#i'll post to ao3 within the next few days

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 20

BTS OT7 x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify

Word Count Approx: 23k

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A/N: PHEW. She is here! Let's all give around of applause to my heating pads and ice packs that carried me through writing this, and the endless thunderstorms that watered my garden so I didn't have to. Love you all, and I'm seriously so excited for the next chapter, y'all don't even know what hit you😈😈

I apologize for any typos-I'll read over it for a third time later. I got new glasses and I keep forgetting to wear them LMAO.

Also I'm such a boomer, bc I'm going to post it on AO3 and the entire tagging system confuses the shit out of me. My wife is going to be teaching me the way around the site since I'm not fluent with it as a poster LOL

~Delyn

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recap:

“Have a nice trip, Yoongi?” Hoseok chuckled nervously, one of his hands coming up to swipe hair from sticking to his sweaty forehead. All four heads turned to him with varying levels of dissatisfaction–Yoongi’s fists clenched and released themselves at his side to keep himself from swinging one of them at him. 

“Shut up.” Yoongi bit back breathlessly, Namjoon and Jimin respectively sharing similar sentiments, their annoyance overlapping one another like a choir.  

“Not now, Hoseok.” 

“I suggest you remain silent for your own well being.” 

Hoseok scanned all of their faces with visible defeat etched into his features, stopping to take in Jungkook’s deadly glare before he closed his eyes and tipped his head to land on the floor below him with a thump. “Yeah, guess I deserve that.” 

Music crackled from the speaker table to Bear’s right, filling the ballroom that was vacant and lifeless with sound. The red drapes swooped down in elegant cascades of burgundy and wine and met the reflective golden surface in a clash of red and gold. The perfect mix of color brought forth memories of freshly trimmed pine trees and swiping more imported chocolates from overflowing dessert tables than his stomach could handle. But now all that it reminded Bear of was what he no longer had. The person he enjoyed spending those days with the most, flouncing around this very ballroom in the middle of the night before helping her line the gifts for her children out beneath the tree–almost all of them purchased by him–was gone. 

Grief wrapped around his heart and squeezed, limiting his breath until a choking sound escaped his mouth into the empty ballroom. He couldn’t find himself. He felt lost. His lifeline was the letter he clutched in his hands that was now peppered with damp spots from his hands that whipped across his cheeks more times than he could count.

And the worst of it all, was that he could tell no one–show no one of how this really felt. Not if he wanted to keep his head attached upon his own shoulders and his intestines pulsing within his middle instead of writhing on the floor. 

“Bear?” 

The ballroom door opened just a few inches, enough for a face still rounded at the edges with youth and a nose that resembled the person he wished to see the most. A stronger resurgence of emotion flooded through his system that he had to smother. 

Dorothea had always looked just like Patti. 

“What’s the matter, Dottie? Do they need me to come help clean up at the hotel?” Bear mopped at his face with his jacket sleeve, rushing to hide the extent of his misery from her keen tawny eyes that looked at him the same way Patti’s had; they both had a very specific way of using the observance of others as a guise to screen their own feelings. 

She shifted, one black dress shoe balancing behind the other and her face partially obscured from his view as she glanced about the empty room. She inherited everything from her mother: her dark curls, her complexion, her face shape–everything about her was a spitting image of her–a living memory of what was now gone. 

“No,” Dorothea finally answered, sounding just as shaky as he felt. “I just wanted to…” Her voice broke off and her shoulders cowered in on themselves, hands wrapping around her middle to soothe herself. “I just wanted a hug.” 

Bear was on his feet the moment the first sob left her mouth, his own emotions clouded to focus on hers. He engulfed her in his arms and felt the way she broke. Just sixteen, and here she was saying goodbye to her mother–what right did he have to wallow when the children needed him the most. 

“I got you Dottie.” Bear whispered, pressing her into his shoulder and letting her lean on it as he pondered what led her creeping back up the path  to him and not Duane. Though he likely knew the answer, he wanted to have some kind of hope. “Where’s your old man? You know he could probably use one of these as well.” 

Dottie sniffled, and brought her face back up to meet his gaze. “He’s at the bar.” 

That was an answer enough. While Duane had every reason to drink, he had three children to worry about first–a thought that had rage pooling in his belly and gnashing its teeth at his heart. Bear knew if he spoke, it would be unkind. Thus he just held her close to release some of her own strife onto his jacket. 

After a few moments, Bear swallowed down the tightness in his throat and tried his best at offering words of comfort. “You know, he’s trying–” 

“Don’t.” Dorothea cut him off, silencing any further effort. “He’s trying but it’s not enough.” 

Bear couldn’t even fight her words, for they were the blatant truth that he himself believed. Even at the funeral that morning, Johan held little Henry tucked into one side, and Dorothea in the other–he was shorter than his father, but he was twice the man in Bear’s eyes. Bear made a mental note to try and check on both brothers later in the evening. Henry was not yet ten years old, and his own father hadn’t even held him during one of his hardest moments. Johan may be in his early twenties but he was nonetheless a child in Bear’s eyes, and was just as deserving as a hand to hold. He deserved a father as much as the rest of them. 

Bear opened his mouth to speak, but Dorothea didn’t let him. “Please don’t defend him. Not today.”

“What shall I say then?” Bear offered quietly, waiting for her to leave the hug first–you would never catch him being the first to let go. 

“You shall be honest. Say how awful he was and has been!” Dorothea pulled her face from his shoulder to wipe aggressively at her eyes, her eyes burning with passion. “Say the truth! She is dead and still he had nothing special to share. I want to hear something real about her–not some generic eulogy about love and grace.” 

Bear sighed and ran the tip of his tongue over his lip apprehensively, holding her stare, too afraid to speak in fear he would say the wrong thing. 

“I know,” Dottie’s eyes shined up at him with unshed tears, her words wet and earnest. “We know. I want to hear about her from you.” She used her hand to slip the sheet of paper from his pocket that held Patti’s final goodbyes to him in the air between them. A physical embodiment of the secret being unleashed out into the open. 

The dam had been released, all of his feelings of guilt and horror pouring out of him as he crushed her to him.  “I’m so sorry,” He choked out with a gasp. “This isn’t how you should’ve found out…” 

Despite both of their predicaments, Dorotea managed a small meek laugh and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. We’ve known since we were children.” 

“What?” Bear managed a chuckle of his own through his burning shame, wiping a fresh tear. “Was it that obvious?” 

“Very,” Dorothea gave him a bittersweet smile, her chin crumpling into shapes as it shook. “I never saw her happier unless it was with you.” 

Bear tried to smile but it came out more of a grimace, and the backs of his eyes burned with a new wave of saltwater. “Are you angry with me?” 

“Not at all,” She shook her head with a shrug. “If anything I’m grateful. Life would have been a lot worse without you here.” 

“Don’t say that! Duane was–” 

“I said don’t defend him today.” Dorothea held a finger up to his lips with a look that dared him to continue. “Not when you know full well who painted our nurseries, tucked us in at night, helped with our homework, came to all of our recitals, and sat with us each night at the dinner table. Because it wasn’t him.” 

Bear couldn’t speak. 

It really was that obvious. 

He finally settled on something truthful, something he had never spoken aloud to anyone but finally let himself utter now. “I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. Not when I know he has it in him to do better. I don’t leave anyone behind. Especially not family–not the ones I love.” 

Bear led them out of the ballroom and up to the rooftop terrace, the two of them reclined in patio chairs with their black attire standing out amongst the vivid shades of the summer blooms. He told her of everything he could remember of Patti–her resilience, her laugh, her favorite foods and what dress she liked to wear the most (even though she already knew that one). He told tales of the day he first met her, of her pregnancy with Johan and how he used to make her shoo fly pie with sliced strawberries on the side because it was one of the only things she could stomach during her first few months pregnant. He shared how the first time he had made it had been within his first few days back home after a long while away. He had served everyone a slice after supper, and watched as her eyes light up after the first taste hit her tongue. That one slice hadn’t been enough it seemed, because she had come to find him in the study far past midnight with a nervous smile and a belly hungry enough for two, starving for his creation of molasses and sugar and topped with vanilla ice cream. He had no choice but to oblige the moment he laid eyes on her standing in the door way, looking at him so.

That night the two of them stayed in the kitchen until dawn as he prepared her a new pie entirely of her own. It was the first night he had heard her laugh freely–the first time he had felt the warmth in his chest of a newly kindled affection for her.

Bear and Dorothea were still crying, but not for the same reasons as before. These tears were now warmed by their shared love of one of the best women they knew, not by just the shadow of her loss. It wasn’t long before Johan and his girlfriend found them, Henry’s lanky form trailing between them with one hand held up by the couple.

 Margaret was his long term girlfriend who had made a habit of coming around the house as often as possible as of late. And while from first glance she seemed rather rigid and inflexible, religious (which Johan was definitely not), and strict in behavior–she was kind and headstrong with the intelligence to match. When the two of them were together it was like watching a scale tip into balance, seesawing back and forth as the weight evenly distributed into a perfect equilibrium.  Johan softened her edges, while she toughened his. 

Bear had a feeling he would be seeing her around the estate long after the the night ended. 

 The new addtions found their own seats, Henry tucked on Bear’s lap with his head buried in his neck and his small arms wrapped around his shoulders and Johan and Margaret curled and posed on the floor next to one another–and the five of them (after Henry had dozed) continued to share their favorite memories of their mother until the sun had started to set and the breeze began to cool. 

Hurried footsteps on the stairs and labored breathing were the welcoming the fanfare for Youngho’s abrupt entrance, stopping once he spotted Bear and the children all circled around one another. Their conversation died out at his abrupt entrance, all heads turning to greet him. 

He smiled, tense and riddled with discomfort. He gave everyone a short wave before beelining over to Bear and bending at the waist to whisper in his ear, sliding a piece of torn notebook paper into his awaiting hands. “I suggest you guide the children away from here–quickly.” 

Bear stiffened as he thumbed the paper, scanning the large blocky capital letters that ran from one edge to the other. 

 “Squirrel ate a bad nut–stomachache. We need pollen and sunshine. – J&S” 

Bear regarded Youngho with concern. “What kind of ill are you implying?” 

“All of it.” Youngho sighed, voice low enough to be kept between them, rising with a hand on his hips and red rimmed eyes facing the children to address them kindly. “I heard they are serving pie and ice cream in the dining room shortly, came to find you and give you all a heads up.” 

“Thanks…” Johan wearily eyed both Bear and Youngho, scrutinizing their interaction as though under a microscope. He found Bear’s eyes, and nodded curtly as if sensing the tension, rising to his feet from his seat and tugging Margaret up with him. “I think we should go. We’ve been stowed away from the guests for quite some time now.” 

He helped his sister up to follow, and went to scoop Henry up from Bear before the four of them took the steps at a slow pace, Dorothea casting sidelong glances back at Bear with worry etched into her features until she had disappeared down to the balcony. 

Bear waited until he was sure they were out of earshot before his smile wiped from his face, and he turned to Youngho with urgency. “How bad?” 

“Bad.” Youngho affirmed, leading him into the attic to rush down through the dark cramped walls and down the stairs into the right hall of bedrooms. It would be best if the they avoided the children from here on out.  

Bear kept up with the taller man’s nimble speed easily, taking the stairs two at a time and shutting the door behind them. “Where?” 

“The Adelaide. Seonggi is already with him.”

The Adelaide–like the rest of the hotel–had been closed and vacated for the day as was customary when the family was in mourning, making their speedy pace through the front doors and lobby much easier than it would have been otherwise. Bear and Youngho skidded to a halt outside the closed doors of the Adelaide where Seonggi stood ramrod straight, an image of perfect professionalism to anyone that didn’t know him well enough to recognize the tension pinched between his shoulder blades and brow. 

The moment his almond eyes found the two of them, they visibly relaxed and he ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Lord have mercy, where have you been?” 

“I was with the children.” Bear caught his breath easily, giving the door a look of disgust. “They needed someone to be there for them.” 

“Well they are lucky it wasn’t him,” Seonggi began to unwind the lock he had placed on the outside of the door, presumably to keep Duane in, not them out. “Things really have taken a turn for the worst. First Adelaide and now Patti–we are outnumbered.” Seonggi turned his face skywards and sighed, as though gathering the strength from god himself before sending a pointed glance Bear’s way. “Don’t make it worse.” 

He tugged a bell from his pocket, waiting for the other two men to do the same. Bear tried not to let his remark get under his skin, but it was hard not to. This had nothing to do with Bear’s choices but everything to do with Duane’s own. He refused to take the blame this time.

Once the cool cylinder’s of metal were lodged in their fists, they shared one last look of courage before Seonggi placed his palm on the door handle, not quite getting to push before a voice called out to them from the hall. 

“What are you guys doing?” 

Margaret, Johan’s girlfriend stood with both hands on her hips at the end of the entrance hall, one black shoe tapping on the rug beneath her feet expectantly. It took a moment for the men to respond, shared looks of uncertainty saying enough for them.

“This is hotel business. Please return to the Estate to partake in the food and drink provided.” Seonggi gave the brightest smile Bear had ever seen, like he was talking to a customer and not a friend. 

She sized the three of them up, quirking one eyebrow at the excuse, and both arms coming up to cross over her front. “Hotel business? The hotel is closed.” 

A vein in Seonggi’s neck twitched, but he withheld his smile, shifting the bell into his pocket to wave at her dismissively. “That you are right it is. However, some things still need to be taken care of even when no guests are around to enjoy it.” Youngho and Bear shared a nervous glance when a thud sounded from within the restaurant, but Margaret was too far to hear it. 

“If you are to sin enough to tell a lie, at least make it a worthwhile reason to repent.” Margaret started down the hall and stopped just beside them much to their chagrin, and gave them each an individual once over. “So I shall ask again: what are you all doing here? 

Spunk. She had spunk that made the corners of Bear’s lips quiver upwards even on a day as terrible as the one he was having. He quite liked her, he decided, and an idea so absurd it made his heart thrum in his chest came to his mind. 

Seonggi’s eyelid twitched involuntarily, and he tried to give her another sweet smile that had begun to look a bit too forced. “Miss, it would be best–” 

“Are you going to marry him?” Bear interrupted Seonggi, addressing Margaret directly with all the seriousness he could muster. “Johan–do you intend to marry him?” 

The young woman looked quite taken aback, a hand coming up to fidget with the string of pearls around her neck with squinted eyes. “Perhaps.” 

Bear let his military persona take hold of him, his eyes lasering in on her features and his demeanor shifting from friendly to one that meant business–a demeanor he barely ever used at home. “I asked you a question. Do you intend to marry my-” my son. Bear cut himself off, his tongue nearly slipping with a word he knew he shouldn’t say. Though he knew if anyone deserve to, it would be him. “-my nephew.”  He corrected himself swiftly, barely a beat passing between it. 

Margaret met his stare with one of her own that was just as powerful. “I do so hope to, sir.” 

Bear examined her closely for any sign of dishonesty, his well trained eyes finding none. He chewed on the tip of his tongue, the gnaw of the muscle instinctual as he  weighed his choices and the gravity of what he was about to ask of her. If what she said was true, then she would be the next lady of the Estate, thus taking on the role Patti had held for many years prior–but she would have no one to teach her of the role she was to take–the parts that had remained invisible to most until the more recent years would have to be learned on the job. Pieces of it would remain forgotten, as parts of it were even forbidden for Patti to share with him–lost to time and sickness. He prayed they would do without, and even as the prayers made their rounds within his mind he knew they were weightless. 

“Take this,” Bear tossed her his bell which she caught effortlessly, peering down at the metal dubiously. 

“Bear!” Seonggi hissed through his teeth, trying to garner his attention but failing to do so.

Margaret looked back up at Bear quizzically, one eyebrow raised in question. “A bell?” 

“Yep,” Bear nodded, turning back to the door and readying himself to enter. “Welcome to the Wörner’s. Usually the lady of the house would teach you this, but as you are well aware she is dead, so you will have to hit the ground running. Hope you don’t mind the head start–but desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

Seonggi looked at Bear with wide, scandalized eyes. “Barrett Wörner!” 

There was an ear splitting crash from the other side of the door as though a shower of glass had rained down from within, and she let out a small gasp through parted lips, clutching the bell tightly in her fist. Bear stared at her expectantly, awaiting a proper answer. Finally she turned to him,  giving the bell a gentle shake in her fist and eyes aglow with determination. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

Bear managed a half-hearted grin. She really was growing on him already. 

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“Twenty seven!” A man’s voice bellowed out in astonishment. “Why–that’s practically all of them!” 

Four little girls huddled in a half circle in front of a plush red armchair, their hands all outstretched in offering to the man seated within it, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. In their tiny palms was an assortment of chocolate candies, all of them beginning to melt and smear onto their skin. 

“It is what you asked for!” One of the girls cried out, giggles pouring from her chest and her feet unable to hold themselves still. 

“What you asked for!” the girl next to her repeated her phrase–albeit in a bit clunkier manner than the first–and held her own fist of sweets closer to the man's face. 

Y/n blinked slowly, watching the scene unfold in front of her the same way as one watches trash television, like she was watching but not really seeing. 

She had watched this scene roughly eight times now from her spot against the living room wall. It would start with Ernst sitting hunched in the arm chair, a newspaper in his fist with the back door propped open to let in the warm early spring air; a cigar would be pinched between his lips as he hummed along to the headlines he skimmed. 

After approximately thirty seconds or so (Y/n started counting by her third viewing), a gaggle of four young girls all dressed in vintage dresses speckled with dirt would come thumping into the living room with fists held high in triumphant victory with their stolen delicacies. Two of them Y/n vaguely recognized as Louise and Madeline from her late night family tree studies–Candida’s two daughters. The other girls Y/n recognized immediately as one of the first Kim daughters, and next to her was someone Y/n had almost forgotten about: Ani. But Y/n felt like she had forgotten about everything anyways–was she supposed to care about Ani? Something pinging in her mind told her she should. 

They would offer him the chocolates, he would guffaw and wink at them before splitting them up for them all to share by the time Philomena would come barreling around the corner like a steam train with smoke billowing out from both ears, calling for Ernst in a tone Y/n recognized all too well–as she had been on the receiving end of it from the countless women in her life as a child. Then the scene would end as the children left him in the dust with chocolate smeared on his chin to be scolded by his wife for the thievery. Sometimes it would immediately restart, and other times she got to see something else. 

This was one of those times it seemed that they were giving her a break. 

Ah yes. 

The grassy field. 

Now this one Y/n had only gotten to see twice so far, and it was quite short and boring in her eyes. 

Dogs, a pack of four of them–maybe five–would bounce through the tall grassy fields with their tails pointed and noses twitching with the thrill of the hunt. Behind them trailed a small group of men with hunting rifles strapped onto their backs as they chased after the canines with sweat beaded brows. Y/n counted the men: there were three of them. 

By the time one of the dogs bounded past Y/n, the scene would vanish and she’d be back in the living room, listening to Ernst hum pensively and thumb the corner of the newspaper he held in his fingers. 

She waited for the girls to come in, straining her ears for the tell tale sign of their small feet running down the hall from the kitchen. 

And they came just as expected–this time she counted twenty seven seconds. 

Y/n let her head loll to the side, and enjoyed the view of the backyard from the open door, admiring both how little and how much had changed. She couldn’t remember what she had done to get here. She couldn’t remember much at all–but had she said that already? Her brain felt muddied, like a river that a group of hikers had waded through, kicking clouds of dirt and substrate into the waters as they went–except the water was her mind, and for once it wasn’t racing fast enough to clear the waters up. 

She listened to the girls' excited breaths as they waited for Ernst to count out the chocolates, her eyes trained on the sway of a tree on the horizon and a small bird that chittered from branch to branch. The smell of trees, spring blooms and fresh forest air billowed in from outside, inviting her out into the sun–though Y/n knew she only had seconds before the scene would restart and any distance she walked would be mute.

Well, she guessed she hadn’t tried to walk anywhere. But why try? The scenes were enough entertainment for the time being. Something sharp and aromatic carried over the wind, and she blinked, searching for the little wisp that she had gotten. It was so familiar…

“No, I don't know what a spell bag is. The fuck is this–Halloween Town?” 

Y/n jerked off the wall, her head whipping about in all directions for the familiar voice that had broken through the sounds of the girls devouring the treats with excited squeals. 

Another voice, equally as familiar responded to the other. “Don’t be a smartass. Give it to me–here just grab the-” there was a pause followed by a heavy sigh and an intense scent of roses choked Y/n’s senses. “Great. Now you’ve done it.” 

Y/n knew those voices, they stirred something in her chest that made her eyes water unwillingly. She spun in circles to find the source–the old red living room and her ghostly companions oblivious to the intrusion. 

A sneeze stopped her in her tracks–for Ernst had been the one whose head jerked forward with the outburst. Y/n watched as he did something he hadn’t done in all of the nine times she had watched it play out: he took a handkerchief from his pockets and held it to his nose as a second sneeze overcame him. 

Ernst turned his head to the side to discard it onto the end table, his eyes passing over where Y/n stood bouncing right back to her in astonishment. They maintained eye contact, both of them equally as shocked to see one another. He opened his mouth to say something but the scene disintegrated before he could get a single word out. 

Y/n was dropped onto the front lawn beneath a bright hot sun in a new scene that she had yet to watch as of yet. One of her hands came up to block the light from blinding her vision, making the surroundings sharper, the details familiar as though looking at one of her own memories. 

She had seen this before–but it wasn’t necessarily her memory. 

It was as though she had been dropped into one of the photos that was hung up at the historical society–the lines of children with their stick weapons drawn at the ready in battle. Everyone was in place: Leon was reclined on the front steps, lower legs gone and in the hands of his children. The women sitting off to the side with babies on their laps looked with a stern press of their brow as though waiting with a scold already perched on their lips. 

Bear was–wait. Bear was gone. 

The place where young Bear should have stood was empty, but the leg in Duane’s hand was still gesturing at the empty spot with squinted eyes. Leon quipped out a sharp whistle and the children’s fighting commenced without care for Bear’s absence.

They moved as though Bear was still there–dodging from invisible attacks and lunging at something unseen. 

Children screamed with laughter and over dramatic battle cries that felt comforting and familiar, and the sun was warm on her skin. Y/n sat herself on the stairs and peered up at the clouds distractedly–had she been looking for something? Why was her heart racing? It surely wouldn’t hurt to sit and watch the children play…

“He’s literally the opposite of a goblin if he has a vacuum cleaner in his room.” 

“I’d say he would be a brownie if he was any sort of household creature.” 

“What even is that? Is that some DnD thing?” 

There was a sputtering noise from someone’s mouth before one of the voices cried out in defense. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never read a fantasy book. We literally all read Spiderwick and Lord of the Rings together!” 

“Focus please, all of you! We can discuss Jungkook’s creature status later!” Y/n felt something soft on the skin of her palm and a comforting weight settled between her fingers. “We all know Jungkook would be a barbarian anyways…” 

Y/n shot to her feet–Yes! The voices! She knew them! 

