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worldlxvlys · 8 days

Note

I HAVE A IDEA (MR CRABS I HAVE AN IDEA)

yk the new song ari came out with (we can't be friends) Chris fic were the reader and him are best friends that always flirt and they made out drunk at a party and have not been talking for a week untill Chris shows up at her house and they makeout and maybe some smut? Idrk

Anyways that's all 💋

we can’t be friends

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking/being drunk, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), squirting, cursing

a/n: i’ve been absolutely OBSESSED with this song and itching to write about ittt

i hope you enjoy

i let out a heavy sigh at his last text, before throwing my phone onto my bed.

of course i wanted to fight for us, but this was about more than just our friendship . this was about what was best for us individually.

for as long as i could remember, i always put chris’ feelings before my own. i spent so long chasing after him, just to end up heartbroken.

i watched him constantly pick other people over me, blissfully unaware of how deeply he was wounding me.

but no matter how much i wanted to, i couldn’t blame him. it was easier to point fingers at him than to accept the fact that this was partially my own fault.

i let him continue to hurt me, over and over again, never telling him what he was doing to me. and if i didn’t tell him, how would he know any better ?

so, even though it killed me to act so cold and distant toward him, it was time to look out for myself for once.

i needed to take the time to love and take care of myself before expecting someone else to do so.

sure, he’d be upset for a short while, but once he got over me he would easily move on to the next girl. that’s all i was to him, after all. just another girl.

i was pulled from my thoughts when i heard my front door open and close suddenly, followed by quick footsteps toward my room.

i waited behind my bedroom door, quick to swing my arm out in front of me when the person made it to the doorway.

i was met with chris, who immediately caught my wrist in his hand.

we stared at each other with wide eyes, neither one of us speaking. i blinked up at him, watching his eyes trail down to my lips.

“don’t do that” the words flew out of my mouth before i could stop them.

his eyes immediately shot back up to mine, a curious expression taking over his features.

“don’t do what?” he asked, loosening his grip on my wrist to let it slide down, intertwining our fingers.

“chris, we aren’t doing this. i meant what i said earlier, we’re better off not being friends”

“you keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why. you gotta talk to me baby” he spoke.

“i don’t want to” i spoke back, shaking my head as i backed up slightly to create more distance between us.

“how am i supposed to know what i did wrong if you don’t talk to me?”

he was right, of course he was. it was unfair of me to just cut him off with no reasoning. but the second we start talking about it is the second it becomes real. i didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that i was trying to end one of the most important friendships i’d ever had in my life.

“you didn’t do anything, chris” i answered. he wasn’t having it. “no, tell me. i’m not letting you just end our friendship like this, not without a reason”

“i just can’t be friends with you”

“why? what is so wrong with me that you don’t want me in your life? and completely out of nowhere” he spoke, his voice rising slightly.

“see, that’s the problem. i don’t want you out of my life, i want you in it forever. but you clearly don’t want that, and it’s ok.”

“who the hell said i didn’t want that?” chris asked, his brows furrowing.

“chris, it’s fine. you don’t have to try to make me feel better-”

“so you don’t believe me?” he cut me off.

“i mean, i don’t know, i just…” my babbling trailed off as i tried to find the right words.

“let me prove it to you” he whispered as he toyed with the strap of my tank top.

my breathing grew shallow as he moved the fabric down my arm slightly, pressing his lips to my shoulder.

“chris….we shouldn’t” i whispered, but tilted my head to the side, allowing him more access as his lips moved up my neck.

“really? you weren’t complaining a week ago” he spoke against my skin.

i slapped his chest lightly at that. “yeah, well we were also drunk”

he bit down on my neck, harshly enough to leave a bruise and elicit a moan from me. “so, you don’t want this?” he asked.

i let out a deep sigh, “of course i do, chris. but do you?”

he looked as though he was going to say something, but i stopped him “don’t tell me yes just because you want sex. i don’t want you to just want somebody, i want you to want me. if you’re just gonna fuck me and move onto the next girl, then forget it” i spoke.

the more i thought about it, the more i convinced myself that he didn’t really want me.

“hey” he spoke softly, cupping my jaw. “this isn’t about the sex, this isn’t even about me wanting you. this is about me needing you. this is about me not being able to live without you. yes, i’ve been with other girls. but there’s a reason that you’re the only one that’s always been there”

“i was so sure you didn’t feel the same, so i tried to move on. but i couldn’t, because none of those girls are you. and i’m so sorry that i hurt you, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to”

chris looked at me as though he could cry. his blue eyes shot back and forth between my own, his thumb caressing my jaw gently.

“so make it up to me” i whispered, pulling his lips to my own.

one of his arms smoothly slid behind my back, supporting my weight as i found it hard to keep my balance.

he kissed me like he had waited his whole life for this moment. his lips felt so soft against mine, unlike our last kiss.

this kiss made our drunken one feel sloppy and desperate, like two people who were just horny, but this was more than that. it was eye-opening, sweet, gentle, it was everything i didn’t know i needed.

but chris did, he always knew what to say or do to make me happy. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if i wanted to.

“let me make you feel good?” he asked when we pulled away. “yeah” i let out breathlessly, nodding my head.

“lay down for me” he said, leaving another kiss to my neck. i did as he said, getting onto my bed and laying on my back.

he wasted no time in crawling over me, his hands placed on either side of my waist. “can i?” he asked, lightly tugging at the hem of my top.

i nodded at him, lifting my upper body up as he pulled off my top. without a word, he attached his lips to my nipple while caressing the other with his hand.

i let out a loud moan at the feeling, beginning to squirm underneath him.

“shit, chris” i sighed out, his eyes immediately looking up at mine.

he swirled his tongue around the hardened bud, watching as my body melted into his touch.

he sucked on my tit until the skin turned dark, moving to the other to give it the same treatment.

“god, chris. feels so good” i moaned out while he continued to work my sensitive nipple with his tongue.

“you look so pretty like this” he rasped as he soothed my boobs with his hands, “can’t believe i have you all to myself” he mumbled to himself.

he moved his face downwards, leaving gentle kisses to my rib cage and abdomen. he paid special attention to every birthmark and scar he found, pressing a kiss to each one.

his fingers rubbed small circles into my skin as he ventured further and further down my body.

he stopped at the waistband of my shorts, leaving a kiss to my crotch area. due to the thin material or the shorts and my lack of underwear, my hips shot up involuntarily at the feeling.

“no underwear? such a dirty fucking girl” he spoke, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

he licked a long stripe up my pussy through the shorts, eliciting a long whine from me. “chris, stop teasing me” i spoke as i squirmed under him.

“you just make it so easy, baby” he spoke, before continuing to leave kisses down my thighs and calves.

“lift up” he spoke as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts. i raised my hips, allowing chris to pull them off.

i let out a sigh at the feeling of my heat being exposed to the cold air of the room.

chris stared down at my glistening pussy, mouth hung open slightly as he pulled my folds apart, spreading me open.

“my god, you’re so gorgeous” he spoke, blowing cool air onto my heat.

“hold your legs apart for me, beautiful” he spoke, his lips inches away from my core.

“so wet” he mumbled before running his tongue along my thighs, just missing where i needed him.

“chris, please. i need your mouth so fucking bad” i whined. “where, baby?” he asked, teasing me some more.

finally having enough, i wrapped my legs around his head, pulling his face into my heat.

he let out a long moan into me, his eyes rolling back as he licked up every drop of my slick.

my head fell back at the feeling, legs loosening around him to let him pull back if needed, however he stayed right where he was.

the words that fell out of my mouth sounded like gibberish, but i didn’t care about that. all i could focus on was chris.

the way he groaned into me, his needy tongue lapping me up like i was his last meal. his piercing eyes never left mine, only making the tight feeling in my stomach grow.

my arousal covered his flushed cheeks, making me even wetter.

there was something that i found so incredibly hot about how messily he was eating me out. it was like all he cared about was me finishing.

he moved his face from my legs, making me let out a whine at the loss of contact.

he stuck his tongue out, his spit dripping down onto my pussy.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself? ” he asked suddenly while he brought his finger down to my core to rub me.

“i- oh” i cried out in surprise at the feeling of his finger entering me.

“holy fuck, you’re so tight” he whispered as he pushed his pointer finger in and out of my tight walls.

“oh my god” i whimpered when he pushed another finger in.

“if you don’t answer me, i’m stopping” he spoke.

“this! i think about this!” i rushed out, eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his rough fingers inside of me.

“i think about how perfect your hands are. fuck- how long your fingers are” i struggled out between moans, “i think about you” i finished.

“yeah? what about my cock?” he asked as his fingers sped up.

“you think about what it would feel like for me to fuck you into oblivion? ” he asked as he curled his fingers, hitting my g-spot.

“fuck, yes! i’m so close chris” i cried out as he continued to plunge his fingers in and out of me.

“c’mon, you got it. doing so well for me, want you to make a mess all over me” he rasped out, fingers moving rapidly inside of me.

“chris, wait! i’m gonna-” i tried to warn him, but i was too far gone as my juices shot out of me.

the liquid dripped down his face, onto the saturated sheets underneath us.

“yes, yes, fuck yes” chris groaned as his mouth hung open. i leaned up slightly, watching the way his hips stuttered and his body shook.

“fuck” he let out breathlessly, as he began to shudder.

“did you just come untouched?” i asked, eyes widening slightly.

“if that doesn’t prove how much i want you, nothing will”

wait why’d i kinda eat ??? 🤭

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

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mrs-weasley-reid · 29 days

Text

Invitation Letter

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader | part 2

part 1 | Suit Jacket

Summary: The team finally finds out about your relationship with Aaron Hotchner.

Warning: nothing

A/N: not my gif, ctto!

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"WHAT?!"

You and Aaron looked at each other in his office at the sound of Emily's voice echoing in the entire floor.

"You think they got it?" You asked in an innocent tone as a growing mischievous smile lifted up the ends of your lips.

A knock brought both your attention to the door.

Aaron looked back at you. He was biting back a smile, "I think they did."

You chuckled and walked to the door. You gave Aaron one last glimpse before swinging the door open, spilling the entire BAU team inside his office.

Penelope was first at the door, losing her balance from an equivalent weight of four agents on her back. She waved a card as she stepped inside the office, looking back and forth between you and Aaron. "This! What? When?" She took a deep breath, "What is this?!"

You calmly went closer to Penelope and gently grabbed the card, "Let me take a look." You pretended to read the contents as if you hadn't printed them out yourself. "Looks like an invitation to me," You handed the paper back to Penelope.

"Yeah?" Emily butter in, shoving Spencer aside. "An engagement party invitation—"

"Your engagement party invitation," Penelope concluded, pointing at the two of you.

JJ, being the most level-headed person in the group, stepped in, "I guess what everyone is trying to ask is... What? When? Where? How? And how long?" She smiled sweetly, but you could sense her impatience.

"You will answer us now, and you will answer us now!" Penelope threatened in an ever-energetic bounce of avidity.

You chuckled as you stood next to Aaron's desk, "You just said the same thing, Pen." You exchanged looks with Aaron.

"That's not the point. Why didn't you tell us?" Emily crossed her arms like a toddler.

David peeked into the office, holding his copy of the invitation card. "Ahh, I see you told the children." He joined the commotion inside, closing the door as if it'd change anything.

Emily scoffed, pointing at David, "But he knew?! That's so unfair! I thought we were friends." Her face was in utter disbelief.

Derek spoke from the back, "I'm not going to lie, but I kind of feel betrayed." He sighed, now also crossing his arms. "I expected it from Hotch, but not from you." He looked at you disappointingly.

"It's not like we purposely kept it a secret," Aaron leaned against the back of his seat. "We were always off on the same day. Thought you all would've caught up by now."

"You said you have movie nights with your son every Friday. Are you telling us that's a lie?" JJ worriedly looked at Aaron as if he had done a horrible crime using his child to get out of work and go on a date with you.

Spencer hummed, looking at you, "I specifically remember you saying you spend time with family every Friday. You asked me about superheroes because one of the kids in the family loves superheroes... Were you both talking about Jack this whole time?" He questioned, tilting his head in wonderment.

You and Aaron nodded at the same time. The team even got a glimpse of Aaron's small smile. He cherished the days he spent with you and Jack.

Penelope groaned, "You lied to the three of us." She stood between JJ and Emily, pointing at themselves. "We asked if something was going on with you and Hotch, and you denied it! You lie oh so well."

Emily nodded in agreement, "Yeah, that hurts a little bit. I didn't see this coming." She placed a hand on her chest, displaying disdain.

"Relax, guys, I'm sure they have a good reason why they didn't bother announcing it to everyone." JJ turned to the two of you with an annoyed smile, "Right?"

"Honestly, we just thought you'd figure it out yourselves." You shrugged, gesturing towards David. "I mean, Rossi knew."

"Uh, duh! Pasta man always knows everything." Penelope remarked.

"Hold on, please. Let's not bring me into this. You're mad at your parents. Don't blame grandpa." David reminded everyone, sniggering to himself as he saw you and Aaron glare at him.

Derek placed a hand over Penelope's shoulder, "You still haven't answered our questions." He emphasized the last word. "Is this real? Are you guys really getting married?"

You glanced at Aaron and were about to speak when he beat you to it, "We've been together for almost three years and engaged for a month." Aaron didn't mean to talk over you. He just felt like it was something he really wanted to announce himself. He was as excited as you were but just a tiny bit casual about it.

"A MONTH?!" Penelope's eyes were wide. You worried that a sudden move might cause it to pop out of her sockets. "We missed Hotch on his one knee?! Oh, my golly gracious! Pictures? What about pictures?"

Now that she mentioned it, a small part of you felt regretful that you and Aaron weren't great at capturing memories together. You just were always in the moment and forgot to stop one second to leave a picture behind.

Penelope shook her head as if she could read your mind. "You don't have pictures of your engagement?!" She freaked out, fanning herself.

David raised a finger, fishing his phone in his pocket. "Ah! I think I have some." He began tapping on the screen.

Emily scanned them and gave David a blank expression, "No offense, Rossi, but you suck at taking pictures. Sergio can take better pictures."

Another round of noises filled Aaron's office. He reckoned it had never been that crowded in that room before. The two of you watched as your small family of agents childishly reacted to your secret relationship. They responded just as you both predicted: a complete madhouse.

Aaron stood from his seat, walking around his desk to wrap you in his jacket. He did it more upfront, glancing at you with a smile as he laid the lapels of his coat flat on your shoulders. He fixed the collar, leaning against your ear, "Let me borrow this for a second, sweetheart." He whispered.

You only knitted your brows as you tried to make sense of what Aaron meant. Your hand reflexively felt the base of your neck as soon as you saw your engagement ring glistened in Aaron's hand. It may have caused you a mini heart attack when you felt nothing, but you quickly realized that Aaron meant to borrow it for everyone to see.

Everyone's mouth shut as soon as they noticed their unit chief on one knee, lifting your ring, just like the first he did.

JJ clasped her mouth with both her hands. Penelope had her phone in a flash. Emily was smacking Spencer's shoulder, to his dismay.

"You're my solace. The one person that I found myself vulnerable and yet the safest. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, so I hope that you'll allow me to spend it with you." Aaron spoke your name with such softness and love. "Will you let me marry you?"

A huge smile was plastered on your face. Granted, Aaron had said the same words a month ago. You were wearing a better dress, one of his jackets around your shoulder, per usual. His suit was more for leisure and not his everyday office attire. The venue was more privy and gave both of you such intimacy you couldn't help but cry.

But despite the crowded room and unromantic setting, the effect was still the same.

You felt the rim of your eyes heat up, nodding vigorously as if you hadn't been engaged for the past month. "Yes!"

Aaron placed the ring on your finger for the second time and grabbed you into a quick, soft kiss. The joy he felt coursed through his body. He couldn't help but have you in his arms.

The team cheered, clapping their hands in excitement. Some raised their hands to express their happiness.

"She said yes!" Emily jumped out with joy. She had one of her arms wrapped around Penelope's.

Penelope was satisfied; even if it wasn't the proposal in her mind, she was happy to be a part of such an amazing event in the whole team's entire lives.

"Now, can you all go back and do your jobs?" Aaron spoke firmly, jolting everyone into place.

You lightly smacked his chest as you laughed. You turned to the others and smiled, "He's kidding."

"I'm not," Aaron shook his head.

"He is," You clarified, giving him a playful glare.

Spencer was the one to break your banter, "So, like... do we call you mom, now?" The entire team looked at him as if he was asking the obvious. "What? I was just making sure."

"Come here," Emily hooked her arm around Spencer's neck, dragging him out of the office. "Don't worry, Mom. We'll set him straight." She kidded, leading the line of agents out of the office.

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hopelessromantic5 · 3 months

Text

Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #igraine #merthur fic #from the drafts #if I continue it would only be a second part

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

Text

Let's Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house.

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

The secretary had just arrived at the office not too long ago, shift starting at six pm and going until midnight. The typical hours for a creature of the night.

Like a sweet breeze that blew stray leaves through his office’s open window, a stranger came gallivanting through the boundaries of his door, contract in hand. Faruzan, the office receptionist trailing after you with your proper introduction.

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.”

He certainly wasn’t expecting this when he walked through the sliding doors of the building. The biggest company in Sumeru, the firm that specialized in such dubious pacts.

In an age where humans now outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten the once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to play by mortal rules. One such rule, vampires can no longer drink human blood.

