#I’ve gotten FOUR whole comments in one night!

[rangersoup]

Oh my gosh. I forgot how much serotonin I get from seeing Ao3 comment notifications! They were right, writing fan fiction IS better than doing drugs!

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.5 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Drinking, Swearing, Fighting, morning after regrets, flashbacks(2x) , mentions of cheating, previous relationship trauma, college flashback, stupid ex boyfriend, bothering yoongi (cause he deserves to be bothered), vic laughs in your face, yeah more confusing feelings ❥word-count: 8.8k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Four Years Ago - Just before Melanie and Namjoon met. 

“Holy shit.” You set down your drink on the table. Your eyes landing on Jungkook, who just happened to enter the same bar you and your friends decided to have a night out at. 

Who you haven’t seen in a year.

It was just a casual outing and you had a rough shift so a few drinks were going to hit the spot for you right now. You and Melanie invited Ash to join you to hang out. She was a new friend to the both of you and you really wanted to get to know her better. No better way than to have a few drinks and sit and talk.

Ash, glanced in the direction you were looking. “What is it?” 

You shake your head and take another sip of your drink, tracking Jungkook across the bar as he seemed to greet some guys he seemed to know. 

“Oh it’s nothing. Just some guy I knew in college.” You try to brush it off, tracing the rim of your drink. The past frustrations are bubbling up.

“Which one?” Melanie leaned close, as you pointing him out subtly trying not to pull focus to your little group. “Oh wow. He’s cute, did you guys date or something?” 

You stifle a laugh, “No, I fucking hate that guy.” 

“What happened?” Ash tilted her head glancing over to Jungkook. Her curiosity peaked. 

“Oh it’s a long story.” You wave your hand trying to breeze past to another subject. 

“Oh come on spill.” Melanie bumped her shoulder into yours, encouraging you to open up. You and Melanie had only known each other a few months and although you had gotten close pretty quickly. This Jungkook thing was old news and not something you even had to worry about anymore.

“He’s just an ass. We got into a huge fight and I said some things, he said some things and we can’t stand each other. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.” You try to keep the details as vague as possible.

“Damn that sucks.” Melanie nodded, “It wasn’t’ like a secret love affair or something scandalous like that?” She teased and your eyes shot open in shock.

“Yeah if I ever sleep with that guy, someone needs to get me a brain scan because something is seriously wrong with me.” You laughed giving a nonchalant wave of your hand, as if brushing off the question.

Ash pursed her lips, “I mean… He’s cute so maybe you would be totally sane.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

“Awe crap.” Jungkook ran a hand over his face as he sat up in his bed. The whole night comes back in a quick flash. 

It was real though… the two of you had slept together… again.

You sat in a frustrated but dumbfounded daze next to him. Silent, staring at the ground. Recounting every single step from the night before. How Jungkook found you buried in the sea of people. Helped you get to the bathroom, one second you were fighting and then the next… 

You both stayed silent like this for just a moment before you took the pillow behind you swinging it around to hit Jungkook. “You idiot.” 

Jungkook blocked himself from getting hit in just enough time. “What?” 

You swung the pillow again, hitting his arms with a thud. “Stupid dumb idiot.” You really weren’t sure if you were saying this to him or to yourself now. Felt good to take the frustration out on him with the pillow. 

“You think I planned this!” Jungkook spat back with you in annoyance, “I’m clearly just as shocked as you are.” You swung the pillow one more time to hit him but this time Jungkook grabs it. “Stop!” 

You get up from the bed with an exaggerated groan, mumbling some things under your breath. You walked and grabbed your pants pulling them back up your legs with some frustration and force. “Shut up. Make me. What the hell was that?” 

As you quickly dressed, your phone slipped out of your pocket and clattered to the floor. You snatched it up, wincing as the screen lit up: almost 9 AM. You didn’t have any pressing plans today, but staying here was the last thing you wanted.

Jungkook got up from his bed. Jungkook, still standing, watched you with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, and what about you? Kiss me, Jungkook.” He pitched his voice in a high, mocking imitation of you.

You shot him an incredulous look, pointing at him angrily. “I do not sound like that.” You storm past him, shoving him, grabbing your bra. “What about you? Let’s get out of here and I prefer a bed.” You pitched your voice as well to mock him back. 

“Well I do.” He nods his head to the side but then shakes his head, “Not the point. You wanted it just as bad as I did.” 

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Fine, whatever. Maybe I did. But I swear you placed some demonic spell on me.”

“I should be the one checking myself for hex’s if anything!”  Jungkook says, checking out his arms and chest dramatically. 

You stormed out of the room, your eyes now adjusting to the daylight as you glanced at his apartment. It looked completely different now. His place was so nice and clean. Well put together and he actually had things well decorated. How annoying. Jungkook threw on a pair of sweatpants and followed you down the hallway, his tone turning serious.

You bent down to put on your shoes, frustration bubbling up as you fumbled with the laces. “I don’t do hookups. I’m too busy. What a load of crap!”

Jungkook leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. “Hey, that’s true! Between the trial I’ve got coming up and all the other crap in my life, I’m genuinely surprised.”

You narrowed your eyes, not slowing down as you tried to shove your other shoe onto your foot. “Yeah, like I’m supposed to believe that.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Says the one who swore after last time this would never happen again.” He looked at you with a smirk, his gaze unwavering. “I remember that pretty clearly. You always keep your word, so what happened?”

You froze mid-motion, turning to face him with a frustrated, exasperated sigh. “I had a lot to drink, my judgement was skewed. Okay?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, his voice teasing but with an edge of something more. “So did I. Still doesn’t explain why we’re here, does it?”

You paused, a bitter laugh escaping you as you patted your pockets, checking for your keys. “I don’t even know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at how big of an idiot I am, or cry about ending up in bed with you again.”

You yanked the front door open, spinning on your heel just before it slammed shut, giving him a sarcastic middle finger over your shoulder as you walked away.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, calling after you. “Fuck off!”

The door slammed shut behind you, and you darted down the hallway, the elevator feeling like the only escape. You needed to get out of there, fast. You needed to breathe. To feel something that wasn’t this—whatever this was.

The moment you stepped into the elevator, your mind flooded with flashes from the night before. The elevator doors shut, but in your mind, it felt like you were still there with him, every second replaying itself in vivid detail. You remembered the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, the way your body betrayed you. How you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were fighting and then you were in it.

What the hell was that? You didn’t have an answer, only questions swirling in your head.

And why… did it feel so good?

You couldn’t shake the image of his face, between your legs, from your mind for the rest of the day. It lingered with you, haunting every moment. You forced yourself into a cold shower just so you could force yourself to not think about anything other than keeping yourself warm. You tried to stay busy, distracting yourself from the truth that kept creeping back. That whatever skills Jungkook had with his tongue had left its mark on you, and you wouldn’t easily forget it.

You weren’t the only one haunted. 

As good as Jungkook was at pushing things from his mind, this was not something he could easily do this time. He couldn’t get the moments in the bathroom out of his mind, how just for one moment you both just surrendered and you actually laughed at him. Felt like you could be friends almost. You may have looked like friends to anyone else… very complicated friends. 

It’s not like there wasn’t a time when you two couldn’t have been friends. 

In fact there was a time when you were friends, before it all went south. 

Jungkook had been thinking about that time more often lately, about how you two bridged the gap before. Which was really funny to think about now, considering this week. That there ever was a time where you two really got along, and got along well. 

Funny enough it was a pretty similar instance to every time you encountered each other this last week.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five years ago

You decided a break was long overdue. Between the mountain of homework and David, your ex, relentless texting you, your mind felt like it was on the verge of imploding. A quick walk to the convenience store on the edge of campus seemed like the perfect way to clear your head, just enough to get back to work without screaming into your pillow.

David has been spending weeks trying to get ahold of you. Trying to explain himself again and make you look like an idiot again because he’s convinced you twice to get back together with him, why not one more time? 

The store’s door jingled as you pushed it open, a wave of cool air brushing past you. The cashier barely glanced up from his phone as you headed straight for the energy drinks. Your eyes scanned the rows until you grabbed two cans—one for tonight and one for the impending hell of tomorrow.

You turned, heading to the snacks, but as soon as you rounded the corner of the aisle, you collided with someone.

“Shit—” you muttered, barely managing to keep hold of your drinks.

“Maybe look where you’re going,” came the familiar, clipped voice. Of course coming from Jungkook.

You blinked at him, your stomach twisting with instant irritation. “Oh.”

Jungkook just brushed past you. You had spent several weeks of your project meeting together to work but you had been icing him out. He had tried to smooth things over, even had a friend come and try to decipher what issue you had with him was. You really had nothing to say to your ex’s friends after what happened. Seems Jungkook has finally gotten the hint you didn’t want to be friends and just wanted to get this project over with.

You rolled your eyes, clutching the cans tighter as you moved to the shelf beside him, pretending he wasn’t there. His presence, of course, was hard to ignore, especially when he turned his head to glance at your selection.

Jungkook had become pretty fed up with your cold shoulder. He had tried being nice but your weeks of angry muttering and silence really got under his skin. When he had no idea what he had even done wrong, and with how his week had been going he didn’t really have any patience left for you. He grabbed what he liked but the both of you had ended up in the same aisle again. 

You both took a small glance at what the other had collected. 

“Really? Energy drinks and chips? Healthy.” He remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Your face twisted in some confusion at his comment,“Really? Beer and a box of instant noodles? Classy,” you shot back without missing a beat, nodding at his haul.

“Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on my diet.” He said, deadpan, before turning his attention to the shelf again.

“I just have eyes.” You grabbed a pack of granola bars and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

Jungkook had noticed your recent choice of beverage from your last few meet ups for the project. Always the same and always two. “You know, those won’t magically help you stay awake. Might want to try water—or sleep.”

“Wow. Riveting advice, Jungkook,” you said over your shoulder. “Maybe next time, write a self-help book. Call it How to Be Annoying in Five Easy Steps.”

His lip curled into a half-smirk. “And you’d call yours How to Be Petty Without Even Trying.”

“Catchy,” you shot back. “I’ll let you write the foreword.”

“Pass. I’d rather not waste my time.”

“Then stop talking to me,” you snapped, giving him a pointed glare before brushing past him.

Jungkook leaves you alone, doesn’t even entertain you anymore. That was fine though, you needed to get back to your homework. You checkout with your stuff and get out of there pretty quickly. Pushing the door open, you start home but are immediately greeted with satan in the flesh. 

“Oh god damn it, I cannot catch a break.” A puff of air leaves your lungs, exhaustion setting in. “How did you even know where I was David?”

“Baby I know everything about you. You always come here on your study days. Which is always Thursdays. Around this time.” He says it so matter of fact, because he does know you too well. It made your skin crawl. 

“I’m not your baby.” You try to walk past him but he steps in front of you. “Stop texting,  stop calling, and don’t ever show up somewhere I frequent again. It’s creepy.”

“Please just hear me out.” He starts but you put a hand up to him and push him away.

“No David, because you will make the same promises that you have made me over and over again. Once again making me look stupid. You give me the same stupid speech every time that I ‘am the one’, and it was a ‘mistake’, and that it was ‘just a one time thing’, and that ‘I’m so special to you’, blah blah blah.” You rub the side of your head with your free hand that doesn’t have your bag. 

“I was wrong, every single time I was wrong. I’m here because I know you, I know that in that bag you have two energy drinks because you are going to drink one tonight and you are going to keep one for another day!” He keeps blocking your way, you keep trying to step around him but he’s not going to let you go until he gets his whole speech out. 

“So what? You know one thing about me? Anyone who spends any amount of time around me knows that!” 

“That’s not all. I know you. I know how you look when you are frustrated about something and you scrunch up your nose.” He took a step forward but you maintain the same distance between the both of you. “I know that you say you are a fan of action movies but you much prefer something funny or thought provoking.”

“Please stop.”

“I’m not here to give you the same speech again. I want you. We will graduate and I want the life we talked about forever ago. I’m not making the same promises like before. I will do anything to prove to you I am the most serious I have ever been.” David begged, he was making that same face he made very single time. One that made you believe it but you weren’t falling for it anymore, you were just pissed off now.

Right at that moment you heard the store door close behind you. Great, just great. Now Jungkook gets to experience this embarrassing moment for you. Since he’s one of David’s closest friends, probably help him. Say something like ‘David is so awesome and amazing’. You turn to look at Jungkook, who seemed to be confused about what was transpiring in front of him. David has stopped talking at this point and is also looking over atJungkook. 

Jungkook observing the both of you, he could tell something is off. 

“Hey man.” David calls over to him, voice suddenly diffused and cheerful, and he waves a little. “Haven’t seen you around, how’s it going?”

“Uhh,” Jungkook looked at his plan of escape and seemed to abandon it but didn’t come closer to the two of you. “Good man, Just busy.” 

You were trapped. You wouldn’t be able to get out of this, but still the look you gave to Jungkook suggested that you needed help getting out of this situation. You could only hope he sees it, and sees that even if you have been treating him like crap he may be the only person to get David to back off. 

“You should come hang out, everyone misses you. ” David spoke up again, trying to fill the weighing silence between the three of you.

“I’m okay, actually.” Jungkook says, his voice is monotone and unwavering. Almost mad? He took a couple steps closer to the two of you. Jungkook had caught on to your look for help. “Everything okay here?”

He could tell you were extremely uncomfortable, and he knew if David had an idea he wasn’t going to let it go. For whatever reason, that was you right now.

“Yeah, we are just talking really quick.” David spoke in place of you, before you could get a word out. 

David placed a hand on your shoulder and you immediately recoiled away. Jungkook right at that moment got an idea. He had no idea if it would work or if you even really wanted his help. He decided it was worth a shot though. 

“You ready to go?” He spoke directly to you.

It surprised you and you stared at him for a moment with a confused look, one David was unable to see from standing behind you.

“Uhh…” Your eyebrows screw together. 

“You guys know each other?” David stepped into the space that was between you and Jungkook. 

“Not really.” You say, which was the truth. 

“We are working on something together.” Jungkook fills in the blank, almost too quickly after you. He was looking directly at David, and was standing taller now. 

“Well, can we just have a minute?” David asks. His demeanor changed in response to the change in Jungkook’s tone and stance. Defensive. 

Jealous?

“No we need to go.” Jungkook comes over to you and takes the bag out of your hand, adding it to the arm he already had his on. You almost on instinct protest him but hold yourself back. Whatever Jungkook was doing was working and you just might be able to get out of here. Hurricane David would pass.

“Y/N I just need a minute.” David looked a little flustered by the intrusion. 

“No. We are done.” You speak abruptly and move closer to Jungkook’s direction. 

“Seriously?” David looks at you, he was definitely frustrated, and that filled you with sense of relief. 

“Yeah. Seriously.” You say.

“Head home David.” Jungkook steps backwards in the direction towards campus. “I think it’s time we left as well.”

“Fine, go then.” David snorts, he takes a quick step over to Jungkook, leaning into his ear and then says something else inaudible to you. Which, after a moment, results in Jungkook pushing David harshly away from him. 

“Hey let’s go.” You grab onto Jungkook’s arm and you head towards the direction of the dorms. Quickly. David doesn’t get another word in, you and Jungkook kept the same pace and moved in quick silence. 

“What a fucking douche.” Jungkook finally says once you guys are far enough away. 

“I thought you were friends?” You ask, now confused. Wasn’t he like Jungkook’s best friend? That’s how David always described him.

“Not anymore.” He looks at you, “I hope he didn’t bug you too much.” 

“Oh, he will. He’s probably going to text me any minute.” You dread it in fact. He was annoyingly persistent in the times you guys were… off.

“How do you know him?” 

You let out a sigh. That was a loaded question indeed.

“It’s a very long and taxing story.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Maybe after a drink or five.” You shake your head, joking in your tone. 

Jungkook then ruffles around into his bag. Pulling out a can of a drink that was juice and alcohol mixed together. A mango flavor of some kind. You glance at it and then back up to Jungkook.

“I’ve got time.” 

Jungkook walked you back to your dorm. Usually you wouldn’t invite guys up but your roommate was out for the evening and you weren’t too worried about it right now. You both sat on the ground in your room. Opening up your drinks and sitting, and you begin to explain the long complicated history between you and David. How he cheated once, begged you to come back, cheated again, begged you to come back again, and then shocker… cheated again. Then made you out to be the insane one to everyone you knew. David had this uncanny way of just getting into your head and you were not letting it happen this time.

Jungkook just sat silently and listened. He didn’t try to interject or try to defend David in any way. Just let you get it all out. Which just only piqued your curiosity on their relationship even more. Were they not close like you had been told? Did something happen? 

“And so that’s how he ended up here. Seeking me out again.” You take a sip of your second drink for the night.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him.” Jungkook shook his head and took a sip of his drink. 

“And every time, he made me look just more and more like an idiot. For believing that each time he wants me and wants to be really committed. I kept believing it could happen, but every single time the rug is pulled out from under me and everyone is laughing at me for not seeing that he was going to do it again.” You sigh, you sank down onto the floor further. Feeling like it was dragging you down into it.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think he is an asshole.” Jungkook discards his can into the plastic bag that you two had used for garbage. 

“I was nervous when you came out of the store tonight. I thought you guys were still friends.” 

“No, absolutely not. He pulled some crap a couple of months ago and I hope I never see him again. Clearly he thought we were still friends.” Jungkook picked at his fingernails while talking. 

“He calls you his best friend, you know.” You look to see his reaction and Jungkook snorts. 

“That’s rich.” He tilts his head. “He’s certainly not mine. We were pretty close though.” 

“Not close enough to meet me I guess. His on and off girlfriend.” 

Jungkook paused for a second, clearly trying to carefully choose his next words. “He never mentioned you.” 

You sat up, you eyes narrowing for a second. “What?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip for a moment. “He never really mentioned he had a girlfriend. Not around his friends at least. I had no idea he ever had a serious relationship.” 

You blink one and twice for a moment, taking in his words. You’ve met some of David’s other friends, but he never mentioned you? Not even as a fling? You just laugh because it all makes more sense now. It’s a bitter laugh. 

“Great.” You rub your hands over your face, “That just makes me look even dumber when I would go around being like heres a picture of my boyfriend. Maybe I was just a dirty little secret all along.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook didn’t know how to respond. The whole thing just sucked. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you with all of this. You didn’t even know anything. You really didn’t know what he was doing. Any of it.” 

“Wait, all this freezing out and bitterness towards me for weeks had to do with David?” Jungkook scrunched his face at you. 

“Yeah, you were his best friend. As far as I knew at least. I assumed that you had to know about all the stuff he was doing to me and the cheating… I just labeled you an asshole like him.” You fidgeted in your seat a little uncomfortable, and you didn’t look up to him. “It was easier to hate you than to hear you out I guess.”

“Huh.” All the pieces were suddenly falling into place now. for Jungkook. 

“David and I were also so on and off. Makes sense why we never met–”

“And I didn’t remember you when class started.” Jungkook nodded, his jaw open in realization. “Because there was nothing to remember.” Every interaction between the two of you suddenly made so much sense now.

“Yeah so I’m sorry for all the bitterness and undeserving frustration. I really thought you knew and were playing dumb.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to hide yourself away. 

“Trust me, if I had known any of that, I probably would have kicked the crap out of him.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I swear I never knew he was seeing someone. Anytime he mentioned… anyone… he would just say oh this ‘girl I slept with’ or ‘this chick I was with’.” 

It was like a new kick in the chest hearing this new piece of information from Jungkook. David lied to everyone, it wasn’t just you. Some weird comfort in the fact that no one really knows him, not even people he hangs out with all the time. 

“I know now that was all bullshit, I hope you know.” He tries to reassure you. 

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile. “God, now I really feel like an asshole.” 

“Don’t, you didn’t know. None of us knew.” He waves you off, “Water under the bridge now.”

You sigh, “I hope so… Maybe we can start over. Now that you already know I’m kind of an asshole maybe we could actually be friends.” You sip on your drink. 

“Yeah… okay.” Jungkook nods with a small grin at the corner of his mouth. “That would really piss David off.” 