She turned abruptly, her memory trying to squeeze up into her consciousness as she ran up the front steps and pushed through the front doors. While her memory was still hazy, she was able to pull up the urge to run back to her room which was–Her feet came to a slow stop in the entranceway, the red drapes and carpet surrounding her felt wrong. 

Where was her room again? 

Music floated from the study, the chirping of a flute, the singing of a violin and the low timbre of a cello all swirling with one another in a uniformed swell. Y/n stole a peek through the study doors, but the room was empty–only sound emanated from the space from phantom musicians. 

A stronger floral smell engulfed her, planting stakes into the folds of her brain and making them pulse with the start of a headache. 

“Lavender is usually used for sleep, but it can also be an effective cleansing herb. I don’t care if I have to use up my entire greenhouse stash–we will keep trying.”

Y/n was standing still one second, and the next she was running. Up the stairs and following the scent of lavender to the right hand side of the landing and straight down the hall. As the doors sped past her, the hall grew darker as though the sun had fallen from the sky and the moon had shot up to take its place. 

She was almost there–her friends–she needed to get to them to tell them…something. The smell led to the second to last door, and she grabbed the handle to give it a strong twist, shoving it open and out of the way. 

Yoongi’s bed was scattered with dried rose petals and a pot of dried lavender was smoldering on his bedside table. Her friends were spaced about the room on whatever surface they could fit–hands all busy rooting through glass jars of plant matter and seeds Y/n recognized from the greenhouse as some of Namjoon’s collection. 

Y/n made a move to run straight to them, to her body that lay lifeless on his comforter next to Jimin’s head that he rested on folded arms next to her with his fingers playing with the stiff digits on her own hand. The only indicator that he was stressed was the steady bounce of his knee and the can of soda next to the lavender pot.  

“I’m right here!” Y/n cried out to him, and she watched as Jimin’s head snapped to face her with wide eyes unseeing–searching for her. 

Then she was back in the living room with Ernst humming at the headlines on the daily paper, smoke snaking from the tip of his cigar and drifting out the open back door. She had twenty seven seconds until the girls would come in and share their hoards. 

Twenty seven seconds is all she had to run back up the stairs. 

She ran full speed down the halls, passing the children as they made their escape with their stolen treats from the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time as they appeared. The hall was darker than before, nearly black with shadow this time as she ran wildly back towards Yoongi’s room with just the scent of lavender, roses and sage to guide her.

“No!” Someone howled out from behind her, startling her to trip over the threshold and sprawl onto the carpet. The floor fell out from beneath her like a trap door and her stomach lurched into her throat with a scream as she plummeted through the main floor straight into the basement; the piles of old furniture and children’s toys breaking her fall. A cloud of dust had her waving her hand in front of her face to relieve her airways of the particles that choked out her breath. 

“One more lap mother! Just one more lap please!” 

Y/n sat up straight on the soft blue blanket that was sprawled out beneath her upon the grass, a few blades that escaped from the fabric tickling the skin of her ankles and making them itch. 

“Alright then–just one more! Then we have to return home for supper!” The woman to her right waved back to the girls that splashed about the lake with glee, sending them off on another sprint across the water. A towel was draped over her own lap and her hair was shoved up into a swim cap to keep it dry, one hand lined up on her brow  as she carefully watched the young children paddle the width of the lake. 

Y/n got to her knees and waved a hand in front of the woman’s face, but she had no reaction to the movement or proximity. Y/n was invisible–at least for the time being–for she was invisible to Ernst too until the unexplainable few seconds when she wasn’t.

“Can you help me? I need to get back home–to the Estate. I need to find my friends…” Y/n tried speaking to the woman, who had about the same amount of notice as she had prior: none.  She brought her fingers up to tap at her shoulder, and the woman was solid and warm, the flesh dimpling beneath her touch and bouncing back into place as a real person’s would. 

Y/n furrowed her brows, and pressed her palm to the skin of the woman’s upper arm–for the skin was hot like she was developing a maddening fever. “Are you alright?” 

“I don’t know if you can hear me but…I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have come back the first day we talked on the phone. I should have hung up and jumped on the first flight back. Just keep fighting to get back here. We can figure this out together….you know…stick together and all that crap.”

A featherlight sensation traced across Y/n’s forehead and down the skin of her cheek, moving down to tickle at the skin of the back of her hand, and her heartbeat hammered in her ribs as something soft and hot pressed to the back of her knuckles. 

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let you stay in there–I will find a way to fix this.” 

The woman turned robotically to Y/n, her eyes raking over her face and a scowl forming on her features and hissing through her teeth. “You are going to get us all in trouble if you keep doing that!” 

Dogs bounded in front of her. Three men carried the rear of the pack, trudging through the tall grass under the unforgiving sun. The woman and the lake were gone. Y/n clutched at her head, squeezing her skull between it like if she pressed hard enough she would be able to squish her sanity back in place. 

“I’m not mad at you.” This voice was quieter than the last, merely a whisper that was broken and molded around a carefully constructed air of composure that was crumbling. “I know you think I am, but I’m not. I just…I need you here.” 

Her entire left side was warm, but not uncomfortably so. It felt safe, and brought forth the scent of clean linens and fresh smelling body wash–the weight shifted but the warmth stayed, her cheek feeling hotter than before like it was pressed to a furnace. 

“‘ In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’

Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, colored, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her followed…’” 

“I can’t understand who in their right mind would think their lover’s silence is anything but awful.” She heard a tsk, and a soft chuckle before something warm pressed to her temple. “I think silence from you is the worst thing imaginable.” Pages fluttered, and the gentle voice continued to read forth more from the pages of what she recognized as Pride and Prejudice that she could no longer hear.

Y/n’s head spun as she was thrust back into the living room, Ernst mumbling to himself absentmindedly around his cigar that burned bright orange at the tip. The voice was gone but she knew where to find it. 

Twenty seven seconds. 

Y/n pumped her arms and legs, kicking up the red rug beneath her feet and tearing up the stairs down the hall. 

“I can feel you. Can you feel me?” Long fingers squeezed down around her own. “I will come find you. There’s no place they could hide you from me where I wouldn’t reach you.” 

Sage. Y/n smelt sage and Frankincense, and she clung to it blindly even as the hall shrouded into darkness that threatened to drop her down into the basement or throw her into whatever scene they wanted next. She willed herself forwards until she was practically flying through the door, ignoring the way the shadows extended outwards to catch her from the walls, floors and ceilings; curling up her ankles and grappling for her arms as they passed. 

Y/n leapt blindly onto the bed, sailing over the threshold and bouncing onto the mattress, the smell nauseatingly strong but oh so inviting. 

_________________________________________

“Can someone pass me the Rosemary?” Namjoon’s voice blotted in from a distance, bleeding through what felt like mounds of cotton blocking Y/n’s ear drums. 

Her entire body felt as though encased in cement, each muscle and tendon weighed down and immobile, like they weren’t connected to her brain. Y/n attempted a single twitch of her finger and found the motion impossible. She could not even open her eyes. 

There was a barely audible rustle of leaves, and an overwhelming aroma wafted over her face that would make even the most repleted metaphysical shop jealous, pulling whatever moisture was left from her skin until a slight stinging sensation buzzed on its surface.. Each inhale scratched at the insides of her airways, and her lungs struggled to expand like the movement was foreign to her–and perhaps it was. Someone squeezed her hand again, stopping just at the point where the pressure might start to hurt. 

Jungkook breathed, and relief wasn’t even a strong enough word to describe how he spoke. “It’s working…”

The smoke grew thicker, and her throat dryer with each passing second. She swallowed, the saliva thick and sharp as knives scraping done her esophagus, forcing her to repeat the motion in rapid succession. 

Hands brought forth the lingering smell of antibacterial hand soap and lemon scented cleaner splayed across both sides of her face and held it still. Thin wisps of hair tickled her cheeks, and a forehead pressed against hers. 

“Come back.” Jungkook commanded softly, sparks pulsing from the tips of his fingers and tickling her skin, melting the cement on her limbs and bringing a wave of goosebumps over the expanse of her body. 

Y/n moved her pinky finger, then her pointer finger even more so. It was no grand movement, or even considered much of a movement at all–but it was enough to elicit a response from nearly everyone in the room–the energy around them all charging and buzzing around them even though all outbursts were silenced by Namjoon’s authoritative command and willing them to remain quiet. 

Jungkook gasped quietly and his hands started to shake, his breath quickening as nearly silent curses fell from his lips–he was pulling her forwards and willing her awake, willing her to open her eyes. 

He was the first thing she saw simply because of his nearness alone, though she would’ve imagined she wouldn’t have seen much else anyway as his eyes demanded her attention, her own drawn to them like magnets. How grateful she was to see his eyes glistening and full of life in front of her.

In an instant she froze, bristling at the sight of their reflective surface and bracing herself for the worst–for Candida to be there waiting for her to let her back in. But there was nothing but herself, tired and worn looking back at her. 

Y/n tossed the blanket off in a hurry, startling Jungkook away from her face and sending him leaping back and out of her reach as her feet touched the floor. She didn’t even think to look at the worried faces that surrounded her or their layered voices telling her to do something–sit down? She wasn’t sure. All she could think about was the mirror in the corner of Yoongi’s room and how it faced her. 

She stumbled like a newborn giraffe using its legs for the first time as blood began to flow back into them, they still felt heavy but she couldn’t let it stop her–she needed to check. 

It was only a moment that she had in front of the mirror. A split second of uninterrupted time where she was able to breathe with just her own reflection staring back at her in the mirror–and as disheveled and unkempt as she looked, she had never been happier to see herself as such. 

Hot tears pooled in her eyes that she couldn’t stop from dripping down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to look at something and not be scared of what she would see–the nearly two weeks of Candida haunting her every move feeling like an eternity. 

The second of peace ended when Namjoon appeared looking equally fatigued behind her, the bundle of rosemary still smoking in his hand. “Y/n, you should really lay back down. You were out for a long time and you need to take things slow.” 

Right as the words left his mouth she felt the stiffness in her joints make itself known, and the fogginess of her brain that left her dizzy and teetering from one side to the other. But one thing that wasn’t present was the homicidal urges she had felt before she had–

Y/n gasped, feeling herself fall backwards towards the mirror with her hands bracing themselves for the impact that never came. 

Yoongi who was leant up against his desk closest to her was at her side in an instant, tucking an arm around her waist and throwing hers around his shoulder to keep her from falling into the mirror, Jimin following closely behind to do the same on her other side. 

“You have a really bad habit of not listening when someone tells you to slow down, don’t you?” Yoongi chided teasingly, though the light of his jest did not reach his eyes as they shuffled back to his bed. Namjoon followed closely behind them, constantly waving his hand in circular motions to guide puffs of smoke towards Y/n. 

Jimin bumped his hip against hers with a small curve of his lips. “You could just stop at ‘bad habit of not listening’.”

Y/n sniffled, both hands clasping down on either man’s shoulder like if she let go this dream of normalcy would shatter. They helped her fall back down onto the comforter next to Jungkook with a light bounce, and after a few beats of tense silence, she managed to rasp out her first words. “How long?” 

They shared a look of uncertainty that said all that she needed to know. 

“How long?” Y/n tried again, her voice still rough with underuse. 

Namjoon chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked down at her with a weary expression. “Two weeks. It’s almost June.” 

“W-what?!” Y/n blanched and wilted like the dried up rose petals below her. The time spent locked in those loops felt no longer than a couple hours at most. “That’s not possible. How am I not dead? I would’ve had to eat and drink.” Heat rushed into her face as embarrassment made her short circuit. “To pee–” 

“You weren’t completely out the whole time. Sometimes things would…come through.” Jimin offered, taking up the spot on her other side. 

As if reading her mind, Yoongi responded from back at his desk. “You were possessed. This isn’t the first time your body has come to with someone else taking the reigns. We’ve been mostly able to remove one of them–but the other is a bit more…complex.” 

“Candida is gone?” Y/n let hope color her expression as she glanced up at him. 

“No.” Jungkook answered this time, shaking his head once. “The ‘other’ one is gone. Candida is refusing to let go. She’s hiding.” 

Y/n brought her hands up to shield her face with her hands as more tears stung at the back of her eyes. The freedom she had thought she had felt was a false hope, and her breath threatened to quicken in her chest against her will. Jimin’s delicate fingers encircled her wrist and brought them down, intertwining their fingers in one and offering the other to Jungkook, who hesitantly took it, holding it loosely on his lap. 

“We still don’t know who the other one is,” Namjoon started with a sigh, plopping himself down on a folding chair they had propped next to the mattress. “They left as soon as Jungkook started pushing them. We were hoping that you could give us some answers on that front.” He looked up at her expectantly, the bowl of embers and leaves cradled on his lap. 

“I don’t…” Y/n pushed the boundaries of her memory, poking and prodding at whatever her brain could muster with little reward. “I can’t really remember it’s all fuzzy. I remember coming back from the greenhouse…” Y/n shuddered at the memory, her chest tightening at the flashbacks of the vision she had seen, but she couldn’t let herself dwell on it–not when Yoongi was watching her so closely. “ And I remember sitting with my plants but that’s about–” Y/n gasped louder than she had when she had woken up, a new wave of grief settling over her. “My plants! Are they okay? I don’t remember putting them back, and two weeks is a long time without water…” 

The longer she spoke, the more her voice grew in strength, but the more unnerved Namjoon grew. He shifted in his seat as redness crept up his neck. “Well you see…your…you…” 

“We can check on your plants later,” Yoongi offered with a pointed look at Namjoon. “If you really can’t remember anything then there is something else we can do…you just might not like it.” 

“What is it?” Y/n shrunk in on herself. “The last time we tried one of your exercises it didn’t go very well.” 

“Exercises?” Jungkook repeated, glowering up at Yoongi with lips pressed together tightly. “What exercises?” 

“Not important right now,” Yoongi waved his hand dismissively at the younger one, fixing Y/n with an unreadable expression. “While you were out, someone else decided to lend a helping hand. I don’t know if you remember seeing them–or if you remember coming to at all.” 

“I don’t think it wise to stress her out too much right away.” Jimin cut in, one of his eyes twitching. 

“Agreed,” Namjoon dragged a large hand down his face. 

“Well that isn’t really a decision when it comes to this. If you think he’s going to stay away you all really are dense.” Yoongi scoffed with a disbelieving shake of his head. “We can approach some things carefully, but not everything can be handled with tweezers and CareBear bandaids.” 

Y/n thought back to the voices she had heard clipping into her time loops, checking them each off of her list one by one. 

Jungkook and Yoongi had spoken to her multiple times–Namjoon too. Jimin had been the one reading to her, it was easy to recognize his melodic voice anywhere. But there had been five. 

“What even is that? Is that some DnD thing?” 

Just as the thought struck her, the same voice  pushed Yoongi’s door open, supported by the sound of groaning wood and jingling metal. “Alright, I picked up that stuff you wanted from the–” 

Hoseok’s words withered down to a croak in his throat as he closed the door behind him, a pair of leather driving gloves still pulled over his hands that carried a set of keys and a decently sized brown paper bag. Time stopped.  

“Get out!” Y/n shrieked, climbing over Jungkook’s lap towards the end table and grabbing the first thing she could–an empty soda can that had fallen onto its side on the end table–and chucked it at him. “Get out!” 

“H-hey, wait–oof!” Hoseok brought the bag up to shield his face from the projectile, dropping it just in time to catch a pillow straight to the face. 

Y/n leveled her next pillow at him before it was yanked from her grasp by a disgruntled Namjoon. “Give him a second!” He tossed the pillow across the room and pointed a finger at her when her eyes flickered to the last remaining cushion. “Don’t even think about it.” 

He snatched that one up too for good measure, and glared at the three other men that had made no move to get in her way. “Thanks for your help,” he gestured to Yoongi, Jimin and Jungkook with his chin, “not like you weren’t within arms reach or anything.” 

Yoongi shrugged and a teensy smirk made its way onto his lips and he pathetically attempted to raise his arm. “Eh. It was a long reach.” 

Jungkook almost smiled, and averted his eyes from Namjoon. “I was surprised. Sorry.” 

“Whatever.” Namjoon rolled his eyes and returned to his seat. 

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was seeing. None of them were responding appropriately to the situation–especially after what had happened at the guest house and the spring pop up. Fine, Y/n grit her teeth, she didn’t need a pillow to do her dirty work. 

Y/n clambered down from the bed and started at Hoseok with a clumsy charge that was stopped by Yoongi’s hands fisting in the back of her shirt. “As much as I would personally love to see you land a good hit on him, I think you should hear him out.” 

_________________________________________

Y/n’s back was pressed against the wall with her knees bent to keep a level of space between her and where Hoseok sat on the desk chair he had rolled a few feet away from the bed to hopefully ease her discomfort. (It didn’t by the way).  She was freshly showered and donned the fresh change of clothes Jimin and Jungkook had swiped from her room, with a spare comforter hugged to her chest that replaced Yoongi’s while it was sent down to be washed. 

Memories were beginning to come back to her, as was her mind and body connection. She hadn’t stopped shaking since her shower, the hot water had probably started to help her process her adrenaline and release pent up stress from her last days consciousness. While her last moments were still fuzzy she could feel the emotions of it returning to her all at once, and one thing was clear was that she was still angry with the sheepish man in front of her–no matter how guilty he looked. 

Hoseok had yet to speak. Each time his mouth opened to find his words, it snapped closed like they had escaped him, leaving them in a suffocating silence that was teeming with palpable tension. It was almost unbearable. 

Thankfully the two of them weren’t entirely alone in this silence; while the others had left to give her and Hoseok privacy, Yoongi had stayed back with the excuse that it was his room, and he could stay if he liked. Thus he sat on the fold out chair with a pair of over the ear headphones pulled over his head and a sketchbook open on his desk, his pencil gliding over the paper in quick handed sketches of trees and clouds from his window.  

Y/n was grateful for his presence–not only because she technically hadn’t gotten to greet him properly since his return, but also because it meant someone else was there to keep her from doing something rash if she felt cornered. 

“So…” Hoseok started weakly, clearing his throat behind a gloved fist. “The last time you spoke you said–” 

“I said not to talk to me ever again.” Y/n finished for him sharply, picking at the thread of the comforter and refusing to look at him. “I thought I made that pretty clear.” Y/n could’ve sworn she saw the corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirk up from the corner of her eye but she must have been imagining it.

Hoseok visibly paled, and hurriedly spoke again. “Yes–but you said I could talk to you again if I was willing to come clean.” The chair released repeated squeaks as his leg bounced uncontrollably, and he shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “And I want to do that.”

“Then do it? Who is stopping you?” Y/n smoothed the blanket over her knees again. 

Silence overtook them, even the bouncing of his leg stopped. “Can I show you instead?”  

Y/n finally looked up at him, taken off guard by his request. She feigned disinterest though her curiosity had been piqued, and gave him a brief once over before turning back to the blanket. “And how do you intend to do that?” 

Hoseok pinched the tip of his middle finger and slid the driving gloves off his hands and dropped them on his lap. He held his hands out between them with the unspoken expectation that she would take them, and from their vulnerable and suspended state she could see them shaking. He was nervous. 

“I’m going to try and control it, Yoongi and Jungkook have been letting me practice with them but…” He trailed off, eyes imploring her to believe him. “But sending is a lot harder than receiving.” 

“He was already vetted by the kid,” Yoongi offered from his seat without so much as a second glance. “Do with that what you will.” He flicked the one side of his headphones back on and disengaged from the discussion once more. 

Y/n flitted her gaze between Yoongi and Hoseok, and with Yoongi’s words in mind, she crawled forward across the bed and parked herself at the edge so her hands could reach across the gap and grab his. 

She felt an internal tug towards him similar to how it felt when Yoongi would swirl about her, but the sensations he brought were nothing like Yoongi. Hoseok was hot, his pull burning at her insides like a scalding cup of tea–bordering between painful and satisfying.Scenes like small movies crashed in and out of her vision one my one, pristine doctors offices, pill bottles, dark wooden cabin rooms with her mothers face towering over her, a little boy–

No. She was pulled away from the image of the little boy and thrust back into the doctor's office to look at a collection of x-rays and MRI’s, her eyes skimming the charts for key words. 

Fall. Injury. Surgery. Permanent. 

The boy was back, crawling through the dark in a room Y/n couldn’t make out–was that metal? Hoseok exhaled sharply and the scene changed. 

Her mother stood looming with a pill bottle snatched in her hands, and emotions raced through her chest that weren’t her own–desperation, helplessness, self-hatred–trapped. She watched a collection of scenes come forth of Hoseok’s hands grasping whatever her mother tossed at him, and then her giving him a pill as a reward. She felt the relief. She felt the frustration. 

Then she saw something else that had her mouth running dry. 

She saw a view of herself walking out of the woods with Jin at her side, the two of them trailing up the front steps and disappearing into the front doors. After a few minutes she saw Jin leave alone, as though he had dropped her off inside. He was wearing the same outfit he had worn that night at the guest house. 

He let go of her hands once they began to sweat, and pressed them down on his thighs with a shaky sigh. Y/n’s hands lingered in the air for a moment, soaking in what she had seen and running it back through her mind like she was replaying a tape. 

“I don’t expect you to just forgive me. They all caught me up to date with…” He waved one hand in lazily circles. “Everything.” He cleared his throat and dropped his hand back to hang at his side, looking up at her through timid glances. “But I just want to say that I didn’t know what she was–If I had any kinda idea what she was doing with what I was seeing, I wouldn’t’ve done it. Please believe me. I know I shouldn’t have just blindly accepted but I just–” 

“You were hurting.” Y/n cut him off, her eyes trained on her lap. 

Hoseok turned his head down with a nervous twitch, leg shaking faster and his words falling out in a whisper. “Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Hoseok? Tell any of us? Do you think we would have made fun of you?” Y/n finally looked at him–really looked at him. How could she not have put the pieces together? His constant shifting, his tired looking eyes and his body that seemed to sag when he thought no one was looking. 

Hoseok took a second to line up his thoughts in a concise sentiment, clearing his throat again to cover up the slight grit in his tone as it closed. “No….I dunno…maybe.” He smiled at his lap with a humorless chuckle. “Maybe somethin’ in me thought if I kept it a secret then I wouldn’t have to face it. I could keep pretending.” 

“Pretending what?” Y/n scooched to the edge, hesitantly lowering one of her hands down onto his clothed knee. “Hoseok, you have always been one of the most important people in my life. I don’t care if you can’t dance, or if you can’t run–or if the way we spend time together changes entirely. Everyone changes. Look at all of us? We lost one of us entirely, gained someone new, went to school, got jobs, some of us traveled–we grew up. I don’t care how you change, I just wish you would’ve told me. Think about where we could’ve been–the shit we could’ve avoided if you had just been honest.” Y/n took in a deep breath and leveled him with a somber expression. “I’m not…I’m not mad at you for hurting. I’m mad at you for not telling me, and I’m mad at myself for making it feel like you couldn’t and that you had to turn to my mother of all people.” 