Animal substitutes were of course inferior in both taste and satisfaction, any vampire would know this. However, there’s a loophole to this law. Vampires can’t drink human blood legally unless it’s consensual by both parties, established through contracts. Business exchanges for money, power, or glory.

Of course, this practice is heavily regulated. Hunters who uphold the balance ready to rip the hearts out of those who dare make an unfair deal. Alhaitham is the simple secretary who files these contracts, not one of the agents tasked with such things.

Still, he’s intrigued. Even in this office there are many who have yet to see the face of this elusive vampire, how did this human identify him? He was looking for an excuse to stray away from dull lines of files, might as well entertain your musings.

The ashen-haired immortal pulls out a seat for you, nodding to Faruzan sending her out of his office, giving you privacy. Alhaitham ambles to the other side of the polished wood, settling down on his plush office chair.

“The process for filling a contract is straightforward, even though this consultation wasn’t planned, if negotiations go well you’ll then undergo a psychological evaluation.”

You nodded your head lightheartedly, posture relaxed in the chair.

“So,” he begins.

“What are your demands?”

“Marry me.”

Dead silence. He certainly wasn’t expecting a proposal this Monday night. Were you wasting his time with a joke?

You must’ve read his unfazed mask. Quickly pulling a pen and notepad from your pocket.

“I’m being serious, I want you to be my husband.” Hands swiftly jotting sentences down on paper.

In your graceless handwriting, you listed all your qualifications. Age, name, blood type, and financial status. You also detailed some self-prescribed personality traits.

Alhaitham skips over that section.

Marriage contracts weren’t unheard of, nor were marriages between humans and vampires. He believes such practices weren’t deemed illegal solely because of human morbid curiosity and desires.

No immortal, with their centuries of knowledge and wisdom, would waste such energy on a mortal, without a price of course. It would be a fool’s errand to not have fair compensation.

“For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine.” You point the pen toward him.

How romantic.

“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal, Mr. Alhaitham.” There’s a curl to your lips, resting your elbows upon his polished desk.

With a slight sigh, Alhaitham pulls out a form, pen swiftly recording the necessary information. There’s going to be a long process of straightening out the clauses, but this should suffice for approval.

“Why me?” He inquires, straightening out the proposal on his desk.

“You’re handsome, have money, and I like your voice.”

The rustling of papers and pens stopped. Dead unamused silence.

“Pfft! Too brash? Sorry, sorry, I was only joking,” giggling as you waved it off.

“Well, to be fair the real reason isn’t much better, to be honest.” You leaned in closer, creeping towards the unseen boundaries of his personal space.

“I often see you passing through the streets, guess I got enamored from there.” Your smile was shameless but your cheeks were tinted pink.

A hopeless romantic, that answer suffices him for now. He could’ve easily shown you the door, but life has been stagnant for a few decades. History repeats itself if you live long enough to see it, new occurrences are rare. As the sky deepens from indigo to midnight, two bodies sit across from each other, discussing sentences written on paper.

“I’ll contact you in three business days with the verdict, have a good night.”

“I shall await the news.” You beamed at him, warm and icy hands meeting for a handshake.

Just as you entered, you left with that same giddiness. Now left with his thoughts, Alhaitham reviewed the documents, he had three days to ponder whether or not to submit them to the legal team, and through the judgment of a certain scarlet-eyed General Hunter.

As per Sumeru regulations, all offices run by vampires must have uncovered glass windows. An attempt conquered by humans to enfeeble creatures of the night. Alhaitham’s beryl gaze traveled up the length of the building stationed across the street.

What an ironic placement for a hospital to be facing the biggest firm staffed by immortality. Or perhaps it was strategic, after all the most desperate humans are the ones who lay upon their deathbeds for one last hurrah.

The perfect scheme to keep the blood contracts flowing in.

Teal eyes observe the room right across through the glass, it seems freshly vacant. New untouched sheets, new unflatten pillow, and fresh towels.

Alhaitham can now confirm the validity of your statement, a half-truth.

When deciding on a contract, one must weigh the pros and cons, to see if they balance or if one side gives away to another. Your demands? You wanted to experience married life, all aspects of it. Your offer? Your everything.

All your assets together can’t hold a candle to the amount Alhaitham has accumulated for centuries, but it’s a decent amount. Perhaps due to a medical settlement.

Alhaitham has lived long enough to rein in primal desires, he can suffice off animal substitutes just fine. However, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a taste of the real thing again. You offer him a steady supply, and to give him every last drop after seven years.

Yes, all of this for a mere seven-year contract. A deal heavily tipped in the favor of the vampire, not even a mere fraction of the time immortality offers. However, what piqued his interest the most weren’t the benefits listed.

A garden wall the tall vampire can’t peer over. Insight only attainable by those who near the end of their finite paths. What’s it like to have agency? What’s it like to have such finite time?

He’ll have seven years to observe. He submits the forms on the third day, delivering your verdict over the phone. Alhaitham agrees to entertain your little daydream.

On part that it was Alhaitham who personally filed the forms, the approval process went swimmingly, skipping the paper line. Tighnari oversaw the psychological evaluation, test after test confirming the sanity of your mind, speeding up the process of getting that stamp.

–

“What flowers do you like? I’m planning the decorations.” Your legs swinging under his kitchen table.

The contract was approved, hands held and certificates signed at the town hall, your belongings moved into his house. It’s excessive to want a celebration after all of that.

“Whichever flowers you want.”

Alhaitham will hold his tongue, after all, he’s signed to play the role of a husband.

–

The venue was spacious, high ceilings with marble floors and pillars, all of which were lavishly cluttered with Padisarahs, Sumeru Roses, and Kalpalata Lotuses. Alhaitham stood at the altar just off to the side of the wedding officiant. Tuxedo crisp and hands folded together, he scans over the rows of guests invited.

Since there weren’t any in-laws, Alhaitham assumed you wouldn’t have much of a social network. No one’s correct all the time, he ignores the piercing glares of a few eyes. The all-too-loud tones of a grand piano resound through the room. The previously shut doors open to reveal your figure. Embellished dress and veil perfectly framed by the carved entranceway as you ambled your way up the aisle.

The twilight hues of the sky dye the white gown in everchanging vibrancy as you passed by the standing crowd, up the steps to the altar, and finally in front of him. The overwhelmingly floral scent of the bouquet itches his nose.

Alhaitham pays no mind to the soliloquy of the officiant, he simply follows the rehearsed procedures. Sliding the gold band onto your finger and allowing you to do the same to him, lifting the veil to reveal your starry-eyed gaze he places a practiced kiss against your warm lips.

Is this excessive ritual over yet? No.

Alhaitham stands in the corner of the reception hall, hand nursing a glass of wine. The rich spices of the buffet offered to the guest irritated his palate. Supernatural creatures with their enhanced senses, a double-edged sword. Human food serves no purpose to vampires, it’s over-seasoned and pungent. At least your species has created drinks such as coffee and wine, delicacies even immortal creatures can enjoy.

In the center of the artificially lit hall, you eagerly greeted all your guests as they beamed at you. Giggling and hugging each person as an entourage of three friends helped with that embellished gown of yours. Two pairs of eyes from said entourage occasionally glared at him, their bodies forming a barrier to separate groom from bride. Candace and Dehya were the names you introduced to him.

Your starry-eyed self blissfully unaware of the silent cold war as the scarlet-haired dancer calls the attention of the two hunters back for the bouquet toss. Alhaitham was nothing more than just a decoration, you just wanted an excuse to prance around in a pretty white dress and throw a fancy party. He’s your husband, he’ll tolerate this daydream.

–

“Did you enjoy the reception?”

Only after the send-off and closing ceremony of the celebration, when the bride and groom were behind the thick oak doors of their suite, that you seemed to remember the decoration named ‘Alhaitham’.

“Yes, it was lovely.” The wine provided by the venue was of the highest quality, it entertained him enough.

“I hope you’re not upset at me being busy with guests.” Your arms found their way around his waist.

Quite comfortable encroaching on his space huh.

“I’m not.” Better they talk to you and not him.

As his cold hands pat the exposed skin of your back, his teal eyes didn’t miss the trail of goosebumps that prickled your skin. Shall he move on to the next scene? The lacing of your dress seems quite complicated, he assumes that it must have taken a few pairs of hands to tie it. Should he be a good husband?

“Do you need help with this?” His baritone voice was right against your ear, noticing the flush on the tips.

“Yes.” For once your voice was just barely above a whisper, a blushing bride.

The lacing weaved in and out of eyelets running down along the length of your back, how troublesome. Always one for efficiency, Alhaitham simply takes a handful of the taught lace and pulls, they snapped like simple threads. Such things offer no resistance to a creature of the night. The gasp that escaped your lips feed into something deep within.

With the bonds loosened, the embellished dress of yours lost the fight against gravity, fabric pooling at your feet. Revealing to teal eyes the lacy white stockings, garter belt, and panties, all the hallmarks of a wedding night. It’s impossible to deny the hunger crawling up his throat, no force of nature could resist such a sight.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s rude to not offer the groom some help, no?” His hunger enjoyed that scarlet flush on your face.

Indecisive fingers going for the easiest button, opening the tuxedo jacket allowing him to shimmy it off his broad shoulders. Teal eyes continued to survey your flushed face, the smirk on his waiting for your hands to continue. Obeying his silent command like a good bride, you loosened the bow tie next, finally freeing him from that stiff collar.

Slowly your eyes peered up, asking if the torment was over yet, the slight rise in his ash brow directing you to resume. From your lips came the beginnings of a whine to which he sternly shushed. If you couldn’t even undress him how would you be able to do the other vulgar activities?

Finally relenting, your fingers continued with their clumsy attempt at unbuttoning his dress shirt, once a small window of his chest appeared your face pressed against the cool skin, staying there until all the buttons were undone. Oh? So even you can feel shame?

“Shall we continue on the bed, my bride?”

Your face was still hidden in his chest as you nodded, where did that shameless nature of yours go? With your gaze adverted he didn’t even bother hiding the curl of his lips. Sweeping you off the ground, he could hear the flutter in your chest increasing as the distance between the bed closes.

Upon silk sheets, Alhaitham settles down with you in between his legs and back against his chest. One key difference between humans and vampires? Body heat, one creature’s cells produces warmth, while the other simply remains the temperature of the environment. Your flushed skin seared itself into his, icy and hot mending together to create an equilibrium.

Of course, a good husband would warm his wife up. Alhaitham runs his cool palms along the length of your plush thighs and leg, absorbing the warmth as his own, soothing the shivers and goosebumps on your skin. Every now and then boldly creeping up the sides of your waist to twist at your perked nipples, enjoying every jolt and whine.

“Oh? Since when was this transparent?”

A firm hand grasps your chin, directing your vision towards white lace panties, the fingers on his other hand tracing over the shape of your cunt through the soaked fabric. Another lovely whine left your lips, face burning even more as you weakly protested in his hold, too powerless to do anything.

Skilled digits honed in on the nub that made your body jolt away, rubbing the faintest of circles over the delicate fabric, your legs trapped by his robust arms standing no chance to preserve your shattered dignity. As such, you had to follow his desires tonight.

“Or are you excited just by a few fleeting touches? What a lewd bride you are.”

It seems that you were telling the whole truth when you exclaimed how much you liked his voice, his finger could feel the slick that began to seep through the lace. Brushing the fabric to the side, Alhaitham allowed his middle finger to collect the slick along your slit allowing the rest of his digits to warm up against your cunt’s soft mounds. His throat felt parched as the sweet scent teased his nose, but now was not the time, maybe later in the night.

“Will you be honest?” The heel of this palm freely pressed against your clit as his middle finger continued to run up and down your wet lips, every now and then almost slipping.

Your body couldn’t hide its eagerness, hole clenching at nothing every time his finger passed by. However, he needed confirmation from you. Communication is important in a contract no?

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be honest.” You pressed your back flat against his chest, trying to hide your face but his firm hold wouldn’t allow it.

“Good girl, then tell me what you desire.” His crisp breath provides your searing skin some relief.

Your plush lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes shut, cheeks heating up even more. It wouldn’t be good if you passed out from heat exhaustion so quickly. He grinds his palm into that sensitive nub, tormenting the answer out of you, nectar now dripping onto the sheets below.

“I want to c-cum,” You breathed out.

How direct, close but it wasn’t what he was looking for.

“You have to be more clear with your instructions, how do you want to cum?”

“Y-your fingers.”

“Good girl.” Finally, his finger breached your soaked entrance.

Pulsating walls welcomed him with unyielding squeezes, dragging his soaked digit further. Your sweet moans and whines resounded through the spacious suite, the volume of your voice directing him toward that spongey spot deep within. You were wet enough for another finger, so Alhaitham adds another, two digits stretching and exploring your soaked cavern.

“Mmmh! T-there!” Your toes were curling.

“Mmm.” The hum vibrated in his chest as his fingers went hard at work, thrusting into your quivering walls.

Each time his palm would slap against your clit your honest hole would clench down so endearingly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the muscles in your leg tensing up more and more. It’s obvious that you were close, but before he fulfilled your demands, he decided to be proactive and prepare for the next step.

Releasing your chin from his grasp, allowing your head to lull back against his shoulder. Alhaitham reaches between your bodies, hands never pausing their pace, swift fingers undoing the confines of his trousers. Allowing for his member to lay right against your back, the jolt of your body at the foreign object pressing against you made his hunger worse.

“Did you get more turned on? You’re clenching down tighter, did you want it that badly?”

Even if your eyes refused to meet his, the way your hips grind against his length, warming it up, told him all he needed to know. Your gummy walls constrict more around his fingers, it’s time to wrap up this scene, the next one is even more exciting. So his palm now digs into your clit, circling the now swollen bud in combination with his finger pressing against that nice spot deep inside.

“C-cummin-”

How cute, he didn’t even need to ask you to announce it. Letting your body ripple with the force of the orgasm, trembling limbs within his solid hold. If he was merciful, he would’ve continued to slide his fingers in and out, or maybe continue to caress your little nub, guiding you back to reality. However, hunger doesn’t allow for mercy.

Removing his soaked digits away from your pulsating cunt, teal eyes observing the transparent strings that clung to them with amusement. A small appetizer wouldn’t spoil the main meal, skilled tongue cleaning his fingers of your slick. Your head still limp against his shoulder, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasure. To bring you back down to earth, it's best to use a new type of force.

Effortlessly, your hips were lifted up dripping cunt lined up with his impatient length below. In one fluid motion, your walls encase everything, drenched cunt giving no resistance as his tip kisses the spongy spot. Alhaitham lets a hiss escape him, it was as if he thrusted into the sun, your walls quickly bringing his member up to its temperature.

From your lips another moan was ripped out, oh it seems that you’ve plummeted back to reality. Your cunt trembled yet gripped onto his cock like a vice, coaxing him to go in deeper, encouraging his hunger to abuse your gummy walls even more. Barely riding out one wave of pleasure before another drowned you.

The hunters at your wedding could stick to your side the whole celebration, they could glare at him all they wanted, and they could try their damndest to keep the vampire at a distance. However, it was all efforts wasted in vain. For it was you, the blushing bride, who walked straight into his arms in the end, so open and receptive.

As he slides out just the slightest bit, your cunt protested by desperately clamping down, begging for his thick girth to stay in. In response he tightened his grip on your hips, lifting your body back up before bouncing you back down. What a glutton for pleasure you were, even as your little mouth whimpered and babbled, your walls thanked each slap of his hips with squeezes.

Sadistic hunger wanted more, to thrust deeper, to bully that poor spot inside of you over and over again with his thick tip as your walls stretch to accommodate the girth. His thighs collected the mixture of sweat and slickness from your body at each thrust. Your fingers dug into his hands, fingers white as you tried to grasp at anything to ground yourself.

“F-fast, too m-much.” There was drool escaping the corner of your parted lips, eyes barely back from seeing the inside of your head.

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

Alhaitham grinds to a stop, member still pressing deep inside you as he pulled you closer so his breath could ghost over your nape. In an instant, your mouth and cunt protested, you should be more clear with your instructions.

“N-noo.” Crying over the ruined tension.

“No? You wanted this.” His finger finds its way back to that swollen nub, flicking it a few times to watch the jumps of your body.

“If I let you cum, then I’ll do it my way, is that clear, my bride?” Tormenting your clit with firm circles.

“Yes! Please! P-pleasee.”

So weak against his voice, the sweet calls of a beast to lure you into the depths of depravity. Such is the fate of a shameless bride. Thus, his hips sprang back into action with renewed vigor. One hand keeps your hips still and the other remains on your clit to force that knot to reappear deep inside you.

Nothing but nonsense and moans babbled from your loose face, nectar dripping down to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each pistoning of his hips. Your frantic hands entangled themselves into ash-mint locks as he felt gummy walls closing in tighter and tighter, your toes curling at the end of spread legs. Sinful slaps increased in frequency throughout the room as did the pace of the finger on your clit.

Your tense body held the warning of another storm, another fall off the edge into the depths. Alhaitham brushes his nose up your nape, the floral scent didn’t distract him from the goal laying just behind the skin. Your nerves were exhausted from the shooting pleasure, now was the perfect time to finally get his share. It’s only fair.

Prepping the area with a slow lick as his hips continued their brutal pace, incisors brushed against the delicate skin before piercing through. His hand shot up from your hip to your neck, a loose grip holding you still as your body tensed then violently shivered. The frenzy clamping of your cunt on his length was proof of your fall. Loose jaw uttering out broken moans as tears dripped down your chin.

