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moeitsu · 2 months

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Hi everyone! I have a new Arthur x female!OC fic I've been working on that's posted up on Ao3, so I figured I would share it here as well. Please let me know what you think! This story is currently still on-going :)

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Summary: Kate McCanon, a young widow from the north, meets outlaw Arthur Morgan. When the two cross paths she discovers a complex man wrestling with his own sense of right and wrong. As their unlikely bond deepens, Kate becomes determined to guide Arthur towards a brighter path, even as tensions rise within his gang led by the enigmatic Dutch van der Linde. With danger lurking at every turn, Kate must navigate treacherous territory to protect those she holds dear, all while finding love in the most unexpected of places. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapter 1 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

1890

Kate had never fancied herself a skilled woodworker. While she had lent a hand to her husband in constructing a barn, her role mostly entailed passing him tools and bringing him his lunch. But as she stood amidst the sawdust, tears streaking down her cheeks, she grappled with the daunting task ahead. She lacked both the sufficient wood and the patience to craft two coffins. Thus, the inevitable decision emerged: they would be laid to rest together.

The Reverend's suggestion to cremate the bodies, emphasizing the need to eradicate the disease completely, fell upon deaf ears. The mere thought of reducing her beloved husband and precious baby girl to ashes felt abhorrent to Kate. Instead, she harbored a tender hope that one day, perhaps, they would blossom into a magnificent Willow tree.

Amidst the melancholy chore, the vibrant symphony of birdsong provided a bittersweet backdrop, reminiscent of the lullabies she once crooned to her infant daughter. With a sorrowful melody humming in her heart, Kate toiled diligently, her hands blackened with grime, each wipe across her tear-stained cheeks a testament to her grief. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting their modest farm in a golden hue, Kate's work pressed on.

Night descended swiftly, cloaking the world in shadows that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Kate, perched upon her porch swing, found no solace in slumber. Her vigil was solemn, her gaze never wavering from the rough-hewn coffins that cradled her entire world within their confines.

With the break of dawn, the Reverend returned, his disapproval evident, yet tempered by resignation. Together, in a somber silence, they labored to fashion a final resting place. By mid-afternoon, the grave stood ready, a solemn abyss awaiting its occupants. With the Reverend's assistance, Kate tenderly lowered her cherished husband and daughter into the earth's cold embrace.

As dusk settled, the Reverend offered prayers and parting words before taking his leave. Left alone in her sorrow, Kate felt the weight of despair bearing down upon her. In a world forged by men and seemingly devoid of solace for a solitary widow, she found herself with no recourse but to depart.

Beneath the twilight sky, the epitaph etched upon their shared gravestone bore silent witness to her profound loss:

Here Lies My Beloved Noah, And Our Beautiful Daughter, Lorena.

May God Keep Their Souls.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

1899

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden rays across the sprawling expanse of Emerald Ranch, Kate found herself amidst the ebb and flow of another day's labor. Nine years had slipped by since the tragic loss of her husband and daughter, a span of time marked by wandering footsteps and the pursuit of odd jobs on her journey westward.

She had once heard her father say they had family in California, he had many sisters but only kept in touch with one. Kate wrote to her after the death of her husband, seeking asylum with a relative with nowhere else to go. Her Aunt wrote her back and gave her condolences, she said Kate would be welcome with open arms.

However, the last she heard of her Aunt was 7 years ago. But still, she continued west. She had come too far and been through too much to stop now. What she hoped to find in the valleys of California, she did not know anymore. Over the years she became more cowboy and less of a woman, her once soft hands now calloused by years of labor. The untamed plains and cold hard ground had become both her refuge and her bed.

She came to Emerald Ranch only a week ago, her boss; Seamus, was reluctant to hire a stranger, let alone a woman, to help on the ranch. Kate assured him she was cheap labor and was only looking for shelter and a place to rest until she was on the move again. Kate was no stranger to odd jobs, she took any work she could get and saved as much as she could. But she was no criminal.

She heard Seamus talking to two men as she filled the troughs with clean water. The gentlemen said they were new in town and looking for a partnership, one in which they could both make money.

“Look I ain't no idiot, and I don't trust folks outta the blue. If you want to work together then you're gonna have to prove to me you’re worth my time.” Her boss's voice raised above the usual noise of the barn animals.

“Of course! We’re only interested in a partnership, just looking to make a little extra money.” Carried the voice of an older gentleman.

“No doubt. I do interesting very well. It's trusting that I don't do so well.” her boss answered, still not convinced by the two strangers.

“Look at us, we’re honest as the day is long,” said the other man with cheer.

“You really want us to prove ourselves to this clown Hosea?” said the other voice, sounding much younger than his partner.

Seamus scoffed, “good day to you, Hosea.”

“N-now wait a minute Seamus. Arthur can be rough, and quick with his tongue, but I swear you can trust him, you can trust me.” Hosea pleaded, following Seamus to the side of the barn. Kate now had a clear view of the new “business partners”.

Kate didn't know Seamus very well, but she could tell he was an honest enough man. Wise for his years, and liked to keep his nose out of trouble. “I’m an old man Hosea,” he began, “and you know why I ain’t dead yet?”

“Because you don't trust idiots,” Hosea finished.

“Exactly.”

“We’re not idiots, Seamus. Let us prove it to you.” Hosea had an air of confidence, he wasn't some runaway bum looking to make a quick buck. He was serious about a partnership. Although Kate wouldn't say the same for his partner, who loomed behind them like a panther ready to pounce.

“Okay…I’ll tell you what, old Bob Crawford and his boys just bought a beautiful stolen stagecoach from up north. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that,” he looked around for anyone who might be listening to his scheming, “then we can work together.” He said quietly, placing a hand on Hosea’s shoulder.

“Who’s Old Bob Crawford?” inquired Hosea.

“An acquaintance of mine…well, not just an acquaintance. He’s my cousin, by marriage.” Seamus explained.

“Oh so now we’re meddlin’ in your family business?” Arthur boasted with skepticism.

Hosea waved him off and continued speaking, “Where is he located?”

“Now hang on a moment, you boys could very easily take this coach and sell it yourselves for a pretty penny,” Seamus began.

“So you comin’ with us? I thought you didn't want to be involved in shady business?” Arthur spoke up again.

“Heavens no, if my cousin saw me it would be my death. I'm sending someone with you, as collateral.” Seamus turned around and saw Kate already watching them, he waved her over.

Arthur shook his head disapprovingly, “nah, I don't do babysitters Seamus.”

Kate was just as skeptical about her part in this, she told Seamus she was looking for honest work, and robbing his cousin certainly falls out of that line.

“She’s not babysitting . She’ll take you to my cousin's farm and let you do the robbing. Kate has been working for me for a few days now and she’s tougher than she looks.” Seamus said turning to Kate, “I want you to make sure that stage coach gets back to me. You don't need to take part in the robbery.”

“You’re fine with them robbing your cousin?” She spoke in a hushed tone so only Seamus could hear.

“By marriage,” he added, “and yes, I would love it. The man’s been a thorn in my ass for years.” He said amused.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get a good look at the two strangers. One was indeed much older than the other, with cropped white hair peeking out from under his hat. The other gentleman was tall and burly, and he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. He seemed wary of strangers and kept both hands resting on his gun belt.

“Let me get my horse saddled and I’ll meet you boys at the intersection leading out of town.” She spoke, Hosea nodded and was already making his way to his horse. Arthur stood for a moment eyeing the woman, no doubt playing the intimidation tactic. But Kate had seen far scarier men than him in her days. “Y'know the quicker we get this done the quicker you fellas get paid.” She noted.

Arthur scoffed and finally followed Hosea to his horse, “don't need no damn babysitter,” he grumbled kicking dust.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate made quick work of saddling her black Hungarian roan, she calls Lorena. After her infant daughter. In a moments pass she was on the dirt road leading out of Emerald Ranch and toward Carmody Dell. She waved for the two men to follow her, they stayed behind her a short distance and made no effort for small conversation.

However, she overheard snippets of their own conversation as they went, “I thought you wanted me to be the strong arm? That's usually how it goes,” Arthur spoke.

“Yes but..” Hosea hesitated, lowering his tone a little, “you know how this works.”

“Cmon Hosea that fellers a joke, he don't even trust us enough to handle it ourselves. Now we got a chaperone.” Arthur complained loudly, at least he’s not calling me a babysitter , Kate thought.

“All the better, he won't cause us any problems. And I cant blame the guy for sending the girl. Two strangers looking for quick money? Hell, I’d want assurance too.” Hosea answered, “besides, if he’s sending protection that means there’s big money to be made. Seamus wants his cut.”

Kate came to the same conclusion, up until now Seamus had given her the usual ranch-hand tasks. Feeding and cleaning mostly. This was very different, there must be good money for this stage coach.

“I guess you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea mumbled something back to Arthur about “hanging up their hats” if they couldn't finish a job as easy as this. They laughed and began chatting about their travels in Emerald ranch, Kate tuned them out and began humming a song to her horse.

Her singing always pleased her horse and calmed the girl’s nerves. She was a strong and fierce steed, but jumpy and needy like a baby sometimes. Kate thought naming her horse after her daughter would bring her closure, instead, she was almost convinced that her daughter's spirit lived on in Lorena somehow. In all ways except biological, her horse was her baby.

Carmody Dell was a short distance north past the train tracks and Fort Wallace, Kate had passed it once before. They rode at a steady pace, the men behind her never coming too close. She wondered for a moment what their story was, and why they needed money so bad. Perhaps they were travelers like her, maybe they even had a caravan. She entertained the thought of traveling with a group again, but shuddered at the memories. Her previous caravan adventures had not ended well.

Once the ranch was in view she slowed and allowed the boys to catch up on either side of her. She led them to a grassy clearing off the road.

“You should continue on foot from here, I’ll stay behind with your horses.” She said dismounting. The two of them nodded and dismounted their horses, Kate was almost surprised to hear no objections from Arthur.

“C'mon son, let's see what we’re dealing with here.” Hosea commented walking towards a large rock in front of the house.

“Son”, so they are family . She mentally noted. Arthur gave his horse a pat, “be a good girl for the lady” he said, tipping his hat towards Kate. She was slightly taken aback by the sudden politeness.

She busied herself with the horses for a bit while the men laid out their plan, she gave Hosea and Arthurs horse a treat and was about to start brushing his horse when he approached her again. Startled, she backed away from his mare, she didn't want him to think she was snooping in his saddle bags.

“You can keep brushin’ her, she loves attention,” he half smiled reaching up and petting her snout. “I just came to tell ya’ we’re gonna wait till it gets dark. Less chance of getting caught that way.”

“Smart,” she replied, for whatever reason she suddenly felt very shy in his presence.

He stood a few feet away from her and she could see more of his features. He was around her age. He had short dirty blond hair under his leather hat, and bright blue/green eyes. Her eyes lingered over his body. He was big too, more than a foot taller than her and well fed and muscular. His bicep had to be the size of her head alone, and she could tell by the fabric of his button down he had a bit of a belly hidden behind his gun belt.

“What’s her name?” His voice broke through her awkward silence.

“Who?” She asked and looked back at him.

He chortled, “the black beauty you got over there,” he nodded to her horse.

Oh, duh! “Her name is Lorena, she also loves attention but she’s nervous around new people.” Kate answered, still a bit lost in her thoughts.

Arthur made a clicking sound with his tongue, reaching out a hand and slowly walking toward her horse. “It’s alright girl,” he cooed while she sniffed his palm. He pulled out a peppermint and gave it to her, which Lorena happily accepted.

Kate smiled at the interaction, “you introduce yourself to my horse before me?” she teased.

“My apologies ma’am,” he turned to face her, “names Arthur Morgan.”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan, I’m Kate McCanon.” She reached out her hand and he shook it. His grip was firm but polite.

“Likewise, Miss.McCanon. That’s Belle your brushin’, and that’s Silver Dollar.” He pointed at Hosea’s horse. “I saw this beauty when we first rode into Emerald ranch, had no idea she was yours tho.” He was talking about her horse again, “told myself I’d inquire about buying her if she was available.”

Kate smiled at the affection he was showing for her horse, she knew Lorena was a beautiful mare. She often received compliments on the road, and many have offered to pay for her purebred.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but she’s not for sale.”

“Well I can certainly see that,” he laughed, “she seems happy though. You must take real good care of her.” He said, his attention still on her mare as he scratched under her chin.

“You some kind of horse breeder Mr. Morgan?” Kate asked.

Arthur laughed, “no no. Nothing like that, though sometimes I wish I was.” He smiled as he said it but Kate noticed there was a sadness in his tone. “I just think they’re neat is all.”

They had only just met, and while Arthur was not initially the most pleasant, she found it incredibly cute how enraptured he was by her horse.

“I should probably also apologize for my rudeness earlier, it’s been a rough couple weeks for us and we uh- don’t always take too kindly to strangers.” Arthur took off his hat as he spoke and held it to his chest, a sincere gesture.

Kate was shocked, the man she met at Emerald ranch not even an hour ago seemed like a completely different person than the man before her. His cold demeanor was gone, or at least reined in at the moment.

“No apology needed Mr. Morgan. I understand,” She answered. “Although I wouldn’t call it rude, you were just skeptical. Rightfully so, can I ask what brings you to Emerald Ranch?”

Arthur looked away from her as he spoke, choosing to focus on her horse. “We’re just stayin’ in the area for a few weeks. Passin’ through and tryna make money.”

“By robbing stagecoaches?” Kate said in an amused tone, “you a bunch of outlaws or something?” She continued, half-joking.

Arthur looked at her with surprise, “What? No, we uh- got laid off from the railway. Up-north. Just looking for money so we can find a place to settle down again. That’s all.” He looked away again, avoiding her gaze.

“I’ll say it again, by robbing stagecoaches?” She kept her tone playful, but wasn’t entirely convinced by his story. But it felt good to be the intimidator.

“Wasn’t our idea, Seamus asked us to rob his cousin!” His voice rose slightly with anger.

“By marriage,” Kate retorted.

Arthur was about to speak again but only stared at her.

“I’m just pulling your leg Mr. Morgan.” Kate laughed. “It’s no business of mine. I’m only passing through here, same as you. What you do here and how you earn your money is your business. As is mine.”

Arthur scoffed, suddenly amused, did this woman just tease me?

He went to speak again before another voice interrupted them, “Arthur! Get over here!” Called Hosea. He pointed a finger at Kate as to say this isn’t over and walked away.

Amused with herself, Kate grabbed an apple and sat down against a tree. Watching the sun set as she waited for the cover of night so the two men could pull off their heist.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate woke suddenly to the sound of horses moving. She quickly got up and looked in the direction of the ranch. Sure enough the stage coach was steadily moving down the path away from its place in the barn. She quickly mounted her horse and trotted over to them.

“Nice work! Follow me back to Emerald Ranch and try to keep it in one piece.” She called up to Hosea who was driving the coach. With that she clicked her tongue and took off ahead of the coach at a steady but quick pace. Not wanting to get themselves caught.

Before Hosea could crack the reins he looked to Arthur as he was about to get in the coach, “you ride ahead with her. I got this.”

Arthur looked confused, “why wouldn’t I ride with you? The horses will follow.”

Now Hosea was giving him an amused look, “I heard you with her earlier.”

“And?” The cowboy replied slightly annoyed.

“You’ve never fumbled our cover story so bad!” He quipped, “it was like listening to a child tell it!”

Arthur shook his head, “now you’re playin’ match maker old man?” He teased, trying to hide his smile.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to go talk to her son."

Without another word Arthur nodded and dismounted the coach, getting into the saddle and riding off to catch up to Kate.

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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 15

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Idiots in love, silly stripper routine, unserious reference to foot fetishes, mention of rimming, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, vampire bite, blood drinking, use of a safe word, alcohol consumption, PTSD, anxiety/fear, panic reaction. Summary: Picking up where the last chapter left off, Max and Dolly share a night of intimacy that makes their time in the past even more precious. Nothing lasts forever, though, and there are less easy nights ahead. Notes: For this week's photo, have a peak at the guest bedroom that inspired Dolly and Max's getaway. This is the second floor guest room at the Vanderbilt's summer cottage, standing in for a guest room in their 5th Avenue palace. (And, as usual, forgive any errors I may have missed in proofreading. I really have to learn to do it before I get too sleepy.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

"Tired, sweetheart?"

"Not at all." You've said goodnight to Renee and to Emmanuel's valet already, telling them you don't need help getting ready to sleep tonight, and that leaves just you and Max alone in your room together with a fire to keep you warm. "I do want to go to bed, though."

“Mhmmmmm.” Max licks his lips and winks at you. “Then we will have to get you out of that ballgown.” He tuts after he says it and frowns. “And I can’t rip it off you since it’s back in the future.”

"Most of it is just untying bows," you remind him, but your fingers feel for the seam on the left side of your bodice and start to unclip it carefully. This is the part that requires care. If anything underneath gets torn? Well...that's just an unfortunate accident.

Max decides that he should slip off his tailored coat, hanging it over the back of a chair before he's assisting you – wearing his vest and button down, shirt and tie still. "The loveliest bow I've ever unwrapped." He murmurs. "You are a gift, Dolly." Max has always flirted, always shmoozed, but with you – the pretty words come naturally and from the heart.

“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d say you were too over the top to mean it.” He helps you with the hooks and clasps of your skirt and slipping out of your bodice, so that you’re just left in your many layers of underthings. The pretty corset cover would be a shame to lose, so you quickly set to work on those buttons.

"When it comes to you? Never." Max promises, wanting to rip everything off of you, but he also wants this to be romantic. Slightly afraid that your ex had been rough in the bedroom and doing that would trigger you, he keeps his hands steady and slow. Deciding that he will seduce you.

The ties holding each petticoat in place are easily pulled open, and each one is pulled over your head and tossed aside with little ceremony but enormous amounts of anticipation until you’re in just your stockings, corset, and chemise. It’s not that Max has never seen you naked. He has literally helped you wash, held you while you cried, and tasted your essence straight from the source. You’re not embarrassed to be seen by him. It’s just that the anticipation around this night has built up so distinctly that your skin has a layer of goosebumps just from wondering exactly how it will happen. The careful removal of your last few layers leaves you breathless, his cool fingers delicately shedding each piece of fabric from your skin like he’s plucking the petals from a flower.

Max’s fingers skim the underside of your breasts, not cupping them and just teasing with the cool brush of them. “Dolly…” he hums as he ducks his head and kisses along your neck. “We’re alone now.” He reminds you. “Tell me what you want.”

“It…seems pretty straightforward to me?” It’s also borderline impossible to think with Max’s lips on you, and you struggle to pull your thoughts together based on that one distraction alone. “I—I want to make love to my soulmate.” It seems ludicrous to say it out loud like that. Old fashioned and sentimental. But…the reality is, that this is sentimental. It’s the most sentimental you’ve ever felt in your life. Because Max is worth that emotional weight. Right now the only weight that isn’t worth it is the last of your clothes, which he helps you out of with eager hands.

“Romantic and slow.” Max decides, smiling against your skin and kissing your pulse. “Strip you down and kiss every inch of your skin. Before I finally slide inside you.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, swallowing a gasp when he nips at your pulse again. “Romantic torture? Actually sounds pretty sexy.”

“Not torture, worship.” He corrects you, sliding his hands over your bare stomach and down your hips. “Show you what you deserve.”

“Baby…” Turning around in his arms, you smooth one hand over his shaved cheek and bite your lip, holding back a worried pout. “You’re not in competition with my demons, love. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” He promises softly. “I am better than your demons and I want to prove it.”

"Conversely?" You step closer to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "In some cultures you would be considered a demon in your own right. So maybe we're just fighting fire with fire?"

“I am a demon.” His eyes flash yellow and he smirks. “A love demon.” It’s a joke, one to make you laugh.

“A desire demon?” Teasing him right back, you easily press your body against his and trail kisses from his lips to his jaw and down his neck.

"Yes." Max groans and closes his eyes and tilts his head back so let you do what you want. "Your desire demon."

“Hmmm,” you hum against his skin, almost triumphant in the way he’s reacting to you. “Yes, you definitely are.”

You make his knees weak, growling quietly as his body tightens in pleasure. "Dolly."

"Mm?" Having someone as powerful as Max is shake for you is a little intoxicating, and you barely stop to mumble against his skin. "What do you want, baby?"

"I want you." He groans, making sure he doesn't tighten his hold on you too much. You are still human and delicate. "I want to see you cum again."

“Then we should finish getting you undressed.” One more nip at his jaw makes him groan and you grin unrepentantly before you declare: “I want to watch.” And get up on the bed with darkened eyes.

Max grins, winking at you as he starts to slowly undress. "Bam Bam, bum bum." He teases, rolling his hips playfully in a mock strip tease.

The sight of him undressing isn’t funny – by definition it’s the single sexiest thing you’ve seen in your life to date. The fact that he’s doing a Chippendale’s routine in a full tuxedo is what does it, sending you into a torrent of giggles on the bed.

He pouts at you, even though he's sending you an air kiss. "Are you laughing at me?" He huffs playfully. "You wound me."

“I’m laughing at the fact that you’re singing your own stripper music,” you promise him. “If you’d picked Pour Some Sugar on Me, I’d be laughing even harder. The whole thing is perfect, baby.”

He winks and turns around to shake his ass at you with a small twerk. Enjoying the way you are laughing and having fun. You had been so apprehensive about anything physical at the beginning and now look at you.

“Max…” When you say his name again it’s soft and sweet, as gentle as you’ve ever been in your life. This man has no idea how much he has changed your approach to life. How much lighter your heart is because of him. How much sweeter the world seems with him beside you. “I love you.”

Turning back around, Max beams at you. "I love you too." He promises, unable to resist rushing over to you to press his lips to yours. The bump of his heart making him shiver and hum against your mouth.

Urging him closer without breaking the kiss, one hand pulls Max toward you on the bed while the other shoves fruitlessly at his open trousers, trying to push them off of his hips in the same motion that you would have him beside you in bed. It feels giddy in a way, from all the giggling and the tender vows, and you swear this is the closest to being a romantically portrayed young lady in love from a period film that you’ll ever get in your life. And really? You love it.

Kneeling on the bed, Max gazes down at you lovingly and bites his lip. "Want to make this a night to remember, Queenie." He hums, leaning in and kissing you softly. "I'm going to kiss every inch of your body."

The urge to get one last tease in is too great, and you widen your eyes to a look of endearing confusion and distaste after kissing him back. “Even my feet?”

"Baby, a man's foot fetish isn't something to scoff at." He teases. "You don't want me to suck on your toes?"

You scrunch up your face and shake your head, letting out another soft giggle. “I can’t say it’s on my list,” you admit. “Ballet and ballroom feet aren’t exactly modeling-ready.”

"But you don't exactly have ugly feet either, love." He wrinkles his nose, but nods. "However I will leave your feet alone, but don't tell me I can't lick your asshole."

A slow tilt of your head shows you’re actually considering it, and after a second you shrug. “I’ve never tried it, so sure. Why not?”

"What?" His eyes widen in shock and he is absolutely flabbergasted. "Really? You— you never tried— and I can—?"

You shrug again, but you’re grinning over Max’s shock. “Nobody ever asked before. So nope. Never tried any of it.”

"Dear sweet baby Jesus..." Max slaps his hands together and looks up at the ceiling. "Thank you for giving me such an innocent little soulmate to turn into a dirty girl." He grins down at you wickedly when he says that.

“Cunt first, ass second,” you tell him, wagging a finger like he’s a naughty schoolboy. “Deal?”

Waggling his brows, he makes an 'x' over his heart. "Deal." He slides off the bed to strip down fully, clothes removed in less than five seconds and he stands in front of you completely bare.

“Get back here.” More than just wanting to see him, you want to touch him. The small touches and baby steps you’ve taken aren’t enough anymore. You reach out to pull him back on the bed, letting him loom over you and taking in all the defined planes of his body before you smooth your hands down his chest and over his stomach — down to dig your fingertips into his hips before looking up to make sure it’s okay for you to explore more.

"Do you want me on my back, Dolly?" He asks softly. "I will do whatever you want and let you do whatever you want to me."

“I just want to touch you.” Already your breathing has turned heavier, lust swimming in your stomach and in your eyes. “I don’t care if you’re standing or lying down or however you’re comfortable.”

Max shifts to his side, biting his lip as he stretches out for you. His hard cock is bobbing between you and he watches you as you look him over.

“Gods…” He really is gorgeous. It would be borderline absurd if you weren’t so giddy about him being yours. “I am a very lucky girl.” You hum, turning the tables on him and starting to kiss down his body instead.

"Shiiiiiiit." Max groans and bites his lip, keeping his eyes open as your mouth starts to caress his body. "Queenie, I'm supposed to worship you."

Barely pausing in your journey down his torso, you nip at both of his hips before grinning up at him. "Can't it be both?"

“You are full of surprises.” He huffs out, but he doesn’t move to stop you on your quest.