Something in Hoseok’s expression snapped, his upper lip curling with heat. “Y/n–let’s be serious here. Would me telling you have really changed that much? Even if you knew–your mom still would’ve been in charge of my insurance, my housing–my fucking job and my parent’s job.” Hoseok blinked aggressively to keep any wetness out of her sight. “I had nothing after you left–my future is fucking wiped, dude. Anything I wanted to do? Trashed. I can’t travel the same way everyone else can, I can’t work the same way they can, I can’t dance the way I used to…my life isn’t over technically sure, but my life as I knew it is. And I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to just embrace that with smiles and jokes yet. The only thing that was made certain to me was that I’m going to get left behind, and I just wanted to delay that as much as I could.” 

Y/n shook her head with a trembling lip and furrowed brows. “We wouldn’t leave you behind–” 

“But you did!” Hoseok cut back, voice cracking ever so slightly. “You literally fuckin’ left and didn’t look back once. I left you messages–so many messages that you never returned. Joon went to California and got to experience life on his own. Jimin just got his masters degree. Jin is set to take his dad’s job by next year and then he can do whatever he wants. Yoongi went off to New York and none of us expected him to come back. The only person who would've stayed with me would be Jungkook, but at least he can choose what job he wants. I’m just…here. Watching everyone else do whatever the fuck they want. 

“So yeah. I’m sorry. I’m sorry your parents made us lie to you. Trust me, I’ve beat myself up for it since the day you left. I’m sorry that your mom held power over me and that I couldn’t stand up for either of us. But we were all raised on the same foundation: ‘No one gets left behind’, and you were the first one to do just the opposite of that–to everyone over something that would’ve also threatened our livelihoods if we had pushed back. I could’ve talked to you? You could’ve talked to us about it first. Jungkook was in therapy for two years after you left with not even as much as a goodbye. Jimin pretty much became an empty shell until he started school. Everyone else dipped.  So what else was I supposed to do Y/n? What was I gonna do, say ‘Hey Mariah, I know you pay for all of my medications and treatments so I can exist barely below baseline function, my parent’s salaries, and all my friends are gone so I have no one else but you to support my care needs if I suddenly woke up bed ridden–but fuck you!’ with no back up plan?” 

Y/n’s mouth fell open in shock, he had never spoken to her like this before, and she couldn’t quell the self-defensive rage that pooled in her belly. 

“I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to be one-hundred percent honest with me,” Hoseok leaned forward to challenge her stare. “If I had showed up on your doorstep in D.C with an apology and suitcase, would you have let me in? If I told you about this, would you have forgiven me and helped take care of me, or slammed the door in my face?” 

Y/n snapped her mouth closed, her gut immediately rushing to answer with a resounding ‘Yes I would have let you in!’, but she paused. Would she have? When she was still nursing the wound their betrayal had left, and her remaining pride was stinging and raw? 

Y/n’s hackles lowered, and she slumped back against the wall again in defeat. “I don’t know.” 

“Exactly. And we all know who my mom’s favorite is…” Hoseok visibly deflated, and ran his fingers through his unruly hair that desperately needed a haircut. “Look, I don’t want to fight about it and compare who was hurt the most. What I’m just trying to get you to understand is that we both made the best choices we could for ourselves at the time we made them. We can’t just pretend the aftermath didn’t happen and that we didn’t hurt each other–but I wouldn’t expect you to apologize for how you handled your shit with the cards you were dealt, so why should I apologize for how I handled mine?”

The question hung in the air between them heavily and Y/n knew she didn’t need to answer. While his words stung–he did have a point. She had no idea what his situation was like, and might not ever understand what he was going through. They might not ever be able to understand where they were each coming from–but could they live with that? 

“So what now?” Y/n asked with a sniff, wiping at her eyes that had become wet. “How do we move past all this?” 

Hoseok shrugged, and chewed on his cheek as he stared at his fingers that twiddled in his lap. “We just do. We can’t fix it, so we just try and do better. I want to try and do better.” 

“Okay.” Y/n breathed, pointing at him with her index finger. “I don’t forgive you just yet, but I understand why you did what you did. From here on out, no more secrets. No more lying and no running away from each other.” 

“I think I can handle that,” Hoseok managed a small lopsided curve of his mouth, and his shoulders visibly sagged with relief. “Fuck–I hated you being mad at me.” 

“I still am.” Y/n gave the most threatening look she could muster, but couldn’t help the smile that tried to break through it. “You still worked with someone that was trying to kill me, and you made me angry. I need to work through all of that still.” 

“I’m booked through the week,” Yoongi suddenly butt in, turning in the chair to face the two of them, “so I think you’re going to have to find a new quack.” 

“Booked? By whom?” The smile did worm its way on her face.

Yoongi removed his headphones entirely and tucked them away in his drawer. Y/n had a sneaking suspicion that there hadn’t been any music playing on them throughout their entire discussion. “M’not sure. They signed their name as the annoying one on my schedule… ” 

Y/n snapped a finger in mock disappointment and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Damn–couldn’t be me. You won’t even have ten minutes for little ‘ol me?” 

Yoongi slid his tongue across his lower lip before sinking his teeth into it with a playful smile and a wink. “Hmm…maybe if you ask nicely I’ll think about it.” With that he stood with an exaggerated stretch, earning a few pops from undisclosed locations. “Now that that is out of the way…” He picked up the chair and turned it to face them, plopping down next to Hoseok. “Let’s call the other guys back in to talk ghosts.” 

_________________________________________

Y/n felt stupid. So utterly stupid and used.

The six of them sat in a circle on Yoongi’s floor with intertwined hands, their first time as a full group doing a seance. This time they had Hoseok take the lead, using his powers to prod her mind (with consent of course) for her final memories on Thursday–forcing herself to watch her make terrible mistake after terrible mistake. 

Her memories were beamed into their skulls, and they all watched as Y/n glowed in humiliation as she tossed her incense out the window on the call with Yoongi, how she isolated herself–how she let in some random fucking ghost from the hallway like an amatuer. And to make that worse, they hadn’t been able to gather any useful information from the interaction whatsoever. 

They moved on to trying to pull Candida out of hiding to expel her entirely, but that remained a futile effort as she eluded them, disappearing into the deepest crevices of her mind and staying there. They sleuthed out her memories of seeing her–her bathroom, the ceiling lights, doorknobs, glass, the greenhouse…

Hoseok had almost replayed the mirages of violence and death from the greenhouse when she had begged them to take a break–she didn’t think she had the energy left in her to watch it again. She barely had the energy to hold her own head up despite having been in and out of consciousness for two weeks. 

It was so hard to describe–it was like she was looking back at those memories and the choices she had made from outside of her body. She couldn’t even fathom not telling them if she saw something now, or making the choices she did. 

She guessed that’s what possession was like. 

Nothing would have prepared her for the devastation she felt when they let her run back to her room with Jungkook and Jimin by her side for her phone charger, only to find a few of her plants smaller and more sickly than she remembered, their colorful pots nowhere in sight. Jimin tried to soothe her with warm embraces and comfortnig words of how Namjoon had been nursing them back to health with what snippets he had been able to salvage–but her Aloe and her African violet hadn’t made it. That felt like almost her final straw. 

She might need a few business days just to recover from…recovering. 

Hell, she still hadn’t even gotten to properly greet Yoongi. 

They ate dinner in Yoongi’s room much to his mild annoyance. With Y/n being informed that Seokjin had taken time off to go on a vacation with his parents, and her mother and father had mysteriously left for a work trip with little explanation, there was no need to eat in the dining room. They suspected it had to do with Hoseok joining their side and thus losing one of her accomplices. This made it easy for Namjoon to lie about Y/n’s attendance at work, which he shyly admitted he had been clocking in for her so she wouldn’t lose her paycheck or get terminated while she was out–something that had her gratitude growing exponentially.

Y/n wished she had the energy to revel in the fact that they were all eating dinner together again, messing around and tossing jests from tired mouths and weary eyes like soldiers that had returned from battle. Her head had slumped onto Jimin’s shoulder before she knew it, letting it rest there with her plate practically licked clean next to her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been until Jungkook and Jimin had brought up their makeshift pasta creation still steaming and fresh. It had only lasted a few minutes before her hungry eyes were set on it.

When the conversation had slowed, she remembered what the spirits had used as leverage to build resentment and distrust: her friend's shady behavior that she had yet to get any answer for. 

“What were you guys even doing the whole time I was going insane?” Y/n suddenly asked, her sleepiness making her straightforward, her thoughts uncensored. “I know I was stupid for letting myself get that fucked up, but you guys sneaking around and hiding things from me definitely added fuel to the fire.” 

Hoseok held his hands up in surrender, pushing the desk chair back to roll a foot away from the rest of them. “Don’t look at me–that’s something I wasn’t a part of yet.” 

Namjoon gave him a mild glare that melted into a sheepish smile towards Y/n. “We were trying to figure out a way to help you, but you were…inhabited Y/n. Compromised. If we had gone to you with our plan, Candida might have been able to prepare herself or fight back–make you lash out even or hurt yourself to protect her. We couldn’t risk it.” 

“Oh…” Y/n looked down with warm cheeks at her own idiocy. Of course that made sense. It made perfect sense–Christ why hadn’t she just trusted them??

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Yoongi chastised her with a knowing glint. “Trust me, we are all well aware that you were not yourself.” 

“What did you find?” She inquired, trying to shift the conversation into a one with a silver lining, before backtracking when they shared an apprehensive look. “Wait–never mind. If she’s still in here then–” 

“Bear has a few ideas. Some of which helped us make you cognizant–he says he’s sorry by the way. But he can’t risk his safety just yet.” Jimin offered with a kind smile, one arm lifting up and over her shoulders to hold her in place against his side casually. “He says he dealt with something similar before.” 

“Is there anything I can offer to help? I know her pretty well now unfortunately…” Y/n looked to each of them, hoping they could find something for her to do.  She couldn’t stand sitting around and doing nothing. 

Yoongi dropped his mostly cleared plate down onto his desk on top of  Hoseok’s, pushing the stack towards the edge so Jimin could add the both of theirs to the pile. “Well actually maybe there is. Bear said we need something to get her attention. Between you and Hoseok I’m sure we can make a good bet as to what that could be.” 

“She liked music and the theater. Ballet.” Hoseok twitched in his seat uncomfortably, one hand coming to scratch at the spot behind his ear. “But she’s…she’s messy. Never a straight train of thought–her brain is scattered like a squashed bug. I’m lucky if she gives me a coherent thought  that lasts longer than a few seconds.” 

Y/n pondered his antidote, and thought over her own experience with the woman. She had never felt anything positive about anything–only negativity. “I honestly have no clue. She is only ever pissed when I see her.” 

“Well pissed attention is still attention.” Yoongi shrugged with a sigh. “Let us keep brainstorming. You can offer ideas as they come to you but we can’t have you getting too riled up. We don’t want it triggering anything.” Though his dark eyes narrowed at her with one final warning. “But if something starts bothering you, you need to tell us this time. You can’t let it push everyone out.”

Y/n stifled a yawn and resigned to her fate of taking the backseat for the time being, knowing she full well deserved the light scolding. She couldn’t deny how appealing it sounded to just focus on relaxing and giving all of this a rest after her previous week. Her parents being gone lowered the stakes for the moment as well. She’d be a fool not to take some time to recoup so they could come back swinging harder than ever with their new and returned allies.

“You should sleep.” Jungkook remarked, a challenging quirk of his brow ticking upwards. 

“I’m not going to fight you on that this time.” Y/n slumped back down on Jimin’s shoulder with a sigh. “Are the wards back up in my room so I can try and fix it up?” 

“Not quite. We came to the unanimous decision that you should probably camp with someone in the evenings, in case Candida or that other nasty bastard tries to try anything when you’re alone.” Yoongi stretched back over his chair, grabbing the remaining plates and ambling towards his door to return them to the kitchen. “You can choose where you want to go.” 

Y/n didn’t know what had possessed her that evening to choose the roommate she did. Her first instinct had been to choose to remain in Yoongi’s room as it had grown familiar to her, and she already had her basic necessities tucked in a bag in the corner of his room and waiting (courtesy of Jimin).  But the guilt of taking up his space for another night after supposedly crashing there for two weeks was too strong, and thus she moved onto her next choice.

Jimin would be the obvious answer–except he was currently housing Bear on his desk, and it might put Bear’s safety in jeopardy for her to invade his safe space like that until they knew for sure that Candida wasn’t an active threat. 

Something in her gut pulled her answer from deep within, guiding her with dragging feet and her toiletry and clothes bag tossed over one shoulder and a pillow cradled against her side kept in place with her elbow, trailing after Namjoon across the landing into the left hall. He bid his farewell to her once he dropped her off at her destination, shutting the door softly behind her and wishing her a goodnight. 

Y/n waited, frozen in place near Jungkook’s door in his dark bedroom for him to make his way through the attic and onto the terrace to join them. She hovered in front of his shelf by the door, too nervous to touch anything or to make herself comfortable until he gave her the direction to. Butterflies erupted in her stomach like this was a sleepover at a friends house she had never been to–nerves tickling at her and making her wonder if she had made the wrong choice. They were still on strange terms as well. To distract herself from her discomfort, she let her eyes take in his room that had grown and changed often over the years. But one thing remained the same. 

His room was spotless as always, dusted and vacuumed with his bedding freshly washed and tucked neatly around the edges. A little R2D2 wax warmer emitted a cerulean blue light from its base, illuminating the dark space enough to map out his furniture–she was too preoccupied with anxiety to finger through his belongings and turn on one of the many small lamps littered about his space in fear of messing up his meticulous organization. He never really cared for the overhead lights even when he was a kid. 

Y/n jumped as the terrace door clicked open and Jungkook slipped in, closing and locking the bolt behind him. His eyes quickly found her in the dimly lit room, his confusion clearly outlined in the blue light. 

The expression never left his face as he stepped by her, close enough for her to feel the heat from his side as he reached an arm over her shoulder to flick on a small warm toned mood lamp, one eyebrow poised in a silent question at her hesitancy as he did so. 

“Where should I…?” Y/n gestured to the bag on her shoulder and the pillow tucked under her arm.  

Jungkook grunted, and gave her the tiniest of shrugs. “Wherever.” 

Y/n took slow steps to his desk, plopping her bag onto the chair and unzipping it to fish for her toothbrush and a pair of sleep shorts, taking both in hand and disappearing into his bathroom wordlessly, shutting the door behind her just enough to offer them both a bit of privacy but not latched. She didn’t want to be completely alone. 

She avoided any eye contact with the mirror–even if Candida was laying low, it didn’t mean that the risk was none. Slipping on the shorts she opened the door a few more inches to hopefully let Jungkook know that he could come in if he needed to, and started the task of brushing her teeth. 

Jungkook peeked his head in first, making sure she was decent before sidling in the tiny bathroom to join her. They stood side by side in a heavy silence, the chorus of toothbrush scraping against teeth accompanied by the occasional spit was the only sound heard. Y/n almost found herself enjoying the silence and domesticity of the interaction, save for the two of them sharing awkward stolen glances through the mirror until she padded back into the main room and lingered by his desk for further instruction.

Y/n watched him through the open door,  wiping his mouth off and cleaning the sink of water droplets with a fresh cloth. His hair had gotten longer since she had arrived, and was almost due for a trim if the way he kept pushing it back behind his ears with a sharp exhale through his nose was anything to go by. As if his senses could feel her eyes on him (actually a probable conclusion she realized with a start), he found hers through the doorway and hurried his motions, tossing the towel in his laundry basket and reentering his room. 

“Are we blowing up one of the air mattresses for me to sleep on? Or am I just crashing on the floor like old times?” Y/n shuffled from one foot to the other, hugging her pillow to her chest, observing his head disappearing into his closet. 

Jungkook recoiled from the shelves and looked at her like she had just said something outlandish, blinking at her with blank eyes as he registered what she had said. “Neither.” He disappeared into his closet, retrieving an air mattress bag and turning to the space she was standing, crouching beside her to plug the pump in. “You can take my bed.” 

“I’d feel better if I didn’t.” Y/n shook her head with a nervous chuckle, stepping aside as he shooed her to make room for the mattress. “I’ll just take the airbed.” 

Jungkook sat back on his heels to give her an unyielding glare. “No.”

Y/n returned it, taking a step closer to the terrace door to give him more space. “Yes. I won’t let you give me your bed. Especially when you wake up earlier than me for work.” 

“Too bad.” Jungkook shrugged plainly, flipping the pump on with a small smirk to drown out her protests with its deafening whirring. When she tried to complain over the noise, he brought one tattooed finger up to his ear and shook his head, before pointing down to the pump with a shrug. 

Y/n gave him a deadpan stare to cover up the fact that her mind was already hatching a plan of her own while she monitored the expanding fabric of the air mattress rising until it reached just below her knees. When he finally flipped the switch off, the silence that enveloped them felt deafening in comparison to the grating pump that still left her ears ringing. She kept her composure while helping him tuck the edges of the fitted sheet over the rounded corners, and even when her turned away from her to poke through his closet for a spare blanket. 

Jungkook fluffed the fabric out to rid it of any dust, then tossed it up to fall onto the mattress. However while the blanket was still suspended in the air, Y/n dove head first onto the airbed, snuggling up to her pillow and spreading herself over it with a satisfactory sigh, pulling the comforter up to her chin to stifle a laugh as it fell onto her. She could practically feel his irritation ebbing from where he stood and made the conscious effort to push his buttons a little further. 

“Ahh yes. Perfect. Thank you for making my bed for me, Kook.” She snuggled down into the blanket and looked up at him with a mischievous smile that rounded out her cheeks. 

Jungkook’s stare was blank as he cast it down to her, his lips pressed into a thin line that threatened to give way into the smallest of smiles. 

“No.” 

Without warning, he wrenched the blanket from her grasp, both of her hands coming up to make a grab for it which he snatched up in his hold, using the tight grip to hoist her up to her feet with enough force to send her careening forward onto his bed with an audible ‘oof’. She rolled over just in time to see him smirking at her while reclined victoriously on the airbed, looking as proud as ever.

“Ugh. You’re such a pain in my ass sometimes.” Y/n groaned, flopping back onto his mattress in defeat. 

Jungkook licked his lips, his eyes glinting in the low light at her. “Same goes for you.” 

Y/n grumbled to herself, knowing full well the moment his physical strength was added into the equation, she was surely to lose. She crawled under his covers and settled herself down–not before tossing his pillow at his face with full intent for it to collide with it, but his hands were too quick, catching it just before it landed its blow. 

He fluffed the cushion placing it neatly where hers had been, then he leaned forwards with hers held out in what seemed like a peace offering. She took it from his grasp and shoved her head down into its comfortable embrace, sinking into his mattress and tugging the comforter up and over herself. 

She would never admit to him that it was actually more comfortable than the airbed. 

Jungkook turned off the lamp, blanketing them into darkness that was only broken up by the wax warmer, which he promptly powered down as well. The air mattress let out a few final groans while he made himself comfortable, stopping only when he had situated himself and his breathing had started to even out. 

She listened to his breath, counting along to each inhale and exhale in her head, seconds turning to minutes until she couldn’t be sure how much time had passed. For someone that had been so unbelievably exhausted before, she sure couldn’t find where that feeling had gone now that she had her head resting against a pillow and her eyes squeezed shut. 

Perhaps it had been chased out by the unease that crawled up her throat and settled itself in her chest, making her heart pound and her eyes dart along each shadow's edge at any sudden sound from outside on the terrace. The day was catching up to her–as were the days before she had lost consciousness. Everything was swirling about and sending her nervous system into overdrive; relief, fear, guilt, shame, uncertainty for what was to come. 

Y/n cast a cursory glance down to the mirror above his dresser, and barely caught what could have maybe been a flash of gold that moved too quick for her to truly tell. Her heart hammered in her throat, and for half a second she entertained the idea of trying to ignore it–of forcing her eyes closed and counting down from a hundred until she succumbed. Though thoughts of today resurfaced, reminding her of how the isolation had only fed into her power, the more fear Candida could elicit, the more power she held over Y/n. To keep anything like what had happened before from happening again, she needed to do the exact opposite of what her fear wanted her to do.

“Jungkook?” Y/n whispered softly into the dark. 

There was a soft creak of the airbed, then his response came shortly after. “Hmm?” 

Y/n swallowed through the tightness in her throat that told her to just leave it–to handle it on her own. “I think I saw…I might’ve…She…” God she sounded pathetic. Why couldn’t she just spit it out?

Jungkook didn’t seem to mind that though, appearing to understand what she was trying to force out of her mouth without any further need for explanation. The air bed gave a much louder groan and she heard his feet moving swiftly around the end of the bed before the R2D2 wax warmer clicked back on, the soft blue glow dim enough not to hurt their eyes but light enough to make her feel comforted by it. 

“Where?” 

“The mirror.” Y/n pointed a shaky finger at it. 

Jungkook peered at his own reflection, examining every inch of the room through its reflective picture. Once satisfied with his examination, he pivoted back to her with a shake of his head. “She’s not there.” 

Y/n wanted to cry again. It wasn’t his fault–but it didn’t make her feel any less crazy. She almost wished he could see her–because then it meant he would be able to punch her in the face if he did. 

“O-okay.” Y/n kicked herself for how weak she sounded. It was obvious with just a single word that she was crying. 

Jungkook stood still, undecided on what he should do before deciding on his new favorite offer he seemed to always have at the ready. “Do you want me to get Jimin?” 

Y/n sat up, observing the way he stood uncomfortably by the mirror with a vaguely worried expression. She genuinely pondered his question, only finding one answer. She should. She should want him to get Jimin. And on one hand she kind of did–Jimin always managed to make her feel even the slightest bit better by just his presence alone. But it dawned on her that it wasn’t Jimin’s presence that she necessarily craved at the moment. It was Jungkook’s. 

“No,” Y/n shook her head, sitting up and pulling back the covers enough to swing her legs out to dangle over the edge. All of her shame seemed to leave her body in the face of fear. She plucked her pillow up and held it on her lap, sliding down off the mattress and onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook moved to step in front of her, blocking the path towards the air mattress to keep her from swapping their pillows. 

Y/n looked up at him and took in a steadying deep breath, holding their eye contact even when her face burned with heat. “I want to lay with you for a bit. If that’s okay…” 

Jungkook made no motion to move, not for what Y/n could’ve easily believed to be a few minutes. When he did, it was in the form of his hands guiding her shoulders to walk back to his bed until the backs of her knees hit the edge, forcing her to sit on it. 

“Wait here.” 

He left to the other side of the room, returning not seconds later with his pillow under his arm which he placed next to hers. Y/n let herself be guided into a reclined position and listened accordingly when Jungkook directed her to scooch to the other end to make room for him. 

Jungkook joined her not long after, laying next to her with his body stiff as a board, leaving as much distance between them as possible on the wide mattress. With bravery only the dark could give her, she reached for his arm, sliding her fingertips down the skin until she found his hand to interlace their fingers and brought them both up to rest against the skin of her cheek that was still damp. 

“Thank you.” Y/n whispered to him, letting her eyelids slip shut. 

