnality; sometimes just being around him made you feel drunk and out of control. But Felix made you feel alive, truly alive.

You can’t help but compare them; you know it’s unfair. But Chan’s broad shoulders that made you swoon and feel small never gave you the same comfort Felix’s slight frame brought you. Or how Chan’s eyes would go dark and hungry every time he saw you, but Felix’s eyes lit up and almost sparkled every time he caught your gaze.

You and Felix had been walking home from your 6-month celebration when you ran into Chan again. As soon as he came around the corner your heart was in your throat. You should have known not to take that way back to Felix’s place – it was too close to where Chan lived and you had forgotten. And it was too late, too dark, too secluded. You felt trapped, and you knew Felix couldn’t tell how off Chan seemed. You never talked about him, you didn’t see a reason to.

It happened so fast you would never have been able to give the police a proper statement. One second, Felix was making a comment about how Chan needed to leave the past in the past, and the next, he was on the ground. Neck bent at an unnatural angle, lifeless eyes boring into yours from the ground as blood dripped out of his mouth onto the cement. The sickening crack echoed in your head as you stared at him, gasping for air. Trying to think, hell even trying to breathe, felt too complicated. The light in your world had gone out again. You couldn’t do anything but stare at him and hyperventilate until eventually the world went black.

When you came to, everything felt muted. You couldn’t figure out where you were, or where you’d been. You could vaguely remember that something awful had happened, but even that was out of reach. And then you saw them — hundreds if not thousands of roses covering every inch of the floor around the bed, all varying shades of red. It looked like a sea of blood. And then you remembered. Felix.

It couldn’t be real. Felix couldn’t be gone. It was just a dream. You curl into the bed, and look around and your heart softens. He’s not gone. He’s there next to you; asleep in your bed. You know it's him from the freckles that are spread across his shoulders and the soft blond hair that’s curling at the nape of his neck. You sigh and reach out to him but you freeze when your fingers meet his skin. He’s usually so warm, like sunlight lives inside him and radiates out. But he’s ice cold. That’s when you realize he’s not snoring like he usually does. Actually… he’s not breathing at all.

You can’t get away fast enough. The faster you get away from it the easier it’ll be to convince yourself it's not real. You just need to get away from it. Because it’s not Felix, your Felix. The cold thing in the bed next to you was just a thing. You know there's something you’re missing, a piece you’ve missed. You can’t remember how you got there or where you are or who would do something so horrific to you. To Felix.

You all but throw yourself out of the bed, not caring about the roses being crushed under you. But the thorns bite into the tender flesh of your bare feet, tearing into the soles like fangs. You vaguely register the pain from your ankle shooting up your leg; you look down and see the swollen, bloody bruise, but you can't’ remember where it’s from. It’s all too much and you can’t fight the scream that tears out of you.

And then he’s there. Chan with his dark eyes and looming, only now there’s no kindness in his gaze anymore — he looks down at you like you’re a pest he has to deal with. But then… he’s gone. It’s Felix, smiling wide and eyes crinkling at the corners as you fling yourself into his arms. He’s so warm and comforting. You barely even notice he doesn’t smell fruity and soft like he normally does.

He pulls you back into bed and into his arms, fussing over your wounds and scolding you for putting too much pressure on your injured ankle until he’s undressing you, desperate to make sure that there’s no other injuries scattered across your body. He’s more hurried and aggressive than normal, taking to nearly ripping your things off. But you can’t blame him. You need to feel him under your hands: real, alive… Still him.

You trace the lines of his face as he sinks into you, eyebrows furrowing. Something about his weight between your legs feels foreign. His presence is… broader than you remember. Felix is so slight, so thin. As fast as the feeling came, it disappeared, but you don’t dwell on it for long — you can’t with the tendrils of pleasure curling around you, threatening to drag you under. The whiplash of emotions makes you feel drunk, the world blurring and losing focus. Your head lolls to the side and for a second you think you see Felix’s unblinking eyes staring at you from the empty spot on the bed. Blood pooling under him. But you blink and it’s gone. You tear your eyes away and reach out to him, sighing when you feel his warm skin under your fingers.

You shake off what you’re sure was your lingering nightmare and refocus on him; the way his hands pin you to the mattress and skim over your skin like he’s trying to memorize you. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he pushes you further and further toward release. You haven’t felt this out of control since… You can’t remember. There was a time when this feeling was normal though, you remember that much. And the faint prickling of frustration brews in the back of your head but the sensation of Felix’s mouth sucking a bruise into your neck has all conscious thoughts falling away into nothingness.

You come undone with a scream, vision blurring, and you think you see a pair of black eyes hovering over you but when your vision clears, it’s Felix’s soft, dewy eyes staring back at you. An expression you’ve never seen on his face before. It reminds you of how someone else used to look at you. Who was it…? It doesn’t matter. Not when Felix is there, and he’s holding you so tight as he pulls you into a restful sleep.

You wake still wrapped in his arms, but you’re freezing. His arms feel like ice around you as you shiver and try to cuddle into him for warmth, but there’s something wrong. His body is too large, too muscular. His arm is tight around you like a vice, and when you look down at his skin you can’t see the constellation of freckles. Your heart is in your throat as you begin to thrash against his hold on you, but his deep voice rumbling behind you makes your heart calm. It’s him. You look again and you can see the marks splashed across his skin; you don't know how you didn’t see it before.

He helps you bandage your feet and ankle before carrying you to the kitchen and placing you on the counter. You blush and try to convince him to put some clothes on, or at least let you put some on, but he argues that there’s no one around to see so why does it matter? Plus, it’s dark out and your head is pounding; you feel like you haven’t eaten in days. You can’t remember the last time you ate, or had any water.

Wait. You’d gotten ice cream. Felix had convinced you to go after you had dinner. He’d bought you a cup despite insisting you didn’t need it. You can’t remember finishing it though. Something had happened, and you’d dropped it. How long ago was that? What made you drop it?

You gasp and nearly drop the glass of water when you feel his shoulders wedging between your thighs and his mouth on you; the world shifts on its axis and you feel yourself slipping back into the depths. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pleasures you. Your vision swims and you watch the hair between your fingers turn black, and the features on his face blur until they resemble someone else entirely.

You kept trying to place him — the name was on the tip of your tongue and there was something about him that made you want to run. The blinding fear started to slither up your spine, but you were already drowning. The pleasure building was impossible to avoid and your tongue felt like lead in your mouth — you couldn’t do anything except moan and scream as the wave of bliss crashed over you.

Black spots danced in your vision as you fought the panic attack and aftershocks of your orgasm. You tried to curl in on yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed by your nakedness. But his deep voice and strong hands caressing your calves settled your frayed nerves. His snickering laugh cut through you. He’d never done that before; he sounded so cruel — it made you feel small and silly.

Once your vision cleared you saw it was him, your Felix, shaking his head at you as you shrunk in shame. His hair was the same dusty brown you remembered, his eyes the same deep brown, his skin still smooth and unblemished, and the dimples you loved so much.

You told him what you thought you saw, and admitted you couldn’t remember the last time you ate, or what day it was. He just cooed at you before saying he’d go out and get you something to eat. The thought of him leaving set you on edge; there was something not safe. Something that happened. What was it? You tried to protest, but he simply waved you off. You tried to argue but he grabbed you by the shoulders and stared into your eyes, telling you not to move or make a sound until he got back.

With that he was walking away, leaving you there. You heard the door click shut and you tried to push yourself off the counter but your limbs wouldn’t cooperate. It was like your brain was disconnected from your body, unable to force yourself to do anything. And you were freezing again — the sharp, prickling sensation of goosebumps spreading across your body was the only thing that reminded you that you weren’t spontaneously paralyzed. Everything became overwhelming; the hard marble cutting into the backs of your thighs where they hung over the edge, your hips cramping from your poor posture, your elbows beginning to shake from bearing your weight.

You could feel the tear run down your face as you began to cry. But sound refused to come out of your throat. You try to scream but the most you can manage is a ragged gasp. Your lungs burn and you can barely see through the tears you can’t wipe away.

And then he’s back, and you can move again, and you can’t stop wailing in his arms. You don’t know what happened but it’s like you couldn’t breathe when he was gone, and never want him to leave your side again. You can’t explain what happened; how do you tell him that you couldn’t move and couldn’t scream and could barely breathe while he was gone?

But he soothes you and carries you back to bed, settles you against his chest and feeds you like a child as you hiccup and cry. He tells you that you must have had a panic attack while he was gone; it's the only explanation as to what happened. You’d never had one before, at least not like that. But you feel safe now, now that he’s back. His broad shoulders make you feel safe, protected in his embrace. He promises he won’t leave you like that anymore — that you never have to be scared and vulnerable when Channie is around. He’ll always keep you safe.

Your mind is swimming again as you let relief flood your nervous system. You had never felt so out of control, so disconnected from yourself. You were so grateful for him; Chan always took such good care of you. He’d always removed the thorns from your roses just to make sure you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself. No one had ever done that for you before. You drifted back into unconsciousness, smiling at the sight of the bouquet on your side table.

The next few days followed a similar pattern – you slept most of the day, waking every so often delirious and confused and alone, unable to move and overwhelmed by panic until he reappeared and calmed you down. You had concluded it was some sort of sleep paralysis, and it was worse during the day. The light streaming through the slivers of space your curtains provided were disorienting. And when he would appear, he’d snuff the remaining light and curl around you until the sun fully set beyond the horizon.

Nights became when you thrived. You felt human again shrouded in darkness — he was always by your side when you woke, curly chestnut hair falling into his dark eyes. He makes you cum until your vision blurs and then drags you up and out of bed, dressing you and pulling you out of your apartment. He supports your weight as you walk to the corner store, your ankle is healing but it needs more time. You and him collect all the items you need to make dinner before your hands begin to shake and your chest gets tight. The ice cream in the freezer reminds you of something, something bad.

He tucks you into his embrace and kisses your forehead, explaining to the kind, elderly shop attendant that you developed severe agoraphobia. He said it was due to an incident on the way home from your anniversary a few weeks ago. You try to remember what it was, but an image of a man with blond hair and freckles flashes through your mind and you nearly scream. He had done something to you, and you don’t want to remember anymore. But his name stabs through your consciousness; Felix. The name feels like acid in your brain, sending searing pain and memories of blood and violence through you like a bullet.

When you get home you ask Chan about him — you can’t remember but you’re so afraid. He tells you it’s not good for you to remember, but you push and he tells you that you were attacked when you were on the way to dinner. The sun hadn’t even set when he had attacked you. Chan had run into a shop to get you a bouquet, he’d forgotten to get you one for your anniversary. While you were waiting for him, a guy you’d dated, Felix, had been upset about you breaking it off with him and he had cornered you.

When he said it, it was like you were reliving it. The look of rage on his face, the knife, how your clothes had torn and the sharp rocks digging into your bare feet as you tried to run away. Blood on the pavement and spilled ice cream. A sickening crack and your screams bouncing off the buildings in the narrow corridor.

You couldn’t stop shaking as Chan recalled how he heard you scream from the street and ran out to find you running toward him, bloody and terrified, ankle nearly broken. That's when he tells you that the police still haven't found Felix — they think he skipped town.

The knowledge that he’s still out there sends you into a tailspin. You’re freefalling into terror and your only tether to reality is the dark brown eyes hovering over you and the hand on your face. You can’t hear his voice over the ringing in your ears, and before you finally fade you see him again. Lifeless eyes staring into yours, freckles contrast against pale, sickly skin.

You have more night terrors. Well, day terrors. A shred of light filtering into your room is enough to cause a desperate fear to erupt inside you. Sometimes when you wake up, you think you see Felix, just staring at you from the chair in the corner. But your mind has turned him into a monster. He’s begun to rot, wasting away into something more gruesome and horrific. You don’t know what’s worse — the moments when he’s so real in your dreams, or in the moments between sleep and wake when you think you see him decaying before your eyes.

But Chan is always there to put you back together. He wipes your tears and gives you solace in his arms. He whispers in your ear and quiets you until you feel steady again, then he covers your body with his and drives your nightmares away until you’re boneless, floating in ecstasy.

Until the night he isn’t. You wake peacefully for once, but the silence echoes in your apartment. You know Chan is gone from the absolute lifelessness of your surroundings. But then you see him. Sitting in the same chair he always does in your nightmares. But this time he’s not lifeless, decaying.

He’s real, and he has a knife.