You give him a confused look, “Why would that piss him off?” 

Jungkook sits up crossing his arms, “He has a bit of a complex and I would bet if we were hanging out. His head just might explode.” 

“Oh I would pay to see that.” You laugh under your breath. “Plus being friends will probably make this project a whole lot easier.”

“Don’t speak too soon, we are starting the hardest part this week.” Jungkook groaned a little. 

“Don’t remind me,” You glanced over to you piled homework at the end of your bed, “Speaking of, I should get back to my stuff now. This was nice though, actually… talking.” 

“Yeah, it was.” Jungkook stood as well, he patted his pants checking he had everything he needed. 

You shuffled around in your bag from the convenience store and pulled out a bag of chips and handed them to Jungkook. 

“For helping me, it’s not much but it’s a start.” 

“Anytime. Text me if you need help with the project.” Jungkook accepted your offer. It was a nice first step to actually being friends. Plus your new found bond of hating the same guy also helps. 

With that Jungkook left. You got yourself up off the floor and back onto your bed. Picking up your phone to actually check what time it was but seeing you had missed a handful of texts. Not surprising at all. 

David: come back.

David: pls

David: you expect me to believe you aren’t fucking that guy?

David: hope you have fun.

David: i bet he won’t even be able to get it up for you. 

David: pls answer me.

David: can’t believe you would do this

Wow. Jungkook was right about that complex thing. Except you didn’t need him bothering you anymore. So you finally got up the courage to block his number. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

Jungkook had been back at work for a few days, but something was off. He moved through tasks like a machine—efficient, precise, but utterly lifeless. To most people, it wouldn’t seem like anything was wrong. His work was spotless, his demeanor polite, but to those who really knew him, it was clear something wasn’t right.

Jimin, for one, had definitely noticed. Jungkook was usually social, always cracking jokes or giving over-detailed play-by-plays of his workout routines. This week, though? Radio silence. It was like his body was here, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Jimin had informed Taehyung of the weird change in Jungkook’s behavior and Taehyung encouraged Jimin to put some pressure on.

Curious—and more than a little nosy—Jimin sauntered over to Jungkook’s desk, a file in hand. Jungkook was hunched over his computer, eyes glued to the screen, typing furiously.

“Hey, I need the paperwork for the Johnson case,” Jimin said, leaning against the edge of the desk.

“Uh-huh. I’ll get that right away,” Jungkook replied without looking up, his tone flat and mechanical.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. Yep, Jungkook wasn’t listening.

“Oh, and you’re in charge of picking up two-thousand cupcakes for the office party in two hours,” Jimin added casually, watching for a reaction.

“Okay,” Jungkook said, still typing.

Jimin smirked, crossing his arms. “Cool. While you’re at it, I’ll invite Y/N to the office. Maybe she can snap you out of whatever funk this is.”

The reaction was immediate. Jungkook froze, his fingers hovering above the keyboard, his foot—previously tapping incessantly—stopping mid-bounce. Slowly, he turned to Jimin, his wide-eyed expression betraying a mix of panic and guilt.

“Y/N is coming here?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Why would you do that? Wh—Why would you invite Y/N here?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the overreaction. “Relax, I was joking. She’s not coming.”

“Oh,” Jungkook muttered, turning back to his computer a little too quickly. “Right. Joking. Cool.”

Jimin didn’t let it go. He leaned in closer, scrutinizing Jungkook like he was a puzzle to solve. “Why the sudden jumpiness at the mention of Y/N? You were so calm and collected about them last week.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Jungkook said immediately, his tone defensive. “I just… thought it was weird. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Jimin wasn’t buying it. He knew Jungkook too well. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all week—more robotic than usual. Did something happen?”

“No,” Jungkook said, a little too quickly.

Jimin crossed his arms. “Lying isn’t your strong suit, Jungkook.”

“I’m not lying,” Jungkook insisted, avoiding eye contact.

Jimin smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh. Because you have been walking around here like you’ve seen a ghost or something the last few days.”

Jungkook groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. Haven’t slept super well. Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine,” Jimin said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But whatever’s eating you, you should probably deal with it before the trial tomorrow. Can’t have our golden boy flubbing his arguments because his brain’s stuck on something else.”

Jungkook glared at him but didn’t respond, turning back to his computer.

As Jimin walked away, he couldn’t help but grin. Something had definitely happened, and now he just had to figure out what.

Jungkook sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts were a tangled mess, and no amount of work could drown them out. This whole situation with you had him rattled in a way he couldn’t explain.

Normally, this would’ve been easy to brush off. It wasn’t guilt because there was nothing to feel guilty about. And it wasn’t shame either—no one knew what had happened between you two, and even if they did, he wasn’t the type to care about whispers.

So why couldn’t he shake this feeling? He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. He could only imagine a huge reason is this is really the only time he has slept with someone outside of being in a relationship with them. It was strange for sure, especially because it’s not just that it’s someone random…

It was you.

Jungkook can only assume he feels so out of sorts because of those two factors. He also has no intention of getting into a relationship with you. So you were right, although he would never admit it to you, this should never happen again. It was completely throwing Jungkook off, and he can conclude Taehyung’s stupid theory is wrong. Plus it was not helping your relationship, you two were still acting exactly the same as before… plus sex. 

“What are you even doing?” Jungkook muttered as he leaned back in his desk chair. 

His phone buzzed on the desk, the vibration breaking through the noise in his head. He glanced at the screen, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw Namjoon’s name.

Namjooooooon: Hey mel and I are planning to get everyone together Saturday. You in?

Namjooooooon: ps y/n will probably be there. Melanie misses them too much to not invite them… 

Jungkook paused thinking if it would be a good idea. You two hadn’t parted exactly well but not as explosively as other times. He could keep himself in check for sure. He just wasn’t too sure if all this time he was sending around you was withering him away or not. 

Jk: I’ll be there.

With that he placed his phone back on the table, forcing himself to dive back into his work. He had a long day and an even longer few weeks ahead of him and he needed to stay focussed. He needed to put a pin in whatever this feeling is and deal with it maybe another time. 

On the other hand, you had done a great job at not having any feelings at all.

You had managed to push everything from the weekend out of your mind—or at least, you told yourself you had. You threw yourself into work with the kind of laser focus that made your coworkers pause. It was probably the most productive you’d been in weeks. Charts updated. Paperwork completed. Patients checked. You almost didn’t feel like yourself, but that was the point, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, in your single-minded determination to stay busy, you’d also been unintentionally dodging Vic. She’d tried to grab you a few times, but somehow, you always managed to slip away with the excuse of an urgent task. You told yourself it was for the best. If anyone was going to see the guilt of the weekend written all over your face, it was her.

Still, as well as you were doing at shoving your questionable life choices into a mental box labeled “Ignore Forever”, your thoughts betrayed you sometimes. The absurdity of it all would creep in at random moments. Like now, as you absentmindedly flipped through patient charts at the nurses’ station. You couldn’t help but think about a time when the idea of even entertaining the thought of Jungkook would’ve sent you to the ER, convinced you were having a mental breakdown.

Maybe you really did need professional help.

As if on cue, Yoongi plopped down at the station, clearly in no mood for nonsense as he typed furiously at the computer. Perfect. A distraction. You slid your chair closer, the sound of the wheels catching his attention.

“Yoongi,” you whined, leaning dramatically into his personal space.

He didn’t even look at you, just sighed as though bracing for whatever chaos you were about to bring. “What can I do for you Y/N?”

“What are all the symptoms of a brain tumor?” you asked, propping your chin on your hands.

Yoongi froze for half a second, then slowly turned his head to look at you. “Why? Do you think one of the patients is exhibiting some strange behavior?” His voice was flat, but the shift in his tone betrayed his concern.

“Nope,” you said breezily. “I’m asking for me.”

One eyebrow shot up, but he still didn’t miss a beat on his keyboard. “Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a brain tumor.” He finally finished typing and swiveled his chair to face you fully. “But just to be safe, you can always page one of the neuro dude bros. That’s their thing, not mine.” 

Yoongi knew that most of the nurses, including yourself, had a major distaste for the neuro residents. The guys in particular were acting like it was a frat. It was his way of teasing.

“Ugh, I hate all the neuro residents,” you groaned, flopping back in your chair. “You, however, are conveniently here and a very qualified doctor.”

He smiled faintly, clearly unimpressed. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. “Come on, one little head CT. I’ll even write you a glowing review on RateMDs.”

“Sure,” he deadpanned, standing and ruffling your hair as he moved to leave. “Let’s just order an expensive, unnecessary scan for fun. I’m sure Dr. Kim will love that.”

You trotted after him as he headed for the elevator. “Hear me out. What if I do have a brain tumor? We could be solving a medical mystery together. Dr. Kim would forgive us in a heartbeat!”

He snorted as the elevator doors opened. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“This isn’t over!” You called as the doors closed on his smirk. Defeated, you trudged back to the nurses’ station and sank into your chair, picking up where you left off with your paperwork. You were so close to the finish line, so close to clocking out, when Vic’s voice cut through the hum of the station like a scalpel.

“Are you avoiding me?”

You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Slowly, you turned in your chair to face her. Vic was leaning casually against the half-wall of the nurses’ station, arms crossed, her expression far too knowing for your comfort.

“What? No!” you said quickly, too quickly. “I’ve just been… busy.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she pushed off the wall and grabbed the chair next to you, plopping down with an audible sigh. “You’ve been a blur all week,” she said, propping her chin on her hand. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’re ducking behind walls or conveniently getting pulled into a room. I haven’t even had a chance to properly harass you.”

“Well, you’ve got me now.” You said with a nervous laugh that sounded more like a squeak.

Vic tilted her head, studying you with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. “I do. So, why do you look like you’ve committed a crime?”

“No crime. Same old me. Nothing new.” You shake your head maybe a little too vigorously for convincing, but Vic decides its been a long day so maybe you were just being weird. 

Vic stared at you for a beat longer, clearly unconvinced. But to your relief, she shrugged it off, picking up a tablet and tapping her stylus against the screen. “Alright, fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you away or something. I desperately need you to stay up here as long ass they’ll let me have you, after all”

You exhaled slowly, grateful she wasn’t pressing further—for now.

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the nurses’ station filling the air: keyboard clicks, faint beeps from patient monitors, and the occasional chatter in the background. Except your mind was far from settled. The thing was, you couldn’t talk about this situation with Ash or Melanie. Ash had never kept a secret in her life, and Melanie? She’d tell Namjoon in a heartbeat. And once Namjoon knew, it’d be over for you.

Vic was your best bet. Sure, she’d laugh at you, but you could handle that. You’d endured worse. And keeping it bottled up was slowly driving you insane.

Finally, you rolled your chair back and turned toward her. She was immersed in her tablet, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Okay, there’s one thing,” you said hesitantly, gripping onto the edge of your seat harder than you had realized.

Vic’s head popped up, her brows arching. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, twisting your fingers together nervously. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Promise.”

She rolled her eyes, setting the tablet on her lap. “Who am I going to tell? Mr. Jones in 342? He’s not exactly a vault of secrets.”

“He’s a blabbermouth,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from her. Mr. Jones was in a coma. He wasn’t on this floor but everyone knew about him since he had been here a few years. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Okay. So, uh… it happened again.”

Vic’s brow furrowed in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “What happened again?”

“Me and…” You lowered your voice to a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “You know who.”

Vic stared at you, blinking once. Then twice. You could see the gears turning as she connected the dots. And then her jaw dropped. “You what? Say it again, because I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating.”

“Jungkook and I…” You swallowed hard. “…again.”

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. And then she erupted into laughter—loud, unabashed laughter that had several people glancing your way.

Vic tried to stifle her laughter, but it bubbled out anyway, her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry, but this is gold. What happened to ‘it didn’t fix anything, and you still hate him’? Is he just that good?” she teased, her grin positively wicked.

“Vic!” you whined, swatting at her arm, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment.

“Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands in surrender, though the smirk on her face didn’t budge. “But seriously, what are you going to do now?”

You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, slumping back into your chair like the weight of the world was pressing down on you. “Avoid him. Forever, if I can manage it.”

Vic tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Yeah, because that worked so well the first time.” She shook her head, laughing softly as she turned back to her tablet. “You’re a mess. But I love you for it.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “I am not a mess. I’d like to think I’m actually very well composed.”

Vic snorted, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “Right, right. Say that again when you’re not—”

“Victoria.” You interrupted sharply, cutting her off with a pointed look.

“Damn, alright. No need to use my full name like I’m in trouble. Anyway... how did it happen?” Her teasing tone softened slightly as she leaned forward, genuinely curious now. “Walk me through it. Start to... unfortunate finish.”

You groaned again, rubbing your temples. “Do we have to?”

“Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing that’s happened all week.” She said, propping her chin on her hand as if settling in for storytime.

With another sigh, you gave in, recounting the night in as much detail as you could bear—the tizzy outside, then the bathroom and then how you two made it to the unthinkable end. Your shift had ended in the time it took you to explain everything and Vic had followed you to the locker room while you got your stuff. 

Unthinkable maybe a few months ago. 

“I’m jealous. I wish I had something this entertaining happening in my life. The most interesting gossip I have is about Dr. Kim’s surgery this morning.” She leaned against a locker next to you as you had gotten your stuff. 

“Be glad because it’s a pain in reality.” You sigh, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Now I need to go home and wash this extremely long day off of me.” 

“Well don’t stumble into Jungkook's bed on your way there.” 

Just before you leave the locker room, You turn back to her. “I hate you.” 

“Love you too baby. Get home safe.” She waves for you to get out of here. Escape while you still could. 

You exhaled deeply as you exited the locker room, the weight of the day pulling at your shoulders. Every muscle in your body ached, and the thought of a hot shower and your bed felt like a distant dream. As you reached the elevator, you spotted Ji-eun shuffling slowly down the hallway, her IV bag trailing behind her like a stubborn shadow.

“Goodnight, Ji-eun,” you called out, giving her a small wave as you pressed the elevator button.

“Leaving so early?” she teased, her voice light but tired as she made her way over to you. You could tell from her slower steps and the way she leaned slightly to one side that today hadn’t been a good day for her.

“Short shift today,” you replied with a warm smile, masking your concern. “You should be off that leg if it’s bothering you.”

“Never,” she quipped, standing up straighter and puffing out her chest in defiance. “Can’t you see? I’ve got all the energy in the world!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “All right. Come on, let me walk you back to your room.”

Ji-eun beamed, looping her arm through yours as if you’d just made her day. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in check.” You teased, giving her a gentle nudge as the two of you started down the hallway.

“So,” She began, her tone shifting to one of playful curiosity. “You haven’t updated me on your annoying boy this week. Still giving you trouble?”

You groaned inwardly but couldn’t help smiling at her persistence. “Just a little, but nothing I can’t handle,” you said lightly, hoping to steer the conversation away.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Ji-eun said, narrowing her eyes at you. “What happened this time?”

You hesitated but gave in under her expectant gaze. “I ran into him again. It... wasn’t great. We fought again.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching your arm like you’d just revealed a scandal. “How thrilling! And here I was thinking my life was dramatic with all these needles and IV bags.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No more run-ins this week, though, so that’s a win.”

Ji-eun gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Progress. Honestly, I wish my boys would talk about things like this. All they ever discuss these days is what’s happening at work.”

“Either of them coming by tonight?”

Ji-eun shakes her head, “No they both are so busy. My youngest especially these days. My husband will be here after too long though.”

“Good, and trust me, you’re not missing much. I would accept work gossip over boy drama any day.” You said, though your smile wavered slightly as the truth of your own words settled over you.

When you reached her room, you helped her ease into bed, adjusting her blankets and making sure she was comfortable. You still hadn’t gotten the chance to meet any of her family yet but her hospital room had been filling up more and more with things from home and things to keep her entertained. It was nice to see what she elected to have around her here. 

“You’re a saint,” Ji-eun murmured, her voice softer now, the day’s fatigue catching up to her.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You need to take it easier since your treatments are going to just make everyday tasks even harder.”

“I’ll try. Goodnight, Y/N.” She points for you to leave dramatically and you comply.

“Goodnight,” Leaving with the weight of your shoulder now really barring down on you now. 

You got onto the elevator and heading down to the garage. Your phone buzzing in your pocket. 

MEL:  ME YOU ASH. SATURDAY NIGHT. IN OR OUT.

You laugh, thank god Melanie was back in town. You really needed a good night in with her and Ash so this text couldn’t come at a better time. 

:IM IN

MEL: AMAZING

MEL: small detail I may have let out 

MEL: It will also include the boys too..

MEL: BUT YOU ALREADY AGREED SO YOU CANT BACK OUT NOW

Which you knew meant Jungkook. Great. 

:that’s fine It'll be fun no matter what

You could very well keep it together. Just stay one arm attached to Melanie and nothing could go wrong. You missed her dearly and of course Namjoon. Although he probably didn’t miss the sleepovers you, Ash and Melanie would have where he ended up getting kicked out of his own bed. 

Which very well may happen again this weekend. 

You continued about your week normally and so did Jungkook. Jungkook’s week had been consumed by the trial, which included long days in court, late nights reviewing documents, and the constant hum of pressure to perform. Yet, despite the chaos, things were looking up. His team was solid, their arguments tight, and with the trial on recess until Monday, Jungkook felt unusually optimistic. Optimistic enough, in fact, to accept Taehyung’s invite for a drink—a rarity for him during trial season.

Both Jungkook and Taehyung tried to rope Namjoon into coming out as well, and Namjoon was almost convinced. Then about forty five minutes ago he was texting something about having to prepare the house for the invasion, cryptically. They both were completely unsure what that was supposed to mean. 

Taehyung was already waiting in a booth when Jungkook arrived, beer in hand and a mischievous grin ready to pounce. As Jungkook slid into the seat across from him, Taehyung gave an exaggerated round of applause. “Mr. Responsible Lawyer Boy, gracing me with his presence. This is truly an honor.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile as he set his whiskey down on the table. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve still got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me tomorrow.”

“Of course you do,” Taehyung said, raising his beer. “But look at you now—drink in hand, no case files in sight. Dare I say, you’re almost acting human.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Jungkook replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’ve still got a trial to win. But things are going well enough that I figured I could afford one night off. Or at least an hour.”

“Rare footage of Jungkook actually relaxing,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone and pretending to film him. “Better capture this before you start muttering about depositions and cross-examinations again.”

Jungkook smirked, setting his glass down. “I’d be careful if I were you. That phone footage might mysteriously disappear.”

Taehyung chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Alright, mystery man. So, what’s got you in such a good mood? Jimin’s been saying you’ve been acting... off this week.”

Jungkook sighed, he figured he would hear something about earlier this week. Jimin and Taehyung were already in Jungkook's business enough so any change in behavior does not escape them, “Of course he has. Between the wedding and this trial, I’ve had a lot on my plate. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “You’ve barely had any time for me. Do you know how neglected I feel? My best friend, abandoning me in my time of need?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes again. “Poor you. You were one of the groomsmen if you remember. I saw you the entire time.”

“Poor me indeed! You were so busy trying to one up Y/N the whole time.” Taehyung exclaimed, throwing an arm over his eyes in mock despair. “I’ve had to survive on scraps of attention while you’ve been off doing... whatever it is you’ve been doing.”

“Work,” Jungkook said pointedly. “Once this trial is over, I’ll have plenty of time to make it up to you. My mind’s just been... all over the place lately.”

“Something bothering you?” Taehyung asked, leaning in a little too close for comfort. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

Jungkook pushed him back with a laugh. “No. Nothing in particular.”

“Hmm.” Taehyung took a long sip of his beer, clearly not convinced. Jungkook could sense now Taehyung was dancing around something. He had something he wanted to ask. “Jimin said you’ve been quieter than usual. That’s weird, even for you, especially this close to a trial. Thought there might be something on your mind.”

“If this trial goes well, it’s a huge opportunity for me. Potential promotion. That’s all.” Jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. Still unsure where Taehyung is taking this.

Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering this. “Makes sense. But, you know, I thought I might’ve had an idea why you’ve been acting so strange...”