He didn’t answer, but he did shift closer–if only marginally so–their hands now able to lay more comfortably between them without his elbow being bent at an awkward angle. Candida’s golden eyes felt more like a memory now, not a reality. Not when his skin was warm against hers, and his breathing lulled her into the early edges of sleep. 

She could’ve sworn that she had heard his heartbeat too during the last few moments of consciousness–but that would have meant he would’ve had to have moved closer–and that the soft fabric against her face wasn’t her pillow. Because she couldn’t remember her pillow having the ability to breathe. 

_________________________________________

The days went by in a much similar manner to how they had when she first arrived–only in some strange turn of events–almost better than when she had first arrived; even with Candida lurking in the corners of her mind, only showing her face occasionally in mirrors and window panes. Her image held little power over her at the current moment when she was surrounded by more of her friends than ever before. This new phase felt…freeing–even with it hanging on a delicate balance of whether or not it could escalate at any moment. This was the closest to normal she had felt. 

With her parents gone and Jin on vacation, there was no hiding. Bear was in charge of the cameras, blipping them out on command so they could scurry from dining room to landing, or bedroom to bedroom without having to make Jungkook trump through the attic. She wasn’t ready to go back to the greenhouse just yet, so her mornings were spent passing the time in Jimin’s office with Tree and Arrow when he was called off to give a tour. 

It was nice to get to know a ghost that didn’t want to kill her–she would even go as far as to call it fascinating. She grew a habit of grabbing snickers bars from the hotel lobby and sneaking them to Tree when Jimin wasn’t looking (Jimin believed he was becoming too spoiled, and disapproved of the excess in treats she was supplying). If she had the time, she would read books from Jimin’s shelf aloud to Sergeant–and as pages turned to chapters she would swear one some occasions that a faint fuzzy outline of his shoulders would appear on one of the armchairs, paired with the soft puffs of breath that escaped his mouth while he listened intently. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was expanding Arrow’s music taste with a few records she was able to swipe from her room.

Speaking of her room, it was still a force to be reckoned with. Yoongi and Namjoon proposed that they leave her room in disarray as a means to look for more clues into Candida’s behavior, but they could not tell her exactly what they were looking for in case it triggered another ‘episode’. Thus she was on a need to know basis when it came to their plans, their group chat alive and well again (and increasing in size) as their main form of communication. It was usually used as casual communication, or to ask Y/n vague and inconspicuous questions (read: suspicious, especially if they were from Namjoon) about her day to day experience. 

In the afternoons, she would eat lunch with Hoseok in his car in the historical society parking lot before trading off with Jungkook when he got off of work to reestablish their daily walks along the trails. Dinner was the most nostalgic event in her opinion; a race against time as they slipped from room to room at just the right time to miss the camera signals. Her and Jungkook had somehow gotten into the habit of seeing who could make it from one room to the next in the sneakiest manner while Jimin manned the walkie, reliving their childhood adventures as secret agents. Yoongi did not participate, but insisted on offering pointers on how to ‘increase their stealth level’ from his curled up spot on a dining room chair. It was in those moments when his gummy smile would make a guest appearance and Y/n was reminded of just how long he had been deprived of a relaxed family meal where he wasn’t preoccupied with carefully piecing together a guise of nonchalance and innocence. 

She would finish off the night on an air mattress in someone else's room, usually Jungkook’s or Namjoon’s. Though Namjoon’s was a shot in the dark if the two of them were to actually get any sleep–they were both incapable of keeping their mouths shut and their brains quiet, thus when one would ask a seemingly innocuous question that was swirling about their minds, the other would most certainly respond like a pair of twittering birds until one of them passed out first in the middle of a mumbled sentence. 

The only thing that was left unexplained was Taehyung, who had continued to keep a strong distance from the rest of the house–Y/n wasn’t even sure if he was still around anymore. When her and Jimin had gone to check on him with an invite to join them at the Adelaide for lunch, he was not in his room, and he didn’t answer any of his messages. Y/n was beginning to worry about him…

Thursday morning went about the same as the first half of the week, lazily reclining on Jimin’s loveseat with whatever book her and Sergeant had been working on with her head on Jimin’s lap when he wasn’t busy. That was until her phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

[New Message in The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers]

[Zoltar 🔮]: Who’s babysitting the invasive species? Is she still with Jimin?

[Midass✋🃏]: I’m omw to pick her up for 🍗. What’s up?

[Morning Glory 🌼]: EXCUSE ME????? The WHAT??

[Zoltar 🔮]: Cool. Can you bring her up to the hotel? I’m on floor 11, south side. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: HELLO?? I’m literally right here 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: What’s the field trip for?

[Midass✋🃏]: ✔️🚙💨

[Morning Glory 🌼]:Are you just going to pretend I’m not here or….

[Zoltar 🔮]: You guys hear something? 

[Zoltar 🔮]: I swear it’s like I hear something…

[Morning Glory 🌼]: ME. IT’S ME sending a curse your way. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: If you yawn it means it’s working. 

 [Zoltar 🔮]: Fuck. 

[Zoltar 🔮]: Guys I think I’m cursed. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: 😈😈😈😈

[Zoltar 🔮]: Oh wait

[Zoltar 🔮]: Nvm. Just tired from carrying this team on my back. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: fuck you dude. 

[Zoltar 🔮]: That’s bold of you to say considering you tried to  s t a b  me

[Morning Glory 🌼]: You said you weren’t mad at me for that😢

[Jimin: 👂👻]: Look what you did, now you made her cry 🙁

[Jimin: 👂👻]: <sent a photo> 

[Zoltar 🔮]: I’ve never seen something so fake. This is blackmail. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: No it’s real see

[Morning Glory 🌼]: <sent a photo>

[Zoltar 🔮]: That’s just a close up picture of your eyeball. 

[Zoltar 🔮]: Try harder 🥱

[Jimin: 👂👻]: Do my eyes deceive me, or is he cursed?

 [Midass✋🃏]:🫵😯 CURSED

[Midass✋🃏]: Im outside btw. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: I am becoming too powerful, you must all bow before me. It’s the law I’m afraid 😌. 

[Morning Glory 🌼]: I'll be out in a sec!

[Zoltar 🔮]:  Sorry, I actually forgot how to read so laws don’t apply. Brb. 

Her and Jimin were still giggling by the time they made it out to Hoseok’s car, he was barely able to contain them when he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek with a reminder to text him later when she had the time. 

She waved to Jimin as they pulled out of the lot, flushing hot when he blew her a kiss which she hid from Hoseok by keeping her face out of the open windows in hopes the wind would cool it down. She hoped once this Candida shit was all settled and down, that her and Jimin could sit down and actually discuss what exactly they were–and where The two of them were still relearning how to be natural around each other, but their daily lunches had certainly helped push them in the right direction. They were now able to hold adjacent to normal conversations. 

“So what’s this field trip for? Or am I not allowed to know?” Y/n turned her head towards him, eyeing his profile. 

Hoseok used two fingers to turn the volume of the radio down, shooting her a quick sideways glance when he turned the wheel back onto the private driveway. “I have no clue. Believe it or not, they may trust me to an extent but they aren’t wagging their tails in excitement to tell me what they are up to.” 

Y/n hummed distractedly in acknowledgement, watching the guests putter about the grounds and making the best of their stay, even offering a small tour group that was huddled around a stone plaque near the tree line a shy wave as they passed. 

He left his car in front of the estate, the two of them walking alongside each other towards the back entrance of the hotel, a bag of takeout swinging off Hoseok’s arm and keeping a good amount of space between them. Strange–the distance now suddenly taking on a new meaning to Y/n with the understanding of his...abilities. This dance was becoming cumbersome. How many new secrets and secret abilities was she going to have to adjust to? At this point someone could tell her they could fly and she’d believe it. 

Y/n shook her head at the absurdity of the thought, though it did lead her to a new more interesting one. 

Had Hoseok had his since birth too? They had all been pretty elusive to the specifics of his powers for the time being. And quite frankly after their argument (their second argument to be more specific), she was treading their discussions carefully. But she supposed in order to return to normal, she had to act like it. Fake it till you make it. 

After making it across the lobby, she took the time it took to wait for the elevator as an opportunity to ask a few of her questions. “Hoseok?” 

“Yea?” He whipped his head to her instantaneously, like he had just been waiting for permission to look her way. 

“Have you always been able to do your…” She wiggled her fingers towards his hands. “Thing.” 

Hoseok laughed, the force of it jostling him forward slightly while he fidgeted with his keys in his free hand. “No. They uh…they just showed up after my injury. I think they are related.” 

The golden elevator doors slid open, followed by the inner layer of antique golden lattice peeling back to make room for their entrance. Hoseok followed behind her, using his index finger to hit the button for the eleventh floor. 

“How so?” Y/n felt like she was interrogating him and the bright lights certainly added to that atmosphere.

“Well….I think you're smart enough to figure out I didn’t break my leg by playing tag.” Hoseok’s eyes shook, darting about the small metal box to the beat of the floor numbers dinging passed overhead. 

“Gathered as such.” Y/n nodded. 

Hoseok clicked his tongue a few times, his head twitching to the side as he thought up his next answer. “I can’t tell you too much because I’m not allowed to just yet. But Mr. Brains upstairs thinks that because of how severe my incident was, I could have gotten stuck between worlds, and because I was so close to the other side I took a piece of it with me.” 

A sinking feeling weighed down Y/n’s stomach, and she felt herself subconsciously take a step closer. “How…How close were you?” 

Hoseok gave her a half smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes, blinking his eyes a few times in quick succession. “Let’s just say that I’m lucky to have celebrated as many birthdays as I have.”

There was a ding overhead as the box came to a smooth stop, the doors opening not long after to welcome them into the hall, Hoseok stepping through the second the gap was wide enough. Y/n didn’t need any superpowers to tell he had little interest discussing the topic any further. 

The walls were a spotless cream, accented with wooden panels that came up to roughly hip height. Antique photos and art pieces aged by time hung every few feet to break apart the paint, each piece either made by someone that had lived on the property, or brought over from overseas from the family that existed before them. 

The carpet was red, freshly vacuumed and deodorized as was customary for the cleaning department. There was a cleaning cart parked beside an open room, and Y/n could hear the billowing of linens and the running of water as the worker stormed through it with practiced precision like a well-oiled machine. She found herself humoring the fantasy that it could be Jungkook that was busy turning up the room, but she knew the chances of that were slim when the entire hotel was a possibility.

Though her stomach still flopped dramatically back down in disappointment when it was a much shorter man she saw stuffing the pillows into new cases and not Jungkook’s mop of unruly dark waves. 

They came to a crossroads where the hall split into two opposite directions: one to a completely vacant hall, and the other to a much shorter hall that ended abruptly–signaling that the two rooms on either side were their massive family suites that took up the space that would otherwise be more hallway and rooms. Taking up the entire walkway between the walls lined with numbered doors was a silver ladder parked and balanced against the back wall so the person on it would have easy access to the air conditioning unit up near the ceiling. 

Yoongi had one leg propped on the top and the other a few steps down, the sleeves of his red workman’s overalls rolled up to his elbows and a screwdriver wedged between his teeth as nimble fingers fiddled with the internal pieces of the unit he had taken the front off of. On cue, he twisted his head to greet her, nodding at their arrival. 

He plucked the tool from his mouth and gave her a lopsided grin that showed his teeth. “Well, well, well–Looks like the garden’s been overgrown. Anyone got any weed killer?” 

“Nope. I’m too strong for the chemical shit.” Y/n chuckled, approaching the bottom of the ladder to get a closer look at his movements looking up at him with a playful smile. “Try harder.” 

Yoongi shook his head with a breathy laugh, reaching into his belt for a rag that he splayed over his hand to wipe at the accumulated dust within the machine. “Oh that’s right I forgot–you are all powerful or whatever bullshit you typed out with those meddling fingers of yours.” 

“So what’s the news?” Hoseok interrupted them by leaning his weight on the other end of the ladder and used his thumb to pop open his lunch container. 

Yoongi’s eyes zeroed in on the carton. “You didn’t bring me any?” 

“Did you ask?” Hoseok quipped back up with a raise of his brows, stabbing a fork from the bag into his food and shoveling it into his mouth. 

“You can have some of mine, Yoongs.” Y/n added dismissively and put one hand on the leg of the ladder to peer up into the open machine. “What are you up to?” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Yoongi’s cheeks flushed the faintest of pink, and he followed her eyes up to the machine. “Just cleaning it. Someone reported that this one was rattling a lot, so some kid probably threw something in it. Just got to find whatever it was. ”

Y/n hummed while grabbing for her own meal, cracking open the lid and revealing her meal to the both of them. She took a bite while he fished his hand through the cracks in the machine for anything out of the ordinary.

“I asked you two to come up here because I wanted to talk to you about tonight.” 

Y/n swallowed her bite quickly so she could respond, wracking her brain for whatever it was he was referring to. “What about tonight?” 

“Exactly that.” Yoongi brought his hands out from the machine with a crease forming between his brow as he raked his eyes over it one more time, then he dropped the rag in defeat and lowered himself down two rungs so he could crouch to her height. He looked at her expectantly, one eyebrow higher than the other and a cheeky smile ghosting his face. When she stared blankly at him, he licked his lips and gestured towards her food. “You said you’d share, Miss Glory.” 

Y/n’s cheeks glowed with heat, and she fumbled with the bag for a spare fork but found none. Not wanting to leave him hanging, she skewered through a piece of roasted broccoli with her own fork and held it up to his lips to take. His cheeky persona faltered momentarily, his eyes flickering down from her eyes to the fork and back to her eyes like he was asking for permission. 

“Go on then, don’t take all day.” Y/n moved the bite closer and he parted his lips to take it, his ears twinged pink and his eyes never once leaving hers.

He coughed into the side of his fist while he chewed, breaking their eye contact to flit his eyes around the hall before regaining his composure. “Tonight we are meeting up in your room for seven. Try to get there early and wear something comfortable.”

“You couldn’t text that?” Hoseok whined from beside her around his meal. 

“Nope.” Yoongi paused, eyes tracking her next bite that she put into her own mouth. “Because I need to take her phone.” 

Y/n made a noise of surprise around her food, eyes widening at him. “My phone?” 

“Yeah. It’s just a precaution.” He shrugged, wetting his lips again as with his eyes trained on a piece of chicken in her container. 

Y/n took the hint, and prepared another bite with both chicken and vegetable on it, holding it up for him to take. He did so without hesitation this time, his tongue peeking out briefly to catch it. Y/n didn’t understand why the interaction had her short circuiting and her heart fluttering in her chest encouraging the spread of heat–but it sure did. 

“How will I know what time it is then?” She kept her tone in check, not wanting to expose herself anymore than she already could be to his perceptive eyes. 

“Don’t be silly,” He tsked. “ You’ll have the kid.” 

Y/n handed him her meal to continue eating from as he talked softly with Hoseok about his day, while she was much more interested in the sweet treat Hoseok undoubtedly grabbed as per usual. She found the smaller carton and her mouth watered at the sight of chocolate and raspberry cake–and of course, tucked in the lip of the dessert container was the extra fork. Well, it was too late now. 

Hoseok’s fork immediately dove in from beside her, swiping a large forkful of cake with a giggle. 

“Rude! Not my first bite!” Y/n glared at him, the action nearly costing her the entire slice when Yoongi attacked from the right with his own fork, taking one of the raspberries from the top with it. “Oh–my god!” Y/n took a defensive step back to dodge any further swipes with a shake of her head. She gave them the most offended look she could muster. “It’s like you guys don’t even care about me!” 

The two of them snickered at their own mischief, and Y/n finally gathered the perfect bite on her fork. “Assholes” She was sure to grab the prettiest looking raspberry and pop it into her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on Yoongi’s as she did so. His eyes took on a look that was indecipherable, and he wet his lower lip almost subconsciously, eyes lingering on what she could almost believe was he mouth long after the berry disappeared. 

They finished their meal with Yoongi, and as instructed she left her phone with him in one of his dozen pockets when she and Hoseok started back towards the lobby. Hoseok was trailing behind her for most of it, and when he thought she wasn’t looking he would grimace–something she didn’t miss from the corner of her eye. 

“Do you need me to slow down?” Y/n’s question startled him, his mouth partially open in an unfinished response. “You look like you might be having a bad day. I can slow down if I’m walking too fast.” 

Hoseok chewed on his cheek in contemplation, but nodded nonetheless, letting his pace slow. She matched it all the way to the elevator, and this time he got in first and rushed to stand at the opposite end, waiting until she was nestled inside to tap the lobby button. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Hoseok coughed, adjusting his jacket over his short sleeve button down. 

“What?” Y/n tilted her head in confusion. 

Hoseok turned his face to look at her. “Slow down.” 

Y/n scoffed and made a face at him. “Whatever. I’ll do it if I want to. I don’t mind.” She took a half step closer to him, the gap having gone from a full foot to only a few inches. “If something hurts for you, we can find a way to do it differently so it doesn’t.” 

Hoseok didn’t respond, but she could feel the weight her words held in the air between them. She inched closer once more, their arms only a breath away from touching, and there was no way he couldn’t feel her hovering presence.

“Can you control it?” She asked softly.

“Sometimes.” He choked out. 

“Sometimes?” Y/n looked down at his hand that hung between them. “How about right now?” 

He tipped his head to her, swallowing thickly. “I could try.” 

Y/n took that as permission, testing the waters with her middle finger first, letting it brush against his knuckles. He took in a deep breath through his nose but didn’t pull away. Her index and ring finger followed after, weaving between his and holding them gingerly in her own. “Just because we are in a bit of a funk right now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. We can navigate your pain together, yeah?” 

“You say that now. But when it becomes inconvenient I don’t think you’ll be saying the same thing.” Hoseok ran his thumb over hers, just barely so. 

“I think I will be.” Y/n shrugged, taking the plunge and resting her head in his shoulder for the last few seconds before the doors opened. “There’s plenty of trouble we can get into together that doesn’t involve a lot of walking.” 

“Like?” Hoseok snorted. 

The elevator started to slow, pushing Y/n to spit out whatever word vomit she could before the doors opened, ticking each one off on her fingers as she went. “Quilting? Sewing? Get a fish tank and watch the fish swim around. We could have Yoongi give us painting lessons. I could teach you to crochet–or we could learn a smaller instrument together–both sound fun! We could get you a wheelchair that I can push around and decorate so it looks cool. Develop the biggest board game collection imaginable and be those people that host game nights every other week. The possibilities are endless, we just have to be creative.” 

During her spiel, the doors had opened but neither of them made any moves to leave yet. Hoseok stared at her with glistening eyes that threatened to spill. The doors shut again, and they stood like that for a few beats while Hoseok tried to control his breathing. Y/n had begun to wonder if she had pushed the topic too far and too quickly after a few breaths. Should she apologize?

After what felt like an eternity he cleared his throat and tapped the button to open the doors with a quick wipe of his sleeve across the tip of his nose. “That sounds…fun.”

“Yeah?” Y/n followed him out into the lobby, their hands still loosely connected. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok kept his eyes forward and out of her sight. “Fun.” 

_________________________________________

Y/n had no idea what time it was. 

With no phone she was relying solely on Jungkook to make sure they got back to his room in time to change before heading over to her room. Jungkook was nothing if not punctual, and had them back in his room by five to give her time to change and prepare for whatever it was they were planning. His demeanor was quiet and reserved, like he was compartmentalizing himself for the evening, thus only furthering her unease about whatever was to come.

It didn’t help that for the past ten minutes, Jungkook’s were darting from his phone and back to her like he was waiting for something. Waiting for a sign that she had no clue on. 

Something stirred within her with the rising anticipation of the mysterious endeavor. Something that felt all too familiar and suffocating, like a cold hand danced its dainty fingers on the strings of her mind and had begun to pluck and pull on them–moving them this way and that against her will. 

Candida. 

Y/n didn’t wait around once the first wave of goosebumps cascaded down her limbs, ripping open the bathroom door that separated her from where Jungkook sat on his bed waiting. She came on hard and fast, bringing a torrential wave of anxiety and panic with her that Jungkook must’ve been able to feel from across the room, as he had leapt from the bed the second the door opened. 

“She’s–she’s here. I can feel her–” Y/n went to close the distance between them, but the tightness in chest had her stopping against her will. 

Jungkook’s expression firmed to stone and he discarded his phone onto his mattress to let it bounce down to the floor before he lunged at her, hoisting her up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and out his door. 

“What the fuck are you–wait–aren’t we supposed to be going to my room?!” Y/n grasped for the fabric of his shirt, her stomach churning as she swung to the side when he turned left to go further down the hall instead of right. 

He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t see his face to get any sort of information from either. 

“Jungkook!” Y/n tried again, feeling herself grow more frantic. “What’s happening?” 

They stopped in front of Jimin’s door that opened almost immediately, welcoming the two of them into his pitch black room and shutting the door and the remaining light from it. 

Her feet touched the ground, and then Jungkook was gone. His dark attire made it easy for him to disappear into the darkness of the room that her eyes could not see through. 

“Guys? What’s going on…You’re freaking me out…” 

She could hear someone breathing–or maybe it was the sound her own breath, she couldn’t be sure. The darkness was beginning to warp her mind and feed into Candida’s power, her pulse skyrocketing and her head beginning to throb. 

Match struck box, and a small flame lit up Yoongi’s face close to the floor–then four more strikes; all of her friends' faces lit up by the matches they pinched between their fingers to light a ring of candles around her feet as fast as they could. In seconds she was surrounded, and the matches were snuffed out to leave the burning candles in their place. 

In front of her was a wooden desk chair with an oblong shape propped in the seat, shrouded by a black cloth and placed within the circle of flame. Her friends stayed outside the line, crouched close to the floor where Y/n could barely make out a collection of salt, crystals, and sigils she didn’t recognize. 

“Candida Wörner,” Yoongi spoke first, eyes cold and narrowed on her. “I call you forwards into the circle to show yourself.” 

Y/n’s stomach lurched with the overpowering urge to vomit as the invisible sensation of ice-cold water pouring over her skin and seeping into her skin pulled a yelp from her mouth. The water moved with lithe, calculated movements through her system, striking and prodding in places that felt tender to touch. In an immediate response, her lungs stopped expanding mid breath–staying frozen in place. Her hands clawed at her throat as she struggled to breathe in, her own body not listening to the commands, her skin cold to the touch beneath her fingertips. 

“If you cause a scene, we will not hesitate to use force.” Yoongi continued stalking each movement her body made and every breath she missed. 

Her hold did not lessen even when Y/n’s lungs started to burn from lack of air and her chest twitched with uncontrollable coughs. Namjoon’s voice started droning on from the darkness of the room in swirly prose that Y/n’s thundering heartbeat snuffed out entirely. Rage that felt like it was from outside her own body brewed deep in her belly and came ripping out of her throat with a high pitched shriek. 

Y/n still choked, gasping around nothing for air that would not come–like her lungs had been turned to stone or removed from her insides entirely. She fell to her knees as her legs grew weak, her limbs quaking from lack of oxygen. 