"You've been taking such good care of me." One hand on his chest encourages him to lay all the way back, and you shift yourself to kneel between his legs. "Let me take care of you for once," you insist, lowering your head to take his cock into your mouth with a groan.

He had not expected that. Head falling back onto the pillows, Max lets out a moan that would be embarrassing if he gives a shit. But he just lifts his head and watches you slowly roll your tongue around the head. “Sweetheart— fuck.”

Humming as you bob up and down on his shaft, you would be hard-pressed to believe before this that you had actually missed something as simple as giving head, but it's giving pleasure that you missed. Sharing in intimacy. Having a real partner. Max has done so much for you that extending this intimacy is a pleasure for you as well. Plus, his moans are exquisite. Every single sound out of this man is gold, and you want to hear every single way he'll gasp your name as you swallow his cock.

The urge to grab you has Max clawing at the sheets, desperately trying now to shred the fine silks that Mrs. Vanderbilt had ordered. It’s hard, especially the way that you are so eagerly sucking him. “Dolly, Dolly— baby— you gotta— I can’t—”

It almost pains you to have to stop, but the obscene popping noise that comes with pulling off of his length is far more satisfying than it should be. “Did I do something wrong?” Instinct tells you no, but you still want to check in with him.

“Fuck no.” He groans, reaching down and cupping your cheek to pull you up for a desperate kiss. “You’re just gonna suck my soul out through my cock.”

“And is that bad?” The kiss truly is desperate — sloppy and enthusiastic and full of passion. You’ll absolutely keep going if he lets you, but Max might have other ideas about how he wanted tonight to go.

“No, but I wanted to show off my amazing skills before I cum.” He huffs playfully. “And possibly weep while doing it.”

“Honey.” Your face softens, love tempering lust, and you cup Max’s jaw in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. “Believe me, if anybody’s going to cry tonight it’s going to be me. And they’re going to be happy tears. Only the happiest tears with you, I promise.”

“Only happy tears.” Max doesn’t even want those, but he knows you probably will. He kisses you again. “Now…if you really want to suck my cock, we can do a little Gilded Age face sitting?”

“I really do.” The confession comes with a smirk, and you nudge his onto his back again gently. “But if I’m too heavy on you or it’s not comfortable, tell me right away. Okay?”

“Queenie.” Max tuts and looks at you, completely offended. “Who do you think I am?”

“Well…” The real answer is that Derek and other previous boyfriends had never wanted to share this particular experience — but none of them really ate pussy to begin with. And that’s something Max excels at. “I didn’t want to assume…” is what you answer instead.

“Assume all you want.” He chuckles. “You can’t hurt me sweetheart, I don’t need to breathe.”

“I forget about that…” you mumble, cheeks warm with embarrassment but not so much that it dampens your enthusiasm. Max pats his chest and waggles his eyebrows when he lays back, encouraging you to give him all you’ve got — so you take him at his word. You settle your knees on either side of his head and intend to be at least slightly delicate about lowering yourself over his face, but Max grabs your hips with a growl and pulls you straight down to him eagerly, making you gasp in surprise as much as pleasure.

Max has shown you what he can do but he wants to improve on that. Really drive you crazy. His tongue isn’t shy, never hesitant as he dives into your folds with a happy groan. The symphony the two of you make right off the bat is enviable. Every groan Max rumbles into your folds comes out of your own mouth as a barely contained moan. The kind that have to be muffled somehow, and there is no way quite as good to stifle moans than by taking Max's cock back in your mouth.

Max hisses into your wet folds when you engulf his cock. Loving how eager you are for it and him. It makes him work even harder to make you moan loudly. It's the kind of overwhelming feeling that only feels better the more and more you put into it. The vibrations he gets from you moaning as you swirl your tongue around his cock move through him in waves and end up pushed right back into your pussy as he licks and sucks every possible inch of your pussy.

Max squeezes your ass, smirking into your folds as he slurps and sucks. Loving every dirty second as the two of you are in a race for pleasure. It really isn’t long before your thighs start to shake and your stomach tightens. Max knows your body too well even after so little time that he can shuttle you toward pleasure with a deft and expert hand. Or, in this case, tongue.

Groaning your name into your cunt, Max watches you. Feeling your pulse speed up and the heady arousal thickening on his tongue. Signifying you are close to coming apart for him. He grunts, squeezing your ass and bringing you back on his face more, nearly pulling you off his cock completely.

You know he's always careful with you, making sure he doesn't hurt you, but the way his fingertips dig into your hips tonight almost makes you wish that he would one day. That he would go just far enough that you could still feel his grip on your thighs the next day as you go about your utterly normal life. While you know that he won't do that tonight, it feels far too good to care. The way you're careening toward your first orgasm of the night is too good to care about anything else.

Your breath catches and he knows you are about to come apart for him. Wanting to see it in all its glory when you finally break. There's no mistaking the way you shake for him. He knows it well by now and you're realizing that Max affects you in ways no one ever had before – whether that's talent on his part or the soulmate connection is up for debate. In the moment that the tether inside you snaps and you flood his eager tongue with cum, you're forced to pull away from him or really and truly you might be far too enthusiastic and choke on his cock before you can get further into the night. But pulling away means there is nothing to muffle your cries, and you force yourself to stifle a loud moan of his name to make sure that the house doesn't echo with the sounds of your pleasure.

The good thing about his strength is that he can move you around like a leaf on the wind. Bolting upright so your legs are dangling over his shoulders, the snarl Max gives is feral as he feasts in your juices. Slurping them down as if they were ambrosia, and they are. It’s the best something has tasted since he’s been turned into a vampire.

"Gods—" You hold tight to him as he drinks you down, every last drop licked from your lips and then from his.

He chuckles, a dirty, self-satisfied sound as he smacks his lips. “Was that good enough for our opening act? Or shall I show you again?”

You could prolong the night. You know you could. Make it last as long as possible and truly wring each other out. But you’re craving the closeness of having him with you and inside you in a way that you can’t quite describe. When Max cradles you in his arms again after you catch your breath, you can’t help the soft, breathy tone in your voice when you promise him: “I’m ready.”

Gently, probably the gentlest he’s ever been, Max repositions you. Wanting to make sure that you are comfortable and looking him in the eyes when you assure him. His eyes are light, almost yellow with desire but his words are soft. “Are you sure? You want me to make love to you?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Lying beneath him in this borrowed bed, it seems like the strangest thing in the world to say that this is right, but it’s all about him. It’s all about this time spent with your soulmate and finding your strength again — because he has loved all of you. Even the parts you thought were broken forever.

“Alright.” It’s out of character for him, or maybe out of character for the facade he wears for others, but Max is almost shy right now. The tenderest love shining on his face as he leans in to press his lips to yours. You trust him with the most vulnerable of things, your heart and the intimacy of your body. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” More fiercely and completely than you ever thought possible, and yet somehow that doesn’t make you scared. It makes you sure, and so you surge up to kiss him another time.

You are the bold one and Max finds that incredibly sexy. Groaning into the kiss as his body floods with a warmth that can only come from you. Easing you back down to the silken sheets and slowly starting to cover you with his own frame and your breath escapes into his mouth.

It feels also surreal to be desperate to be touched again, but when Max’s hand closes over your side to shift his weight above you and his lips connect with your pulse, you shiver. “I love you.” Murmured again with every ounce of honesty in your body, your legs wrap lightly around his waist to encourage him to settle in the cradle of your thighs.

“I love you, Dolly.” He nudges his nose against yours and slowly settles between your legs. His cock is achingly hard and throbbing against your core. “Tell me if you don’t like something.”

“I promise.” The welcome pressure of having him between your thighs only makes you pant more heavily, needing him as much as wanting.

“Good girl.” He hums, kissing all over your face and down your jaw. “My beautiful soulmate. All mine.” His hips slowly grinding against you, feeling you get even wetter as you squirm under his cool body.

"All yours." The first real press of the head of his cock against your entrance has you squirming, practically begging for more.

Max slides his hand between you, wanting to make sure there’s no slips, no uncomfortable misses that would cause you a second’s discomfort. Wanting this to be experience you deserve. “And I’m yours.” He promises, sealing that vow with a kiss as his hips slowly push forward and the head of his length slips inside you seamlessly.

That familiar first press is almost foreign after so long without it, but wanting it makes you sigh and lets your whole body relax to take him in. Blazing hot, soaking wet, and squeezing his cock tight, your body is as welcoming to him as it possibly could be — especially with your head tossed back on the pillow and a low moan of his name on your lips as he rocks his hips forward to fill your pussy more and more with each stroke.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” Max moans, kissing your neck where you bare it. He wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your throat but he resists. “So good, taking my cock. You like it filling you up?”

“Fuck—” Even just the groaned out curse comes with a fervent nod of your head, and you squeeze your eyes shut or open them wide alternately and he presses inside you, slowly but surely. “Fuck, Max, oh gods—I—feels so fucking good, love.”

“That’s it, you’re so perfect. Fuck, I’m about to cum you’re so tight and hot.” Max groans into your lip, trying to stay connected as much as possible.

“Slow and steady, baby,” you encourage him breathlessly, rolling your hips under him to tell him it’s okay to move.

“I’ve got you.” He groans. “Gonna take care of you. Make sure you don’t have any complaints.”

“Could never.” Complain? About him? Fuck no. If anything, your mind is fogged with happiness.

It’s taking so long but finally, finally, his hips are flush with yours and he’s buried to the hilt again. Pausing for a second before the slow drag out of you begins. He wants to take his time, but he also can’t bare to pull out of you.

Slow and steady is truly it. Like Max doesn’t even want to leave the clutch of your body but he knows it will feel so Fucking good when he does.

Hissing, Max rolls his hips quickly back into you. “Fucking perfect.” He praises. “You’re fucking perfect, Dolly.”

The rhythm he sets is exquisite, carrying you through waves of pleasure by clinging to you every bit as hard as you cling to him. Of course everyone says that your soulmate is your perfect match, but you had never really thought it would extend this far. Never thought that when he slid his arms under you in bed to keep you as close as possible, you would feel like you had finally come home.

Max has always been a thorough lover. Call it ego, call it pure pride, but he wants his partner to sing his praises during and afterwards. This time, it’s more about giving. Wanting you to have nothing but bliss when you’re in his arms. The slight slap of his hips isn’t enough to jar you, just a subtle little sound.

Every roll forward is somehow the fullest and most blissful you’ve ever felt. Stifling your moans into endless kisses and letting your hands explore the plains of his body as he moves above you and never hold back from letting your own body respond to his. Every inch of you seeks him out, so your hips roll to match his and your hands clutch to keep him close even as he has you cradled against his chest.

“Never gonna let you go, Dolly. Never gonna let you go.” He groans out, holding you close and nearly panting against your throat. He’s so fucking overwhelmed by the feel of you, of your scent and softness. The feelings bursting inside of him has him melting into you.

"Staying right here," you promise him, gasping with every thrust forward. "With you."

"You are my other half, my better half." He moans, scattering your skin with kisses. "My Queenie, my queen, my life." Until you arrived, Max had been so focused on success that it was what he lived for, now he just wants to live for you.

"Love you —" A sharp, strong thrust makes you groan into his shoulder, and you clutch him tighter. "Forever, baby."

“Forever.” Forever is a long time, especially for him and yet if there is anyone he believes would love him for an endless amount of time, he believes that it would be you. There's no second guessing or doubting when it comes to you. Just love.

You both felt like you might shake apart when you were finally joined together, and that feeling hasn't abated. Every stroke is a scrub of your pussy walls as he pushes inside you until you feel so full that your heart swells along with everything else. It's lovemaking, in the purest and simplest definition of the term, and you've never felt so lucky in your entire life.

"Never felt like this." Max admits, pulling back to look into your eyes. His own are yellow now, his facial features slightly sharper than before but he's holding back from transforming. Taking more effort than usual due to how much you affect him. "Never."

"Max—" Your chest heaves and back bows under the shaking pleasure. "Do you—" Seeing his eyes makes the thought swirl, and you would be lying if you said it was the first time it had occurred to you since arriving in 1885. "Drink from me."

The vampire above you shudders, a full body shiver that races through him and vibrates against your skin. Eyes widening and brightening even more. Tinged with hunger, desire and concern all swirled together. "Are you sure?" His voice is deeper, raspier and stopped mid-thrust to stare at you.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in it. No worry or hidden anxiety. Only the surety that it will make this night — this first time together — all the more meaningful. “I said forever, love. And I mean it.”

He hisses, fangs popping out of his gums and it's a miracle he doesn't bury them in your throat that second. "Tell me a word." He begs, sounding slightly pained. "A safe word."

The conversation in the woods seems ages ago, and napkin was never going to be a serious safe word to begin with. So when you force your mind to function just for half a second, what you come out with is “Traffic”, and that seems like as good a choice as any. There’s never going to be any reason to say the word traffic in bed otherwise. “And you’ll… you’ll let me drink from you, too?”

"Yes." He all but groans the word, nodding at the thought of you having a bit of his blood inside you, carrying him with you. "I will. Let you have it whenever you want." Although it wasn't technically addicting, the more vampiric blood a human drank, the stronger it made them. Some humans loved to drink as much as they donated in return. "It won't hurt." He promises, kissing your lips and then ducking his head to lick over your pulse.

“I love you.” Words of trust are the only thing that come from you now, as if to say that your love for him and your trust in him are entirely intertwined. That no matter what else happens between the two of you, the tether of this togetherness holds those two things in it for both of you forever.

"I love you." He growls the sentiment, pulling his tongue away from your skin just long enough to get it out. "Forever." He reminds you, right before his razor-sharp fangs slice through the thin layers of your skin to the beautiful, pulsing vein below the surface.

It’s pressure and a sharp pinch, just like having blood drawn at the doctor, but the difference in the moments after is enormous. At the first feeling of blood being drawn up through his fangs, your body shakes in pure pleasure and kickstarts the most unexpected, swirling, lasting orgasm that has ever wracked your body.

He had known you would cum from it. Had predicted it as sure as the sun rising every morning. Groaning as he mouths against your skin and retracts his fangs so he can suck, his cock still buried deep inside you is twitching as you pulse around him.

“Fuck— fuck— oh gods—” The feeling is so much more intense than you expected and so much more pleasurable, making you moan and whimper beneath him as the hot rush of orgasm courses through you. If that is going to happen every time he bites you, you’re going to need to be sitting or lying down each and every time.

He keeps rocking into you, filling you with every snap of his hips. Slightly harsher than before as he gulps down mouthful after mouthful of your sweet blood. It's like ambrosia and he has to remind himself not to drink too much.

His pace quickens, pushing you toward yet another orgasm even faster than normal, and you’re swimming in a lighter-than-air, almost out-of-body feeling as your moans grow louder and sharper. You have to untangle one hand from the silk sheets to slap over your own mouth because Max is still drinking from you, and it takes you another few seconds to realize that you have to be the one to stop him. “Max—” Keening his name into the night, The fingers of the one you still have on him are clawing into his back while the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens all over again. “Baby—traffic.” Starting to feel lightheaded is what tips you off, though you know that could still just be the sex.

Max freezes. The cool coil of dread knotting in his stomach as he pulls away. Lips stained with your blood as he searches your face. “What’s wrong, what hurt?”

“I’m okay,” you promise him, pressing a kiss to his lips and tasting the irony tang of your own blood in the process. “Just starting to feel pretty lightheaded.”

"That happens sometimes during sex." He assures you, leaning in and licking your neck to heal your wounds.

“I’ll remember for next time.” He’s frozen still inside you, but your body is aching and needed more despite multiple orgasms. “I didn’t kill the mood, did I?”

"Do you want to keep going?" He asks, frowning slightly. He wants to make sure that your safe word didn't mean a full stop for everything. "What do you want, Dolly?"

“I want to keep going.” You pick your head up and kiss the place where his pulse beats whenever your lips meet his. “Please?”

You can have whatever you want but he's relieved that you want to keep going. Not that he would have been upset, but because he never wanted to do anything to make you feel like you had to stop. "I love you." He promises, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours and slowly starts to move again.

“I love you, too.” Shifting beneath him, your legs come around his waist and your arms twine around his back, letting each thrust hit that much deeper inside you.

“Will you cum again for me, sweet girl?” Max groans, the taste of you still so robust on his tongue. “Will you cry out for me again?”

“Feel so good…” Already your breathing turns heavier, that powerful heaviness and electricity of just being connected to him piquing every feeling in your body. “Gods you feel so good, love.”

"I'm a lucky bastard." Max grunts, gathering up the remains of his control and feeling even closer to you now that he's drunk from you. Pulling you closer and rolling his hips and grinding into you rather than pulling out.

The intense grind of his hips rubs your swollen clit with each roll of his hips, working you up that much faster. Every thought but Max leaves your head, letting you focus on him and him alone. He can sense the changes in your breathing, in your heart rhythm. "You're gonna cum." He promises, ducking his head down and kissing along your throat. "Gonna come apart for me like a firework."

“Need you to cum with me.” You’re so close to the edge that you know this one is going to shatter you, holding yourself on the precipice of breaking apart at every seam and all you can do is beg him to follow you.

"Gonna." He promises, groaning out the word. Even though he doesn't need to breathe, he's choked up. Overwhelmed by the pure beauty of the moment. "Right after you do."

Whether he knows he’s giving you permission or not, you tumble off the cliff of one last climax, pouring your cry of his name into a kiss that tangles you together that much more. You shake apart underneath him, cunt squeezing him tight and heart pounding with every wave of your release.

Max shudders, absorbs the reaction of your body. Taking it into his soul and letting it burn inside him. Watching you as starlight burst behind your eyes. Making sure that you’re tumbling into pleasure before he thrusts deep, giving into his own needs.

The two of you lay together for long moments afterward, with Max cradling you close while you catch your breath. The feeling of being full is remarkable and oddly comforting, as the depth and the meaning of the moment washes over both of you. “I love you.” Another whisper into the candlelit-night, but it’s weightier this time. Most witches and vampires could only dream of bearing children together — but with your bloodline it is actually possible. Unlikely. Exceedingly rare. But possible.

He can sense what you are thinking about, the weight of it is also on his mind as well. "If we don't, we will still be happy." He promises you, stroking your shoulder lovingly and hoping he can keep that promise. "We can adopt or rescue puppies, whatever will make you happy and fulfill you."

“We have forever,” you remind him, within an almost wistful note in your voice. “We can do all of it.”

"Forever." He smiles. "We can do everything you want. Travel the world, and now, through time."

******

The next night feels like it's been pulled right out of a movie. The red, gold, and cream gown that Renee had laced you into is accented by a bold, beautiful set of ruby and citrine jewelry that Max and Yayo had found at the same jewelry store where Max picked out your ring. The elaborate hairdo and long, cream gloves make the long red velvet cape look positively purposeful, and you feel as made-up as could ever possibly imagine. The realization though, that you are not nearly the most elaborately dressed woman there, comes when you get out of your carriage. Annie and Emmanuel stand excitedly by on the steps waiting for Max to help you out onto the cobblestone, and her own pearl and diamond jewelry winks in the moonlight. It's simultaneously mystifying and yet so very easy to remember that this young woman is the same person who will one day be your mother, especially when she looks even more dressed up than she did in the photos of her wedding to your father. Annie is eager and smiling, eyes wide in the flickering gaslight on the street as the sign behind them proclaims the details for the production of Carmen that you are all about to see.

“I am so thrilled to be here.” She moons happily, clutching Emmanuel’s arm and smiling dreamily. This trip has been perfect and she cannot even imagine a more wonderful evening. “Box seats!”

"Your parents were very generous to allow us to use their box." Emmanuel is beaming with his newly minted fiancée on his arm.

“Yes, and I believe that we will have a grand time.” She coos, batting her lashes at him innocently. “Especially since we are also having a late dinner and dancing with the Vanderbilts.”

"We're looking forward to meeting more of their family." The invitation from Cornelius and Alice to join them at his brother's home for a soiree after the opera tonight was most appreciated, and from the way that Alice worded the invitation, you have a feeling that she might be looking forward to bringing guests who are exceptional dancers.

“Yes. I am so happy that we are here.” She turns her gaze to you and smiles. “And I get to enjoy your first opera by your side.”

You comb your mind for a long moment trying to decide exactly which kind of irony that statement is, considering your mother also took you to your first opera when you were ten years old and there was a production of The Magic Flute being performed in English nearby. Deciding it doesn't matter, you reach out to squeeze her hand when you reach the top of the stairs with Max and smile warmly. "I cannot think of anything that could make tonight better," you promise her honestly.

There is a dramatic sound of a bell, signifying that the guests need to find their seats so the opera can begin. “Oh there is Mrs. Astor.” Max leans in to tell you. “Everyone is here, apparently.” He’s smirking slightly, curious to interact with her now that he knows she’s also a modern woman in a primitive time.

“We should go and say hello to her at intermission.” You return Mrs. Astor’s small wave when she spots you across the lobby but follow your mother and Emmanuel and the young man who is escorting the four of you to your box. The blur around you — of color, of sound, of so many people so excited for the evening — has you grinning and giddy for the night in your own right.

"What I wouldn't give for my phone." Max murmurs to you. "Not to call anyone, but for the fucking selfies." He's joking of course, but high resolution colored photos from this time would be amazing.

“We could start an Instagram trend,” you joke quietly, holding into his arm as you take the stairs inside the opera house’s lobby. “Photoshopping your selfie into a historical period. Except ours wouldn’t be photoshopped.”

"Do you think people would question a selfie stick in this time?" Max asks, chuckling at the reaction to him pulling out the long telescopic tool.

“You’d get questioned like an inventor. Nobody loves gadgets like they do in this time.” The theater around you is so incredibly opulent that you really can’t look away — eyes bouncing from one thing to another like a kid in a candy store. “This place is gorgeous,” you murmur to him as you walk.

"Yes it is." The opulence cannot be replicated in your time. The attention to detail and craftmanship lost through modernization and mechanization of the world. They called it The Gilded Age for a very good reason and Max is mesmerized by the sight. "Nearly as gorgeous as my wife."

You throw him a grin and roll your eyes teasingly for good measure, but Annie overhears the last comment and coos dreamily at the two of you. “Flattery is Max’s middle name,” you tell her with a little laugh.

"A beaming bride makes for a lovely night." Max tells Emmanuel seriously, changing the popular phrase 'Happy wife, happy life' to fit into the times and your situation. "Romance her as much as possible and she will flourish."

“Every day,” the younger man promises, with sparkling stars in his eyes every time he looks at his soulmate. Emmanuel is a gentle, romantic soul and absolutely worships Annie. “Every day for the rest of my life.”

It's haunting, because he knows that it will be true. Just that the life will be cut tragically short and the rift from that time will vibrate through time to affect you. His hand is over yours that is wrapped around his other arm and he squeezes gently. Encouraging and supporting you. "Waltz with her." He tells the other man. "Every chance you get."

“I shall have to have a few pointers from you on that front,” Emmanuel chuckles. “I have never claimed to excel at dancing, although I do enjoy it.”

“I will give you lessons.” Max promises, unsure of when the horrible events with Emmanuel went down.

“And I will sing your praises to all of society for it.” Annie giddily leads Emmanuel to the open door of her parents’ box and takes your hand to have you sit beside her. “Not that you need my help. Your wife is a favorite of Mrs. Astor now.”

"Except Dolly never wants friends because of how they benefit her." Max explains. "My wife is a very loving and loyal creature. She has friends because of how they make her feel. And you are one of her dearest."

“I’m sure we should all benefit from such a shining example.” Emmanuel praises, smiling at how Annie reaches across to hug you tightly just before the lights begin to dim over the audience assembled for tonight’s performance.

One thing that Max doesn’t care for in this time, is the fact that to show too much affection is frowned upon. He releases your hand and wishes he could wrap his arm around you, but he doesn’t wish to cause a scandal, so he leans back and waits for the performance to begin.

Unbeknownst to both of you, wishing the very same thing, you slip your hand into his to thread your fingers together in his lap. This time may discourage public shows of affection, but your relationship does not. It’s all about balance.

Max looks down at your hands and smiles, catching your gaze when he looks up and he winks at you. Loving that you are in tune with him and his body leans in closer to you as the first lines are sung.

Carmen is a stunning opera. Dramatic, groundbreaking, emotional, and inspiring. By the time intermission comes you’ve been on the edge of your seat. The first half of the show has left both you and Annie breathless in the best way possible and your heart is hammering with it when the lights come up.

Max stands, helping you from your seat and he smiles at the dreamy expression on your face. "I can tell this will be a tradition now." He teases, having enjoyed himself immensely even though he had also been observing everyone else in the theatre as well.

“Modern operas have subtitles,” you assure him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “So you can follow along in English and not have to fight through the French or German or Italian.”

"How do they put subtitles on a live performance?" Max asks seriously.

“Screens.” Although the visual of actors with lyrics written on cards makes you grin as you whisper to him. “We’ll go. You’ll love how swanky it is, though nothing is swankier than chatting with the Astors at intermission and having dinner and dancing with the Vanderbilts afterward.”