You feel lightheaded from the fear, frozen in your spot in bed. You force yourself to move, pushing yourself out of the place that’s given you safety and onto the cold hard floor. Your ankle aches in protest, but you fight through it as you stand on shaky legs, baking yourself into the wall.

He glares at you, pushing himself out of his seat while you slide against the wall, inching toward the door. He takes one step toward you as you reach the opening, and you try to scream yourself hoarse. Sound refuses to come out of your throat; you can’t believe this is happening again. You fall to the floor in your attempt to escape him. You keep trying to ask him why he’s there, why he won’t leave you alone, but you can’t squeak out more than a gurgling gasp as you try to flee.

That's when he tells you.

At first he just wanted to have his chance to show you what you needed, who you needed. He killed your friends; all of them. He’d made sure to kill them in different ways so there would be no suspicion, staged some to look like suicides or accidents. He just wanted you back. But when you’d chosen Chan, he wanted you dead. He had planned on killing Chan as well; he had wanted you to be completely alone when he killed you, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to face you that night.

You couldn’t breathe as he explained it. Nothing made sense, and yet it all made too much sense now. Felix had been the cause of so much of your pain, and it had all been because he was punishing you for not choosing him. And now you were going to die because of him. You hoped Chan was safe, that he’d left before Felix had come in. You also prayed he’d be okay after finding your body — he loved you so much. Finding you would kill him, at least, you hoped it wouldn’t.

You barely felt it when the knife cut into your chest. Sliding cleanly between your ribs and puncturing your lung. Instantly, you felt like you were drowning, choking and gurgling on blood as you fell back onto the hardwood. Felix’s smirking face swirled in your gaze before he disappeared, and Chan’s face replaced his.

You tried to explain what happened, but it was too much. You couldn’t stop choking on the blood. Chan didn’t seem worried, he just stilled your frantic movements, and kissed your forehead. He whispered in your ear that he was going to save you, that you were ready now to be saved. You couldn’t understand what he meant, but it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. You felt him pull your body into his lap, and his lips on your neck, then a sharp, searing pain.

You felt as though your throat was being flayed open, muscles and veins on display but you couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move or think to force yourself to do anything. Simply blinding pain and horror. Then it felt like your blood was turned to molten lead, burning you from the inside out as it poured out of your open wounds.

And then it stopped. Time simply ceased to exist for a moment as the pain cleared. You opened your eyes and saw him smiling down at you. He looked so happy, but he had something streaking down his chin and neck, beginning to flake off. You realized it was blood, your blood.

He told you to save your energy, your body was still recovering. You couldn’t understand, but when you tried to speak, you could only take a rattling inhale. He warned you against trying to speak again — your throat had been torn open in the struggle and it was still healing. He told you to just listen to him, to let him explain.

He told you he had saved you — Felix had broken in while he had been out getting you more roses. He had punctured your lung and when he had gotten there you were drowning in your own blood. But Chan had made it back in time to get him off you and give you something that would save you, heal you. He said it would also change you. He said he’d had the same thing happened to him, but it would be okay, because he had been alone. And you had him. And you would always have him.

He tilted your head back and sank his teeth into his wrist, ripping into the flesh until blood pooled on the surface and down the sides. You struggled against him, but he was too strong. The liquid poured into your mouth and down your throat as you thrashed.

But then you tasted it. It was a supernova of sensation and you couldn’t get enough. Every nerve-ending in your body felt as though it was being set alight. It was more intense than any orgasm you’d ever had; endless waves of euphoria washing over you as the blood danced across your palate and his fingers brushed against your skin, trailing over you gently before skimming underneath your clothes.

You’re torn between screaming from your ravishment and latching harder onto his wrist as to not stop the flow of blood pouring into you. But Chan made the choice for you, pulling his wrist away as he forces you toward the edge of your orgasm, trailing his fingers lovingly down your neck. His fingertip swirls in the healing viscera at the side of your throat, smiling as he brings the bloody appendage to his lips. He sucks the pad of his finger into his mouth and you see the lights of a billion galaxies explode behind your eyes as you come apart.

You’re not sure how long you spend keening and shaking in his arms — it could have been minutes or hours — but he held you through it and explained the depth of his love for you. He had once promised you his eternal love and now you were going to receive it. You would never have to be without him again; your love was now preserved for all time.

You didn’t understand what he meant but you didn’t care. You were safe; Chan had saved you. Something you couldn’t describe crawled under your skin, it felt like something akin to power. There was an assurance you’d never felt before — you weren’t sure if it was Chan being there or if it was what he had done to you. Either way, you never wanted it to end.

—-----

The next few months passed as the previous few had — sleeping through the day and waking with the last rays of light. But sleep came much easier for you now. There were no more nightmares or sleep paralysis, just endless sleep in the arms of Chan.

You figured now that Felix had been dealt with, you were safe from him in both your waking life and your dreams.

And Chan had made your transition easy. You were already accustomed to spending your nights awake and your days asleep, but now it was more serious. He’d explained how the sunlight could burn you now, but how most windows filtered enough of the UV light to where you couldn’t feel it from indoors.

He still went out some nights just after the sunset. You hated when he was gone — it’s like you could feel him in your head whispering to you. Whispering his love, his devotion, his endless praises. You weren’t sure if it was real or some lingering hallucinations from before. It felt so wrong, so foreign; to have him in your head like that felt like a violation of something sacred, something yours. But you didn’t even know if it was real.

Then he would come home, bringing dozens of roses and you’d forget his voice echoing in your consciousness. He didn’t bother to take the thorns off anymore; he said you’d never have to worry about something as trivial as that bothering you anymore. You were stronger, he’d made you stronger. And you made him stronger too. That’s why you had to take care of each other.

That’s what he said when he pulled you into his lap and took your thorn-bitten fingers into his mouth, sucking the blood off your skin like it was honey, moaning and praising you as he did. The feeling of it was more erotic and sensual than anything you’d ever experienced. It felt like he was taking part of you and stitching it into his own being; it was the closest thing you’d ever experienced to divinity.

And then he’d dig the tip of a knife into his palm, allowing the blood to pool as you salivated, watching it slide down his wrist as he held you in place. He talked about how you needed to learn control and restraint if you ever wanted to go outside again, but you could barely hear him over the smell of his blood invading your senses.

The cloyingly sweet, sticky scent permeated your brain and rendered it useless — your entire universe was reduced to the palm of his hand and the weeping fluid coming out of it. And then he would let you go, your lips immediately latching onto the cut, slowly stitching itself back together in front of your eyes. You kept waiting for the effect to wear off, the same way that a drug is never as good as the first time and you spend the rest of your life chasing that high; but it was the same every time. It was transcendent; you had never felt more connected to another person, to the world.

You could feel his consciousness brushing against yours, your souls intertwining. It was overwhelming enough without Chan pushing himself into you, but it always made it better. You would come undone with his blood smeared across your chin, streaking down your neck and across your chest; and yours staining the recesses of his mouth, along with the dotted fingerprints your healing flesh left behind on his face and neck.

You were addicted to it, to him. You would have done anything to stay holed up in your apartment, feeding on each other, fucking, and spending the next few hours basking in the afterglow. You barely felt the shallow cuts Chan littered across your bare skin while you came down, the world muted in a hazy golden light. The only reason you knew what was happening was the lingering feeling of his thoughts folding into yours; his devotion, obsession, love. But you couldn’t blame him — you felt the same way.

It was six months before he had decided it was time you leave your apartment, claiming you needed to reacquaint yourself with the world again. He told you that you’d be moving soon — you couldn’t stay much longer; there would always be a 5 year clock ticking down once you moved somewhere new. He also said the time would pass like minutes to you now, and you believed him. 6 months had passed in the blink of an eye — you could hardly believe that you broke up with him more than a year ago.

Wait. You’d never broken up with him. He was your Chan, the love of your life. There was never a reason to break up with him. You’d broken up with Felix. That’s right. You barely remembered him anymore, now that he didn’t plague your nightmares. You were only reminded of him when Chan traced his tongue along the faint scar that sat between your ribs, the place where he would whisper his apologies as he held you in his arms.

The first time he successfully dragged you out of your apartment, you nearly had a breakdown in the lobby of your building. You weren’t used to the world anymore; too much light that made your eyes water, too many sounds that bombarded your sensitive eardrums, too many scents that burned your sinuses like acid. But the worst part was the feeling of being exposed. The feeling of being surrounded by so many people, when your world had been reduced down to you and Chan was overwhelming. But he was there, holding your hand and whispering reassurances into your ear.

Before you’d walked out of the apartment, he had warned you not to get too close to strangers. He said you might have trouble controlling yourself around them. He wasn’t clear why you’d have trouble but you agreed; you had no desire to interact with anyone but him. But with the days getting shorter, there were more and more people out and about after sunset, and you had lost Chan in the market, his hand slipping out of yours and before you knew it you were surrounded. A sea of faces all blurring together but the worst part was the smell of them.

Rotten. Stale. Some were too sickly sweet it made you gag and some were so bitter you had to breathe through your mouth, but somehow it only made it worse. You could feel their scents decaying in your palate. You fought the urge to vomit as you pushed your way past the crowd, finally being able to take a breath after you made it to freedom. That’s where Chan found you, resting against the wall in a secluded alleyway, breathing heavily and trying to settle your churning stomach.

He was frantic when he found you; his hands shook as he held your face in his hands, inspecting your features before crushing you against his chest. He sings your praises, whispering in your ear about how impressed he was by you. You couldn’t understand what he meant, but you didn’t care. The smell of him washed over you and muted the scent of everyone else. Your nose cradled in the juncture of his neck made your mouth water. Your teeth scraped across the thin skin reveling in the faint line of blood that bloomed on the surface of his skin, shivering as it spread across your tongue.

The sensation of having Chan in your head grew almost deafening. It was so overwhelming you couldn’t focus — and in the next moment, you were staring at the ceiling of your apartment, gasping for air, holding onto the mass of curly hair between your legs. You didn’t know how you’d gotten there; you tried to sort through your memories and remember, but it was a void. And the waves of pleasure building made it hard to focus. You decided to drop it, giving into the sensations, your eyes sliding shut in mindless bliss. But then…

Freckles, and sunshine, a bright smile and warm brown eyes, small, soft hands and tender fingers, a thin waist and small shoulders. The feeling of safety but not in the way you’d experienced in the last year. It was something more gentle and trusting — it was the knowledge he’d always support you, but never limit or hide you. The details washed over you like a tidal wave. Felix.

Then a crack, screaming, and those same eyes, dead and unseeing staring back at you. Blood pooling underneath his open mouth.

You gasp, pulling yourself away. You couldn’t make sense of what you had imagined. Felix wasn’t soft — he’d been possessive, rough. He killed your friends and he had planned to kill Chan. He’d been the one to end the life you used to know. Wasn’t he?

You couldn’t make sense of it, and you sat up to question Chan about it. But he was staring at you from the foot of the bed, head tilted to the side and his eyes darkening. You felt a familiar chill run down your spine as you stared at him. Your chest felt tight and the feeling of being cornered washed over you. The only thing your brain could formulate was run.

You pushed the thought away; you couldn’t run. Chan was your protector. He loved you. Why would you run from him? But there was something you were missing, something you couldn’t unravel in your mind. You fought the anxiety swelling in your chest and snuffed it out, letting your body relax under his hands as you sigh and apologize. His fingertips dug into your thighs as he chuckled and let his head hang, shoulders sagging in relief as he sinks back into you, whispering in your ear about how he thought he was going to lose you.

You couldn’t shake the terror that gripped you. It wasn’t until the sun began to rise and Chan fell asleep against your chest that you allowed yourself to breathe fully. The immediate fear had subsided, and you felt your control over your mind returning.

You hadn’t felt so clear in months and you weren’t sure how you didn’t realize it until now; it was as if you’d been sleepwalking for months and now you had finally woken up.

Everything felt different. It was like you’d gotten a massage; your body was completely relaxed. No aching muscles, no joint pain, no lingering soreness. You weren’t even tired. You felt like you could run a marathon without breaking a sweat; but the best part was the silence. It felt like you were finally alone in your brain again. No Chan brushing up against your consciousness, no having to worry about what he’s going to say or think about the microexpressions you make, no haze caused by the blood or your orgasms. It gave you time to sort through all of the questions you–no… Not you. Chan. You finally allowed yourself to consider all the questions that Chan had shoved into the recesses of your brain.