The fresh scarlet flooded over his tongue and down his throat as Alhaitham continued with his slow suckling. Ah, you were very much like a flower, so delicate, so fragrant, and so bittersweet. It’s been almost a century since he last tasted the real thing, his body celebrated by filling your walls with thick release. An equivalent exchange of some sort.

A human body is quite frail, losing over two pints of blood borders on fatal territory. It’s not good to deplete a resource so quickly. Alhaitham releases your neck, running his tongue over the wound to seal it up. Teal eyes checked your complexion to ensure his measurements were accurate. Cheeks still with a healthy red flush as your chest heaved with pants, eyes glistening with tears. Such a shameless sight. He allows your head to roll onto his shoulder.

The rhythm of your heart settles back to its resting state as Alhaitham analyzes the taste he just experienced.

“I love you,” you breathed into his shoulder.

Alhaitham stiffens, the herbal aftertaste of your blood was bitter, the tang dried out his mouth causing a drawn-out pause. This is no good, he can’t miss the cue to say the line a bride longs to hear from her groom.

“I love you too.”

The choir of crickets from the world outside filled the void along with your pants.

“Pfft! Maybe let’s not say that, it’s too weird.” You shamelessly laughed, lifting your face from his skin.

What a relief, at least you seem to still have sense. Such words felt forcefully wedged into a script that wasn’t written for it. Might as well remove the line altogether. Moving on from the scene, Alhaitham lets you enjoy the warmth reflected off his body by yours.

It’s in the clauses to allow you to enjoy all aspects of marriage, so enjoy this honeymoon segment.

“Haitham, can you carry this for me please?”

“Haitham, I can’t reach, can you get it please?”

“Haitham, let’s have panipuri tonight!... Can you cook it please?”

It would’ve been better if he remained nothing more than just a decoration. It would’ve been easier if he was just a view for you to see behind glass. Perhaps Alhaitham’s acute eyes misread the contract, did you want a husband or just a maid?

Instead of sitting down in his own house to enjoy a book, he finds himself saddled with domestic responsibilities.

Must you call on him for everything?

Laundry and groceries aren’t that heavy. If you can’t reach the top shelves with the duster, then just get a chair. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ could prevent the downward tug of his lips every time you call him that doltish name. Your justification of a ‘nickname’ between lovers was moronic.

“Huh… Haitham how come you only use salt?”

Why do you make a creature who doesn’t consume such foods cook them? You’re more than capable of cooking for yourself every day. Although, Alhaitham would prefer it if you stopped using such overly fragrant herbs and spices.

Of course, when two breaths occupy the same space, there are bound to be pieces that don’t fit together, just as two breaths never sync. Alhaitham already factored those into his decision, but this was more proof of why a theory is always second to application. How troublesome the reality of marriage is, no wonder divorce rates are so high.

A good actor knows how to stay in character, so he’ll keep these thoughts to himself. Just as he lists your quirks silently.

One, you’re capricious. One moment silently enjoying a drama on the TV you asked him to purchase, body hogging the entire expanse of a couch. The next, you’ll be humming as plates and cups clatter in the sink, or the heavy thumps of your steps as you bound through the house with a mop. Alhaitham prefers it when you’re stationary, at least it doesn’t disturb his reading.

–

Two, you drink tea, an unfathomable amount of it. A warm cup always nestled between your fingers, bitter water mixed with honey. The herbal tang finds its way into your blood, making it taste like medicine. Thus, Alhaitham treats it as such, medicine just to alleviate suppressed bloodlust taken in moderation.

–

Three, you wanted to celebrate everything. Each square of a calender marked with scribbles. Why celebrate a celebration that’s already past? What is so special about a birthday? The past two years you purchased the same bundle of pungent flowers that made up that bouquet on that day to gift to him.

“Don’t you want a taste? I saved a slice just for you. Oh, would you eat it if I sprinkled some of my blood on it?”

Alhaitham swiftly accepts the plate from you, lifting the fork of overly sweet birthday cake into his mouth. Useless carbs take up space in his body, but such a thing causes no harm. Better to taste like pure sugar and not medicine.

–

The worst quirk of yours? You rise as soon as the sun greets the sky, adamant to not miss a single second of a day. Every day’s itinerary is filled with spur-of-the-moment decisions, such as going to a farmers market only open on Saturdays between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm. And how you drag him along.

Curses, only a human would drag a creature of the night into the day. What sadistic creatures, delighting in others' misery, you’re no exception.

“I thought you said vampires aren’t like how TV depicts them.” Curious eyes observe his slouched figure.

Vampires aren’t like how those dramas of yours depict them. No formal invitation to cross wooden thresh holds, no garlic braids as an effective shield, and no turning into a pile of ash at the mere rays of a star.

If so, then vampires would’ve been long gone by now. However, just because the sunlight can’t kill a vampire-

“It doesn’t mean it’s not unpleasant.” His stoic voice was too tired to add a bite.

You continued to stare at him with wonderment, as if what he said was the most complex theory known to the universe. Those dramas must’ve rotted that mind of yours, he concludes. You’re beyond saving.

“I see.” Gentle hands lift the excessive sun hat from your head.

Reaching on your tiptoes you place it atop his head, the straw brim providing some reprieve for his irritated skin. Shuffling the hat around until it’s securely nested along his now trussed ash locks. Satisfied, you lower yourself back down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We can go home..”

Tenderly, your hands clasped around his, guiding him into the shade. The whole walk your hands never left his, eyes always searching for the next patch of shadows to lead him into. For the rest of the weekend, you just watched your dramas, the sensation of guilt must’ve muted your voice.

Good. He celebrated this rare break in his library away from you.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Monday night rolled around again, as he passes the living room, he spots your loafing body napping on his couch as the TV acted as white noise. Tsk. Regardless, it’s time to get to work, he walks toward the front door.

“Wait,” came a soft command, dripping with sleep.

From around the corner, your figure comes stumbling towards Alhaitham, his hand still firmly on the knob. Hands busy trying to rub the fatigue away from your eyes, blinking away the pleasant dream you were just in.

Why did you abandon it? Alhaitham doesn’t know.

Your frame reaches his, transferring some of your warmth to him, arms outstretched towards his neck. Teal eyes don’t miss the way your drowsy legs were wobbling. To prevent any accidents, he supports your body with an arm around the waist.

Just as he feels your body steady, clammy palms encase the sides of his face. Pulling it down as your supple lips pressed against his cool cheek. Did you traverse all the way from the sofa just for a kiss?

“Have a good night at work.” Your shameless smile beamed.

A habit formed from one of your dramas, a wife bidding goodbye to her husband with a sweet kiss to boost his spirits. Curiosity must have gotten the better of you, or maybe you wanted to amuse yourself, two possibilities Alhaitham devises.

–

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Kaveh’s smug tone grated against his eardrums as the blond rested an elbow on the bar table.

Alhaitham couldn’t stop the frown from forming, nor the heavy sigh, so he took a hearty sip of his wine. Emptying the glass in one fluid motion.

“Heh, I see you’ve been enjoying the spoils of marriage very much,” Tighnari snickered.

“Sure, if you wish to see it that way.” Alhaitham’s hand found itself pouring another glass.

It seems that everyone around the ashen-haired vampire was enjoying the spoils of this odd union, everyone but him that is. His miseries fueling the chaff nature of his acquaintances, still he needed a reprieve to drink.

Not that herbal blood of yours, but something actually palatable like the fragrant wine washing the frustrations down his throat. It’s not marriage, it’s having to work overtime.

“Regardless, you signed a contract, you must uphold the clauses.” Cyno’s scarlet eyes leered over the rim of his glass.

Alhaitham sighs, he should’ve drank alone.

–

The tavern wasn’t a far journey away from his house. The deep hues of night slowly shift to the youthful flushes of dawn. He’s been drinking for quite some time, it didn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on a body such as his.

Alhaitham twists the key, the door creaking ajar just to reveal your figure with arms crossed. Disappointment ever so clear in those eyes of yours.

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your tone.

After a few hours of reprieve, Alhaitham is welcomed home with an interrogation. Wonderful. Why should he answer this meek creature standing in front of him? He could just walk to bed and get the rest he deserves.

‘You must uphold the clauses.’

Right, Alhaitham has to play the role of a husband, he signed a contract, too late to just burn the papers now.

“I went drinking with coworkers,” he curtly answers.

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?” Your head tilts, disappointed eyes still honed on him.

Why does he have to inform you of his every movement? Who were you to demand so much of his individuality? Alhaitham couldn’t help the frown that reappeared, directed at you, the hurdle that blocked him from entering his own home.

The grandfather clock counted the seconds in the background, two sets of eyes locked in a stare-down. One frowning and one disappointed. How long will this last?

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh left your lungs. Eyes finally finding rest behind two heavy lids.

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed.

Your back straightens again as you lean in closer, eyes recentering on his towering form. They no longer held the burden of disappointment, they twinkled with something else.

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call. I got worried.”

What wasted concern, why worry for an immortal creature?

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either, but if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text. So I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.”

Alhaitham scans over the discoloration hanging heavily under your eyes. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. Phone shut off by habit, unaware of how you were losing sleep as he emptied bottle after bottle. He has to remedy the situation now, it’s what a husband should do.

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers.

Is he allowed back into the confines of his own house now?

Your hands were now positioned defiantly on your hips, brows quirked up as if expecting something more.

No.

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted.

The magic words to finally open the path into the house, words that finally returned that grin to your face. Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek.

“Welcome home, Haitham.”

Ah, he knows what that twinkle in your eyes was, sincerity.

Audiences rarely see the behind-the-scenes of a movie, with directors always handpicking which mistakes are charming enough to be shown as a blooper. Audiences don’t see the multiple scenes filmed then refilmed, they can’t experience the long hours, and they don’t know how many times lines were misread. Three years is enough time for actors to learn their lines.

“Is my drama too loud?”

Alhaitham peers over the top of the journal, focusing on your face peeking through the entrance of his library. Judging by the apron, he guesses it's almost time for dinner, the dialogue playing on the TV was just above a muffle from here.

“It’s fine, remember to turn on the kitchen hood.”

“Okay, which wine did you want to baste the meat in?”

“Top left, how long will it take?”

“Pfft, famished already? 15 minutes, you won’t waste away in that time right, Haitham?”

The ever-so-adventurous palate of yours and the ever-so-drab palate of his. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, two existences that bend and twist each other until equilibrium. Equilibrium in the form of a steak basted in red wine, rare for him and medium for you. A dinner that could be enjoyed by both breaths.

–

“Oh?” Your bewildered eyes blink at the bouquet presented to you.

A wrapped box held tenderly in your hands. Alhaitham had taken note of a certain scribble marked on the calendar, it was he who got the fourth bouquet. Placing an order ahead of time to ensure the freshest flowers.

“You said they smelled bad.”

“I’m used to it.” A half-truth.

Your lips couldn’t suppress its toothy grin, balancing the box in one hand as the other accepts the bouquet.

“Since you have every book in existence, I got you something else.” You nudged the wrapped present toward him.

Unraveling the decorative paper his eyes were greeted by the sight of a carved figure of a… what is it? Meeting your eager gaze, the quirk in his eyebrow told enough.

“It’s a hawk, I saw in storage that you used to collect these decorations.”

Ah, you found a petty hobby he had decades ago to torment a certain someone. A figure serves no practical purpose in a home, but the eagerness of your eyes was enough to find the endearing gift a place on a shelf.

–

“How does one make their blood tastier?” You pondered into his embrace.

His tongue traveled up the nape of your neck to collect the escaped drops of scarlet and to close up the wound. Your bare skin pressed against his, rising his temperature to a pleasant warmth.

He could feel every shiver as his length shifted within your overstimulated walls, recovering the overwhelming pleasure experienced just moments earlier.

What an obvious answer, stop drinking that tea of yours. However, Alhaitham prefers when you have the energy to trot through crowded walkways at dusk with him in tow. Bittersweetness is an acquired taste, one that took him some time.

“Since you have enough clarity to ask questions, I’m assuming you’re up for another round.” His husky breath ghosts over your ear.

“Wait~ I’m still sens-Ah!”

–

Over time, something as short as five years, even a trickle of water can crave a home for itself in the rocky foundations of the earth that’s existed since the dawn of time.

The side of the polished dinner table with the clearest view of the TV was your side.

The mug left in the sink with the faint aroma of tea and sweet honey was your mug.

The couch with cushions misshapen and molded by repeated use was your couch.

Such is the lull of domestic reality, each kiss at the door to bid goodbye and each kiss to welcome him back.

Nothing, not even immortality, is resistant to time.

Due to the crowd you’ve built your circle from, hunters were semi-frequent guests at his home. Much to your delight and his dismay. A husband should get along with his wife’s friends.

“Your complexion has gotten paler.” Candace’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed, her hands turning your face from side to side.

“Mmm, I haven’t been going out during the day as much.” Resting the weight of your head within her palms.

“Bullshit, he’s been using you like livestock,” Dehya snapped.

“Mmm? Not really, he says my blood taste like leaves.” Halfheartedly lifting your face out of Candace’s warm hold.

“Don’t cover for that bastard,” the Flame-Mane hunter scowls.

“Need I remind you ‘that bastard’ is still in the room?” Alhaitham breaks his silence.

“Who said you could speak?” Sapphires clash with beryls.

“Who’s home are you currently guests in?”

Even without glancing down, Alhaitham could tell that Dehya’s hand was twitching to reach for the silver dagger hidden up her sleeve. The hand then falters back down, Candace must’ve also noticed, steadfast eyes sending a warning to the other hunter.

“Of all people, why did you have to marry this vampire?” Dehya turns to you exasperated.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

With the finger pressed against your lip and your eyes wandering up towards nothing, Alhaitham couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just faking it.

Your pondering filled the room with silence, three pairs of eyes intently trained on your frame. Eyelids closed as you deepened your thought. After a few beats, they fluttered back open.

“Because he’s just too handsome.” There’s that shameless smile again.

The disgusted expression that plastered itself all over the hunter’s face at your response almost pushed a quiet laugh from his lips. However, Alhaitham wanted to avoid a physical confrontation from starting in his house.

If there’s one virtue you have, it’s that you’re a fair person. You perplex your friends and husband to equal degrees.

It’s now time for the hunters to start their night, much like how Alhaitham will soon report to the office. The two women and you were now at the threshold of the door bidding goodbye, their skeptical eyes every now and then glaring behind you at the vampire.

“Oh, one more thing,” your voice perks up.

Arms encapsulated two sturdy frames, pulling them close against yours.

“I love you guys.” Your words make the two robust warriors take a sharp inhale, bodies tensing up momentarily.

“We love you too, very much.” Candace’s voice forced itself to steady.

“Yeah.” Dehya pulled you closer.

After a few beats, you pulled away from your friends. Lighthearted grin lopsided on your face.

“Alright then, stay safe out there,” you chimed, waving at them.

After their figures disappeared from view, Alhaitham shut the oak door. You still peered out the curtains, daydreaming something as the stars reflected in your eyes. He observes for a moment before he collects the cups and dishes that once held tea and sweets to entertain bygone guests.

You were already surrounded by love, genuine love. Why did you sell your soul to experience something you already had? Alhaitham will save that question for another day.

Would you try saying that line to him again? Maybe this time he read his line without hesitation.

–

Alhaitham’s heavy lids shot open. The unwelcome greetings of morning birds signaled the time of day. Keen eyes scanned over the empty space beside him, sheets still trussed in the shape of a smaller figure. The bird songs rang like sirens, heightening his senses.

For once his ageless body left the bed without protest, swift steps pattering through the dim halls until the backyard came into view. Sunlight poured in through the open door, the wooden mounts perfectly framing your slumped figure.

Tired body balancing upon the basket of damp laundry, halfway from the backdoor and clothes line, you stopped to take labored breaths.

Swiftly he was by your side, towering stature blocking you from the harsh rays. Alhaitham lifts your fatigued body from the ground, giving your aching legs relief. Even with the sun hanging high in the sky, your skin didn’t absorb an ounce of warmth.

He takes you to the safety of the dim house, settling you onto the soft cushions of your couch.

“Don’t push yourself.” Alhaitham shifts a few pillows behind your back.

“I wasn’t, the laundry needs to be hung,” you huffed.

“Just call for me.”

You sounded out a whine of protest, but your breathing steadied. Alhaitham moves to stand back to full height, ready to finish the task awaiting out in the sun.

“Wait,” came your soft call.

Plucking your favorite sun hat off, you bestowed it upon unkempt ash locks still dusted with sleep. Fussing with the oversized straw brim until it stayed in place. Once satisfied you beamed, fingers caressing his smooth cheeks before placing a peck from curled lips.

“Thank you, Haitham.”

Adamant hands smoothed over the damp clothes, ensuring that they didn’t dry on the line with wrinkles that stayed stubbornly. The morning rays felt like sand against his exposed skin, but the hat bestowed upon him made it tolerable.

–

“It’s dusk, would you like to stroll through the market tonight?” Beryl eyes inspect the curled figure of his wife among cushions and blankets.

“Mmm, maybe not tonight.” You sink deeper into your couch, drama long forgotten.

“I see.” Alhaitham moves to the armchair just adjacent to you, a frequent perch of his now.

“Come here?”