"I don't think that we would ever be able to top this." Max admits with a grin, shrugging slightly.

“For now, let’s just enjoy it.” You hum, squeezing his hand again as you lean into his side. In this time, these people — they take their summers and seek out the beaches and the grandeur of Europe or beauty of mountains. And it’s clear to you after just a short amount of time that both you and Max love it here, but it isn’t where you belong. Perhaps, though? Just perhaps…you might take a leaf out of their book. And like the socialites of Gilded Age New York City take their summers away from home, you and Max might one day to decide to ‘summer’ in the Gilded Age. “For now, let’s go see the Astors.”

"Your wish is my command, my dear, sweet wife." He coos, smirking at you as the two of you glide down the stairs to the lobby. Refreshements are being served and no doubt you will have to leave his side to attend to your needs in the toilet, but for now, he will be satisfied by escorting the most beautiful woman in the room around.

Annie and Emmanuel elect to stay behind in the box and you don’t say a damn thing, preferring to just let them have their time to flirt and whisper back and forth while you and Max go and mingle. A glass of lemonade is procured for you so that no well-meaning friend or acquaintance will attempt to offer you wine out of politeness, and soon you spot the Astors at the center of a crush of admirers.

It takes a few moments for them to move through the crowd, too many people stopping to chit chat with her and her husband, but soon enough Lina is standing in front of you and pulls you in for a quick, fierce hug. "I am so glad you came." She whispers.

“How could we possibly turn down the invitation?” It doesn’t matter whether you mean the invitation from her or from your grandparents. Either way, you are here. “Are you enjoying it so far?”

"I did not think that I would, but I am immensely enjoying it." William skirts around the trains on your dresses and shakes Max's hand, speaking to him quietly as Lina chats with you.

“He’s enjoying himself here.” The two of you now your heads to murmur between you as though you were simply gossiping. “I think we might try to come back, if I can get the hang of traveling back and forth.”

"That would be wonderful." She squeezes your hand gently. "William and I would be willing to host you anytime you wished to visit." She promises quietly.

“And if you ever wanted to come forward, we would be glad to have you.” You promise her just as earnestly.

"Perhaps one day." She hums. "Although I believe that William is a bit...stuck in his ways." She offers with a small smile.

“We have an excellent staff.” A wry smile on your lips twists her way. “He would be treated the way he is accustomed. I promise.” By the very same people who currently care for him anytime they visit your grandparents, but you can’t say so here.

The glass of punch in Lina's hand is quickly drained and she fans herself. "I must excuse myself." She hums. "Unless you also need to use the facilities?"

“I’ll follow you.” You drink the petite glass of lemonade easily and set it on the tray of a waiter passing by before turning to Max. “We’ll be right back, love.”

"Of course, my love." He smiles at you and nods, watching as you and Lina Astor walk off.

Around two corners, it is not the busy, central bathroom that Mrs. Astor leads you toward but rather a smaller and more concealed one that she seemingly has special privilege to use. The attendant inside even offers her a polite smile but departs after you both step in the door.

"Now, you seemingly have a glow about you that wasn't there before." Lina eyes you with a knowing smirk before she moves over towards the mirror to check her hair.

"I have no idea what you mean." Is a complete but polite lie, and you have to stifle a smile as you peak into the mirror beside her. Not that you would know how to fix your hair even if you tried. Renee had put more pins in it than should ever even exist together on earth.

Even though it's thoroughly unladylike and she would never do such a thing in public, Lina snorts and rolls her eyes. "You are aware I have five children, correct?" She hums. "I know when someone has been naughty."

"We're married!" You defend, even though that isn't technically true, but the fact that you've just been called out by Lina Astor for getting it on practically makes you double over laughing. "Surely the Gilded Age isn't so prim that they look down on that sort of thing?"

"Again, I have five children." She teases and winks at you in the mirror. "All we have for entertainment is fucking. Especially in the winter."

This time you can't swallow it, snorting in amusement and shaking your head at her. "It was the first time," you admit a little sheepishly. "So I'm still a little...giggly, I guess?"

"Obviously the boy was good to you," She eyes you carefully and approves of the starry glaze to your eyes. Since she was a child of the sixties, she was a little more liberal in her views of sex and love and had been fortunate enough to teach William what she likes. Her own children were carefully guided but it was freeing to talk about this with another modern woman. "It's a good thing. I would hate to slap his shins with my walking stick."

"There's no need for that." Although the mental image is fairly amusing. "I'm very lucky to have him for my soulmate." Typically you would adjust your makeup. Or the way your shirt is hanging on your body. But since you've been pinned within an inch of your life and aren't wearing any makeup at all, all you can do is stand there and feel the intense heat in your cheeks while you talk to Lina. "He's very— he takes good care of me. In every way."

"Good." She offers you a small smile. "I feel that a good relationship, a good marriage is a partnership." She huffs slightly. "Although in this time, some men might not appreciate that, but a woman's part of her husband's life either adds value or causes stress." She smirks. "It is up to his attitude on what that might be."

"Thankfully, Max's misogyny is all show at this point in his life. He's spent enough time in board rooms and business meetings that he can blend in, but at home it's a partnership." Since you're standing in front of the mirror anyway, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress and make sure you're in one piece before turning away. "I'm glad that your soulmate seems to have been enlightened a little on the way things can be."

Lina chuckles and tilts her head. "History books do not show it, but honestly? Women control much more than the men would have believed. If a wife is unhappy, he will receive cold tea, sour brandy, his cigars 'disappear'." She lifts a brow at you and smirks. "Itching powder in his long johns."

"Happy wife, happy life," you laugh, absolutely loving what you're hearing from her. "And I hope you taught all of this to your girls, too?"

"Absolutely." She tuts and shoots you a grin. "And my daughters-in-law."

"Brilliant." You can't help thinking that every one of these encounters is going to make a hilarious set of stories to tell Allison when you finally get back, and you are just constantly filing away little bits of information as you go. "Absolutely brilliant."

She grins before she nods towards the stall. "If you'll excuse me, I have to wrestle with my petticoats to go to the bathroom before intermission is over."

"I wish you all the luck in the world." It gets a laugh from both of you, and you nod to the door. "Enjoy the second half of the show, Lina. I'm going to go track down our soulmates."

"Before you go." Lina stops at the stall door and looks back at you. "The book is coming along fabulously. It will be ready on time."

"You're very kind to make the copy." You soften a little at the reminder of it, feeling the ache of gratitude in your chest. "I can't imagine it's the sort of thing that is easy to share with just anyone. I promise it will be in good hands."

"I have no doubt." She hums. "My daughters are not terribly interested in magic right now, so it will be a relief to know that the knowledge might be passed down if none change their minds."

"I promise." Instinctively, you make at 'x' over your heart with your finger and are grateful that the gesture can be shared with someone who doesn't think you're incredibly odd or childish for doing it. You say your good night here, figuring that you won't be have the time to say anything appropriate later on when the opera gets out and you're swept away to dinner, and go back out to the lobby to find Max before intermission is over.

“Hey Dolly.” It’s not as if he were staked out by the bathrooms, but Max has been looking out for you. “Refreshed?”

"Refreshed, and a bit teased." You take his arm when he offers it and start back toward your seats. "Mrs. Astor noticed how particularly happy we are tonight."

“Our wedded blissful status was noticed?” Max preens smugly and he waggles his eye brows. “Or are you just walking funny?”

"Even if I was, you wouldn't be able to tell under all these petticoats." The slight smirk on your face is a beaming smile all over again and you lean into his side as you walk. "Yes, our bliss was noted. Which means I'm sure it was by other people too. But I don't give a damn. If anything, they should be very jealous of me." For last night, and also for this morning. Max had decided to wake you up before the rest of the house began their day, and he did it with his head — and then his cock — between your legs.

“We could always fit a quicky in during intermission.” He suggests, cock twitching in his trousers.

"Intermission's almost over." And while he may be quick, you're enjoying taking your time with him.

He pouts, but he knows that the scandal would be more attention that you would want to bring down on yourselves. “Next time.” He promises and offers his arm.

"Next time." There is no doubt in your mind that there will be a next time, and that gives you a sense of anticipation that you can't deny loving. "Of course, I'm not saying that when we get home tonight, that there won't be time then..."

“No?” He arches a brow. “What are we doing when we get home?”

The box attendant is in sight and there are people around you, but you know his hearing is far better than anyone else’s in this opera house tonight so you whisper with a barely contained smirk. “It’s a very good night for a ride. Don’t you think?”

He grunts and his brow goes up even higher. “You mean-“ he waggles his brows and leans in. “I’m your horsey?”

It probably shouldn’t, but the endearing silliness of Max’s choice of phrasing makes you almost snort when you laugh, and you squeeze his arm as the attendant opens the door for you to return to the box just as the bell rings to tell patrons to return to their seats. “Yes, love,” you snicker and shake your head in amusement. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Oh goody.” The playfulness is simple to keep the gorgeous smile on your face, but if he had his way, he would be ordering the carriage be brought around.

“It’s our reward for a very productive evening in society,” you decide, although that’s just the excuse. In reality, now that you’ve had a taste of Max? You’re addicted.

Max chuckles and helps you into your seat. Annie and Emmanuel are positively beaming and Max doesn’t miss the way both of them are a bit mussed. “Ready for the second act?”

“Terribly excited for it.” Annie hums, trying and failing to look as innocent as possible.

His eyes slide over to you and he makes a face. Not believing your mother for a second.

The face you make back very distinctly reminds him that’s my mother! but it’s none of your business. You face forward as the lights come down again and make the executive personal decision not to say a goddamn thing. At least, not right now.

Max smirks and reaches over, lacing his fingers through yours. "Remember..." He coos in your ear. "Technically her daughter is getting railed right under her nose as well." He teases playfully.

You can’t help it — cracking a guilty but extremely pleased grin and letting out a small laugh as the lights come back down. He’s right, of course, even if Annie doesn’t know what you really are to her. “Behave yourself,” you chastise, barely even meaning it, and lean over to kiss him.

"Naaaaaah." He kisses you happily and winks. "What fun would that be?" There's a sense of freedom in being able to tease you, to see you light up when his corniness comes out and it makes Max adore you even more. "Now watch your opera." He chides as the lantern lights are lowered again, as if he wasn't the distraction all along.

******

It quickly becomes apparent, as soon as just a few minutes into dinner, that you have made friends with the loving-if-slightly-snobby branch of the Vanderbilt family. Any and all attempts at conversation with Mrs. Willie K. Vanderbilt — gods forbid anyone call her Alva — is met with one upmanship and a quality of narcissism that you have rarely encountered in real life. There are a lot of truly terrible people who would have loved Alva Vanderbilt, and that thought makes you shudder. Instead, you come away from dinner and dancing in that house very glad to be unlaced and untied from all of your layers and flop down on the bed in your dressing gown to wait for Max to come upstairs. Cornelius had sidelined him about something or other when you back to the house and you can’t wait to have him back in your arms.

“Is there anything else you wish tonight, Mrs. Phillips?” Renee asks, just inside the doorway so she doesn’t intrude on your relaxation. “Tea, perhaps?”

“Nothing tonight, Renee. Thank you.” As warm and gossipy and giggly as you got to be with 21st century Renee, you’re worried about saying too much in front of her in this time. In this place. So you just try to be as polite and appreciative as humanly possible every day. “I think Mr. Phillips and I are going to take a long walk in the park tomorrow, and I know that Annie is planning on doing a little shopping, so you should have some time to yourself tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Phillips.” Even if she doesn’t smile, the nod is polite and her expression has softened. “If there is nothing else, I will wish you a good evening.”

“Good night, Renee.” In lieu of being able to embrace your friend, you offer her a heartfelt smile and climb into bed, armed with a book from the library to read until Max appears.

After a nightcap that Max did not enjoy, and some stimulating business talk that did, he is finally climbing the stairs to the wing where you are waiting for him. Taking his time and hating it because of the human staff in the Vanderbilt household, he is eager to get behind closed doors with you.

Max slips in the door and grins as he shuts it behind him, flicking the lock behind him. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey.” Your book goes down in your lap immediately and you can’t help but beam a smile at him. “What did Cornelius have to say?”

Max smirks, shrugging out of his jacket and laying it over the back of the chair in the sitting area. "Wanted to bend my ear about a project he was considering."

“Oh?” You know he loves the fact that these powerful men are taking his opinion seriously, and you smile a little brighter. “What project was that?”

"There's a tract of land that is for sale that he was considering." He shrugs slightly. "Wanted to know if I was familiar with North Carolina."

“So more than one Vanderbilt was looking ably building down there? Interesting.” Shifting over in bed makes extra room for him. But it’s not that he’ll need it. The second he gets in beside you, you’ll be cuddled up anyway.

"Maybe." Max leans a hip on the writing desk and shrugs. "Or the land sits unused until that estate is built."

"Maybe." It’s not as if either of you is a Vanderbilt historian. It could be anything. "History will tell. But for now...are you coming to bed?"

"Absolutely." Max smirks and within seconds, he's standing bare in front of the bed, looking down at you.

“Show off.” It’s endearing, though, and you grab his hand to pull him into bed with you.

He snickers and winks as he presses close, ducking his head and pressing his lips to yours.

For the first time, you pull back from Max’s kiss abruptly and frown, feeling anxiety rise in your throat. “Did you—um—is that—” It’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe. It’s not the end of the world. Take deep, long breaths. “Did you…have a drink? Before you came up?”

Max's brows furrow for a second, wondering why you are pulling back but then he winces. Cornelius wouldn't take no for an answer, so he had quickly tippled back a disgusting drink. "I- uh, he- he wanted a nightcap." Max rushes to explain. "I refused but he insisted and it would have been- uh, rude to refuse."

“Oh…um…okay.” Despite you saying it, and nodding profusely, there is a spark in your fingertips and anxiety rolling down your spine. “Would you…” About to ask him if he minds brushing his teeth, a bubble of fear opens in your throat and the words get swallowed. “N-Never mind. Never mind.”

Max frowns, not liking the way your suddenly turned stiff and hesitant. “Dol-” he stops talking and he closes his mouth. Realizing that you can smell the alcohol. “Shit.”

“I know you’re not drunk.” But that doesn’t stop the fear from settling deep into your bones where it lived for so long.

"I should have refused." He shakes his head and pulls way, slipping out of the bed and backing away from it. "I'll go brush my teeth and...." He doesn't know what he can do to reassure you, but it feels like he's failed you. Without another word, he disappears.

Oddly, the feeling of panic in your body is less actual fear of him, and more fear of the feeling. You know in your mind and heart that Max would never hurt you. Fuck — you let him drink from you last night. But the gut reaction of terror behind smelling alcohol in his breath makes you afraid that you’ll always be afraid, and that’s the reason that you’re turned over on your pillow shaking subtly and trying not to sob as he goes into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Max is cursing himself for not thinking about brushing his teeth earlier. He knows you don't like alcohol and why but he hadn't even thought of it. Alcohol has zero effect on him and honestly it had tasted horrible. "So fucking stupid." He hisses at himself.

“I’m sorry.” As soon as he walks back into the room you’re apologizing, and it seems like you’ve reverted back to simply apologizing for existing, but the truth is more complicated. The sparks from your fingers had started arcing while he was in the bathroom, and now they’ve created a sort of woven magic protective blanket around you that you did not conjure on purpose nor do you know how to get rid of. “I don’t know what’s happening.” The fear is for this now, as fear starts to be the most dominant emotion in your mind all over again.

Max frowns and his eyes widen as he starts to take a step towards you it's like an invisible barrier has been set up between you. "You don't need to be sorry." He shake his head, lifting a hand to try to push against the barrier. "It's my fault sweetheart. Mine. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

“I didn’t do this,” you rush to promise him, as bound on your side of the barrier as he is on his. As confused and shocked by its appearance as he surely is. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"It's okay, we- we'll figure this out." He promises, holding up his hands and backing away from the barrier. "Are you- do you think it's because of me?"

“I think it’s—it’s like the woods—” Thinking back to the fear you’d felt in the woods, it was like your magic had been called up out of necessity. Things had been unlocking in your mind for weeks now but you didn’t fully understand any of it. How could you, when it had been kept away from you for so long? “Like…my magic is trying to protect me?”

"From me..." Max whispers, looking devastated at that prospect. "I- I'm going to go get Annie." He decides and turns around to throw a dressing gown and pants on to rush from the room so he doesn't shock your mother.

******

Knocking on a door is a simple thing. Simple enough, anyway. But Annie Brown — sitting quietly in bed with a book and a cup of tea — is immediately convinced that someone has brought a battering ram to the second floor of the Vanderbilt’s home. She pushes everything aside and wraps herself in her robe before pulling the door open in concern. “Max?” Her eyes are wide, having expected that racket to be nothing less than the news that the house was on fire. “What is it? You look…rather upset. Is everything alright?”

"It- it's Dolly." He shakes his head and rushes to explain. "Her magic. It's- it- there's a barrier." He doesn't know what the hell she can do, but hopefully she can help you break the spell. "Because of me."

“Can’t she dispel it?” Even as she asks the question, Annie is already shifting back into her room to put in her slippers and follow Max out into the hallway. “What do you mean it’s because of you? What happened?”

"I- Dolly doesn't like drinking." He huffs, embarrassed by this. "Her- it's not a pleasant memory for her and Mr. Vanderbilt wanted a nightcap." He explains. "She- when she smelled the drink on me, she was upset." The two of them hurry towards the rooms he was sharing with you. "When I came out of the bathroom there was a barrier between us. She said she didn't do it."

"She doesn't have much experience with her magic." Annie knows that. You haven't talked about magic very much together, but you've said just enough to her for her to know that. "I will do anything that I can." She rushes upstairs with Max and follows him to your door, not knowing which one to find you behind.

"Dolly....I- I brought Annie." Max pushes the door opened and lets your mother, another witch, go inside ahead of him. Hoping that it would be for naught and you would be sitting there embarrassed and with no barrier around you. Obviously not the case since you still have a shimmery essence around you. "Oh fuck, it's still there." He hisses.

“Mo—Annie!” With your blood pulsing in your ears and panic in your throat, you barely manage to stop yourself from calling her Mom, but the tears running down your face don’t care what you call her so long as she helps. “What’s happening?” You beg, as though she could know the answer as soon as she’s walked in the door. “It’s a protection spell.” Clearly you had already figured that out, but Annie feels the need to assure you since you seem terrified. “And Max says you didn’t do this on purpose?” “No.” You shake your head adamantly and try to remember to breathe. “Ever since I arrived in—in—in Newport…my magic has been haywire.”

Biting his lip in worry, Max wishes he could go back in time and fix his mistake. He closes his eyes and sighs, wondering if you have now subconsciously linked him with your ex, the same danger. "I- I'll - I should go."

“No!” The last thing you want is for him to leave. He hasn’t hurt you and he wouldn’t hurt you, and you’re going to prove that to yourself — to your magic — somehow. “Stay, love. Please stay?”

He swallows, even though he doesn't really have to and looks around. "I - I don't know if I should." He admits quietly. "This happened because of me."

“If this happened because of you, my dear friend, then it might also undo because of you.” With the door carefully closed and locked behind her, Annie moves to the side of the bed to be as close to you as she can be while the magical barrier has you firmly protected. “Will one of you please explain to me what happened? In detail?”

Max looks over at you and senses the hesitation in your eyes. The fear of blurting out too much. "Dolly's ex used to abuse her when he drank." He admits quietly. "She doesn't like alcohol. He- he attacked her once and she managed to save herself with her magic." He rubs his hands on his pants. "When she smelled the drink on me...I guess she panicked and thought that I was like him. Or maybe her magic took over to protect her from me."

"Ex?" Annie questions the term, wanting to make sure that she understands completely. "A lover. Before—before I found Max." Gods if she only knew how much more uncomfortable this conversation is for you. You just can't afford to dwell on that right now, as you just remind yourself to breathe through the fear. "I don't think Max would ever hurt me, it's like...like my magic just jumped out of me on instinct." "Oh my..." Annie crosses her arms, looking between you and Max with concern and care written across her features. "It seems...that is, it sounds...as though you have been spellbound, my dear."

“What does that mean?” Max frowns, relieved that Annie knows what is happening but not sure it’s a good thing.

"It means that at some point in your wife's life," Annie purses her lips together, squeezing her arms around her own waist in concern. "Another witch did not trust her to wield her magic carefully. A powerful witch." Whimpering in discomfort under your magical blanket, you could scream for the irony of the thing. "My parents." The irony is terrible, but more than that, you're distinctly afraid that this might give you away. After all, some spells can only be undone by those who have cast them.

“And what do we do? What happened? How do I help my wife?” He demands.

"There are three choices," Annie tells you both, chewing on her bottom lip as she inspects the nearly invisible edges of your barrier with interest. "The simplest would be to have the witch who cast the spell unravel it. Without that option, either Dolly must break through the spell with her own force, or a witch more powerful than the original caster must break it for us."

Max knows that all of those things are impossible. He cannot give up your true relationship to your mother, and he knows you don’t trust yourself enough to break it yourself. You’re still so unused to magic. And your grandmother had already admitted through her letters that your mother was a more powerful witch than her. There was possibly another option. “What if the threat was no longer around?” He asks Annie quietly.

She sighs, understanding, but shakes her head. "You left the room and the barrier remained. I do not think this is about you as much as you fear it is."

“That’s- it’s not what I meant.” His eyes are haunted, heavy with emoting and he refuses to look over at you. “I left but I was still here.” He rationalizes. “Would she- would it work if I- I- um, wasn’t?”

"Don't you dare." There is gravel in your voice. A growl that is as unfamiliar to you as it is to them, but at least you know where it comes from. From the very bottom of your soul, where you know you wouldn't survive this world without him. You aren't as strong as your mother. Not by a longshot. Life without your soulmate is impossible now that you've found him. "You're staying right here and we'll find another way." It's like a magical weighted blanket, holding you to the bed, and all you can manage to do is shake your head at him. "Promise me. Promise me you won't do that."

Max frowns and he huffs seriously. “What if it’s the only way?” He demands quietly. “I- it’s worth it to me.” He admits. “For you.”

"It's not the only way." You would rather give up every ounce of truth to your mother than lose him. Break your promise to your grandfather and risk unknown complications. You would rather gamble with the world than lose Max. "A—Annie can dispel it." "I can?" She wheels around, looking at you as though you have just nominated her for queendom — disbelief and a touch of pride in her voice. As though she were touched that you would think so well of her. "Yes." A shaky breath comes with your nod, because you aren't technically lying but it feels that way. "The daughter of a powerful witch and a vampire? You must be able to."

“I don’t know if I am able to.” She worries, frowning as she looks between an equally devastated husband and wife. “But I will try.” She turns her head and pins Max with a stare. “Do not do anything foolish.” She cautions. “If you upset Dolly, it could provoke her magic even more.”

“Please help.” There is something about asking your own mother for help when you’re scared that makes your chest tighten, but stead of more fear it’s nearly nostalgia. Like being a little girl all over again. Except as a little girl you had had no idea that your own parents had spellbound you.

Annie frowns and nods, “of course I will help you.” She rushes to assure you “However I can.”

“Tell us what to do.” It’s entirely possible she doesn’t know, but you has to believe that she has some kind of idea. Otherwise the ace in your sleeve is calling Lina Astor to the house in the middle of the night.

“Think about touching Max.” Annie bites her lip and pushes the sleeves of her nightgown back after removing her robe. Moving towards the barrier. “Visualize it in your head.”

That is the easiest thought to have in the world, and you reach out to him under the shimmering barrier instinctively. “Um…right…” She said visualize, and you obediently close your ideas and imagine being in his arms instead.

Annie swallows harshly and turns to Max. “Give me a drop of your blood.” She demands, holding out her palm flat.

You watch with worried eyes as Max complies immediately, letting his fangs out to puncture the skin on his fingertip so a single, full bead of dark red blood wells up above his skin.

Annie thinks back to every lesson her mother has taught her, aware that this is probably the most important magic that she has ever done. “Thank you Max.” She whispers, flashing him a reassuring smile as she turns back to the barrier. Closing her eyes, she starts the incantation, hoping that she is strong enough to undo the spell with Max’s blood as an aid.

The barrier starts to vibrate around you as Annie murmurs her incantation low and steady. You can't even hear the words from a few feet away, but you can feel the affect that they're having. The barrier bends around you, the magic that was shimmering now starting to blink abruptly and then flash like bursting lightbulbs.

There's nothing more that Max wishes for on this earth than for this to work. He bites his lip, not bothering to heal his wound on his hand. Watching with baited breath, even though he doesn't breathe as the barrier continues to twist around you.

Words like reverse and shine and will and power spill from your mother's lips as the temperature in the room drops. An imperceptible chill floods the space. Not a breeze or a draft, but a chill that settles into bones and sets hooks into hearts. The cold takes hold even in Max, who has been technically icy to the touch for years. The colder you get the more you concentrate on that feeling of touching Max's cool skin with your own warm hands. The way his kisses warm against your lips. The way it made moving under him last night feel even more powerful, friction and heat and the rush of pleasure in both of your bodies making him feel warm for the first time since he was turned.