“Tae,” Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

Taehyung grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything.” He sat up straight, switching gears with a dramatic clap of his hands. “I do know how you can make it up to me for all the lost hang-out time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook said, skeptical. “What’s that?”

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter

Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop @rinkud @deepikhaprakash @chuuritoz @jkslvsnella @eisthv @bangatanily @smwhrinthehaze @jjkologys @nono13bnd @vantelover1306 @jalexad @sadgirlroo @chimmisbae @smoljjks @miniesjams32 @daskewl @kookienooki

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

a/n: Maybe not the most exciting chapter but I have been very excited to show that college flashback. Although not the most important piece of their history - it is important none the less... because they were friends once?? hmmmmmm.

[sordidmusings]

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops (link keeps expiring QnQ)

A/N: Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p

Word Count: ~4 k

Warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

amab!Version

Next ->

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully.  You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to pamper yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana.  You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face.  You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied.  At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your perfume. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation.  Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful giggles burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling laughter, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your pretty eyes and pretty smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of orchid in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and amber at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine. 

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You bopped his forehead with a finger in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is so pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing  yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh in a modest slip. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you giggled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how your body felt under his hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

Next->

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 10 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: Thank you @janaispunk for always beta reading for me. I love you!

Words: 3956

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry September 4th, 1994 Dear Javi,

So it’s been a month since you left. I’m trying not to be hurt by the lack of communication. Dad said you’re alive. The reports out of Colombia sound like you’re doing well even. I know you called your dad. He mentioned it at Ale’s riding lesson. 

School is kicking my ass. Passing the GED and actually going to class is a huge fucking difference. For the most part, I’ve managed the social situations fine. Classes are small, I can sit in the back. People don’t notice the old lady in the back. I’m pretty sure I’m only retaining a quarter of what I need to. I’m on too high of alert. I knew it would be hard, but it feels like my anxiety has gotten worse again. I feel like I’m moving backward. 

Standing outside the Embassy, Javier lit a cigarette. The habit had returned in full as he fought to manage the stress of the day and ghosts of the night. He’d managed to keep his bed empty and his ashtray full. It felt like the better option of the two. 

He still hadn’t called home. His voicemail still held last week’s message from Alejandra. He fought with himself every night. The push and the pull to talk to Emily, but every night ended the same, drowning in smoke and whiskey. He wasn’t clean enough to have her or the kids. It was better this way. 

He felt useless down here. What good was the DEA if they weren’t going to actually do any enforcing. He and the whole agency were just expensive window dressing here to make it look like everything was above board, to get the DEA stamp of approval on this surrender deal. Javier hated it all.  

“Can I get one of those?” A woman appeared next to him, her dirty blond curls threaded with the soft grays and white of aging. Javier offered one up in a silence. “I quit four months ago.” She smiled before bringing it to her lips.

Javier cocked his head to the side, still assessing her motives. He hadn’t seen her around before. She wanted something, Javier just couldn’t decide what. He lit the cigarette for her as they both took a drag, sizing one another up as they did. 

He briefly wondered if her hair style was what Emily had in mind when she mentioned cutting it shorter. He still preferred the idea of her long curls. His chest tightened. Not that he had any right to a say in that. 

The woman squared up to him. “Carolina Alvarez, El Tiempo.” She held out her hand.

Just what he needed, the press. He let her hand hang in the air just long enough to make her feel uneasy before taking it with an admittedly poor handshake. As he suspected, it didn’t take long for her to launch into whatever introduction she had planned, pulling up his history with Los Pepes and the current politics happening with Cali’s plea deal. 

It was a power play. Javier refused to let her win. “You can call the press office if you want a comment, Miss Alvarez.”

“Carolina, please,” she said.

In another life, Javier wouldn’t give her the time of day. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with the press last time. That had been above his pay grade. He tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, stomping it out with his foot. Of course, he didn’t have to deal with her now. That was what the press office was for. “Have a nice day.” He turned, started to walk away. 

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident?” she asked. His steps slowed down. He turned back around. “Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.” She stepped toward him. “An empty chlorine gas canister was found nearby.”

Javier kept his face straight. His shoulders tensed. He’d seen the initial report, but hadn’t thought too much about it. 

Caroline continued, taking his silence for permission. “There’s a rumor its manufacturer is linked to a front company operated by the Cali Cartel.”

“It’s like you said, it was an accident,” Javier said, expression etched in stone, not giving anything away. 

Carolina let out a humorless chuckle. “By the end of the day it will be. No matter what the truth is.” She met his eye, giving it a second for emphasis before lapsing into Spanish. “Thank you for the cigarette.” 

She walked away, leaving Javier in the same place, same expression on his face. He fought against his surging emotions. He wasn’t going to let some journalist use him to do her research. Even so, it nagged on him throughout the day. He found himself taking extra smoke breaks.  

When he found himself watching the evening news, the investigator calling it an accident, caused by a natural gas leak, Javier felt anger surge through him. How many families had to be torn apart to protect these men? Innocent children had died. Mothers had children to bury. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t justice. 

Pictures flashed across the screen, the children killed by the exposure. He’d seen children die before. He’d watched a man he respected shoot a teenager in the head as a warning. He’d held a gun to a kid. Those incidents had messed with his head enough, but these kids were in their homes, tucked into their beds. They were supposed to be safe. How many times had Javier watched as Emily ushered her children to bed, kissed their heads, and trusted that they'd be safe in their bed. That they would wake up. 

Javier was never good at guessing the ages of kids, but each face that flashes across the screen seems to remind him of them. Miguelito. Alejandra. Mateo. Children he’d grown to know, to love even…

This wasn’t right. Cali didn’t get to get away with it. Not this time. He shut the TV off, walking over to Chris Feistl’s desk. He leaned against the wall. “You got a partner, right?”

Chris looked up at him, confused and a little shocked. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

Maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he could still bring justice. 

“Good, you’re going to Cali.” He walked away before Feistl could respond. 

This time would be different.

Journal Entry September 18th, 1994 Dear Javi,

It hurts not to hear from you. Dad said all reports from Colombia have been good. I’m sure you’re getting restless. 

I had a panic attack in class this week. I had to leave ten minutes into the class. I hadn’t had one since Escobar was killed. That’s the longest I’d been without one since I came home. I was starting to think maybe I’d never have one again. 

I feel… disappointed. 

Javier met Carolina at a cafe. She gave him information about Cali's money launderer, Franklin Jurado. She pushed him in a way he needed just as she had in their first meeting. It seemed weird that perhaps his moral compass would come in the form of a nosy journalist. 

“Are you going to take these men on or what?” she asked.

Javier let out a quick breath, formulating his answer very carefully. “I’m going to do my job.”

“And your bosses?” Her gaze was piercing, like she was trying to see his soul or haunt his dreams until the job was done. “Do they know what you’re doing?”

His eyes drifted to his coffee. “No comment,” he said, putting the cup to his lips, pinning her with a soft glare he was sure she saw right through. 

She called him with the address an hour after he left.

Javier didn’t have to sit long before Franklin appeared on the steps, bags in tow. He was going somewhere, but where was the question. A driver appeared, helping the man with his bags and once they were packed, a woman walked toward him. Javier watched from his SUV as Franklin took her hand. She didn’t look happy to be saying goodbye, and then he held her tight. 

A pang shot through Javier’s chest as the blonde woman folded into her husband’s arms. She didn’t want him to go, but she was there to say goodbye anyway. An image of Emily flashed through his mind. The night before he left, she hadn’t cried, but he saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way she hugged him. He wondered if his coldness had made her cry since that night. This was better for her. She would be better off without him. He let out a sigh as he turned the ignition to follow Franklin’s, cutting off the thought before it wracked his body with guilt. 

After following Jurado to the airport, Javier headed for his own flight to follow him. Stechner blocked it, pulling him into the jungle with a couple of senators to rub elbows, to take him out like a show pony, the man who brought down Escobar, except he wasn’t even in the country when that happened. Everyone seems to ignore that part. 

He seethed on the helicopter ride in, feigning a broken headset to avoid talking. There were plenty of other places Javier would rather be, anywhere else really. He was supposed to be taking down Cali, despite what his orders were. Hell, he’d rather run for his life through the communas again than take a couple of stuffy senators on a stroll through the jungle. 

Humidity hung heavy in the air as sweat soaked his shirt. He was used to the weather, but in dress shoes and slacks it was hell. To make it all worse, it was apparent from the get go that it was a set up, a fancy, high tailed lie to raise support for whatever the CIA was gunning for, fighting communists or whatever. Javier found the whole pursuit to be a gigantic waste of time. He’d smuggled a communist out of the country once, he’d do it again without a second thought, but one thing became abundantly clear. Cali’s surrender had nothing to do with the war on drugs and everything to do with fundraising. 

Javier’s blood boiled the entire ride home, replaying his conversation with Stechner. The way the CIA agent had laughed about the drug war as if it was a joke. Maybe it was, but Javier wasn’t ready to let this one go. 

“The drug war? We lost it. You were there!”

It echoed on a fucking loop, driving him crazy as he made his way back home. There weren’t enough cigarettes in the world to numb the blows and they kept coming. 

“Did you ever stop to think that someone who takes this as personally as you do, is doing it wrong?”

He stubbed out the bud against his truck door as he got out, marching up the steps as he knocked on the door. 

This was personal. He couldn’t go home empty handed. He couldn’t face her without knowing he’d made an impact on this fight, brought down men like the one who’d inflicted such scars on her.  

Colonel Martinez opened the door, breaking Javier from his thoughts. He looked surprised to see him. 

Javier cut to the chase. “Want to go after Gilberto Rodriguez?”

Journal Entry October 2nd, 1994 Javi,

Where the fuck are you? It feels like my best friend abandoned me. You abandoned me. 

The day they arrested Gilberto Rodriguez, Javier went through the wringer, the emotional ups and downs. The DEA was excited. The bullpen had given him a round of applause, wanted to toast him. He didn’t like that. The ambassador had torn him a new one. Javier wasn’t a fan of that either. A meeting of high ranking Colombian officials with the American representatives showed the scope. Some felt this gave them more leverage while others feared it would make things worse, but the president ordered that Gilberto go through the same process as any other citizen. Javier considered that a win. He didn’t take pleasure in the press conference. 

By the time he made it back to the office, he had a killer headache, but it was thankfully empty by then. Javier pulled out the whiskey and the cigarettes. He didn’t necessarily feel happy, but he felt as if he’d done something finally.

Javier didn’t stop to celebrate or rest. He turned focus right back to Franklin Jurado, refocusing his attention on the launderer, but not before stopping to put a big, red X through Gilberto’s picture. That brought him a moment of happiness, but he paused to wonder.

He wondered if she had heard the news, seen the press conference. Did Emily know how much of a driving force she was to him? How much he wanted to clear the earth of every single cartel and drug boss, to make her feel safe again. For a second, he contemplated calling her. Could he know? Had he atoned enough? He shook his head at the thought, gripping the marker tightly in his hand. He would never atone enough. 

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP

“Mr. Javi. It’s me. Alejandrina.”

“I’m here too!” Mateo’s voice called out, sounding more distant than his sister’s. 

“Miguelito is here too. Mom is working in the yard.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” Miguelito said. “Grandpa is going to see it on the phone bill.”

“You never called me back.” Alejandra continued. “I saw you on the news in grandpa’s office. He didn’t know I saw. It sounded like you caught the bad guys. Can you come home now?”

“There’s more than one bad guy.” Miguelito reminded her. 

Alejandra sighed frustratedly as she went off in Spanish at her older brother. There was static on the receiver and then Mateo started talking as his older siblings fought in the background. 

“Mr. Javi. Stay safe. We love you. Bye.” The machine clicked off. 

Javier spent the next week in meetings getting berated or praised for the DEA’s actions, but mostly the berated. The doubt crept in at times. Maybe he should have left well enough alone, but it never stayed for long. He’d done the right thing. He was certain of that. 

Neil spent most of his time listening to the Jurado tapes in search of a location of Franklin. Nothing was turning up yet, but he still held out hope. Each conversation Franklin and his wife had tugged on something in Javier’s heart. Maybe it was the way she begged him to turn himself in, her worry, the anxiety. 

Even as he sat at the end of the bar, eyes pinned to Christina Jurado, Javier felt the guilt ebbing at him. Last year, he wouldn’t have thought twice about using Christina’s situation to get the information. It was easy enough, buy her a drink, pull out the charm, trick her into telling him where Franklin was. So why did he feel so damn bad about it? Why could he only picture Emily in the same position? 

Her situation had been nothing like this. They were two separate people in two separate realities. So why was he struggling with this? Why couldn’t he separate the two women? He should call her. 

Javier shook his head, waving the bartender over. He ordered a drink for Christina, clearing his head and dusting off the charm as he waited for the drink to be delivered. 

She looked annoyed at first, but the moment his English caught her ears, he watched her entire demeanor change. Javier knew he had it in the bag, but it didn’t feel as good as it used to. And then the words slipped out, almost like his mouth had a mind of its own. 

“You reminded me of someone. Someone from home.”

She liked that line, but he wanted to shower the moment he said it. What right did he have to utter even her existence in this place? None, but he’d done it anyway. Further evidence that he’d done the right thing by not calling her. 

Even through the guilt gnawing at him, Javier played the dutiful flirt. Almost lost himself in it, almost dared to enjoy it.

“So what could pull him away from-” He looked her up and down. “From all this.”

The words repeated in his mind. What could pull him away from her? In both cases the answer was the same. The Drug War. This all powerful thing that had left him battered and bruised yet kept drawing him back in. 

Christina paused, gave him another once over and then slid from her seat. “Say hi to Texas for me.”

Javi gave her credit, she was committed to her husband, or maybe his flirting skills weren’t as good as they used to be, either way, it was plan B. He called out the name she’d never told him, told her who he was, and she all but spit in his face. 

When Javier showed up at her front door later that day, she didn’t turn him away. He may not have learned where Franklin was, but she gave him the time of day. She listened. She all but told him she would try to convince her husband to turn himself in. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t look at him as he set his card on the coffee table, a far away look in her eyes, no doubt replaying the past, just like Emily when- Javier cut the thought off. This wasn’t her. This was different. 

He reasoned that he was doing this to help Christina, to keep her safe, but he knew that wasn’t true, his own selfish motives landing in the forefront of his mind. It was for the greater good, but how many people had he harmed for the greater good? 

Before he left, Javier vowed to keep Christina out of harm’s way. It was the least he could do. This time would be different.

It worked. Christina called Franklin almost as soon as he left. By the grace of god, the tap caught the man thanking someone in the language, specific enough to track him down to Curaçao. 

Before the night was over, Javier sat at the airport bar tapping his fingers against the smooth surface. He still couldn’t shake the feeling, the deceit of it all. He was caught off guard when his SAT phone rang. He answered, keeping an eye out at the bar around him. 

“Peña,” He answered, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“Uh, it’s me… Christina Jurado.”

“I’m glad you called… You okay?”

“Please don’t lie to me,” Christina said. She sounded nervous, worried. “If I do this- if I get my husband to- you can protect us? We can go home?”

Javier’s chest tightened. He finished off his drink. “You have my word.” But he didn’t know how much his word carried these days.

She hesitated before answering. “I talked to him.”

“You did? That’s good.”

“He’s gonna cooperate.”

“He said that?” Javier picked up his duffel bag.

“No, not yet- but he will. I just… I need a little time.”

“That’s fine.” Javier walked down the terminal. “You take all the time you need.” 

He hung up without another exchange, just before his flight was announced over the intercom. Internally, he repeated his early promise. He’d keep her safe. 

Journal Entry October 15th, 1994

I dropped my classes today. I haven’t been able to make it to class. I thought I could do it. You thought I could do it…

Javier had almost forgotten the adrenaline rush of chasing down the bad guys. The hunt for Gilberto had been one thing, but the thrill of actually chasing someone down, weaving through the crowds, finally getting him. It felt good. It felt like a win when even his wins felt like losses these days. 

In all of Javier’s days in law enforcement, he’d never had someone ask about their wife. Never had anyone worried for anyone’s safety but their own, and he assured Franklin that she would meet them in Miami. 

Javier couldn’t help but admire the Jurado’s commitment to one another. For one, it made it a lot easier to get his witness, yet there was something about them. Tangled up in this mess, but still committed, still loving each other. 

As they landed, his phone rang again. Christina called him, freaking out about the men at her apartment. He had to tell her they’d arrested him. She reacted as he expected, upset and anxious, and surprisingly, his guilt had subsided. Maybe it was because they had Franklin. Maybe it was because he knew if she could get herself to the embassy, she would be safe. He’d done it. He’d brought Franklin in, and he hadn’t destroyed a family in the process. She just needed to get herself a couple miles before they found out Franklin was in custody.

“Christina, you want it, this is it.” He cut off her rambling firmly. “As soon as we hang up the phone, you get yourself to the American embassy. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t call anyone. You get yourself there.”

He caught the whispers of her agreement before the line went dead. 

He paused a second after the call ended, staring at the keypad. Maybe it was the American soil. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually starting to feel good about this. He thought about calling for real, so close to punching the numbers he had memorized. Then he was reminded that he was on the tarmac. The job wasn’t done, but afterward, maybe he would call her. Except, Christina never made it to the embassy. 

An envelope with Emily’s handwriting greeted Javier when he got back to his apartment in Colombia. The return address confirmed it as he stared at it in the dim light of his apartment, rereading the address like he might catch a clue to its contents in the ink strokes. He debated opening it. The kids’ secret phone call to him from a couple weeks ago, the only message that accompanied Emily’s on his answering machine, ran through his mind. 

It was too late for this. It had been a long couple of days. The guilt that had returned tenfold since he left Miami without calling Emily, with Christina’s whereabouts unknown, but he ripped the seal open anyway. 

It was likely Emily ripping him apart, angry with him for abandoning her. Even the kids’ voicemail hadn’t been enough to make him call. He didn’t deserve them. Any of them. He was better off out of their lives.

He rubbed his forehead as he unfolded the paper, but it wasn’t words that greeted him, but bright colors and advanced stick figures drawn in crayon, five people. He furrowed his brow, looking back at the envelope. In the corner was Alejandra’s name atop the return address. In the picture, two adults, three kids, and a couple of horses all smiled back at him. He couldn’t help his own smile that ghosted his lips. Paz and Hurricane. His heart clenched. He hoped that Ale was still taking lessons at the ranch, and the boys practicing with the lasso. Alejandra had written their names above each person. 

He’d been a dick. Hadn’t returned calls like he said he would, promised he would, but Ale still wanted him to have this, Emily still sent it. She didn’t have to. She could have lied and thrown it in the trash instead. 

Javier cleared his throat as the page began to blur a little bit. He needed to go to sleep. He grabbed the maintenance magnet, using it to pin the drawing to his fridge. 

This time would be different. 

...........................................................

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[sunlightmurdock]

katie my dear! 🧡🧡 i’m beyond excited for spook week, i can’t wait to read everything that you cook up! 🥹

i’ve been missing sweet loverboy sub rosa rooster lately, so may i pls request a little something for him and lil kazansky with pillow forts from the cozy prompts list??

thank you so much ily!! 🤭🥰🧡💛

- @sugarcoated-lame 🎃👻🧡

Hi Kricket!! I’m always missing lover boy Rooster! Here’s a little bit of him doing what he does best 🫶

One-Hundred Percent | Sub Rosa Rooster

spooktober masterlist | fic masterlist

warnings: can be read as a standalone, rooster x college age reader, unspecified but mentioned age gap. Head warnings of full fic for subtext

There were only a handful of times that Rooster made the drive up to your college apartment. Well, maybe a little over a handful. Work commitments and senior year deadlines kept you apart a lot of the time, and with your apartment up there being a shared space and his apartment back home being fifteen minutes from your father’s place — it wasn’t an easy operation to organise.

Maybe the stars had just aligned for this particular weekend.