“She can’t breathe!” Jungkook hissed from outside the circle somewhere to her right. Y/n spun in search of him–to hold or to hit she wasn’t sure. Her mind was not her own. However her vision grew too fuzzy for her to see anything clearly in the low light, and Jungkook did not step forwards when she tried to call for him. 

Namjoon’s voice grew louder and Y/n’s felt as though her skull might splinter open, and her eyes might explode from the built up pressure behind them. Yoongi  barked commands to the others that stood just out of sight. “Here she comes! Start the second phase–now!” 

 Jungkook leapt into the circle with Hoseok hot on his tail, the latter disappearing behind the oblong object with his fingers buried in the cloth, waiting for further command to remove it. Jungkook stood over her, and she watched as his brown eyes melted to black and his hands came up to press on either side of her face. 

“Candida Wörner, I command you to come to the surface. Show yourself to me.” 

Y/n gargled, one of her hands trembling in a desperate grab for his wrists–she needed to breathe or else she wasn’t going to last very long. Voices swirled about her mind, hissing and snapping their jaws at her with accusations aimed at Jungkook, their wild grovels for attention trying to blame the pain on the hands that pressed into her cheeks. Jungkook slid one of his hands down to her throat and gripped the side of it, his touch bringing oxygen rushing into her lungs for a few short breaths before the sensation was ripped from her again. 

“No!”  Words scratched from Y/n’s mouth, but they weren’t her own. The voice didn’t belong to her. “He is hurting me!” 

He’s going to kill us! 

Stop him! 

Jungkook’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved, his other hand joining at the base of her throat to let another burst of air into it. If he was hurting her, why did it feel like he was the one letting her breathe? Her skin burned where he touched, and she tried to push him away–no–Candida tried to push him away. Y/n wanted him to stay right where he was. 

Sweat started to surface from every pore of her skin, forming droplets and drying out her lips. She could feel the skin cracking as her mouth stretched in screams of protest as more pain bloomed in her middle like Candida was running her internal organs through a shredder. Her brain was throwing forth the images of Jungkook’s dying face to the forefront of her mind, forcing her to watch the scene over and over again until she started to cry out, begging it to stop. 

“She’s fighting it,” Jungkook spat out through gritted teeth. “She’s hurting her–I can’t-” She could feel his hands starting to slip away. 

Get him off of us! Look what he does to you! Liar! Liar! 

Her mind was screaming at her to hurt him–but she knew not to listen this time. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder to see Yoongi’s that had gone dark like a stormy sea, his hands shaking and his chest heaving, his mouth moving but no words sounded from them. Trust me. 

Y/n took one hand and slid it into Jungkook’s hair, pulling on the strands to keep his attention on her face croaking out her words through battered vocal cords. “Don’t. Don’t let go.” Y/n gave a firm shake of her head–locking their eyes onto one another. “You get her out of me, you understand?” 

Jungkook looked torn, his expression struck with horror. 

“Get her out–I’ll only be okay if you get her out.” Y/n gave one last good tug on his hair, and let her hand drop to the ground as it gave out. 

Jungkook scooped her back up to a standing position from beneath her arms, another set of arms joining in to help him hold her upright. Jimin. 

“Do it now, Hoseok.” Jungkook growled, and in the next second the black cloth was tossed aside, an old looking mirror with a dusted ornate frame sitting proudly out of its covering–looking more terrifying than even the worst creatures hell could birth to her at the moment. 

Jungkook forced her to stand in front of it, to take in the reflection of herself how Candida had made her: like she was on the brink of death. 

A radio sputtered to life, and Yoongi held it up behind the mirror, just outside of the circle. 

“Tantchen, bist du da?” 

Y/n’s body gave a shudder, and she would have fallen forwards if it wasn’t for Jimin and Jungkook holding her upright. 

“Warum hast du deine Kinder getötet, Tantchen?” 

Y/n’s body charged forwards blindly towards the voice, the reflection of her body nearly splitting in half as Candida’s face overlaid her own. 

“Namjoon!” Hoseok tossed something across the room to the man in question, and Y/n heard pages frantically flipping from her left. Namjoon started reciting something in a language she didn’t know, and without warning, Jungkook grabbed for Y/n and pushed her towards the mirror–only it wasn’t her body in his hands. 

With a blood curdling scream, Y/n and Candida were ripped apart from one another–every muscle in her body contracted and spasmed like he had torn her tendons out with her, and she collapsed to the floor in a writhing heap, Jimin softening the blow. Jungkook slammed Candida into the mirror, her body vanishing into its surface almost instantaneously. 

Hoseok and Namjoon ran at the mirror with hands outstretched, Namjoon’s fingers dragging shapes onto the glass with oiled fingers, and Hoseok planted both hands on either side of the frame, squeezing inwards like he was the one keeping her in. 

Namjoon was almost yelling now, but to Y/n it sounded so far away. Candida was thrashing from within the mirror, throwing herself at the glass to escape its confines with her eyes latched on Y/n’s–almost desperate. 

Y/n whined at the residual throbbing sensation in her head, and closed her eyes to block out the candles that now looked too bright. The yelling and banging vanished, as did the smells and the pain. The rushing river from within slowed down to a gentle sway, soothing the stinging wounds Candida’s separation had made. 

All had gone quiet. 

They all waited on baited breath, too hesitant to assume victory already. But when Hoseok covered the mirror with the black cloth once more, the entire room took a shared breath of relief, and Y/n let her head fall back onto the floor. 

Candida was gone. 

_________________________________________

Bear pushed open the Adelaide doors, directing his companions to spread out on all sides–Margaret was assigned to Youngho’s side and took towards the stage. They were to stay out of the situation unless absolutely necessary. 

It was no feat to find Duane, his massive form slumped over the bar counter with empty glasses either smashed or lying on their side from the abuse he had put them through. A mess. His brother was an absolute mess. 

Bear kept his steps light and controlled as he approached his brother, placing a hand onto the countertop a yard or so away. 

“Duane…” The man in question made no move to signify he was cognizant, but Bear tried anyways. “Today is undoubtedly one of the hardest days you will ever have to face,” Bear slid into a stool a few away from his brother, keeping his eyes on him at all time. “But it is also the hardest day for your children. They need you out there–” 

“Do not,” Duane’s voice was muffled by the counter his cheek was squished against. “Do not lecture me on my own children, Bär.” His words were spoken with venom as they peeled from his lips. 

“I am not lecturing. I am advising.” Bear gripped the counter’s edge with his fingers. 

Duane shifted, and his shoulders began to shake. For a moment Bear thought Duane was crying and started forward to comfort him–until the sounds grew faster and louder; he was laughing. Cruel and cold. 

“Advising? You, advising me, Bruder?” Duane raised his nearly empty glass to his lips with a condescending shake of his head. “I would rather die than take advice from you.” 

Bear could feel his blood pressure rising, and grit his teeth to keep from snapping. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Oh but I do,” Duane exhaled as he brought the glass back down to the counter top, twisting the empty glass this way and that as he thought. “You know,” he started with a tone that made Bear’s heart pound, “I always thought that out of anyone else in the world–you would be the one person I could trust more than myself.” 

“Why can’t you?” Bear slid from the barstool in preparation for the blow he knew was building. 

Duane looked at him–eyes drooped and merciless. “Why can’t I?” He took one thick hand and fumbled with his breast pocket, sliding out a folded sheet of paper and sliding it to Bear. 

It was the note Patti had left him that he was sure he had tucked into his pocket after they had left the ballroom. Bear couldn’t move–Couldn’t breathe. 

“Yeah.” Duane stood, stretching up to his full towering height. “I thought so.” 

Bear had a split second to dodge the glass that sailed through the air at deadly speed. He made it just in time for it to whiz by the skin of his ear and explode into thousands of little pieces against the counter where he had just been. 

Duane charged him, all muscle and height with a strength that could tip a bull if they faced head on. But Bear was smaller–faster–and well trained. He ducked under his arms and danced around his figure, dropping to the floor as Duane gripped a stool and both hands and swung it in a circle with the aim to do as much damage as possible. 

Bear had no doubt in his mind that at this moment if given the chance, Duane would kill him. 

Duane may be strong, but the amount of alcohol burrowing through his system slowed him down, giving Bear the upper hand. 

“I’m not going to fight you, Bruder!” Bear leapt back as Duane made another grab for his head and missed, falling sideways onto the bar counter to catch his breath. 

Duane growled under his breath. “You should.” 

“I won’t.” Bear repeated, standing firm. “You are one person I won’t.” 

“You have the nerve to fuckin’ come in here and tell me how to take care of my kids like you know them better than me after stealing my wife’ Duane shook his head, wiping away a spot of drool that had started to fall from the corner of his mouth. “And now you won’t even fight me like a man?” 

“A man is not made by his ability to fight.” Bear shouted back, his temper rising. “And I didn’t steal your wife.” 

“You didn’t? So you just happened to be screwing her while she was married to me?” Duane laughed louder than before. “Who cares about that bitch anyways. She’s dead to me now.” 

Bear’s blood ran cold, and his hands shook with restraint, his voice low and biting. “You don’t mean that. You are just angry with me–call me whatever names you want and throw whatever shit you can get your hands on–but do not talk about her that way.” 

“Then you don’t get to talk about my kids–they are none of your business.” Duane leveled him with an accusatory finger. 

“Your kids?” Bear inquired. “Are you sure about that?” 

Bear let his fists clench and his tongue loosen beyond his control. He couldn’t even give Patti the dignity and respect she deserved on the day of her own funeral. Couldn’t step up as a father for one singular day. All he saw was red. 

Duane cocked his head to the side, a twisted grin taking shape on his face. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Bear couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to watch him burn. 

“Obviously Johan and Dorothea are yours–the timelines wouldn’t make sense for I was off overseas. But Henry…” Bear gave Duane a second to soak in what he was saying. “Henry is where things get convoluted.” 

The room went still. Even the chandeliers that hung far above them seemed to stop their swaying dances. 

Duane was immobile as his eyes glossed over with a dismissive chuckle. But when Bear didn’t back down, his smile slowly wiped from his mouth, and the gears in his head turned over one another in realization. 

“His birthday is November 6th in case you forgot.” Bear huffed, and turned to make his way back to the front door. If he stayed any longer one of them would surely kill the other–two trained killers blinded by rage would surely never end well. 

The breath was forcibly pulled from his lungs as Bear tackled him to the floor, rolling him onto his back to land  a harsh blow to Bear’s face with a curled fist, barely letting it collide with his cheek before charging his next hit. 

Bear let him get a few in, taking them one after the other for the punishment he deserved–but then it was his turn. 

He grabbed for Duane’s neck and used his size against him, careening his already unsteady upper half back so Bear was the one on top. There was a loud crack as Bear’s elbow made contact with Duane’s nose, spurting blood down his chin and seeping down his neck to the floor. Commotion resounded from near the stage, and in a surge of power Duane’s eyes burst open, bulging with rage and nearly golden with wrath in the dimly lit bar. 

In a feat of inhuman strength, Duane sprang forwards and knocked Bear onto his back, both brutish hands coming down on Bear’s throat and squeezing his airways down to slits. Bear looked up at him, defeated and broken–his brother who he had loved more than anything in this world–was killing him. 

One of Bear’s hands came up to grip onto the skin of Duane’s arm as his windpipe started to bend under the force, tears welling in his eyes as he gave one final croak. “Duane…Please…” 

Something in Duane’s expression twitched, but he did not yield. 

A small silver bell clanged violently as it was pummeled into the side of Duane’s skull, Margaret’s fist guiding it into sharp precise hits and creating the perfect distraction for Seonggi and Youngho to rip Duane’s hulking body off of Bear so he could breathe.

“I told you to ring it near his ears, not to bash his head in!” Seonggi hissed as he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Duane’s face like a mask, blocking out his vision of Bear. 

Margaret caught her breath and wiped the metal instrument on the side of her black dress, bending over to offer Bear her other hand. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

“Unbelievable, the lot of you are…” Seonggi grunted out, struggling to hold Duane back. 

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Youngho had both arms locked around Duane’s middle to aid in his restraint, “She did great!” 

Duane snarled from beneath the jacket, his brute strength jerking all three men forwards, nearly escaping with one swift tug. Seonggi’s eyes flashed with worry, bringing his elbow around Duane’s throat to hold him steady. “Bear–Run!” 

Margaret acted first, yanking Bear to his feet and guiding his unsteady gait to the double red doors and out into the lobby. He could hear the jingles start to ring out like a church bell choir from behind them with Duane’s voice calling out over the sounds, louder than Bear thought humanly possible.

“Don’t come back!” Duane tore the suit jacket to shreds, launching the two men off of his arms and back while he blubbered after him. “Go off and fight in ‘nam like a good little soldier–die there for all I care!” Duane’s voice echoed after him even as he sprinted across the lobby. With one final bellow from his brother that vibrated the walls, all of the lights in the lobby flickered, some of them even dying entirely as if to prove his point. “DIE THERE!” 

Bear tore down the front steps after Margaret, kicking up dust and grass as they went. She herded him to a blue rectangular-shaped car in the parking lot, fumbling through her pockets until her fist closed around a set of keys which she promptly tossed his way. “Take my car. Just go–I’ll tell Johan what–”

“No!” Bear cut her off with a gasp. “You can’t tell him what happened–any of them. They mustn't know! It would ruin them…” He was holding back sobs at this point, beggin the young woman in front of him to heed his words. He could feel his throat swelling with bruises already.  

“O-okay! Okay! I won’t,” She grabbed for his other hand and held them both in hers–a promise with shaking hands. “I won’t.” 

“Thank you,” Bear sighed in relief and tore away from her hold, wrenching the car door open and slamming it shut behind him so hard the car shook. He looked up at her from the open window, leaning out with a salute. “You’re going to make one hell of a Wörner.” 

“You come back now,” Margaret squinted down at him with the ghost of a smile. “Johan talks about you too much for you to leave for good–and I do think he should be getting married soon.” 

“Do you now?” Bear turned the engine over with a strained chuckle, feeling it rumble beneath his seat and the yellow headlights lighting up the shrubbery of the woods around them. “I’ll see what I can do then. You’ll tell them I love them for me, won’t you?” 

“I will, but I’m sure they already know.” 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

“Tantchen, bist du da?”: Aunty, are you there?

“Warum hast du deine Kinder getötet, Tantchen?”: Why did you kill your children, Aunty?

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Taglist: @kokoandkookie @rkive-joonie @singdancedreampray @erescheesemelted

[nerdallwritey]

I Want to Live

Summary: He murmured something against your lips. You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?” “I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath.  “Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive. He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.” OR Raphael asks you and Astarion for a favor, which leads to an important conversation.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 14.9k CW: Raphael is a thespian, vulnerable Astarion, Yurgir battle, mentions of killing oneself, Astarion's scars, confessions, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), breeding kink (DADSTARION IS IMPORTANT TO ME), smush (smutty mush) Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 8 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AS I WROTE PART 8!!! I've become the busiest woman in the world - my job came to an end and I just started a new one, I'm in a play that my friend wrote this summer, I'm moving at the end of this month, and my power went out for nearly three days this week. BUT! WE FORGE AHEAD! I hope that you all enjoy this new addition and that it was worth the wait!! I was super excited to write this part and hope I was able to do it justice. Heads up: I am EXTREMELY busy for the next few months, so I'll probably take a mini hiatus from writing this series for a hot minute. I will be back, rest assured! I'm also interested in possibly starting a new series starring my Tav, Birdie! Anyways, I hope this part was worth the wait! It was a blast to write!! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, just as you were about to save Isobel from etheric's henchmen, Raphael whisked you and Astarion away for his own personal needs.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

With a white shock of pain, the cold of the Shadow Cursed Lands crept into your bones, rendering you frozen and disoriented.

What had just happened?

“Astarion?” you called out, remembering that he had been right beside you only a moment ago. “Where are you?”

“I’m here, darling,” you jumped when a pair of cold hands encircled your shoulders before they spun you to look into Astarion’s frantic eyes. He relaxed considerably once he saw your face. “I’m right here.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head a little to kiss one of the hands on your shoulder before looking around. “Any idea where we are?” 

Upon scanning the area, it seemed that you and Astarion were in the middle of the Shadow Cursed Lands, high atop some sort of mountain. You saw what looked to be a heavily trodden path with stairs leading up to this place, surrounded by discarded weapons and pieces of armor. Not far off you spotted flags surrounding what you assumed was a makeshift graveyard. 

Astarion’s eyes followed yours. “If I had to guess, it’s not the Blushing Mermaid.”

In the distance, you saw the roofs of buildings that must have made up the village Jaheira had mentioned. Looking to your left, you spotted the moon shield surrounding the Last Light Inn and witnessed tiny figures flying around the structure, along with blasts of magic from within the building through the windows. You ran towards it to get a better look, your stomach dropping when you realized how far you were from the battle you’d just been so rudely snatched away from.

“Where’s Raphael?” you growled. 

Speaking of the devil, the cambion’s mortal form, which you hadn’t noticed standing at the grand entrance into some sort of temple in the side of the mountain, stepped forward, observing his nails. Behind him, chains hung from the sides of the cliffs and a large door loomed, destroyed, as if whatever had been inside had broken out with a great deal of force.

“Our heroes thought but a treasure ahead,” Raphael said dramatically, “did not consider the peace of the dead. Through the dark they went creeping, and awoke what was sleeping. A new grave they dug, which they themselves fed.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “How long were you skulking there, practicing that rhyme before we saw you?”

“Until it was perfect,” Raphael said matter-of-factly. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know - in my way. I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.”

“You brought us here!” you exclaimed. “We don’t even know where we are!”

“Patience,” Raphael chuckled. “There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature who, like me, is of the infernal persuasion.”

You crossed your arms. “Is this creature as dramatic as you are?”

Raphael smirked, amused by your annoyance. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. When you meet this devil of which I speak,” his tone became deathly serious, “kill it. Consider no other course of action.” 

“Hmm,” Astarion hummed. “There’s something you’re hiding. You’re only telling us half that story. Out with it, devil”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest as well should it remain trapped in the dark.” He grinned viciously. “Or misplace its head, perhaps.”

“Lovely,” you muttered.

“I should not relish its reacquaintance,” Raphael continued. “Let’s leave it at that.” He turned to you with piqued interest. “You have it in you to author a thrilling finale, if…”

“If?” You took a sideways step towards Astarion who instinctively placed his hand on your lower back.

Raphael’s face took on a scowl. “If you heed this warning: Do not underestimate this opponent. At best you will have the blink of an eye to strike.” 

You looked to Astarion who swept a soothing thumb back and forth along the base of your spine.

Raphael’s voice was dripping with venom when he spoke. “Strike first. Strike true. Defy the odds, for they are distinctly in its favor.” He took a breath to settle himself. “That much I owe the bastard orthon to concede.” 

“Okay,” you said cautiously. “And I assume this is about that favor-?”

He laughed and regained his leading-actor-giving-a-monologue stance. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your tale, Astarion.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Astarion said flatly, “considering I only told you about it an hour ago.”

Raphael laughed again, an uproarious, overly dramatic guffaw. “When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that payment enough to translate the scars on your back.”

Astarion nodded his head towards the devil. “A fairer deal than I expected.”

“You wound me, spawn,” Raphael said, not the least bit insulted. “I always deal fairly. And we’ll close this particular deal soon enough - vanquish the beast, and all will be revealed.”

“As great as that sounds,” you said in mock sincerity, “where do we find this beast of yours? You can’t just lead us into the middle of nowhere, give us a task, and expect us to follow through with no other direction! Our friends needed our help back there!” You thrust your arms to your right, over towards the moon shield protecting the inn.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Raphael assured, though it didn’t help you to feel better at all. “But you do raise a fair point. That little Sharran of yours will want to see this place. And I know a shortcut.” “What kind of-”

Before Astarion could finish his sentence, Raphael snapped his fingers again, causing everything to go black once more.

When you were met with the familiar white shock of pain from earlier, you realized Raphael had transported you somewhere new.

“That is not a pleasant feeling,” you said, wiping down your armor to rid yourself of any sulphuric residue. 

“No it is not,” Astarion agreed, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair. “Where the devil are we now?”

“Nice one,” you smirked while looking around.

It seemed that now you were in a temple of some sort, completely made up of purple, gray, and gold marble - stone pillars and staircases and columns sprang up in well calculated spaces, and judging by the atmosphere and the view out into the temple, it appeared that you were now inside the mountain that Raphael had met you outside of. Purple light surrounded you from lit braziers that littered the corners, and multiple large doors gave off an eerie, unwelcoming aura.

“Sharran, for sure,” Astarion wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Look at all the bodies,” you said quietly, observing several skeletons scattered around the staircases. “Do you think they were the Dark Justiciars Jaheira mentioned?”

Astarion approached one and kicked its helmet, which let out a dull thud. “They seem pretty dead to me.”

“Hmm…” You looked around, searching for any sign of this devil Raphael had mentioned. “Do you really think Raphael will keep his word if we kill this orthon?”

Astarion stiffened. “I’d trust a devil over a vampire any day.” 

“That doesn’t bode well for me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “I think he likes us.”

“Do you think he loves-”

“Don’t start,” Astarion snapped with minimal bite.

You laughed. “Unfortunately he can be pretty entertaining. But I’d never say that to his smarmy face.”

“He is rather smarmy, isn’t he?” Astarion smiled. “Perhaps if we kill this orthon extra bloody, he’ll invite us for tea and brandy back in his House.”

“An invitation I eagerly await,” you said in your snootiest voice and mimed holding a tea cup on a saucer. 

Astarion mimicked your snootiness and the two of you “clinked” your imaginary cups together while laughing airily.

“Wait,” you paused in walking along the corridor, suddenly catching a glint of red on the floor. 

Astarion halted at your side. “What?” 

You pointed at the ground. “You tell me, vampire.”

The vampire in question pursed his lips. “I’ve said before that I’m not some bloodhound,” he argued. He took a deep inhale and sagged. “But yes, that is blood.”

“Any idea how fresh?”

He considered. “Not very fresh, but not completely stale either.”

“Well,” you said, wrapping your arm around his bicep, “where there is blood, there are monsters.”

Astarion humphed as you both walked forward, following the tiny speckled trail of blood towards a set of stairs. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Noooo,” you said, reassuringly nuzzling your head against his shoulder, “you’re too full of love to be a monster.”

Astarion shoved you away and you laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We are going to talk,” you said firmly, but not unkindly. “I have things to say to you, too.”

Astarion hunched over dramatically. “Blech. Put me out of my misery first.” 

“Not happening,” you said, approaching him again and lacing your fingers through his. 

He tried to hide it, but you saw the flicked of a smile on his face. 

A sudden flash of black at the bottom of the stairs caught your attention.

A displacer beast.

You and Astarion froze on the stairs, and for a moment, the three of you were locked in an intense stare down. 

Then, she bolted down the hall to the left.

“Hey!” you shouted, detaching yourself from Astarion and jumping off of the stairs. “Come back!”