Just as you finished blinking Alhaitham was by your side again. Slowing lifting your upper body just off the cushion, you pat the now free space, welcoming him to sit. He wouldn’t be a good husband if he were to deny such a request. So he sits.

Once the ashen-haired vampire was fully situated, your head found its place upon his thighs.

“Lap pillow,” there was that giggle of yours.

Alhaitham sighs, but he couldn’t prevent the corner of his lips from curling up, so he hides it with his book. This must be something you learned from those dramas again. He’ll humor it.

His cool fingers run along your scalp as his teal eyes switched between your resting face and the words printed along the aged paper.

Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow when the rays of a selfish star kiss your cheeks.

–

The drinks were served quietly, the tavern didn’t seem as lively tonight. Perhaps because it’s the busy season, Spring air carries with it the signs of renewing life and tax forms.

“So, how is she, the wife?” Kaveh traverses the stagnant air.

What a redundant question, Alhaitham knows they can smell the fragrance lingering on his body from you, the aroma of flowers only found in a garden beyond a line immortals can cross. The scent of an ending journey.

“I’ll send some more Kalpalata Lotus tea, one cup a day should help with lethargy.” Tighnari prescribes, making a mental note to prepare the delivery once he returns home.

“Thank you, how much would I owe?”

“None, just a gift for your wife.”

Alhaitham hums in gratitude, and the table continued to play cards placidly. Throughout the rounds, his teal eyes stole glances over to a dark screen.

The group dispersed at dawn, but it wasn’t long before Alhaitham acknowledged the presence behind him.

“Alhaitham.”

He only glanced over his shoulder at the tan vampire.

“Remember the punishment that awaits those who dare disturb the cycle of life.” A threatening crackle resounded from the curled fingers by Cyno’s side.

Alhaitham already knows and Cyno knows it all too well. After all, the privilege of a good true death was stolen away from the white-haired man many years ago. Cursing the shorter man to eternity. Thus, Cyno now spends eternity punishing those who dare break the most sacred law.

Alhaitham responds with a nod and with that the two men parted ways as the rosy hues of dawn dyed the sky. You’re probably in bed already, it’ll be his kiss to announce his return.

–

In an age where humans outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to obey mortal laws. The most sacred of laws, vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. It’s illegal, it’s immoral even to curse such fleeting creatures with eternity.

However, vampires are creatures born outside the grace of god from the very start, lurking in the shadows of iconoclasm. What difference would it make?

It’s his night to make dinner, steak with red wine sauce.

What is the difference between blood and wine to the inattentive eye? The scarlet hues could be easily mixed. All it would take is a sprinkle, drops stirred into the fragrant sauce served over the juicy meat, for you to abandon your humanity. For the ticking of a grandfather clock to stop its hands.

Who wouldn’t want more time?

A scene from a night now long past resurfaces at the front of Alhaitham’s mind.

–

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence after a moment of passion.

Your damp skin glistens under the moonlight, your chest rising and falling as the lust slowly blinks away from your eyes. Alhaitham’s hand on your back guides you down from cloud nine. You stared at him inquisitively, teal reflecting back to him as he remains silent.

Ashen hair tussled and scratches fading away from cooling skin, he awaits your answer, schemes manifesting.

You let out a hum, signing that you’ll humor his question this time, as your face rests against the pillow comforted by his woodsy scent.

–

If you had more time, he would have more time. More time to pick your brain. More time to search through the archives of your thoughts to decrypt you. More time to grovel at your feet for forgiveness after he rips the humanity away from your arms.

Alhaitham is a prideful thing, but he’s not a dense fool. He knows when an apology is necessary, insight gained from his time shared with you.

Teal eyes glance back behind him towards the living room, where your figure sat quietly, attention distracted by the pair of lovers on screen in the midst of a tense argument. Never once turning behind to glance into the kitchen, not one ounce of suspicion. The scene finishes.

–

“I was born a human.” Your lids opened again, meeting his beryl-like eyes.

Irises pure like the moonlight reflected in them. He hums in acknowledgment, fingers tracing mindless scripts into your tender back.

“I will die as one.”

He hums in confirmation.

–

A riddle he couldn’t quite solve to bypass the sphinx who guards the sanctuary of your mind. Humans are greedy creatures of conquest, always wanting more, always hungry for more. That’s why creatures like him exist and thrive, feeding into the natural greed of humans.

Every human wants more power, more money, more wisdom. Every human wants more and more and more. Every human, so why can’t you want more? It seems that the breeze who gallivanted into his office, proposing to him with a contract, won’t reveal her secret.

As it was outlined on the paper signed by two names, he shall honor your wishes for now until the end, such is the character of a husband.

Alhaitham runs his hand under the kitchen sink, shameless eyes watching as the water turns clear again, and as the skin closes up. A feature only a creature born outside the jurisdiction of god would have.

He finishes the meal with a few sprinkles of freshly cut herbs, serving the untainted sauce over juicy cuts of steak, one cooked medium and one cooked rare. He calls you over to the dinner table.

The average human life span has increased drastically in the past centuries, it’s now about eighty years give or take.

Still a mere fraction of the time held by vampires.

Eighty years, and yet you could only have a fraction of that. You could only offer him a sliver of a fraction.

–

“It’s been a while since you’ve fed, aren’t you hungry?” Your eyes peered over at him.

Alhaitham wipes the washcloth along your back from beside the porcelain tub, steamy water carrying the fragrance of Nilotpala Lotuses. The humidity of the bathroom made the shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag, but the moisture helped with your coughs.

“I’m satisfied.” Another half-truth, teal eyes scan for any signs of discomfort, he can bare it.

“Really? I’m sure my blood doesn’t taste like leaves anymore.” You rested your cheek again on the warm washcloth, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights as you looked into his.

The gift by Tighnari sitting untouched in the corner of a cabinet. Perhaps you’ve gotten tired of the bitter herbal taste, or maybe because there wasn’t a point in drinking it anymore.

Alhaitham fought the urge to click his tongue at your brash humor, only you would worry about how you taste during the closing days of a contract. However, his lips couldn’t form a frown when you beamed at him like that.

–

On the path to work, beryl eyes landed upon a bouquet arranged with familiar flowers, the petals dyed by the rich hues of dusk. The florist was busy gathering up the displays to bring them back inside for the night.

“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase this bouquet.”

That night at the office, the staffed vampires crinkled their noses at the overwhelmingly floral scent that plagued the floor. Alhaitham just shut his office door, bouquet resting in a hastily prepared vase, such a thing won’t kill a vampire it’s such a minuscule issue.

“I’m home.” He locks the door after him.

Keen hearing not picking up the pattering of feet along the hardwood floor. Placing the flowers on the entranceway table along with his dress shoes, the ashen-haired immortal trekked through the halls, silence ringing in his ears.

Behind the solid bedroom lay his answer, turning the knob, Alhaitham feels tense muscles loosen as the steady melody of breaths resounded through the room.

You’ve been here since this afternoon, body now imprinted into the plush mattress. Still, your blood still runs and your chest still rises, even if there were faint hints of wheezing it was good enough. Quiet as a shadow, Alhaitham removes his blazer and tie before joining you under the sheets. He’s been craving sleep.

A timeless body doesn’t need sleep, ageless cells don’t require such downtime to recover. However, claiming that vampires don’t enjoy sleep would be a blatant lie. A calm way to pass the endless time offered by eternity, a nice way to escape boredom.

Or maybe it’s because sleep gives immortal creatures a taste of an experience they’ll never have. Peaceful expiry.

Teal eyes observe the ever-present curl of your lips before cool lips are pressed against your plush ones. A habit formed after six years. The flowers were still left at the door, but they’ll survive the night. Alhaitham will show them to you in the morning, and you’ll beam that grin at him in the morning.

–

Fresh flowers rested in a vase gifted by friends on the nightstand, the last flowers of Spring. The delicate blooms give way to the vibrant greens of Summer. Such a cruel season for vampires, with days so long and nights so short. A cruel season that offered your body no additional warmth.

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against the apples of your cheeks, your unconscious body protests in an instant with shivers and curls away from the thief stealing what precious heat you had. As if burned by fire, the vampire retracts his hand.

Right, he can’t be greedy. Teal eyes watch every tremor until his legs finally remembered how to walk. Pacing to the closet Alhaitham pulls the Winter covers out from storage, insulating your body with the thick duvet.

The layers form a barrier protecting you from icy touches as he smooths out the wrinkles.

When humans walk into a garden, their eyes are immediately drawn toward the most beautiful blooms. Watching intently at how the petals of the young blossom unravel, their senses enjoying the heavenly fragrance. It’d only be a matter of seconds before their inevitable greed takes over, and they wish to claim the flower as their own.

In this sense, the gods are no different than the mortals who were crafted in their image. Greedy to pluck the most beautiful blooms from the garden for their mere amusement.

Is that what went on behind the garden wall those born outside the jurisdiction of god couldn’t peer over? Alhaitham wonders if you’d answer this inquiry of his. However, if he wants answers, he’ll have to ask soon.

How should he say the last lines of this script?

Alhaitham ponders. There wasn’t a director to give a cue, no parenthetical to follow. Perhaps he’s entertaining such futile thoughts to distract himself.

With each wheeze of your chest, the itch in his palm grew unbearable. His thumb begged to dig its nail into the smooth skin until scarlet droplets trickled out. However, it never got its chance for soon your ailing fingers occupied the space, interlocking to halt its motion as gold rings clinked together.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice babbling with a giggle.

Alhaitham’s cool skin hogged your warmth, trying to permanently sear the temperature into itself.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” You craned your neck away with a deep exhale, exposing the vulnerable skin to him.

There’s nothing viler to a vampire than stagnant blood. Blood that no longer runs tastes rotten, cold blood is worst than bile. Your blood still ran warm, he could sense it. This time it was his incisors that itched.

Keen eyes don’t miss the way your nape prickled at the breath that ghosted over it as his lips parted. Your lids gently shut, bracing yourself. The incisors brushed against your exposed jugular, but they couldn’t break through the delicate skin. They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t.

Like the cowards they were, they retreated. Alhaitham closes his lips, deciding to press a tender kiss on the spot instead. His free hand guides your head back into a comfortable position on the plush pillow.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.” Your eyes were open again.

“I’m not holding myself back,” he spoke the truth, the whole truth.

You were born with blood, it’s only right that you die with it, Alhaitham concludes.

The ending clause of that contract be damned.

“What a silly vampire.” Your bell-like laughter twinkled in his ears.

Yes, he is. Even after all these centuries, Alhaitham realizes he’s still no better than a fool. A shameless fool. An idiotic hypocrite ready to stray away from the principles he thought he held firm. He’ll accept this verdict, he’ll continue this fool’s errand, if and only if you continue to giggle at his antics.

Outside the window came the dirge of Summer crickets, gentle crips accompanying your fleeting wheezes. Alhaitham shifts the thick comforter up your body, smoothing out the wrinkles as the soft warmth lulls you away.

Your still fingers in between the spaces of his, your head curled within the space between his nape.

Under the moon’s pure rays, lay two bodies atop soft sheets, curled towards each other, the fleeting warmth long dissipating. Atop silk sheets, one body envisions the two buried under cold dirt and not clean comforters with hands somehow still locked together. Deep under the garden wall.

Once the cruel sun creeps into the sky, and the night flees into hiding with her stars, Alhaitham will have to make a call.

He’ll have to speak with the receptionist on the other end, with their bright customer service greeting, and get a legal pronouncement of death. Then soon after that, he’ll have to arrange the transportation of your cold husk. He’ll have to lower you into the ground alone.

However, the morning is still hours away, the moon is still here to lend her quiet sympathies. So tonight, just for tonight humor his little daydream.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

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the-final-sif · 2 months

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what is your opinion on the situation?

I've been at work all day so I haven't been able to sit down with stuff fully, it also seems like Caiti is planning to release a statement later today with more information I think? So I'd like to get her response there, but based on what I've seen so far I think I fall more on the side of "people made some dumb choices and should learn from them" than anything else.

Consent is messy and it gets messier when people start lying or are drunk. In this case, both Caiti and George were drunk. From what I understand, either Caiti had a 21+ wristband from the vidcon party, or her friend group did and assumed since she was drinking with them, she was also 21+.

Honestly, when it comes to the matter of underage drinking, I don't think it's even remotely fair to place blame on Dream/George for that. The blame there lies with Caiti deciding to drink while under 21, and on her friends, Ghostie and the other person present who were both over 21. Unlike Dream/George, both of them knew Caiti and knew exactly how old she was and were letting her drink. They were also letting her drink with no one sober and no one making sure she got home.

Now, Caiti is 18 and also I'm not a goddamn square, I'm not gonna stand here and be like "oh no drinking at 18 clutch my pearls" but like, if people are going to blame other people for that situation, that very much lies with Caiti's friends who knew they had an underage person drinking with them. I feel like people are weirdly assigning blame to Dream/George for not like, iding every person they hang out with (particularly if she had a 21+ bracelet at vidcon, which would mean she already got IDed). While completely avoiding placing any blame on the people who 100% knew they were taking an 18 year old drinking without a doubt.

Putting that aside, from my understanding George's side is he believed at the time that she was having fun, and the most they did was cuddle on a couch with other people there. He believed at the time that everything was cool, and that she later decided she was uncomfortable with what happened.

Honestly, I don't really think that's an unfair reading. At this same party, her best friend was there and from Ghostie's own words, she also didn't realize Caiti was uncomfortable until several months later when Caiti told her. If her best friend didn't notice she was uncomfortable or see anything wrong, then I find it hard to think anyone else would pick up on it.

There's certainly risks taken here that I wouldn't have taken. I think that George needs to do better with checking for consent and maybe vetting the people you're hanging out with. Although I also understand that doing a full background check on everyone you ever meet is an absurd requirement and if, at the time, they trusted the person that they actually invited, I get how that shit happens. Per consent, given that he was also drunk, I get how it may've appeared to him that he had consent. I do think it's still something to work on, but I'm also perfectly aware that in real life, people are often going off vibes and social cues, and sometimes those don't mash.

I also think that Caiti's friends have been pretty shitty throughout this. They take no responsibility for having let an 18 year old drink and then ditching her. They are absolutely milking drama out of this shit and they have a weird obsession with blaming Dream for shit he had no fault in.

As for Dream, I don't think he did anything wrong here. Full stop. If Caiti's best friend didn't notice that she was uncomfortable or unhappy, it's insanely unreasonable to expect Dream to have managed that. He was also drunk and hanging out with people, and he had no way of knowing Caiti was underage. None of that shit was his fault, and his statement seems very measured and reasonable. People are trying to blame him for things that he had absolutely no part in, and the UK group are absolutely trying to pull that shit.

Overall, sounds like several people involved made dumb choices, I hope they learn and grow. Otherwise all of this honestly sounds like shit that should've been talked out privately and not tossed to the internet for speculation. Human beings are messy and will fuck up sometimes. This feels like a case of miscommunication and people making risky choices that left people with some hurt.

Again, I may change my mind with further evidence presented, but that's how it feels to me.

#dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #discourse #sif speaks #sif answers #idk man I think I just have more irl experience with these sorts of situations #like #shit happens in real life #and I think maybe part of the problem with like twitter #is you have a lot of 15 year olds that have never been drunk or fucked in their lives #who are totally sure they know exactly how consent works and how sex goes in real life #I really liked the greendot talk I got about it back in college #I should find a recording of that sometime for people #It laid it out really well that consent is not an on-off switch #It's a door that you're opening #and depending on the circumstances you take risks with how you're opening it #0 risk is like the two of you have a formal plan #and have signed contracts #and then you start to move up through situations that can be more risky that something goes wrong #and someone gets hurt #And honestly for irl consent I found that was so much more of a valuable framework to look at things through

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hana-no-seiiki · 9 months

Text

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

YANDERE! ACTOR OC x IDOL! READER x YANDERE! FAN OC

— inspired by oshi no ko & lana del ray’s pretty when you cry. ff: did you know i was gonna have my usernames in social medias be “akumarine” which mixes my two fixations att (oshi no ko & iruma)? no? well now you do!

tw/cw: yandere themes; mentions of seggs and substances but no smut. mentions of non-con. reader is a cold-hearted bastard. substance use. character death. murder. reader gets called pretty (but that’s a gn term so fite me). necrophillia.

this was inspired by uh… one of gen’s stories. let’s say. and mr. devil’s stoner reader.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“I’ll wait for you babe, that’s all I do, babe.”

GENIUSES WERE BORN, NOT CREATED

That was the mindset Kahliel had. Some people were literally and figuratively born different. Only a select few were able to gaze into the intricacies of their craft and tune it to heights others could only imagine.

You were one such genius. It only took one gaze to understand that. You saw the set in ways even he didn’t account. The lighting, the blocking, and the subtle body language, the angles of which you thrived in. He only heard of your amazing work as an idol, how you manage to look entrancing in every shot and moment, how you are able to mesmerize even those that swore they hated you.

But genius, true geniuses also have one other trait Kahliel recognized. It was their heartless nature.

You two met on set years ago as young adults. It was one of his earlier works as the main actor. Not a film, but a musical. Even then he could see the void in your eyes. Your cold demeanor repelled the people around you. He could have never expected that kind of performance from a person who seemed to hate even the regular ground they walked on, much more the stage.

That musical launched him to stardom and led to you two having sex for the first time.