Your roommates were gone, back visiting their own families for a while, and he had a whole six days of leave, four of which were all yours. He had arrived on the Friday, mid-afternoon, leaning against the hood of his car in a tight-fitting flannel and blue jeans as you had gotten out of your last class for the day.

Your third official date had consisted of mini golf and dinner and a walk across campus, pointing out the sights and telling him the stories of your four years there.

Although this was far from the first time that the two of you were sleeping together, there was still something strangely intimate about taking him home to your apartment. Something that always made you a little bashful.

It would have been easy enough to just go right to bed once he had gotten you home, it had been a month since he had seen you last and god knows that he’d missed you enough to have contemplated this night for a long time.

Long enough to have decided that he wanted to make the most of your time together.

The idea had started out as a joke, lounging across the couch and in the middle of your first real deep and prying conversation. You had made a throwaway comment about wishing this was more private, wanting a place within the four walls of your room that was just for the two of you and your new secrets.

It hadn’t ever been part of the plan for him to take you seriously, but he had seen the big smile on your face when he had pretended to begin the little project. The giggle that spilled from your lips as he started to rearrange furniture to make it work.

“Just so you know,” He had explained, tossing a thick and fuzzy blanket onto the floor for the base of his fort, amusement sparking in the warm brown of his eyes. “I don’t half ass things.”

“Oh no?” You had checked, beaming as you leaned back on your palms across your bedspread. “You’re not going to half ass your pillow fort?”

He had smiled at you with a look in his eyes that told you he was referring to much deeper things than pillow forts, but he had answered with a chuckle anyway. “Our pillow fort.”

In the months following, you would grow to learn that really, he doesn’t half ass anything when it comes to you.

Even then, when his work is meticulous and the pillows have been rearranged for the hundredth time — for structural integrity’s sake — you can’t help but lay back, stare at the blanket sky above your heads, and smile. He really had done a pretty fantastic job.

He’s got one arm under your head, draped around your shoulder as he cuddles you against his side, and the other resting on his stomach. Unashamed both in the way he admires his handiwork, and the way that you look in his arms.

Already decided, then and there, that this is much more than a fling.

…

[airplanned]

TotK Mini Fic

Do not read unless you’ve gotten all the memories and done the Tarry Town stuff.  For real.  Scroll on.

I’m this far into the game, so please don’t tell me more in the comments.

I’ve seen some people write angst, and--y’all--no.  This is the BEST.

Maybe it’s Rhondson’s own melancholy, but Link looks down.  He is not as excited as a man about to buy a dream home should be.  Distractedly, he stares off into the sky behind her as if searching for something, as if thinking really hard.

“So what do you think?” she chirps, trying to put enough excitement for both of them into her sales pitch. (It’s so rude of him to make her do that.  Doesn’t he realize that she’s having a hard day, sending her baby off?)

“I already have a…It’s complicated.”

“Look, I’ll give you’re a discount for all your help.  This could be your dream home!  Completely customizable!  And everyone could do with more space!”

He freezes.  He blinks rapidly a few times, and she can see the gears turn, see him come back to himself.  His face seems to light up as he finally looks her in the eye.

“How much space?”

 #

 Link’s house looks like a pagoda.  Tall and open.  He’s put some ramps on top to give a bad illusion of a slanted roof.

And…well…to each their own. That is the beauty of the Hudson Dream Home: if you can dream it, they can build it.

The first floor is a big square of normal house things. His bedroom tucked behind the stairs, a display of swords that…well, no one knows how he got swords that look untouched by decay, but there they are.  A prominent kitchen where he’ll show off that latest fruitcake he’s made for his girl. “We play this game where I try to throw bites into her mouth.”

There are piles of giant glowing scales and what look like shining monster claws. They look like they were neatly sorted at one point, but now there are just too many.   What are they? And why does it feel like they sing? For potions, he says.  And sometimes he fuses them to weapons.  

If anyone notices the tiny study he has tucked away, he gets bashful, rubbing the back of his head and saying that his girl likes quiet when she’s working.  If she ever…well, if she…he wanted to have a space ready for her.

“One time she asked if I would still love her if she turned into a wyrm.”  Then he laughs.

There are paintings. One of him and the princess and some other people all smooshed together for a group shoot.  One of Link and four glowing ghostly figures, all of them smiling.

Then there’s the one of the dragon.  It takes up the whole wall and is nearly life sized.  Link holds his slate out at arm’s length to catch his beaming face and one, giant, dragon eye framed with gold lashes.

If anyone comments on the dragon, he gets excited and says something like, “Isn’t she pretty?” or “Her face is very soft,” or “Do you see her antlers?  Aren’t they neat?”

Honestly, asking about anything Link gets up to just leads to more questions.  It’s not worth it.

The second floor is open to the air like a gazebo.  Around that, on the roof of the first floor, he’s put flower beds, which he tends with care, frowning over journals and botany books.  After a few weeks, the flower bloom, lighting up at night with a blue-white light you can see from Tarry Town.  Sometimes they’ll catch him carrying a bouquet.  “Bringing them to my girl.  I think I can braid them into her hair.”

As he plants his hands on his hips and surveys his construction with pride and hope, he explains, “She takes up a lot of space.  I imagine she’ll kind of…spread.”  He waves his hands a bit to express that she would presumably leave stuff everywhere.

He seems delighted by the prospect.

“If I can get her to visit, I think she’ll like this.  Yeah,” he sighs.  “She’ll like this.”

[rose-lunaire]

blaise zabini | halloween special

slytherin halloween masterlist

pairing: blaise zabini x gn!reader, implied mattheo riddle x gn!reader, pansy parkinson x gn!reader (platonic)

warnings: haunted objects, graphic language

“old people freak me out” crabbe let out a hysterical laugh. “what?” hearing blaise’s response, draco and goyle join in on the joke. “oh no, so that’s why you’ve been skipping transfiguration lately, huh?” the comment sparked another wave of snickering. “says the one who nearly shit his pants while speaking beside dumbledore’s office” “it was literally first grade” “yeah, yeah, whatever lets you sleep at night, mate”

“wait, is this about the granny we saw in hogsmead on sunday?” your cheeks reddened as the room fell silent. it was no secret that you and blaise have been making circles around each other since the start of the school year. stares that lasted a spilt second too long to be friendly. mock duels that ended with both of you panting on the floor, giggling between snarky remarks about the spells you used. everyone could feel the tension, including you.

so when you finally decided to act upon it, you did it in secret. there is some truth in the stereotype that slytherin are jealous and vindictive. blaise wanted to spare you the judgemental glances of gryffindors and snide remarks from your friends. they could joke all they wanted, but as long as they had no proof of your relationship, the rumours were bound to die down as quickly as they gained traction.

well, that plan was no longer available.

“oh my god, y/n, is that what think it is?” pansy gushed and hugged you tightly. “n-no, please, it’s not-“ she shushed you and whispered “oh you don’t need to explain yourself to me, i totally understand” you looked her in the eyes, searching for any trace of sarcasm or dishonesty. to your surprise, there were none. “i’ve seen the way you look at mattheo, don’t worry, i got your back honey” she winked and smiled devilishly. what have you gotten yourself into.

“so, what about her, blaise?”the boy tensed up at the way pansy articulated his name. he stared at you for a second too long, looking for an explanation. you nudged him playfully. “you know, the one selling the trinkets opposite to three broomsticks” he coughed up before answering “yeah, there’s something weird about her, i’ve never seen anyone ever buying from her” draco let out a teasing chuckle. “that’s great, let’s find out why. right boys?” crabbe and goyle grinned in a way that made your stomach twist.

saturday was wet and foggy. roads smelled of rotting leaves and tipsy hogwarts students, empty and full of life at the same time. the whole way to the village you kept looking over your shoulder, finding only four pairs of eyes staring at you teasingly. you tightened the knot on your scarf.

"yo, she's not here, buddy" mattheo gave blaise a bored look. "haven't you heard the story? locals say she never stays at the same spot. let's go search some more" pansy was getting impatient "maybe she decided to sit this one out, can't blame her, this weather is horrible" "seriously, if we don't find her in the next ten minutes, let's just go for butterbeer and come back" you suggested, your tone careless, but heart trembling.

pansy was right. if it wasn't for this stupid joke you would gladly stay at the library, inhaling the atmosphere of overcaffeinated pupils and catching up on some potions essay. on a second thought, anything would be better than hanging out outside.

you felt a sudden pain in your arm. "hey, we're here, stop daydreaming" your friend whisper-shouted. "that doesn't give you the permission to hit me" you groaned, rubbing the aching spot. "you're right, but i'm doing you a big favour, so it doesn't matter"

the past few days have been a pain in the ass, all because pansy deluded herself that you're hopelessly infatuated with mattheo. gushing everytime you passed him in the corridor, giggling when snape gave you an assignment together. but at the same time, you were relieved she was no longer bothering you about blaise.

"um, mornin' m'am" blaise was visibly distressed, pushed out by draco in the accompaniment of goyle’s snickering. you couldn’t do anything, you were standing on the crossroad with everyone and helping him out would result in months of teasing, which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. the lady didn’t seem to notice his presence until he took a step back from the stand. “your sweetheart would like to receive this” the colour drained from his face. he quickly nodded, payed and wobbly walked your way. mattheo run up to him just in time. blaise whispered few words, scrunched his face and fell to his knees.

the teddy bear has been staring at your for hours. whether you slept, studied or ate you could feel its eyes on you. at any other occasion you would find it romantic: a gift from your boyfriend that can keep you company when he can’t. but the glass beads sown into the warm fabric were weird. never reflected the rays of the sun. they were crystal clear but you couldn’t seem to find your reflection in them. they seemed… dead.

at first it kept sitting on your nightstand, patiently waiting for your return from class. the next day you would find it in your school bag or sitting on your desk, giving you judgemental glances as if you were late to an important meeting. but the worst part about this situation was that it but a strain on your relationship with blaise. as your secret spot became infested with the teddy bear’s presence you couldn’t even talk in peace.

hell, you couldn’t even sleep properly. you could swear you saw its eyes glowing at night, but maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you. because it wasn’t any of your roommates. everyone was scared shitless of this toy. even draco told explicitly to “keep this crap out of his sight”

it was bad, really bad.

but the real nightmare started when the plushie started to appear in your dreams. telling you the darkest thoughts of your friends. describing the smell of decomposing corpses of cholera patients. making up next creative ways how to get rid of your loved ones. placing the ugliest of curses in their lips. making them into the people you knew they weren’t. but the longer it went on, the more you started to doubt your own thoughts.

the final straw was when you yelled at flitwick during an exam. one moment you were sitting down, quietly writing down your answers, trying to remember all the things you studied the day before. but something wasn’t right. you kept on scratching your arms, every single a different itchy spot. your moves became agitated, hair falling all over the place, grunting at every irritation your nails created on your skin.

it was probably one of the weasley twins playing tricks on you. or some wicked way mattheo’s fangirl was getting her revenge. or this dirty nerd sitting in front of you never fucking showers and has just transferred some bug onto your precious skin. before you knew it someone was caressing your arm, trying to get you to stop moving. but it only fuelled you anger: you wanted to scratch out every eyeball that dared observe your agony in peace. you fantasised about the way their blood would drip down your arms, covering you in crimson liquid.

oh, how nice it would feel! how their sacrifice would make the flame on your skin die slowly and painfully. how their screams and dread would drown out all your painful thoughts. maybe the way the veins would splatter on the floor would stop you from scratching your brains out just to let go of these painful desires.

you were panting. “miss greengrass, would you mind escorting our y/n to madame’s-“ the anxious notes in the professors voice made you laugh groggily. “don’t you fucking dare disturb my work ever again” you hissed before picking up your quill and resuming the assignment.

“okay, i’ve had enough” blaise sat you down at the common room. everyone was there sitting in a circle, the plushie thrown in the middle. it looked almost pitiful: abandoned by the person who was supposed to love and cherish it. but you didn’t care. you slumped beside pansy, your eyes barely open, swollen from all the times you cried today. the silence was deafening, making you regret even coming here in the first place. you were all exhausted and had to do something with it.

a few ideas were thrown around, with not much of a response. everything seemed so blank, so helpless in comparison to the power sleeping inside of that teddy bear. finally nott articulated what crossed your minds. “we have to kill it” he whispered. goyle coughed nervously. it was the only way your desperate minds could understand.

someone brought a knife. you were staring at it impatiently, waiting for the surge of anger so common these days. but it never came. instead there was emptiness. deep sadness and no hope in sight. you had no power over this thing. but it had all the power over you. so you grabbed the plushie. threw it against the wall, stomped on it, jumped repeatedly, until there was no energy left in your body. you couldn’t do anything towards it. you just could force yourself to hurt it.

so blaise stood up and took it from your hands. tore the fabric apart with a single motion, full of tears and unexpressed fear. he dropped the two parts to the floor. as your got lost in each others arms, there was a lingering sound of stabbing. each of your friends had a knife now: boring the blades deep into the bears cozy filling. and they didn’t stop until a single thread was intact in this toy.

harry potter masterlist

[peoplepersonoaktree]

Is this how I reply to comments like this? Idk. Anyway~

@banana-pancake5 if you actually wanted me to answer this, here-

HOLY CRAP THIS IS GONNA BE LONG-

Hopefully not too long- I'll try not to rant too much, we'll se tho

so, the Au is your basic, “what if Mikey wasn’t able to open a portal?” Au, which has been done a whole lot, I know, but oh well. I’ve been working on it since like, July and I’ve only gotten to pg 19, so idk if I’ll ever finish it.

so, one day, in like, mid June, when I first started actually trying to draw the turtles, I started drawing a thing in this little baby sketchbook I have, based on the song “Georgia” by Jonah Kagen. And then I sent it to my friend. And then it grew and we eventually came up with this and this entire storyline. We just kinda plotted this thing out where like, two weeks after the invasion, Donnie starts getting these weird visions of Leo in the prison dimension because why not, and tries to get him back with Casey's help or whatever because he thinks that these visions mean that Leo's still alive. Here’s the original pictures because I think they can be in here-

Idk. I didn’t know how to draw clothes and still don’t 😃👍

I don’t think I’ll ever post the comic on tumblr or anywhere because I probably won’t ever finish it, but if I get to a certain point in the comic, (which is way far away) maybe I will. Idk.

*Cough* and then I also have a mini thing where I turned them all into mushroom people but that's a whole different thing-

NOW TO THE KID’S SHOW WHICH IS THE PART I’M ACTUALLY EXCITED ABOUT~

Like I said in this post, my friend texted me at like, 2 am on a school night, and was like, "Hey, hey hey... wanna write and animate a kid's show w/ me??" and I said heck yeah because I definitely have time for that. I asked her if she had any idea for what it would be about or anything like that and she did not, so we just kinda... pulled something out of the ground the next day and I ended up getting obsessed.

So, the kid's show...

We haven't figured out a name for it because we're both indecisive, which is... bad if you're trying to get something done. But we got characters and half a storyline settled!

So, the show is centered around four main characters, Atlas (A deer), Fern (A fox), Nutmeg (Mouse), and M I L D R E D (a chickadee). They're also in the post linked above.

The show would be about these four, going on little adventures, exploring the forest where they live, discovering odd creatures (thinking about adding in a few Acorn Creetchurs because that would be fun) and just living life

but as the series continues, the colors start to get more muted and the backgrounds start to get more gray, as if the life is being drained out of the forest.

one day, while exploring, they come upon this odd sort of... black goop that's spreading across the forest floor, infecting and killing everything it comes into contact with. Then, the four of them have to find a way to stop the spread of this odd goop. This goop represents pollution/deforestation, and we have a few ideas for how the goop started, one of my favorites being that it's controlled by some sort of animal spirit that grew up in a heavily polluted area and died at a young age because of the conditions and the only reason it's spreading is because it wants to be able to breathe fresh air and drink clean water for once, but it can't, because everything it touches immediately becomes polluted.

We both went into this knowing absolutely N O T H I N G about animating, so it'll probably be a few years until we're actually able to do anything with this, if we do anything with it.

That- that little animation is the most I can do with animation. That's the best I got.

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Hi Lemon!! 🍋 nice Ask week🍑 right back at ya!

1. Same question as you asked me, when did you join the ls fandom and what made you join?☺️

2. In honor of your Eid fic for the platonic relationships event (which I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the time to finish and give the love it deserves yet since I got home😫) If you could choose one platonic relationship that got more focus in s5 which would you choose and what would be the storyline surrounding it?

3. Since you’re so good at putting silliness and laughs into the fandom, if Tim and Ryan asked you to write an episode (or just some of it) full of crack and shenanigans that includes at least three out of these 5 things: 1) a stubborn pony, 2) a midieval gown 3) a basket full of peaches 🍑🍑 3) a shit-ton of five-spice and 4) an accidentally unsexy sexy playlist, what would roughly transpire?

(You can choose to answer as many of the questions as you want no pressure)

Hope you’re enjoying your weekend!! - Mar🐟🌼

Hi Mar!! Thank you for this very nice 🍑!

1. I’m not really sure, lol! I’ve been watching the show since the first episode. I used to creep on Reddit. But I found myself getting more and more annoyed that all of the important Tarlos scenes kept happening offscreen. And then Push aired and I got super annoyed with them going from TK waking up to moving into the loft with not so much as a conversation. And I remembered someone on Reddit had mentioned that Tim made a snarky comment about how people should go to fanfic if they want resolution for any of his dangling thread stories so I was like okay I guess I’ll check that out… and then at the end of season four I found myself on tumblr!! 😂

2. Marjan and TK!!!!!! I want more Marjan and TK content so bad!!! I want Marjan’s sister to visit and the three of them to go to the Turkish tea house. Maybe an earthquake hits while they’re out, and Marj and TK have to pull a bunch of people to safety and save some folks and they enlist Sahar to help. And at the end of the episode Sahar comes to Catan night and she and Marjan have a lovely talk about how she really sees that Marjan is living the life she’s meant to live and she’s built this beautiful supportive found family and she’s proud of her 🥰

3. Okay, Tarlos spends the weekend at the Reyes ranch. Carlos takes TK horseback riding but he’s worried about putting TK on an actual horse, due to all the head injuries, so he assigns him a pony named Tator. Except Tator is very stubborn and refuses to take left turns!!! So he walks straight into a lake with TK still on his back. Carlos comes to his rescue and TK tries to turn it into a sexy Mr. Darcy in the lake situation. Except Tator is eating his shirt.

Undeterred in his quest for sexiness, when they get dried off TK goes out to the orchards snd comes back with a basket of peaches and a very suggestive look. Carlos gets the hint and they start to get their sexy on but before they can get too far they’re interrupted by Tator, who has broken out of the stables and tramples their sexy peach picnic.

Once Tator is subdued TK sequesters Carlos in the bedroom and puts on a sexy playlist. But instead of Sade and Barry Manilow, they’re blasted with WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT WHOoOOoOOooaaaH!!!!!

Meanwhile, Paul is making his famous goat curry for lunch back at the station. Mateo tries to help but he gets distracted by a woman wearing a medieval gown who’s entered the firehouse with a basket of peaches for the handsome fire captain who resuscitated her after she fell off the pole in her pole dancing class. She tries to flirt with Owen, but is mercifully cut off by the bell. The crew races downtown to a spice factory, where there’s been a malfunction and a machine is spewing five spice everywhere. Judd is red faced and crying about his Scotch-Irish constitution. Being the smallest one, Mateo has to climb inside the machine to shut it off.

In the end, everyone is covered in five spice and they spend the whole trip back to the station crying about how they can never eat Chinese food again 😂

[crybaby-bkg]

hi!! i have an extremely specific question kind of based (not really) around "our love is god”. kinda like if things went a bit differently… I would like your input :)

hypothetically, reader has her birthday while broken up with satoru. and its an important one! reader and he had broken up somewhat amicably and its been almost four months. satoru and reader have not interacted more than twice (a petty argument and a whole 'I miss you' mess) in the two months directly after break up that tore reader up! anyways, reader needed TIME and SPACE. not a full breakup for all of eternity. reader and satoru were friends before so they both just wanted that feeling of home back. so reader has her birthday and she has been waiting for two months to finally be ready to go back to him. and she's decided that she was going to wait for him to reach out first to gauge where they’re at. if he reaches out, he still cares, maybe even still loves her and wants to be with her. Its been two months since he reached out with a dragged out version of “I love you and miss you and will always care for you but I am okay with whatever you decide to do (even if that is to never speak to me again) and I will leave everything moving forward between us in your hands”. But if he doesn’t, reader figures that maybe he doesn’t care or love her at all, maybe he’s moved on and has a new girl, a bunch of negatives basically. So her birthday comes and she hears nothing from him and decides to fully remove any and everything of him from her life and give her all into moving on fully. 