"Dolly." He murmurs quietly, stepping forward and wishing that he can just pull you out. "Please." he closes his eyes. " I need you." He's helpless and he hates that. Strong, fast, and resilient, but there is nothing he can right now but watch your mother try to undo the spell that binds you. That has you wrapped up and pulling away from him.

"Talk to her, Max." Annie gets a rush of energy back at her when he does, as though your magic responds to his voice instinctively. "About anything. Anything happy."

"I want to waltz with you again." Max tells you honestly. "I want to waltz with you every day. I missed today. I should have swept you up into my arms when you were folded into that beautiful dress you were wearing tonight."

“Tonight wasn’t your fault.” There had been so many other guests at dinner that your dances had been taken up by the other gentlemen, and Alice had sung Max’s praises as a dancer so that the ladies had very nearly stood in line for him. It was a pleasure to watch him be so sought after. To see the way his eyes found you on the dance floor regardless of his partner and know that you would be the one sharing a bed with him tonight. He thrives on feeling wanted and valued, and you never would have taken that from him.

“Still….” Max shrugs. “I only want to dance with you, Queenie.”

“I love you, too.” You shift forward without realizing it, instinctively wanting to be closer to him, and gasp softly when you realize the barrier has moved the tiniest bit. “Oh gods…I think it’s actually working!”

He can only hope. Max steps a fraction of an inch closer to you and continues on. "I want to travel with you. See the world. Experience everything with you." He takes comfort in the fact that Annie is aware of vampires, is the daughter of one, so he doesn't have to censor himself. "Watch the world change with you."

“When you see the barrier start to come apart,” Annie pants with effort but concentrates, pausing her incantation to give you instruction. “Try to pull at it. Like you’re picking apart embroidery. Max, keep talking to her.”

“Our lives are going to be perfect.” Max tells you desperately. “If we can have children, I’ll give you as many as you want. Gorgeous little girls, who look like you and handsome little boys who have your sweetness.”

As Annie chants and Max makes endless promises, the barrier binding you to the bed loosens slightly in halting amounts. It waves like oceans waves and turns a vibrant, flashing purple. It squeezes you tight, as if trying to retain control, but you keep your eyes closed and concentrate on imagining all of the things that Max is promising. Your life together. Your happiness. If you can let go of everything else, maybe you can grab at the happiness. “Good!” Annie cries, seeing you move under the waves of magic. “Open your eyes, Dolly. You have to take it apart yourself.” The magic has bent to your mother’s will — or what you have to assume was her will — and looks now like pearlescent threads of satin ribbon fraying in every direction across your body. It is not the neat, directed weaving you expected but knotted and gnarled tangles of wispy white, and you immediately grab at the nearest knot to find it astonishingly solid in your hands as you furiously work it open to release the threads.

Max steps forward. “You can do it, sweetheart. I know you can. Please do it.” He begs quietly.

The only other time in your life that you have broken through the barrier of your magic was for Max. To protect him. And now you understand why your attempt at a protection barrier didn’t work at all — because you’ve been surrounded by one for most of your life. Fear is what made you leap into action last time. Fear that something would happen to take Max away from you. Even if you knew in the most logical parts of your mind that a bullet could not kill him — you feared it. And fearing that one drink could turn Max into the same monster Derek was, while illogical, is the definition of a knee jerk reaction. Every single thread you grasp is a reminder to yourself that it won’t happen. That alcohol has no effect on Max. That the dangers of the pst will never repeat themselves. Every knot you grasp, tugging at the strands of your gnarled fears, is a step toward being stronger. For Max.

“Come to me baby.” He begs, holding out his arms to you as you attempt to break through the barrier. “I choose you, I’ll always choose you over everything.”

“I—I’ll always choose you, too.” Your fingers dig into the knot of magical threads at the heart of the barrier, feeling the way the power — your power, untouched and unwielded — bends and droops at your words. The threads don’t merely break, they seep into your skin like sun rays and light you from the inside. Annie and Max watch in awe as every shred of magic untangles itself after that large knot, absorbing into your mind and body so thoroughly that you begin to glow.

“Beautiful.” Max whispers, completely enthralled by how powerful you are. A wind that doesn’t come from anywhere ruffles your nightgown and blows around you. A byproduct of the magic being harnessed and absorbed by you.

“Gods above…” Annie presses one hand over her heart, watching in awe as you take the last threads of your binding apart. You look like an angel, and she cannot tell why but her heart aches over the image of it. “Max!” Throwing yourself forward is easy now, as though you could simply fly wherever you needed to go without any effort, and you launch yourself toward your soulmate with one hand outstretched to bring your mother close as well.

Max cradles you, wrapping up in the security of his arms with palpable relief. He had honestly worried that it wouldn't work, that he would be separated from you. Now the warmth of your body is surrounding him and all he can feel is like you've come home.

Characterizing it as crying would be an understatement. What you are doing is weeping into Max’s shoulder as you cling to both him and your young mother in sheer relief. It feels, for the first time since you were a child, like you are whole again, with a in one of magic running in your veins alongside your blood. There is no other way to explain it — you feel whole again. For her part, Annie hugs you tightly, tears of effort and - yes - more relief in her own eyes. She cannot explain why she feels so close to you, but now it feels even more important that the two of you had met. “We should discuss this with my mother when we return home,” she murmurs, knowing that her mother is a far more power witch than she is at this time. “I wish I knew other witches nearby to consult. But you must learn to control your powers. They will act out, now that they are free.”

Max frowns, concerned. “She will.” He promises Annie. “She will, even if I have to learn magic myself.”

“Lina.” You remind him, not wanting Max to think that he has to take the entire world into his shoulders. “We should go and see Lina tomorrow. She might be able to help.”

Annie frowns slightly and pulls back. "Lina Astor?" She asks curiously. "Oh- I had completely forgotten." She admits, huffing slightly. "She is a very accomplished witch. And when we go home, mother will be a boon to you."

“Thank you.” Putting aside completely the fact that it was most likely Annie herself who spellbound you as a child, you high her tightly in thanks now. Without her here, who knows if you ever would have figured out what had happened or been able to break the enchantment at all. It might have been a lost cause without her incantation.

“You are most welcomed.” She hum, pulling back and biting her lip. “For now…perhaps you should have your soulmate hypnotize you.” She suggest. “To relax you.”

“I’ve…we’ve never…” you glance at Max curiously. “Does that work?”

Max winces, but nods. “The powers I have…I could make you do anything.”

“Then maybe a relaxing night’s sleep is the thing after all.” Hugging Annie tightly once more, you sit back and realize how truly exhausted you feel in the moment and huff a laugh at yourself. “Though I may not need you to do anything more than tuck me in, love.”

"If she's not needing it, I would rather not hypnotize her." Max admits. "It takes away her free will and I don't want to do that."

“Your love is very clear.” Annie nods in understanding, though her own mind is racing and she very much doubts her sleep with be restful. But her exhaustion is different from yours.

"Thank you for your help." Max takes her hands and kisses the back of them profusely. "Thank you." He repeats. "I'll escort you back to your room as soon as I get Dolly settled." He promises.

“I know my way.” She assures him, not wanting you to have to be left alone even for a few minutes. Not after what you’ve just undergone. “I’m glad you’re well, Dolly. That we could figure out what was wrong.”

Max sends her a grateful look and closes the door behind her after she slips out. He hadn't want to leave you, couldn't stand the thought, and now he doesn't have to. "Dolly..." He murmurs quietly, turning back and looking at you with nothing but pure relief.

“I’m sorry.” The words are out of your mouth immediately, and you practically throw yourself at him again to hug the proverbial breath out of him. “I know you wouldn’t have hurt me. And I know I’ve said that you could have a drink if you wanted. It just took me off guard and I panicked.”

"No." He shakes his head and holds you tight. "You have nothing to be sorry for." His hand moves up and down your back. "Not one goddamn thing. This is on me." He tells you. "My mistake that you nearly paid for."

“It’s done now.” That’s the important part, after all. That it’s over and that you’re both safe, and you can have your arms around him now. “Are…are you okay? I know I scared you, but…I scared me, too.”

"I think my heart stopped." Max jokes dryly.

“Har Har.” You intone, rolling your eyes at him to continue diffusing the tension left in the room. “Thank the gods Mom was here.”

"Yeah...thank God." He murmurs quietly, deciding to let the fact that your mother was the one who most likely put the spell on you lie. "Let's get you to bed, Queenie, you look like you are about to pass out."

“I’m exhausted.” In fact you’re nodding without evening meaning to, and halfway to sitting in the mattress already.

"You should be." Max whispers as he quickly lays you down and climbs into the bed beside you and pulls you close. "You did something amazing. Something I would never believe if I didn't see it for myself."

“I don’t even believe it.” You mumble, letting Max pull you in close and wrap you up tight in the safety of his arms. “I thought spellbinding was a myth. A magical boogeyman than witches threaten their kids with. I didn’t know it was real.”

"Surprise." He huffs sarcastically, shaking his head and slowly starting to rub your back.

"Will you rest tonight?" The last thing you want is for him to sit up worrying, but you know you're on the verge of crashing and won't be able to stop him one way or another. What matters to you more than anything is that he tries to rest.

"I'll try, sweetheart." He promises, unable to guarantee anything right now. Nothing expect he needs to hold you. "You just sleep." He whispers. "I'll be right here, watching over you and making sure nothing happens to you."

"I love you." And having that love for one of the things that goes bump in the night means you sleep a little more deeply in his arms. In the waking hours, you'll have to seek out more help in harnessing your magic. Tonight? Max's arms are all you need.

______

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underdark-dreams · 5 months

Text

[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today.

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape.

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight.

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?"

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head.

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat.

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight."

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it.

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment.

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest.

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days.

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder.

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—”

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now.

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower.

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this.

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door.

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack.

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him.

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across.

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact.

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?”

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word.

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied.

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression.

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.”

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.”

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her.

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?”

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position.

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same.

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired.

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

#rolan x tav #can you feel how close they are to [redacted]#the fluffiest angst #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #sage and soldier #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 10 months

Text

Note: I can't leave my fave fighter alone... so here's part 4 of the Fighter fic. Also I've proof read this, but I am incredibly tired, so big chance there are loads of mistaktes; I am sorry.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3.

Warnings: angst/fluff. suggestive, mentions of blood, panic attack, slight violence.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric took you to Hawaii, and your relationship would get tested, once again.

wordcount: 3,6k

Masterlist

'Honey, can't we just go somewhere… casual?'

The air in your hotel room was thick with the sounds of heavy breaths, soft giggles, and Sihtric's sweet, dirty whispers in your ear. Soft moans escaped you both every so often.

His muscular arms around your bare shoulders, one hand in your hair, keeping you close while you felt him inside you as you sat in his lap. Your legs hooked around his waist, face buried in his neck while rocking your hips against his, with your arms wrapped around him.

'I love you, and how tight you feel,' Sihtric whispered in your ear, smiling, 'gods, I love my beautiful wife.'

You giggled as Sihtric chuckled softly, his ragged breath tickling your neck along with his long, loose hair.

'And I love you, my husband,' you smiled, eyes closed, just enjoying the feeling of his warm, damp body pressed against yours while you made slow, passionate love.

'I'm so fucking lucky, baby,' he sighed, 'I love you so… so much. You're perfect, you're everything I need in my life.'

You smiled, humming as you slowly ran out of breath, and you leaned your forehead against his, cupping one cheek.

'You're perfect, Sihtric,' you breathed, 'my perfect husband. So hot,' you chuckled lightly and kissed his lips, 'and so sexy,' you giggled when Sihtric looked into your eyes with his half open mismatched pair, 'and so sweet. And you're all mine, champion.'

'All yours,' he nuzzled your nose while his hands trailed down your back, 'I'm all yours, baby,' he whispered and leaned back slightly, watching how you ride him, slowly and sensually, 'so perfect, my love,' Sihtric breathed, slowly licking his lower lip as his hands settled on your hips, 'hmm, yeah, that's really nice,' he smiled, 'my wife is so good to me.'

'All mine,' you smiled, closing your eyes again and biting down on your lip, 'Sihtric Kjartansson,' you chuckled in his ear, 'all. fucking… mine,' you moaned softly.

'All yours, baby girl,' he hummed, 'forever.'

You both gradually started breathing faster, harder, in sync with your movements, and you gently placed your hands on his muscular chest, pushing him to lay down carefully. You were enjoying each other thoroughly, slowly and intensely. You explored every inch of each other's bodies with hands and lips, taking your time. Loving and worshipping each other as newlyweds.

Immediately after you both said 'I do' during your secret beach wedding, you had gone back to the hotel and hadn't left, even though the wedding was two days ago already.

At first, the sex was rough, intense and hard, as well as passionate. Both of you simply filled with adrenaline after getting married, without telling a single soul. But right now, on a hot, sunny, late afternoon in Hawaii, you made the slowest, sweetest and probably most intense love you've ever made.

Sihtric laid down and watched you on top of him, his eyes full of adoration, full of love and most importantly; full of calmness and peace. There was not a single trace of anger inside him right now, only bliss.

Sihtric took your hand in his, and he kissed your wedding ring while you speeded up your pace a little.

'You complete me, baby,' Sihtric whispered. A sudden moan slipped out after he spoke, making you both smile at the unexpected, pleasing sound, and he kissed your ring again, 'you calm me down, bunny, you make me forget about everything, except for you. You're all that matters. I wouldn't want a life without you.'

'Sihtric,' you sighed, smiling, watching him press another kiss to your ring before he placed your hand on his scarred cheek, 'you're all that matters to me, my love. My sweet love,' you leaned in, bringing your body down onto his, moving your fingers up in his hair, 'my everything,' you whispered in his ear, 'I can't imagine a life without you anymore. I love you.'

'And I love you,' Sihtric replied, wrapping his arms around you again and slowly bucking his hips up into yours, 'fuck, I love my wife,' he couldn't stop smiling as he said it.

And it didn't take long until you were both surprised by the unexpected loud, and heavy moans escaping your mouths when you both came, while your love making had been so soft and tender in contrast to the sounds you let out.

'Ready to go, my wife?' Sihtric smiled at you in the mirror, his arms around your waist while you fixed up your hair after the shower you had just taken together. Which you both needed after that intense love making.

'Almost, tiger. Where are we going?'

'No idea,' your husband shrugged, who looked insanely sexy in his white, low cut tank top with the cut out sides.

You loved seeing his body, and you had a weird love-hate relationship with that shirt, because you somehow enjoyed it when other women would stare at your man, because that fine piece of ass was all yours. But you also felt jealous whenever other women would look at him, and you still hadn't found a balance with those two feelings.

'I just hope we can find a place not too crowded,' you said and turned to face Sihtric, who pulled you against his chest.

'I know, bunny, I hope so too,' he pecked your lips, 'you know I don't really like to go out either...'

You both didn't like going out in public, as there would always be people who recognised the man by your side. And you'd always get interrupted because someone wanted a picture or an autograph... Or his number. And some girls even had the audacity to kiss his cheek without asking him first. And Sihtric, always trying to be polite and sweet to his fans, struggled to handle it all as he couldn't say no, worrying that people would think he's a douchebag. He always acts like he doesn't care, and that's not completely fake; he definitely doesn't care what the press think or say about him, or the people who hate him. But he took it to heart if a fan would think he was rude or ungrateful for their support. And the ladies thought it was adorable when he would seemingly become shy after they kissed his cheek, but you knew better. Sihtric wasn't shy, not at all, what they didn't understand was that it was not him being "adorable", it was him shutting down, because he simply does not like to be touched, by anyone, except for you. He'd never wrap an arm around a fan for a photo and never even leaned in, he always kept his distance and just gave a half smile. But most people think they can just touch him and pull him close, because they think they "know" him or have the right to do so, just because he is famous.

'I know,' you sighed and looked away, 'just hope no one will try something,' hinting at a last week, when you were already in Hawaii but not yet married, and had gone for a drink. The evening had gone rather well, until you went to the bathroom and came back to see a group of ladies pushing up to Sihtric. They wanted a picture and felt it was appropriate to shove their hands under his shirt, much to Sihtric's disgace, and you were furious afterwards, not with Sihtric, but with people in general.

'Hey,' Sihtric pushed your chin up towards him, looking down into your eyes, 'you're my wife now, baby, remember that.'

'I'll make sure to remember that when a bimbo kisses your cheek again or touches you up,' you made a face and Sihtric chuckled.

'I always try to avoid that,' he said, 'you know I don't like that either.'

'I know…'

'Good. And you also know that you're the only one who's getting this cock,' Sihtric winked with a smirk and took your hand, placing it on his crotch.

'Yes, but if you want to keep that cock,' you gave him a squeeze, to which he moaned almost desperately, 'you better set boundaries with those fans, or I will set them for you.'

'Y-yeah,' he said, composing himself again, 'you know I'm really working on that.'

'I know, honey,' you held his hands, 'just saying, it's really hard for me to watch them treat you like an object. As if they can just do whatever they want with you, or say whatever they want to you, without your consent or even considering me standing there.'

'I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't ask for any of this either. Just... just stay close, baby?' Sihtric kissed your cheek and embraced you, 'I want you close to me, bunny. Need you by my side, always, but especially in public.'

'I know,' you smiled softly at him, 'but I still think you should get some help for your anxiety, babe, because it's really bad, and it's only gotten worse since that fight at that party. I will always be by your side when I can, but you know I can't always be there.'

'I know,' he sighed, 'when we get back home I'll look into getting help.'

'Promise?' you kissed his lips.

'Promise,' Sihtric kissed your ring and then your lips, 'I promise, my wife.'

'So, where are we going?'

You held Sihtric's hand as you watched the landscape go by from the back of the cab.

'Not sure,' your husband chuckled, 'some fancy place the hotel staff recommended to me a few days ago.'

You sighed quietly. 'Honey, can't we just go somewhere… casual?'

Sihtric looked at you and frowned, 'casual?'

'Like… McDonalds,' you scoffed.

'Babe,' he laughed, 'I… I mean...'

'You know I really appreciate you wanting to take me to these expensive places but it's… it's not me. I always feel so out of place,' you said softly.

'And so do I,' Sihtric said, 'but at least in those places I know the chances of us getting bothered is not that high. But, I mean, if you want to go somewhere else, you know I don't mind. I don't care where we go, as long as I'm with you.'

He kissed the back of your hand and you smiled at him.

'I know. It's just… those places always make me feel like I'm some trophy wife or something.'

'Damn,' Sihtric laughed, but quickly became serious, 'you're not kidding?'

'No, babe,' you sighed, 'I'm just not used to all of that rich and fancy stuff. It makes me feel so strange, and I know you mean well so don't think this is anything personal, honey, it's not. But I know you are also not one of those stuck up rich people. You're too down to earth, as am I, and we don't belong in those places with those people.'

'I know, and you're right,' he agreed, 'but it's all I know, really. Back home I can't go to so-called casual places, it's impossible for me. And… besides, I got all that money so might as well use it,' he said, not to brag, but because it was true, 'and I like spending it on you.'

'I know,' you rolled your eyes with a shy smile.

'What are you rolling your eyes for?'

'Well, remember when my handbag broke, and I went out to the thrift store to find a new one?'

'Yes, and?'

'And I came home to a Louis Vuitton bag you bought me?'

'And?' Sihtric raised an eyebrow.

'Look,' you cupped his cheeks, 'I really appreciate that gesture, but it's not me, darling. I can't… I can't go to a thrift store to find some cool shirts with a fucking LV bag around my shoulder.'

Sihtric laughed at the ridiculous image in his head and he agreed.

'Yeah, I get it. But I like spoiling you,' he said softly.

'I just don't want people to think I'm a golddigger…'

'But you're not,' he scoffed, 'you never ask me for anything.'

'Yes, but people who see us together don't know that. People already think I'm only with you for your money. That I snuck my way into your life by being your physiotherapist…'

'I don't care what they think,' Sihtric sighed, 'we went over this already. Just drop it, baby. Let it go. It's my money. If I want to buy you Gucci socks or a fucking happy meal, then that's my decision.'

You stared at each other, intensely, wondering if this would end in an argument, but then you both broke out in a laugh and he pulled you in his arms.

'Just let me spoil my wife,' he kissed your temple.

'Only sometimes.'

'Fine, only sometimes,' Sihtric smiled, and asked the driver to change the route to a "casual bar".

You ended up in some local bar where, surprisingly, people didn't really bother your husband, despite being very well aware of who he is. Only a handful of people asked for a signature, and those who did were very respectful.

'People are so polite here. Definitely not like back home,' Sihtric had smiled at you as he finished his second cocktail. He took the little umbrella out of his glass and tucked it in your hair, and kissed your lips. 'My wife,' he simply said, smiling, almost shyly as he looked at you, eyes full of love and as if he couldn't believe he was married to you.

The rest of the night at the bar was simply relaxed and fun. You even ended up on the small, packed dancefloor with Sihtric, knowing he had enjoyed one cocktail too many, as he was very handsy while he danced with you, but you didn't mind at all. You just loved seeing him smile so much, and truly being himself, for once, in public. Because not a single soul in that bar had their phone out or paid much attention to the two of you. And you weren't even mad when some grandma stole him from you for a dance, when her requested Lionel Richie song came on, but you gave Sihtric a fake warning look that he was not to get handsy with that lady. And you loved Sihtric's fiery eyes when her husband, also 80-something years old, took your hand to dance and you couldn't help but chuckle at your own husband.

'I thought you were going to knock him out,' you laughed in the cab, on the way back to the hotel.

'I definitely considered it,' Sihtric grinned and kissed you, still glowing from a nice evening out with you, without being stared at or treated differently. But the happiness didn't last much longer after he read a text from Finan.

Finan: hey, congratulations on your wedding, you bastard ;) we expect a big party when you're back.

'What's wrong?' you asked when you saw Sihtric's concerned look.

'Finan knows about our marriage.'

'What? How?'

'I don't know, I just asked him.'

You had both deliberately told no one, in the hopes of having a rather quiet and private holiday, but somehow word got out. And Finan sent an article which was posted about an hour ago, in which your marriage was mentioned.

'How the fuck…' you muttered, 'wait, they even mentioned our hotel?!'

'Fuck,' Sihtric sighed, and he threw his phone next to him on the backseat of the cab.

And the last thing you wanted was the first next thing you got.

Your cab driver pulled up at the hotel, of which the entrance was crowded with journalists, camera crews, and countless people with cellphones out who hoped to get a glimpse of your husband and "his wife". Sihtric tensed up immediately and, despite it being the middle of the night, put on his black sunglasses and held his head down already. The driver, bless him, felt really bad for you both and asked if he should take you somewhere else, but you told him all your belongings were here, as well as Sihtric's medication, which he naturally had forgotten to take with him, so you had to get inside the hotel. You thanked the driver and Sihtric gave him a cash tip so big, the man almost started crying. You thanked the driver again before Sihtric nudged your arm softly.

'Bunny? Just… please,' Sihtric said anxiously, taking your hand, 'stay close, baby, please?'

'I will,' you kissed his cheek, 'I will, my love. Just keep your head down, don't stop for anyone, no matter what, okay? We just have to get inside, they can't follow you inside without being kicked out.'

Sihtric nodded, clearly stressed out and he took a deep breath before he opened the car door, exposing you both to the outburst of loud screams and flashing cameras.

Sihtric got out of the car first and turned to help you out, after which he circled his arm tightly around your waist, and you did the same to him as you tried to make your way through the crowd. Everyone shouted and closed in on you, making it almost impossible to move forward.

Sihtric kept his head down, anxiously holding you in his tight grip while people yelled his name and shoved their cellphones in his face. A few journalists asked about your wedding but you both had nothing to say and tried to move on, until suddenly some stranger grabbed your arm and pulled you away from Sihtric. Who it was, and why it happened, you'll never know. But it happened. And it caused you to be dragged away from Sihtric, who was immediately battle-ready when he lost the feeling of you by his side. Reporters and fans didn't give a fuck about you, they only saw a chance to take your place. While you were pushed and shoved, you vaguely saw Sihtric tense up and grab at his chest, while reporters shoved their cameras and microphones in his face. And when his hidden eyes found you again, while he felt incredibly dizzy and panicked, he saw you had been hurt. Someone had, you hoped, accidentally elbowed you in the rough crowd and your nose was bleeding. Sihtric gave one of the reporters who got too close to him a hard shove as he could only think of getting to you as fast as he could, which caused the reporter to trip and stumble backwards. Being on the verge of a full panic attack and an anger outburst, Sihtric managed to make his way over to you while you wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jacket, and he pulled you close to his chest.

'Baby, get me out,' his voice trembled along with his body as he held onto you, 'please, get me out of here. I- I don't feel well.'

'You're okay,' you took his face in your hands, 'I promise you, you're okay.'