“All those special times I spent with you, my love. They don’t mean shit compared to all your drugsz”

It was embarrassing really. Kahliel had no time and therefore no prior experience on such things. But you just looked so pretty underneath the blue dim lighting of the club the afterparty was held in. A drink, maybe a couple of weed later and you found yourselfs in a dingy motel’s bedroom. Entangled in eachother’s bodies, the scent of sex, sweat and the strongest of all — puke wafting through the air.

He couldn’t believe it. He admired you for quite a bit. Sure you are stoic, standoffish. But there were times you’d defend him from other people on set. You weren’t cruel and unfair.

At least, he thought you were.

Kahliel was proud of his performance as an actor. So, as you left him that night. Without so much as a farewell. He does not cry.

He does not weep.

Even as his heart was shattering.

HE MEETS YOU AGAIN ON MUSIC VIDEO SET. YOUR MUSIC VIDEO’S SET.

And it took him everything not to run up to you. He had not heard about you at all after the musical. Too focused with his own career and distraught by the way you treated him and left, he threw himself into acting, partying, fucking other actors and actresses — heck even randos or fans who’d take his money and shut up about it. It was only by destiny’s design that you two cross paths again.

“[Y/N]?”

“Yes?”

Indifference. The same look you gave him way back then. Like he was just dirt underneath your shoe. You probably don’t even remember that you’ve slept with him once before. Much less the kindness you spared when everyone else looked down at him. The very reason he entrusted his virginity to you.

But then, there was also something else. Your eyes were blood-shot. Your countenance, despite being as heavenly as he remembered, showed signs of deterioration.

You were high.

“No, I just wanted to give you these. As a token of acting together once again.” He said as he presented a large bouquet of spider-lilies, practically blinding you with its reds.

“Thank you. Leave them over there.” You pointed to a corner with a grateful smile.

Later on, he saw you throwing his gift in the trash. Not a hint of emotion on your face.

“But I don’t really mind, I’ve got much more than that.”

Viné was a fan of yours from the very beginning. Under the pseudonym Grapevine, he’d post regular updates. Essentially he stalked you for a living. He had a day job of course. But his true passions lied with watching you on the daily

You’ve gotten sloppy lately. You almost never check your gifts from him. Accepting them eagerly. Not a care in the world if they were bugged or with a tracker.

He used to think that it was terrible how you got into substances. Worried how it’d impact your health and performance on stage and screen. But now, now he reveled in it.

Viné already knew where you lived of course. But there were times where you’d move all of sudden or where he wasn’t free to check on you.

Now, his hands trembled in ecstasy as he watched you in your room.

But you were with someone else.

Viné didn’t care for much aside from what you starred in, and even in those songs or films all he could focus on was you.

So who was this man standing in your room as you were drugged out? Pushing you unto your bed with a grin so wide it hurt just to look at it.

Viné stared as this man defiled you. He watched as he saw him squeezed you tight, smothering his filthy lips all over your body.

You . . .

You were betraying him.

How could you do this to him? He supported you all this this time but this is how he gets repaid? A free show to watching his god be with someone else?

He does not watch the rest of the live-show. Utterly disgusted by your behavior and cheating.

He quickly made his way through the mess and trash strewn all over his house and grabbed a dull knife from the kitchen. He sets off into the night.

He had to teach you a lesson.

The two men, despite your arms going limp, continued their actions. Unaware that you had choked on your own vomit a while ago.

A smile was etched on your face, pretty as it always was.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yancore #tw noncon #yandere scenario #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere concept #yandere idea #yandere original character

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arkiliastuff · 3 months

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Always You

One shot | Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

Warnings : Fluff, a tsundere/upset Reader and a teasy Noah. (I can't deal with this man anymore he's too hot I can't stop thinking about him)

A/N : First of all, I wasn't planning on writting another one shot about Noah soon, but guess what plans changed. Also I didn't expect to be this long again, but how bizarre when it comes to Noah it gets longer...👀 And it turns out I like this fanfic very much 😌 Plus, listening After You by Meg Myers actually helped me a lot in the writting process. Hope you'll enjoy it ! :D

~ The little bean Taglist : @talialovesmiw

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You were walking back from the bar you were at, during the evening. You walked fast, irritated. Noah was a few feet behind you, looking at you with a grin on his face as he loved seeing you pouting and being flustered.

He teased you during the whole party, getting each time closer to your face as you tried to hide it, crimson red. You weren’t able to focus on anything else. You tried to talk to the other guys who were here, enjoying the break of a night party at the bar like you all used to do when they were back from touring. But you couldn’t even have a chat with any of them for more than five seconds. Noah was always by your side, putting an arm on your shoulder, or kept looking at you with his smile killing you each time.

He also knew and felt when you were watching him. While you were pretending to talk with the boys, you saw him in the corner of your eye, flipping his hair back from his face. This was something that always makes you lose your mind. This guy was completely draining every brain cell of your brain, the thought of him never leaving your mind. You were mad at him. He was teasing you way too much. That was unfair. Since he knew you had a crush on him, but tried to hide or deny it in front of him, he kept acting like that. You felt like he was only playing with your feelings and that’s why you were angry.

He knew how handsome he was to you and you were losing it. And so, during the party, you decided to leave because you couldn’t handle Noah anymore. You were about to explode if he went closer to you once more, your lips getting close every time. You were out of breath. You needed fresh air. So you left, telling the guys you were going home. And guess who decided to accompany you? Yes. Him. Noah. When he saw you leaving, he followed you, his stupid grin still on his sexy face. You let out an angry groan to hide how you were so flustered by his presence. And here you were again, walking fast in front of him trying to put some distance, but he quickly caught you up.

“Mad at me, princess ?” He said while walking by your side, still smirking.

You couldn’t take his teasing game anymore. You had to say something, otherwise, you were going to collapse at your feet. That’s the last thing you wanted to show him. Being vulnerable in front of him and admitting his teasy flirting was working so much on you. But you tried to keep it together, your anger helping you to hide a bit longer how you were drawn to him.

“Yes, I am !” You let out, angry.

“Oh? Why? What did I do ?” He said, acting innocently.

“You !!--” You clenched your fist, restraining yourself to punch his beautiful face “You know exactly what you were doing the whole night.”

“Well, you tell me.” He kept smiling.

You inhaled, getting ready for what you were about to say. You stopped walking, in the middle of the road, facing him, still with your red cheeks.

“No matter what I do, trying to talk to the others or even doing nothing, I always think about you. It’s always you. You. Over and over again. It always has been. You’re so selfish, Noah. I can’t get you out of my head. It’s been months since I have a big ass crush on you, and everyone seemed to know it before I told any of them. But you, you didn’t realize it until, God knows when, and now you’re playing with me! And I’m tired of this !! Just tell me what you want already !”

This sounded more like a confession than being angry at him. But you actually wanted to tell him your feelings for a long time. You were madly in love. So much that seeing his perfect face hurted you so much. You didn’t know how you could keep this up when you were hanging out with him and the boys. He was occupying every single one of your thoughts and dreams. You had to tell him at some point. You weren’t planning on getting angry at him. Yet, he really did push you to the edge. Somehow, he seemed to not mind you getting angry at him. He actually loved it. He kept his stupid smirk, like he knew you were giving up on avoiding him or pretending his teasing didn’t affect you. He leaned to your height, looking straight into your eyes.

“Well, I’m glad you only think about me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He said quietly, teasing you once again.

If you weren’t red enough, well you were purplish red, like a tomato about to explode. You felt every inch of your body burning, of anger or desire, or probably both. He had such a hold on you that you knew it was useless to fight or try to struggle with him. He always won and always will. Even if you already lost this battle with him, you tried not to admit your defeat as you crossed your arms against your coat.

“You’re still playing with me, are you? I knew it. You don’t feel anything for me, you just want to see me being madly in love with you to flatten your ego ?” You accused him.

He shook his head, still smiling at you but more genuinely this time.

“I’m teasing you to only see your reactions, pushing you a bit more to the edge, because I love seeing your cute face when you’re angry…” He said softly, still seductively teasing you.

He brushed his thumb on your red hot cheek, his cold gloved touch surprised you.

“... But I’m not playing with you or with your feelings. I will never. You’re too precious to me. I care for you, Y/N. I really do.”

You felt your heart flinch when he spoke your name so softly, his touch and words soothing you that made you uncross your arms.

“I guess, I’m also the one in denial who didn’t want to admit my feelings for you” He kept saying more gently “ Will you forgive me ?”

He put both of his hands on your cheeks, waiting for your answer. Was this real? You weren’t sure anymore as he teased you way too much. So you returned him the favor.

“Well… I’ll forgive you if you really mean what you’re saying to me.” You faked a pout.

He grinned again, loving you being the little brat you were.

“And what if I showed you that I really mean it ?” He said.

“Then do it, before I do it myself.” You said firmly, anticipating what was going to happen.

He smiled as he leaned closer to you, finally meeting your lips. You’ve been waiting for this, for so long. He probably had too, since how he pulled you closer against him, his strong arms caging you, deepening the kiss. This was even better than you expected, despite being in the middle of the street, people passing by behind you. But neither of you paid attention to the surroundings. It was just the two of you. You kept kissing each other until you were both out of breath. But you wanted more, you craved him.You wanted to taste his lips again. And as you stared at his darkened eyes you could tell he wanted to. The only thing that was pushing you back to go further was.. well processing your real first kiss with him. And also your own hesitation to keep going like this. Noah could see the messy blushing look on your face and he couldn’t stop smiling at the sight, with you in his arms, brushing slowly your fingers on his cheek.

“Finally giving up your shell ?” He teased once more.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation.

“And I see you’re not done teasing me, are you ?” You replied back.

“I’m not and I won’t stop. This is just the beginning. I’ll keep teasing you all night, baby.” He smirked.

You blushed at the idea of what he might do, but you forced yourself to not think about it.

“Ugh… Why am I not surprised? I should’ve expected that from you. You’re so annoying.” You pouted, raising your eyebrows.

To his dismay, you left his embrace, infuriated again and turned your back on him.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m coming home.” You let out, upset and tired of his teasing.

Yet Noah wasn’t done. It took him a few steps to catch you again. He grabbed you lightly by the wrist, stopping you from leaving. Then, he pulled you close to him, holding you from behind with his arms around your waist. Feeling his warmth in your back made you sweat as your body’s heat was increasing quickly.

“What the..? What are you doing ??” You stumbled, blushing again and almost ready to fight him.

“Don’t leave just yet.” He whispered to your ear “Let me hold you for two seconds. Then I’ll walk back home with you."

You expected him to tease you again but he seemed more sincere and serious this time.

“Fine…” You capitulated “But no more teasing, alright ?”

“Hmm.. No promises.” He mouthed, hiding his face in your neck.

You grumbled a bit before releasing the pressure and exasperation of his teasing, actually enjoying the cuddle. His breath was soothing you as he was inhaling the sweet perfume of your hair. Both of you stood in the middle of the road, hearing the cars passing by during this cold night. You were glad Noah was there. Indeed, he was keeping you warm, his huge body covering yours like a blanket. Two seconds had passed but you wanted to stay like this a bit longer, despite the cold getting through your thighs. Noah felt you were shivering and that’s when he decided to break his embrace.

“Come on, let me walk you home. At this rate, you’re going to freeze to death.” He said, gently holding your hand.

His tender touch caught you off guard but you didn’t complain. As long as you could be a little longer with him, that’s all that mattered. You looked at his gloved hands, so big compared to yours intertwined with his. Then you looked at Noah, staring at his profile and how he looked so gorgeous no matter which angle.

“That’s so unfair.” You mumbled in your scarf, hiding your red face.

“What’s unfair ?” He asked, looking at you, amused again.

“You…” You began and continued “You are so unfair. I cannot comprehend how you can be such a teasy fool and be so gentle at the same time ?!”

He smiled, with the kind of smile he always does. The one that showed his perfect teeth and the curve of his cheeks going up, making all of his traits harmonize together. The kind of smile that always made you melt. With that, he let out a soft chuckle, which sounded like a sweet melody to your ears. God, how much you loved seeing his genuine smile on his face and hearing his laugh.

“I guess, it’s just the way I am.” He replied, simply.

You were not really convinced by this answer though.

“You’re just surreal. Like you’re coming out of a dream.” You stated.

“Yet, I’m right here, Y/N. Right next to you.”

Your hand still in his, he gently put the tip of your knuckles to his lips, leaving the sweetest kiss you ever had.

“See? Is that enough to prove it to you ?” He smiled, satisfied to see you red as a traffic light again.

“Um... I guess so…” You stammered, avoiding his gaze, too much flustered for your own good.

The way back to your flat went well somehow. At first, you felt awkward about the silence between the two of you, but seeing that Noah didn’t mind it did ease you. He was enjoying this peaceful moment with you. Even if you were less tense around him, you were still processing what happened. All of his teasy behavior and him admitting his feelings for you was quite a lot to assimilate. You didn’t expect it to be that mutual.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize you had arrived at your front door until Noah told you.

“We’re here.” He spoke softly.

You felt your heart ache when you were about to let go of his hand. He took his time, as he didn’t want to let go either. You remained silent though, not knowing what to say or to do.

“Well… I’ll see you next time. Good night.” He said.

Panic started to rise in your chest, your heart beating so fast, as you saw him about to leave.

What did he mean by “next time” ? He couldn’t leave you like that. You wanted to see him as much as you could before he went back touring… And God knows when he’ll be back.

Without any other hesitation, you rushed to him and grabbed a piece of his black coat sleeve.

“Wait..! Can’t you stay a bit longer? At least… stay here for the night. You can sleep on my couch and you can go back in the morning. If you want.. of course.” You begged.

You stuttered at your words at the end, not sure if your request was appropriate. You lowered your head, staring at your feet as the embarrassment rose. You kept holding his sleeve, not letting him go this time. Noah turned around and leaned a bit to cup your face so you could look at him.

“Look who’s the needy one this time.” He mused, making you blush “Sure, I’ll stay with you. I’m fine sleeping on the couch.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he accepted your offer. You just nodded at him, smiling nervously as the both of you entered your apartment. You took off your coat and scarf before leaving your boots in the doorway. Noah did the same while following you in your living room. You started to put more cushions, a pillow and a blanket on the couch that you took from your closet. Then, you realized how small your couch was compared to Noah.

“Actually, I’ve realized that it might be better for you to sleep in my bed than here...”

He looked at you, tilting his head on his left, smiling at you.

“Oh ? How interesting. You want me so badly in your bed, huh ? You could have just asked right away, you know.”

You stepped back, waving your hands at him to undo the teasing he was doing to fluster you even more.

“No, no ! Erm.. I just don’t want you to hurt your back or anything… You know what, I’ll sleep on the couch myself."

“Or… If your bed is big enough for the two of us, we can sleep together.” He teased, getting closer to you.

Oh, no. Why did you invite him to your place again ? Right. Because you love him.

“I’ll promise I’ll behave.” he smirked.

Your eyes widened before stepping a little from him, trying to get yourself together.

“Well, you better be ! Or I’m kicking you out of the bed.” You warned him.

“Deal.” He chuckled.

Once you set up your bed with Noah’s help, you went into the bathroom to get changed into more comfortable pajamas. Not like you were nervous about how ridiculous it would look or not like you cared about Noah’s opinion either. He said he wasn’t going to do anything. Yeah, it was better to keep it that way. For now. Too many things happened during this night. You were barely realizing he was here, at your house, sleeping in your bed with you. As you were brushing your teeth, you were overthinking the situation. Come on, get yourself together! But how could you remain calm as the man you’ve always dreamt about was here now ?

You spat your toothpaste before washing your mouth and heading back to your room. Noah was sitting at the edge of it, undressing his black coat and his dark sweater, just to be comfortable in his turtleneck shirt. You never imagined a man could look that good in a turtleneck shirt. Timidly, you cleared your throat, interrupting your own fantasies.

“Sorry, I don’t have any other clothes that would fit you. But I have an extra tooth brush, in the bathroom’s small cabinet, if you want…”

He smiled at you so lovingly, putting his cheek in the palm of his tattooed hand, visibly moved by your concern.

“Worried about my well-being, are we ? How thoughtful of you.” He grinned

“Well.. Yeah..! What about it ?”

“I think it’s adorable.” He said softly, a large smile still curling his lips.

“Oh, shut up and go to the bathroom already !” You gave up.

He stood up and went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth. A few minutes later, he lied down in the bed next to you. You tried to hide your smile in the blanket, as you were getting close to him.

“Happy to see me, here ?” He said, amused to see your happy face.

You nodded shyly as an approval, making him grin again. You got closer to him, facing his covered torso before lifting up your chin to gaze at him.

“So… When are you going back touring ?” You asked.

“In two days. I’ll help everyone get everything packed up tomorrow. Which is why I’ll leave early when the morning comes” He replied quietly.

You felt a bit sad, imagining him leaving already, but that was a thought for later. You rolled a bit more with the blankets, like a sushi.

“Thank you for staying tonight, Noah.” You mumbled after a short silence.

“My pleasure, sweetheart." He responded softly while stucking a strand behind your ear.

His gentle touch made you melt again. You snuggled a bit closer to him feeling his warmth and breathing his cologne. How relaxing it was. Noah wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you close to him.

“Goodnight.” He said, leaving soft kisses on your forehead.

As you were going to sleep, you barely heard him. And also you hardly remembered saying “ ‘Love you” to him.