Would OLIG Satoru leave her high and dry on her special day post break up to respect her space or would he go out of his way to tell her hbd? < Even if it’s the simplest “Happy Bday” text. How would he go about the situation and what do you personally think he should do? 

So sorry if this is an uncomfortable, weird ask. Pls feel no obligation to respond. I loved the fic and will commenting on AO3 once I get my bearings together lol. Much love to you <333

𝐿

omg please don’t apologize!!!! OLIG is one of my fav fics and this is like the first legit question I’ve gotten for it so this made my day 😭😭😭

but this was such a good question!!!!! in all honesty, I don’t think he would text reader. he used to be the one who would send the first text at midnight with a prepared paragraph he’s been writing days in advance. but you wanted space, didn’t you? didn’t want to be bombarded and overwhelmed with his love, right?

so he doesn’t say anything for most of the day, even though reader is just anticipating it lowkey since the clock struck midnight. but there are three different routes I’m stuck between:

1. he doesn’t text you. at all. doesn’t call, doesn’t DM you, nothing. he doesn’t even acknowledge it until days later when he ‘runs’ into you by coincidence, throwing in a “oh and happy birthday” halfway into small talk when you can’t escape him. it feels flippant, like he doesn’t care to remember anymore, but that hurts too much to think about.

2. he, again, doesn’t text you but he DOES ‘just so happen’ to show up at the place you’re celebrating your birthday at. eases his way into the little restaurant he’s taken you to too many times to count before. he seems to meet your eye as soon as he walks in, like he knows you’ll always take the corner booth in the back that he fingered you at. and you look shy when he comes up to you, grinning, him and suguru both singing happy birthday to you a little too loud just to embarrass you. and although he goes to his own table, your eyes never leave his the whole night. and maybe he convinces you to forgive him. just for tonight.

3. he DOES text you in the middle of the day. not too long, a pretty standard happy birthday message with one too many heart emojis. he sends you a picture of you from your last birthday, his too big hands squishing your cheeks as you grin at the camera. your heart aches, and maybe it’s a bad idea, but asking him to take you out for drinks on your birthday wouldn’t be the absolute worst idea?

you asked for one answer and I gave you three ALSJSKDJD I hope this was satisfactory though!!!! it really had my mind going (quite possibly for another part to the story 👁️)

[frozenwolftemplar]

@twotangledsisters  I was answering your ask, but had to put it in drafts because I got called away. When I came back, the draft was mysteriously gone. I guess tumblr ate it? So, here we go, take two:

🍉 How has writing helped you process trauma/navigate through life?  -- I’ve only been writing creatively in earnest since 2019, so I don’t have a whole lot to say on this front, but I can say that in the four years since I’ve started writing has become so important to me mentally. I’ve come to turn to writing to distract myself when life gets to be upsetting or just too much; there have been some pretty rough times over the last four years where I worked on a fic as a sort of coping mechanism. And if I’m having a bad day, I can funnel all those angsty, frustrating feelings into prose. Beyond that, writing has helped me learn more about myself, what I’m passionate about, and what makes me tick; I really feel like myself when I’m writing (if that makes sense?), and I wouldn’t have found that out if I hadn’t started writing just for the fun of it.

💫 What kind of comments do you like receiving best? -- Any comments! 😄  I’m always touched and thrilled when someone leaves their thoughts on one of my fics, whether it’s just a quick ‘this was great, loved it!’ or a thought-out analysis that has me seeing what I wrote in a new light (I’ve had people pick up little subtext-type things that I had no idea I was including). The fact that they took some time out of their day to share their thoughts just makes me happy, no matter how many or how few words they use (essay comments included; I love seeing someone get that excited about my fics!). 

What’s a fic you wish you could breathe new life into/get people talking about again? -- There’s actually several. ‘Constellations’ , one of my earliest Little Cass fics, instantly comes to mind. For some reason a lot of people seemed to pass over it when it was new, and seeing how I’m still really happy with how it turned out, I’d like to draw people’s attention to it again.

Another one is my ‘epic’ ‘The First Night,’ not because of any dissatisfaction on my part, but because I just love fics about Cap finding and bonding with Cass so much and will never ever tire of them. While I have some AU versions I’m working on, I love my canon-compliant version and truly wouldn’t mind re-living the experience of writing and sharing it all over again.

Lastly, the majority of my ‘Frozen’ fics. Nearly every one has failed to garner any traction whatsoever. I think it’s because the fanfic corner of the ‘Frozen’ fandom is *very* into shipping, and most of my fics are gen, hence not what most people there are looking to read (coincidentally, my two fics that *did* get attention were focused on a ship). I’m really happy with them, so I’m okay with the somewhat chilly reception, but I’ve got a few that I’m actually super proud of and wish had gotten more attention than they did (honestly, gen fics need *way* more love than they typically get).

These were really great questions that were a lot of fun to answer! Thanks so much for the ask! (sorry it took me a spell to get to this; I don’t dare try and type something of this length on my phone, and my laptop’s been acting up lately)

[star-going-supernova]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written (or if you don't have five, then just your favs), then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's get that self esteem boosted ❤ Stay safe and hydrated!

Though please don't be pressured to do this. If you don't wanna answer this, that's fine! It's just a game, nothing to stress about :)

Aww, thank you, friend!! ❤️ I’ve done this once before (here’s that post!) but I will happily do it again! I won’t do any repeats from the original list, so these are my 6–10 top favorites, in no particular order! 

Taking the Plunge — Godzilla 

take the plunge: to enter with sudden decision upon an unfamiliar course of action, as after hesitation or deliberation plunge: to cast oneself into water When scales start showing up across her skin, Maddie decides she's not going to spend the rest of her life agonizing over it. Whatever happens, happens. As long as she keeps her freedom, she doesn't mind the mutations.

I had this in the honorable mentions of the last post, and I said I’d have picked it if I could’ve done more than five, so here it is, lol! I’ll leave the rest of the honorable mentions alone, tho. Anyway, TTP is a fic I’m proud of for a couple reasons, and not just because I managed to finish it. I’m really happy with the story itself, and mutations like that hit the spot for me. I’m a real sucker for people embracing their otherness, no matter how monstrous it might be. It was a fun story to write, and it’s earned its place as one of my favorites. 

• • • 

Haunted — Little Nightmares 

“What was your nightmare about?” Mono asked curiously. He was little more than a shadowy silhouette in the dark, but she could pick out the shine of his eyes from the rest of him. “The hospital?” “No,” she said. “It was the Hunter. From before you freed me.” (Before Mono came, there was Six and the Hunter. Sometimes, there was a locked door between them. Sometimes, there wasn’t.)

I know I included the whole series this fic came from in the last top five list, but I can’t help singling this one out. I’ve gone back and reread this one many times since I wrote it, and I’m so happy with and proud of the way it came out. It can be a little nerve-wracking sometimes to insert a character’s backstory of your own creation, especially when dealing with such heavy topics as this one did. But I love it, and I’ve gotten some truly wonderful comments about it, so it’s a favorite of mine.

• • •

A Hole in His Heart (And Also the Wall) — Five Nights at Freddy’s

Funny enough, he noticed the four wet floor sign bots first, surrounding what his brain first said was a pile of scrap. But the heap of filthy metal and plastic had a very particular shape, a recognizable one. Gregory’s mouth dropped open. And then he turned and scrambled back to the vent. (A "Gregory finds Bonnie" fic, featuring Freddy handling the news suuuper normally.)

This was such a fun one to write, and it’s one of my favorites just for Freddy smashing bodily through the wall like the Kool Aid man. It’s not often I include so many characters in a one-shot, so I’m doubly happy with how the interactions all came out. 

• • • 

Miracles (And Those Who Make Them) — Bendy and the Ink Machine

“You want,” Henry said slowly, refusing to open his eyes and subject himself to the hopeful look on his friend’s face, “to make a human with the Ink Machine. Not a human toon, but a real, actual, flesh human. Why.” “I’ve been thinking—” Joey said. “Well, please stop,” Henry begged him. (An AU where everything is fine and wonderful and Henry never left. The toons have their world, the humans love to visit them, and Joey Drew has just decided he wants to add a new member to the family.)

Gosh, I need to finish this! I kinda forgot about it (oops!) back when I was sick-ish for a month, and my writing habits have been all over the place since, but I’ll get back to it eventually. Anyway, it’s a favorite because I’m super happy with the overall worldbuilding, and it’s probably one of my favorite portrayals of Henry and Joey’s relationship. Platonic soulmates who are co-parenting a child made with magic for the win! 

• • •

Public Displays of Affection — Bendy and the Ink Machine 

Joey wasted no time dipping Henry backwards, laughing at his partner’s noise of surprise. He pulled up after achieving the reaction he’d evidently wanted, and it took only a moment for them to settle into a pose, their hands mostly where Pierre wanted them. They weren’t leaning too far back to put a strain on either of them, but it was very clearly a dip. All that remained was the kiss. “May I?” Joey murmured, nearly inaudible to anyone but his partner. And though Henry rolled his eyes, he replied, just as soft, “You may.” (Five times Henry and Joey kissed at the studio, and one time they kissed at home.)

I love the whole series this fic is part of, but this is the one I most frequently go back to reread. It hits a couple of my favorite things: outside POV, possessive behavior, a sassy character (or two or three), and a fond, nearly humorous but utterly genuine relationship. It’s also probably the most relationship-y relationship I’ve ever written, so I’m proud of that too, lol. 

[arachne18]

A group of demon worshipping cultists mistakenly summoned an eldritch god instead of a demon.

⠂⠂⠂

It wasn’t my fault. Darren told me to do it and I know what you’re gonna say. “You’re eighteen years old, Chris. You should know not to do something just because someone tells you.” Okay well for your information, he made a really good case and it was supposed to be a little one. Why summon a demon at all. Well this is where i have to come clean, Mrs. Mason. I didn’t actually study for the essay like you told me to. I know! I know. If I don’t pass this essay I’d fail, but I’m supposed to be going to college next year and I really didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not that any of that matters, now. I’m really sorry. I wish I could fix this. 

⠂⠂⠂

Assigning an essay is a lot of extra work for the teacher involved. For one essay I have to read it more than once, give comments on the writing itself, correct it where needed, grade it according to my rubric and then put it in the gradebook. Add one or two existential crises about my teaching ability and the system as a whole, then multiply it by about 120- oh 144, sorry fourth period- and it actually takes a lot of time. Plus, I still have to make lesson plans, make copies, and help seniors with college admission essays. I never have time for hobbies anymore, but that's what summers are for, right? 

That night was later than usual. I decide to be extra crazy and tick everything off my checklist. Help seniors, check. Make Copies, check. Lesson plan, check. I was starting on the essays, thinking about calling it a night since it was in fact night. I was staring at the turn-it-in bin, eyes glazing over, when the whole building shook. The school was a square box built in the fifties with brick walls you couldn’t stick posters to. It was used to shelter during tornadoes and fires, so the fact that something had made it tremble was not a good sign. My first thought was “bomb”. We’d gotten more than one threat over the years, but I’d heard no sound. So, earthquake? But we don’t get earthquakes. It’s Missouri. I ran out of my classroom and down the stairs, grateful that our district didn’t require us to dress up for work. The farther I went down the mustard yellow hallway the more intensely the building shook. Every other classroom was dark and empty, which I was grateful for. 

As I got to the old lobby of the building where the main office and administration lived something that seemed to come from below me screamed in my ears. Reflexively , I covered my years and pushed outside, doubling over at the intensity of the sound. It was so angry, like my sister when you wake her up. I pushed myself up on my knees and then my feet. I needed to get away from the sound. I focused on the balls of my feet, pushing myself deep into the school parking lot. The sound faded with distance, but seemed to die all together. I turned back to the school and nearly fell to my knees with horror. The sky was a vortex of glowing green and purple clouds. Wind swept past me, nearly knocking me over, and seemed to follow the vortex of clouds. If I looked very closely, I could see something moving in the center of the vortex. I could catch only glimpses of it and every time I did my body tingled with fear. It was an abomination. To see it was to go a little crazy every time you did. I averted my eyes. I was crazy enough.

 I fixed my eyes on the building just in time to see five students dart through the entrance. I knew they were students because I knew them on sight. Dressed in black, they always stood out even among the emo and goth kids. Most students gave the original four a wide berth and now they were doing the same with Ethan. Rage hit me like a truck. Normally, I'm very good about controlling my emotions with students. I don’t yell often and I’ve never screamed at a student, but I was off the clock. 

“What the fuck did you do?” 

They spun a new fear forming in their eyes. “Ms. Mason!” Ethan cried. “I… I can explain.” The original four Derrick, Josh, Tony, and George, who now go by Death, Poison, Snake and Georgie, took a giant step away from Ethan, collectively sacrificing him to me. He did offer. 

“Explain this!” I pointed at the eldridge abomination above us. My hands were gesturing frantically. I think I was trying to keep myself from strangling him. “Are you kidding? No, actually. Go ahead. I’d looove to hear this.” I crossed my arms and waited. There was a heart beat of silence, as if he didn’t believe that I was actually going to let him explain. 

“I know it looks bad.” I must have made a god-awful face because he tried to course correct. “But it wasn’t my fault. Derrick told me to do it.” 

“That is not my name!” Derrick with the black hood and the cheap eyebrow piercing stepped toward us. 

“Shut up, Derrick!” I snapped. He flinched back into his group of friends. I turned back to Ethan. “Are you kidding? That’s first grade logic. What grade are you in?”

He looked down at his shoes. He never looked so young. “I’m a senior-”

“Are you? Because I don’t see any other seniors summoning a god do you?”

He looked at me confused. “It was supposed to be just a little demon.” 

“‘I only hit him once.’ This is where we’re at, Ethan!” My head throbbed with sleep and dehydration and the ringing of my own shouts in my head. I rubbed my face. “Where is it?” 

“Where’s what?”

“The thing you used to summon, the thing that’s trying to kill us.” I wasn’t even yelling anymore. I sounded disappointed, even to me.

Ethan looked confused. “What are you gonna-? How-”

“Ethan,” it was the most calm I had been since it started. “Do you want everyone you know and love to die?”

He looked bewildered, then shook his head.

“Then answer the question.” His eyes wilden, then he looked to the four. They reflected his nervous expression then looked at the school. Something seemed to die in Ethan as he turned back to me. “Its.. in the basement. I’m sorry.”

I inhaled deeply counting, then exhaled. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Go as far as you can away from her. Go home actually. Get some sleep. You boys have school tomorrow. Everything will be fine.” 

Ethan looked shocked. “But-”

“Get out of here before I write you up.” I brushed past them and headed back into the school building. 

We all did crazy things in college. Some teachers have embarrassing pictures of them on the internet doing a keg stand or have stories about “accidentally” setting the Greek house on fire, but my college life was a little different. I have a degree in Secondary Education, but my minor is in folklore. I thought that maybe one day I’d be a professor, but once you start digging into certain things you can’t stop. At some point it just becomes an all consuming need for knowledge and ability. Call it the ultimate hyperfixation.

Even as chaos raged outside, the school remained a fortress against the wind. It was oddly comforting. The basement was deep in the heart of the school. I had to get down several dubious looking flights of stairs before I came to the door. I could tell it was the place not by any sign, the place was pitch dark, but by the signature purple and green glow emanating from the cracks in the door. I opened the door with less caution than I should have. Walking through like I need to get some extra paper towels instead of banish an eldritch god. The room was small. The hot water heater sat in one corner, unmoving, but everything else was flying around in the vortex. Toilet paper, cleaning supplies, mops, brooms, in addition to the candles, spray paint, and book the boys used to summon the god all bathed in neon green and a glowing purple. The vortex flowed out of the hole they’d created with the spray paint. They are so cleaning that up. The wind was not nearly as strong here. I snapped the book out of the air and flipped through the pages trying to find the right one. 

“Ah, Ms. Mason,” a voice whispered from the hole. “It’s good to see you again. Adulthood suits you so well.” I ignored it. “Remember the good old days, when you and I would… collaborate.” He waited for a response. I gave none. “Oh, if only we could relive those good old days. It would make me so-”

“Ah-ha! Here it is.” I cleared my throat and recited the spell that meant to send him back down into his hole. 

The god growled angrily and screamed again. I covered my ears. I’m gonna need a hearing aid after all this. The hole closed slowly, its neon glow fading with it until I was left alone in the darkness. My body collapsed under the weight of my own exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than my bed and endless amounts of sleep. I forced myself to stand and march up the long expanse of stairs. It felt like an eternity, but I finally made it to the parking lot. I didn’t even bother collecting my stuff from my class. It would be there tomorrow. 

I approached my car ready to collapse in my seat. Maybe I could call in tomorrow. No, if I told the boys to go to school I should. Be a good example and all. I pulled open the door when I heard a voice. “Ms. Mason?” I whirled around. There’s no way I’m getting killed by some random punk now. Ethan flinched and raised his hands in surrender. 

“Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave. It felt wrong.” 

“Oh… where are your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends.” He sounded angry.

“Oh, well. You’re better off. In any case, it’s fine now. You should go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he turned to leave, looking dejected. Curiosity got the better of me. 

“Ethan,” he turned. “Honest time. What were you thinking?”

He flushed embarrassed. “I thought if I summoned a small demon. It could help me pass. I’m failing out of your class.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? I tutor kids all the time-”

“I don’t know! I was embarrassed. I’ve never needed help before and I just… I’m sorry.” 

I sighed. “Come to my class early in the morning. We’ll do our best to fix it.”

“Wait really! I kinda thought you were gonna skin me.”

“You fail senior year and I still might, but I’ll help you. It’s what I’m here for. Do you need a ride home?” 

He beamed with excitement. “I live next door. I promise I won't let you down. Thank you!” He ran off disappearing into the night. I can sleep on the weekend. The kids need me right now. I got in my car and drove home.

[thecagedbard]

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here.  There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings.  A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings:  Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 13,158/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter One

One Look and You're Hypnotized

The sounds of nature were a balm or it should have been to someone like Vesper.  Four days after the nautiloid’s crash onto that beach and she was still jumping at nearly every sound. She had found one of the women from the nautiloid lying not far from where she had landed, but she also found so many bodies along that same shoreline. Working together Vesper and Shadowheart had collected three more tadpole’d individuals to travel with them–though her encounter with one hadn’t been the simplest. 

Unfortunately it seemed as though the man who had held the knife to her throat had other things on his mind. The high elf, Astarion, rarely let her go off on her own. It began the night they had first made camp, stopping her as she went to relieve herself to question if this was where they were truly going to stay. But he’d offered to take the first watch, not something she’d thought to do. Vesper didn’t appreciate it when he woke her up only a few hours later for her watch but she’d gotten over it quickly.

What she couldn’t get over was how he seemed to want to follow her everywhere when she left camp to gather herbs. Astarion’s offer of protection had made her skin crawl and though none of the men who had assaulted her in the last ten years had been elves, she didn’t know what purpose he had in walking with her. 

Yet it was all he did. Walk either beside her or a few steps behind through the foliage, paused while she inspected mushrooms or dug up roots, and today he’d even held her basket while she attempted to extract a honeycomb without being stung. She’d be having nightmares over the buzzing later for certain.

A bird chirped overhead as Vesper returned victorious to the bright spot where she’d left the high elf, “Do you intend to help at all?” she asked as she took the jar that Gale had cleaned for her, expressly for honey, from the basket. Lazily Astarion lowered his head from where he basked in the sun’s heat and affixed her with a ruby stare, “I thought I was helping? I’m watching your back and I’ve held your basket for you. What more help would you require?” 