Fractured memories started filtering through your mind — the ones you thought were real, but the more you prodded at them, they began to corrode and melt away into the bitter truth that had been hidden from you.

Chan had killed Felix that night in the alleyway. He’d snapped Felix’s neck without hesitation and brought you home with his corpse and used his image to manipulate you. To make you his again. But this time you were never getting away from him. He’d made sure of that.

You came to the horrific realization that he had stolen sunshine from your life; not only were you now doomed to spend eternity in the shadows, but he’d taken Felix from you, and then corrupted the only pieces of him you had left. Your memories.

You fought the desire to scream as you realized you were trapped in the arms of his murderer. Your murderer.

You didn’t have time to panic — you needed to plan. If you were going to run it had to be planned perfectly; Chan wasn’t just your maker, he’d also forced himself into your mind. And you knew how paranoid he could be. You spent the next few weeks carefully guarding your thoughts — making sure you didn’t flinch from his touch or shy from his affection. He had to think you were completely committed to him. And it wasn’t hard to do; when Chan was awake, you could barely remember why you wanted to leave, and your memories of Felix faded into the abyss. But when he fell asleep, Felix haunted you. You couldn’t stop yourself from pouring over every detail of your life with him, over his death, piecing together the fragmented memories. They made you sick to think about.

It was like you were living in two realities. Your nights were rose-tinted and hazy, full of lust and blood slipped between your lips and Chan’s, and your days were gray and harsh, sharp like the knife Chan had slid between your ribs. It was becoming harder to forget. And each day Chan was planning your move together even more. Once he faked your death, something he said was necessary, you knew it’d be harder to leave him.

But every day the thought of leaving him got harder. And it was because of the blood. You were beginning to suspect you were addicted to it – you craved it desperately. There was an ache for it in your veins, in your mind, and in your soul. But even more distressing, his blood was the only thing you could stomach.

The smell of anyone and anything else was revolting. He had brought home a blood bag after an outing one day, saying he just wanted to test a theory, and you couldn’t even stay in the same room with it after he had ripped the top off. And being in public felt like torture. Their scents burned your nose and throat, made your head throb painfully, and churned your stomach violently. You had nearly passed out in the small market due to the overwhelming nature of it.

Chan had successfully made you entirely dependent on him. During the night, the idea of it sat in the back of your mind and sulked, but during the day, the awareness of it felt like a forest fire of rage and grief. You hated that sometimes you wished you could just ignore what he’d done and move on. But every time you tried to let it go, you remembered his eyes; dead and lifeless on the ground. Light snuffed out permanently.

But he still called to you, his blood called to you. You could nearly hear it sing under his perfect, smooth skin. It invaded your senses and made you unable to focus. His blood was the epicenter of your focus, even in the clarity of day.

The days and nights slunk by the same as usual; you woke up to Chan’s face buried in your neck and hands skimming over every inch of your naked body, he would give you his blood and make you cum until you were floating in a sea of blissful nothingness, and then while you swam in your comedown, Chan would disappear into the darkness of night after dropping a kiss to your forehead. After regaining sensation in your toes and full function of your brain, you were left to aimlessly wander around your apartment, waiting for him to return. You carefully avoided thinking of anything that would incriminate you as his time away grew steadily longer and longer until he began returning nearly at sunrise when he’d produce yet another bouquet of roses, a different color each day, and take you back to bed where he’d sink onto his knees between your legs until he passed out on your chest from exhaustion.

Everything seemed normal until it wasn’t.

You smelled it before he had made it to your floor. Blood. So much blood. Not only his, but someone else’s. Foul and sickeningly sweet, coating your senses. It was like a blanket in your mind; you could barely hear yourself think. The effects only got worse the closer it got until you heard your front door open. It was blinding; your vision swam and you fought the urge to gag.

Chan smiled at you as he shut the door behind him, as if he wasn't carrying a body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He explained that today was the day; you’d be leaving tonight. He dropped the body unceremoniously on the floor as you struggled to breathe.

They were obviously dead — you could tell because of the almost stale undertone of their scent; but your brain struggled to understand why they were on your living room floor. And why Chan seemed so nonplussed about it. Then it hit you; he had killed them to fake your death. You wanted to cry — they had a life, someone who loved them, and now they were dead because of Chan, because of you. Just like Felix.

Something in you snapped. You didn’t know where you had gotten the knife from, or what you had planned to do with it, but one minute you were crying over the corpse of a stranger, and the next, Chan was pinned to the floor underneath you with a knife in his chest. He just smiled at you as he struggled. You didn’t stop to think, you just ran, grabbing the backpack Chan had packed with your essentials off the floor as you sprinted out the door into the night.

You could still feel him in your head, but only a whisper. You did your best to block him out, gaining your bearings as you weaved through the empty alleyways toward the train station. He’d planned everything — there was an excess of cash, new passports with new names. With each step, you built a wall in your mind that Chan couldn’t climb, couldn’t crumble, couldn’t force through. You needed to be free of him, if not just for your sake, for the sake of everyone else.

It kept you afloat for months, skipping from city to city. You fed only on blood bags when you could stomach them, which wasn’t often. And everything would be fine until you woke up with his voice whispering in your head — and the smell of his blood floating in the air. You would leave that day, scrubbing every trace of yourself from the city as you left.

It worked well enough for a while, but the time you had in each place seemed to get shorter and shorter, and your bag got lighter and lighter. You had started using your abilities to assist you; you would go to the fanciest bar you could find and try to pick out the ones with money to spare. And then after a bit of flirting, you’d compel them to walk with you to the nearest ATM and hand you a modest amount. You never took more than they’d miss, and that alone made you feel less guilty.

You were nearly to the point of compelling your latest target; one of the youngest you’d met and undoubtedly the richest. But he was also the kindest; he almost made you wish things were different. That you were different. He was giggling at a joke you made when you smelled it. Smelled him.

He grinned at you from across the bar and you felt your world shift — the thick fog of his blood settled on your mind and your vision blurred around the edges. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until that moment. But then his focus shifted to the man next to you. The soft, kind stranger who didn’t deserve whatever Chan had planned for him.

But you knew he was careful; he would never be so rash as to expose himself in such a busy place. And you knew he’d follow you, wherever you went. So you slipped out, lingering long enough to catch his sight as you left. You could smell him trailing you as you slithered down alleyways and through crowds until you were cornered.

You hadn’t meant to get cornered — his blood was so distracting you had forgotten entirely where you were supposed to go. But it was better than letting him get a hold of your date from the bar. His voice was so loud in your head. And the blood; just being near it made your jaw ache and your throat dry.

He had you again; hands on your waist possessively as he pressed you against the wall, your head smacking into the hard cement painfully. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of his fangs tearing into your neck.

The walls in your mind fell around you; he had forced his way back in as your body grew limp. His voice echoed and trembled as he poured his rage and anxiety into your mind, so loud you couldn’t hear yourself at all. He was so upset at you for leaving him, and jealous you’d turned to anyone but him for help, but most of all he was relieved to have you back in his arms.

You almost felt bad, but slipping the needle into his neck was so easy he barely felt it. Not until the effects started to take hold. Pretty soon, he was on the ground, staring up at you with a look of hurt. True, genuine hurt. He hadn’t even looked so upset when you had stabbed him all those months ago.

You told him not to worry; you’d never get rid of him. He merely needed some time to adapt to your new life together.

It’s where you find yourselves now; Chan pleading for you to free him, to let him take care of you how he did before. He hates the red neon lights that illuminate his room after the sun sets, after you leave. It reminds him of your blood. He craves it desperately, and you keep him ever so desperate. He has enough to stay alive, to stay sane. But not enough to fend off the weakness that’s settled into his bones.

You remind him that he has to earn your trust after everything he’s done, but thankfully he has an eternity to prove himself to you. Because as addicted to you he may be, you’re equally dependent on him. His blood still sings to you in a way not even Changbin’s, your new lover, does. And you know you’ll never change him, even though it could be the replacement you desperately crave. Changbin doesn’t deserve the suffering though.

But you and Chan do — so much death, just because of the two of you. It’s why you know you might never release him from the chains. Why he’ll never be truly free again. You won’t be either. He would kill any and everyone if it meant he could keep you to himself. And despite yourself, you still love him, in a way. The thought of being tied to him for all eternity brings you comfort. And you know he knows it. He’s still in your mind, even if it’s just a whisper. And you’re in his.

It’s why you keep him how you do. You can hear the ugly, possessive, murderous thoughts that run through his head when you leave. You hold out hope as you clean his blood off your mouth that he’ll learn some control, in time. And thankfully you have an abundance of it, but you won’t waste any more of it on him tonight. He’ll see you again before sunrise, when you return from your night with Changbin.

At least when you’re away you can pretend to be normal. Pretend your ex-boyfriend slash lover slash maker isn’t locked in a room in your apartment that could withstand a nuclear fallout. Pretend you weren’t a murderer. Pretend you weren’t still maybe in love with a murderer. The one person who’s caused you more than a lifetime of pain.

And Chan will complain about how you reek of him, sex, and alcohol. And you’ll soothe him with your thorn bitten finger tips pressed to his tongue as you sink onto his cock, making sure he drifts into bliss as the first rays of light break across the horizon and you both fall into an easy sleep with the knowledge you both are getting what you really want.

Chan has you. And you have Chan…

Right where you want him.

Taglist: @kiestrokes @eureka-its-zico @j-a-nuary @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @bibbykins

#yandere vampire chan #vampire bang chan #yandere bang chan #bang chan smut #dark bang chan #skz smut #skz yandere #skz vampire #skz bang chan #stray kids smut #stray kids yandere

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

The Winter Sun (21)

21. The dangerous Road

MASTERLIST

Summary: War came at a heavy price

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, death of a character, war and all that comes with it, mentions of pedicide (killing of a baby), threats of non-con, technically adultery, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: Like I said, the pace is picking hehe, and it will get dark for a couple of chapters. SO SORRY FOR THIS LOVES

“I bled once”, you whispered to the maester, “but the symptoms hadn't stopped, I thought to be with child”

“after the birth of a child it could be tricky”, he warned with a warm smile, “forgive me my lady but I must check you out”

It was an uncomfortable afternoon with the maester, but afterwards, you left his tower to search for Sara

The test that he had made you do was going to take time to… “develop”, so you had a couple of days before receiving any news

Sara, and you, had started a quick net of communication throughout the North, you had contact with White Harbor, with the Lady Mara, and the Lady Bolton from the Dreadfort, all the way up to the Bear Island, even down at Widow’s watch, you exchanged ravens regularly, you even created, with Cregan, the “Dragon watchers”, dragons were faster than ravens, but you had placed outposts with huge beacons of fire that were to be lit as soon as they see or hear them, so as soon as it is lit, the next one will light them also, creating a line of fire to be seen miles away in Winterfell

You were nervous, the people were nervous, you had yet to receive news of Cregan, but if you think about it more carefully, it could be dangerous for him to be writing where they are and where theta e going, letters can be easily intercepted, an the last months you realized people who believe a man should have priority to ascend the Iron Throne over a woman is bigger than you expected.

You could have Aegon royalists within Winterfell without even knowing

When you found Sara, you gasped

She was a mess, clutching to her own chest, heaving and crying by the window in her room

“Sara!”. you called for her name, running to her, hugging her, “what happened?”

“I don’t know!”, she managed to whine, “I saw something”

“What did you see? What happened? are you alright?”, you were so confused, she was distraught

She weeped in your arms, and you hugged her to comfort her, you directed her to sit on the bed, and you cuddled her. She eventually calmed, but she still shook with the sobs

“I don’t know what happened”, she whispered, “one minute I was here, and another…I was somewhere else”

“What do you mean?”, you asked her softly

“That somehow, I was somewhere else, I was something else”, you believed in magic, you believed in people who could dream about things that were going to happen, everyone in your family knew the tale of Daenys the dreamer and how her visions saved the Targaryens from The Doom. Once you were hiding from the boys with Helaena, and she couldn’t stop whispering about stars in the middle of the day, you didn’t listen and when the boys found you you ran from them, failing to see the edge of a wooden furniture and banging your head against it, you passed for several minutes in which you could see silvery stars under your eyelids

But this was something else

In the book Cregan had lent you, you had read about wildlings north of the wall that could take the body of animals and use them as their own… but it was only a tale, wasn’t it?