“Darling!” you heard Astarion shout behind you. “What are you doing?! Be careful!”

The pair of you rushed down another set of steps before following the beast into a chamber to your right. 

“What the hells has been happening here?” you asked, pausing briefly in the doorway, then walking forward cautiously and observing multiple dead bodies and piles of gore.

Astarion exhaled heavily. “So much blood…” He looked up suddenly, his hands hovering over his knives. “Something’s wrong.”

“Here in the death room?” you teased, looking around for the displacer beast, but not seeing her. “You’re sharp.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Just be on your guard.”

A low growl caught your attention as the displacer beast appeared again on a shattered dais in front of you. 

You strummed a low tune on your lute, casting Speak with Animals. 

“Quiet, darling,” Astarion warned softly. “This could be a trap.”

“Hi there,” you whispered to the displacer beast, as if that would shield you from a trap. “Would you perhaps know where we could find-”

“What’s this?” A deep voice echoed through the chamber as a giant figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Fresh entertainment?”

The figure, who you assumed was the orthon, was massive. His head bore jagged, razor sharp horns, and his body was adorned with armor, some of which, you realized with horror, was made of bones. To make matters worse, he had a giant crossbow trained on you. You saw Astarion take a shocked step backwards out of the corner of your eye before he lowered himself into a ready stance. 

“Oh, really good job getting his attention,” Astarion shot at you bitterly.

“But you’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you?” The orthon looked between you and Astarion, before his eyes rested on Astarion. “A dark-dweller, you may be, but there’s a definite whiff of the surface to you.” 

Astarion said nothing and carefully sidestepped his way over to you, standing in front of you and attempting to shield you with his body.

“We could try talking?” you suggested to the vampire. “Maybe we can get out of this without a fight?”

“A new arrival then,” the orthon continued, clearly not perceiving you or Astarion to be any sort of threat. “You burrowed too deep, little rabbits.”

Astarion meanwhile, was still taking in your surroundings. He nudged you with his elbow and gestured for you to look up.

Figures in golden masks looked down at you, all aiming weapons and preparing to shoot if either of you made the wrong move.

You cleared your throat and looked back at the orthon. “Allow us to hop to it,” you said calmly. “We’re just here to talk. Put that thing down-”

“I don’t talk to prey!” The orthon roared. “I-” He paused and Astarion hovered his hands above his daggers again. “There’s something else, almost hidden by your fear-stink.” 

You discretely tried to smell yourself, but Astarion leaned back to whisper, “You don’t actually stink, darling.”

“Right,” you responded quietly.

“Cherries,” the orthon sniffed, “musk… and sulphur.”

“Oh, that,” you said, trying to wipe Raphael’s stench off of your armor.

The orthon exhaled steam from his nostrils. “Raphael! I can smell him all over you! Where is he?! Spit it out! Now!”

Overhead, the masked figures loudly made it known that their weapons were loaded and pointing down at you and Astarion. The displacer beast snarled and paced impatiently upon the dais. 

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked you through the side of his mouth. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

The displacer beast growled and shouted to the orthon: “Master! They’ve been sent here by the perfumed swindler to kill you!” She leaped forward off the dais and began circling around you and Astarion, her teeth bared and her tails flicking impatiently.

“Did he, now,” the orthon chuckled. “Many have tried to fell the mighty Yurgir, but none have succeeded.” 

“What?” Astarion asked frantically. “What did the beast say to him?”

You rolled your eyes. “She tattled on us, basically.”

Astarion pulled his daggers from their sheaths. “Wretched thing!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, stilling Astarion’s hands, and stepping in front of him so you were closer to Yurgir. “Mr. Yurgir, sir, perhaps we can help each other?”

The displacer beast snorted. “The pretty one has pulled out his meager weapons. It’s clear they are here with intent to harm.”

“Not true!” you said quickly, noting the confusion in Astarion’s expression at having not understood the beast. You strummed a quick Speak with Animals for him so you wouldn’t need to continue to translate. 

Yurgir chuckled again, amused with your distressed display. “Bargaining, are you? A Kara-Tur warlord once tried the same - I made him watch as I ate his concubines and young, then fashioned a codpiece from his skull.”

“Charming,” Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Silence!” The displacer beast lunged at Astarion, who sidestepped her and prepared to attack her with his daggers. 

“Don’t!” you pleaded, preparing to cast a spell with your lute. The air in the chamber tensed significantly.

“Nessa,” Yrugir addressed the displacer beast calmly. He nodded to her and she begrudgingly took a step back from Astarion, who straightened a little and kept an eye on both you and the beast. 

Yurgir sighed, all the while, his crossbow was still trained on you and Astarion. 

“You can’t help. It’s not just walls that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me. A contract.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. “Figures a meathead like you would get trapped in an agreement with a devil.”

A growl came from the back of Yurgir’s throat. “My patience grows thin with you,” he narrowed his eyes at Astarion who met his gaze unwaveringly. “One more snide comment and it’s lights out, pretty boy.”

Astarion chuckled. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“Astarion,” you hissed. “Please behave.” You turned back towards Yurgir. “Can you tell me more about the contract?”

For whatever reason, perhaps intrigue, perhaps loneliness, Yurgir indulged your request. 

“Either I fulfill the contract, die trying… or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I’ll become Raphael’s slave.”

You felt Astarion prickle behind you at the mention of slavery. 

“Personally,” Astarion said angrily, “I’d prefer if you died trying.” 

Without warning, he threw a knife in Yurgir’s direction, which the orthon dodged very easily. Yurgir looked up at his masked minions and nodded.

One by one, they jumped to the ground pointing their weapons at Astarion. Nessa pounced and pinned him to the bloodied marble floor beneath you.

“Wait!” you shouted as Nessa unhinged her jaw to snap in Astarion’s face. You cleared your throat. “Diabolic deals of legend always have loopholes! We just need to find it!”

Astarion struggled beneath Nessa. “Get off of me!” He pushed against her massive head, but she overpowered him with her paws on his shoulders and slashed across his face, causing him to yell out in pain.

Your whole body tensed. “Astarion, stop moving!” 

“Listen to your mate,” Nessa growled. 

“She’s not-”

“Oh please,” Nessa said, annoyed. “You two reek of each other. It’s as if you were attempting to make pups mere moments ago.”

Astarion scoffed but stopped struggling. You cast a quiet Healing Word and the wound on his cheek vanished.

Yurgir lowered his weapon. “Is he done being a pest?”

You laughed nervously. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” you murmured.

Yurgir lowered the weapon marginally, suddenly more comfortable, now that the problem child was pinned to the floor. “Raphael is no foolish story devil. His mind is different. Sneaky. Listen…”

The orthon closed his eyes, trying to remember the terms of his contract. Then, to your surprise, he started to sing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night. Silence all prayers; smother each rite.”

Raphael made Yurgir’s contract… a song?

“Wander Shar’s halls; hungry to slay; Leave no Justiciar alive to obey.”

Your fingers twitched on the neck of your lute, eager to accompany him, but not wanting to push your luck. At least now you knew what happened to the Justiciars. You didn’t plan on joining them any time soon.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

Yurgir finished his melancholy melody with an anguished sigh, clear that this contract had been his curse for far too long. 

There was something about this song that differed from the ones you’d studied in the past… Something about the final couplet. 

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the justiciars,” Astarion angled his head to look up at you. 

You met his eye and saw his hand flick twitch at his side. One of his concealed daggers glinted in the dim light. Shaking your head minutely, Astarion smirked and pulled the dagger, plunging it into Nessa’s side. She shrieked in pain and staggered to the side, allowing Astarion to spring to his feet.

“What are you doing?!” Your eyes widened in fear.

Astarion gestured at Yurgir as the masked minions closed in on both of you. “Can we kill him now?” He lowered his voice, “Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars!”

“Would you-”

Suddenly, you felt a slash across your back as one of Yurgir’s minions grazed your torso with their axe. You gasped in pain, staggering forward into Astarion’s arms. He shouted your name, cradling you to his chest and bringing you to a kneel on the ground.

“I’m okay,” you winced. “He slashed me, but it’s not deep.”

Astarion searched your face to make sure you were telling the truth. When he was satisfied by your expression, he released you gently, then got up and approached Nessa. He pulled his dagger from her side and threw it into the gut of the minion who’d slashed you. He went down with a harsh thud.

“How dare you attack her!” he shouted. “If you have a problem with anyone, come after me!”

“Wonderful idea,” Yurgir hissed, before nodding to his minions. 

In a blur of gold and black, the minions and Nessa jumped at Astarion, knocking him to the ground and making him disappear from your line of sight as they surrounded him and began taking hits.

“STOP!” you bellowed, running at them and banging one of the minions in the back of his metal head. He turned and swung his axe at you, just missing. Astarion shrieked from within the wall of enemies.

Yurgir’s face remained impassive as you turned to look at him.

“Tell them to stop!”

Yurgir laughed humorlessly. “You two were sent here to kill me. He seems dumb enough to try and follow through. He must die instead.”

Your fists clenched at your side in a mix of fear, frustration, and anger.

Astarion was acting reckless, and you had a feeling it had something to do with his accidental confession from earlier. So help you gods, you were going to give him a stern talking to once you got him out of this mess.

“Darling!” he yelled. “A little help!”

You heard his knife plunge into the side of a minion, who fell to the marble floor beside you.

Taking a deep breath, you stood your ground. You knew better than to attack Yurgir by yourself. And his minions greatly outnumbered you. 

If only Raphael had poofed you here with your entire party. 

“DARLING!” Astarion shrieked.

“OKAY!” you shouted back, searching your mind to find a solution. 

If you attacked to help Astarion, chances were, you’d both be killed without a second thought and Yurgir would move on with his lonely existence. You almost felt bad for him. No, it would be better if you refrained from attacking and went about this from a different angle.

Perhaps distracting Yurgir from his loneliness was the way to go. You were rather gifted in the art of persuasion.

“The contract is a song! If you want, I could try and help you figure it out!” You strummed your lute for good measure, subtly sending a Healing Word Astarion’s way, along with some Bardic Inspiration. 

Yurgir rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to make it pretty - I want to silence it.” 

Astarion yelped in pain and shouted your name. You heard Nessa growl.

Yurgir trained his crossbow on you once more. “Enough prattle,” he said. “The lyrics are clear: all who hear the song must die. And now, you must die.”

The unmistakable sound of an axe connecting with flesh reached your ears and you heard Astarion cough and wheeze loudly. Your entire body tensed and you unconsciously reached for the scar on your torso.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, tossing your lute strap around so that it rested at your back and holding your hands in front of you to show you weren’t holding any weapons. “Raphael’s a sly lyricist - he tricked you!”

Yurgir raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” You turned and gestured to the masked minions gathered around Astarion. “Your followers heard your song and still live!”

Yurgir lowered his crossbow again. “The merregons? They barely have a thought to share among themselves…”

The merregons, as Yurgir called them, paused in their attacks on the prone vampire and turned to face the orthon, their vacant masked eyes staring at him blankly. 

“But they do have ears…” Yurgir muttered.

You moved ever so slightly closer to Astarion, who lay bloodied on the ground, covering his face with his hands, his breaths ragged. Multiple daggers were plunged into the limbs of various merregons as well as in Nessa, who had paused her attacks as well to watch whatever was about to happen. You fell to your knees and laid your hands on Astarion’s wounds, channeling all your magic into Cure Wounds. You prayed to whatever gods were listening that this plan of yours would work. 

Yurgir narrowed his eyes at his minions. “Kill yourselves,” he commanded. “Back to the hells with you.”

Without argument, the merregons turned to each other and swung their battle axes, striking fatal blows on one another. You slung your arms behind Astarion’s back, lifting him up and cradling him to your chest, using your body as a shield from flying viscera and debris. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, and you bumped his nose with yours to bring his focus to you. His eyes softened and you used the distraction of the merregon carnage to heal him some more.

“You’re okay,” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. 

Astarion nodded slightly.

By now, it seemed that each golden minion was dead on the ground surrounding you both. Nessa watched the two of you closely, anger and confusion overtaking her senses. 

“Can I put you back down?” you whispered to Astarion. “We’ve still got company.” You nodded your head towards the orthon and the displacer beast.

Again, Astarion nodded slightly, keeping himself seated upright as you rose to stand. 

Yurgir clutched at his head, his eyes shut tight in frustration. 

“I still hear it,” he groaned. “Seems your theory is wrong.”

With a flick of his head in Nessa’s direction, she pounced at Astarion again. This time however, Astarion was able to roll out of her way and stood beside you, brandishing a pair of daggers he pulled from the dead merregons.

“That’s because you’re not finished yet!” you said quickly, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to stop him from attacking Nessa. 

You eyed the creature menacingly stalking around you and Astarion. The purple sheen of her coat was stained with red. Very likely caused by the blood of the man standing next to you.

The man you loved.

She had to die.

“The displacer can hear you, can’t she?” You squeezed Astarion’s wrist. 

Yurgir looked at Nessa, and you saw the dots connecting in his head.

“Kill her,” you instructed. 

The orthon’s eyes grew sad. “...Kill Nessa?”

Nessa herself straightened and looked at Yurgir with a mix of surprise and deep heartbreak. “Master…?”

Yurgir raised his crossbow. His words were soft: “Stay very still, my beauty.”

With that, he shot Nessa with a deadly arrow, piercing through her side and killing her instantly. You felt the warm spray of her blood splatter across your face and Astarion pulled you closer. 

“Ugh!” Yurgir groaned, clutching at his head again. “I still hear it!” 

With one final squeeze of Astarion’s wrist, you released him and took a step forward.

“Darling,” he reached out after you but you stopped him.

“I’ll be alright, my love.” You winked at him. “I promise.”

He dropped his hand to his side and nodded wordlessly.

You then drew yourself up into a confident posture, similar to how you would perform for crowds back in Baldur’s Gate. 

“My dear hunter,” you said, “isn’t it obvious?” 

A beat of silence passed before Yurgir answered you. “No?”

“Yes, no, darling,” Astarion whispered with a tinge of desperation and confusion. “What are you doing?” 

“Shh,” you hissed at him before turning back to Yurgir. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

“Ohhh,” Astarion breathed, before projecting his voice for Yurgir to hear. “She’s right, you know. Raphael is a tricky bastard, this is exactly the kind of thing he’d never think you’d be able to parse from his insufferable lyrics.”

Yurgir growled. “ENOUGH! I’ve heard enough from you!” He pointed his crossbow at Astarion.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and held up his hands. “Right.” 

Yurgir turned to you, his expression plainly showing that he was at war with himself and your words. He exhaled, steam releasing from his nostrils.

“If you’re wrong about this,” he snarled, “I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.”

“Trust me,” you said, “music and lyrics are kind of my thing. I believe this will solve your problem.”

Yurgir furrowed his eyebrows, once again considering your words, before he tossed his crossbow aside and pulled a gigantic greatsword off of his back.

“Nicely played, Raphael,” he said, knowing that Raphael was probably listening to this entire interaction from somewhere below. “Bastard.”

Without a moment of hesitation to talk himself out of it, Yurgir plunged the sword through his chest, grunting out in pain before the light drained from his eyes. He fell to his knees, then tipped forward, over the edge of the platform he’d been standing on, and landed with a gigantic thud in front of you and Astarion.

Dead.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and slumped forward, putting one hand on your knees, and another over your heart, willing your pulse to slow.

Astarion took a step forward to examine the orthon, not entirely convinced that the devil was well and truly dead. 

When it seemed Yurgir wasn’t getting back up, Astarion spoke. “Does… Does that count as us killing him? That had better count.”

You laughed in disbelief at your accomplishment. “I don’t think it matters, so long as he’s dead.” You walked forward to stand at Astarion’s side. “And he seems to be dead. Aren’t you pleased?”

He was looking at you fondly, but you watched as Astarion put his mask back in place, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “The orthon is nothing,” he said pompously. I’ll have my satisfaction when Raphael makes good on his word.”

You rolled your eyes. Idiot.

“Repeat after me,” you said, wiping some wayward blood off his cheekbone, “‘Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.’”

“Hmm?” Astarion’s eyes widened. “Hrmm,” he whined and looked away. When he met your eye again, he sighed. “Thank you for helping me. It was very kind.” 

You could tell the words pained him tremendously.

“You’re welcome,” you said cheerily before heading back out the way you came. 

You heard Astarion hot on your heels, knowing he’d follow you.

“Darling, wait- ah!” He groaned out in pain and you immediately halted and turned to look at him.

He was doubled over and sank to his knees, clutching his side.

“Astarion!” you cried, rushing over to him and kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? Did I miss a wound? Where are you hurt?”

He pulled his hand away from his side, revealing a tiny pool of blood in his palm.

“Blasted displacer beast must have nicked me when I wasn’t looking.” He smirked at you, clearly trying to disway your worry. 

You furrowed your brow and summoned the strongest Cure Wounds you could muster. “Hold still,” you said gently. 

The aqua healing magic that emitted from your fingertips created a soothing light that warmed both you and Astarion as it worked on fixing the wound. 

“How did you know that would work?” Astarion asked quietly.

You looked up at his face and found him watching your hands. You smiled. “Which thing? My impressive healing magic? Or way with words?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You know I was referring to the orthon.”

“I didn’t,” you shrugged, moving your hands to heal his side from a different angle. “Didn’t know talking would work, I mean. But I had to try something rather than let both of us die in this gross, decrepit temple to Shar.”

Astarion chuckled. “Don’t let Shadowheart hear you say that.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you said. “Speaking of Shadowheart, I hope she and the others are alright.”

The vampire thought about it for a moment. “They’re probably fine. And if they’re not, I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to save the day.”

“And you won’t lift a finger, right?”

“Not if I can help it.”

You laughed. “Come on,” you said, standing up and offering Astarion a hand, “we should set up camp for the night.”

“I’m sorry,” Astarion raised an eyebrow,”you want to stay down here?”

“Not especially,” you admitted, emerging through the doorway you’d followed Nessa through. “But unless you see Raphael or a waypoint, it’ll be a little hard to get back to the inn right now. And I spent all my magic just now saving your ass from some mindless monsters.”

“Ah,” Astarion said quietly, with less sarcasm than you’d expect. “Yes, you did do that, didn’t you?”

You paused and looked over at him. “Do you want to talk now?”

He laughed softly. “Give me a moment, it’s still fresh.”

You smiled. “Take your time, my love.”

Without speaking further, the two of you made your way through Shar’s temple, attempting to find a suitable place to rest for the night. Sure, you’d only awoken a few hours ago, but talking an orthon and his minions into killing themselves wasn’t exactly an easy task. You felt completely drained, especially after channeling all your magic into healing Astarion.

Upon finding a suitable place to unwind - a grand, abandoned hall with minimal leaks, dead bodies, and foul odors - you slung your backpack off your shoulders, grateful you’d thought to put it on this morning.

Astarion, who’d just finished surveying the room, bit his lip. “Let me help you with that,” he said, coming over to help you unpack your extra camping supplies. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, watching as he pulled out a bedroll that the two of you would likely have to share tonight. 

“Of course, love,” he said absently, before his eyes widened and he looked at you. 

You gave him a gentle half smile and kissed his cheek. 

After a few minutes, your little party of two had a modest fire going in a brazier that Astarion had dragged over to your makeshift camping area, along with a stew heating up, thanks to supplies Gale had lent you for occasions like this when he wasn’t around. You swept your hand over the bedroll, flattening lumps and rearranging pillows to make it as comfortable as possible on the hard marble floor. 

Astarion watched you from a tiny set of stairs not too far off, balancing the tip of a blade on his finger. He, like you, had stripped off his bloody armor and was now lounging in only his plain clothes, which were stained with dried blood from where Nessa and the merregons had pierced through his armor. 

“Enjoying the show?” you asked, very aware that you weren’t being sexy, and were merely fluffing a pillow. 

Astarion didn’t respond and kept staring at you, unblinking. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers in his direction. “Anybody home?”

He started, as if coming out of a trance, causing his dagger to fall and slice his fingertip. “Bugger!” he exclaimed, shoving the digit into his mouth.

You clicked your tongue. “Come here,” you said, motioning for him to approach you.

He got up slowly, walking over to you and kneeling on the bedroll.

“Let me see,” you instructed, holding out your hand for him to show you the cut. 

It was a tiny little thing, right at the tip of his right index finger. The bleeding had already ceased. 

“Yikes,” you said dramatically. “Not sure you’ll survive this one.” You smiled and reached into your bag, opting for a bandage instead of attempting another healing spell. 

Before wrapping the wound, however, you brought it to your mouth for a kiss, letting out an overly exaggerated “MWAH!” when your lips made contact.

“Better?” you asked, fastening the bandage in place.

Astarion nodded. “Much.”

“I have a fresh shirt, if you want,” you told him, pulling out one of his shirts that he’d let you keep from your backpack. “All that blood can’t be comfortable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion joked, taking the shirt from your hands and lifting his soiled one over his head. 

Though he was facing you, you couldn’t help thinking about the scars on his back.

“Listen,” you said as his head popped out of the collar of the fresh shirt, “even if Raphael doesn’t have the answers you want, I promise we’ll make Cazador pay for what he did to you.”

A wicked grin came over Astarion’s face. “Oh, I-” He stopped himself. You watched as he grew visibly shy. “Um… Darling, do you have a moment?” When you raised an eyebrow, indicating you were listening, he looked down at his hands. “I think we need to talk.”

You inhaled sharply. 

Oh.

This was it.

The moment you’d been waiting for.

“I’d like that,” you brushed your fingers along his cheek.

His eyes grew wide and vulnerable, and he took your hand in his. “Look, I-”

“Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this… charming plane of existence?”

Both you and Astarion deflated.

“Perfect timing as always, Raphael.” You stood to face the devil and Astarion rose to join you.

“I’m nothing if not punctual,” Raphael smirked with a deep bow in your direction.

“Get on with it,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “We were in the middle of something.”

Raphael lifted his head. “My apologies to the flittering lovebirds.” 

You sighed. “No, we don’t know what happens when a devil dies.”

The devil before you chuckled. “It returns to the hells - to the very point where it last stood before venturing to whichever devilforsaken plane it died on.”

“Your point?” Astarion asked impatiently.

Raphael looked between the two of you, observing the blood still speckled across Astarion’s face. “In the case of our friend Yurgir, he manifested in my House of Hope. He returned to me chastened but intact, his wounds healed, his body restored. He thought I would dismember him, but he has his uses so instead I am reeducating him.”

You groaned. “Come on, Raphael, we had a deal.”

Astarion placed his hands on his hips. “We delivered the devil. Now I want what I’m owed.”

Raphael exhaled an amused breath. “We did indeed have a deal. I discovered all there is to know about those scars of yours.” He chuckled unsettlingly. “It’s a rather grim tale, even for my tastes.”

Astarion stiffened beside you, and you sidestepped to be closer to him. You took his right hand in both of yours and held on tight.

“Stop stalling,” you said firmly. “Astarion deserves to know whatever it is you found out.”

Raphael watched your hands before his eyes found your face. “As you wish.” He then turned to Astarion, who was staring at him with carefully masked fear. “Brace yourself, Astarion - we’re about to unveil your destiny.”