Vesper had only heard a tone like his once before. Someone from the higher city had come down to Rivington to warn their daughter against marrying a commoner and spoke with the same drawl that Astarion used as he had made comments on Vesper’s appearance and home. “If you’ve no intention of gathering anything or hunting to help feed everyone, why bother joining me?” she asked as she took the basket from his hooked forearm.  He followed her over the bridge and copied her movement as she lifted the neck of her shirt over her mouth and nose as they passed the bodies of adventurers and goblins alike, “We should do something about that…” she commented and looked back at him. 

She didn’t have to know him long to recognize a look of disgust. They weren’t going to do anything about the bodies. Vesper sighed and turned back to face the path she walked. They’d walked this same path the day before but stopped when they’d come across the dog, Scratch had been his name. So far there was no sign of the shaggy white dog, but the drow hoped her words got through to him. 

It was wild for her to have magic now. So many things had changed since the tadpole's insertion. While exploring they’d come across an old chapel, the bottom door of which Shadowheart had tried to break the handle too with no luck, and several grave robbers. When they attempted to intimidate Vesper, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale, the drow simply used the crashed spaceship and its dead monsters to make them flee.  Never before had there been power in her words. Lying came easy enough of course, but it was as though the halfling hung on her every word before she saw fear fill him and he ran off calling to the others with him.

“Careful!” Astarion warned as he grabbed onto her left arm and jerked her back. Vesper had been lost in her thoughts and nearly slipped into a creek. Her arm throbbed and she closed her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth together to not make any noise.  Noises meant more pain. Her eyes opened and she looked up at Astarion who cleared his throat as he dropped her arm just as quickly as he had grabbed it, “See… I’m being helpful! Why without me all of these weeds you’ve collected would have been lost to the waters…now they’re just back on the ground where you got them in the first place.” He chuckled airily and Vesper gave him a tight smile, “Thank you, Astarion…whatever would I do without you.” 

There was one major difference to being followed by Astarion than being followed by say Evard or even John, Issac’s brothers. Astarion sometimes laughed at her even when she wasn’t trying to be funny, “Oh darling,” he said through another giggle, “it’s about time you learned to appreciate my presence.” 

Stiffly Vesper got to her knees and picked everything up and placed it back in the basket. She tried to use her left arm to carry the herbs and winced, a hiss slipping through her teeth, “Are—Vesper are you hurt?” Astarion’s tone shifted and she looked up in surprise. Did he care if she was in pain? No. She shook her head, more to herself but Astarion seemed to take it as an answer to his question. “I’m fine,” she reiterated and placed her hand over her gray tunic. 

They’d managed to scrounge enough money together to buy Astarion a set of leather armor in the grove. He was close in combat with the goblins and had a couple of close calls with their blades and the worg’s teeth. It included all the money she had saved to make her escape, but with him and Shadowheart in front and her unsure how long it would take to find someone to extract the tadpoles, she could see a point in giving up those ten years of savings.

“We need to cross the stream,” she said as she got to her feet. Her leather trousers were filthy now, thankfully they could just be wiped down but she’d have to actually take off her tunic tonight. Astarion looked at the water before turning his eyes to her, “Must we? We’re getting far from camp at this point…”

Vesper lifted one auburn brow as she looked him over, “Then stay and I’ll go alone. Besides going towards that glade this is the next best way, Astarion. Return to camp if you want.” Her offer was sincere but Astarion rolled his eyes towards the sky as he watched her slip down to one of the rocks. The creek was deeper than she thought in some areas, so she was slow about getting across but she managed to walk across the mossy stones without losing her foot. She’d expected to see an exasperated aristocrat across the way but as she turned she was taken aback to find Astarion standing just a foot from her.

“What?” he asked as he watched her, his hands folding over his chest. Her head shook, wavy strands of mottled copper fell into her face, “Nothing.”

She turned away quickly and went straight for one of the flowers on the hill. It unnerved her how he could go from this surly cold man to one with an easy smile and a quick barb. Lately they’d been pointed at her. A chance meeting with the bard Alfira had revealed the magic she carried was bardic in nature, something most had to go to a special school for. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised–her brother Valere had a similar magic, though she’d never seen him use it to speak with animals or make someone fall prone while laughing. 

“Skeletons,” Vesper heard Astarion call out and looked up only to watch him walk past her to check a pile of bones. Since learning she might very well be a bard, Astarion had really laid into her over the bardic stereotypes. That was after he exhausted the old wives tales about redheads. Vesper was almost certain that the high elf didn’t even like her at this point. Yet as she placed another bundle of flowers for a healing potion in her basket, she stood and jumped as he’d silently made his way back to her side. 

Smugly he held up a ring, “And I will not be giving this to the wizard,” he said in a smarmy tone as he slipped in on her finger. “Gee,” Vesper replied as she watched him turn it to admire the stone, “I do hope it isn’t cursed…surely that’s not why it was with a skeleton…” The high elf’s eyes widened as he looked up from the ring, “You don’t think…” he quickly slipped the ring from his finger and Vesper watched his shoulders slump and his face relax. Laughter bubbled up in her chest as he turned but stopped when she saw the cold look in his eyes.

“It was only a joke…a warning,” she said quickly as she ducked her head. “We should be careful,” she continued with her head down, no longer meeting his gaze, “we’re both far from camp and neither of us are as studied as Gale. You don’t have to give it to him…perhaps just let him do that identifying thing…like with the harper’s necklace we found.” Vesper was rambling, stumbling over her words while she waited for the blow to come. When Astarion stepped behind her, she thought he would do worse than smack her face, but he simply walked to her other side, “What is that over there?”

Lifting her head she realized she was shaking as she pushed some of her fallen hair from her face and looked around the high elf. Down the creek someone stood within flames, “Oh gods,” she whispered, “are they…burning themselves alive?”  Vesper heard the flap of the band that held Astarion’s daggers to his hips as he began stalking forward, “We should go…”

“We should help them!” she hissed at him and froze again when he whipped his head around. Her reaction seemed to anger him just a tad more as his nostrils flared when she flinched back, “Stop that,” he ordered and Vesper tried to calm herself. “They could need our help,” she said again, Astarion rolled his eyes, “Stay behind me then. You’ve got the health potions.”

The elves approached the flame covered tiefling. Vesper used her tunic again to cover the lower half of her face as the smell of singed hair and flesh overtook the river and natural smells that had been only a few feet away.  The tiefling they neared cried out before Vesper leaned around Astarion, one hand resting on his stiffened elbow, “Are…are you alright?” she asked. The flames died down until the very tall tiefling turned and smiled bright, “Me? Yeah! I’m alright…say, I know you,” she said as she pointed to Vesper who was still slightly covered by Astarion, “you were on the nautiloid weren’t you?” Vesper looked up at Astarion, realizing that he was also looking down at her, should she be honest? Carefully she stepped around the high elf on the log and tilted her head slightly to the left, ignoring the throb the movement caused, she was just about to answer when a familiar pulsing feeling shifted through her mind.

Flames of Avernus she was now all too familiar with flashed through her mind as she ran through a battlefield. The axe swung wide as she took two imps from the sky before flames erupted around her and a rage Vesper had never known filled her very being. Back on the log, the drow’s chest was heaving with breath and she really took in the tiefling before her. One horn, flames of Avernus in her memories, her eyes lifted as she took a step back, her back colliding with Astarion’s front.

“You’re—” she lifted her left arm to point, her right was reaching back for her pitiful hand crossbow, but faltered as she winced in pain, “you’re the devil the Blade of Frontiers is hunting.” The tiefling’s cheerful smile was gone and she grimaced, “I had really hoped I’d lost him back there…listen, I don’t know what you’ve been told. But I’m not–” all three cried out as more images passed through their minds. The tiefling wasn’t only fighting against those that ran at her but she was burying her axe into those that fought beside her. The nautiloid broke through the sky and she ran for it—A way out! 

The thought was the last that flashed through her mind before Vesper lifted her head again and the tiefling was giving her a sympathetic—no piteous look, “That kid threw–” “You killed your allies on the battlefield,” Vesper quickly interjected.  All of them had seen something of her most recent past when their minds connected. Shadowheart had seen her gathering things quickly, she’d seen her in the midst of her escape. Astarion, well he hadn’t said what he had seen. And Wyll had spoken with her quietly about seeing Issac knock her to the ground before he left. It seemed this time this tiefling saw as she was shoved off the cliff by her own son. 

“I’m not what you think,” answered just as quickly as Vesper accused her. “I never wanted to fight for Zariel… I’m just… I’m damned good at what I do, that’s all. Please,” she said and Vesper searched her face, “you have to believe me.” There was a desperation in her voice that Vesper recognized. She’d once had that same desperation, pleading with a woman that she had never wanted to sleep with her husband—only the woman hadn’t been as kind as her. “I believe you,” the drow said as she nodded and the tiefling physically relaxed before she laughed in relief. 

“What?! You want to team up with some bloodstained killer?” Astarion shouted and Vesper looked around as his high-pitched voice seemed to reverberate before she turned and looked at him. Astarion glanced over her shoulder before he cleared his throat, “Because I’m perfectly fine with that…” His ruby eyes affixed with her own and they widened in a warning before he gave a tight smile to the woman over his shoulder.

“I’m Karlach,” the tiefling introduced herself, “I’m only bloodstained because Zariel’s has sent some of her little bastards after me. Say you didn’t meet any paladins of Tyr, did you? They’re not really followers of his…” Vesper turned and shook her head, “No, we haven’t. But you have to know… Wyll is in our camp…he’s got a tadpole too.” 

Karlach sucked on her teeth, “Then I suppose we should get on with this confrontation then. Not that I don’t think you two are capable of going up again a couple of phonies but,” she looked down at the drow, “you’re injured. Best we don’t test our luck against them with a man down.” 

“Aren’t you a little liar,” Astarion whispered in her ear and Vesper quickly ducked her head away from him. “Then follow us,” she said to Karlach who frowned as she looked between the elves, “I’ll do what I can to speak up for you with Wyll.” The tiefling gave her a soft smile, “That’s real nice of you…been a long time since I’ve met a nice person.”

As though to quell any lingering doubts of her identity, Karlach told them about herself. How before she was in hell she was a citizen of Baldur’s Gate. Vesper had laughed softly, “Isn’t it so weird how we’re all from there?” Karlach shrugged, “Wild to think I’d be around so many Baldurians after all this time.” It isn’t until they get near to camp and Astarion hurried ahead of them that Karlach holds out her axe and Vesper swallows hard. Did she make the wrong decision? Did she just get herself killed?

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Karlach started to say before she turned to look at the drow, “That elf… Astarion, he doesn’t hurt you does he?” The softly blowing wind could have knocked her over as her mouth hung open, “No! No, gods no,” her answer was accompanied by a relieved laugh, “he… I–” Vesper stammered twice before she looked up at Karlach and sighed, “I don’t have a great reaction to men. It isn’t anything Astarion’s done, he pulled at my arm to save me from falling into the creek earlier but he didn’t know it would aggravate an old injury is all.”

Karlach studied her for a moment before she lifted her axe back onto her shoulder, “Alright. Just…just checking. If he or anyone does give you problems though,” she said and Vesper nodded as she heard her name called from camp. “Through these rocks, Karlach,” the tiefling smiled as she followed behind the smaller elf.

The afternoon sun beat down on the little safe haven they had found on the far side of the nautiloid crash. It was a few miles walk to the grove but they were happy to not feel the ever judging gaze of Kagha and the druids looming over them like it did tiefling refugees. 

Vesper saw Astarion look back as she and Karlach entered camp and swore under her breath as she realized he was at Wyll’s tent. That traitor, she thought and it seemed the word went across the tadpole connection because he lifted one brow and shrugged as Wyll stepped around him. Rapier pulled from his hip the Blade of Frontiers rushed toward them, “Advocatus Diaboli!” he shouted as he flourished his blade.

Karlach seemed ready for him as she readied her axe, “Good to see you too, Blade.” Vesper looked between them and held her right arm out straight while the left lifted as much as it could, “Wyll! Wait…she isn’t–” The drow was unable to get her plea out as Karlach, Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart doubled over. 

Looking over the human’s shoulder she caught Astarion’s gaze as he watched with a hint of amusement on his face, “Thank you, Astarion.” Her voice was filled with as much venom as she could muster and he inclined his head in a mocking bow, “More than happy to help, love. It should make for decent entertainment…do try to not get skewered.”

Just as she was opening her mouth to curse him she saw Wyll shake his head, “Lies! Get away from her Vesper, don’t allow her to poison–” Karlach’s voice overlaid with his, “It isn’t! I’m telling you the truth, you can see it—Ah!” Vesper sighed as she waited for the visions to stop and rubbed her shoulder when she heard Astarion speak again, “Perhaps if you hadn’t lied to me about being hurt I wouldn’t feel the need to tattle on you. There’s a novel thought.” She cut her eyes at him and shook her head muttering, “Of course…”

She noticed how the high elf raked his eyes down her before he pushed off the tall rock tower and moved to his tent.

Wyll again stood straighter though his rapier wasn’t pointed directly at Karlach anymore, he seemed uncertain. Confused. Vesper saw the opportunity for what it was, “Wyll,” her voice soft, his one brown eye turned to look at her. He wanted to believe what he saw, “You know she’s only a tiefling…she isn’t a devil.”  The monster hunter grimaced, and his sword arm fell completely, “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me, Vesper.”

“I’m asking you,” she said as she raised both hands, palms up towards him, “to spare someone forced into the service of a devil. I’m asking the Blade of Frontiers to save someone…” His jaw and eyes clenched shut before he shook his head, “Damn it all!” he shouted as he threw his rapier to the side, “I’ve been deceived.” 

Vesper flinched at the outward display of Wyll’s anger but quickly collected herself as the others came up. “You’re a good man, Blade of Frontiers,” Karlach said over her shoulder and the drow finally stepped from between them, “You know,” the tiefling now looked toward the elf, “I’d hug you if it wouldn’t scorch your skin off.” Vesper nervously laughed and ducked her head, “Think nothing of it… I’ll just go clear some space so you can have your privacy.  Wyll?”  The human looked up and he nodded, “I am well, for now. Allies, Karlach?” he motioned toward the axe wielding tiefling and Vesper’s demeanor softened as they began speaking on friendlier terms. 

A masculine hand fell onto her left shoulder and Vesper stifled a groan as she looked up at Gale. The human wizard blanched as he lifted his arm, “You’re injured…we ran out of our last health potions… Shadowheart?” The secretive cleric wasn’t far behind, quietly scoping out the camp’s new addition when her name was called, “Come here,” she ordered the bard.

When Vesper approached the dark haired cleric hovered her hand over her shoulder, “I thought you promised to be vigilant? To not get into any fights while it was only the two of you?” Relief flooded through her neck and shoulder and Vesper sighed heavily, “I got lost in thought… was nearly swept away by the river,” it was only a partial lie. No river, just the creek, but it wasn’t as though the cleric would question Astarion about it. It didn’t seem like Shadowheart had much to do with anyone in camp besides Vesper at times, “Astarion caught me before I could fully go in. It’s just an old, aggravated injury.” 

The cleric’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before she flicked her chained braid over her shoulder, “I thought this was your first adventure?” The drow nodded, “It is…there are far more ways to collect injuries than just adventuring.” Her answer seemed to satisfy the cleric as Shadowheart nodded, “Very well. If it causes more issues in the morning let me know…do you need a hand with your herbs?” 

“No,” she replied and gingerly tested her left arm before lifting the basket a little higher, “I just need to clean them and prep them, then they’ll be ready for potion making.”

With a resolute nod Shadowheart looked over the bard’s shoulder, “Perhaps I should go make the acquaintance of our new ally… I’m just not certain where she’ll stay.” Vesper nodded towards the more tarp-like of the tents they had, “She can have that one.” Red cloth with no walls, it wasn’t the nicest of the tents they had in camp but it provided shade when needed. Shadowheart eyed the drow before raising one of her brows, “That’s yours.”

Vesper shrugged, “Doesn’t have to be. It can be Karlach’s… I don’t mind sleeping by the fire. It’s warmer.” The secretive cleric shook her head before pressing past her while Vesper settled on one of the stumps near the fire.  She was separating her gatherings when she felt fingers touch her shoulder and looked up. Gale had begun a habit of small touches before he spoke, at least toward Vesper, beginning after their second night in camp when she’d nearly panicked as he’d grabbed her elbow to get her attention. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, his smile brightening as she held up a jar of honeycomb, “Ah, delightful. You know, back in Waterdeep there’s an old couple who nurture bees. Not druids, no, just…fans of our world's greatest pollinators.” He slipped by her as she continued to sort what would need to be a poultice and what would be crushed to stand by the pot he’d been cooking in. “They say that by feeding children spoons of locally sourced honey can prevent them from gaining allergies, at least toward the local fauna. Now, what does that mean if they ever decide to become world travelers or adventurers…well I guess we’re going to learn aren’t we?” Gale often did this, picked at small tidbits of information and dumped some indiscriminate knowledge on the rest of them. 

Vesper thought it was charming. The others…not so much. But this time her head popped up, “What?” she asked as clear confusion drew her brows together. “I–I just, my mother was a believer in that old wives' tale, the honey. While this isn’t my first foray into the wilds, it is by far the farthest I’ve been from my local…ecosystem I would call it. What I mean to say is, perhaps we will test the limits of the tale–never mind,” he shook his head and waved off the thought. Sitting back, Vesper studied the wizard as he turned toward his pot of stewing meat, “I haven’t collected any, but if you feel a sneezing fit coming I can always keep an eye out for stinging nettle.” 

Gale perked up with a grin, “That would indeed be most welcome.” 

“I could take the second watch,” Karlach offered as she passed the clay plate to Vesper, “It’s really the least I can do since you’re giving up your tent. Which, by the way, thank you again…”  The tiefling had tried to argue with Vesper over the tent, but anytime she moved her stuff and walked away to have a conversation or relieve herself, Vesper kept throwing her axe and the upper half of her ‘armor’ into the tent. “Karlach,” Vesper was calm as she tilted her head and looked at the tiefling, for some reason the barbarian blinked several times and sighed in defeat already, “when was the last night you slept without having to look over your shoulder?”

“Ten years in Avernus, right? Isn’t that what she said?” Vesper turned to look at Wyll who sported a smirk as he nodded, “Yeah, I think you’ve more than earned a night of uninterrupted sleep.” The same argument could have been made for Vesper as well but they didn’t know her past. When asked about her discomfort with the males in camp she waved it off or changed the subject. Why did she flinch when people got angry? Why did Astarion’s yelling make her freeze more than Kagha’s threats? 

She never gave them real answers. No one in this group gave real answers to any questions delving into their pasts. Gale had asked her to give up a magical ring they’d found after saving a boy from a group of harpies and then absorbed the damned thing while not giving a full answer. Shadowheart had things she didn’t want people to press about, so Vesper didn’t press. And they didn’t press her either. 

It was after dinner when the discussion of watch happened. Vesper had offered to clean the dishes after another, mostly meat, meal was had—and she was more than grateful to share her portion with the tiefling–when Astarion offered to take first watch and volunteered her for second again. 

She could have protested. Could have confessed that she didn’t know how to meditate like other elves. Only it worried her that her confession would only be a cause for new questions, and she just wasn’t sure how open Karlach would be. No, it was safer to just go with the status quo. 

Be good. Be compliant. Be obedient. 

The words that had gotten her through the last ten years flashed through her mind. It’s not like the high elf was asking much of her. Just to watch over the camp and be certain nothing came to kill them while everyone slept. No big deal.

No pressure or anything.

Perhaps that was why it was always so difficult for her to focus. It was difficult to hear her sister’s instructions as she settled on the hard ground that night. The fire crackled beside her and she could hear Astarion walking around before he settled on a bedroll near hers, the cracking of a book spine. She almost asked him what he was reading, but it’d likely make him angry that she was wasting her resting time.