“I was in the skies”, she continued, “I was flying, I was big, I saw Dragonstone”

“Dragonstone?”, you asked

“I think it was, I- I had never seen it”, she explain, still catching her breath, “it was big and dark, seemed like it was built front he rock itself, and… had many dragons sculptures all over”, that was a fair description of the castle of your family

“What else did you see?”, you asked

“I took flight towards the west”, she said shakily, “over the seas until I could see a castle, surrounded by a powerful wall, and a small village, under the protection of another wall”, she said, she was with you, but her eyes were seeing something outside of the room, they were lost in her memories, “the castle was made of gray rock with reddened tiles in their towers”, you paled then, “a banner was hanging from the biggest one, two black wings over a white banner, in front of a checkered black and gray field”

“House Staunton”, you whispered, “a house front he crownlands, loyal to Rhaenyra”

“They were under siege, and I was going to help them, but then…”

“Sara…”, your heart was pounding in your chest

“Two huge beasts, Vhagar, and another golden dragon flew down upon me, jaws open, a breath of fire and I…”, her eyes filled with tears again and she wept in your arms, “I could smell the burnt flesh, and the reek of death!”, she weeped again, and you held her against you

“Shhh, it’s alright”, you whispered, “it is alright”

But it was not

You could feel it

And you were made certain the very next day

“See that he is bathed gently”, you said to the main maid that took care of RIckon, “Even though he likes the heat, just like a little dragon”you giggled, playing with his feet, “I would bathe him myself but I have a meeting with the master at arms”

“Yes My lady”, she said gently, you liked her, she was sweet and cared for RIckon as he was her own, she took him gently and accommodate him in her arms

“Who is this handsome boy that needs a bath?”, she cooed, “let’s take a bath and let mommy focus on her meeting”, she said as she walked away

You smiled as you saw her leave the rooms, but were called by a pup, Rickon’s pup as he barked at you playfully, moving her triangular tail

“Don’t believe you are free of a bath!”, you chided playfully, and he barked again but ran to hide from you with a whimper.

You giggled

They were really clever animals Direwolves

But as you were preparing to leave your rooms to your meeting, there was a knock on the door

“Yes?”, you asked cheerfully, as you were the Lady of Winterfell, and you needed to show yourself strong, but the face the maester had, it immediately told you something was wrong

Very wrong

“I have letter for you, My Lady”, he said, he sounded apologetic

“What is it?”, you whispered

“One if from Dragonstone, but the other… is it from Harrenhal, from Aemond Targaryen”

You palet

you received the two small scrolls, your hand already trembling, you didn’t know which one to open first, you decided, that the one from Dragonstone

It surprised you to see it was from Rhaena, you had never had a personal relationship with her, but still you read the few lines she wrote

And as you did you whimpered, bitter tears falling from your eyes

Rhaenys was dead

Her and Melys had been burnt by Aemond and Aegon in both their dragons

Just like Sara described

Rhaena goes on saying she wanted you to hear it from her, because she knew how dear you were to her grandmother and vice-versa

“No, no, no please”, you cried, clutching your chest, falling to your knees

“My Lady!”, the maester fell to the floor on his knees beside you, clutching you tightly, “Are alright?” he placed his hand on your forehead

“No!”, you whined, you let out a scream of pain as you felt your heart was ripped from your chest. Sara showed up, taking the place of the maester by your side, grabbing you tightly

“I will bring you a special tea, to calm your nerves”, he left the room

“She is gone, Aemond killed her”, you whined, grabbing into Sara, “my aunt is gone”

“I’m so sorry”, she whined, “I should have seen it sooner”

“It’s not your fault”, you whispered, your voice as broken as your spirit. You then looked at the other scroll that had fallen by your skirts, this had to mean something… something else…

You couldn’t resist, you couldn’t

You opened it

What you found there didn’t surprise you, there were threats, a warning, and a demand

You whined at the sight of his poisonous words

But now… you jumped from the grief, straight to the anger

It was him!

The source of all your pains, all your traumas, it was him, for taking your baby nephew, and now your dear aunt

It was him

And you were the only one who could stop him

Sara looked at you, petrified and scared of what she found in your eyes

“No”, she whispered, when you looked straight ahead, tears were no longer falling from your eyes, all it was there was fire, and bloodthirst, “whatever you think you need to do…”

“I have to”, you answered barely, standing from the floor, your hands made fists

“No! you need to stay here!”, she cried, “please!”

“I am the only one who can stop him, stop this”, she took the scroll from your hand and read it, and she whimpered

“Its a trap!”, she said

But you were already on your feet, grabbing your riding gear, the thickest pants you could find and the upper part to go with it

“Please! think of Cregan! of Rickon!”, she insisted

“Is for them I’m doing this”, you said, all emotion in your voice disappeared

“Please! they can fight him”, she insisted

“I can get close to him and kill him, I’m the only one who can”

“But at what price?”, she asked

“the debt is high already”, she whispered, “and it will only take me”

“please!”, you turned to look at Sara

“Tell Cregan I’m sorry”, you whined, tears falling down your cheeks again

“You tell him yourself!”, she insisted

“Take care of my son”, you cried, “please love him as your own”

“You will!”, she said, now desperate, “you will love him, and see him grow!”

“I did the best I could for the North, I’m sorry if it wasn't enough”, you cried

“It was! but is not over!”, she grabbed your arms, “please!”

“I’m the only one that can stop him”, you insisted, “I can kill him”, she knew there was no convincing you, she can see it in your eyes

“Please”

“No one else is going to die for me”, your voice again a flat line, “Cregan will be spared, and the crown will belong to Rhaenyra”

“But please let’s wait until we can reach Cregan”

“You know what his answer is going to be”, you said, but you realized Sara was not going to let you leave, so instead, you agreed to wait

Only to sneak out in the middle of the night, after telling the nannies to take RIckon for the night claiming you needed to be alone, they took him without question.

You couldn’t dare to see Rickon for one last time, if you did, you would second guess your decision and you couldn’t

This was more important than yourself

This was about the future of the seven Kingdoms and the future of your family and everyone you loved

This was bigger

Vhaelar was waiting for you outside the Winterfell gates, she roared into the night air but at this point you didn’t care if everyone listened, you will be in the air by the time they think they can do something to stop you

So you climbed on top of your dragon, Aemond’s words burning inside your brain

“I killed Rhaenys at Rook’s Rest, it wasn’t personal, but I know your husband is marching down with his army, you have three days to come to Harrenhal, if you do not, I will burn them alive, and then I will ride North and take you anyways. Spare the Starks, give yourself to me”

You had to answer his call

It was true, you can come to him willingly, you had a dragon, you could hide a blade in your undergarments, and after, you could slay him in his sleep or something, anything, but when he said it was the end of house Stark, it meant your baby as well, pedicide is not something you would put past Aemond. You knew he was capable and able to do it

For Rickon

For Cregan

And for Sara and the North

Yourself was a small price to pay

The night was long but you didn’t plan to stop as Vhaelar flew decisively under you

You believed you had until morning until Winterfell wakes up and sends a raven to Cregan, if you manage to fly over them it will be too late also

In the air, atop your dragon, nothing could stop you

Unless perhaps, another dragon

All night, all the way south, your mind was blank, there was only grief, pain, and rage.

You did not deemed yourself as vengeful person, and yet, you wanted it, desire it, you felt a fire growing within you, that wanted to burn everything in your path

You felt such heat within you you barely felt the still cold air that hit your face in the heights, and before you even knew it, the sun was shining in the horizon.

You felt no hunger, no tiredness, no nothing

Only the rage

It was Midday when you saw the unmistakable burnt towers of Harrenhal

Your dragon growled, like she was in pain, feeling your anger

You led her to descend upon the castle with a velocity that made your stomach drop, but you didn’t care about that, you cared about vengeance

But you were in a close distance, you felt the fire burning within you, one command and you could burn Harrenhal and the Green forces within them, Aemond probably was there, inside

“Dra-!”

As you were going to give the order, you were interrupted by a low growl. Vhagar appeared from nowhere, pushing your dragon and you in the air

Vhaelar whined as she struggled to keep in the air and you knew then and there, that against the monstrous Vhagar, you could do nothing. Even if your dragons was one of the largest

The Queen of dragons growled in greeting and you could feel Vhaelar’s nervousness as your own.

Or perhaps you were your own

Some people would say that you are more lamb than dragon, because of your mother’s house

But they were wrong

You were a dragon he awakened

You landed heavily by the gates, you could see the restlessness of the soldiers in you and your dragon’s presence. You abandoned the want to burn everything, against Vhagar you couldn’t win. you had to be smart about this, she had the upper hand, the surprise factor was ruined

“WHITE DRAGON!”, they chanted all over the walls, but you didn’t attacked them

Perhaps that is what you should do.

Burn them all

But the retaliation from King’s landing and the Greens could be worse

Aemond appeared by your side, he did not hide his smile, his happiness of seeing you there.

Bold, you assumed, as you were near your dragon, you could burn him, here and now

The temptation was great

“You came”, he greeted, “good girl”

“I came to the call of your insanity”, you growled, he came to you, quick on his feet, you took a step backwards, still he grabbed you by the back of your neck

Vhaelar growled, dangerously, but VHagr was there, right by her side, she grabbed your dragon by the neck, furiously, dangerously

“NO!”, you screamed

Vhaelar whined in agony, and Vhagar released her, it was only a warning, but her black blood flowed profusely from the injury in her neck

“NO!”, you wanted to go to her, but Aemond held on to you tight

“If you don’t want me to finish her off, you will come with me”, he had to drag you towards the castle, as you could hear her whines of agony as her pain as if was your own

He dragged you through the halls, the stench of dead was clinging into you by every forceful step, and you whined under Aemond’s brutal hold

He threw you into a room. It held no windows, no nothing, but it was furnished with the very best he could find in his proximity, you realized. A luxurious big bed, with small tales on each side, many candles all over the room to light it up since it had no windows, and a table with chairs on one corners, tapestries on the floor and hanging from the walls to give it a more comfortable feel to it, but it didn’t hide what it was, it was a prison, only made for you

“A room for a princess”, he said mockingly, closing the door behind him, “you will stay here”

“I did as you asked”, you said, trying to regain control, “I came, I did as you said, promise me you will kill no one else”, you whined, “please”, he only smirked

“I promise I will no seek the death of anyone else”, he pleaded with a hand on his chest and another raised, but all seemed like a mockery, “I only wanted you, it is good that you finally saw this”

“I don’t understand”, you whined, “why me? after everything”

“That is not for you to know, now put on the dress I selected for you”, he said, taking your shoulders and directing you to look upon the bed, where a very revealing dark green dress was waiting for you. “You are to please me, since you are married, since you didn’t want to marry me, you will be nothing else, but my whore”

A single tear fell down your cheek as you contemplated what you willingly let your life turn into.

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart @weaselyssss @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality

#misguidedwinter #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan #cregan x you #cregan smut #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon #house stark #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

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blazewrites-smut · 7 months

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Transformers Kinktober 2023

I was inspired by @uselessmicrowave current kinktober and decided I could use the challenge while I work on requests. If you'd like to see a certain bot or con, please don't hesitate to send a suggestion through ask or comment on this post.

Below, I have listed all the days of October and what will be written for that day and the Transformer/Universe for that day. These were all picked out by me. When the day is crossed out, that means it's been written already.

Day 1: Orgasam Denial (TFA Sentinel)

Day 2: Gags (TFA Ratchet)

Day 3: Lingerie (IDW Swerve)

Day 4: Public Sex/Under the Table (IDW Rodimus)

Day 5: Breeding (TFA Optimus Prime)

Day 6: Overstimulation (TFA Blurr)

Day 8: Office Sex (IDW Magnus or TFP Magnus)

Day 7: Virginity (G1/IDW Kup)

Day 9: Collaring/Pet Play (TFP Ratchet)

Day 10: Biting/Marking (ES Starscream)

Day 11: Gang Bang

Day 12: Mirror Sex

Day 13: Pegging

Day 14: Sex Machine

Day 15: Somnophilia

Day 16: Thigh-riding (IDW Fort Max)

Day 17: Possessive Sex (IDW Tarn)

Day 18: Body Worship

Day 19: Tit job

Day 20: Predator/Prey (G1 Vortex)

Day 21: Medical Play (IDW Pharma)

Day 22: Cockwarming (IDW Soundwave)

Day 23: Bondage

Day 24: Shower Sex

Day 25: Chasity (TFP Ultra Magnus)

Day 26: Mutual Masturbation (ROTB Mirage and Noah)

Day 27: Creampie

Day 28: Sleepy/Morning Sex (IDW Skywarp)

Day 29: Pegging

Day 30: Exhibition/Voyeurism

Day 31: Sex Toys

#transformers #valveplug #transformers x reader #transformers earthspark #maccadam #transformers rotb #transformers prime #transformers animated #idw transformers #transformers mtmte #blazewrites smut kinktober #kinktober 2023 #transformers kinktober #transformers kinktober 2023

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nwinwisworld · 7 months

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welcome ♡︎

admin: nwi, she/her, 21

oc: nat, 20, she/her.

mostly engages in double rps!! usually works with kpop male idols but willing to expand. usually does skz, enha, ateez and bts.

activation: dm me saying you’re interested or reply to this post!

rules: i ONLY rp on discord, tumblr is too glitchy for me to work with. no hate speech, if the other rper is going to be busy that has to be communicated to the admin. the replies should be consistent and plot dedicated. communication!!! please be respectful and kind to everyone!! communicate your likes, dislikes and boundaries freely, don’t be embarrassed or ashamed at all!! im here to make your delulu dreams come true fictionally in a healthy and safe environment🩷

NO MINORS ALLOWED.