You squeezed Astarion’s hand. 

“Carved into that ivory skin of yours is one part of a contract between the archdevil Mephistopheles, and your former master, Cazador Szarr.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust at the name. 

Raphael continued. “In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted the knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile, it has never been performed.”

Astarion sighed. “Sounds like Cazador.”

Raphael raised his voice. “It is called, ‘The Rite of Profane Ascension.’”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what does that entail?”

The devil once again took up his favored performing stance. “Oh, it promises to be a marvellous ceremony. Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical.”

Astarion hummed in displeasure.

Raphael smiled at him. “You’ll like this, little vampling. If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant.”

Your vampire took a curious step forward, and you followed him, still gripping his hand. “Explain,” he said adamantly. 

“All the strengths of his vampire form will be amplified,” Raphael clarified, “and alongside them, he will enjoy the luxuries of living.”

You couldn’t help letting out a tiny gasp. Astarion looked helplessly at you before turning his attention back to Raphael, who was still speaking.

“The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.”

“Incredible,” Astarion breathed.

You nodded. If there was a way to let Astarion walk in the sun forever, you wanted to hear more about it.

Raphael smirked, seeing how his delicious words had drawn both of you in.

“But,” he warned, “the ritual has its price, as all worthwhile things do.”

“What is it?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Raphael placed a hand on his hip. “Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn, if he is to ascend.”

“No,” you murmured, your voice full of disbelief. You pulled yourself closer to Astarion. 

“Imagine how he felt, then,” Raphael said, “when one of those precious spawn disappeared into thin air.”

This time, Astarion squeezed your hand. 

“The only missing ingredient is Astarion.” Raphael smiled at him, devilishly, for lack of a better term. 

Astarion scowled at the devil, but allowed him to continue.

“You are the final piece he requires to complete the ritual - your scars bind you to it. Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you said, more to yourself than either of the men currently in your presence. 

Raphael smiled once more, taking on his performer’s stance one final time. “And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that.” He bowed deeply, before rising and giving you both a nasty look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

Before you could ask any followup questions, Raphael snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of foul smelling black smoke and embers.

Astarion stood still for a moment before turning to face you, his eyes focused on where your hands were joined. 

“Hmm,” he hummed softly. 

You blinked at him. “‘Hmm?’ That’s all you have to say?”

He met your eye. “I was… contemplating. There’s a lot to take in.” Astarion laid his free hand on top of one of yours. 

“Hey,” you said, bringing one of your hands up to his cheek. “It’ll be alright.”

He looked incredibly sad. “What do you think I should do?” 

You considered for a moment. The thought of Astarion being able to walk in the sun definitely had its appeal… but the cost was far too great and you doubted you’d be able to live with yourself if Astarion was somehow able to follow through and sacrifice innumerable souls for something that may have a cure elsewhere in Faerûn. It also sent a shiver down your spine to think of what Cazador might do with all that power. You were so immensely grateful that the mind flayers had kidnapped you and Astarion and dropped you into each other’s arms.

“We can’t let Cazador complete the ritual,” you said finally. “He could unleash terrible horrors.”

Astarion chuckled humorlessly. “The end of my life amongst them.” He exhaled slowly and nuzzled into your hand on his cheek. “Just when I was starting to enjoy it.” He took your palm and kissed it, before his eyes settled on some unseen object in the distance. “He’ll never leave me alone,” he continued. “I didn’t think he would when I was one more wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn.”

“What do you want to do?” you asked calmly, squeezing his hand once more. 

He sighed, the slightest smile playing on his lips, his eyes incredibly soft as they bore into your own. Then his brow knit together. “I need to take the fight to him.” He stepped closer to you, brushing some hair behind your ear. “And I need you… to help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” you said almost immediately. You smiled, your voice taking on a half teasing, half serious tone: “We’ll hunt him down and kill him.”

You weren’t able to add anything else, because suddenly Astarion’s lips were crushed against yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You let out a surprised yelp before meeting his tempo with equal passion and desperation. 

He murmured something against your lips.

You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?”

“I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath. 

“Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive.

He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember a time when Shadowheart had expressed wanting to live to either you or Astarion. Not that she was having trouble on that front. But nothing came to mind.

“When did she say that?”

Astarion led you over to the bedroll laid out next to the still burning brazier. He pulled you to sit down across from him. 

“While you were dying,” he said softly, refusing to look at you. “Or, while you were sleeping, I suppose, since you’re still with us.”

“Okay, so while I was dying, Shadowheart was reflecting on how unlucky I was and how she wanted to continue living?”

Astarion flicked your nose.

“Ow!” you laughed, rubbing the appendage. 

“This is it,” he said flatly. “I’m trying to have the conversation.”

Your eyes widened. “Okay,” you said, trying to reel in what you were sure was a stupid giddy grin on your face.

“Look,” he tried again, taking your hands in his. “I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.”

“I don’t think this is accomplishing what you want it to,” you said, tilting your head questioningly.

“No, you’re right.” He looked up as if asking the gods for help. “I thought it would be easy. Instinctive. I thought that habits from two hundred years of charming people would kick in. And while they did work swimmingly,” his expression melted into one of easy seduction that made you laugh lightly, “you ended up charming me. Much to my dismay.”

“Aw shucks.”

He said your name, his tone laced with annoyance. “Honestly, darling. Could you withhold your snarky comments while I try and get this out?”

You mimed locking your mouth with a key.

Then you unlocked it. 

“Sorry.”

And relocked it.

Astarion sighed and scooched forward, the tops of his knees making contact with your own. “You really aren’t making this easy for me.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly along the back of your hand, despite his complaints. 

You shrunk back a little into your shoulders, smiling sheepishly at him.

He chuckled. “While you so graciously nearly died on all of us, Shadowheart decided it was a good time to talk to me about my, blech, feelings.”

“Brave.”

“Darling.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, it was then that Shadowheart told me that I was ready to see the world burn before I saw you get hurt. And she was right. If anything had happened to you that couldn’t be undone, I don’t think I could have come back from that.”

You smiled at him, feeling your insides go all mushy with adoration.

Astarion fidgeted with your hands in his. “She also said something I wasn’t expecting.”

He paused briefly, almost as if willing you to interrupt him again and distract him from what he felt so vulnerable saying. 

“Go on,” was all you offered.

He exhaled.

“She told me that I was allowed to love you.”

You bit your lip and felt your eyes go misty. 

Of course he was allowed! After two hundred years of torture and isolation, the man before you deserved nothing more than to feel love and be loved in return. The fact that he’d been holding himself back from his own happiness and comfort made your heart ache a little.

You allowed him to continue on his own. 

“She said that heartbreak is a part of life. And while I’ve known far more heartbreak than any one person should ever experience in multiple lifetimes, she’s right.”

He looked at you earnestly in the eye, shyness playing at his features.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to live.”

You squeezed his hands a little nervously, ignoring the way your palms were clammy against his cool ones.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you deserve to be loved. Just as you’ve shown love to me.”

He leaned in close, resting his forehead softly against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered. Then added, “You atrocious woman.”

You laughed, a tear running down your cheek. “I love you, too, you beautiful, wonderful, terrible man.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pinned him to the bedroll, nuzzling your face into his neck, taking in his scent and letting all of him wash over your senses. You didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. 

“You do?” he asked softly, staring up at the ceiling above you blankly. 

You sat up on your elbows and looked down at him. “What about anything I’ve said and done in the past few weeks has made you think that I wasn’t already head over heels in love with you?”

Astarion’s face broke out into a massively giddy grin. He held a hand to his forehead and laughed in disbelief. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “You get so used to being alone that it starts to feel like that’s all you’ll ever be. I scarcely thought I’d find a bard on a dilapidated beach foolish enough to want to know me and not run away screaming when she did.”

“There’s still time,” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he rolled his eyes affectionately. 

Now it was your turn to rub your thumb along the back of his hand. “If I recall correctly, you just said I’ve shown love to you - If I made it that obvious, why are you still doubting how I feel?”

He sighed for what must have been the tenth time this evening. “It’s only that you could be with anyone at camp and you’re choosing to love me? The one who eats rats and bugs and kills people for pleasure?”

You kissed his cheek, down to the side of his mouth. “You’re also the silliest, sexiest, most remarkable man I’ve ever met. And I seem to remember saying the same thing to you back when we first slept together. That you could have anyone, but you’d chosen me. Why can’t I choose you in return?”

“Because you’re…” He searched for the words. “You’re incredible. And you deserve something real. What if I can’t give you that?”

You bent forward and kissed his mouth, hard. “Where’s my suave vampire? Who is this vulnerable mess in front of me right now?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Vulnerable,’ sure. ‘Mess?’ Hardly.”

“There he is,” you smiled and kissed him again.

“I mean it though,” he said between kisses. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

“This is real,” you murmured. “I love you,” you kissed his jaw, “I love you,” you kissed his throat, “Astarion,” you pulled back to look at him with eyes full of devotion, “I’m in love with you. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

He seemed dazed, watching you with half lidded eyes. He smiled like a dope. “There’s still time,” he teased. 

You laughed and kissed his mouth deeply. “You’re who I’ve dreamed of meeting since I was a little girl. Someone to see me, and laugh with me, and make me feel like I’m the only one for you.” You pushed a hand to his lips before he could make a sarcastic comment. “Yes, I know you’ve been with thousands of other people, but I haven’t. And yet, you’ve made me feel like I’m the only one who ever mattered to you.”

He smiled softly. “You are,” he confirmed. “I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you. None that I can remember at least. But as far as I know, you’re the only one who’s ever cared for me and truly meant it. Yes, you make dumb comments at the most inopportune times, you’re loud and obnoxious, your bleeding heart gets this group into far more trouble than we ever would have without you-”

“Gee, thanks.”

“-and I love every bit of it. You make me laugh, you never make me feel small or worthless for the things that have happened to me or that I’ve had to do in my past, and,” he cleared his throat, deeply embarrassed to be admitting all of this, “you bring out the best in me.”

“Aw-”

“If you say ‘aw shucks,’ I will kill you.”

“You will not.”

“I will not.”

He kissed you instead. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. “I care about you. Deeply.” 

He smirked at you. “Oh, really?”

“I swear,” you whispered in his ear, “you’ll never know a lonely day again. Not as long as I’m around. I adore you. I love you.”

Astarion’s breath hitched in his throat. “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Get used to it,” you brushed your fingertips against the tip of his ear. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Blast!” he chuckled. “And here I thought a grand love confession from a gorgeous vampire would send you running for the hills.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” you laughed. 

He laughed again, a gentle exhale from his nose, and unwrapped your arms from his neck to hold your hands in his once again. He fidgeted with the ring on your pinky. “Honestly,” he said softly, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He raised your hands to his mouth and kissed across your knuckles. “But I know that this,” he leaned his forehead into yours and kissed the tip of your nose, “this is nice.”

“You’re nice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Actually, darling, you’ll find that I am not.”

You smiled. “Shhh, let me enjoy this brief delusion.” 

“With pleasure,” he smirked and bent forward to kiss you deeply. He placed his arms around you and lowered you so that you landed gently on the bedroll beneath you and redirected his attention to nipping and sucking around the bruises on your neck from where he’d fed the night before. 

You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his back, and rubbing your hands up and down his shirt soothingly. 

“I love you,” you whispered, still enamored by the taste of the words on your tongue.

Astarion moaned and dragged his teeth up towards your ear. “Again.”

“I love you,” you whimpered as he bit your earlobe. 

His hips gave an unconscious roll against yours and you felt him already becoming hard in his pants. You lifted your head to gain his attention and raised your eyebrows.

“Here?”

He shrugged. “We’ve done it in the dirt before, a Temple to the Goddess of Darkness is quite the step up.”

You looked around skeptically. “You don’t think she’s watching, do you?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, what’s so special about one temple dedicated to her here out of the thousands littering Faerûn.”

You bit your lip. “But this one is surrounded by shadows.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Please, I was surrounded by shadows for two hundred years and her eyes never fell upon me specifically.”

“Or so you think.”

“Darling.”

You smiled sheepishly. “You’re probably right.”

Astarion preened. “Of course I’m right. Now please, I’ve never made love to someone before.” He leaned forward to kiss you again but you pulled back with a laugh. 

“‘Never?”

His lips were still puckered, prepared to kiss you, but he blew out a raspberry instead, blowing the curl that hung freely on his forehead away from his face. “I’ve decided I hate you, actually.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “You’re the one who told our friends you made love to me literally the morning after we first slept together.”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively through the air. “I didn’t know what I was saying.” He rolled his hips against yours again, harder now, despite his supposed hatred towards you. “Please love, it’ll be so much better now.”

You rolled your hips in tandem with his, making Astarion hang his head and hiss. “It’s been pretty good before.”

“Well, of course it has, I’m excellent. I wouldn’t let a partner suffer, it’s not in my blood.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “But…”

“But,” he said more soberly, “you’re the first person I actually…” He paused on the word. 

“Go on,” you encouraged. 

He met your eye. “...love.” He held your gaze for a moment before continuing. “Last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life because of how loved I felt by you and hopefully, the feeling was reciprocated.” He sent you a small smile, which you returned with an excited and over-the-top nod. “But I think that the fact that I am completely and desperately in love with you is what made it feel wonderful as opposed to… tainted.”

You pursed your lips and attempted to make him smile again. “Are you insulting my skills now?”

He laughed. “No, sweet girl, you were and are marvelous.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to something low and breathy. “And I’d like to give it another go.”

You gave him a seductive half smile. “Then give it to me, dummy.”

Astarion lunged forward, laying you flat on your back and devouring your mouth with his own. “Oh, my love,” he moaned against your lips, “you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your heart soared at the compliment, and you chased his lips as he pulled away to look at you with sparkling ruby eyes. 

“I’ve been looking for someone like you my whole life,” you admitted when he bent to drag his fangs along your neck again. 

“I doubt that,” he chuckled, nipping lightly at your skin for good measure. “But do go on,” he urged, spurring you with a roll of his hips, “what were you looking for?”

You sighed happily and wrapped your ankle around his. “Well, I already told you I wanted someone to laugh with, that’s big.”

“We’ve never laughed together,” he licked your ear.

“Not once,” you giggled. “But, I don’t know. You’re no knight in shining armor.”

“Certainly not.”

“And you never sing with me.”

“Nor will I ever.”

“And quite honestly, you’re a little frightening.”

“Thank you, darling!” “But despite it all, you’re kind.” He scowled at your words, but softened when you kissed his nose. “You care about me and the things I care about.” You stopped him before he could argue. “And don’t disagree with me, you stole a lute for me. You fought with Rolan-”

“Who?”

“-when he was being unreasonable and wouldn’t listen to me. And you nursed me back to health when there were honestly better people at camp who were far more equipped to heal me than some vampire rogue.”

“And I did a bang up job.”

“You did,” you laughed and kissed him sweetly. “And now, I can’t imagine my life without that vampire rogue.”

He kissed you again, gently massaging his fingers through your hair and across your scalp. “Then stay with me,” he murmured.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” you responded, meeting his eye with a fierce look that conveyed your sincerity. “And longer.”

One of his hands drifted down your sides and started playing with the ties on your pants. 

“May I?” he asked. 

“Only if you return the favor.”

He smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, folding it neatly and slipping it under your head for extra support. He kissed your cheek before running his hands under your shirt and squeezing your breasts playfully. 

“Honk,” you said, thinking yourself funny.

“You’re not funny,” he said flatly, though his smile betrayed him. 

“You love me, so you have to think I’m funny.”

“Are those the rules?” 

“You’re the lawyer, you tell me.”

By now, he’d removed your bra and taken one of your nipples gently into his mouth. “Mmm-mm-mmm,” he attempted to correct, though he continued sucking the hardened pebble incoherently. 

“Lawyer, magistrate, what’s the difference?” you asked breathily.

Astarion came up for air. “I have neither the time, nor the patience to explain, but know that you are wrong, and I still love you.” He took your other breast into his mouth, biting down a little harshly, and making your back arch. 

“Whatever you say, handsome,” you sighed, rubbing at the tips of his ears and making him moan against your skin. 

“Whatever I say, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s an expression.”

“You’ll let me have you tonight,” he said, resting his cheek on your breast like a pillow.

You stroked your hands through his hair. “A given.”

“You’ll let me drink from you,” he added, before tacking on a sheepish “please.”

“Of course, my love.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in thought. “And,” he said, looking back at you with a shy expression, “and you won’t leave me, once this is all over.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Astarion,” you cupped his cheek. “No. No sweet boy, I won’t ever leave you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

He made a whining sound from the back of his throat. “You say that now, but what if we can’t beat Cazador? What if I return to his thrall?”

“We won’t let that happen,” you reassured. “Believe me, that fucker was dead the moment I met you. Not a chance he survives this.”

Astarion let out an amused exhale. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, my love, but Cazador will not be easy to kill. Especially now that we know about his dastardly ritual.”

You moved your hands from his hair to start rubbing soothingly up and down his back. “You are the missing piece, Astarion. He can’t come into his power unless you’re there. And with all of us at your side, we won’t let him take you.”

Astarion looked up at you skeptically, but saw how determined you looked and softened, pressing his lips to the swell of your breast. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, resting his cheek back against your skin. 

“I fear the mention of your former slaver has dampened the mood.”

Astarion chuckled. “What gave you that idea?”

“Let’s see if I can’t help,” you said, wiggling your hips beneath his, both of you still clothed from the waist down. “Hmm…”

“Hmm…” Astarion mimicked you, idly rubbing his thumb across your right nipple. 

“Star jasmine.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Um, it’s pronounced, ‘Ah-star-ee-on.’”

You shoved him and he laughed. “No, idiot. We’ll have star jasmine growing on the side of our house.”

“Who, ‘we?’ You and me, ‘we?’”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, obviously.”

“Oh.” Astarion looked pleased. “What else?”

“We’ll live in the Upper City.”

“Staying in Baldur’s Gate, are we?”

“Shush, this is my fantasy.”

He chuckled. “Go on, then.”

“It’ll be in a nice quiet corner of the city. Exclusive to all but the finest of citizens.”

Astarion nodded, fiddling with the ends of your hair. 

“You’ll be a renowned tailor and have a shop downstairs.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, will I? And who says I won’t want to live a quiet life, ravishing my beloved all day?” He kissed your breast again and dragged his fangs along the plump flesh. 

You shivered. “We need to make money, somehow,” you said shakily. 

“And you expect me to be the breadwinner? Selfish little thing, aren’t you?” He continued dragging his fangs along your chest. 

“I’ll be performing at prestigious parties all around town,” you clarified, tightening your hands into his curls. “And you’ll get bored if you’re not terrorizing patriars. What better way than with overpriced, yet exquisite garments? I’ve seen your embroidery.” 

“Dextrous fingers and flowers made of thread does not a tailor make,” Astarion pointed out, nipping playfully at your nipple and moving his dexterous fingers to your still clothed core. “And besides,” he purred, circling your clit, “I’ll want to see my lovely little songbird in action every once in a while.”

You gasped at a particularly delicious rub of his fingers. “Two income households are quite common these days,” you argued, wanting to maintain the fantasy you were making up on the fly. 

“And who’s to say,” Astarion said, kissing just above your naval, “that we won’t become fabulously wealthy on this journey of ours?”

“Fine,” you conceded, “then we’ll live in a mansion in the countryside. Overlooking the Sword Sea.”

“Think bigger, darling,” he massaged your hips, rolling his pelvis into yours, making you aware how hard he still was. “The love of my life deserves a palace erected in her honor.”

You snorted and he pinched your sides. 

“Erected,” he repeated, seeing your eyes crinkle in mirth. “Gods you are a child,” he muttered, before kissing you fiercely. “And I love you very much. Stupidly.”

“Okay, loverboy,” you laughed, “what do you expect our future to look like?” You smoothed some of his curls behind his ears and absorbed the soft look in his eyes. 

“Hmm,” he mused, kissing your neck. “Well, I’ve lived in a rather decrepit crypt of a palace for the last two hundred years, so maybe a palace is out.”

You nodded, absentmindedly tucking your thumbs into his waistband and massaging the bare skin found beneath. “Alright, palaces are off the list.” 

“An estate, then,” he stated, kissing your bare shoulder. “Somewhere we can throw fabulous balls and gossip about the debauchery of our esteemed guests.”

“I like that,” you sighed, as he licked up your throat. “An estate with sprawling grounds, a notably vast library, and secret rooms around every shadowy corner.”

“You’ve been reading too many books, my love,” he chuckled, kissing your jawline.

“And with my notably vast library, I’ll read even more,” you said. “And you’ll read to me.”

Astarion pulled back to grin at you. “Will I?”

You nodded. “I adore your voice. It lilts like a melody.”

He laughed airly. “You flatter me.”

“I love you,” you shrugged, by way of explanation. 

“And I, you,” he smiled. Then his face fell. “Oh gods, is it going to be mushy like this all the time now?”

You laughed again and playfully smacked the side of his head. 

“I jest, love,” he chuckled, shockingly not complaining about you swatting at his curls. “I adore you. May I have you now?” His fingers slipped delicately into your own waistband.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “Please.”

In one graceful motion that you’d come to expect, Astarion removed both your pants and underthings in one go. 

He inhaled deeply. “You smell divine, my sweet.” His fingers swept through your folds, making you jolt at their sudden coolness. “And you’re nearly wet enough to take me already.”

“I like thinking about our future,” you admitted. “I like picturing you happy.”

“Blech,” Astarion stuck out his tongue in mock disgust, but began to circle your clit slowly with his thumb. “Tell someone you love them, and suddenly they picture you happy.”

You attempted to inch your hips closer to his hand. “You like being happy, admit it.”

“Never,” he growled, leaning forward to kiss you again. “But I suppose I like you.”

“I knew it,” you teased, closing your eyes with a blissed out smile as he inserted a finger into your dripping hole.

“Blue,” he said, pumping his finger into you. 

“Yellow,” you responded breathlessly. “What are we talking about?”

“I was also thinking yellow,” he smiled, as if that response made any sense. 

“Great! What are we talking about?”

“The estate, darling,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “I think blue for the sky and yellow for the sun would be quite a pleasant theme as opposed to the wretchedly dark crimsons, greens, and golds found in Cazador’s mansion.”

“Ah,” you whined as he inserted another finger. “Sounds… sounds like the winter solstice all year round.”

“Trust me, darling, there was never any joy or festivities to be had in that loathsome place.”

“Our house,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your words, “will be full of nothing but joy.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Astarion teased, lowering himself to suck on your clit. 

You gasped loudly and thrust your hands into his hair. He lapped at your folds, never removing his fingers, and sucked viciously at your bundle of nerves. 

“We’ll hold dinner parties,” you sighed, “all the time. If only so you can flaunt our wealth.”

Astarion moaned into your core, bumping his nose against your clit as he licked you up and down. 

Your hands tightened in his hair. “We’ll wear the finest clothes, sleep in the finest bed, make love in the finest bed- ah!”