When you woke up, early in the morning, the other side of the bed was empty. You put your hand on the mattress, hardly feeling Noah’s warmth. He left early as he said last night. You couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholic as you stroke the bedsheets to remember his presence. You missed him already. Then, under your touch, you found a piece of clothing, hidden under the blanket. You recognized it. It was Noah’s sweater. The one he was wearing last night. As you were wondering why he left it, your phone buzzed on the nightstand next to you. Curious, you picked it up.

Noah : Thank you for the night, princess. The bed was comfortable with you cuddling me. You can keep the sweater as a souvenir. Love you too.

You let out a small laugh while you read his message, holding his sweater close to you. You could still inhale Noah’s perfume, as if he was still with you.

“Idiot…” You murmured to yourself with a smile.

He sure was a teasy idiot but you loved him so much. It was impossible for you to get him out of your head. And you liked it that way.

#bad omens fanfiction #badomens #bad omens fanfic #fanfiction #bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x female reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens band #noah sebastian fluff #fluff

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

Text

What Remains in the Wake - Eddie Munson

Part Two of Until the Chaos is Through

Part One - Until the Chaos is Through

Part Three - Blessed Silence After This Mayhem

Part Four - Heinous Regret With No Salvation

Summary: You're left reeling after your boyfriend Eddie's infidelity. It doesn't feel like you'll ever move on, and a tiny part of you wants to go back to him.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, swearing, implied/referenced cheating, again maybe steve x reader if you squint, you have really great friends in this i stg

a/n: HOLY SHIT guys i seriously didn't expect all the love on until the chaos is through! i LOVE reading your thoughts about it. genuinely so many made me laugh so much.

i really hope that you enjoy part two. i got so many requests to be tagged that i couldn't get through them all, so i am sorry about that!

thank you all so much for the support! <3

Masterlist

Your days wasted away into the night after the Halloween party.

You teetered on a razor’s edge between wanting to run straight back to Eddie and wanting to never see him again.

Like today, when laying alone in your room only bought thoughts of missing him. When your covers still smelt like him, and the photos of the two of you stared blankly from their spots on your dresser and the walls and the bedside table, their wide smiles and bright eyes mocking you.

Everywhere you looked, there was Eddie, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave this little self-proclaimed bubble of ignorance.

Because if you didn’t think about it, it wasn’t real. Eddie was simply on his way over to hang out and spend the night like he used to, and everything was fine.

The night of the party, your friends had stayed with you until mid-morning. They took turns in comforting you as you spent hours sobbing on the couch, crying out against the unfairness of it all. About how stuff like this didn’t happen to people like you.

It didn’t happen to couples who loved each other.

Because you loved him.

And Eddie loved you.

But that affirmation you had been repeating to yourself for weeks held no weight now. It had been your lifeline in all those moments of doubt and insecurity, the one thing that you told yourself over and over and over, assuring you that you were wrong.

And yet, you had been right, despite all the lies you pretended were the truth.

You heard Steve’s car pull into your driveway.

You didn’t get up to let him in. He and the other’s had borrowed your spare key, taking turns in checking in on you after your refusal to leave your house for the third day in a row.

You stayed still, curled up beneath the covers, eyes closed as Steve opened your bedroom door.

“Hey,” he murmured, coming to sit on the edge of your bed.

You didn’t reply, just barely peeking your eyes open, but he didn’t look dejected, he just gave you a tight-lipped smile—one that reeked of pity.

Yesterday, it had been Nancy who came by. She had sat right where Steve was, that same sympathetic look on her face. You hadn’t wanted to talk then either.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, just loud enough for you to hear.

The tears burned the back of your eyes. “I’m fine,” you whispered, but your lip trembled, and Steve was quick to brush his hand over the side of your head.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” he told you, the same softness to his voice as before, as if he, too, was trying to protect the quiet bubble just as much as you were. That was what you told yourself, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “Talk to me.”

Your throat ached as you swallowed back a sob. You’d cried enough these past few days. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

His hand brushed over your head again. “About what?”

“About the love I have for him. I love him, Steve.” Just saying those words out loud had you weeping. “I love him so much and it still wasn’t enough.”

Steve’s hand rested on your shoulder, and he squeezed it just tight enough to make you look up at him. “Y/N, it would have been enough for anyone else. I don’t know why he did what he did, but I do know that it wasn’t because of you.”

“But if I—”

“No,” he cut you off, tone firm—firmer than anyone had been in days. “No. This isn’t on you. This is on him.”

The words should have comforted you. He meant them to be comforting, but they didn’t help. They only caused you to think about Eddie.

And it made you think of the fact that he hadn’t contacted you at all.

He hadn’t tried to call. He hadn’t come over. He hadn’t made any effort to try and talk to you.

Maybe you don’t mean enough to him, that tiny voice whispered. Maybe you weren’t enough for him to even bother to apologise. Maybe he doesn’t want to apologise.

You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the awful words that just kept tumbling and turning through your mind.

Steve removed his hand from your shoulder, and you instantly missed the comfort of it.

When you opened your eyes, they fell to him—to his hands—and you frowned.

“What is that?” you asked.

“What?”

You removed your arm from the warmth of your covers to take his hand in yours.

His knuckles were bruised, the middle two split, but they had healed enough to not need to be covered.

Steve tried to pull his hand away, but you held fast. “Steve?”

“I—uh,” He swallowed and looked to the wall, avoiding your eyes. “It’s from the party.”

Your brows furrowed. “You got into a fight?” You had been so focused on yourself that you hadn’t even realised he had been hurt at all, not at the party or over the past few days.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes not leaving your patterned wallpaper. “Sort of.”

You studied his side profile, the way his eyes darted around, his hesitancy to answer your questions.

Steve had been with Jonathan and Nancy most of the night at the party, if you remembered correctly. From the couch at the Roland’s, you had been able to see most of the first floor and you couldn’t recall him getting into a fight. If you had, you would have at least tried to stop him. That man did not need any more knocks to the head. It must have happened upstairs—

It hit you, and you shrunk back.

“Oh,” you said, and this time when he attempted to pull his hand away, you let him.

“I—yeah. Jonathan and I, we—” He cleared his throat, standing. “I should probably go. Do you need anything?”

Jonathan had been at the top of the stairs, but Steve…Steve hadn’t come out until after. Judging by his knuckles, now you knew why. You wondered if Jonathan had even tried to stop him.

You stared at him for a long moment before shaking your head. He rushed out a hurried good-bye, and then your door was pulled shut with barely more than a click.

School was the absolute last place you wanted to be.

The incident wasn’t common knowledge amongst your peers, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before they found out. Already, hushed whispers trailed you; some sympathetic, some not.

It was also the first time in over two years that you didn’t have Eddie by your side as you walked through the front doors. Even before you got together, you had been friends, and his presence right beside you had become a staple in your life that you never thought you’d lose.

But you had.

The worst part was lunch.

As you grabbed your tray, your eyes immediately went to the Hellfire table out of habit, and you stopped short when you realised that you couldn’t sit there anymore.

Eddie wasn’t there in his pride of place at the head of the table, thankfully, but Jeff’s eyes found you, confused as to why you weren’t coming over.

It became obvious that the rest of The Hellfire Club didn’t know.

As you stood there, you wondered if they had known about Eddie and Chrissy. Had they been aware of Eddie’s deals with her? Had you sat across from them every day being the only one in the dark? They were Eddie’s friends first; they didn’t owe you any loyalty. That belonged to their infallible Dungeon Master. Had they humoured you while Eddie snuck out to the—

An arm slipped through yours. “I hear that the band freaks and the school newspaper weirdos have way more fun than D&D nerds,” Robin whispered into your ear as she guided you towards a table at the back of the cafeteria.

You had never been more grateful.

She saw the beholden look on your face and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said softly, and then launched into a spiel about how she had a pop quiz this morning that she most definitely flopped.

Nancy was happy to see you, eyes lighting up as she moved her bag off the table to make a place for you opposite her. Robin dropped into the seat beside you. “Hello, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

You sent Nancy a shy smile. “Yeah,” you said, picking up your fork, “I was surprised, too.”

You had been thinking about skipping school today, and the rest of the week if you were honest, but you knew that it wasn’t going to make a difference about how you were feeling. Your bubble was nothing more than a delusion that you allowed yourself to believe in anyway.

“Well, either way, it’s good to see you here.”

Robin was quick to say, “And to have you sitting with us now. You have no idea the fun we have here.”

You raised a brow. “Oh really?”

“You bet,” she told you, taking a rather large bite out of her sandwich. “Us two? We’re living it up while you losers sit around whining about whatever it is you whine about all day.”

“You don’t have to sell it to me, Rob. I believe you.”

Around a mouthful of food, she said, “Look! You’re already laughing. Proof!”

True to her word, you were grinning wider than you had in nearly a week. Being by yourself for so long had only allowed you to stew in your own self-pity. Being here, with your friends who were trying so hard to help you?

That was worth braving the school corridors for.

Robin placed a hand on your arm. “Oh, did you hear about Lucas’s basketball game? He wasn’t benched—” She immediately cut herself off as her eyes flew to something—or someone—behind you.

You tensed, already not liking the way her eyes bulged as she beheld who stood there.

“Um, Y/N? Can I please talk to you?” Chrissy’s voice was quiet, so much so that you almost missed it as you turned to look at her.

She fiddled with the sleeves of her varsity cheer jacket, the one she always wore, the one you knew that she wore when she would see Eddie.

“W-What?” you managed.

She swallowed, eyes darting around at the stares that came with being the Queen of Hawkins High. “I—I would like to talk to you, please.” She pulled the sleeve of her jacket particularly hard, and it displaced the neckline of her shirt just enough to reveal a tiny patch of discoloured skin on her collarbone.

Your throat suddenly felt like it was closing up.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from that spot of skin. Had it been Eddie? Or had it been Jason? Had Jason known that his girlfriend slept with the freak he hated so much? You had never really liked Jason Carver, but right now, in this exact moment, there was no one else on earth who you understood more.

Both thoughts had bile rising as you tried to calm your racing heart. “I don’t want to talk to you, Chrissy.”

She looked down at you, a dumbstruck look on her face. “Why?”

Your jaw dropped open, and you knew that Robin and Nancy shared the same look. “Why—Why do I not want to talk to you?” you uttered. “Because you slept with my boyfriend, Chrissy.”

Her eyes widened, and she quickly glanced around at the surrounding tables.

As she did, that feeling that you had become so accustomed to whenever you saw her slowly morphed into disbelief.

Even now, she was worried about people finding out that she was the one who fucked the freak. Even as she stood beside the person who she had stolen him from, who she had a hand in betraying.

“Are you serious?”

“Please,” she murmured, “Can we speak outside?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told her, voice shaking.

“But—”

You dug your fingers into the side of the table.

You had no idea where all of this anger was coming from. For days, you hadn’t been able to feel anything except a swirling pool of heartbreak and numbness. And now, this rush of hostility coursed through you faster than you could stop it.

“—Chrissy,” Nancy interrupted. “You should go.”

Robin’s hand coming to rest on your forearm was the only thing keeping your grounded.

Chrissy eyed the growing number of stares that were on her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and your chair was sliding back in an instant as you stood.

She shrank back at the ferocity in your eyes, mouth dropping open as you leaned forward. “I don’t want your apologies,” you spat. “I want you to fuck off.” Robin and Nancy were standing, too, Robin’s hand a hairsbreadth from your arm as if to grab you at a moment’s notice.

Chrissy took a single step back. Then another. Her eyes didn’t leave you as she raced away from your table.

You stared after her, blood thrumming in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest.

But as soon as the adrenaline rush arrived, it deserted you, and that rage became humiliation as you noted all the eyes on you.

You slumped back into your seat.

Nancy sat wide-eyed across from you. “Are…Are you OK?” she asked, somewhere between shocked and…impressed?

“I honestly don’t know,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Your face burned, and you shook your head. At what, you didn’t know. Maybe at your actions. Maybe at Chrissy’s fucking ignorance.

“Well,” Robin said, brows raised as she looked between you and Nancy. “I think we can safely say our table hasn’t seen this much action in years.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I thought you said you had fun here?”

“I’m a liar.”

You knew that going to The Hideout for the first time since Halloween would be difficult, but you hadn’t expected it to be so hard.

You didn’t expect to see Eddie in everything.

He wasn’t actually there on the random Friday night that you, Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan decided to hang out, but you saw him on the stage.

You saw him leaning against the back wall, you standing snuggly against him, playing with his hair as you listened to the band on after Corroded Coffin.

You saw him sitting at the bar, peppering kisses along your jaw.

You saw him at the table by the window, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you coming back with drinks in hand.

The Hideout was a living, breathing reminder of everything you and Eddie had once been.

And you didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

“I just can’t believe it’s taking this long,” Jonathan shouted over the music, bringing your attention back to the group. He was rambling on about something to do with Chief Hopper and his mother, and to be honest, you were a little lost.

“Didn’t they go to high school together?” Steve asked. “They’ve known each other forever.”

“Exactly!” Jonathan exclaimed, surging forward enough to jolt Nancy who was perched under his arm. “It’s like, you’ve known each other for so long and you both know you like each other, so why are you just waiting around for something to happen?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but one of the bartenders appeared at the end of the table. Earl, you remembered, and from the way his face lit up, he remembered you, too.

“Y/N!” he called, and you waved politely. “I haven’t seen you here for ages! We missed you at Eddie’s set last week. I almost called you when he got so wasted he couldn’t walk, but he insisted he was fine. Stumbled out of here by himself with nothing but his wits. Stupid boy.”

Despite everything, a pang of worry shot through you. “Oh,” you said awkwardly, “I—yeah, Eddie and I aren’t really…” You trailed off, and Earl’s face fell a fraction.

“Ah, well, next round is on me,” he told you, and you sent him a grateful smile as he disappeared into the throng of people.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself, and Steve picked up on it, launching back into the conversation with Jonathan.

That seemed to be your general state of being now. Unsure.

You were unsure who you were without Eddie. You were unsure how you could go forward when a small part of you kept wanting to go back. Back to the man that you had made plans with for after graduation. The man who you had promised to be with forever; promised to build a life with outside of Hawkins in less than a few months.

Eddie still hadn’t tried to see you. He still hadn’t called, or come to your house, or even tried to accost you at school like Chrissy had.

Over the past two weeks, you hadn’t even seen him in the halls at school, or the cafeteria, despite his van being in the parking lot every day.

He simply disappeared from your life, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The lump in your throat made itself apparent, just like it always did. It practically lived within you now.

You slid out of the booth, shooting your friends a quick glance. “Bathroom,” you said quickly, before weaving past people you both recognised and didn’t. Most of the people you only knew because of Eddie.

The bathroom was empty. A small mercy, as you locked the door and sat on the lid of the toilet, head in your hands.

Coming here so soon was a mistake. It was too much.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, quietly savouring the pressure.

You didn’t belong here without Eddie.

You didn’t belong anywhere without Eddie.

No matter how much you tried to kid yourself, nothing felt right without him.

There was a knock on the door, but you ignored it.

You hadn’t ever even been to The Hideout without him. It was his place, and you just tagged along, ringing in the perks of being with the band. Which weren’t many except maybe a few free drinks here and there.

But to everyone you met there, you were Eddie’s.

And now you weren’t.

And that hurt so much.

Someone knocked again, and this time you shouted, “Give me a minute!”

The person on the other side was silent, and you rubbed at your eyes, patterns playing behind your eyelids in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes.

It was comforting, somehow.

The door clicked open, and your head shot up to see Nancy standing there, hair pin in hand. “Sorry,” she said, looking only slightly guilty. “I wanted to check on you. I was worried.”

You scoffed. “What if I was peeing?”

She shut the door. “Then we would have known each other a lot more intimately than we did ten seconds before now.” She eyed you up and down, eyes not missing a thing. She was so perceptive that it was almost scary. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

“We can go, you know? We don’t have to stay if it’s making you upset.”

“I—I want to. I just—” You waved your hands around. “—It doesn’t feel right. Without him. Nothing does.”

Nancy gave you one of her closed mouth smiles. “I know it feels that way now, but it will get better. I promise.” She knelt before you, hands on your knees as she leaned down to catch your eye. “What he did, you can’t go back, no matter how much you want to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How long will it take?” You felt like a child asking questions that didn’t have an answer.

Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know that a week ago, this would have sent you spiralling. And now, you’re not even crying.” You blinked, feeling for the first time that your eyes were dry. She smiled. “Time, honey. You just need time.”

“Why are we here again?” you grumbled to Jonathan as you both got out of his car on the main street.

“Because one: I need help carrying all this to the car, and two: I also need help putting it together,” he told you.

“And why am I tasked in helping you put your brother’s Christmas present together? It’s still months away.”

Jonathan sighed, all mock disappointment. “Well, you weren’t my first choice, but everyone else is busy.”

You jabbed your finger into his arm. “That’s mean, you know that?”

“Maybe if you stopped complaining so much, we’d already be done,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

The main street wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be on a Saturday mid-afternoon.

People still meandered up and down the street, but most were on a mission, like you and Jonathan.

Jonathan hadn’t even explained exactly what it was that you were picking up and putting together. You just knew that he was really excited about giving it to Will. And you could hardly say no to him when it was practically saying no to sweet, little Will.

“Don’t forget we have to pick Lucas and Max up from the arcade on the way back,” you reminded him.

“Why do we have to do that again?”

“Because you recruited me and I already said yes to them, so we have to combine plans.” You side stepped a large group of elderly women who pushed straight through the middle of you two. Jonathan kept walking and was a few metres ahead by the time the group of ladies finished filing past.