DOUBLE RP OC INFO

—-

SOLO IDOL CHATBOTS

here are all the chatbots you can activate as a solo player (as in you play yourself or y/n, and i play the idol for you)

applications: open!!

1. lee minho from stray kids as your yandere professor

- dom, yandere, toxically obsessed, emotionally manipulative, sadistic, heavy nsfw. dub con or cnc themes

2. bang chan from stray kids as your best friend who loves you

- dom, sweet, loving caring, emotionally manipulative, super whipped for you, clingy and adorable. slight nsfw

3. jeon jungkook from bts as your toxic ceo

- dom, hard dom. toxic, really dark, twisted and cruel. heavy nsfw, dub con, non con and cnc. yandere

4. han jisung as your classmate who secretly loves you

- switch, heavy kkudere, nsfw, cute fluffy and sweet as well as dark at the same time

5. make your own!!!

more to come

(none of the idols named are portrayed realistically and this page/ tumblr has no connection or relation with their real life, personality whatsoever. this is pure fiction).

—

dm to +\- : @skzchatbot @theinvitation-bot @livealittleoc-cb @domxbot @monsterhigh-cb @sickloverz @yourdaddychan @chatbots-for-straykids @yandere-hanjisung @etherealinowrites @matryosika @linos-kitten @seospicybin

#chatbot #skz chatbot #bts chatbot #bts roleplay #kpop roleplay #skz roleplay #kpop chatbot #bts smut #skz smut #skz x reader #kpop smut

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jmdbjk · 3 months

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Episode 4: Disconnected

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

Namjoon gives a brief recap of their rise from debut, through the struggles of the next few releases and then they take off with Wings, Fire, Blood Sweat & Tears, Fake Love, and Idol and all their accolades and awards.

They open this episode with behind scenes from filming the ON MV at Los Angeles' Sepulveda Dam. It was hot that day.

[did you say something Jimin? ahem... anyway]

Regarding the previous years to this point in time, Namjoon says he may not have made the best choices all the time but he believes he made the best choices he could at the time. Yoongi says they compacted 20 years into 7 years at the expense of their physical well-being.

Namjoon says he tried to prove himself to the world but now sees that what he's left with are the choices he wanted to make at the time with all his effort and he learned a lot from them.

Jungkook says he lived a life fit for himself, that if he had forced himself to do something that didn't suit him, it would not have been good. He did what he wanted to do and experienced a lot. All decisions he made for himself and which helped him grow.

In other words, they chose to work hard and run full speed ahead and we know that led to an almost burnout situation.

Namjoon states the lyrics of the song ON are what they mean: they've been through it and are on the other side, they made it to the other side together. Bring the pain, bring it on, it will only make us stronger.

It is heartbreaking to hear them talk about how much work they put into the MOTS tour, how involved they were with equipment and production decisions. Yoongi said it had been a while since they'd been this excited about preparing for concerts.

Things were planned that we never knew about. A large-scale gala for TV promotions?

And then the news early 2020. Jimin was asking if there was any chance the concert would ever go ahead as planned...

During the two years or so of the pandemic, each member dealt with the social distancing, self-quarantining, loneliness and lack of live performances in their own ways. They did a lot of nothing during this time. The footage shown here was not of them during the first months of the pandemic. There were no cameras set up during that time. They used footage from times when they COULD film safely to help represent how they were during isolation. Looks like Hobi and Jungkook in the hotel suite after the Grammy Awards and footage of Jimin in his apartment in late 2021, etc.

There were long periods of time when everyone, including you and me were asked or required to abstain from going outside, to isolate away from others, to not socialize with more than 5 or 10 people at a time, even with our families.

Bang PD reflects that BTS were at the peak of their careers, they lived to perform, and had to overcome the feelings of helplessness and that's how he believes they've grown as humans.

So they innovated...they produced the first online ticketed concert: Bang Bang Con. Over 750,000 viewers watched.

It was reported on the news that BTS was once again changing the industry.

And then on August 21, 2020, they released a song to enjoy with the fans:

If The Most Beautiful Moment in Life was the turning point, Dynamite was literally the explosion that shot them into the stratosphere.

Dynamite broke records of every kind: on Youtube the MV set a new record of over 3 million peak viewers during its premiere, almost doubling the previous record, and set a new all-time record for the biggest music video premiere on the platform and the most viewed YouTube video in the first 24 hours, earning 101.1 million views and setting three new Guinness World Records.

In the U.S., Dynamite debuted a #1 on the BBHot100, and is BTS' first #1 single in the US. The song became both the longest-running number one on the Digital Songs chart by a Korean artist and the longest-charting song by a Korean artist on the Hot 100, when it spent its 18th non-consecutive week at #1 the Digital Song sales chart and 32 weeks on the Hot 100, three of those weeks at #1.

Hobi said it was overwhelming that their sincerity had reached all parts of the world. Jin said it was a song to simply enjoy with fans.

Bang PD said he knew what this would mean for their future and what a positive impact it was.

Yoongi said they did the song in the hopes of giving everyone strength during the trying times of the pandemic. Namjoon says because of the situation (the pandemic) they lost so much (cancellation of the MOTS tour) so during that time, the strength of music and performances were their way to give comfort and support to the fans.

With the ongoing pandemic, they had to adapt. In October 2020, they produced Map of the Soul ON:E ... two online concerts that had a record-breaking 993,000 paid viewers from a total of 191 regions across the globe. It was performed at the Olympics Gymnastics Arena. It was elaborately produced. It was expensive. Lots of man-hours went into it.

They said they enjoyed doing it, they worked hard but it was a challenge because the missing element was a live audience... Army was missing. It would never replace a live concert's energy but they were still thankful they could even do it to begin with. It would be another year before BTS was in front of a live audience again.

Overnight on Nov. 24, 2020 they gathered in front of the television in their dorm to watch the 63rd Grammy Awards nomination announcements. Only four of them were there: Jimin, Namjoon, Jungkook and Tae. I had heard the others had schedules the next day and needed to sleep.

They had never known how the Grammy nominations were announced, this was their first experience and when BTS was announced you could feel their astonishment through the screen. The first Korean artist to ever be nominated.

During the Grammy Award broadcast (done remotely), they also performed their own song, Dynamite.

Alas, they did not win but they'd made so much history and broke so many records in 2020, the year of deep lows and the highest highs.

They felt motivated, knowing they still had room for success and had something to strive for.

They were proud to show the world that there are singers like them from Korea and that Army and BTS exist.

#bts beyond the star #jimin #jungkook #hobi #yoongi #namjoon #jin #taehyung

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yttd-silliness-showdown · 2 months

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Round 1, Bracket 21:

Strawberry Cake Lady propaganda:

Pros: she’s brand new!!! The embodiment of hype! Her slitted cat eyes imply that her pupils get really big under low light. Wears Flandre scarlet’s bonnet like the touhou girl she is. Fucked up bangs indicate she might be a version of Sara or Teki/Memory Dance Girl. Here’s hoping. Maybe they’re all part of one larger, fucked-up-bangs-family, like the eeveelutions. Plus, all those ruffles! An undeniably silly outfit.

Cons: I’ll be a little bit sad in the probable event that she isn’t related to either. We also only have one line for her rn.

Momdori propaganda:

Pros: Was probably a win for the bisexual midori simps when she dropped. Her bigger rattail implies that she is superior to her son in the hierarchy. We know more abt her, and she definitely passed some silly traits down to midori.

Cons: We haven’t got it 100% confirmed that they’re related. We know not her true name. We know not her true face. Creepy religious obsessions. Sei would still be alive if she didn’t decide to read the Hunger Games and get silly with it.

#your turn to die #yttd silliness showdown #strawberry cake lady yttd #momdori

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shdo-xplosion · 1 year

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

♡°◌̊ all characters are over the age of 21

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ = explicit; (*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ = dark content

✧ ONE SHOTS ✧

R. SHIDOU

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ spaghetti straps

✧ HEADCANONS ✧

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ how they eat you out • ft. isagi, rin, nagi, reo, & shidou

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

✧ DRABBLES ✧

sleepover - s. nagi

after game blowjob - r. shidou

COMING SOON

(◕︵◕)

✧ MULTI-PART FICS ✧

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ dark matter - k. bakugou (wip)

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ kingdom come - bakusquad (wip)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

✧ ONE SHOTS ✧

K. BAKUGOU

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ the rescue plan

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ thicker than water

E. TODOROKI

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ heat

S. AIZAWA

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ aloe

MULTIPLE

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ bedroom add-ons - d. kaminari, h. shinsou, k. bakugou (foursome)

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ flash bang - e. todoroki, s. todoroki (threesome)

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

✧ DRABBLES ✧

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ alien fucking - s. aizawa

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ non-con voyeurism - k. bakugou & h. shinsou

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ quid pro quo - k. bakugou

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ new toy - k. bakugou

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ public sex - k. bakugou

(*ﾉωﾉ)ᵉᵉᵏ somnophilia - (yandere!) e. kirishima

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ best friend’s lil sister - s. todoroki

COMING SOON

(⌯˃̶᷄ ﹏ ˂̶᷄⌯)ﾟ

2023©️ shdo-xplosion. please don’t plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

#masterlist #fandom masterlist

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f1xmeinfortyfive · 10 months

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𝚂𝚘 𝙼𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙵𝚘𝚛 (𝚃𝚘𝚞𝚛)𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜

As the tour has turned out to be a rollercoaster of emotions and nostalgia, I decided to concentrate in a small masterpost each of the surprise songs played by the guys throughout the whole tour. It will be constantly updated and is not free of errors, if you notice any mistake in the dates or the position of the songs, feel free to comment and I will fix it. By now the source is the people who had contributed to the setlist.fm website, so I will try to look for more reliable sources with links to their respective creators (and also videos if it's possible) Thanks for reading, and happy tourdust to all. 🖤✨

GUIDE OF FORMATS:

SONGS PART OF THE PERMANENT SETLIST

SONGS (NOT PART OF MAGIC 8 BALL DYNAMIC OR THE PERMANENT SETLIST) PLAYED

MAGIC 8 BALL SONGS

SONGS PLAYED BY PATRICK ON PIANO

LAST UPDATED: Jul/3

ALBUMS

Take This To Your Grave (2003)

Tell That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today • Dead On Arrival • GRAND THEFT AUTUMN / WHERE IS YOUR BOY • SATURDAY • HOMESICK AT SPACE CAMP (Jun/30) • Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here) • CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO • The Pros And Cons Of Breathing • Grenade Jumper • CALM BEFORE THE STORM • Reinventing The Wheel To Run Myself Over • The Patron Saint Of Liars And Fakes • Roxanne

From Under The Cork Tree (2005)

Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued (Jun/27) ● OF ALL THE GIN JOINTS IN ALL THE WORLD (Jun/23) ● DANCE, DANCE ● SUGAR WE'RE GOING DOWN ● Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner ● I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) ● 7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen) ● SOPHOMORE SLUMP OR COMEBACK OF THE YEAR (Jun/24) ● Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends ● I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me ● A LITTLE LESS SIXTEEN CANDLES, A LITTLE MORE "TOUCH ME" ● Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) ● XO ● Snitches And Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers • The Music Or The Misery

Infinity On High (2007)