You tried to console him, but Sihtric shook his head. He was not okay, and you knew he was already crying, his dark shades just hid it from the crowd. His chest heaved up and down fast, and your own anger took over this time. You shoved your way through the crowd, who kept putting their hands on you, but mainly on Sihtric. And when some girl tried to push you away to take your place, next to Sihtric, you gave her a hard shove with your shoulder and told her to fuck off.

And when you finally had made your way inside the hotel, you were immediately swarmed by the staff and security, apologising for the way this all got out of hand and asking if you were okay. Sihtric had entirely shut down at this point, keeping his head low and his hands on you at all times. You lashed out at everyone and said you wanted to be left alone, and after that you finally pulled Sihtric in the elevator to your floor.

The silence in the small space was filled with Sihtric's heavy breathing as he buried his face in your neck, and finally allowed himself to break down in your arms.

'It's okay, my love,' you whispered as you held him, 'it's over. It's over now, we made it.'

'Who hurt you?' he asked through his tears when your nose suddenly began to bleed again.

'I don't know, honey, it just happened. I'm fine.'

But something in Sihtric snapped at the sight of your blood, and he suddenly swung his fist into one of the elevator mirrors, smashing it in pieces. You flinched at the sudden movement, and the glass crashed down onto the floor and splintered in tiny pieces, while blood began to spill from his hand.

Not long after the entire incident a few medics knocked at your hotel door. They came to check up on Sihtric and fixed his hand with some stitches and bandages, while you went to explain what happened to the hotel owner and apologised. Sihtric had told you to tell them they should just send the bill and he'd cover all the costs to get that elevator fixed again. But the owner told you it was all okay and even offered to refund the money for your stay, which you declined. You felt it was very kind, but you thought they only offered it because they were afraid of your husband, and didn't want any trouble with him. They also offered you a few nights extra for free, but you and Sihtric already decided to fly back home tomorrow. And in the dead of night you both packed your bags, so you could sleep in a little before getting on the 11AM flight home.

'Do you ever regret being with me?' Sihtric whispered as you were laying face to face in bed, cuddled up after the exhaustive night.

'Of course I don't,' you whispered, your fingers tracing mindless figures over his cheek and his chin, 'why would you ask me that?'

'Because all you want is a normal life,' he took your hand, 'and that's exactly the one thing I can't give you.'

'I just want a life with you, Sihtric, that's all I want,' you kissed the tip of his nose.

Sihtric smiled softly and kissed your wedding ring a few times, 'I don't deserve you, bunny. But, gods, how I need you.'

'You deserve me,' you hushed him with a kiss, 'I don't want to hear that bullshit again. I knew you were going to be a handful as soon as I met you, when you walked into my physio practice and thought you could intimidate me.'

Sihtric laughed softly, 'I can't believe you still married me after that.'

'I saw right through you,' you chuckled, 'you never fooled me with your attitude.'

'I'm sorry,' he sighed quietly, 'for all of that. And for all the trouble I get myself in all the time. And I'm sorry I can't even take you on a holiday without some shit happening… I'm sorry, baby,' his breath hitched as he fought his tears.

'Sihtric Kjartansson,' you whispered, pressing your forehead against his, 'I vowed to love you, all of you, and to be with you, always. Whatever shit we'll have to deal with next, I'll be here, with you, by your side, okay?'

'Promise?'

'I promise,' you said and kissed his wedding ring.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @chompchompluke @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric #tlk #modern!sihtric

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captainsy-cookiemonster · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home

Prompt: Okay! You gonna love this A sandwich.... between....*drum rolls* Mike and Touch Starved!Will … They both brothers, and Mike is a horn dog, while after 3 month parted Will needs a hard release after a stressful business agenda😘😘

Summary: while your one roommate is away, things get steamy with your other roommate. it just so happens that the roommate who was gone comes back while you’re fooling around with the other one. this is fun.

Pairing: bi!Mikey x unnamed OFC x bi!Will Shaw

Warnings: dom x switch x switch, f2l, threeway, p in v sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, cumming inside (on, uhh both ends), grinding, little bit of degradation, implication that Mikey came in his pants while OFC was grinding on him once, my first time writing a threeway, me picking up a wip after moooonths and a very draining semester, hints at a possible polyamorous relationship?, rules of physics? is this even possible? we don’t ask these kinds of questions here sir, the female character is not described beyond having “grip-able” hair however you want to define it, for the sake of not being called inclusive enough for a reader i chose to make her an unspecified OFC

Names used: bunny, good girl, sweetheart, slut, good boy (Mikey), sir (Will)

A/N: I hope you don’t mind that I changed your prompt a little bit. I didn’t really feel comfortable writing them as brothers, so I made them all roommates. Thank you so much @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @littlefreya and @luna-aestas for helping me when i got stuck or felt it sucked. You girls are amazing ❤️ not beta'd much. Typos we're going down swingin'!

Word count: ca 4k

Title: Welcome Home

Writers live off validation. If you liked it please like, comment and reblog 💕 thank you for reading 💖

It started as roommates. As a guy in his junior year, with friends mostly in higher semesters, Will was suddenly left with an empty apartment and a rent that was far too high to handle all by himself.

That’s when I came into play, a little freshman who happened to not have gotten a dorm room on campus. It was especially convenient since I got a job at the little café just across the street once I was accepted into college. The wage was just enough for rent and food and I was lucky my parents still supported me.

A few weeks into the semester, another boy joined our little arrangement. Mikey was trouble, which, in a way, was good because that meant he was rarely home. He was always out partying, slept during the day, and missed most of his courses. But at least that meant it was quiet when Will and I had to study or do homework.

That was two years ago. The three of us have become close friends, almost like family. The boys grew protective of their little barista, who would bring them their favorite coffee whenever I came home. They were almost like big brothers. Well… Almost.

Will has finished his bachelor’s by now and is currently building his own startup, while part time working on his master's program. So he’s still living in the apartment with the two of us.

Well actually… not right now. He had to go away for three months. Something to do with his business, I can’t really remember.

Three months alone with Mikey have been... interesting, to say the least. And fun. Lots of fun. Take that however you want.

Right now, we're lounging on the couch, watching some silly movie. I couldn't tell the name even with a gun to my head. It’s late, and Mikey's soft, but progressively more daring caress is using up all the focus I can muster. His hand snuck into my shorts and is squeezing my buttcheek. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper and press my thighs together. He does it again, drawing the same reaction from me; except this time, I bury my face into his chest. I can practically feel his smirk and look up to glare at him. I don’t even meet his eyes before his lips catch mine in a sloppy kiss.

In a scramble of arms and legs, he pulls me to straddle his lap, his hands kneading my ass while mine paw at his chest and neck, tug at his hair, and grip his shoulders. It’s messy. It’s clumsy. It’s desperate. I want more. I need it. I need to be closer, need to feel him everywhere.

I start grinding my hips into his crotch, feeling him grow. His hands on my hips urge me on, but instead of speeding up, I slow down. Giggling and out of breath, I break the kiss.

“Nuh-uh, remember last time? Not gonna happen again.”

Mikey huffs and rolls his eyes. “That was one time!”

Laughing, I shake my head and lean down to kiss him again. His hands are everywhere, on my ass, my hips, then sliding up my back underneath my shirt. With skilled fingers, he unclasps my bra, pulling the straps off my arms. As it falls between us, I take it and blindly throw it into the room behind us. Faintly, I hear it hitting the floor before my attention focuses on Mikey’s hands sliding up my tummy and letting his thumbs brush over that spot on my ribs.

I gasp and grind my hips down harder, making him chuckle. In response, I capture his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging and sucking on it a little before releasing it. Can’t have the boy think he’s got the upper hand in this.

But he still thinks he does. His hands find my tits, and the triumphant grin on his face…

“Oh! Your nipples are hard! Is this turning you on, baby?”

Ugh! That boy!

“No, Mikey. Obviously not.” I roll my eyes and snort. “And what about you? I’m sure you find it absolutely terrible to have me grinding in your lap, hm? As hard as your cock is.”

“Hatin’ it.” He grins and pinches my nipples. “You know what I’d like better?” He leans in, his breath hot against my neck. “If the two of us got naked.”

“Hm, yeah… Now that you’re saying it… that does sound like a good idea.”

Scrambling to my feet, I’m quick to slide down my jogging shorts. I’m about to take off my shirt, when Mikey gets up and stands right in front of me… Entirely naked. Damn, he’s quick!

“Lemme do it?”

I just nod, lifting my arms to assist him, but of course, he takes his sweet time, letting the tips of his fingers glide up my skin underneath the fabric. Of course, he has to squeeze my tits when he reaches them, but he lifts the shirt over my face too quickly for me to glare at him. It doesn’t stop me from trying, though. Once the shirt is off my body and Mikey sees my face, he can’t suppress a chuckle and quickly kisses the tip of my nose to make the glare disappear. To his credit, it works. A hot flush gathers in my cheeks, and I quickly turn around, searching the room for… Damn.

“Be right back,” I tell Mikey over my shoulder, taking off my panties to toss at him, but I’ve already dashed through the door before I know if I hit him or not.

Not even a minute later, I come back to the living room, finding Mikey still where I had left him, with my panties in his hands, grinning to himself, most likely proud of himself for getting me to soak them that much.

“What do you want with that?” he asks once he notices I’m back, eyes on the towel in my hand.

“Well… I thought that Will would appreciate it if he didn’t come home to cum stains on the couch.” I shrug.

“Ohhh, yeah… Probably.”

He takes the towel from my hand and puts it down on the couch, then sits down on it. Mikey pats his thighs, signaling for me to sit, but I look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh!” He grins sheepishly, realizing what I’m looking at and quickly tosses my panties to the floor. He doesn’t even manage to pat his lap again before I climb on top of him. With one hand on my hip, the other on my neck, Mikey pulls me closer until my lips meet his, and the length of his cock rubs against my pussy.

I start to grind my hips into him, throwing my head back at the friction. I feel Mikey’s breath heavy on my neck, then his soft lips on my tender skin. His hands grip me tighter as I move on his cock, pulling my hips deeper into him. By now, the hand he had on my neck has wandered to the back of my head, tugging at my hair to keep my throat exposed to his kisses. I’m sure my neck will be covered in hickeys tomorrow. There’ll be bruises on my hip, too. Fuck! The thought of carrying his marks makes me even wetter.

“Bunny, I need you,” Mikey pants against my neck. I nod, and he lets me go, so I can sit up. He grips his cock to guide himself in as I hover above his lap, steadying myself with my hands on his shoulders.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Just a second.”

Oh… yeah… Mikey and tits, how could I forget? With my chest on eye level, of course Mikey has to bury his face into it, peppering kisses all over my boobs, sucking and biting at my nipples until I’m a whimpering mess, swaying my hips in the search for friction, inches away from his cock.

“Okay, ready.” He grins, his free hand coming up to my hip to help me ease down on him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! No matter how many times we do it, I’ll never get used to his size. The delicious stretch of being seated on him all the way has me panting.

“Good girl.”

“Mhh.”

For a moment, I just sit there, resting my head against his shoulder while feeling him pulse inside me. I smile against his skin when he begins to gently stroke my back. His hands shift down to my waist when I start to roll my hips slowly. He squeezes my hips, making me lift up and brace myself on his shoulders.

Gasping, I relish in the feeling of his cock stroking every spot inside me. I go faster. Harder. His hands shift even lower, grabbing at my butt and guiding my movements.

"Fuck," we sigh in unison, before breaking in a fit of giggles. With heaving breath, I smile at him, wiping a strand of sweaty hair from his brow before cradling the back of his head in my hands, leaning in to kiss him. He kisses back instantly, tongue swiping along my lower lip to request entrance. Opening my mouth for him, I let his tongue explore my mouth, sucking on it and trying to fight for dominance. We both moan into the kiss, the movement of our hips growing more sloppy, rushed.

"Hey, uh… Oh."

We jump at the familiar voice. Wide-eyed, we turn towards the door, where we find a very flustered looking Will. The thud of his bag hitting the floor makes my eyes snap to his hand that dropped it, then the prominent bulge in the front of his jeans. Once my eyes find his face again, I can spot the hint of a smirk playing around his lips.

"Uhm." Mikey's voice is a little shaky. I feel him twitch inside me. I look back at him, raising my eyebrows in question. He gives me a nod and grinning, I nod back.

"Will! C'mere." I turn towards him and gesture for him to come closer. He hesitates for a moment before finally taking determined steps towards Mikey and me.

Standing in front of us, Will leans down to meet my face. his hand reaches up to caress my cheek and I lean into it, missing the gentle touch when his hand wanders down. I gasp when I feel his fingers lightly squeezing my throat, my eyes fluttering shut when he gets even closer. His kiss is still rougher than expected, his tongue claiming dominance right away. I feel myself clenching around Mikey’s cock, a new wave of wetness soaking his lap. Will breaks the kiss way too soon. I try to chase his lips as he pulls back, but he keeps my head in place with his hand around my throat. Smiling while I pout at him, he turns to Mikey.

“Has she been good?”

I feel Mikey shuffle to sit up straighter. A moment passes before he can answer, stunned and with his mouth hanging open slightly. “Yes.” Another moment before he adds an uncertain “...sir?”

Will just nods before finally sitting down right next to Mikey. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me too?”

All I can do is bite my lip and nod. As a reward he grabs my neck again and pulls me in for another deep kiss that leaves me breathless.

Feeling Mikey’s cock twitch inside me, I start grinding on him again. Hot breath against my ear and suddenly there is a pair of lips sucking on my neck. I whimper against Will’s lips when Mikey starts to graze his teeth over the sensitive skin below my ear.

Once Will allows me a moment to breathe again, I kiss my way down to his neck. It’s so much rougher than Mikey’s, the well grown out stubble leaves my lips tingling. I feel him turning his head and his Adam's apple bob against my kiss. At first I think it was to give me better access, but from above me I hear the unmistakable sound of a hesitant but needy kiss.

Are they- ? Oh fuck, why is that so hot?

Mikey must have felt me squeezing around him because a moment later his hand that was still on my body pushes me to adjust on his cock by the small of my back, nudging against that spot, making me gasp. Being so focused on the changed sensation inside of me, I haven’t even noticed how my nails have started to dig into Will’s chest, until I hear his groan. It wasn’t a pained groan, more like he was enjoying it. Maybe even a little too much. I took that for a sign to take the next step and while he and Mikey are still making out, I start to unbutton Will’s shirt, kissing and nibbling at every inch of skin I uncovered, making sure to scrape my nails down his chest as I go. The lower I go, the more he tangles his fingers into my hair, pushing me further. Once I reach the waistline of his jeans, nuzzle my nose against the thick hair of his happy trail and look up at him with big eyes.

“Can I?” I ask, with my hands on his thighs, close to his crotch.

“Can you what? C’mon, be a good girl. Use your words.”

Wow, those three months really changed him.

I swallow a little nervously and nod before I try again. “Can I take your cock out? I wanna taste it.”

Waiting for an answer, I watch as Mikey sucks on the side of Will’s neck, making him throw his head back and groan.

“Please… sir?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you can.”

With eager fingers I unbutton his jeans and fumble a little before I manage to pull down the zipper. Already starting to drool with anticipation, I tug at his boxers. He lifts his hips to help me and finally I’m met with the sight of his hard cock springing free.

He is a bit thicker than Mikey, but they’re about the same length. Taking hold of him, I give the head a gentle little kiss before sticking out my tongue to collect the small drop of pre cum leaking from the tip.

“Mmm, good girl,” Will hums and strokes my hair. “Suck on it, c’mon.”

I nod before I take him in my mouth, just the head, suckling on it and toying with it a little with my tongue.

The moan that comes out of his mouth… I’ve never heard anything sexier. It has me squeezing around Mikey unconsciously.

“Fuuuuuck,” I hear him mutter into Will’s neck.

The wave of confidence that washes over me at the fact I’m pleasuring not one but two men makes me take Will deeper into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and press my tongue against the underside of his cock, slowly taking more of him. As I keep bobbing my head up and down his grip on my hair becomes tighter and more and more moans fall from his mouth .

The tingling sensation that spreads through my body from that makes me try to take him even deeper, until I start gagging and my eyes begin to water. By now, my nose is pressing into his hip.

“I can’t… I can’t!” I suddenly hear Mikey wheeze. Will immediately lets go of my hair and I hurry to get off Mikey’s lap.

“What is it?”

I’m stunned at how calmly Will asks that while I’m staring at a panting Mikey, almost panicking.

“I fucking need…” he wheeses again. Both Will and I stare at him, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “... to get off!”

I let out a sigh of relief, watching Will chuckle and playfully nudge Mikey with his elbow. The younger man smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head.

“I was serious about it, though. So-” he drags out the word “- can we like… get started?”

I nod slowly, feeling their eyes on me, and look towards Will for guidance.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks me gently, and I shrug, unsure. “Okay then, c'mere.”

While I get closer, he stands up and rearranges the towel so it covers most of the couch and drapes over the armrest, causing Mikey to jump up as well.

“Now, can you get on your hands and knees for us?” Will nearly coos, still it feels like he’s giving no room for discussion. “Isn’t she such a good girl for us?” I can hear him ask Mikey, now behind my back, and I can only imagine Mikey nodding while giving Will puppy dog eyes. “And you? You’re gonna be a good boy for us and let her suck you off.” Again, no room for discussion.

I shuffle closer to the couch's armrest, balancing my weight on my elbows on it, and give Mikey a reassuring nod. He swallows a little nervously, looking at Will, who's getting into position behind me. I lean forward to give Mike a small kiss to his hip bone, then nuzzle my face against the base of his cock. He cups my cheek with one hand, stroking his thumb across my bottom lip when I lean into him, while his other hand grips the base of his cock. I open my lips a bit and suckle on the tip of his thumb as he gently brings my face and himself into position. He pulls his finger from my mouth and I open my lips wider, giving the tip of his cock a little lick, looking up at him through my lashes to see his reaction. He groans and throws his head back. That’s when I take the head in my mouth and start playing with it with my tongue.

Behind me, Will puts a hand on my hip to hold me steady, with the other, he grabs is cock and swipes it up and down on my lips, coating himself in my juices.

“Fuck, you’re so wet!” He groans and pushes in a little. I let out a moan around Mikey’s cock, making him shiver in response. Will slowly keeps pushing in, a deep moan escaping him once he bottoms out. I can only whimper around Mikey’s cock, feeling so full already.

“Now just stay still, baby, we’ve got you,” Will says, if a little bit strained. I nod as much as I can and look up at Mikey, who’s still holding my face. He pushes himself a little bit deeper into my mouth. I can still taste myself on him as I suck. Will starts moving, thrusting in a slow and steady rhythm, pushing me down on Mikey’s cock with every time his hips meet mine. Again, I moan around Mikey, whose hands start wandering to my hair and grips it to push himself further down my throat. My eyes begin to water when Will picks up the pace, making me take Mikey even deeper. The room is filled with the beautifully filthy sounds of the two men groaning in erotic harmony, skin slapping on skin and my strangled moans as I gag around Mikey’s cock.

“You’re being so good, bunny,” Mikey praises, breathing heavily. “So good for us,” Will adds. “Letting us use you like a little slut.” I can’t help but whimper at that, squeezing around Will’s cock.

“Oh? Did you like that?” Will leans down closer to my ear, whispering, “You like it when I call you slut?” I nod as much as I can with Mikey in my mouth. “You’re so filthy. Nothing more than a toy for us to use.”

He fucks me harder, making me whimper and take Mikey even deeper. Tears are beginning to stream down my face, but it all feels so good. I can’t help but clench around him, the coil in my belly starting to tighten.

So it takes me by surprise when Will suddenly slows to a stop. A little out of breath he says, “This isn’t it. Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Mikey nods, pulling from my mouth and Will picks me up, carrying me over to the bedrooms. My mind is far too lazy to see whose bedroom we end up in when Will tosses me onto the bed with a bounce.

“Let your head hang over the edge. Yes, just like this, good girl.”

I watch upside down as Mikey kneels down by my head, positioning himself. I open my mouth widely, obediently and he pushes his cock back into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I start sucking on him again as Will climbs up over me, kneels on the bed and grabs my thighs. He doesn’t make me wait long and thrusts back in in one smooth movement. I moan loudly around Mikey’s cock when he bottoms out, finally feeling full again. Complete, in a sense.

Before he begins to thrust, though, he pulls my hips up onto his legs, making me arch my back and take Mikey deeper down my throat. All three of us moan in sinful harmony, skin slapping and wet slurping composing a filthy melody of bliss. With the new angle, I can feel the burning coil tightening faster as the tip of Will’s cock strokes all the spots perfectly, the base of him rubbing against my clit. My moans rise in pitch, even muffled by Mikey fucking my face. His hips begin to stutter, he’s close as well. Will, of course, notices that and picks up his pace, fucking me faster.

Fuck! This feels so good!

Mikey’s groans mix with little gasps as I feel him twitch. He’s close, I can tell. I use my tongue to play with him, eliciting little whimpers from him.

“S-sir, ‘m so close… can I cum? Please?” Mikey begs between little gasps and whines.

“Go a-head,” Will tells him, his own voice strained as well. I brace myself, sucking Mikey harder. A few more thrusts into my mouth and he stills, whimpering loudly as his warm load hits my tongue. I swallow it down eagerly, but gasp when he pulls out of my mouth. I take a few deep breaths as I watch him stand and jerk himself, another, smaller load landing on my chest.

“Fuuuck,” he groans.

“Good boy,” Will praises him, doubling his efforts now, fucking me even harder. His hand comes up to my chest, grabbing and kneading my tits for a moment before swiping two fingers through Mike’s cum and bringing those fingers down to my clit, drawing slow but firm circles around the little bud. I cry out, clenching hard around him. The coil keeps growing tighter until it… Snaps. With a high pitched moan, I fall over the edge, white hot bliss carrying me as my body writhes in pleasure. Through a haze I can hear Will groan and feel a warmth spreading inside me. I open up my eyes to see him hovering above me, dipping his head down to meet my lips in a passionate kiss. I kiss him back eagerly, letting our tongues fight for dominance until we need to stop for air. Will sits up again, reaches out an arm and pulls in Mikey for a just as passionate kiss. I watch them, a satiated smile on my face. I get up on my knees, squeezing between them to kiss their necks and chests alternately. Once the part, the three of us collapse on the bed naked and panting, a tangled mess of limbs.

“You know…” Mikey breathes heavily, “we were going to throw you a welcome home partly…”

Will chuckles at that, “You still could…”

I just shake my head, giggling. “Let’s just order pizza.”

214 notes · View notes

loslentesdepedrito · 9 months

Text

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Four

Top right gif by: @pedrohub, bottom left gif by: @pedroispunk

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Five

Word count: 5.0k+

A/N: This time of year is always hard on me, and I don't know why I didn't factor that into my uploading schedule. I decided to cut the chapters short to prolong the series, so there are still a few chapters left. Thank you to everyone for their patience, and I hope you enjoy this part!

Chapter summary: Javi confronts Jack, and in the aftermath, Jack bonds with Ángel. (Picks up directly from ch. 3)

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst (less than the last few chapters), language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.

“Oh, I didn’t know you remarried. Again. Because surely you’re not talking about my girl.” Javi said with his jaw clenched. “She’s not your wife anymore, Jack. She’s my wife.”

"Well, I thought 'the mother of my son who I was married to and is the love of my life' was too long to say. Because I was married to her, bud," Jack countered. His voice, while tinted with pride, carried an undercurrent of sadness. It was as though he was grasping for a sliver of the life he had lost.

But Javi wasn't about to let Jack's words undermine his place in your life and Ángel's. He interjected forcefully, his frustration evident in every word. "Mira, Cabron," (Look, asshole,) he told Jack, "Keyword, was. You were married to her. Not anymore. She's my wife. She's the love of my life, and I am the love of her life. She's the mother of my children. I was there for the OB appointments. I was there for Ángel's birth. I was there for everything. Ángel is also my son, and I get that you want to be there for him now.” Javier uses his hands to point at himself every time he emphasizes a word. “But remember that you wanted nothing to do with him. You told her you wanted her to get rid of him! Forgive me if I don't fully believe you're as committed to being in Ángel's life as you say you are. I won't let you hurt her again, and I certainly won't let you hurt my son."

Jack's face contorted with a mix of frustration and desperation as he struggled to regain ground. "You might have been there for all that, but I've changed. I want to be here now, for Ángel and for her."

Javier's gaze remained unwavering, his jaw clenched in determination. "Changed? Jack, do you even realize how much pain you caused her?" His voice dripped with reproach. "You left her alone when she needed you the most,” Javier puts one hand on his hip and uses the other to motion, “and now you waltz back in here, thinking you can just pick up where you left off. It doesn't work like that."

Jack's fists clenched, his temper flaring. "I know I messed up. I can't change the past, but I can try to make it right now."

Javier takes a step closer and shoves a finger into Jack’s chest, his tone ice-cold. "Make it right? You can't erase the years you missed, the tears she shed, or the heartache you caused. And you sure as hell can't take my place now."