You stepped off to follow after him when your name was called from across the street.

Looking up, you froze as Eddie came rushing across the street towards you.

It was as if every single thought you’d ever had emptied from your mind as he came to a stop a few feet from you.

His hair was just as messy as it always was, and you noted the faded bruise on his cheekbone. You didn’t have to guess where that had come from, and the bags under his eyes were much more prominent than they normally were.

Seeing him now, your stomach churned with so many different emotions that you weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

He was a little out of breath as he said, “Can I talk to you? Please?” His dark eyes were pleading, and you fought against the urge to instantly cave, just like you always did when he shot you his puppy dog eyes.

“I—”

You were cut off when Jonathan suddenly appeared beside you. He looked beyond angry; his brows creased, and his top lip pulled back. “I thought we told you to keep your distance, Munson,” he ground out.

Eddie looked surprised to see him. He obviously thought you’d been alone. “I just want to talk, man. Please. I’ve stayed away, but I need to talk to you.” He directed the last bit at you. “Please.”

You didn’t think that you’d heard him say please so much in his life. He was practically begging.

“What do you want to say?” you asked timidly. Eddie glanced between you and Jonathan. “It’s fine, Jonathan. Just give me a minute?”

He looked unsure, but eventually conceded, shooting Eddie a dirty look as he made his way up the street just enough to give you some privacy. You had known him long enough to know that he was still within hearing distance.

“What did you want to talk about?”

When Eddie’s eyes finally found yours again, they looked pained. “I…I wanted to talk about us.”

“There is no us, Eddie.”

“I know. I know that. But I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea how hard these past few weeks have been for me. Staying away from you—”

“How hard they’ve been for you?” You laughed, right in his face. “How do you think they’ve been for me? You didn’t even try and see me.”

“Steve and Jonathan told me not to. They said—”

“I don’t give a shit what Steve and Jonathan said. You cheated on me and then just abandoned me.” Your voice wavered, and you hated that Eddie caught it.

He tried to reach for you, but you stepped back and pulled your hand away. His eyes flashed with hurt, and you squashed the part of you that felt bad. “And I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It was a mistake.”

You closed your eyes for a second, hating the way your pet name rolled off his tongue. The pet name that he hadn’t used in the weeks before Halloween. It had become non-existent once he started seeing Chrissy.

“How many times?” you asked suddenly.

He looked confused. “What?”

“How many times, Eddie?” you repeated. You didn’t want to say the words out loud.

Understanding your meaning, his eyes found the ground. He was silent for a long moment. “Six,” he mumbled.

You choked. “Six?” You took another step back.

“It—Y/N, wait—”

“—Six times you slept with her and then came home to me?”

You weren’t even sure why you were entertaining this conversation. You knew that it was only going to end up with you hurting more than you already were.

“No, I never saw you on those days,” he confessed.

You stared at him. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

His eyes widened, and he rushed out, “No, no. I’m just trying to explain.”

The melancholic agony that you’d been stuck in for weeks was suddenly sharpening. The razor’s thin edge became no longer wanting or not wanting, it became anger and rage. “There is nothing you could possibly explain to make this better.”

His voice became pleading, and he stepped towards you as if you were going to suddenly disappear. “Please, baby, it was a mistake. Chrissy—she’s not you. I want you. I need you—”

Your fist was flying before you could stop it, and you only registered what you had done when your knuckles stung.

Eddie reeled back, and you stared wide-eyed at him. His hand went to his face, holding the spot between his cheekbone and his nose.

He opened and closed his mouth.

“I loved you, Eddie,” you uttered, clutching your fist in your other hand. “I gave you everything, and it still wasn’t enough for you. I needed my boyfriend to love me enough to not sleep with other people.”

Jonathan was suddenly standing beside you.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” you spat as Jonathan took your arm. “I don’t need you anymore.”

If Eddie was going to say something, you didn’t find out, because Jonathan was pulling you up the street past the onlookers who were gawking at both you and Eddie.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“No,” you muttered, and you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or just pure mania, but you started to laugh. “That really fucking hurt. I think I broke my hand.”

Pulling the door open to Family Video an hour before closing, you were pleased to see it was empty aside from the man you were looking for.

“Harrington,” you called as the door shut behind you, “I need a movie recommendation.”

Looking up from where he was leaned against the counter flicking though a magazine, Steve seemed both surprised and happy to see you. “You’ve come to the right place,” he declared, standing up. “We have movies galore. What are you looking for?”

You grinned as you reached the counter. “Something funny, but also a little sad, with a killer soundtrack.”

He pretended to ponder for a moment. “Sounds an awful lot like your favourite movie,” he pronounced.

“Someone has to keep this place afloat. Why not me and my little favourites?”

Steve rolled his eyes playfully. “Where would we be without you?” he joked, pulling a tape from beneath the counter and setting it in front of you.

You raised a brow. “You had it sitting back there already?”

He shrugged. “Had a hunch.”

Reaching for the cash in your pocket, you hissed when your knuckles caught the lip of the pocket. Steve noticed, and his eyes shot to your hand.

“I heard you socked Munson in the face today,” he remarked, and you couldn’t quite tell the tone he used.

“Yeah,” you said sheepishly, placing the money on the counter.

He held out his hand, wagging his fingers. “Let me see.”

Gingerly, you placed your hand in his own, watching as he studied your knuckles. Unlike his, the skin of your knuckles was still intact, but they were slowly starting to bruise.

And they hurt like hell. You didn’t know how people did it over and over again. Just one mediocre punch and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to hold a pencil for a week.

“We match,” you observed, and he shot you a disapproving look.

“Not really something I wanted to match you for.” He brushed his thumb over them, and you winced. “You’re lucky it’s not broken.”

“Jonathan already gave me that spiel,” you muttered. He had seriously ripped into you on the drive from the main street. Not only had you ruined his plans for the day and still forced him to pick up Lucas and Max, but he then had to take you to the hospital which he was less than impressed with.

The verdict had been bruised knuckles and not a break, but the doctor had advised you to lay off punching people in the face in the future.

Still looking at your hand, Steve started chuckling and you narrowed your eyes. “What?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you punched him in the main street.”

“He’s the one who came at me. If anything, he chose the location,” you tried to justify.

Steve smiled. “I’m proud of you,” he said after a second. “I know it was hard for you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. “Thank you, Stevie.”

And you really meant it.

You had no doubt that if it weren’t for the support of your friends, you wouldn’t be where you were. If it weren’t for them, you might never have known about Eddie and Chrissy.

And as much as you had been confused and upset about not seeing Eddie in the last few weeks, Steve’s threats about giving you space were the best thing that could have happened. Because you would have gone back to him if he showed up on your doorstep. You would have continued to bleed yourself dry for him over and over again.

Steve tapped your fingers, and you looked back at him.

Like Nancy said, it would still take some time.

But you were all right with that.

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #stranger things angst #steve harrington x reader #outerspacebisexual

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fruitsoxs · 3 months

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New Year's Kiss

pairing(s); Gale x (GN)reader summary; You somehow end up kissing your rival at midnight OR you seriously misinterpret the vibes Gale is giving off (modern au) warning(s); reader is a dumbass, they are so bad at understanding social ques, Gale can't flirt, this is mostly fluff wordcount; 1.8k notes; this was beta read by both @linklebard and my partner! i couldn't have done it with out them <;33

You never really liked parties. They were often too loud and too crowded. You hate being forced to socialize with other people. You’re definitely an introvert, and when given the choice would rather stay at home. You especially hate work parties though. Not only do you have to talk to people, but these people are your peers. Your educated, rude peers that have an “I’m better than you” outlook on life. The hardest part about work parties? You can’t escape them. Unless you are on your deathbed, you HAVE to attend. It’s an anxiety fueled nightmare

That is exactly how you ended up at your university’s New Year’s party.

You grip the champagne glass with so much vigor that it may just explode in your hands. People around you are talking, creating a sea of noise which threatens to drown you. Face a little pale, you slowly raise the drink up to your lips and sip. The liquid does little to help you unwind, but it serves as your life vest on this treacherous adventure. Without it in your hands you’d just be standing there awkwardly amongst your peers.

The party is being held in the Performing Arts center, in a large room adorned with gold decorations and giant pillars. In the center there is a live band playing. A jazz band whose music should be relaxing, but in this environment it only adds to the stress. Many people are dressed in their finest clothing, showing off their expensive brands. You opted for something a little more simple, but elegant nonetheless. You’ve done your best to look presentable, but you can’t deny the fact you struggled to force yourself off your computer for this event. Despite it being winter break, you’re working relentlessly to put together a research paper that will HAVE to pull in grants.

You’d much rather be putting all of your energy into that than standing here awkwardly at the party. You need to work hard in order to draw in the attention of benefactors, especially with that certain someone who always seems to be fighting with you for the same grants. It wouldn't be such an issue if the man didn’t beat you almost every time. It was only recently that you lost against him after presenting what you thought was your best work. It didn’t even seem to be a fight in the end, his project was chosen without a second thought. You worked your ass off day and night to perfect every inch of that proposal, and in the end you were left with nothing.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” A voice rings out beside you, pulling you from your solitude. When you look over you are met with the big brown eyes of the coworker you were just thinking about. Gale Dekarios, the most annoyingly smart person you know. The one who you are constantly butting heads with, and the person you can safely say you hate the most. The worst part about him? He always seems to be correct in a way you can’t refute. He’s wickedly smart, with looks that match. You don’t think there’s a single soul who would describe him as anything but handsome. It’s utterly unfair. Despite your harsh feelings for the man, he always seems to worm his way into your thoughts

“I think you may have misread the email then, Professor Dekarios. The word required was used more than a couple of times.” You answer, crossing your free arm over the one holding your drink. You would know, you were the one in charge of sending out that email. He lets out a soft chuckle and nods. “I happen to thoroughly read every email I get, especially the ones I get from you. I just figured you’d skip out on the festivities seeing as the word “required” doesn’t always guarantee your attendance, Professor.” He points out, taking a sip of his own drink.

While he’s not wrong, you don’t appreciate the way he says it. Everything sounds so sassy coming from his mouth. It feels like a slight on your attendance to these ordeals, or like he’s comparing himself to you. There’s no doubt in your mind that he shows up to every single one of these events. They seem like something he would enjoy. You, on the other hand, do like to skip out on parties, even when they are technically required to go to. The reason behind you playing hooky though, is the man in front of you. He’s always somehow one upping you, making it so you have to work extra hard to earn any amount of attention. And while you could earn that attention by attending these parties, and schmoozing up to the department leaders, you’d much rather gain attention by doing good work. Besides, you’ve never been all that great at networking.

“I do value my job, you know.” you snap, clearly angered by what he said. It is all his fault after all. If he wasn’t so goddamn competent at his job, you might be able to relax every once in a while.

He doesn’t seem phased by your anger, simply nods along. “Ah yes, and how lucky are we to have you here. One of the finest Historians I know.”

‘But never the best’ You think bitterly, sipping your champagne again. You find yourself thinking back to those late nights, scrolling through Rate My Professor to compare your scores. Despite your best effort, he always seems to have the most positive reviews. The students love him, the faculty love him. It seems he will always be better than you, no matter what he is doing.

You intend to end the conversation there, but it seems Gale has other plans. Always the sociable one, he opens his mouth again. “It does seem like you’ve been much more engrossed in your work lately. Planning anything big?” he asks, genuinely curious about your work. However, you have never been good at social cues. Thinking he’s making fun of you, you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Professor” you snap.

He always seems to be trying to gawk at your work. For what? You aren’t sure. Every chance he gets he’s asking what your most recent project is. Sometimes he even asks to view your lesson plans for classes, which always pisses you off. What right does he have inserting himself into your work? Not only that, but what intentions does he have? There’s no way he’s trying to help you, right?

He holds his hands up in feign surrender. “Alright, No need to get snappy. I'm just curious. Who would I be if I was not interested in my colleague’s work?” he asks, offering you a smile.

You really have no idea what to make of this guy. You’ve always hated conversing with him, because it genuinely feels like he has some secret motive behind his kind words and smiles. He has to be making fun of you for something. There is no other explanation. At least not in your mind. Still, maybe you are being too harsh. You let your glare fall, and give him a small nod. You shift your eye over to the clock. Only five minutes to midnight, which means it’s almost time for you to go home.

Your eyes go back to Gale, who is still by your side sipping his drink happily. Why is he still next to you? Doesn’t he have some other poor soul to chat to? You open your mouth to voice this, but he cuts you off by clearing his throat.

“The music is rather lovely today, is it not?” he asks you, avoiding eye contact as if he’s nervous.

What? Why is he talking to you about the music? You seriously don’t understand this man’s intentions with you at all. Is he trying to get you to lower your guard so he can learn all your secrets? No…he’s much too smart to need to do that. He goes above and beyond, relying purely on his brain alone. He would never commit messy tricks to get what he wants. You arch an eyebrow at him, and look over at the band. They’re playing a pleasant tune.

“I guess.” you mumble.

“And the decorations are nice!”

“It’s a little cheesy.”

“Perhaps, but cheesy isn’t always bad.”

You take another sip of your drink, realizing it’s growing quite empty. Well, It’s only three minutes until midnight, You can survive with what you have. You start to get comfortable with the silence, before Gale starts to speak again. “You know we are probably the smartest people in our department. How would you-” You cut him off this time, utterly confused as to why he’s STILL talking to you. “Don’t you have someone else you’d like to talk to?” you ask with complete sincerity. He seems a little taken aback by your question, his smile disappearing for a small second. Within a few moments it’s back on his face though. “No. I actually quite enjoy talking to you.”

Two minutes until midnight.

You’re stunned. What does he mean? You feel your cheeks heat up despite yourself. You clutch onto your drink a little more intensely. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I enjoy talking to you. You are great company and I-” he cuts himself off.

One minute.

“You?”

He clears his throat, his face turning a bit pink. He then turns to you, taking a deep breath. You expect him to say something, but this time he’s quiet. He just waits for a moment. Once the clock strikes midnight, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him. He does it slowly, giving you time to move away if you want. You find yourself wanting whatever he is doing though, a flame lighting up inside you. Carefully his lips meet yours, and the room disappears.

The kiss only lasts for a moment, but you can feel the fireworks light up inside you.

“I quite like you.” he admits after pulling away, his face inches from yours. Unsure how to respond, you reach up and kiss him again. This time the kiss lasts a few seconds longer. His lips are warm, a little dry, but so pleasant against yours. When you pull away, he’s smiling again. “I’ll take it, you feel the same?” he asks.

You nod shyly.

“Good. Now, might I propose something that I meant to ask earlier? Would you be willing to do a joint proposal with me?”

How could you possibly say anything but yes?

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #gale dekarios x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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artificial-transmutations · 7 months

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Perfectly Normal

Devon wasn't a homophobe, really. He was, and he was pretty sure about that, just a normal guy. Not "cis" or "straight" - those were completely unnecessary new words to describe what had a perfectly fine word since ages: normal.

He was a normal man who lived a normal live, had his normal share of girlfriends over the years, had a normal job as a baker and was overall just normal. Even when describing his body, he would use the word: Normal build, not too big or too small, with brown hair in a normal haircut. He wore normal street clothes and voted in the normal, conservative way.

Devon was even, according to himself at least, very tolerant of other ways of life. Sure, he would cast the normal odd look when someone told him that he or she voted for some progressive, liberal or green party, and sure, he was strictly against any of those new woke things, but for example, Devon didn't care if someone was gay.

At least, if those fairies didn't bother him. If they just kept their abnormal fetishes in their bedrooms, everything was fine. Where Devon drew the line, however, was when those people went out of their way to let everyone - Devon included - know of their weird preferences. Those "pride" parades, for example, or when two men had to kiss in public. Or hold hands. Devon wasn't opposed to gay marriage, too, as long as they didn't marry each other. No, marriage was between a man and a woman, and sure, Devon didn't see why gay men shouldn't marry women. Everything else was out of the question, of course, and Devon didn't get why people were branded as homophobic who said such things. It was just a fact: Marriage between two men was not normal.

Devon, however, was a tolerant person. He would allow the gays to exist, even though they were gross. Just keep their distance, and Devon wouldn't have any problems with them.

Everything changed, however, when Devon's best friend, Marcus one day came out to him as gay. At first, Devon was taken aback.

"Why?", he asked, and Marcus replied, "Because I love men. I'm in love with a man."

"No", Devon replied, "I meant why did you have to tell me? This isn't normal, Marcus! Why couldn't you keep your perverse preferences in the bedroom?" Devon tried to keep calm but couldn't help feeling somehow betrayed and disgusted by his childhood friend all of a sudden.

"Devon, I didn't choose to be gay. I don't get how it's not normal. Love is normal, and I'm in love with a man. That's not... not normal. Perhaps you should update what you think is normal sometimes; it's 2023, not 1973."

With that, Marcus left, agitated himself, Devon to his brooding.

This was just unfair. Why did Marcus have to be that way? It wasn't a problem until he said it. Of course, Devon had read the 'argument' of what was normal and what wasn't before, in numerous online discussions that he had been part of, but to hear it from his best friend - former best friend? - made him think. However, regardless of how he shifted the thought around in his head, Devon was unable to come to a different conclusion: Something like that, men sleeping with men, was not - could not be - normal. There was just no way, he could ever see something like that as normal.