Thriller ● "THE TAKE OVER, THE BREAKS OVER" (Jun/23) ● THIS AIN'T A SCENE, IT'S AN ARMS RACE ● I'M LIKE A LAWYER WITH THE WAY I'M ALWAYS TRYING TO GET YOU OFF (ME & YOU) (Jun/24) ● HUM HALLELUJAH (Jun/24) ● GOLDEN (JUL/2) ● THNKS FR TH MMRS ● Don't You Know Who I Think I Am? ● THE (AFTER) LIFE OF THE PARTY (Jun/28)● The Carpal Tunnel Of Love ● BANG THE DOLDRUMS (JUL/3) ● Fame < Infamy ● You're Crashing, But You're No Wave ● I'VE GOT ALL THIS RINGING IN MY EARS AND NONE ON MY FINGERS (JUL/3) ● G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (Jun/21) ● It's Hard To Say "I Do", When I Don't

Folie à Deux (2008)

DISLOYAL ORDER OF WATER BUFFALOES ● I Don't Care ● She's My Winona ● AMERICA'S SUITEHEARTS (JUL/2) ● HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET ● The (Shipped) Gold Standard ● (COFFEE'S FOR CLOSERS) (JUL/1) ● WHAT A CATCH, DONNIE (Jun/28) ● 27 ● Tiffany Blews ● w.a.m.s. ● 20 Dollar Nose Bleed ● West Coast Smoker ● Pavlove ● Beat It ● Lullabye

Save Rock And Roll (2013)

The Phoenix ● MY SONGS KNOW WHAT YOU DID IN THE DARK ● Alone Together ● Where Did The Party Go ● Just One Yesterday ● The Mighty Fall ● Miss Missing You ● Death Valley ● Young Volcanoes ● Rat A Tat ● SAVE ROCK AND ROLL

American Beauty / American Psycho (2015)

Irresistible ● American Beauty / American Psycho ● CENTURIES ● The Kids Aren't Alright ● UMA THURMAN ● Jet Pack Blues ● Novocaine ● Fourth Of July ● Favorite Record ● Immortals ● Twin Skeletons (Hotel In NYC)

M A N I A (2018)

Young And Menace ● Champion ● Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea ● HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T ● THE LAST OF THE REAL ONES ● Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) ● Church ● Heaven's Gate ● Sunshine Riptide ● Bishops Knife Trick

So Much (For) Stardust (2023)

LOVE FROM THE OTHER SIDE ● Heartbreak Feels So Good ● HOLD ME LIKE A GRUDGE ● FAKE OUT ● HEAVEN, IOWA ● So Good Right Now ● THE PINK SEASHELL ● I Am My Own Muse ● Flu Game ● BABY ANNIHILATION ● THE KINTSUGI KID (TEN YEARS)(JUN/27)● WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE (Jun/23) ● So Much (For) Stardust

EPs

Evening Out With Your Girlfriend (2003)

Honorable Mention ● CALM BEFORE THE STORM ● Switchblades And Infidelity ● Pretty In Punk ● Growing Up ● The World's Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys In A Broken Down Van) ● Short, Fast And Loud ● Moving Pictures ● Parker Lewis Can't Lose (But I'm Gonna Give It My Best Shot)

My Heart Will Always Be The B-Side To My Tongue (2004)

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon ● "It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love" ● Love Will Tear Us Apart

PAX AM Days (2013)

We Were Doomed From The Start (The King Is Dead) ● Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances ● Hot To The Touch, Cold On The Inside ● Love, Sex, Death ● Eternal Summer ● Demigods ● American Made ● Caffeine Cold ● New Dreams

Llamania (2018)

Past Life ● Footprints In The Snow ● Wrong Side Of Paradise

Lake Effect Kid (2018)

Lake Effect Kid ● City In A Garden ● Super Fade

OTHERS

LAKE SHORE DRIVE (ALIOTTA HAYNES JEREMIAH COVER) (Jun/21)

SOMEBODY TO LOVE (QUEEN COVER) (Jun/27)

TAKE ON ME (A-HA COVER)(Jun/27)

SPOTLIGHT (PATRICK STUMP SONG) (JUN/30)🧡

NOTHING COMPARES 2 YOU (SINÉAD O'CONNOR COVER) (JUL/1)

MR. BLUE SKY (ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA COVER) (JUL/2)

EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (THE POLICE COVER) (JUL/3)

DON'T STOP BELIEVING (JOURNEY COVER)

CRAZY TRAIN (OZZY OSBOURNE COVER)

[NEXT WILL BE ADDED AS SOON AS THEY'RE PLAYED]

#during the week i'll be adding links to the videos of each of them dw #fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #so much (for) stardust #so much for stardust #so much for tour dust #so much for (tour) dust #tourdust era #tourdust #fob #fob8 #smfs #tour songlist #toudust spoilers

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whentommymetalfie · 7 months

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Home to you -chapter 41

-Hitting the ground-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Alfie is increasingly fed up with the Shelby family. The night brings more than Tommy's usual nightmares.

Warnings: disordered eating, suicidal ideation, mental instability, hallucinations, victim blaming, harmful attitudes towards mental illness and suicide, violence, brief discussions of rape/non-con

Content note: sexual content

Wordcount: 6,7 K

There isn’t a spot on Tommy’s body that Alfie doesn’t love to put his mouth on. And not just the obvious bits, right, that’s a given, no, Alfie fancies himself a man who can see beyond that, to the inside of his knee, right below his thigh where there’s a white, razor thin scar, to the sharp dip of his hipbones that bruise so easily, to his wrist, right where the pulse taps away and the veins lie so close to the skin… There isn’t a pale stretch of skin or freckle or scar that Alfie doesn’t shower with attention. But the one where the valley above his collarbone meets his neck is one of his favorites because not only is the skin soft and freckled and beautifully paper thin, Tommy always squirms delightfully when he kisses him there. Does now too, squirms and arches his neck so that morning sun catches in the dark strands of his hair.

“You a bit ticklish there, eh, treacle?” Alfie chuckles and trails kisses up his neck, savouring the little gasps he lets out. Tommy grasps at the pillow underneath his head, wraps his legs tighter around his waist, digging his heels into the backs of his thighs. Alfie understands what he wants, doesn’t he? And fuck if he doesn’t want it too, but it still feels like things might be moving too quickly. Tommy might think he’s ready, but Alfie doesn’t think he realises just how big this step would actually be, and might be unprepared for the raw vulnerability of it all. Even if part of him scoffs at the objection: he’ll be fucking careful, he’ll be so gentle and considerate and attentive that Tommy will melt underneath his hands and open beautifully until he’s fully ready to let Alfie take him. But the thing is, he very much suspects that part is influenced by another, one which feels that if he doesn’t get to fuck Tommy soon, he’s going to fully lose it.

Tommy squirms underneath him, drawing a moan from him as Alfie’s cock rubs against his hip, his own erection weeping where it’s trapped between their bodies. Alfie kisses him, rocks his hips and grabs onto Tommy’s backside to get some leverage. Tommy moves with him, his breathing growing deeper, and Alfie is very close to listening to the less rational part of his brain when the doorhandle twists. Thank fuck, the door is locked, but the twisting is followed by a hard knock.

“Oi, Solomons!”

Alfie rolls his eyes and is entirely set on ignoring this interruption, but Tommy has frozen up under him and is staring wide eyed at the door, pale beneath the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, love, door’s locked,” Alfie mutters and kisses him again, in hopes of making him forget all about his older brother now trying to break down the door. Tommy’s legs have fallen down from around his waist and he hikes them up again.

“Hello?” Arthur calls and knocks again. “Solomons?”

Tommy pulls out of the kiss, puts his hands on Alfie’s chest and tries to push him away without much success. But Alfie has to give up, doesn’t he?

“A bit busy here, Arthur!” he calls back. “Come back in half an hour or so.”

“What is going on in there? Why’s the door fucking locked?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” Alfie barks, and immediately regrets it because Tommy lets out a panicked whine and stares at him with impossibly wide eyes. He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

There’s a brief pause, and Alfie, foolishly, thinks Arthur’s regained his senses and fucking left, but then the banging is back with a vengeance.

“Solomons, if you don’t open up right now I swear I’ll break it!” Arthur roars. “And then I’m cutting off what’s left of your cock. You hear me?”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down, I’m on my way,” Alfie says and rolls off Tommy who immediately pulls the blankets up to cover himself. Shaking his right leg to get it to cooperate, he snags his trousers from the floor and pulls them on as he limps towards the door, struggling a bit to fold his quite stubborn erection against his leg. Fucking hell what a way to start the day. When he opens the door, he’s just doing up the last button necessary to keep the trousers up, leaving the top one undone.

Arthur’s face is an impressive shade of red. Almost resembles a beetroot. Though accompanied by the moustache, Alfie finds himself thinking of an angry walrus. An angry walrus who is currently staring at him with murderous intent.

“Good morning, Arthur,” he says amicably. “And what might you want on such a beautiful day, eh?”

Arthur lets out a huffing breath and looks from him, over his shoulder at Tommy, who is now sat on the bed, blanket clutched to his chest. And of course it’s fairly obvious even to someone as thick as Arthur what’s been happening, because Tommy looks positively debauched, hair mussed, lips swollen and with an impressive collection of marks around his neck and collarbones. Arthur’s eyes might fall out of his skull at any moment and his breathing grows sharp and rapid as they turn to Alfie again. If Tommy didn’t look so mortified, the poor delicate little flower, Alfie would’ve found it comical. Tommy pulls the blankets up even further and draws his knees to his chest to shield himself. Alfie crosses his arms over his chest and moves to fully block Arthur’s view.

“Can I have… a word… with you,” Arthur asks him through gritted teeth, nostrils flaring. Alfie turns to Tommy.

“Tommy, petal, I’m just going to talk with big brother here for a moment. No need to worry, alright? I’ll be perfectly nice. You just stay right there.”

Tommy nods, and though he looks in no way convinced, he makes no move to get out of bed and follow, frozen like a deer in headlights he is. Alfie closes the door behind him and sighs as Arthur drags him further down the hallway. Thankfully he catches a glimpse of Esther at the foot of the stairs.

“Esther, dear, keep an eye on Tommy, will you?” he calls as they pass and gets a briefly quizzical look, but hears steps coming up the stairs as Arthur shoves him into the study.

At least this has resolved the compromising situation in his trousers. Difficult to keep a hard-on when there’s an angry walrus staring at you.

“That better not have been what I fucking think it was,” Arthur hisses and slams the door shut behind them.

“Well, that depends, doesn’t it? What exactly did you think it was? Because if, for example, you thought we were reupholstering a chair or something, then no, that’s not what was happening.”

A vein has begun throbbing in Arthur’s temple.

“You’re not fucking him, are you?”

“If it’s taken you this long to figure it out, I’m sort of concerned for the state of your head, mate, because I’ve made no attempts to hide that from you.”

“I know that you- you clearly had that kind of… relationship, before. I fucking knew that.” Arthur says. “And no, of course I didn’t approve, but at least, well, he was doing better, you said. And I could I see that you- that you care for him, right. Took some time, but I figured as much.” His voice has grown softer for a short moment, but then it’s as if he remembers himself and raises it again. “But how can you do something like that to him, now? Fuck, he’s- he doesn’t even talk. Seems to not even be here, half the time.”

“There are ways to show that you want, or don’t want something, other than speaking,” Alfie says, patience already running thin. “And if you don’t realise that, then I feel bad for every woman who’s had to spend even a fucking second with you in bed.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” Arthur says. “That’s the issue. And, on top of that, how can you- here? Fuck, anyone could’ve walked in! Lizzie may have given you her blessing but she shouldn’t have to see you fucking her husband. Ishouldn’t have to see it!”

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to see it, and no one would’ve walked in, because the door was fucking locked! Which you would know, since you tried to break it down not a minute ago.”

“I don’t have to see it to- to fucking picture it! I’ll have to live with you doing unspeakable things to my brother, fine, but not when I’m under the same roof. And not-“ Arthur digs a finger into Alfie’s chest. “Not when he’s so fucking gone in the head that he’s unable to even properly want it. It’s wrong, is what it is. Fuck’s sake it’s practically-“

Arthur snaps his mouth shut around the last word, but it’s too late. The room fills with a silence so cold it makes ice creep across the windowpanes bathed in morning sun.

“Practically what, Arthur?” Alfie says, voice low as he takes a step closer to him. “What, exactly, are you accusing me of?”