Javier's voice grew firmer, more assertive, as he continued, "You can't pretend like everything is all sunshine and rainbows. You need to start looking at me like Ángel's father and her husband."

“He’s my son!” Jack bursts. “I'm not letting you replace me in his life.”

Javier didn't back down. Instead, he leaned even closer, their faces mere inches apart. "I'm not replacing you, Jack. I'm the one who's been here for him all along, loving him and caring for him when you were nowhere to be found. And I'll be damned if I let you come back into their lives and disrupt what we've built."

“A father doesn’t abandon their child before they’re even born. In all those years, you never looked for him,” Javi's voice carried deep disappointment, the kind that had festered over time.

Even though it was difficult, Javier tried to let go of his anger. “I get you want to be his dad now, but that’s going to take time. I’m not saying you’ll never be his dad, but I will always be his dad, Jack. I know we don’t have the same blood, but he’s my son. You need to learn and accept that. Maybe he’ll call us both dad one day, but stop interjecting yourself into her life. What you two had is over. You can’t be the family you want anymore.”

Deep down, Javier knew that Jack was also his son’s father, and he wasn't willing to waste more time arguing that point. However, he needed to clarify to Jack that he couldn't just play house with you. Javier told Jack he wasn’t Ángel's father primarily out of anger. He knew he shouldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, but seeing Jack pretend to be the one you were building a family with, as if he hadn't abandoned you, was infuriating beyond words. Both of you had agreed that if Jack wanted to be in Ángel's life, he could. It just hurt Javier deeply to share his son, especially when it could result in Ángel being hurt by Jack. But if Jack was honest about his intentions, this could result in Ángel being loved by more than two parents, and Javier wasn't willing to steal that from his son.

Jack took in Javier’s words and instead of understanding why he was so protective, his temper flared in the face of Javier's unyielding stance. He couldn't deny the truth in Javier's words, and that only stoked the burning frustration within him. "You've got it all figured out, don't ya?" Jack's voice was overtaken with resentment as he spoke. "You waltz in here, take my place like it's no big deal, and now you're the king of this castle?"

Javier's eyes bore into Jack's, an unspoken determination in his gaze. "I didn't waltz in, Jack. I walked in when you walked out. I filled a void you left behind. I didn't choose to be the king; I just chose to stand by her side when you chose not to."

Jack felt like a caged animal, his anger mixing with a bitter sense of regret. "I messed up, alright? But I'm back now. You think you can just replace me?"

Javier's voice remained steady, though his anger simmered again just beneath the surface. "I'm not trying to replace you, Jack. I'm trying to protect them from being hurt by you again. It's not just about you anymore; it's about them."

Jack's fists clenched as he fought to regain some semblance of control. "I love her, and I love Ángel. I want to make things right."

"Desgraciado," (shameless) Javier muttered under his breath, choosing to ignore Jack's blatant profession of love for his wife. "Love is more than just words, Jack. It's actions. It's being there when you're needed, not just when it's convenient for you. It's about accepting that you hurt them deeply and that they might need time to heal. Ángel doesn’t know about you, but what do you think he’ll think once he finds out the truth? No kid wants to hear that his dad didn’t want anything to do with them."

Jack struggled with his emotions, the weight of his past mistakes heavy on his shoulders. "I- I know I can't erase the past, but I'll do whatever it takes to build a future with them."

Javier took a step back, his face still stern but less confrontational. "Then prove it, Jack. Actions speak louder than words. Show them you've changed, not just with what you say, but with what you do."

Jack's shoulders slumped, and he looked down momentarily, grappling with his emotions. It was a difficult pill to swallow, facing the consequences of his past actions. "You're right, Javier. I can't change what I've done, and I can't expect things to go back to the way they were." He admitted, "I know I've hurt both of them deeply, especially her. I'll respect your place in their lives, but I want a chance to be there for Ángel too."

Javier nodded, his expression softening a fraction. "I'm not saying you can't be a part of Ángel's life, Jack. But it has to be on their terms, at their pace. And it has to be with the understanding that we're a family now."

Jack swallowed hard, finally starting to accept the reality of the situation. "I get it. I won't push. I just want a chance to prove that I can be a better father to Ángel." He didn't say anything about your family not including him; he wanted to, but he knew it would be futile.

Javier extended a hand towards Jack. "Then we have an understanding. It won't be easy, but if you're serious about making amends and being there for him, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

Jack stared at your husband’s hand for a while before he shook Javier's hand firmly.

The two men made their way back to room 43 in uneasy silence, their faces carefully composed as if they hadn’t almost ripped each other apart not even ten minutes ago.

When they walk through the door, you immediately sense that something happened. You knew your husband too well and felt he had little interest in helping Jack, so you had been concerned when Javi insisted on helping Jack with the towels.

Javier gracefully moves to you, kisses the top of your head, and then sits next to you. His hand finds its place on your stomach, a subtle yet affectionate touch. Jack, however, lingers awkwardly, towels in hand, as he takes in the scene before him. Seeing Javier so close to you stirred a storm of emotions within him, and it took a moment for his jumbled thoughts to come together. When he finally came to, he stored the towels in the maple wardrobe, and he retook his seat beside Ángel. To an outsider, it might have seemed as though nothing unusual had occurred, but the atmosphere remained charged with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You didn't get a chance to express your gratitude to Jack before he gently resumed his conversation with your son.

They were chatting about Jack’s ranch and Ángel was practically creating an itinerary for the visit.

"Mr. Jack, do you have horses on your ranch?" Ángel asked, his eyes shining with curiosity. His innocence was a welcomed breather from the tension in the room moments ago.

Jack, who had been caught slightly off guard by the sudden question, managed a warm smile. "Yes, we do, buddy. We've got some of the finest horses you'll ever see."

To prove his point and perhaps bond with his son over their shared love for horses, Jack reaches into his pants pocket. As his fingers curled around an object, your heartbeat raced. It was unmistakable – the small, black phone, a Motorola in all its glory. For a split second, a flood of emotions surged within you. Why did he still have it? Your mind wrestles with the significance of this unexpected memory he kept, but you quickly push the thoughts aside.

Ángel, his curiosity piqued by the sight of the odd phone, couldn't help but voice his surprise, his brows arching in unbelief. "Uh… Is that your phone?" He stares as he takes in the object he’s never seen before. The phone’s body was primarily matte black, with a reflective silver border and a letter ‘M’ in the middle.

Jack noticed Ángel's expression and furrowed his brows in concern, his lips beneath his mustache forming a subtle pout. "Something wrong?" He asked, worried that he might have inadvertently upset him.

Ángel, quick to reassure Jack, shook his head. "No," he replied, his head moving somewhat furiously, "It's just that I've never seen a phone like that before."

With a fond smile, Jack replied, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "This, buddy," he began, holding up the phone, "is a Motorola Razr V3. It's not like the fancy ones you see nowadays." He opened the phone with a satisfying snap, showing off the small screen and metallic keypad. As he continued, Jack's eyes seemed to shimmer with memories of a different time. "Back in the day, this phone was all the rage.” He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the chance to share a piece of his past with Ángel.

“Cool!” Ángel exclaimed.

"Very.” Jack agreed. “It might not have all the apps modern phones do, but it sure serves me well. Look, I even have pictures of the horses here.” He tapped a button on his old phone, and his fingers were a bit too big but he had years of practice to not accidentally click other things. He opens the camera roll. The phone, although dated, was still functional. He scrolled up until he found the best photos and moved the phone closer to Ángel. As he scrolled through the photos, he couldn't help but notice Ángel leaning in closer, his eyes glued to the small screen. Jack knew these images might appear grainy and outdated to a young boy, but the fact that Ángel showed genuine interest warmed his heart.

Jack carefully selected a handful of the best photos, ones that showcased the beauty and spirit of the horses. He moved the phone closer to Ángel, allowing the boy to take the pictures at his own pace.

In the first picture, Jack shared an image of a dusty gray pony, its gentle eyes looking out from a stable stall, bathed in warm sunlight that filtered through the wooden slats. "This one is Bubbles. He’s a Shetland pony." Jack explained with a fond smile.

"Wow, he looks so soft." Ángel remarked, his eyes glued to the picture.

Jack nodded. "Oh, he's the softest. Loves being petted and brushed."

In the next photo, a golden chestnut horse galloped freely across a lush, green pasture, its mane billowing with the wind. Jack's voice was filled with quiet excitement as he narrated the picture. "And here's Bullseye, she's got a lot of energy, and loves to run around. She’s an Akhal-Teke, and the speed demon of the bunch."

Ángel laughed at the thought of a speedy mare and the sound warmed Jack's heart.

But as soon as Jack swiped to the third picture, it elicited a gasp of awe from Ángel. In that image, a striking black Andalusian horse stood tall against a backdrop of hills. Its glossy coat seemed to absorb the sunlight, giving the horse a beautiful shine. Ángel's brown eyes widened as he took in the creature, captivated by its beauty and strength.

Jack couldn't help but smile at Ángel's reaction. "That's Andor," he said, his voice holding a hint of pride. "He's the most majestic horse on the ranch, the true definition of a stallion. We'll make sure you get to meet all of them when you visit."

Ángel's excitement bubbled over as he delved into his vision for their ranch visit. He continued to rattle off a list of activities, his imagination running wild with possibilities. "Maybe we can play with the horses, Mr. Jack! And feed them apples! Wait, do they actually eat apples? And... and,” His voice trailed off briefly as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh my God! How many horses do you have?" Ángel's eyes sparkled with excitement, his curiosity genuine.

"Lots of horses. More than these three,” He shook his phone. “Big ones, small ones, all sorts of them. Would you like to ride one?"

Ángel's eyes widened, and he practically bounced in his hospital bed. "Can I, Daddy? Mommy? Please!"

Javier chuckled at Ángel's excitement and nodded in agreement. "Of course, Ángel. I'm sure Jack can teach you how to ride safely."

“Can I ride Andor?” Ángel asked, his excitement apparent.

Jack paused for a moment, considering. He knew Andor was a spirited horse and perhaps not the best choice for Ángel's first ride. "It'll take a while to ride that one. How about we start with Bubbles?" Jack suggested, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Ángel thought it over, a slight frown forming as he passed his tongue over his cheek. His brows furrowed in contemplation, and then a cute, hopeful, and bright smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Can I ride Andor eventually?"

At this moment, Jack knew there was little his son could ask for that he wouldn’t immediately hand over. However, he understood it wasn't his place to make decisions about Ángel's life. After a brief moment of hesitation, he replied, “Eventually. If your… parents agree.” It stung to refer to Javi as his son’s parent, but a big part of him reminded him that he had brought this on himself.

You chimed in with a warm smile. "We'll discuss it when the time comes, Ángel. If it's something you really want to do, and it's safe, we'll certainly consider it."

His eyes dimmed slightly in momentary disappointment. But the resilient spark in his eyes quickly returned as he nodded and said, "Muy bien.” (very well)

Jack, sensing Ángel's momentary letdown, decided to distract him. "Speaking of horses," he began, "would you like to hear a funny story about another one?"

Ángel's curiosity was instantly piqued, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please!"

With a twinkle in his eye, Jack leaned in closer. "Now, Ángel, let me tell you about Randy, the sneakiest horse you'll ever meet. One sunny morning, just like today, Randy decided he was tired of the usual hay and grains. He had his eye on something sweeter."

Wide-eyed and intrigued, Ángel leaned closer. "What did he want, Mr. Jack?"

"Apples, my boy! The juiciest, crunchiest apples you could imagine. So while having his roaming time, he jumped a fence that was under construction and onto the Apple orchard."

Giggles escaped Ángel's lips. "He snuck into the orchard?"

Jack nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, he sure did. And there he was, surrounded by my apple trees loaded with ripe, red apples. I woulda been fine if Randy ate a few, but he was a bit of a greedy horse."

Ángel's eyes widened with anticipation. "What did he do?"

Chuckling softly, Jack continued, "Well, instead of just taking one apple, like any sensible horse would, Randy went from tree to tree, until he'd eaten all but two apples!"

Your son’s laughter filled the room. "Almost all of them?"

Jack nodded, his voice filled with mirth. "Almost! And when the ranch hands found him, only one tree had two apples left. In his defense though, there weren’t many apples on the trees. Everyone had a good laugh once the vet was called.”

Clapping his hands with delight, Ángel exclaimed, "That's a funny story, Mr. Jack!"

Smiling from ear to ear, Jack replied, "It sure is, Ángel. And when you visit, you can meet Randy. He's much better behaved now. "

“I’m glad Randy didn’t get sick.” Ángel said with a thoughtful look. Before Jack could respond, a shadow of sadness crossed Ángel's face, and he shifted the topic, his voice growing quieter. "Did you know horses don't throw up?" He asked Jack, his brown eyes focused intently. "I wish I were part horse; then, my food and medicine wouldn't make me throw up."

Everyone was silent for a while not knowing what to say. Your heart ached for your son, and you wanted to say something that would bring him comfort—racking your brain thinking how to do so. You get up from your seat and gently reach out, placing your hand on Ángel's. "Sweetie," you began softly, "I know it's tough, and we're so proud of how strong you are. Being part horse might sound fun, but you're our incredible, amazing boy just the way you are. And you know what? Horses can't have all the fun things you have. They can't watch your favorite movies or they can’t have dairy so no ice cream." You managed a smile, hoping to reassure him.

Javier chimed in, his voice full of love and support. "That's right, mi niño (my boy). We love you just the way you are. I promise you we’re doing everything we can so you won’t be here for much longer."

"Ángel," he began, leaning in closer to the young boy, "I want you to know something really, really important." Jack's voice carried a warmth and sincerity that was impossible to miss. "You are an incredibly special kid. You've shown so much strength, more than most people could ever imagine." His eyes locked onto Ángel's, filled with admiration.

Jack's smile was encouraging, like a reassuring hand on Ángel's shoulder. "You're brave, Ángel. So, so brave. And I'm not just sayin’ that. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. You've been through a lot, but you keep going, and that's something truly amazing."

With a gentle and affectionate pat on Ángel's hand, Jack continued, "Hang on, okay? We’ll get you outta this hospital as soon as we can. And then, we're gonna have so much fun together at the movies, ranch, and anything you want." Jack's words were filled with genuine enthusiasm, meant to uplift Ángel's spirits.

Ángel's eyes brightened at the sincerity in Jack's words. He absorbed the praise like a sponge, his tiny chest puffing out with pride. His eyes moved from one loving face to another, absorbing their words like a lifeline. Though still tinged with sadness, his voice held a touch of hope as he replied, "Los amo mami y papi." (I love you, Mommy and Daddy)

A shy but radiant smile spread across his face as he looked up at Jack. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'll be brave, just like you said, Mr. Jack."

Jack patted Ángel's head affectionately. "No need to thank me, buddy."

Tears of love and pride welled up in your eyes as you leaned in to kiss his forehead. "We love you too, papito (baby), more than anything in the world."

A soft knock resonated throughout the room, and Javier called out for the person to come in.

The door swung open, and Ruth, Ángel's morning nurse, entered with her scrubs adorned with colorful teddy bears.

"Good mornin’,” She greeted with a kind smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Ángel, his eyes still shining with the love and reassurance from his parents and Jack offered a small but genuine smile to the Nurse. "No, it's okay," he replied softly. "We were just talking."

"Great! Then are you okay with me taking you downstairs for some tests?" she said gently. Then, she turned to you and Javier, asking, "Mom, Dad, is now a good time? Y’all are welcome to come with."

"Yes, now is fine," you agreed, your voice laced with gratitude. "We'll come along with him. Thank you for letting us be there."

Javier echoed your sentiments, "Absolutely, we want to be with him."

Jack stepped away from Ángel’s bed when he saw the nurse had a wheelchair with her.

Nurse Ruth smiled kindly at your willingness to accompany Ángel and your words of gratitude. "Of course, it's important for families to be together during these times. I'll make sure Ángel's as comfortable as possible during the tests. Let's get everything set up, shall we?"

"Alright, Ángel," Nurse Ruth said gently, "I'll just adjust your IV pole here so it can move along with you." She carefully disconnected his IV from its stand and secured the IV pole to the wheelchair, making sure it was stable and within easy reach.

As she prepared Ángel for the wheelchair, you leaned over and smoothed out his hospital gown to ensure it was comfortable and wouldn't catch on anything.

Javier took charge of folding up Ángel's favorite blanket, his movements gentle and precise. He placed it neatly over the backrest of the wheelchair, creating a cushioned spot for his son to sit on.

Ángel carefully positioned his hospital-clad feet on the chair's pedals, making sure the baby blue sock with grips was securely in place.

It was all a practiced routine that was mastered a few days after Ángel’s admission.

The Nurse smiled at the collaborative effort. "You're a great team." she complimented before gently moving the wheelchair toward the door.

You noticed Jack standing at the side awkwardly, and you could see how intently he stared at your son- as if he was memorizing every move he made. Sensing his desire for a proper goodbye, you decided to give them a moment.

"Nurse Ruth, if it's alright, could we have a few moments to say goodbye to our guest? We'll catch up with you in just a bit."

She nodded understandingly and stepped out into the hallway, leaving you, Javier, Ángel, and Jack together in the room.

You turned to your son and asked, "Ángel, how do you feel about Jack coming back to see you?"

Ángel, a mix of emotions dancing in his young eyes, replied, "He's nice, mami (mommy). I like him." He then turned his gaze to Jack and smiled warmly. "I hope you come back soon."

Jack, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he would have to leave his son behind, crouched down to Ángel's eye level. He spoke gently, his voice filled with both longing and love. "I hope so too, buddy. I'll be thinking about you all the time."

Ángel, not fully grasping the complexities of the situation but feeling the genuine care in Jack's words, extended his small hand toward him. "See you soon, Mr. Jack."

Jack took Ángel's tiny hand in his, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface. "See you soon, Ángel. Take care, alright?"

As Jack reluctantly released Ángel's hand, his eyes held a mixture of pain and hope. He knew he had to leave for now, but he also knew he would see him again.

You watched as Javier and Ángel made their way out of the room to Nurse Ruth. Javier recognized the look in your eyes and understood that you wanted to speak with Jack privately. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, whispering, "We'll see you soon."

You returned the kiss and nodded. Once they were out of sight, Jack turned to you.

“Can I have your phone number?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I don't want to keep talking through Raul." Jack had grown tired of the impersonal nature of communicating through your lawyer; it felt like a barrier between him, you, and his son, and he hated it.

You understood the sentiment behind his request, and despite the complexities of your history, you could sense his genuine desire to be more present in Ángel's life.

“Give me your phone.” You extended your hand, prompting him to quickly hand over his Motorola. As you took the phone, you forgot that you’d seen it earlier and once again the memories of your past life together briefly flickered through your mind.

“Your phone… it’s still-“

Jack interrupted, “The same. Yeah. And it’s my same number, so…”

“Oh,” you said in a flat tone, not letting your emotions show too much. “Uh… at least it still works,” you said, almost ignoring the fact that he didn’t change his phone number after the divorce, unlike you. “When you were showing it off to Ángel, I thought it was going to fall apart.” You laughed, and everything in that moment made Jack’s heart race.

Jack joined in the laughter. "It's a tough old thing, but it's been with me through a lot," he admitted, his gaze briefly distant as if he was reminiscing. But he didn’t reveal the reason why he kept his phone after so many years.

“So you’ve got ranch money now?” You asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the emotional minefield that lay between you two.

“Yeah, I got promoted,” he replied.

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, masking the mixed emotions swirling within you. “That’s… that’s good.”

Jack wanted to stay in that moment with you, but you, on the other hand, felt like you couldn’t be there any longer. But before you left, you wanted to give him something.

You opened your small purse and pulled out a picture. It was a snapshot of Ángel when he was four years old. The image captured a family trip on a snowy day, and Ángel was bundled up in a fluffy red jacket with the cutest red and blue knitted hat.

Jack noticed the picture in your hand, and he couldn't tear his eyes off it. You handed him the small Polaroid and said, “Keep it. I have more at my house.”

My house. Echoed through Jack’s mind. Not our house. It was a stark reminder that the life he once shared with you and Ángel had irrevocably changed.

He raised his head to look at you, his face mirroring the same expression Ángel had given multiple times – brows furrowed, lips turned down in a mixture of confusion and sadness.

"Thank you." Jack finally replied, his voice on the verge of cracking.

You nodded in acknowledgment and said, “I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“If… if I’m not a match, we’ll figure something out, I prom-” Jack stammered. He realized you probably wouldn’t believe his promises, so he chose his words carefully. “I know so.”

“Thanks,” you replied, your tone tinged with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

Then, Jack's expression shifted to one of concern. “Oh, wait, his insurance, do you and…” He hesitated before mentioning your husband's name as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “J-Javier have to pay for anything?”

“No. His insurance covers everything, thankfully.” You reassured him, relieved that, at least in this difficult situation, financial concerns weren't adding to the burden.

Jack, visibly relieved to hear that financial worries wouldn't add to the stress, spoke up, his voice carrying a sense of sincerity. "I'd be more than happy to cover any of his expenses now and in the future."

You offered a small, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Jack. We'll talk about it later, alright? Right now, I have to go catch up with them. Take care. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you turned and headed for the door, leaving Jack to his thoughts, the Polaroid picture of a young Ángel clutched tightly in his hand. A heavy ache settled in his chest, a feeling of pain that was almost unbearable. It felt like a part of him had stayed with you and Ángel, and he couldn't shake the sense of loss that washed over him.

Time seemed to blur as he stood there. Eventually, he snapped back to reality and pulled his phone out. With trembling fingers, he dialed a familiar number as he made his way out of the hospital.

Extended note: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them! I promise I'll try to engage more!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr

If you're feeling angsty, maybe you'd like to read a heartbreaking story featuring Joel Miller- Que Vuelva (Hoy me muero yo).

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 months

Note

hey steph!! would you happen to have any more drunk/drinking fics? i adore them sm xD

thank you so much <3

Hi Lovely!!

I do I DO! And enough to make your request a new list!! Thank you!!!

Hope these please you! And if anyone has newer fics to add, as always, I welcome you to add them to the post!

DRUNK AND DRINKING JOHNLOCK Pt. 3

See also:

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock Pt 2

Drinking Games / Hanging Out (Oct 2023)

Cute-Drunk Sherlock

Tipsy by katkin (T, 2,781 w., 2 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk Sherlock) – "I love everyone in this room," he announced proudly."I know you do, buddy," John replied "Which is why you're going to clean this carpet in the morning. Because you're a good friend." "I am a good friend!" Sherlock agreed.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion.

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Past Soldier John, Panic Attacks, POV Alternating Present Tense, Anxious John, Canon Adjacent, Deductions, Obsessive Sherlock,, Travelling, Sherlock’s Family, Jealous Sherlock, Mind Palace John, Awkward Flirting, Batting Cage, Kidnapped/Abducted John, Semi-Reverse Reichenbach, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Hospital, Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma John, Forehead Touching, Hand Holding, Drinking/Bars, Past Jolto) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #drinking fics #drinks and drinking #alcohol cw #drunk characters fics #drinking game fics #my fic recs

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jerzwriter · 10 months

Text

Objections: Reunited? (3/3)

Book: Crimes of Passion (Book 2)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose)

Category: Chapter Rewrite - Ch. 4

Rating: Teen

Series: After reading Chapter 4, I felt one scene could have been expanded on, one should have been added, and one could have been better. So, I took a stab at it (pun intended ).

Part Three: After a couple of emotionally grueling days, Trystan and Carolina finally get a moment alone, but it doesn't go as either expected.

Words: 1,750

A/N: I was disappointed with the final scene between Trystan x MC. While I absolutely feel they could have snapped at each other under the circumstances they were in, I don't think the scene captured the closeness, respect, or concern that was always present in Book 1. While I didn't change the scene drastically, I changed the dialogue and some elements that brought it closer to how I imagined it would go. I hope you enjoy it.

SERIES MASTERLIST | COP MASERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Carolina anxiously looked at her watch. It was just shy of 7:00 PM, and her wandering mind was getting the better of her. It had been nearly ten hours since she last saw Trystan, and she was sure she hadn’t gone this long without hearing from him since the day she barged into his life. Not even at the beginning when she sometimes desperately needed a reprieve from the man... Trystan always managed to find a way to be... there.

Curled up in a chair in the palace’s library, she tried to pinpoint when everything changed. When his omnipresence went from an annoyance, to a reality and, finally, to what it was now, cherished. Something she relied upon more than she even knew, though she knew she never wanted to do without it again. In reality, they hadn’t known each other very long, but what is time when you meet someone that makes you feel as if your souls have been intertwined forever.

She placed the only English language book she could find down on an end table. A dusty old tome about Drakovian war history wasn’t about to hold her attention today. She spent most of it holed up in her suite. With the exception of Marguerite, everyone made it abundantly clear that her presence was not welcomed, and her room felt like the safest place to wait.