Of course, that meant that Devon would have to re-think his friendship with Marcus, a fact that hurt him a lot.

"God, I wish he would just be normal!", he exclaimed to no one in particular. Little did Devon know that a mischievous sprite had been listening in and decided to grant his wish - although not in a way he would expect.

As some hours passed, Devon calmed down more and more. What was he getting so upset about, after all? Perhaps Marcus had been right. It was 2023, and the definition of what was normal was perhaps a bit different from what he was used to. There was certainly no reason to end his friendship with Marcus over that. Devon was straight and... Marcus was gay. That was it. Perfectly normal. It wasn't Devon's cup of tea, but, hey, it didn't have to.

Devon felt really good with that insight. So good in fact that he decided to close the bakery sooner today and grab a bit of coffee in the shop across the street.

He usually avoided the place since he had the strong suspicion that the barista was one of those homos, but suddenly, that didn't matter anymore. It was normal, wasn't it?

So, Devon ordered his coffee and when the barista handed it to him, he said:

"Here you go Sir! Might I add that you look very handsome today?"

Devon felt flattered! Sure, he wasn't gay, but being complemented always felt nice. He smiled brightly and replied: "Thanks!"

"No, seriously, you should think about wearing something more form-fitting. It would suit you well, I think. Perhaps some tank tops to bring out the guns?"

Devon looked down on himself. Yes, he could very well imagine wearing those! His arms were nice and strong from the hard work in the bakery and the colorful tank tops he wore brought that out handsomely. It was sometimes a bit cold in the winter, but since it was always warm in the bakery, those were pretty much his standard attire.

"Yeah, right? I love tank tops!" The barista looked at him as if he had seen a ghost or something, but quickly regained his composure.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Sir." After a short pause, he added: "Would you... mind if I touch them? Your arms, I mean, they're just so strong."

Now, Devon wasn't gay, but he couldn't see anything wrong with that request. A bit of friendly feeling up was perfectly normal, after all, so he just nodded. He was the only customer in the shop, so the barista came over and groped his arms.

"Amazing!" he muttered, and Devon wasn't entirely sure if he was still referring to his arms.

"Do you mind?" the Barista asked, but before Devon could nod again, his hands were already exploring Devon's manly chest that was only clad in the thin fabric of the tank top. After a few more moments, the barista's hands went under his shirt and felt up Devon's abs and chest, with his fingers running through the forest of hair there. This time, he didn't ask for permission, but why would he? This was a perfectly normal thing to do, at least to Devon!

When Devon noticed that the barista wanted to pull off his tank top, he helped him by holding his arms up before continuing to sip on his coffee. It was fairly obvious that the barista sported an erection in his jeans - good for him, Devon thought.

"You know", croaked the barista, "perhaps you should try something more... dangerous than a jeans. A pair of shorts would really work wonders with your ass and your... bulge."

Devon almost laughed out loud. What was that guy thinking?! It was not like he wore any other clothes. Colorful tiny shorts, with tank tops - that was all the cloth he wanted to wear. Not even socks, if he didn't have to. And the tops were optional as well - sometimes, Devon wore only stringy mesh tanks - or none at all. That was normal for him!

Devon jumped a little as the barista pinched his exposed nipples, the ones with the piercings. It was okay, of course, normal even, that's why he had nipples. It just came as a surprise. "Sorry, I flinched." he smiled at the other guy.

The barista didn't reply, he was busy pawing Devon's ass and cock through the shorts with both hands. Devon wasn't gay, but it was good to see the barista was enjoying himself. Apparently, the other man's cock twitched and pulsed within the confines of his pants.

Devon took another gulp out of his coffee and nodded towards the other man's crotch. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself." Devon repeated the words from his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that." The barista said and went red instantly.

"No, no, nothing to be sorry about. That's perfectly normal, you're a guy after all." Devon said.

"Yeah..." the barista said, hesitated shortly before asking:

"Would you mind giving me a blowjob?"

What a ridiculous question. Devon was certainly not gay. However, giving other men a blowjob was just common curtesy, especially if they asked this nicely.

"Sure, no problem." He said. He took another gulp of coffee and set the cup aside before getting down on his knees. The other guy had opened his pants by now, and Devon took his hard cock in hand and began rubbing it. He knew how he wanted girls to blow himself, so even though he had never done it before, it was fairly easy for him to do it right.

The barista moaned out loudly.

"Damn, that's good! How are you so good at this?!"

Devon gave him an answer, even though it was a little difficult while his mouth was stuffed with cock:

"I don't know - it's normal, isn't it?"

"It sure is!" the barista replied and pushed his dick all the way into Devon's throat.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum! You're making me cum!"

A moment later, the barista shot a load of hot sperm into Devon's throat. Devon wasn't sure what to do with it but decided to swallow and drink it down with the rest of his coffee.

"Thank you!" he referred to the coffee and the gratis cum shot with it, of course.

"No... problem." the barista was still out of breath. "See you again tomorrow evening?"

Devon just nodded. That's what he was doing normally, right? As he exited the coffee shop in his colorful and skimpy clothes, he glanced at his clock. He really needed to hurry now if he didn't want to be late to service Marcus and his boyfriend. Of course, Devon himself wasn't gay, but this was just... normal for him.

#male transformation #mental transformation

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silverskye13 · 1 year

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So, the thing about being damseled, Welsknight is rapidly realizing, is you don't really have to be a damsel to do it. Or have it done to you, that is. Being damseled isn't really a gender thing, like all the old knights tales would have him believe. He doesn't have to have long blonde hair, or a princess dress. He doesn't have to make deals with obscure fae gods or spirits, doesn't have to know how to weave golden thread. Heck, he doesn't even have to be locked in a tower. Damseling -- that is, the state of being a damsel in distress -- is a much broader scoped state of being. It's not so much a trope or a role, and more of... An essence. A vibe. If one can be trapped and helpless and in need of a knight in shining armor to save the day, one can in fact be damseled just fine without any of the key fairytale hallmarks.

How does Welsknight know all this? Well, because he's managed to damsel himself, of course.

Welsknight is trapped. He should have known better. Well? Should he have known better? Eh. Even if he should have, he definitely shouldn't have expected to. He's new to Vault Hunting.

Iskall and Stress made it sound so easy. Yeah! Just go find a vault, gear up, don't be afraid to run for your life. Nothing can go wrong if you're careful. Beware the curses and traps and tripwires. Don't eat anything growing on the walls. Fight. Survive. Win! They do it all the time, with their adventuring teams and alone. Whatever suits their fancy. Just don't anger the gods and do run screaming if something way beyond your skill level wanders into the room. Cowardice? Nonsense! Vaults aren't duels, they're thrills. Thrills that sometimes glean cool treasure, and treasure, while awesome, can't challenge your honor and isn't worth your life. So go, kill some monsters, have fun, run when you need to. It's low-high stakes, choose your own adventuring at its finest!

And Wels is a knight errant, alright? He's slain dragons. And withers. And, yes, rescued a few damsels. He's good at what he does. So when he and Iskall went for some drinks at a local tavern, and Welsknight whined that he was getting bored of escorting mining parties and killing oversized lizards for neglectful nobles, well, Iskall had smiled and pointed him to the Vaultlands. And Welsknight, bored and stupid in his boredom, had decided raiding vaults was a great idea.

"If I get out of this," Welsknight vows in his most solemn, oath-binding knight's voice, "I am going to punch Iskall right in his grinning, stupid face."

He is barricading a door with anything he can find, all while the screams and shrieks of some persistent undead challenge his fervor from the other side. The undead here are different than they are outside the Vaults. The slow, lumbering, hollow things that amble blindly around deep caves and unstable mines don't hold a candle to these creatures. These are malevolent undead, things that seem to hate Welsknight personally, inhabited by the dreams of sleeping gods that were, probably, sealed in these Vaults for a freaking reason. He's pretty sure one of them is jibbering with the voice of his dead brother, which is, honestly, demonic scales of unfairness. And he would know demonic unfairness. Welsknight has fought exactly one demon, and while he certainly isn't an expert, he knows more about how much they cheat and torment than he had ever wanted to know. And anyway, how is he supposed to kill that kind of malevolence in the undead? He's not! For heaven's sake, he's faced fae with less personal malevolence, and the fae court is the most petty place on earth!

Welsknight kicks his barricade with an armored boot, making sure it'll hold. The stack of pilfered detritus shakes but stands firm. Somewhere in that lot is his broken sword, barring the door shut. The blade shattered in four pieces when he was tackled by some wight-creature, not because the creature was that strong, but because he'd just used it to fight some sort of corrosive slime, and really, the fact that living acid slime exists in the Vaults is unfair, and something Iskall really should've warned him about. At least it hadn't gotten on his armor.

Welsknight backs away from the barred door, listening to the angry screams of what lay beyond it. There's a lot of name-calling going on. "Come to your death, coward!" And "Brother please! Help me! Don't let it take me!" And "Sleep with us forever knight! Aren't you tired?" Screech and groan through the air as though the door and barricade aren't there to muffle it. There's hysterical cackling as well, which is kind of typical. He can't tell if the loudness of the noise is supernatural, or if it means there's another entrance to the room he hasn't noticed yet. As unsettling as the supernatural option is, he kind of prefers that right now. Weaponless and exhausted, he's not sure how well he'll manage if the undead just start pouring in from a side door somewhere.

Welsknight blinks, and belatedly realizes he's blinking back tears. His hands shake as he wipes them away. Yeah, okay, maybe the screaming-with-the-voice-of-his-dead-brother thing was getting to him more than he thought it would. He's a knight, not an iron golem. He still has feelings. He tries to be detached and gentle about it. He knows what fear is. The first time he fought a dragon, he cried. He cried a lot, actually. After it was dead he lay on the ground sobbing for a good hour, which had been terribly inconvenient at the time, since it had broken one of his ribs. Terror kind of just, does that to him -- makes him cry. He learned a long time ago not to be ashamed of it, no matter how badly timed it could be.

"Right," Welsknight croaks into the room around him. "Cry about it later. Escape now."

It's not a big room that he's trapped himself in. It has the trappings of an ancient hall, with some newness to it, indicating he isn't the first adventurer to stumble in here. Rotting boxes and chests are tumbled against a collapsed wall, the smell of damp rot wafting off them. One has candles and two plates on it, someone's makeshift dining set up, and there's the scorched remains of a campfire. It looks pathetic compared to the massive columns and reliefs it sits beneath. Maybe this place was a temple? It sure seems kind of temple-y, but Welsknight has yet to encounter an altar to any Vault Gods -- which is probably good. Iskall had mentioned those were guarded by scary creatures, and if "malevolent undead who steal the voices of your loved ones from your memories to torment you while they devour your flesh" hadn't registered on Iskall's "scary creatures to warn Wels about" index, he really, really doesn't want to know what insane creatures might guard the altar chambers of the Vault Gods.

"Probably like, undulating tentacle demons with acid breath," Welsknight mutters out loud as he meanders the chamber, searching for something useful. "Or maybe the Gods themselves just come down and use you as a hackey sack until you prove your worth or die. That sounds about right."

The cold stone walls make no comment, which is probably for the best, since given current trends, they would probably talk back with the voice of his disapproving parents, or maybe the old knight he'd been squired to, which would really start straining his already stressed out psyche right about now.

He can still hear his brother's voice calling to him through the door.

For as impressive as the room is, there really isn't much in here of use. The boxes from the old expedition have let the moisture in the room in. There's old, indecipherable food inside that is now mostly black sludge. The candles might be useful if he had anything resembling a tinderbox to light them with. Everything else in here is far older, and mostly carved stone too heavy to pilfer. This place has obviously been picked over before. No relics are on the walls. The one chest he finds that is (probably) older than the boxes contains only a single glorious cobweb as a prize. Welsknight has just about submitted to his fate to die in obscurity in a random Vault somewhere, when he encounters a corpse. It is not reanimated dead, though he does give it a few good kicks to make sure it doesn't feel like crawling to life and talking with ominous voices.

"Well, at least the ambient necromancy going on in here has limits," Welsknight sighs, squatting down on the balls of his feet to pick the corpse over. "Well, friend, I don't suppose you've got anything helpful on you?"

Their chainmail is rusted, their features, save for a few whisps of black-brown hair, are decayed away. He manages to find a coin purse with some woefully old looking coins -- so the chances of some other adventuring party stumbling to his rescue are quite small then. He picks up a shield from them that, though dry rotted, looks like it could block one or two more hits before giving up the ghost. On their back is a scabbard so rusted, it looks like the sword might be fused inside. Welsknight grimaces, then shrugs and concedes that even a brittle sword is better than none. Still, it doesn't make prying the sword belt off the old bones any more pleasant. There's a lot of brittle cracking, and a lot of wincing on Welsknight's part, before he finally manages to get it free.

"Sorry friend, but I think I need this a little more than you do."

The skull rocks a bit on the floor as it settles, but otherwise doesn't seem to care. The sockets aren't even facing his direction. Welsknight takes that as his sign that he isn't horribly cursed... Or at least no more so than when he first got trapped in here. Welsknight rubs at the blade, trying to see how much of the rust is superficial. A bit chips off beneath his fingernail, revealing bright silver beneath.

"A silver scabbard?" Welsknight raised his eyebrows at the corpse, "Well, weren't you a glamorous fellow?"

Welsknight grimaces and, taking ahold of the hilt, draws the sword. It pulls a lot easier than he thought it would. The rust holds it for a moment, and then smoothly releases, revealing bright steel underneath. The sword unsheathes with a ringing hiss.

"--ON'T SHEATH THE SWORD YOU IDIOT!"

The scream is right by his ear. Welsknight lets out a startled yelp and turns to face the voice, tripping over his feet and landing in an inglorious heap on the floor.

Standing in front of him is a knight garbed in black armor, a fiery plume rippling from his helm. His back is facing Welsknight, and he stands with his shoulders hunched, one arm reaching forward like he's trying to stop someone. The knight takes a step back, surprised, then rocks on his heels.

"Oh." He says, then looks down at the skeleton by his feet. "Oh."

He stares at the skeleton for a long moment, shrugs, and then gives the skull a hard kick, sending it clattering off across the room. "Serves you right, you asshole!"

Welsknight is crying again. He can't help it. He's scared and overwhelmed, and this knight is so, so terribly familiar. From the armor to the way he stands, to his voice. And when the knight turns to face him finally, the face is familiar too.

"Hels?" Welsknight whispers.

Helsknight, his definitely-dead brother, looks down at him with uncomprehending eyes. Then he scowls, "Nope. Sorry."

"I-- but--"

"I am the Spirit of the Sword," Helsknight cuts him off, rolling his eyes petulantly. "I serve the wielder of my blade, loyal in death, as I wasn't in -- blablabla. I take the form of the protector, the guardian, the comforting, and yes, I'm used to the whole "oh you look just like my dead loved one" thing. So let's skip the unnecessary angst, okay?"

A particularly loud shriek from the ghouls outside echoes shrilly through the room before Welsknight can even attempt to gather his response. Helsknight spins to face the barred door and takes a threatening step towards it.

"Oh would you SHUT UP? We're in the middle of something!"

The sounds behind the door fall abruptly silent. Welsknight stares in bafflement, feeling just confused enough to stop crying. The Spirit Of The Sword That Looks Just Like His Dead Brother offers a hand to him.

"Come on, get up." He says as he pulls Welsknight to his feet roughly, and then gives him a long, appraising look. "Well, you look like you might know how to swing my sword, so there's something at least."

"I'm-- I'm a knight errant," Welsknight tells him, trying to recover some of his senses. "What-- are you another trick of this terrible place?" Anger starts to bubble underneath everything else he's feeling, and his fists clench. "I'm tired of the stupid mind games and the trickery, and everything screaming like Hels and---!"

Helsknight holds up his hands, looking something between annoyed and appeasing. "Aye, yes, I understand. My last wielder did die in this Vault. No I'm not a demon, or an evil spirit -- unless you intend to use my sword for evil, in which case, I'm evil by proxy." Helsknight ushered to himself. "The enchantment in the blade turns me into something you're familiar with. Whoever I am, I don't have his memories or his mannerisms--" his lip curls in something like disgust as he adjusts his breastplate, "--or his taste in armor. Really, what's wrong with some nice high mobility chainmail? Or leather? Leather is amazing! It's quiet and doesn't feel like I'm carrying a whole damn armory around."

Welsknight screwed his eyes shut and breathed. Alright. Alright. He's okay. He can deal with this. He can-- well at least he can ignore the specter of his brother following him around for as long as it takes to get out of this Vault. But when he gets out ohhh, oh Iskall owes him six pints at the nearest tavern and a damn good explanation.

"Sword Spirit," Welsknight asks after another set of calming breaths, "can you fight?"

Helsknight looks down at his hip where a sword is sheathed. He draws it, tests its weight and shrugs. "I'd be a poor sword spirit if I couldn't."

"Alright then," Welsknight picks up the magical sword from where he'd dropped it and walks towards the barred door. "Let's get out of here, then."

Well, there is one good thing about being damseled at least, Welsknight thinks bitterly as Helsknight begins moving the debris. Someone always sends you a knight in shining armor.

#the barking writer #welsknight #helsknight #swordheart au #sorry i couldnt resist this has been rotating in the back of my head ever since i read swordheart #hermitcraft fic #vault hunters fic #i know nothing about vault hunters except for like 10 eps of Iskalls singleplayer season 1 lets play please forgive me vh fans #helsmits

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