Arthur’s jaw is clenched shut, and they’re stood so close that Alfie can see the exact patterns of red in his bloodshot eyes.

“No, go ahead and say it, practically fucking what? Rape, is that it?” he spits and Arthur flinches. “You’re accusing me of raping your little brother? And if you fucking are, then how come you haven’t blown my fucking head to bits yet? How can you stand there, eh, saying that as long as it doesn’t happen when you’re under the same roof, it’s fucking fine? If you thought, for even a fucking second, that I was hurting Tommy, and haven’t done shit about it other than glare and huff, then you’re a worse fucking brother than I could’ve ever imagined.”

Arthur finally lowers his gaze, his gangly frame seeming to shrink by an inch or so, but Alfie has zero fucking sympathy for his self-pity right now.

“And you listen to me now, Arthur Shelby,” he says. “I don’t owe you shit, but I’ll say this for Tommy’s sake and his sake only: I know more about what he wants and needs than you could ever dream of. And when the fuck would you deem him sound enough to want things, eh? What if he never recovers enough to talk, enough to function to what you deem an acceptable level? He’s still a man of flesh and blood. Needs to be shown that, that he’s still a whole fucking person. That he’s not so broken that no one can touch him without cutting their fingers on the pieces. Otherwise, what the hell did he fight so hard for? He’s so bloody scared, all the time, he’s scared, and hurt and doesn’t… understand the world around him, and you’re not fucking allowed to trample all over the few little good things I can give him!”

Alfie stops and catches his breath, Arthur glares, jaw set tightly, and after a moment where they stare each other down, Arthur visibly deflates. His shoulders sag and his long limbs fold into the closest chair. Alfie leans against a desk, trying to regain his composure and the air lacking from his lungs.

They’re silent for a long moment, until Arthur finally rubs the back of his neck.

“I suppose I- I know that he feels safe with you,” he begins. “That he wants to be with you. On some level, I get that. And that’s what keeps me from listening to this whole other part of me, which, yeah, wants to rip your fucking balls off for sleeping with my little brother. Sort of took over, right, when I saw him like that. Suppose it wouldn’t matter, really, the circumstances, because I don’t think I could’ve accepted it before all of this, either.”

“How very reassuring,” Alfie snorts but reluctantly swallows his objections when Arthur holds up a hand.

“But I want him to be happy. He deserves to be happy.”

“And…”

“And if you can make him happy, or… content. Less scared and fucking sad. Whatever. Then… fine.”

That’s the closest they’re going to get to approval, isn’t it? Alfie is frankly too exhausted to be fighting with Tommy’s siblings. Got enough on his plate to deal with. So he decides to be gracious and let this go. Or at the very least not punch Arthur in the face. And it’s true, what he told him. From a certain perspective he might even see where he’s coming from, right -and since when is he that fucking gracious? This ordeal has done a number on him. Point is, he knows a thing or two about being what some might deem “overly” and “obsessively” protective. Especially where certain blue eyed little someone is concerned.

“Well, Arthur, there was a day when I’d have to put a fucking bullet right between your eyes for behaviour like this,” he says. “But, since you didn’t hesitate to shoot your cousin, yeah, for what he’d done to Tommy, and consequently also kept me from possibly entering an early grave, well, that shows me there’s at least something in there worth preserving.”

He taps his index finger on the spot between Arthur’s eyes. Arthur grunts and bats it away.

“And if I hadn’t seen you throw yourself between Tommy and that fucking knife I might not be so trusting of your seemingly… mostly honourable intentions with my brother.”

“So, the next time you find a locked bedroom door, you’ll leave it alone?”

Arthur’s jaws are working and he’s glaring at Alfie. “I suppose.” He gets out of his chair, suddenly, jutting a finger out at Alfie. “But if I find out, if there’s even an inclination to show, the slightest hint, that you’re hurting him… If I see a bruise, or find him fucking limping, then I’m taking out your good eye. To start with.”

Alfie refrains from explaining to Arthur that a bit of limping, right, that’s something to be expected no matter how careful you are. Especially the first time, Tommy’s going to feel it the next day. But again, he doesn’t say that, because those details may put Arthur into an early grave. He also doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind: that Arthur won’t have to worry about seeing any of that, because now when everything’s resolved in Birmingham, they’ll be going home to Margate where there are no big brothers who can walk in on them. The mere thought of that puts him in a better mood.

He pats Arthur’s shoulder.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he says. “Now, did you actually want something when you came barging in, or do you just have some special big brother sense that goes off when your baby brother’s about to be defiled by another man?”

He grins and Arthur scowls and things are just as they should be.

“Just wanted to see if you were coming down for breakfast,” he mutters, and Alfie can’t keep himself from barking out a laugh as the oldest Shelby sibling stalks off, muttering obscenities under his breath.

When he returns to their bedroom, Tommy is not there, and Alfie has to accept the fact that any possibility at resuming the amorous activities is gone, so he gets dressed and goes downstairs instead. He finds Tommy in the kitchen, seated opposite Esther at the table, meticulously peeling an apple. It’s a slow process, but one that seems to keep him adequately distracted. Alfie bends down to kiss the top of his head and Tommy lights up, tilting his head so that Alfie can plant another kiss on his forehead, and then one on his nose, making him let out a content little sound. Compared to that, what’s some interrupted sex?

“Got everything straightened out, Sir?” Esther asks, glancing up from the cutting board where she’s got an impressive pile of chopped apple.

“Sure, sure,” Alfie says. Stands behind Tommy and pets his hair absentmindedly as he watches him peel a second apple, after putting the first one onto Esther’s cutting board

“Mister Shelby walked by in sort of a huff. But I do think he muttered some kind of apology.”

“Well, he’s learning, isn’t he?

Tommy looks up at him. Blinks in the sunlight. Alfie runs a thumb over his cheekbone.

“It’s all fine, sweetheart. Me and your brother are great friends, aren’t we? Nothing to worry about.”

“I should hope so. We don’t want any petty bickering,” Esther says with one of her best admonishing looks. She gets up and puts the knife down, carefully pushing the cutting board across the table. “Me and Tommy are making pie. Why don’t you make yourself useful and do some chopping, and I can make the dough?”

“God forbid I just stand here for a moment enjoying the view,” Alfie mutters and tugs lightly at Tommy’s hair, tilting his head to get a better look at said view. “No, of course I have to be immediately put to work.”

Esther shuffles around the contents in the cabinets to grab a jar. “You know what they say about idle hands, Sir.”

And of course Alfie has already sat down, because he’s long ago learned the futility of arguing with his housekeeper.

They sit in silence for a bit. Tommy is fully focused on his task but still flinches whenever there’s an unexpected sound: a door slamming somewhere, Lizzie or Ada calling something from another room, one of the kids running down the stairs or Cyril barking. And whenever anyone passes by the kitchen, he visibly shrinks into himself, as if he could make himself disappear.

Alfie needs to take him home. Really, in hindsight, they should’ve left the second Tommy came out of that near catatonic state after the fire. But time has passed quickly, and he’s been fighting so hard to keep Tommy afloat, taking things hour by hour and sometimes minute by minute, and it’s only now he can momentarily stop and see that there’s nothing keeping them here. His men have successfully tracked down every loyal man Michael Shelby still had by his side and eliminated that threat. And while Tommy’s family do care, bless them, they’re not much help, are they? Because they can’t be trusted to look after him and Tommy still only clings to Alfie (a fact that darker part of his mind is quite pleased with).

The thing is, Alfie is terrified that a change will somehow hurt him. They’re walking a tightrope, right, and a single tiny step in the wrong direction might sent them hurtling into the ravine again. And it’s easier to deal with a known, if at times, less than ideal situation, than something uncertain.

Then again, how long are they supposed to wait?

Perhaps he should call doctor Adelman?

Alfie mulls it over that whole day, and come evening, he still hasn’t brought it up, but decided that yeah, he’ll call and talk it over with the good doctor first thing in the morning. Mostly to get his own hope confirmed: a change in itself might be difficult for Tommy, but it’ll get easier the second they’re alone in the safe haven Margate seems like compared to this, surrounded by family members who certainly know how to create a less than ideal environment for recovery, some more than others.

But as of right now, they’re still there, still surrounded by the Shelby clan, in Ada’s living room. He can always tell that Tommy can’t quite keep up with the conversations around him, when he’s surrounded by so many people, but if he wants to be here, then that’s fine. It can hardly do him any harm. And right now, things are unusually calm. Ada is sat in her armchair with a book in one hand and a drink in the other, Lizzie is opposite her with today’s paper, and Arthur’s once again trying his hand at a crossword, but has abandoned it for now to pick out a new bottle of whiskey from Ada’s liquor cabinet to refill his glass.

Tommy meanwhile is leaning against Alfie’s side, tucked under his arm, lashes fluttering as he fights to stay awake. Adelman says it’s fine, that it’s natural he needs so much rest, but it still worries Alfie. Then again, most things do where Tommy is concerned.

“You looking at listings?” Arthur asks and glances over Lizzie’s shoulder as he passes with the bottle. “Thought you were going to rebuild?”

“I don’t know,” Lizzie answers quickly and glances up from the paper. “Don’t know if it’s worth the hassle.”

“You’ll never find something’s big as Arrow House around these parts,” Arthur says and sits down on the sofa, pours himself a drink and picks up the crossword again. Tommy pushes himself even closer to Alfie, turning himself into a tiny ball of limbs and blankets as if he’s trying to burrow into his body.

“We don’t need something that big,” Lizzie says.

“Suppose not. Just you and the kids, now. Though it’s not like Tommy took up all of the other rooms. Could fit him in a drawer.” Arthur chuckles to himself and doesn’t notice that Alfie is trying to glare a hole through his head. “Especially now. But I think-“

“It’s nice having you and the kids here, Lizzie,” Ada says very loudly to cut her brother off. “You don’t have to stress about finding something.”

“And you might be onto something, about not rebuilding. Too many bad memories in that house, I suppose,” Arthur mutters and keeps looking down at the crossword.

Alfie rubs Tommy’s back. Covers his head with his palm and gently caresses the scarred side.

“There are good ones too,” Lizzie says softly, but Tommy can’t see the look she’s giving him because he’s hiding his face in Alfie’s shirt, breathing quick and uneven.

Thankfully, right then, Finn comes through the door, and it breaks the tension in the room that everyone except Arthur seems to notice.

“Never seen you focus on something for this long, Arthur,” he grins and nods towards the crossword.

“Well, I’m trying to branch out,” Arthur mutters and furrows his brow. “You know, broaden my horizons.”

“He’s already learned five new words, it’s all very impressive,” Ada says, and Arthur is too engrossed in his new hobby to notice.

Finn pours himself a drink and sits down on the sofa, eyeing Tommy, but he at least picks up on the look Alfie gives him and leaves him be. Ada and Lizzie are both gracious enough to do the same. Instead, they all get involved in Arthur’s crossword, which therefore soon turns into everyone’s crossword. Alfie sits back and strokes Tommy’s hair, and he eventually re-emerges from his shirt and lays his head in his lap instead, watching his siblings bicker about the capital of Algeria while Lizzie tries to tell them they’re all wrong. When the whiskey bottle is half empty, they’ve turned to a card game instead, and the brief peace is long gone. It’s all a bit too loud and rowdy. Both Finn and Arthur have drunk too much, Ada isn’t far behind, but Tommy still declines Alfie’s suggestion of going to bed with a faint headshake. Alfie gets the feeling that he just wants to feel included, and there’s something heart breaking about the thought because they don’t really know how to include him, do they? Though Arthur makes a valiant effort with the crossword and Ada asks every time a new round of cards starts if he wants to play, even if Tommy only blinks every time he’s spoken to, never caught up enough with the conversation to respond further. And eventually she stops asking. They tread around him the way you do an injured baby animal, afraid to touch it should the mother show up, but just as quickly forget about his presence in between the awkward attempts at interaction, reverting to talking entirely too loud and interrupting each other sentences.

And they may be doing their best to make up for past mistakes, right, and Alfie might have buried most of the old anger for Tommy’s sake, but he’s suddenly reminded that these people left him alone to slowly fade away in that bedroom at Arrow House, because they were too cowardly to face the tragedy head on. And though he quickly pushes that thought to the back of his mind, it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He eventually picks Ada up on the offer of joining in on the card game, if only so that he can show Tommy the cards and claim that it’s a team effort when he wins. When he’s lost count of the rounds and the shadows around the room have grown tall, Tommy is asleep, despite all the noise around him. Or perhaps because of it.