Luke and Ruby attempted to take her sightseeing, knowing it would be best to keep her mind occupied. But they knew she’d never leave without ensuring Trystan was all right first. Jetlagged, and with the emotion of recent days catching up to her, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, and wherever it traveled, it left her more anxious than before.

All this had her off her game because she had never heard the footsteps coming up from behind. Her first indication that he was near was two warm hands covering her eyes, and for once, her visceral reaction was not to take the perpetrator out.

“Guess who, gorgeous?”

Her body slumped against his, her tension visibly released with just three words from his lips. The castle suddenly felt smaller; she was no longer alone.

“I don’t know? Is it my new Drakovian boyfriend, Milosh? Or perhaps someone more sinister.”

“Milosh, huh?” Trystan’s hands dropped to her waist, and he pulled her close. “I never liked that guy. I’m going to have him fired at once.”

“Is that all? That’s pretty mild. I thought a guillotine might be involved here in Drakovia.”

Trystan smiled softly as he spun her around to face him. “You’re not wrong. That’s the least of what would befall anyone who dared to steal you from me.”

Her arms looped around his neck, and they lost themselves in a tender kiss. A moment’s pleasure in a sea of turmoil.

“No one is stealing you from me,” she insisted.

“Good,” Trystan smiled, the relief in his eyes more than Carolina had expected to see as he gently tugged her toward a nearby sofa. He let out a loud yawn as he settled down.

“It has been a long day,” she smiled.

“Long days,” he corrected. “And this one was quite unexpected.”

“What happened after I left? What happened with your parents?”

“Well,” he ran a hand down his weary face. “They weren’t joking when they said ‘effective immediately.’ I think I’ve met with no fewer than five foreign dignitaries, sat through two lectures, and had one very long lunch where I was to prove I still know how to behave at the table. Oh, and I knighted a snake.”

“A snake?”

“It wasn’t any old snake, dear. It did rescue its owner – a marchioness – from the wolf that got onto her property.”

“Hmmm, and all I’ve done is save a Drakovian princess from a serial killer.”

“You make an excellent point. I suppose the realm owes you a tap on the shoulder with a sword. I’ll see if I can get to it after the hundred other things I have on my plate.”

“A damehood is nothing I’ve ever aspired to, so allow me to take that off your list of things to do. But, these other hundred things... what exactly do you need to do?”

“Well,” he sighed. His fingers curled tightly around her hand, but for once, words seemed to fail him. Carolina felt her blood growing colder with every second of silence that fell between them.

“We have a flight out tomorrow afternoon...is that still happening?”

“About that,” Trystan whispered. “I was hoping I might convince you to stay.”

“Stay? I’ve been afraid to eat my food with the way I’ve been treated here... why would you think I... wait... you want to stay?”

“I...I’m not sure.”

“Trystan,” she gasped, clutching his hand tighter. “Did you think this was a possibility?”

“To be reinstated as heir,” he replied, eyes wide. “No... I never expected to be found innocent, much less be called upon to be the next in line once again.”

“So, then tell them no. After all they’ve put you through... You don’t want this... do you?”

“Carolina, I don’t know what I want. I need time to get my head around what happened today.”

“What’s there to get around? I saw the look on your face when your father made the announcement – you don’t want this! I know you don’t!”

Trystan’s eyes flashed with surprise and hurt as he pulled his hand from hers.

“I don’t appreciate that tone!” He huffed. “It’s amazing that you know what I want when I don’t know that myself!”

“You don’t appreciate my tone? Trystan, I put my whole damn life on hold to come here and be with you, and I...”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

“You didn’t have to! Don’t you understand how much you mean to me? Do you think I’d leave you to face bullshit murder charges alone?”

“No! But I didn’t think you’d leave me to face this on my own either!”

“That’s not fair! I’m not some exiled princess with a bottomless trust fund, Trystan! I’m a private investigator who lives above a bar. People like me don’t just get to put their lives on hold without consequences.”

“If money’s the problem, I can help you.”

“What? I don’t want your money! And that’s far from my only concern! My life is in New York! And I’m not wanted here. I’m not so sure you are, either. Think about it! They abandoned you and were willing to put you away for life just yesterday! It took Luke and me one afternoon to find proof that you were innocent! They had eight freaking years and more resources than we could imagine, and they didn’t do it? And you’re going to trust them?”

“It’s not all about them, Carolina! You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to live your life, but you don’t know what it’s like to live mine! My obligations are to more than just my family! There is a country... a country full of people who deserve to have a leader who cares about them! A leader that would turn Drakovia into the country Juliana and I envisioned!”

Carolina stepped back, her face softening as realization began to wash over her.

“Wait,” she whispered as she began moving back toward him. “Juliana... is that why? Trystan,” she whispered, taking his hand back in hers. “I understand you want to honor her, to fight for what she believed in, but I think Juliana would want you to be happy.”

“You didn’t know her,” he shot back. “How could you know what she’d want?”

“I... I didn’t know her... so... perhaps you’re right. But I know what it feels like to care about you this much, and I know I’d only want you to be happy... from what you’ve told me about Juliana... I can’t imagine she’d feel differently.”

Trystan turned to Carolina; his tear-filled eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

“Don’t you want me to be happy now?” He asked.

“Yes. Of course, I do...” Her voice cracked with emotion, and Trystan pulled her into his arms, holding her close with all his might.

“And I would be the entitled, selfish ass my family believes me to be if I expected you to care about my happiness while I didn’t care about yours. I’m ashamed to say it, but there was a time when I’d be comfortable doing such a thing to someone I cared for so deeply. Believing my needs mattered more than all others. But that’s not who I am anymore, and I don’t want to return to being that way.”

Carolina burrowed her face into Trystan’s shoulder, allowing his jacket to absorb the few tears she couldn’t hold at bay.

“So, what does that mean for us?” she cried. “If what you need, and what I need to be happy... are a world away?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I know I don’t want to lose you.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind, then.”

Trystan extended his arms, holding Carolina by the shoulders as he looked into her eyes.

“I haven’t. I’d tell you if I did. I’m sorry, Carolina. The past few days have been grueling, and this probably wasn’t the best time for me to bring this up with you.”

“It’s all right. I’m not in the best place to have this conversation, either.”

Trystan placed a kiss on the top of her head, gently stroking her hair as her arms encircled him.

“Luckily for us, we don’t have to have all the answers tonight,” he whispered. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“That’s probably the smartest thing you’ve said all night,” Carolina teased.

“Agree,” he chuckled. “But if I’m going to sleep, I’d like to do it with you in my arms.”

“I’m not supposed to be in your room.”

“Really? That didn’t stop you last night,” Trystan smirked. “Please. I need you.”

“I need you, too,” Carolina replied with a kiss. Trystan extended his hand.

“Come with me. If I see that we’re being watched along the way, I’ll devise another plan.”

“I like that,” she smiled. “You take over the private eye duties for the night.”

Carolina nuzzled her head into his shoulder, his presence making an unwelcoming place feel more like home. But the detective in Carolina never rested, and as they approached Trystan’s room, something felt wrong. She lifted her head from his shoulder just as he reached for the door.

“Trystan, that smell... do you...”