Instead, she focused on the sounds around her. The feeling of the wind as it blew across her. She turned onto her side, tucking her arm under her head. The fire was warm despite the cool summer evening. A page turned. Exhaustion was seeping into her bones as everything became heavier. Astarion mumbled to himself as he turned another page.

Silence.

There on the ground her breathing picked up its intensity. Silence wasn’t good for her. When things were quiet it meant something bad was coming, no crickets singing, no birds trilling, there was a predator around. Her head turned as she rolled back onto her back. They were coming. He was coming.  As the world around her stilled she froze before she gasped for air and sat up suddenly, her head smashing into one that was waiting just above her.

“Shit!” It was a male voice and Vesper struggled to open her eyes, her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to untangle herself from her blankets. “Astarion?!” she gasped out through heavy breaths and the high elf sat back on his heels with a hand over his mouth. Her head burned as the wind blew and she lifted her hand and swiped her fingers, hissing as her fingers touched a small cut on her forehead, bringing them back to her eye line. Blood. 

“Did you–did you cut me?” she asked with wide, wild eyes. “What? No!” he countered and stared at her forehead as she felt more liquid drip from the cut. His breathing was labored as he stared and slowly his hand lowered. In the light of the fire Vesper saw something…something different about him. No, no, she shook her head and rubbed at her eyes with the back of her fist, it had to be a trick of the light. “What were you doing?” she asked, there had to be some reason he loomed over her close enough for them both to be injured.

Astarion stood and shook out his shirt haughtily, “I was simply trying to wake you. It’s your shift,” he looked her over again, she noticed how his eyes hovered just above meeting her eyes. The high elf swallowed hard, “You assaulted me,” he said, and his hand lifted to his jaw again, “why?” 

With a heavy sigh, Vesper stood and pulled her threadbare blanket over her shoulders, “Don’t worry. None of my common blood got on you…” when he continued to watch her through narrowed eyes her shoulders pulled together as much as they could, “It was just a nightmare. I wouldn’t have hit you had you not been so close.”

The drow turned to look around the camp. Karlach was the closest to the fire but was still loudly snoring. When she turned to look back at Astarion she sighed again, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He lifted a brow before nodding once, “Good. I’m going to rest.” He rubbed his jaw again before turning away. Astarion’s red tent was close to the fire, when he put it up he claimed he wanted to be close by for warmth, though she’d not seen him get close to the fire since they’d set up here by the river.

There was an overhang just behind his tent that made a decent look-out. She was just about to start climbing her way up when she heard Astarion clear his throat, “For your head.” He swiped his thumb across her forehead with one hand while the other pushed a small vial of healing potion into her hands. “I thought we were out?” she asked as she looked up at him, surprised to see when the thumb he used to wipe her blood was leaving his mouth.

No. No, she had hit her head, she had to be seeing things. 

“You all ran out…no one said I had to share my resources with the rest of you,” he said calmly before nudging her hand, “drink up, pet.” Vesper wanted to protest the pet name but she’d not refused an order in eight years and Astarion’s order was to drink the potion. He watched as she dutifully drank the vial dry and soundlessly turned to reenter his tent.

Of the strange interactions she’d had with the high elf, tonight’s interlude had to top the list. 

Settling onto the rocky outcropping Vesper replayed the events over in her head. Had she seen actual fangs in Astarion’s mouth? Was he the vampire who killed that boar the other day? She shook her head. What a ridiculous thought! Vampires couldn’t walk around in the daylight and after all her days wandering the woods, she could certainly say… Astarion loved being in the sun. Besides, if the high elf was a vampire, why would he admit that the boar was killed by one?

It had to be her imagination running away with her. Rubbing her eyes again, Vesper yawned and began her watch.

“Fire!”

They all looked around, but Vesper shouted as she was grabbed from behind, Gale began hitting at her back and the drow screamed while she tugged to get away from the wizard while he shouted at her, “You! Vesper, you are on fire!” She felt the heat now just as he finished getting the words out of his mouth. A portion of the back half of her tunic was in his hand and she struggled to get out of the rest fast enough before she was engulfed in the flames. 

Hands, two pairs, helped pull it off of her and each caught a bit of her leather collar as they tugged. Another yelp ripped from her throat as she got away from both the fire and their hands, falling onto the ground. “On your front,” Shadowheart commanded and Vesper turned to allow the cleric to heal her back. 

They had barely escaped the toll-house before Karlach’s rage literally erupted from her skin. The tiefling had been so careful since they’d met the day before to keep from touching anyone. Yet as her anger consumed her she’d elbowed Vesper in the back after yelling for them to get out.

Down on the ground she was unsure if she’d been caught by the flames as the collar’s stitching throbbed through her skin.  “Gods above,” she heard Shadowheart whisper and suddenly Vesper recalled the last time she’d been an evening entertainment for Issac’s company. The bruises likely weren’t gone and Vesper pushed as quickly as she could to climb to her feet. Turning quickly she realized both Gale and Wyll weren’t looking in her direction, the wizard’s gaze downcast while the monster hunter seemed intent on keeping his attention on the toll-house.

It was Astarion and Shadowheart who gaped at her and Vesper looked down at the muddled bruising on her arms and chest. She wasn’t aware of what her back looked like, “I’m fine.” She lied through her teeth as she smiled brightly at the two of them.

“A little more cheeriness and I might believe that,” Astarion said as he stepped forward. His finger lifted to touch the collar that surrounded her neck and shoulders, but Vesper stepped away from him, “Don’t,” she lowered her eyes and closed her eyes. 

“Step back, Astarion,” Shadowheart said as she put herself between the two elves, “Clearly she needs a healer.” The cleric turned and Vesper lifted her eyes, “I’m fine, Shadowheart. Best to leave your focus elsewhere,” the cleric eyed her suspiciously but as her eyes lingered on the collar around her neck she sighed with a frustrated huff, “Fine. Enjoy your pain then.” 

A whooping voice got all of their attention as Karlach jumped down the staircase leading from the building she’d left engulfed in flame. Astarion let out a little whine, “So much for looking for money…” Gale glanced back, Vesper caught his eye for a split second before he looked at Astarion, “Fire can be dealt with. I have a spell that could easily remedy this…display. Feeling better, Karlach?” It seemed when he was uncomfortable, Gale was less chatty.  It was nice to know that it was possible for him to not fill the vacancy of sound with his own voice, but Vesper wasn’t certain how she felt being the one to make him so uncomfortable. 

The bard crossed her arms over her chest as best she could while Karlach spoke to the others. Vesper had hoped to keep her bruises a secret from the rest of them, she’d been healed more than once by Shadowheart but considering they hadn’t disappeared had to mean that her healing was targeted to what she knew.

Karlach sounded shocked, “Holy shit…what fiend got a hold of you, Ves?” A copper head popped up and Vesper shook her head, “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Wyll cleared his throat and gestured to the tiefling, “It seems even a small nudge can set thinning fabric aflame.” Karlach inhaled sharply, “I did that?” Astarion shook his head, “No, clearly we don’t know much about our dear bard’s bedroom habits. You just supplied us with the hot new gossip of camp.” Vesper’s eyes found the ground again as they stung and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. 

They didn’t know. It was fine, they could talk. Talk is mostly harmless.

She heard Astarion hiss, “What?” and a soft admonishment before Gale said to her, “Perhaps we’ll have a peek inside, we’ll see if we can find you something more comfortable to wear.” Lifting her gaze she almost turned away again, there was pity in the human wizard’s eyes and she hated it. Glancing at the others, Shadowheart was still facing the others–Vesper realized that the cleric seemed to be blocking their view of her; Karlach was stepping closer and her eyes were on the bruises that Vesper couldn’t hide anymore; Wyll still had his back turned; but Astarion was looking directly at her. She expected disgust in his eyes but he just looked…bored, “It isn’t clothing she needs, it’s armor. Or have we forgotten she’d agreed to us saving this druid, Halsin?” 

“We haven’t got money for armor,” Vesper pursed her lips the moment the words were out of her mouth. Astarion rolled his eyes, “Darling there are other ways of getting what you need,” he wiggled his fingers and looked toward the smoking building, “though if it’s money we need…come Gale…put the fires out.”

The boys left to search the toll-house and Shadowheart turned to look at her, “Arms.” Vesper was extending her arms toward the cleric all while protesting, “Really, Shadowheart, there’s no need to waste your healing powers on this. They’re old, almost gone…” Karlach’s head tilted to one side quickly before she shook her head, “This is why you don’t like men then…”

Vesper lifted her gaze to the tiefling who calmly met her stare, but it was Shadowheart who spoke, “No matter your walk in life, this is far too many bruises for pleasure.” Her arms were turned over in the cleric's hands and her calloused fingers ran over a number of silvery scars, “Is any of this a detriment to you moving? Fighting?”

“No,” the bard answered quickly, “I’ve carried children while looking worse than this.” Her voice was soft as she finished her answer. It wasn’t that her pride was hurt. She just didn’t like the pity. Pity did nothing for her. Pity didn’t change her last ten years.

“Anything under the collar?” Shadowheart asked as she reached for the edge. Vesper stepped away from her, “Don’t,” she choked out and shook her head, “I’m fine, Shadowheart. Really… I’m not burned, there’s nothing to heal. Please,” she lifted her gaze to the half elf, “just leave me be.”

Shadowheart sighed heavily, and nodded, “Fine. If you insist. I’ll go see if I can help them inside…maybe one of those fake paladins has a shirt that isn’t too singed.” She was turning just as Astarion was making his way back out of the building, a thick leather tunic in his hands, “Arms up, Vesper, we managed to salvage you some armor.”

“I can’t…” she said as she eyed the solid piece. Leather was pliable, yes, but this was a similar make to the kind they had purchased from the druids for Astarion. It had to go over the head and with her collar there was no way she’d be able to get it on. Astarion frowned as he looked at her, “Why not? The collar? Darling we’re in the middle of nowhere, you can’t get in trouble for taking it off,” he was half bent as he mockingly whispered the last part. 

Violet colored her cheeks and she shook her head, “I just can’t!” It was the first time she’d gotten loud with them. The first time her voice had been raised in anger in quite a while. She couldn’t tell them yet. Not yet.

Astarion scoffed and threw the armor at her feet, “Darling if it’s chafing that you’re worried about, believe me when I say that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. Especially coming from some elven prostitute who didn’t even change out of her uniform.”

“Astarion!” Shadowheart shouted his name and the high elf turned to look at her. Vesper shook her head as she walked away, “Wait!” Karlach yelled after her as she followed, “It isn’t safe to be alone…gnolls travel in packs.” They were halfway across the bridge when Vesper finally stopped. She was blocked from view by the upturned cart on the cobblestone and didn’t fear anyone seeing her wipe her eyes.

“Don’t let what he said get to you,” Karlach said as she sat down on the edge of the bridge, “if you need help getting armor on we can find a way.  Shadowheart seems like a good egg, she won’t mind helping I’m sure.”  

Coldly the bard laughed and shook her head, “I don’t know why his words hurt. It’s hardly the worst I’ve ever heard…”

Scraping gravel alerted Vesper and Karlach to someone approaching, one quick glance told her it was the cleric, “Is it the arm I healed last night that gives you problems? We can work together to get this on, though it’ll be difficult to do so every day. You may have to sleep in it from time to–”

“It isn’t just my arm,” Vesper relented and sighed as she turned to sit beside Karlach. The tiefling scooted a few inches away with a tight smile. Shadowheart frowned and turned the armor over in her hands, “What is it then? There’s nothing wrong with the armor…”

“No, you’re right…but it's the collar I wear, I cannot take it off and I cannot lift my arms because of it.”

Shadowheart sighed heavily, her face becoming a mirror of Astarion’s annoyance, “Then we can take it off.” Vesper shook her head as she groaned in frustration, “It isn’t that easy.  Look, if I could just find armor similar to Wyll’s that I put on like a coat. We can sell that though, maybe make a trade of some sort with Dammon at the grove.”

Shadowheart tossed the leather armor on the cart with a frustrated sigh, “Very well. I’m going to make sure they collect enough goods and gold to trade with then. Make certain Astarion doesn’t slip anything into his pockets.”

When it was just them, Karlach picked up a rock and flung it, “So, Vesper is kind of a weird name for an elf…” The bard frowned before she looked to her side at the tiefling, “What?” she said through a confused laugh.

“It’s pretty! It is, but, like… Astarion, it's almost musical innit? It sounds exotic almost, but Vesper…you sound like you would have grown up down the street from me in Baldur’s Gate,” Karlach explained, and her smile eased as Vesper’s tension eased. 

“The village I grew up in didn’t have many elves, so we, my siblings and I, were given more human sounding ones to be called publicly,” she explained while shaking her head. Karlach’s mouth pulled to one side, “Nah, I think you’re hiding something. You’re a world-class criminal and those bruises are from your latest heist. ‘Vesper’ is a cover… don’t worry,” she winked at the bard, “I’ll keep your secret.”

Vesper laughed again as she stared at Karlach, “You know what?” she said as she quieted, “If it keeps me from having to talk about my last ten years… I’ll take it.” Karlach’s smile faltered for just a second before she grinned again.

After effectively cleaning out the toll house they had several hundred gold. Astarion seemingly stuck his foot back in his mouth when he mentioned if it wasn’t enough then Vesper should just flirt with the halfling tradesman or the tiefling for a discount. Suddenly she wasn’t coming anywhere near him. 

Vesper had thought they were coming to a somewhat understanding companionship. Teasing remarks but harmless. Perhaps he thought these were harmless remarks. That had to be it. He didn’t know the truth of her past. 

When they reentered the blighted village, Vesper entered the little apothecary shop, looking for any left-behind dried ingredients. This place was filled with them. There were even abandoned potions on the counter.  

She lifted a book and flicked through the pages before turning it over and shaking it, sometimes the books had scrolls hidden within the pages. Gale had explained to her that he could inscribe his spell book with those scrolls.

Wyll, in his own exploration of the shop, had found a cellar while she searched the upstairs. They had been just about to head down when a shirt was pulled over her head. It was dirty and a little ratty but it did cover her better than the leather shirt she wore. Turning she caught Astarion as he silently turned his head away and pushed past her to follow Wyll down into the cellar.

It was awkward to pull her arms through and there was the tugging of the threads against her skin but eventually, she did manage to get both arms through the holes. 

They had found a lever that led to a more secretive area and a magic mirror.  

When Astarion tried his hand at the mirror he got annoyed and threatened to smash it, but the glass disappeared. Vesper found it odd that she hadn’t even seen a shadow of the rogue within the reflective silver glass.

In this secret cellar, there were even more alchemy ingredients and she busied herself as she gathered.

“Gale…what’s a quasit?” asked Shadowheart at one point as she held up a scroll. The wizard, who had been quietly tailing behind the drow turned and approached her to read the scroll, “A familiar…seems like an interesting familiar to have. I’ll inscribe this tonight, perhaps we can learn what all this is from the little devil. Before Wyll destroys it of course.” Wyll lifted his chin as he pursed his lips and shook his head, “The Blade of Frontiers does not kill familiars,” he said nobly, before he grinned and shrugged, “it wouldn’t count, they can just be resummoned.” 

They all continued searching the cellar, Gale finding a pair of bracers in a chest that he tucked away for later. Vesper wondered if he planned on using or consuming them. It was Astarion crouched at an iron gate that caught her attention though. He was close to the keyhole picking the lock, “What are you doing?” she asked a bit hesitantly. He barely spared her a glance before answering, “There’s a book back there. Could be something useful…or something expensive,” the lock clicked, “why else would someone hide it behind all of this.”

He stood to open the gate, careful as he took the first few steps in. Vesper walked up to him to peek her head in but he held up a hand, “Traps…I’d wager those,” he pointed to the two stone statues that were covered in cobwebs and dust, “will begin spitting out fireballs if this,” he pointed to the plate that was beneath a book, “is disturbed. Give me just a–” he stopped talking as he bent over the table pulling a different tool kit from the pocket of his armor.

The others were gathering behind her, each peeking through to watch the rogue at work.

“Vesper,” the sound of Wyll’s voice being so close made the drow jump and she whipped around to face the Blade as he winced, “sorry,” he whispered before clearing his throat, “most bards I know don’t move so quietly. They’ve all been singing or strumming–playing their instrument…but you don’t seem to have one...”  

Vesper chuckled, “Mine was recently broken…not that I had much practice–” “Shh!” She winced when Astarion shushed them; she stepped away from the door with Wyll, “Why?”

Wyll shook his head, “Just curiosity, I suppose. We found a lute in the toll house…if you’d like it? I left it outside for the goblins but we could–” she nodded and Wyll’s smile perked up as he spoke again, “I’ll go grab it then. It’s just outside the village near that…uhm,” he blushed, “barn.” His eyes widened for a moment as if to convey how uncomfortable the sounds coming from that barn had been. 

“Wait–” she grabbed him as he turned, “don’t worry about it if you’ve left it that far behind. I don’t need one, an instrument, I mean.” Wyll paused and looked back, “I may be being a bit selfish…it’s possible that tonight or in the coming nights there will be a reckoning over Karlach still being alive. I was hoping that if you played it could keep my mind off of it…or keep me–” he trailed off as he swallowed hard and looked away from her eyes. “I was hoping for something to look forward to,” he finally admitted with a closed lip smile. Vesper’s head tilted, “A reckoning? Should we be concerned?” 

Wyll shook his head, “You’re in no danger, I swear it. No one besides myself is in any danger…”

The others were talking again and Vesper turned her head to look back, “We’ll go get it in a bit before we head back to camp. I just don’t want the goblins out there getting any ideas…” While they knew that these creatures were bowing to the Absolute, she didn’t trust that they wouldn’t go to their baser nature and try to kill the human in front of her. “Let’s not split up, okay? Isn’t it safer to be together?” she asked and Wyll chuckled and nodded, “You’re right,” he said. 

“Something,” Astarion’s voice was raised as he flipped the book he’d finally gotten over in his hands, “goes in this book…I’d like to find it.”

“Uh, please don’t open the creepy book….it’s got a face,” whined Karlach as she looked over his shoulder.

Astarion giggled softly as his fingers stroked the leather cover, “Imagine the things it could tell us.”

With one last look around the hidden cellar, they left both the cellar and the building. They started for the building right next to it, but Gale held up his arms and began backing away, “Ogres,” was all he had to say for the others to back away from the building and avoid it. Instead, they crossed the meager street to one of the other buildings. Inside they found a key, but there was nothing to unlock inside the building, “There was a door outside…another shop perhaps?” surmised the wizard. Vesper tried to ask the goblin but she’d only been waved off and simply returned to the others’ side.

In the basement, they found…things. A bellow and furnace. Astarion found another trapped chest and sent Vesper up the ladder to check the other chest up on the landing. It had been quite a while since she had used a lock picking set, so Astarion had both disabled the trap and picked the lock off his chest before she even finished picking her lock, but she did get it. A smile bloomed across her face as she opened the lid, “Weird…there’s just a bit of metal and a couple of letters.” 

The metal had a sulfuric smell to it and though it wasn’t especially large it had a hefty weight to it. Years of malnutrition had kept the bard weakened so she had to implore Karlach for help. When the tiefling looked over into the chest she laughed, “This is infernal metal! I can use this for my engine! Now I just need a mechanic.”

“Infernal mechanic?” asked Wyll, he knit his brows together before he nodded, “I think I know of one we can get to easily.” “Really?” excitedly Karlach turned to look down to the human. Wyll nodded again, “Dammon in the Druid’s Grove…as long as Kagha hasn’t completed her damned ritual we should be able to ask him if he can at least.” Karlach looked at all of them, “I hate to ask for another favor…”

“We’ll get back there,” Astarion held up a placating hand without conferring with the others, “if it’ll keep you from burning the rest of us up, I mean.” He looked past the tiefling to the still kneeling drow, “What about those letters? Does it say why this blacksmith has infernal iron?”

Vesper looked at the opened letters and shrugged before tossing them down. Astarion passed off the scroll he was holding to Wyll as he caught the two to look them over.