“Shh, shh, Tommy’s… Tommy’s asleep,” Ada hisses and waves her hand at Finn and Arthur who’re currently arguing about whether Finn has just cheated or not.

“He’s been asleep for nearly half an hour,” Lizzie says and refills her glass. “If your shouting didn’t wake him up before, I don’t think it will now.”

Ada and Arthur look at their sleeping brother, both suspiciously misty eyed all of a sudden, which might come down to the empty whiskey bottle. Alfie feels like it’s strangely intrusive.

“Right, think it’s time for bed anyway,” he says and scoops Tommy up into his arms with well-practiced ease, without causing him to as much as stir. Arthur is already halfway out of his seat.

“You sure-“

“Arthur I fucking swear if you keep insinuating that I’m so old and decrepit that I can’t carry someone who weighs about as much as a fucking kitten, I’ll kill you,” Alfie says.

Arthur slumps back down.

“Just don’t want you dropping him,” he mutters, which Alfie ignores as he leaves the increasingly drunk gathering behind. He’s pretty sure Finn waves.

…

A sharp banging wakes him. Tommy is still asleep, curled up against him, one of his hands tucked to his chin. Alfie lies perfectly still in the dark and tries to identify the sound, but his mind is moving slowly. Somewhere, he hears a door open, quick steps, another door, voices. The banging doesn’t stop, and he finally realises it’s someone quite literally trying to kick the front door down, and he sits up. Tommy shifts uneasily in his sleep as Alfie climbs out of bed, reaching for the gun in the bedside table. He pulls on his trousers, shoves the gun into the waistband, snags his shirt from a chair, and is out the door within seconds. Halfway down the stairs he realises it might’ve been safer if he’d locked it, but he keeps moving, hearing faint voices as he reaches the main floor, moves through the dark corridor, past the living room and through the kitchen towards the front door.

“I want to see him,” a woman’s voice he recognises but can’t quite place says. But the list of women it could be is pretty short and the sinking feeling in his chest proves right when Arthur’s response comes in a hiss.

“Pol, it’s the middle of the fucking night, and you’re drunk or high or fucking both. Go home.”

“Go wake him up. Bring him here. I want to talk to him.”

“You don’t get to come here and make any bloody demands, and you’re not talking to him in this state,” Arthur says. “You’ll upset him.”

“You’re not talking to him period,” Ada says. “Unless you’re here to fucking apologize.”

Alfie reaches the hallway and finds Ada and Arthur standing opposite their aunt, blocking her way. She makes for quite the nightmarish sight, Polly Gray, looks as if she hasn’t slept in days, eyes bloodshot and too wide, glazed over with a crazed shine that eerily mirrors the one in her son’s eyes. A light sheen of sweat covers her forehead, and she’s dressed in her nightgown still, underneath her long coat. If he weren’t furious, he’d understand the concern in Ada’s eyes as she looks at her aunt. Though her brother seems to share his sentiment, because Arthur’s eyes are hard as steel.

Everyone’s attention turns to Alfie as he enters the hallway, blinking in the light.

“Get the fuck out,” he says.

“I want to speak to Tommy,” Polly demands, words slurred. “He owes me as much.”

“Fuck off, he doesn’t owe you shit. And I’ll make sure that you never fucking see him again.”

Polly laughs. It’s a hoarse, awful sound.

“Why do you want to see him, Pol?” Ada asks, sounding weary.

“I want him to know, I need him to know… They’ve told me-“

“Jesus, who told you what exactly?” Arthur interrupts her. “You started talking to the ghosts as well?”

“I want to hear him admit it, that he- that he fucking brought this onto himself. I want him to take some fucking responsibility for once.”

The gun burns where it digs into Alfie’s back but he knows that if he pulls it now, he’s going to shoot her and it’s going to break yet another piece of Tommy’s heart, he fucking knows it will, and still…

“Right, I’ll drive you home, come on,” Ada says and walks up to her, but Polly shoves her away.

“After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve fucking lost because of him, he owes it to me to at least listen to what I have to say.”

“You can’t do this to him,” Ada says. “He can’t- you just want to hurt him.”

Polly’s eyes shift to something behind Alfie’s back, Alfie looks over his shoulder, and finds Tommy standing in the doorway, having snuck up on them on quiet, bare feet. He’s taken his blanket along, wrapped it around himself on top of the flannel shirt he likes to sleep in, and now he’s clutching it in a white knuckled grip as he looks at his aunt with sad eyes. Polly looks back and her gaze is as black as the night.

“I tried to forgive you, Tommy, I did,” she says. “When I came to Arrow house that day to see you, I did try. I thought if I only got to see you, I’d- But there’s nothing human left in you, just this fucking… darkness. And it spreads to everyone and everything you touch, I’ve seen, I know, even if everyone else seems to have forgotten-“ she looks at Ada and Arthur. “And I could see it in Michael’s eyes, that day when he came to me. How just being near you had corrupted him. I thought I had to try to save you, how laughable is that? As if I fucking owed you anything at all.”

Alfie has stood frozen, listening to the words as they pour like black tar from her mouth but at that, he finally breaks free of the paralysis and pulls his gun, aiming it at Polly’s head. His knuckles are white around the handle.

“You knew,” he says. “You realised he was about to do something, and you did nothing to stop him.”

Polly stares at him, mouth twisting into a smile.

“Solomons, put the fucking gun down,” Ada says, but stays where she is.

“Fucking hell, Pol, you let him set fire to a house with all of us in it?” Arthur asks, incredulous. “Charlie and Ruby were-“

“I didn’t know!” Polly interrupts him and her voice grows loud and shrill. “How could I have known? I thought- He only talked about Tommy. That house wouldn’t have burned if Tommy hadn’t been there-“

“Polly…” Ada begins, a pleading not to her voice.

Alfie steadies the hand holding the gun.

He can’t do this. He fucking knows he can’t.

“Michael wouldn’t be dead,” Polly says. “Aberama wouldn’t be dead. John wouldn’t be fucking dead-“

“Polly!”

But he has to.

“And all I’m asking for, is that he fucking acknowledges it!”

Alfie cocks the gun. The click finally makes the room go quiet.

He feels Arthur’s presence behind him, but he doesn’t dare coming too close. Ada is just a blurry figure to his side, she too frozen in place. His finger is tight around the trigger, and the rage pulses white hot behind his temples, spreads like wildfire through his nerves.

“Do it. I bet it makes you furious,” Polly hisses. “Oh, how fucking dare she say that about my precious little Tommy. Who’s done nothing wrong, who’s just an innocent victim in all of this. Poor, helpless little Tommy with his broken fucking head, who destroys everything he touches.”

Alfie’s finger squeezes tighter around the trigger just as Tommy appears before him, and thank God the adrenaline has sharpened his reflexes because he eases off right at the last second, before a bullet ends up in Tommy’s head. Tommy stands between him and Polly, at the end of the barrel of his gun. Alfie breathes sharply through his nose. Blinks to remove the images, ones of Tommy reeling backwards from the force of the bullet, skull breaking into pieces, blood spraying over the pale wallpaper, his still body lying sprawled at Alfie’s feet...

“Get out of the way, Tommy,” he grits out. His hand, unbelievably, is shaking. He was in the fucking war. He had all of London in the palm of his hand for years. He’s shot men at point blank range without batting an eye, and now, he’s shaking. “She knew, and she didn’t do shit. She made her fucking choice.”

But Tommy doesn’t move out of the way. He takes a step closer. Gently lays a hand on his outstretched arm. Alfie flinches at the touch and everything blurs around him except Polly Gray and the insane glint in her eyes. She knew. She chose not to say anything and how, how can she look at Tommy and not feel crushing guilt, look at what she’s caused, what she’s destroyed, all the broken fucking pieces no one will ever be able to put back together-

“Alfie,” a quiet voice says, and for a moment he’s certain it’s just his imagination, but it’s not, it’s Tommy’s, weak and hoarse from disuse but undeniably real. His world come back into focus, Tommy’s eyes locking onto his. Tommy shakes his head. “Don’t- don’t do this.”

“I have to,” Alfie says. “I have to do right by you. Someone- someone is fucking paying for this.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy says. Reaches out and cradles his face in the palm of his hand as he looks at him with soft eyes. “I’m- it’ll be okay.”

Alfie’s wanted to hear his voice for so long, hear him say those words himself, that it feels surreal when it happens. But he can’t let this go, not this too…

Tommy steps even closer until he’s all Alfie can see, his eyes that are as blue as the sky and the sea and forget-me-nots looking only at him, as if Alfie is the only thing that exists in the world, the very centre of it. Tommy runs his thumb gently over the scarred side of his face.

“It’s okay,” he says.

The gun slips from his hand. Alfie barely hears it hit the floor, he grabs onto Tommy, his too thin shoulder, the back of his neck, and pulls him close, holding onto him like a man drowning. Tommy wraps his arms around his waist. Rests his forehead against his shoulder for a moment’s reprieve, before he turns in his embrace and faces his aunt. Polly is silent, finally, as they stare at each other. No one dares to move. Tommy keeps his eyes steadily fixed on Polly. Her chest heaves as she draws shaky breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy finally whispers. He wavers on the spot as if the words have taken a physical toll. His hands bury themselves in Alfie’s shirt, holding on tighter. Something passes across Polly’s face, behind the eyes.

“Tommy,” she says. “I’m- I didn’t-“

“I want you to leave,” Tommy says quietly, but Polly stays right where she is and his voice breaks as he pleads, “Just go.”

That finally breaks everyone out of their frozen positions. Ada hurries over to usher Polly towards the door, arm around her shoulders, muttering things about driving her home, and Arthur trails behind them, hands on the back of his neck as he watches them step out into the night.

Alfie looks at the gun on the floor. It replays in his mind, Tommy stepping in front of the barrel… Moments, a fraction of a fucking second later and he would’ve-

He never should’ve raised that gun.

He should’ve dropped it the second Tommy appeared before him.

He should’ve put a bullet in Polly Gray’s fucking head. Couldn’t even get that right. Couldn’t protect Tommy, even from this.

His heart hammers so hard behind his temples that it’s all he can hear, all he can feel. His arms drop around Tommy, numb, something sharp and painful builds in his chest and he can’t be here, can’t let Tommy deal with this too, so he pushes him away. Flees the room, ignores Tommy’s cries as Arthur holds him back, Arthur’s voice, let him go, Tommy, let him cool off, because he can’t let Tommy see the fucking tears that well his eyes and he needs to get out of this house and away from it all.

The cool night air nearly knocks him off his feet as he tears open the glass doors in the living room to the darkness outside. He walks right into that darkness, stumbles until he reaches the stone wall surrounding the outer edges of the garden, and there his legs give in and he sinks to the ground, back against the cold stone. He buries his face in his hands and breathes through clenched teeth, trying to reel it back in, pull himself together.

But he’s so fucking tired.

“Alfie?” Tommy’s voice comes from the house, cracking at the edges. He’s afraid, of course he is with the way Alfie stormed off. “Alfie?”

His voice is closer now and Alfie breathes and breathes but can’t gather himself enough to answer, enough to be what Tommy needs.

When Tommy appears before him, he sees him through a blurry veil of tears. He’s barefoot, in the wet grass. Alfie pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes until white lights dance under his eyelids.

“Just need… a second, love, okay? Just a second,” he says and tries to put on a reassuring façade, just to get Tommy away from here. Swallows and swallows without success and the tears begin dripping down his cheeks as a choked sob rips from his chest. He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

Without a word, Tommy sits down next to him in the grass and hugs him, huddling close to his side and Alfie should pull away, tell him to go inside, that he’ll be fine, he just needs a second to breathe. Instead he leans into the embrace, buries his face in his shoulder. Wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer until Tommy is nestled on his lap and he can bury his face in the crook of his neck. He’s holding him too tightly, he’s going to hurt him, his fragile little bird, but Tommy doesn’t break, he just wraps his arms around his neck and gently runs his fingers through his hair. And his Tommy is all sharp angles and bones but right then he feels like a warm and soft little animal burrowing into him, a safe weight resting over his heart. Alfie finally stops trying to swallow down the sobs and lets himself cry against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry-“ that I couldn’t keep you safe, that you had to hear those things, that I put you in fucking danger, that I can never give you the retribution you deserve. I’m sorry.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he simply holds him. And Alfie lets himself be held.

#tommy x alfie #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #breathe again verse #home to you

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