“Oh, no!”

~~~

Yeah, another day, another dead body. lol Let's see what PB has planned for us in Chapter 5.

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

Other tags in Reblog.

#choices fanfic #playchoices #choices the stories you play #crimes of passion #crimes of passion 2 #choices crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x mc #trystan thorne x f!mc #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #playchoices fanfic

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darlingpoppet · 5 months

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Where The Dead Forget — Chapter 6: Guilt

Hades Gameverse Memory Loss AU | Achilles/Patroclus | E | Chapters: 6/22 | Words: 60,353 (Ch 6: 9,450 words)

Chapter 6 Summary: Achilles reflects on his reunion with Patroclus and has bad dreams. Hypnos demonstrates his abilities as an ASMR youtuber. Patroclus tells a story. Achilles has a better dream.

Excerpt:

Achilles enters his bedchamber, his mind as cluttered as the room before him. The sight of it at once makes him weary, and he sinks onto his pallet with a heaving sigh.

Why won’t you just… forget about eternal glory? The both of us together… don’t you see? We are already glorious.

On the journey home, Achilles had turned the pages of his memories, rereading them all with fresh eyes. The low simmering sense of revulsion in the pit of his stomach had only grown more acute as he traveled lower into hell, and now, back in the depths of Tartarus, he feels deserving of its darkness and its isolation more than ever.

There is no one in the world who loves me more than you, is that not so? So then… why not let me be the one who loves you the most?”

“Indeed,” he mutters aloud into the silence of the room. “It is a question I should have asked as well. Why couldn’t I have allowed myself to be the one who loved you the most, in turn? Glory be damned.”

Achilles has realized he is even more of a fool than he thought. How could he have forgotten Patroclus’ words at this crucial moment? How could he have not even listened?

Time and again, Achilles has always only been thinking of what he himself wanted for the two of them—never compromising, never considering what would make both of them happy. Has Achilles ever truly seen Patroclus as his own person? Or has Patroclus always been simply an extension of himself in his own mind, someone Achilles could not fathom to separate from his own ego?

Lord Hades had even made the suggestion for both of them to enter Asphodel together—it could have been their second chance at the modest, peaceful existence Achilles had eschewed in favor of a life of glory. How careless he had been to immediately reject it out of hand.

And now, here is the consequence. Patroclus was left with no choice, and so he drank—the ultimate act of defiance—in order to reclaim his agency once and for all. The nature of his memory made it apparent that this was an extraction with all the precision of a surgeon’s knife, wholly himself but for that one missing piece: the metastasized part of Patroclus which had drained the vitality of his very soul, slowly killing even his eternal self. Even then, it seemed, it had been too late, with Patroclus left completely spiritless and despondent. But perhaps in his mind, it was better to be miserable and alone by his own choice, rather than to be tormented by the memories of a man who did not truly honor him the way he should have.

Read the rest here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43292178/chapters/132992266

Previous Chapters: 1. Drown | 2. Grief | 3. Grace | 4. Weakness | 5. Together

#where the dead forget #patrochilles #hades patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #hades game #hades fanfic #the iliad #tsoa #the song of achilles #my fics #please note the rating change and content warnings for this chapter #i have a lot of ambivalent feelings about this one but mostly I’m relieved it’s done #i might make another rambling post later because I have bts thoughts I want to get off my chest #or maybe I should just let it speak for itself lol #anyway please enjoy #btw what is it with me posting on the 27th of the month #this is the 3rd time #out of 6 chapters so far

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stormyjane7 · 6 months

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A Hope For Tomorrow: Ch 6 Tomorrow Starts Today

Summary: The future calls with wedding bells.

Pairing: Astarion x AFAB Reader,

Warnings: Sex. 18+ only readers

Word Count: 911

Rating: If you are under 18, please do not read.

Read on Ao3 Final chapter guys! i really hope you've enjoyed reading. Going to start doing some one shots now. <3

Time felt it had finally sped up as you and your vampire lover were putting the final touches to your outdoor wedding. You had made it back to Baldur’s Gate about a month ago after spending time with Gale in Waterdeep to rest. The adventure of finding the ring had exhausted both of you and definitely needed the respite.

As soon as you landed in Baldur’s Gate, you and your lover went straight to work. Astarion focused on selling the rest of the Szarr estate and lands. It thankfully brought in so much gold you wouldn’t have to worry for a long long time. You went around finding a nice cottage just outside the Gate to use as a new home.

Between all that you also both worked to get your outfits ready and let your friends know where to come for the nuptials. And as the eve approached, your friends started to show up with much merriment in their hearts.

Gale was one of the first to arrive. Being able to teleport anywhere had its advantages. He hugged and spoke briefly to both of you before excusing himself and Astarion off to the side. You didn’t have time to listen in as Shadowheart showed up next and was wrapping you in a big hug. She was starting to go over the details of what she was going to do as officiant when you notice Astarion being super excited over a box Gale was handing him. You were sure you’d find out later what it was.

The rest of your guests arrived and the feast you were having catered was ready. Everyone sat down to enjoy the night before the wedding and each other’s presence. Stories from everyone’s time since the Nether brain filled the air with much laughter and praise. You ended the night giving a toast to your friends and to your vampire lover. You ushered everyone in so they could rest for the next day.

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

“Beloved friends who are more like family now, we are gathered here to celebrate a part of this family tying their lives together forevermore.” Shadowheart spoke softly but loud for everyone to hear. “The battles of the past were hard fought, but nothing compares to the fight to live a good marriage.”

She turned towards Astarion as she continued speaking, “While most brides and grooms exchange rings, our friends have decided to use the Sunwalker’s ring for Astarion’s band. I think you can all understand why he won’t remove it during such a strong sunlit day.” A few chuckles were had between the group.

“I do have a ring, however, for my love to wear and I hope she appreciates it as much as I do.” You see him pull the box out that Gale gave him yesterday. He opens it before you, and in the box was a ring with a stone matching his Sunwalker ring. Your face lit up at how the thought behind this was so lovely and special. He takes it out and slides it onto your ring finger. A sudden magical shift in your body takes place, one that normally happens when you attune to a new magical item. You look at your love with a surprised and confused look on your face. He leans in closer to you.

“Don’t worry about that right now, darling. I’ll tell you everything once we are alone tonight.” You smile and nod.

“And with the rings exchanged, the vows said, you may now kiss your bride!” Shadowheart said with much love.

Everyone stood up and cheered as Astarion dipped you into a kiss. You were fully flushed by the time he stood you back up straight.

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

It was a day or so before the last of your friends left and you were finally alone with your now husband. You were both sitting on the couch curled up together.

“Now that we are finally alone dear husband, I cannot take the suspense any longer! Please tell me what this ring does before I use one of our last detect items on it.” He chuckles at your aggressive nature.

He puts his hand under your chin and turns you to face him. He plants a small kiss to your lips.

“Well, my dearest wife, I found this ring while we were in Waterdeep. Besides us only Gale will know it’s power as I do not wish anyone to hunt us down for it. Gale called in a favor to get a wish scroll to use for you.”

“This is not helping me feel any better about this…dearest.”

“While you wear this ring, you will never age nor die to old age. You are as eternal as I am. Just without the vampire nature.”

Your eyes switch between looking at your love and at the ring.

“What an amazing gift you have given me Astarion!”

“Now we should generally not worry about losing one another. And should we tire of this world, all we have to do is have you take your ring off and let time start again for you. Whenever you go I’ll be right behind. We can leave the rings for another besotted vampire and mortal.”

“You don’t think you’ll tire of me? We could live for eons!”

“That sounds delightful, darling. Till the world falls down around us!” He brings you in to a deep kiss and you feel the truth of his words. Till the world falls down indeed.

#astarion #astarion x reader

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

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Chronicles of the Domain Ch 3 (BotW fic)

Summary: When a Hylian delegation is sent to Zora's Domain, no one really expected a child to be part of the group. Nevertheless, little Link steadily finds his place in this new strange world, while politics and worries prevail among the adults.

Read on AO3

Chapter 3 - Baby Link's Adventure!

This place was so big. He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave, but he really wanted to.

Papa had eaten breakfast with him and then the captain said Papa had to go guard some important people, which left Link all alone.

Well. Not all alone. Some other soldiers were here too. Link didn’t remember their names. There was one who shared a room with him and Papa. He had heard his name the most. Was it Nor? Maybe.

Then there were the others. One had freckles and red hair and looked like one of his neighbors back home, so he was Neighbor Soldier. Then there was one whose black hair was kept in braids so tight Link could see the skin on his head. They were in rows. They looked kind of cool. So he was Braids Soldier.

So far Link had noticed that sometimes some people would stay in their big room area and sometimes they would go to protect the important people. He guessed their duties changed every day. Papa seemed to guard a lot. But that was because Papa was really good at fighting. Link would be too someday. He was going to make Papa proud.

Today Neighbor Soldier and Nor were standing in the kind of house they were in. Papa and Braids Soldier were guarding with the captain.

Link missed Papa.

“Hey little guy,” one of the knights said with a smile. “Whatcha up to?”

“There are frogs,” Link said. “I wanna see the frogs.”

“Oh? Where are the frogs?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I want to find out!” Link said. “You can’t know where frogs are if you don’t look.”

Neighbor Soldier giggled in that low way that Papa did sometimes. “I guess you’re right. Maybe there are some hiding in your bedroom?”

“That’s silly,” Link said. “Frogs don’t need beds.”

“Are you sure?” Braids Soldier asked. “I thought I saw one sleeping in a bed the other day.”

Link squinted for a second. That didn’t seem right. But he guessed he should really check to be sure. He ran back to his room, peeking under the bed, on the pillow, under the pillow, and in the blankets. Then he stared at the bed and got a little sad because Papa wasn’t there. But definitely no frogs.

He knew there were frogs here, though! And if there were frogs, what else was here? He had to find stuff, and then he could show Papa! And then they could practice fighting together! Papa loved sword fighting.

Link headed out from his bedroom. Paused and thought about it. Went back to his bedroom to grab Mr. Moo, who had come from home with them. He’d forgotten Mr. Moo the last time he went out and now he felt bad about it. He squeezed the little plushie cow tightly as he peeked around to see the knights standing guard.

Papa said he had to stay here. But Papa had seen him leave before and hadn’t gotten that mad. Except he got mad the other day. But Link wanted to go. But Link didn’t want Papa to get mad.

But Link wanted to go. So he went.

Outside of the area where the knights stayed was big and open and wet. Why was water everywhere? He guessed it was because of the funny fish people. Fish liked water. But they weren’t swimming in it, which was weird. They were supposed to swim in it. They weren’t actually fish people, then. They were just silly looking.

He wondered if the funny looking girl who made his cut go away was somewhere close.

There were lots of people here. He felt a little weird for being the only normal one, as they all looked weird and kept staring at him. But he wanted to find frogs, so he would.

Oh! Something different! It glowed too. But it was much smaller than a frog. It looked like a glowy snail! He’d never seen snails glow! It was weird because when he put it in the sun it was normal but when he put it in the shade it kind of glowed. He wanted to show Papa, so he put the snail in his shirt. It was kind of sticky but he stopped noticing after a while.

“Stop right there!”

Link jumped a little, looking around to see who had yelled at him. He saw another one of the funny looking people, but this one was small, like he was a kid his age. He wasn’t the girl who fixed his cut because he had black skin instead of pink, and his weird skirt thing and arm flap things were different colors too. He ran over to Link.

“You’re a Hylian!” he said, pointing at Link.

Link scrunched his nose.

“You look weird!” the boy continued. “That’s how I know! You don’t look like a normal Zora boy. You… you are a boy, right?”

“Yeah,” Link replied. “Are you?”

The boy stomped his foot. “Yeah!”

“Well you look funny too,” Link pointed out, crossing his arms.

“No, I don’t! I look normal!” the boy argued. “My name’s Bazz. My Dad is a knight and I’m gonna be one too, and I’m patrolling the Domain. You’re supposed to be with the Hylians.”

Link scrunched his face. “Where’s your sword?”

Bazz blinked. “What?”

“You said you’re gonna be a knight and you’re patrolling but you’ve got no sword!”

“We use spears,” Bazz huffed. “I mean. Some of us have swords too, but a lot of us use spears.”

“So where’s your spear?”

“I don’t have one yet!” Bazz answered. “I’m too little. But I can still patrol.”

“I have a sword,” Link said.

“No you don’t!” Bazz argued.

“Yeah I do!” Link argued back. “Look!”

With that, Link motioned for Bazz to follow him, and the two ran back to the home Link was staying in. Nor stared at him as he ran by, asking him a question, but Link ignored him for a second. Mama told him he shouldn’t do that, but this was important. He wanted to show Bazz his sword so he could prove he was a knight because Bazz was being dumb and he didn’t like it.

Link slid under the bed before pulling out the wooden sword. “See?”

Bazz stared, and he suddenly didn’t seem annoyed anymore. “Whoa! You have an actual sword? Well, it’s not actual, but—you have a sword!”

Link smiled, suddenly excited. “Yeah! You wanna see how it works?”

“You swing it, duh.”

“What are you two doing in here?”

The boys gasped, turning to see Neighbor Soldier watching them from the doorway. His freckles moved as he frowned, and then he asked Bazz, “And who might you be, little one? This is the Hylian area, I’m afraid. You should go.”

“But he’s my friend,” Link said quickly.

“Oh?” Neighbor Soldier laughed. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess he can stay a little bit. But listen, kid, I’m going to help you find your parents by noon, okay? No lunch here.”

Bazz nodded a little timidly, watching Neighbor Soldier leave. Link smiled at him. “Don’t worry, he’s nice.”

“Dad’s not so sure,” Bazz said quietly. “He says Hylians can’t be trusted. But you seem kind of okay, I guess.”

“I can show you how to fight with the sword,” Link offered, eager to share.

Bazz immediately smiled and laughed. “That would be great!”

The two ran out of the bedroom so Link could find something for Bazz to fight with. When Neighbor Soldier said Link couldn’t have a real sword, the two huffed and headed outside of the house area again. Link found another snail and put it in his shirt with the others and then when they couldn’t find another sword, Bazz said they could go outside the Domain and look for sticks there because there was grass and trees there. Link agreed, as it sounded like a good idea, but Bazz said he would have to sneak by guards, and Link wasn’t sure that was a good idea because Papa might get upset if he went too far.

But the sword fighting seemed really cool. So Link really thought hard about it.

In the end, though, he told Bazz they could sneak tomorrow. He would ask Papa. He wanted to show Papa his snails too. So instead of fighting today, Link showed Bazz Mr. Moo. Bazz thought Mr. Moo was really cool, and Link liked that. As the two talked about Mr. Moo, Bazz told Link about different things about the funny people (Zora? Bazz said they were called Zora) and Link liked hearing about it. Link asked about the girl from the other day, and Bazz said it sounded like Princess Mipha. Princess seemed like a weird first name, but Link didn’t mention it.

As Link said his goodbye to Bazz for lunchtime, he saw a familiar face, and he ran towards her. “Hey! You fixed my cut.”

Princess Mipha, maybe, looked at him and then smiled, though she kind of hid behind the railing of the stairs. “Yes. I’m glad you’re not hurt today.”

Link stared at her, wondering what he should say next. Then he held out Mr. Moo. “Do you want to see Mr. Moo?”

Princess Mipha walked towards him curiously, and the two sat in the water as Link explained all about Mr. Moo’s life back home. He wouldn’t let her touch Mr. Moo, though. He liked him a lot and didn’t want him to get hurt or wet.

“Link?”

Link gasped, turning. “Papa!”

Papa watched him confusedly, hand resting on his sword hilt, before he relaxed a little. “What are you doing out here?”

Link suddenly felt a little guilty, but he reached into his shirt and pulled out the snails instead. “Look what I found! I couldn’t find any frogs though, and I wanted to find frogs, but these snails glow, Papa! Like if you put them out of the sunlight they glow, they made my hands glow, but they’re not like lanterns because they’re not that warm and they’re kind of slimy.”

Papa looked between Link and Princess Mipha, and he did a strange kind of bow towards Princess Mipha. “Your Highness.”

Link looked at him, confused. Why wasn’t he noticing him? “Papa, look at the snails.”

“I see them, son,” Papa said. “But you shouldn’t be out here. We talked about this.”

“I was showing her the snails and Mr. Moo.”

Papa blinked. Then he blinked again. “Mr. Moo?”

Link showed his plushie. “I brought him from home.”

Papa smiled a little. “Link, that’s a heifer, not a bull.”

“Huh?” Link stared at his plushie and then back at Papa, frowning. “Mr. Moo is a cow.”

“But bulls are boy cows and heifers are girl cows,” Papa explained. “Your cow has udders, she’s a girl and she’s a mama.”

“Udders?”

“For milk, son.”

Link stared thoughtfully at Mr. Moo as Papa spoke to Princess Mipha. Princess Mipha said something about needing to see her father, and Link gasped as he realized something.

“She has boobies?” Link asked, staring at his Papa intensely and shaking his cow plushie.

Papa blinked again, making a funny face. “Link—”

Link gasped again, coming to an even better realization. “She has moobies!”

Papa coughed. “Link, no—”

Link immediately showed Princess Mipha. “I was wrong, this isn’t a mister! She’s a mama and she has moobies!”

“What are moobies?” Princess Mipha asked.

“Goddess Hylia,” Papa muttered, rubbing his face. Why was he talking to the goddess when he wasn’t praying?

“Moobies are for milk for cows, and boobies are for milk for Hylians!” Link explained importantly. Then he grew confused. “Do Zora have boobies?”

“Link,” Papa hissed. “That’s enough.”

Link could tell Papa was getting mad. He closed his mouth, not sure what was wrong, but he hesitantly held Mrs. Moo a little tighter. Papa sighed, telling Princess Mipha he’d take her to lunch. Link felt his eyes sting a little. Why did she get to go to lunch with Papa and not him?

“Papa, I’m hungry,” he said.

Papa paused, watching Link and looking a little sad. “We’ll eat dinner together, son. I promise. But go eat lunch with the other knights, okay? I have guard duty still.”

Oh, that’s why. But what did Princess Mipha have to do with that? Link sighed, hanging his head and going back towards the house place, but he wanted to see where they were going, so he hid behind a wall instead and watched Papa and Princess Mipha leave. Then he followed them, though he didn’t get very far before Bazz stopped him.

“What are you doing?” Bazz asked. “You can’t go to the banquet hall.”

“What’s the banquet hall?” Link asked back.

“That’s where the royal family eats.”

Royal family? Royal family. That sounded familiar. Wasn’t there a Hylian royal family? He remembered they were super important people.

Ooooh. Papa was guarding important people. That made sense. But then why was Princess Mipha there? That seemed silly.

Sighing, Link pouted, but Bazz told him they should explore the Domain together instead, so they did. Link couldn’t believe how big this place was, and the more they looked around, the more he kind of liked it. He was getting hungry, though.

Bazz introduced Link to a friend of his named Rivan, who was a little shorter than Bazz and had brown colored skin where Bazz was black. It looked like all Zora had two skin colors and then flappy fin and skirt things that had colors. But why didn’t they have hair? And why didn’t they wear real clothes? They were all really confused when he asked, and Link told them he’d bring them some shirts to try tomorrow. Bazz said he’d bring Link jewelry, which Link thought was weird because the only jewelry boys usually wore were earrings. He guessed sometimes he saw Grandpapa wear a necklace sometimes. But everything here was shiny jewelry, and that was kind of weird.

Link’s stomach growled, and he flopped in the water sadly. He wanted to eat. He missed Papa. Why did he have to guard important people?

It was his duty. That was why. Link knew that. But he still wished his duty could also include eating lunch with him.

Eventually, Bazz and Rivan said they had to go, and Link dragged his feet back to the Hylian house. Nor watched him and walked to him while Neighbor Soldier kind of didn’t.

“Where’ve you been?” Nor asked. “You know you’re not allowed to wander. Did your father not tell you that?”

“Oh, lay off the kid,” Neighbor Soldier said as he leaned against the wall. “He wants to explore.”

“He could cause problems.”

“He’s making friends,” Neighbor Soldier pointed out. “I’d be more worried about him getting hurt than causing problems. These Zora aren’t exactly the friendliest to Hylians.”

“I made friends,” Link pointed out.

“You sure did, kiddo,” Neighbor Soldier said brightly with a smile. Link smiled back. He liked him. “But Norri does have a point. You shouldn’t wander too much, okay? Not everyone wants to be your friend here.”

“I saw Papa, though.”

“And he didn’t immediately tell you to come back here?” Nor asked, looking annoyed.

Neighbor Soldier rolled his eyes. “Hey Link, why don’t you get some food? Go to the dining area, I’ll bring you a plate.”

Link got excited. He was really hungry. He hurried over to the dining area while the knights started to talk to each other. They sounded kind of angry, and he wasn’t sure why. Was it really that bad that he’d explored the Domain? It had been such a good day, though!

As Neighbor Soldier brought him some food, Link ate it really quickly, excited when he saw Papa come through the door. He was really tired, though, too, but he wanted to tell Papa about his day.

Papa picked him up, kissing him and making him giggle. But before Link could really talk to him, Papa laid him down for a nap, saying he should go to bed early since he didn’t nap earlier in the day. Link pouted at that. He… he just wanted to be with Papa.

Sighing, Link twisted in the blankets. Well. It wasn’t all a bad day. He was maybe kind of starting to like it here. He hoped the letter reached Mama soon so she could come too. And maybe he could talk to Papa tomorrow.

Closing his eyes, he settled in for some sleep, Mrs. Moo clutched firmly in his grasp.

#writing #chronicles of the domain #breath of the wild link #botw link #writing from a 4-year-old's pov was hard but so so fun #Abel will now be forever haunted by the infamous moobies #mrs moo #she gets her own tag #she is a celebrity #mipha #I love zora's domain #legend of zelda #abel #he needs a vacation #with Link #so the poor baby can be with his papa like he wants #and no Abel needs literally no other responsibilities so he can RELAX #will I ever stop torturing this man #skye time travels through the queue

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saibug1022 · 8 months

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Choices Masterlist

This is my masterlist for my choices fics. Also just to clarify, most of my ILITW fics also take place in the same universe as ILW because I've accepted it into my personal canon for my It Lives MCs. ALSO also, all of these are of my MCs, the character profiles for everyone are at the bottom

Blades of Light and Shadow

Walls of Regret

Tyril Starfury x MC, Mal Volari x MC, hints of Tyril x Mal

Hurt/No Comfort

Summary: During an encounter with Valax in the Shadow Realm, Asterin, Mal, and Tyril learn that Asterin's missing year was worse than any of them could have possibly imagined.

The Last Time

Aerin Valleros x MC

Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Summary: After getting injured by Valax in a fight Asterin awakens to find himself being cared for by Aerin and he can't help but think about the night they shared...and how Aerin left.

Funeral of Faith

Aerin Valleros x MC, referenced Tyril x MC and Mal x MC

Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Evil MC

Summary: The Shadow Realm has a new Prince.

My Heart Won't Start Anymore

Tyril Starfury x MC x Mal Volari, references of Aerin x MC and Valax x MC

Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Finally, Asterin breaks. But this time he doesn't do it alone.

Love, I See You Now

Aerin Valleros x MC, reference Tyril x MC and Mal x MC

Angst

Summary: When Asterin gets hurt in the Battle for the Whitetower Rift, the Shadow Aerin thought he got rid of comes back in a burst of rage and fear. But it may not be enough.

It Lives In The Woods

Val's Resurrection Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Lucas Thomas x MC, hints of Noah Marshall x MC

Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After years, finally, finally, Valen Ebony is saved.

It Lives Within

The Morning After

Abel Flint x MC

Fluff

Summary: A sweet little morning scene after the scene in Ch 14.

The Sun's Final Breath

Lincoln McQuoid and MC, Abel Flint x MC (background)

Angst

Summary: Castor Athantis is dead, and something is glowing in Lincoln's pocket.

Revelations

Abel Flint x MC, General

Angst

Summary: "I'm not Castor Athantis...I'm not even human."

Two Birds on a Wire

Lincoln Aquino & ILITW MC, Lincoln Aquino x ILW MC (background), Lucas Thomas x ILITW MC (background)

Fluff

Summary: After weeks of dancing around the reveal that Matthias is Val's real father, Lincoln and Val finally are forced to talk about it.

Nightbound

The Wrong Engagement

Nik Ryder x MC

Angst

Summary: Just one more morning. Alex just needed one more morning with the love of his life. One more morning before he married someone else.

Into the Wind-Verse

Link to full universe masterlist

A New Start

Magnus Bishop & Wind Velez

Summary: The story of Magnus getting recruited from unemployment in Ohio after being fired from his firm, to McGraw-Byrne.

Bad Liar

Magnus Bishop (MC) & Wind Velez

Summary: Magnus Bishop, just trying to do his work. Enter Wind Velez, here to remind Magnus he scared the shit out of his boyfriend, hadn't slept in three days, and needs some goddamn friends.

Come Morning Light

Magnus Bishop/Marcus Sharpe

Summary: Magnus is awoken when his boyfriend stirs in the night. He may not be the most adept at empathy or comforting people but for Marcus? He'll try.

Feeding Schedule

Wind Velez/Martin Vanderweil

Summary: Magnus is secretly a walking talking disaster. Wind knows this. Now he needs his boyfriend's help for a unique request.

The Breach

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Magnus Bishop/Marcus Sharpe

Summary: In an attempt to finally put his past to bed, Magnus returns to Westchester one last time to visit the strange forcing lurking in the woods he grew up in. But little does he know, nothing with the Power is ever that simple.

Choices Sequels We Deserved

Elementalists 3

Nightbound 2

My MCs

Blades of Light and Shadow - Asterin Nightbloom

Crimes of Passion - August Rose

Murder at Homecoming - Valentine Damian Stone

It Lives In The Woods - Valen Ebony/Aquino

It Lives Beneath - Leon Vance

It Lives Within - Castor Athantis

It Lives Within - Julian Athantis

Hero - Callum Wyland

Endless Summer - Taylor Vaanu/McKenzie

The Elementalists - Apollo Solaris

The Elementalists - Lance Hartley (OC)

Immortal Desires - Eros Blackwell

Bloodbound - Mattheo Lazarin

Laws of Attraction - Magnus Bishop

Emrys - The Cursed Heart

#playchoices #choices #pixelberry #blades of light and shadow #bolas #crimes of passion #elementalists #it lives in the woods #ilitw #it lives beneath #ilb #it lives within #ilw #nightbound #choices hero #endless summer

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secretpeaches · 10 months

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solo trip, part four

part one, part two, part three idol bang chan x gn!reader words: 3.9k warnings: none really. some angst, sweet ending summary: strangers to friends to more than friends. reader finds out their partner cheated on them while traveling alone, chan helps them forget. note: wow i really took a month to write this...should i keep going? i still cannot thank everyone enough for reading this series, love u all so much thank u for bearing with me <3 please look forward to the next series i have planned, and of course requests are open if anyone has ideas for me! thank u thank u

—

after chan had left, leaving you with a kiss to your hand, you were left alone in your hotel room wishing the moment had lasted longer. you wished you could see his face for just one more second. each detail was seared into your brain, but you replayed every second as you got ready to sleep so the memories wouldn't fade. his beautiful smile was the one thing you kept imagining. the effects of the alcohol had worn off by that point, but you still felt like your head was spinning from his smile alone.

you thought of the moment he held you when you cried into him. after all the stress and exhaustion, the memory was a bit hazy in your mind, but you couldn't forget how warm he felt, and how safe he made you feel. so many things happened at the club in such a short amount of time, it was hard to recall everything.

another day was over, and again you were in your hotel with your mind buzzing. you wanted to turn your phone off, to not be reminded of a certain other person that may bother you, but you wanted to text chan. there were so many thoughts in your head, most of which about how you just admitted to yourself that you wanted more than just friendship with him. you questioned yourself, am i crazy? we just met, is it okay to feel this way? should i tell him now? how should i tell him? should i just do it?

another day was over, meaning there would only be one full day left before you would be leaving to return home. every time your heart fluttered at the thought of holding chan’s hand, or resting your head on his shoulder, or his arm sneaking around your waist, you had to remind yourself that once you left, it would all be long distance, and you wouldn’t be able to experience any of that again for a long time. you questioned if even going for it with him was worth it.

in your bed, in the dark of the hotel room, you buried your face in your pillow. you weren’t really sad, but you wanted to cry again. you had no idea how this would work. obviously it didn’t work with your ex when the moment you were apart from them they cheated on you. chan is a man you just met, you cant give him your full trust just yet. but still, after everything that’s happened between you, you felt like you already have.

you wanted to scream. this didn’t feel fair. how could the nicest man you’ve ever met be presented in front of you at the worst possible moment? this was exactly why you never believed in fate, it was always painfully unfair, and now you were falling victim to it too.

chan felt the same way.

as he snuck back into his dorm, thankfully, it was dark enough that he could slip away into his room quietly without his nosy members asking him why he was dressed so nice at this time of night. from behind a closed door he could hear his other dorm mates yelling over each other, presumably playing some video game by jisung’s influence (a distraction he had come up with so they wouldn’t hear chan coming back). he lied in his bed, staring at the ceiling for a while. jisung’s warning to him was true. all of this was impossible, but he wanted it to work so badly.

in the short time he had known you, his feelings for you only grew the more he interacted with you and the more he spent time with you. he cared about you, whether that be as a friend or something more. it was his decision to go with you to the club, even though he knew you were leaving. he made the conscious choice of getting closer to you despite that fact. he knew that in two more days, or one day now, you’d be gone. he had never considered anything long distance before, but maybe for you he would. the thought that you might leave his life forever, or even just be out of his reach, made his insides twist into a knot.

the newly made memories of you happily dancing in front of him, tripping and falling into him, the way you felt in his arms when he held you, your flushed cheeks when he left your hotel, every moment with you, it all flew around in his head.

he reached for his phone, staring at the tiny keyboard. he could just admit all his feelings to you right now, while everything was fresh in his mind. he typed it out multiple times but ultimately deleted it all, settling for something much simpler.

chan: im home now, i hope youre asleep!

chan: i had such a good time tonight <3

by that point, you were already asleep. you had fallen asleep with your phone in your hand, your confession to chan left unfinished in the notes of your phone.

chan stayed up late, unable to sleep as it usually was for him. he sat at his desk in his room, working endlessly at his laptop. even though he was going to be busy the entirety of the next day, he was still staying up late, pouring out his heart and frustrations into his music. eventually, he fell asleep in his chair, thinking of how he would see you the next day and how he was going to tell you how he felt. it had to be tomorrow.

—

in the morning, you were awoken by the buzzing of your phone in your hand. for a moment you thought it may be a phone call, but it was just a mass of texts from your friends. you noticed some from the previous night asking where you had gone, and the few from chan that you were excited to open, but the most recent texts from one of your friends stood out more than any of the others. as you read the texts, you thought you might still be dreaming, as none of the words really made sense.

☆: what did your guy say his name was?

☆: chan right?

☆: i thought he seemed familiar in that selfie but i didnt say anything…and last night too

☆: isnt this him?

☆: https://youtu.be/4B0dR0aYMt8

☆: thats him right?

☆: did he tell you?

you opened the link hesitantly. it was a video of a livestream, posted to a channel called “stray kids”. you felt like all your insides dropped out of your body as you watched in a mix of shock and awe. it was chan, sat in front of a camera, talking happily to his live audience. the video was old, from a few months ago. not even 12 hours ago, this same person was in your hotel room, and now you were watching him on your phone with thousands of people adoring him in the comments. you scrolled through their channel, clicking on various videos to prove this was real. that single video led you to a rabbit hole of finding content with chan in it, from his group’s music, to their live performances, to their variety show appearances. you tried to make sense of it all, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t. the person you had finally admitted to having feelings for…was him? chan was a celebrity, and a very well known one at that.

but to you, he was just chan.

this couldn't be happening. no way.

no wonder he had been wearing a mask that whole time. if one of their fans had seen you out with him, he would’ve gotten in trouble. and he had gone all the way to a nightclub with you? he put his job on the line…to hang out with you? he even walked with you to your hotel, you were even holding his hand. you never would've guessed he was famous from how kind he was, even from your first encounter when he saw you under the bridge. since when do famous people help random strangers crying alone in public?

"oh my god." you exclaimed out loud. the realization of the severity of this situation was hitting you harder than realizing you had feelings for someone you had only known for 2 days.

by this point you were fully sitting up, crouched over your phone with your legs crossed.

you: yes thats him

you: no he didnt tell me

your friend responded immediately

☆: this is crazy…hes like

☆: super famous

☆: are you okay?

☆: i won’t tell anyone okay? you seem to really like him and i want this to work for you

☆: after everything that happened, yk?

you read the messages over and over again. you were still stunned that this was real.

you wanted this to work too. anybody else probably would’ve been over the moon that a korean celebrity was talking to them in private, but you felt strange. why didn’t he tell you this before? the answer was pretty obvious, but you still wanted to hear it from him. you had told him everything about your life on that first night you met, but the more you thought about it, you really didn’t know that much about him, even after watching all that content with him in it. when you first met, he had kept quiet about his own life as you talked about yours. you told yourself you didn’t want to pry, but now you had to know. you didn’t want to learn about him through the internet. you really liked him, so maybe it was time you learned more about each other for real. you felt the motivation stirring inside of you, it wasn’t that serious, but you had to confront him now.

without reading chan's texts, you called him. the phone rang a couple times but went to voicemail. you tried one more time, biting your lip as the line rang. you remember him saying he was going to be busy all day, but a phone call or two wouldn’t get him in trouble, right?

chan was in the middle of practicing new choreography with his members when his phone buzzed from the couch where it had been thrown. he ignored the buzzing the first time, but when it started to ring a second time, he happened to be at a pause and was able to check who was calling. seeing that it was you, he smiled to himself. he opened your text conversation to tell you that he would call you later, but his smile quickly faded seeing your message that immediately followed the missed call.

you: can we talk?

chan: i cant call rn, is everything okay?

you: i mean in person

you: when can i see you?

chan found your tone strange, and the way you avoided his question was even more strange. your texts seemed urgent, but he couldn’t tell if you were upset or not. something was definitely going on, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. he wished he could call you, but he couldn’t. obviously not in front of his entire group. he couldn’t really slip into the hallway to call you either, as company staff would be within earshot. his eyebrows furrowed as he typed his response.

chan: tonight. is that okay?

chan: ill be done around 10pm

you: thats fine

you: lets meet up at the bridge, where we met before

you: ill see you then

chan started typing to ask again if you were okay, but the sound of everyone getting back up forced him to put his phone away. when he stood, he felt a nudge to his arm. he turned to make eye contact with jisung, who had seen chan typing in deep concentration. his younger member didn’t need to say anything, chan knew by the look in his eyes that he was asking what was going on. jisung was the only one out of his 7 group mates that knew about you, so of course he would know when he was texting you as well.

chan waved a hand to dismiss him with a quiet “it’s fine”, moving to find his position for the next choreography. jisung once again didn’t believe him but what could he say at that moment.

deep inside his chest, chan felt a weight sinking through him. he didn’t know what to expect, but all he could do was feel immense dread for fear of something he couldn’t predict.

—

your entire friend group was still quite hungover from the previous night, so there was nothing planned for you to do. even you still felt the remnants of a headache lingering above your eyebrows. it was your final full day in korea, and you wished chan wasn’t busy so you could see him sooner.

as the hours progressed, both you and chan went through the day with anxiety boiling at the pits of your stomach. chan was able to distract himself with his busy schedule of practicing choreography, making music, or meetings with his company. unlike him, your day wasn’t so busy. you tried to keep yourself occupied by going out on your own, looking for clothing shops or cafes to mull around in, but the time couldn’t pass any faster. you ended up spending most of your afternoon packing to leave the next day.

despite everything, you were on each others mind.

one question kept tapping at the back of your brain. what if this ruins everything? the unknown of telling chan that you knew about his idol status was like a weight pressing down on your entire body that only grew as it got closer to your meetup time. but you couldn’t run away, you had to face it head on.

when the sun had set, and it was nearly 10pm, you both began your walk to the bridge by the urban stream. you tried to remember the route you had taken that night when you ran out in a hurry. you weren’t really paying attention to where you were going back then, so finding the way now was a complete guess. it felt a little strange to walk back willingly, taking better note of the path and your surroundings so maybe you could come back here someday. When the bench you and chan had sat and talked for hours a few nights ago appeared in front of you, you couldn’t describe the exact emotion that washed over you. it didn’t really hit you that you were leaving tomorrow until you were standing in the same spot as before. the same spot that started all of this. you held the railing lightly as you peered down into the shallow water. the feeling was somewhere in between happy and sad that pulled deeply on your heart. was it melancholy?

chan felt it too.

when he was finally free from his schedule, he quickly slipped away as everyone was planning dinner, giving the excuse that he was going to go work in his studio, and that he wasn’t hungry. he knew that was going to raise some suspicion from everyone but there was no other way. he skipped going back to his dorm to change clothes and rushed straight to you. it wasn’t too hard to find that spot. that night he was out for a walk and only took a different route than he usually would. he could still picture everything perfectly in his mind, and where you were standing that day. seeing you come into his view, he noticed you were in the same spot and a small tear formed in his eye at the reminder that this was your last night together. this was it.

“y/n!” chan called out to you, and you turned your head at your own name.

you turned to face him and he stopped right in front of you. you looked right up into his eyes, glaring through them. they were still soft and beautiful, the city lights around you twinkling in them. you felt like you were reliving a memory instead of creating a new one. you had never felt such strong deja vu in your entire life.

“y/n what’s going on? i was so worried-”

“why didn’t you tell me?” you blurted, cutting him off.

“what? what do you mean?”

you paused, carefully choosing your next sentence. still, you couldn’t put much thought into your words for fear that you would overthink everything.

“why didn’t you tell me, bang chan?”

chan’s eyes widened upon hearing his full name, his stage name. suddenly he realized exactly what you meant, and why you brought him here. he only told you his first name. you knowing his full name meant you figured out who he was. your eyes pleaded with his. he could tell you weren’t angry with him, but the serious look on your face as your gaze pierced through him was like a sharp slap to the face. he felt his whole world crumble, and everything he had been building up for the past two days shattering in front of him.

“you figured it out.” he turned away from you, exhaling a deep sigh as he leaned on the railing next to you, staring somewhere in the distance.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” your voice was firm.

he didn’t know how to respond, how to explain himself. he didn’t want to. this is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. he just wanted things between you to be…simple.

“chan, i told you everything about me. we talked for hours that night and i told you my entire life story.”

chan’s lack of a response prompted you to keep going. you weren’t angry, but the more you rambled, the more your voice raised, and the more frantic your words became.

“you saw me crying, you saw me drunk…you risked your job…your reputation to hang out with me… at a nightclub? and you didn’t tell me? if i had known, i wouldn’t have even suggested any of that. chan, what if you got in trouble-”

“i was scared of losing you!” chan blurted, a sudden rush of emotions taking control of him. he was now facing you again.

“...what?” you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

there was a long moment of silence between you as chan searched for the words.

“i was scared of losing you.” he repeated, eyes down at his shoes. “i just…wanted something normal for once. everything in my life is so…crazy and hectic. it’s hard to talk to people because everyone just sees me as bang chan from stray kids now. not as just…chan. but with you, i-”

he lifted his head, making eye contact with you. you felt your heart beating faster in your chest. you had no idea where this conversation was going.

“with you, i finally feel like i have something real. i didn’t tell you because i didn’t want anything to change.”

“chan, i-”

“i’m sorry for not telling you, y/n. if i hurt you, i… i’m so sorry. i understand if you can’t forgive me.” he now sounded more frantic than you. "what we have is really important to me."

“chan, it’s okay, i’m not hurt,” your gaze softened. hearing him on the verge of falling apart, you felt terrible for being even remotely upset at him. you grabbed his hand with both of yours. “i promise, nothing will change, okay? all i want is honesty. i want to know the real chan. and even without knowing you’re an idol, these past few days, i still felt like i was with the real you. what we have… it is real.”

you finally smiled at him to reassure him that you weren’t angry.

“you’re not going to lose me, chan. never in a million years”

for you, somehow you felt like you were admitting something to him, beating around the bush of actually just telling him you liked him. a weird tension was suddenly building up between you as you shared another silent moment just staring at each other as you held his hands in yours. it was almost as if your hearts were talking, confessing everything to each other. you didn’t need to hear it from him to feel like maybe he felt the same way.

without saying a word, chan suddenly pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close to him. seeing you smile again, he couldn’t control himself, his heart making decisions for him. he couldn’t describe how relieved he was that you weren’t actually upset with him. he buried his face in your shoulder, and you were now the one to comfort him, stroking the back of his hair. you could tell he needed this. and so did you. this moment was a mirror of the previous night, but it somehow felt different. you felt closer, more connected.

there was nothing holding him back anymore.

something about the way you said that single sentence made chan want to melt. now was the time, all of his emotions were about to explode out of him, it was almost painful to not tell you that final truth.

“thank you, y/n. thank you.” chan spoke quietly into your shoulder.

when he reluctantly pulled back from you, you could see his eyes wet with tears and you reached up to wipe them.

“oh, chan… don’t cry, i’ll cry!”

he laughed sadly, pulling you back into his arms so you wouldn’t see him cry. “why do you have to leave… can’t you just stay?”

“i can’t… i want to, but i can’t.”

chan took a deep breath before speaking his next question.

“then can you at least say you’ll be mine?”

you stopped breathing for a moment. you wanted to pull away to look at him but he was holding you in place. he couldn’t bear to look at you for fear of a negative response.

“what?”

“y/n,” he started. “i know we just met, and i know you leave tomorrow. but i really like you. i thought we could just be friends, but the feelings i have for you… it’s more than that. i don’t care what my company says, or what anyone says. what we have… i can’t let that go. i’ll make it work, no matter what it takes.”

you were completely speechless. all you could do was hold him tighter. your heart was beating hard enough that chan could probably feel it where your body was pressed to his.

there was a long silence, then finally you were able to step back enough to look up into chan’s eyes. in that moment, it was just you and him. for the first time that night, you really noticed he wasn’t wearing his mask, proving he once again risked everything for you. you also noticed how close your faces were, and how you could definitely kiss him right now. you didn’t know it, but he was thinking that too.

you lifted a hand to rest on his cheek, and he leaned into your touch.

“yes, chan, i’m yours.”

his lips turned upward into a beautiful smile, and you couldn’t help but smile too.

“but before i leave, i want to learn more about you. and not from the internet, from you.”

“of course,” he reached for your hand, pulling you towards the nearest bench, and the feeling of deja vu returned. “we have all night, yeah?”

#aahhh i hope this is okay everytime im scared about my endings lol #bang chan x reader #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfics #stray kids au #stray kids #bang chan

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