“He made a deal of some kind it seems…” the rogue said as he turned the letter over in his hands. Shadowheart was wandering the workshop when she paused, “There’s a breeze behind this wall…” the others turned to look at her.

“Maybe there’s a tunnel…it could lead to some secret entrance to the goblin camp?” she shrugged and looked at the wall again, “I’m just not sure how we get it down.”

Wyll stepped toward the cleric, “May I?” Shadowheart turned to look at him, “I don’t see a hammer in your hands…” He shook his head, “No, I’ve found that a well-placed eldritch blast can destroy walls sometimes. Step away,” he gave the warning and waited for the half-elf to back away before lifting his hands and firing two eldritch blasts in quick succession.

“Bravo, Wyll,” said Shadowheart as she watched the wall fall. “Who knew you had use beyond a pretty face,” her head tilted teasingly as she stepped forward to peek through the wall. Karlach and Vesper had climbed down at this point and they with Gale and Astarion joined the other two as they ventured past the wall.

Spiders. 

It just had to be spiders. And not your run-of-the-mill, cause-a-heart attack when it runs down your arm kind either. These were bigger than Vesper and they could teleport. The other little creatures might have scared her more, when one of them came running at her, its arms waving in the air as it moved, she actually yelped and ran from it while Karlach jumped in its way and buried her axe into it.

Besides a few poisoned burns, they were all okay. Gale even thanked Vesper as he downed one of the small healing potions she had been making for them since she found the little alchemy kit. “Put these on,” said Astarion as he held out a pair of boots to the bard. Vesper lifted her gaze from the diagram on the board and looked at the rogue, “Why?” He shrugged, “They’re better than what you’re wearing and the rest of us have decent footwear. Besides Karlach, but I don’t think they’d fit our fiery friend.”

So she pulled the boots on, hopping along as she tried to keep up with the others. It was odd, they fit fine but as she walked it felt like they molded not only to her leg but to her feet, her steps felt lighter than before. “Are these,” she stepped up to Astarion’s side, “magical boots?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted as he looked down at them, “but if they are, keep them from Gale. He doesn’t need to eat every magical item we come across.” Astarion’s hand came up as they rounded a corner and he looked at Vesper before covering her mouth as he watched her eyes land on the gigantic spider across the way. “Don’t. Scream,” he warned her and waited for her to nod before he removed his hand. 

“We probably shouldn’t be here,” whispered Karlach as she crept closer, but Astarion was already sneaking towards the edge. Something caught his eye and unfortunately, it was right beneath the big web weaver herself. 

They watched the white headed rogue as he looked around and assessed the situation. He then kept an eye on the big spider as he began to sneak across the webbed bridge, he threw one look over his shoulder and waved to the others.

“He must have seen something useful, right?” asked Gale before he crouched, grunting as he muttered about his knees before following after the rogue.

Vesper followed, knowing the others were just behind her.

Things are never easy though, they never can be. While they crossed the webbed bridge Gale got stuck. They managed to get him unstuck without the spider noticing, but then came the chittering and Vesper turned to see Shadowheart jerking her foot in the webs, swearing to herself.

Another fight with spiders ensued. Little ones were hatched as the big one let out its awful screech. Arrows, spells, and Karlach’s axe were used to fight but it didn’t matter for Vesper. She’d made it to a second bridge only to be surrounded by the little baby spiders with their extra potent venom and she misjudged where the edge of the webbing was. 

Her feet never got caught on the web, not like the others. Something about these boots was good about keeping her from getting enwebbed, but that was also a bad thing; as she stepped backward trying to dodge being bitten she jumped too far back and felt a familiar sensation. Falling, she was falling.

As she fell backward she was just barely able to make eye contact with Astarion who was picking up some glowing gem before she was swallowed by some pit in the center of the area.

For a moment she thought she heard her name being yelled. 

There wasn’t going to be a nautiloid to save her this time. Wherever she was falling to was it. Her freedom was over. Closing her eyes she said a prayer to Elistaree and accepted her fate.

What she didn’t expect was for two hands to grab onto her and turn so she was pressed against a hardened surface, or for Astarion to cast a spell that slowed their fall. Opening her eyes she realized the surface she was being held to was his chest and she lifted her head, the wind was blowing through his curls, “You didn’t even scream,” he said as he looked at her, his eyes wide as he tried his best to turn them mid-air so they would land on their feet.

“Where are we going to land?” she asked, her hands now gripping his armor and one of his arms, he shook his head before answering, “I don’t know. Be prepared for anything.”

The spell he cast changed their falling to floating but she didn’t release the high elf. Eventually, the tunnel they were falling through came to an end, the darkness giving way to odd lights of different colors splattered around their surroundings. When their feet finally touched solid ground, Astarion pushed her down so they were both crouched, “You move quietly, and don’t go far from me.” She nodded and eyed him before looking around, “Were you lying before?” His eyes narrowed as he shook his head questioningly, “It’s just–” she started to say before a noise behind her had her turning.

A Minotaur.

She was nearly about to scream when Astarion’s hand covered her mouth again, “Don’t.” he said into her ear before he took her wrist and began shuffling in the other direction just doing his best to not be perceived by the creature. Of course, it had to turn as they tried to round the corner. “Run!” the rogue shouted as he stood to his full height and began pulling her with him.

Fear made her blood pump into her ears. She couldn’t hear the creature as it roared but she could feel the ground rumble as the minotaur tried to charge after them. Or was that the one they were running toward as it ran towards a building. Astarion was running right behind it before he skidded to a halt as bright white lights began hitting it. The minotaur tried to bash into the gates but it died to the outpost's magical defenses, “Shit…” he began to look around and then behind him, “you’ve got a spell that changes your appearance.” He said as he looked at her, she nodded, “Small, be small!”

Both of them cast at the same time, changing themselves from elves to a gnome and halfling Astarion ran for the small space, he climbed through quickly and Vesper followed screaming as the Minotaur smashed into the wall just behind them, “Keep crawling!” she heard Astarion shout and she kept following him, doing her best to keep her concentration on the spell. The disguise spell she used was one she’d been playing with once she realized she could use it. 

There was a bend in the tunnel the two were crawling through that exited into the outpost. As soon as he was out of the crawlspace Astarion ended his disguise and dusted himself off. He was breathing hard as he collapsed on one of the benches as she pulled herself through.

“Where are we?” she asked as she stood up to her halfling height. Astarion looked over at her and his eyes grew round, “Please drop the spell…hearing your voice out of that is…disturbing.” Vesper dropped her concentration and dusted herself off, her left shoulder was aching now, while crawling several of the tunnel’s rocks had smacked into her arms as she crawled.

She started walking around the space, she found the gate where the dead minotaur lay and looked out to see two others now stalking the area where they had disappeared. “There’s two!” she called back to Astarion as she stepped back to look at him, her eyes were wide, fear once again coursing through her. How many times had she been close to death now?

“You look nearly dead,” Astarion said as he looked at her. He didn’t look much better if she thought about it. He was covered in blood from fighting those false paladins and now they were both covered in dirt and dust. But she didn’t want to tell him that.

“I’m fine,” she said instead as she slung her backpack off her shoulders, digging through it, she found the large potion that the strange lady in the grove had given her. She set the bag on the table in front of Astarion before offering it to him, “You got hit more than I did…you probably need it more.” He looked at the potion before shaking his head, “What I need is a drink.” His eyes paused on her before he looked away again, “You were saying something earlier, about me ‘lying?’”

Vesper’s cheeks flushed as she recorked the potion bottle and placed it back into her bag pulling out a smaller one. “You told me that you were a magistrate back in the city,” she said matter-of-factly as she uncorked the smaller bottle and turned it up. Once she swallowed she looked at Astarion again before lowering her eyes toward his hands, “I don’t think you were being honest.”

“I was,” he said, “it’s been a while since I’ve been a magistrate, but I did work for the courts in Baldur’s Gate.” He stood up and stepped toward her, “You weren’t lying about never having been on an adventure. Neither have I.” She nodded as her head tilted, “You’ve told me that…but how are you so good at–” “Killing?” he asked as he gave a small tug on her bag. She released the canvas she’d been holding onto and let him pilfer through it. 

“I have to do something now that I’m no longer a magistrate,” he found the bag of rations she carried and pulled out some of the fresh berries she had picked the day before. He popped a few into his mouth before offering others to her, “We’ll rest and then find our way out of here. I’m out of spells after that disguise, at least until morning.” Vesper nodded, she too was out of magic if she had to be honest. 

When he walked out of the area the drow felt her knees give out and she sat down heavily on the other bench at the table. She had taken the offered berries and was now looking through her rations bag. Astarion, for all his sneaking around, didn’t carry a bag as she did. They’d have to share anything that she had. 

Checking her rations she also held up her canteen, it was about half full. It might be enough if they only took a mouthful at a time. Depending on how long they stayed down here at least. She coughed and realized how dry her mouth was already, grimacing she twisted the lid off her canteen and turned it up taking just enough to wet her mouth and throat before closing it. She’d dealt with rationing food before. Issac often forgot to leave money behind when he used to be gone for days at a time, but at least then she’d had water to fill her belly with. She could do this, it wouldn’t be that difficult.  

Astarion’s steps were silent as he came back around the corner, she flinched when she saw his hand come around her and he took the canteen from her, “It’s only—” he turned it up drinking two mouthfuls before raising a brow. Right, she thought, he needed the strength. He was still covered in dirt and blood, his hair somewhat flattened against his head but as she looked at him, she realized that he wasn’t sweaty. She wasn’t wearing leather armor like him but she could feel her sweat chilling against her skin. He was right about the leather chaffing. The slick of her sweat had given the smooth leather the ability to slide against her skin, but now with the added dirt, she could feel it rubbing against the threads under her collar. 

“What?” he asked and she cut her eyes away, “Nothing. Sorry.” She didn’t see Astarion narrow his eyes before he stalked around the table and sat across from her.  

“If we’re going to make it out of here, we need to trust each other,” he said as he passed the canteen back to her. She closed the lid and put it back into her pack with the rations bag. “I do trust you,” she said as she looked at him, maybe she didn’t but it was better that he believed she did. Astarion was smaller than Issac but she’d been hurt by men who had the rogue’s build. He had a smirk on his face that made Vesper’s blood chill a bit and she looked down at the table, his hands weren’t on the tabletop now, she didn’t know where they were and that worried her more than just being alone with him.

“I’m sure,” he said as his eyes narrowed a hair more, “I need you to extend that trust just a bit more…” Now she glanced up at him and he held up both hands, waiting as she looked between them. They were bare, no gloves, no weapons, just empty. Empty hands were just as dangerous as a weapon for the right person.

“Last night,” he said softly before clearing his throat, “I did not cut you…with a weapon.” It was Vesper’s turn to narrow her eyes, she tilted her head as she looked at him. Her eyes scanned over his face and then to his hands again, she knew he had longer nails but just assumed it was an upper city thing, “Your nails?” she asked as she eyed them. He’d said he was trying to wake her, perhaps he was going to tap her with them until she woke up. Astarion had behaved a bit childishly since he’d tried to kill her on the beach, almost as if he were trying to make up for holding that blade to her throat.

“Aha, no,” he smiled and one of his hands bent before he tapped his teeth. The area they were in had little to no light. The glow from the outpost’s magical defenses was barely registrable in here but she leaned forward until her dark vision adjusted to see the sharp incisor he was pointing to. He opened his mouth to speak again and she realized there was a twin on the mirrored side. 

“I, in poor taste, made a joke about you being the vampire that drank all the blood of that boar,” he said as he watched her and Vesper blanched. She had seen fanged teeth last night. He’d not had a reflection in the mirror. Her mouth dropped open and she tried to back away, falling over the bench she’d been sitting on, “You’re a–”

“Yes,” he said as he watched her move away, “but I’m not some monster…I don’t kill thinking creatures. I hunt beasts and animals…kobolds…” When she tumbled back he stood and looked over the table, “I was–”

“You were going to bite me!” she shouted as she shuffled back. The awkward movement pulled at the stitches in her shoulder and she hissed through the pain before pulling herself to standing.

“But I didn’t!” he held up a hand.  

“Because I woke up!”

“Well, yes,” his head tilted to the side as he admitted it, “but it was only because…” he paused and dropped his hands to the table, “I feel weak. I thought with just a little blood I could feel stronger…I wasn’t going to kill you. Just enough…” 

Astarion tilted his chin down, “With just enough I could be stronger…it would be easier to protect myself and you.” He added the last bit as if an afterthought. 

Vesper wrapped her arms around her middle as she looked at him. She hadn’t imagined it, hells, she had been right the night before. “This can’t be true…I’ve seen you in the sun, we were just–” while she babbled, Astarion nodded and tapped against his temple, “I believe,” he started to explain, “that our wriggly little friend is to thank for that one. It is also why I can enter living spaces without being invited and cross running streams.” 

She was watching him closely, and he seemed to know it. “The magistrate thing?” she asked again and he bowed his head in another nod, “Nearly two hundred years ago but yes, I was.” She shuffled her feet, “Why are you telling me now?”

This time Astarion stood, the bench squeaking against the stone floor, “There’s a ladder just to your right…if we go up there I want to be as strong as I can be. I was hoping,” he eased his way around the table, his hands held open, “that you might provide me the small allowance of your blood so that I can be certain we survive this. And I do mean for us both to survive. Do you remember what you said after our meeting with that devil, Raphael? If I kept you safe you would keep me safe?”

Some of Vesper’s hair fell into her face as she nodded and she looked down at his feet. His legs were relaxed. Not poised to chase her if she ran. A vampire could keep her safe. They’re supposed to be strong if the stories she had heard were true. Issac would be afraid of a vampire. Issac would be afraid of a vampire. 

The drow lifted her head to look into Astarion’s face, she stepped closer to him and saw the crease in his brow release just a tad. If Astarion liked her blood then maybe he wouldn’t let her get too hurt, it’d be hard to offer it to him if she lost a bunch. If Issac or any of his friends appeared…Astarion might fight to keep her if he enjoyed her. If she was compliant. 

'Be good. Be Obedient.' Phrases that had been drilled into her since early childhood. 'Be compliant' was one that Issac had drilled into her. If she didn’t want to be knocked around she’d comply with his wishes and those that he passed her off to.  

Wouldn’t the argument apply here as well? Astarion was offering an exchange, her blood for his protection. If she complied…

“Okay,” she said softly as she took another step toward him. The crease on Astarion’s forehead disappeared almost entirely as his brows raised, creating new creases across his forehead, “Really? I thought—never mind…shall we make ourselves more comfortable?” He waved a hand behind him to the table. Vesper licked her lips and moved around the high elf to sit down, when she looked up at him, he was frowning.

 “Did I mess up already?”

“No! No,” he chuckled dryly, “I just thought you might want to be lying down…” she shook her head. She could let him drink her blood but she couldn’t have him over her. Vesper was enjoying the fact that no man hovered over her and had enjoyed it for two weeks at this point. “I’d prefer to sit, if that would be alright?” she said meekly and Astarion nodded, “Yes,” he said, “of course. As long as you’re comfortable.”

He carefully moved her hair off of her neck and Vesper stiffened as he reached for the collar, “Maybe my wrist!” she practically shouted, her voice echoing in the chamber they occupied. Astarion cleared his throat again and stepped to the side of the table, “I’ve told you a dangerous secret about myself…what’s the collar? Why don't you want it removed?”

“It can’t be,” she said softly and he sighed before crouching to meet her eyes. “Vesper, darling, I know that some couples have their little bedroom games…but you don’t have to wear–” she shook her head and her voice stuttered, “It–it isn’t a s-sex thing. It physically can’t be removed.” Meeting his eyes again she watched as his eyes dart back and forth before looking to the collar. He stood and walked around behind her before moving her hair, twisting it up in one of his hands, and looking over the leather piece. His hand traced the belt that encircled the thick neckpiece. “We could just,” his cold, too cold now that she knew, fingers slipped under the leather, and when he gave it a tug she did shout. “Fuck!” she swore and hissed trying to follow the direction he tugged.

Astarion dropped it and with the softest pull of her hair tilted her head back, “What was that?” Tears were filling her eyes as she tried to breathe through the pain, she saw Astarion’s nostrils flare from this angle and watched as his eyes grew, “You’re bleeding,” he said before bending and sniffing at her shoulder level. “Is–” he paused and lifted his head just a few inches, “is this collar attached to your skin?”

“Yes,” shame flooded Vesper as she answered him and she felt her hair heavily fall as he released her and fell into the seat next to her. The drow took in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled slowly before lifting her arm to Astarion in an offering, “I can’t lift my arms much higher than this because of an injury and because it pulls on the stitches. If you still want my blood,” gods please still let him want her blood. Now that she had the idea in her head she wanted him to want her blood, to enjoy feeding on her. She’d go so far as to fuck him if it meant he’d keep her from Issac.

Astarion looked at her, his eyelids fluttering as he seemed to be pulled from thought, before looking down to her proffered arm and taking it, “You’ll still offer your blood?” She nodded and tried to lift her arm just an inch higher, it stretched against the strings and she winced. Astarion caught her eye and lowered her arm a bit before bending over it and sinking his teeth into her frail flesh. 

Vesper hissed as his fangs broke through her skin, sharp icy pain filled her arm before she felt his tongue push against the pulse in her wrist bringing more blood from her arm. He kept his eyes connected to hers and she didn’t look away. Vesper was unsure if it was a challenge or if he was trying to gauge when to stop, so she refused to look away from him. Her arm numbed eventually and she shook her head, “Stop.” He lifted away from her wrist and his eyes fluttered closed. “That was…” he licked his lips, but he didn’t finish the thought.

 “I feel stronger…I feel,” he chuckled a little as he lowered her arm but still held onto it, “I feel happy.”

“Good…I feel numb,” she said softly as she tried to pull her arm from his grasp, “and tired now.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat again, “we should try and meditate…get some rest. I don’t suppose you brought yourself a blanket?” She shook her head while answering quietly, “Didn’t think I’d need a bedroll.” He laughed, the sound a bit higher pitched than normal, he certainly seemed happier, “I would offer a cuddle but I’m not exactly warm either. We could start a fire though…” he nodded to her left and she turned to see a fireplace. “As long as this place’s defenses stand we should be alright to start a fire,” he stood and walked over to the fireplace. The wood was probably rotten but he’d try anyway. 

Looking about Vesper saw candles, “We could light all the candles, I kept warm one winter like that.” He held up a finger and began walking around the outpost gathering any pillar candle he could find, “Settle here then. The sooner we rest, the sooner we can try and find a way out of here. Unless the fools were dumb enough to jump after us…”

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

[thefifthsister-notactive]

The mini golf date idea, please. Because I love playing mini golf ;)

Fraternising With The Enemy

Season Six

"She lines up the shot but some would say she's playing at an unfair advantage," he spoke into the end of his putter. "Those tight jeans on that butt is enough to distract any serious contender.”

She huffed, ignoring the windmill in front of her and turning to the man behind her. “Oh, I’m cheating? That’s rich from you, considering you’ve done nothing but commentate whenever I’ve lined up my shot or grabbed my butt every chance you’ve gotten. No, it’s you doing the distracting Castle.”

He held a hand to his chest. “Look, just because you’re losing,” he accused. She scoffed. “I’m one point behind you. This isn’t over Rick. You’ll be buying the drinks for the rest of the night, mark my words. But whether you’ll be drinking yours or wearing yours is left to be seen.”

Castle gulped. “Okay, okay, just staring at the butt, I’ll let you putt in peace. When I win I won’t have it said it wasn’t a fair fight. You are a worthy adversary after all.”

She turned, made the whole in two and looked at him with triumph. “Top that, Writer Boy.”

He wasn’t grinning when he made it in four but he did smile at her little happy dance, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. 

“Fraternising with the enemy?” She teased. 

“Admiring the competition,” He corrected. 

“Ever sneak off and make out in this place?” She asked. 

“Nope. You?”

“I may know a spot,” she told him. “If I win, maybe I’ll be in the mood to show you.” 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips, lips that were so so close and then she was pulling away and strutting to the next hole.

“You fight dirty.” He called after her.

“You have no idea.”