Astarion pulled you closer to his face, a possessive rumbling low in his chest. 

“I’ll hold you in my arms at night and never let you go,” you dragged your nails down his back.

“Please,” he mumbled against your sensitive skin. 

“W-want that?” you asked as he returned to sucking your clit. “We-we’ll stay in bed, ah- for as long as you like. No expectations to go a-anywhere so do anything. We’ll be f-free.”

The vampire moaned loudly, pumping his fingers extra harshly and hitting the spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“Oh Astarion!” you wailed, throwing an arm over your eyes and twisting your free hand into his hair again. “I love you.”

“Then come, damn you,” he whined, squeezing your hip.

“Trying,” you laughed. “Faster.” 

He hummed an affirmation, swirling your clit around with the tip of his tongue and pumping into you harshly. 

“I can’t wait,” you said, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, “for our future together.”

Astarion groaned against you, sucking your clit harshly and petting your hip with the hand that wasn’t currently thrusting into you. “I love you, my darling,” he said softly.

The dam broke and you were wailing his name, crying out for him to stay with you and never let you go. 

Astarion for his part, released you from his mouth and continued fingerfucking you through your climax with sweet words: “You are so beautiful, darling. My love. My beloved, so good for me. Staying with me forever. I’m never letting you go, sweet girl.”

You came down with a shuddering sigh, gasping for breath and pulling at Astarion’s shoulders to bring his mouth to yours. 

“Astarion,” you whined.

He mimicked your name in a mocking version of how you’d just whined his. “What is it?”

“I need you.”

He smirked. “A man could get used to shattering one's world, only to have them beg for more.”

“I’m not begging,” you clarified. “I want you, but only if you want me.”

Astarion’s eyes shifted from amused to adoring. He kissed you sweetly. “Oh course I want you, darling. You’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

You sighed, loving this mushy side of him. “Fuck me, then, won’t you?”

He growled, showing off his fangs playfully. “With pleasure,” he said, reaching for his pants and removing them quickly. 

His cock hit his stomach, achingly pink at the tip and weeping precum. 

“Wait,” you said, watching him take himself into his hand and gently begin to stroke himself. “Are you hungry?”

He threw you a wicked grin. “Famished, my love.”

You tilted your head, revealing your throat to him. “I’m all yours.”

He climbed on top of you, nuzzling into your neck with his beautifully sculpted nose. ”Thank you,” he said, dragging his lips across your skin before biting down at your pulse point. 

You inhaled sharply, the icy familiarity of his fangs in your throat sending a pang through your entire body, right down to your core. Unconsciously, Astarion rolled his hips against yours, bumping the head of his cock against your clit. You moaned loudly, making him grunt against your neck. 

“We’ll make love in every room of the estate,” you sighed. “On every possible surface.”

Astarion nipped your ear with a growl before returning to your blood. 

“Our guests will have no idea we fucked on the lounge in the drawing room.”

“Mmm.” 

“On the desk in the study.”

“Mmm.”

“On the very table where they dine with us.”

Astarion gave a gasping breath as he pulled away from your throat and kissed you feverishly. You matched his vigor, reaching down and taking his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly, spreading his precum down the length of him, and feeling how your blood already added to the warmth and hardness of him. 

“Did you get enough?” you asked innocently against his lips.

He licked into your mouth, still tangy with the taste of your blood. “It’ll never be enough,” he said lowly, squeezing his eyes shut as your hand picked up the pace on his length, “but, ah, it’s enough for now.”

You smiled, using your free hand to wipe your blood from the corner of his mouth. “Is it time to make love?”

He sighed dramatically, flipping his hair out of his eyes before staring down at you with a smirk. “Yes, my dearest, I would like that very much.”

“So would I,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Astarion kissed you softly as he took himself into his hand and lined himself up at your entrance. He searched your face briefly, finding nothing but love and anticipation.

Still, he asked.

“Ready, darling?”

You smiled at him, hoping the small act conveyed all the devotion you could possibly lend to another being in this world. 

“Yes.”

He pushed into you slowly, cooing at your mild wince. 

“You always do so well for me, love, and you feel so good, wrapped around me so snuggly.”

You raked your nails down his back, softening down to your fingertips when you came in contact with the raised skin you found there. 

“No need to be gentle, my sweet,” he said conspiratorially, “I’ve told you, they don’t hurt anymore.”

He pulled back slightly and observed the look in your eye, your gaze locked on something just past his shoulder, knowing that you were thinking about his scars, rather than focusing on him in this moment.

That wouldn’t do.

He bent and kissed the side of your mouth. “Can I tell you what I picture?”

You blinked and your gaze returned to his. “Of course.”

He paused briefly to make sure you were comfortable, before pulling back and snapping his hips forward again. 

“You, obviously.”

You smiled. “I made the cut? How sweet.”

“Yes, it was a tight race between you and Wyll for a minute there, I won’t lie.”

You laughed and Astarion preened, thrilled to see the joy return to your eyes. He snapped his hips into you again, eliciting a surprised moan from your lips. 

“Truthfully though, darling, as much as I’d love to flaunt our love from the most luxurious estate on the Sword Coast,” he kissed your jawline in time with his lethargic thrusts, “I think I’d prefer your quaint little idea.”

You’d closed your eyes and bliss, but opened them again, not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You mean the house in the Upper City?”

His mouth ticked up at the corner. “Yes, my dear.” He leaned down to lick at the fresh wound on your neck, and thrust into you firmly. 

“But, ha,” you exhaled, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him deeper inside of you, “the sprawling estate? The grand dinner parties? Your fancy balls?” You made to reach for his balls, but he swatted you away. 

He laughed out your name. “I’m serious, love.” He kissed across your chest, allowing you to slowly run your fingers through his curls. “I’ve lived enough of my life in a vast palace with dark halls and looming shadows and it all felt… incredibly empty. I’d rather have a home. With you.”

You felt your eyes go misty for the second time tonight and looked away from his face. “But…” you said, grasping at anything to keep you from shedding a tear and possibly ruining the moment, “you’re the one who said to think bigger. And the estate would never be empty, there would be people over all the time.”

Astarion stopped kissing your chest to look you in the eye. “Is that what you want?”

You sniffled softly. “I want what you want.”

“Darling girl, are you crying?” Astarion immediately paused his motions and cupped both of your cheeks in his cool hands.

“I’m trying not to,” you giggled, shakily. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

You laughed more loudly, and shook your head, a tear escaping your eye and rolling down your face to kiss Astarion’s thumb. 

“No, Astarion, it’s just… I want to build a home with you too. I’d be happy anywhere you are. I love you.”

Astarion grinned and kissed you, rolling his hips and making you both whine into each other’s mouths. 

“Picture with me for a moment, darling,” he said, thrusting into you again, “the little house in the Upper City… scratch that, it would be the biggest house on the block.”

You laughed. “That goes without saying.”

“Our home would be filled to the brim with possessions. Things that belong to us.”

“Like, ah-” you panted in time with one of his thrusts, “-like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion shook his head, his cheeks the faintest of red from exertion. “Jewels, perhaps? Gold, obviously. Whatever we want! We’ll buy and take it all.”

“Emphasis on ‘take,’” you teased.

“Oh absolutely,” Astarion smirked, bringing his fingers to his mouth and wetting them before bringing them down to your clit. “There’d be multiple guest rooms for us to make love in, a reading room, a nursery, a quaint little kitchen, perhaps a study for when I’m feeling rather grandiose-”

“Wait,” you sat up suddenly, making Astarion freeze and stare at you with terror in his eyes.

“What? What is it, what happened?” He searched your eyes and brought his hands to your cheeks. 

You furrowed your brow. “What did you say?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know, you were talking a lot, and you were making me feel so good, but you said-”

“Oh, my study? Well, I suppose we can share it, darling. Though I’d expect to be able to go in there to brood occasionally.”

“No, before that.” You laid back down gently, and he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. “Did you say ‘nursery?’”

“Did I?” Astarion looked vaguely embarrassed. “I suppose I did.”

You tried to keep your face neutral. “Do you want kids someday, Astarion?”

The vampire gave his hips a gentle roll within you. “I don’t know…” he admitted. “But with the way you act around those tiefling children, I’d imagine you want to be a mother. And I’d be lying if I said the image didn’t do anything for me.”

You smiled softly at his suggestive eyebrows. “I do love kids. I told you they usually make up the best audiences.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I don’t know how you put up with all the mess and screaming and excessive energy.” 

You shrugged, rolling your hips this time and making him huff out a small whine. “If you don’t want children, that’s fine. I still love you. That won’t change.”

Astarion looked back down at you with a slightly gooey smile. “Oh, but darling, you love children. And imagine how perfect our child would be. My good looks and charming personality, mixed with your… I don’t know… humor? I guess, if that’s what you want to call it.”

You smacked his arm and he laughed. 

“Whatever children we’d have would absolutely adore you, I hope you know,” you said, reaching forward to grab his hips in a possessive manner you rarely showed. 

Astarion looked at your hands and raised an eyebrow at you. “Would they?” he asked, the uncertainty in his tone betraying his attempt at being suave. 

“Of course they would,” you said, sitting up again. You pushed him back gently, causing him to pull out of you completely. “Lie down,” you gestured to his rolled up shirt you’d been using as a pillow. 

He gave you a questioning look, but obliged. He slowly lowered himself down as you climbed on top of him. 

“Imagine, if you please,” you said, hovering above his cock and taking it into your hand gently. You pumped your own slick down his shaft, making him throw his head back in bliss. “Our home, full of love. Full of joy. Full of our possessions. Full of your possessions.”

You slowly lowered your heat onto him, taking him in slowly, and causing you both to hiss out in satisfaction. 

“Imagine filling me up to the brim,” you bagan to bounce on your knees, “full of you and only you, and creating something that’s purely us.”

“Us,” Astarion breathed, taking your breasts into his hands, “I still love the sound of that.” 

You bent forward to kiss him deeply, rolling your hips to get him to hit just the right spot within you, making you gasp against his mouth. 

“You’d make a wonderful father,” you murmured. “That child would be yours and you’d spoil them everyday with attention and sweets and some misguided but well intentioned gifts.”

Astarion chuckled while brushing a loose curl out of his face. “I’m not going to give the baby a knife, my sweet.”

You gave him a sarcastic, disbelieving look, and he laughed louder. 

“Not right away, at least!”

You kissed him again, slamming your hips against his playfully in a way that had you both moaning. 

The two of you remained quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your skin slapping against his, mixed with your labored breathing and moans of pleasure.

“D-darling,” he panted, digging his nails into your hips, “I’m not even sure if giving you a child is possible with… with my condition.”

Astarion looked at you with a fear you’d never seen before. You cupped his cheeks and rubbed your thumb along his cheekbone. 

“Astarion, my love, I swear to you that it would be okay. We would be okay.”

“But I want that,” he said, a bit childishly. “I want to see you round with my child. I want to see our babe supping from your breast and sucking their thumb for comfort. I want something that’s mine. That’s ours, together. Something I can proudly show the world that I helped make. Something good for once.”

You slowed your hips again and kissed him softly. “You are not defined by what you can offer the world, my love. You’re allowed to live now. You can figure out who you are and what you want.” Astarion nodded, grabbing your hand in his and kissing your palm. “Besides,” you continued, “bringing a child into the world while we have worms in our heads seems like the number one offense of negligent parents in the making. We have plenty of time to figure it all out.”

Without warning, Astarion pulled you off of him, scooped under your ass and flipped you around so you were on your back, and he was on top of you once more. 

“Then for now, let’s pretend I want to put a baby in you,” he snarled, licking the shell of your ear. You whimpered slightly and he chuckled. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed, watching him line himself up with your entrance once more. 

“Good,” he said softly before slamming his cock into you and making you cry out in ecstacy. 

He started with a punishing pace, clearly desperate to reach his high and fill you with cum. 

“You want that, don’t you, my love,” he teased, squeezing your thigh before placing your calf on his shoulder. “You want to carry my child and be treated like a queen for doing so. You wouldn’t lift a finger under my watch, beloved. You’ll be carrying precious cargo and I’ll insist on doing everything for you.”

You laughed. “No, you won’t.”

“Shush, darling, this is my fantasy.”

You laughed again at his callback to your earlier joke, and let your eyes fall closed from the bliss of his cock pounding into your sopping wet cunt. 

“Our child would never know pain, if I could help it. They’d be the most spoiled child in the Gate. In Faerûn.”

“Gods help us,” you sighed, trying to make a joke, but feeling too good to commit fully. 

“You would be an absolute warrior of a mother,” he continued, paying wonderful attention to your clit. “So beautiful and patient and kind. I hope they'll look just like you.”

You opened your eyes and looked at your gorgeous lover. “Are you kidding? I hope they’ll look like you!”

“Darling-”

“You, Astarion, who haven’t seen your own reflection in nearly two hundred years? I hope they are your spitting image. The world deserves more beauty like yours.”

Astarion looked at you fondly, as if he might cry. “Oh,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking, “then in that case, yes, I hope they look like me.”

You laughed, flinging an arm over your eyes, to which Astarion pulled your arm away. 

“I love your eyes,” he said sincerely. “Don’t hide.”

“I love you,” you responded. 

“I love you, too,” he said, nuzzling his nose against yours and picking up his pace again. “Why stop at just one?” he asked, pulling back and wrapping his hand around your calf resting on his shoulder. “We’ll fill the Gate with my spawn.”

“Don’t love that phrasing.”

“Figure of speech, darling.”

“Hmm, we’ll work on it.”

“If saying that is an attempt to keep me from bedding you every chance I get, then it won’t work,” he said, turning his nose up at you pompously. “I intend to bed you whenever possible in our home, regardless of any guests we may have over, or children who might be in the next room.”

The thought of your hypothetical guests overhearing you made you moan.

Astarion grinned.

“Our little home won’t have a single surface where we won’t make love. Much like our country estate.”

You smiled, gasping as he circled your clit. “We’ll- we’ll have both?”

“I’ll need as many rooms available to me as possible to bed you, my love. And a place to escape the children.”

You lightly tapped your calf against the side of his head and he laughed. 

“Only joking my darling, those children aren’t escaping our watch, they’ll be far too clever on their own.”

“Ugh,” you moaned, “I love the thought of you with our children.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, thrusting into you again and again. 

“Reading them bedtime stories. Bandaging their wounds when they fall on the pavement. Bringing them soup when they don’t feel well.”

“Am I a single parent in this scenario?” he teased. “Where are you?”

“Watching you. Taking it all in and seeing the joy on your face when it hits you that you have something that’s completely yours.”

Astarion’s eyes melted and he leaned forward to kiss you harshly. 

“Come for me,” he said against your lips, “I want to feel you milking me for every last drop I have.”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“And I love you,” he smiled and kissed you again, crashing his hips into yours and making you cry out in pure bliss.

With a few more thrusts, the knot in your stomach finally released, and you came crashing over the edge, images of Astarion holding your child, feeding them a bottle, teaching them to read and write and hunt, filling the space behind your eyelids as you called out for him.

Astarion held you tightly in his arms as he pumped you full of his spend, cooing sweet nothings as he went.

“Oh, my darling, my love, my one and only, take it, take it all, it’s yours, someday we’ll have our family.”

Tears glistened in your eyes as you finally came down from your high. It only took a few seconds before Astarion was whispering your name repeatedly and coming down from his own high. He laid his head on your chest as he had earlier and you ran your hands through his hair.

“Making sure it takes,” he said, explaining why he hadn’t pulled out of you yet.

“Stay with me,” you wrapped your arms around his torso comfortingly. 

“Always,” he smiled, kissing the bare skin of your chest. 

“I do want all of that,” you said. “Our life in Baldur’s Gate. We can figure out how to achieve the rest later. Maybe Jaheira or Halsin will know something about vampire offspring.”

“Ugh, darling, must you mention the druids while my cock is still resting inside of you?”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

He brushed some loose hair out of your face affectionately. “I’d like that too, love. I realize now, I’ve never really had… anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you. But if you insist on loving and adoring me, I guess I’ll just have to allow it.” 

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

Astarion hummed in amusement before his expression became more serious. “Once we kill Cazador and get these worms out of our heads, then that life shall be ours. I swear it.”

“We need to do something else first,” you pointed out. 

“And what’s that, my love?”

“Figure out a way out of this gaudy temple.”

“Ah yes. Fuck.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at the Last Light Inn, Shadowheart yelped out in pain.

Isobel, having been freshly saved from the henchmen of Ketheric, ran to her side to examine her wounds.

“Everything alright, Shadowheart?” Wyll asked, pulling his rapier out of a downed Winged Horror.

“You don’t appear badly injured,” Isobel observed.

Shadowheart clutched her right hand to her chest. “It’s this blasted wound on my hand. Lady Shar is not pleased about something.”

Gale adjusted his robes. “Why do I have a strange feeling it has something to do with our missing teammates?”

Lae’zel groaned loudly, while Karlach merely laughed. 

“Nice.”

[xo2dee]

🗨️ OPIA/GOJO NSFW WEEK 2023 - DAY ONE: EXHIBITIONISM

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Spit as Lube, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Panty Kink, Creampie. WORD COUNT: 5,906. SUMMARY: On a night out in the city, you're not exactly opposed to risk-taking. Or: Gojo and you fuck in an alleyway.

A/N: yes i know it says 2023 but most of this was posted back then on ao3 and i didnt feel like posting over here back then. but i changed my mind seeing as these qualify as oneshots as supposed to a linear story with multiple chapters, so i'll be posting all seven of these within the next week or so. pls enjoy!

JJK MASTERLIST

Beneath the fluorescent lights and the shaking of the train, you felt it. Someone was staring at you, and with the dark lenses of his sunglasses over his eyes, you couldn’t really tell exactly where he was looking, or if it even was him looking at you. And being watched wasn’t necessarily new to you; or, really, when you were watched more than enough times to count by the man who had the ‘All-Seeing Eyes’, you got used to that particular feeling whether it was unwanted or not.

You didn’t mind it per se, but the lingering sensation was enough to make your eyebrow twitch and to run your tongue across your teeth in annoyance. It was always a nagging feeling – an itching crawling along your skin and tickling your nape whenever you knew someone was staring at you, and at first thought you figured it was him. He liked to look at you and liked to stare at you beneath either the shades of his sunglasses, or underneath the dark fabric of his blindfold, leading you to wonder at times if he was really looking at you, or if your senses were playing tricks on you.

Yet when it came to Gojo Satoru, anything was possible and he could’ve been looking everywhere at once.

(And while he liked to look at you in a way, which meant he didn’t necessarily like when someone else looked at you the same way.)

It was a rare night and you didn’t necessarily like taking subway trains, but when you wanted a more mundane night out with your boyfriend you’d take any offer you could. Ignoring the offhand comments about being able to take you anywhere without any waiting time, you wrangled Satoru into sightseeing the city with you, your arm hooked with his and kicking each other in the back of the legs for fun whenever you felt like teasing one another. He’d nagged a few times, effectively shutting up as he dragged you towards a sweets shop and got a total of six orders of dango (eating at least four and a half himself and leaving the rest for you), and when you wanted to move to a different part of Tokyo without randomly teleporting and remaining inconspicuous, you dragged him to wait on the next train to Shinjuku.

Which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best for his patience and easing any boredom, but when it was only you, him, and a couple of business men on their way home from work or just random tourists out and about, you figured it wasn’t that bad. Or so, you thought it wasn’t, until you began to feel that nagging feeling and peeked over at him from your phone to wonder if he was gazing at you, only to find Satoru facing completely forward with his lips set into a fine line and glasses covering any semblance that you could see of his eyes.

You leant forward into his space after pocketing your phone into your jacket, leg thrown casually over his own as his fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt to pull it down and pressed yourself against his arm. The nagging sense that someone was looking at you prickled your nape once more when you moved, ignoring it in favor of jabbing your fingers into Satoru’s side, “What’re you looking at?”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards for a moment, his head tilting to the side and it was then you felt his stare, practically seeing the blue through the lenses as he peered into your face. “Nothing important,” he answered, fingers twisting in the fabric of your skirt as he kept tugging it down – you supposed to keep any modesty for you.

You frowned at his tone, eyes glancing off to the side to the window behind you for a moment until you saw it – well, him. In the reflection you could stare freely, your spine tingling whenever you met the eyes of an onlooker you hadn’t noticed before openly ogling at you through the window behind your head. He wasn’t so open about it, sneaking peeks here and there, but it was clear as day at the time his eyes would gloss over whenever he got the sight of you and Satoru. Not so perverse… yet still enough to make you want to roll your eyes at the behavior; as well see the annoyance in Satoru’s posture.

Ah, that was his reason for the stiff legs and death grip on your skirt… It wasn’t unknown for Satoru to get jealous at times; nothing too ridiculous, just an arm thrown over your shoulders or his hand slipping down to grasp at your hip, but it was natural for him wanting to keep what was his, his. And nothing wrong with it, you felt the same, but you knew at times it was something silly to even feel a little green-eyed over.

Your frown lifted into a small smile, looking back to him and leaning close enough to him that your eyelashes kissed across his jawline and your lips were unreadable to the onlooker, “Don’t tell me: you’re mad he’s trying to look up my skirt?”

Satoru’s jaw locked once your words whispered across his skin, a fine eyebrow raising from underneath his glasses as you had to wonder if he was looking at you that time or still pinning the man with his eyes. His thumb smoothed down on your skirt in intervals; stimulating himself and jittering your nerves before he mumbled, “And you’re so nonchalant about this because…”

Lips pursing you casted another glance to the onlooker, realizing he wasn’t necessarily looking at you as much as he was looking at the both of you. Yeah, you figured it out, and if you weren’t someone who didn’t like to openly flaunt around with Satoru, or someone who didn’t necessarily like it when someone stared at you for so long, you probably would’ve been annoyed and grossed out. However, knowing he liked to stare at Satoru…

“Because maybe he’s eyeballing us both?”

His face twisted; nothing in disgust, but more genuine surprise and interest for your analysis. “For what?” his glasses slipped down, both iridescent eyes pinning you to your spot as you only shrugged with a coy grin and looked away as the subway came to a stop at your destination. A short ride; nevertheless, an interesting one that gave you a new coy idea whenever you felt the man’s gaze linger on you as you stood up before it widened in wonder whenever he took the sheer height of Satoru as he stood up as well.

Interesting.

You kept small smile on your face as Satoru’s fingers found your own, a “C’mon”, mumbled to you as he led you out of the underground subway station and into the night air of Shinjuku bustling with nightlife. Neither you or he said anything else about the matter, your steps falling in sync as you only began to sightsee (for yourself mainly) and speak randomly about mundane things. It weighed heavy in your mind however, flashbacks from intimate times before with Satoru making themselves known in your memories as the ordinary night you had wanted to have begun to twist into a want that began to throb beneath your naval and heat your cheeks.

It wasn’t until your palm started sweating in his own that the atmosphere changed, pulling his fingers and palm away from your own to instead thrown an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and teasing you for the sweat before Satoru casted a glance from over his shoulder nonchalantly. A groan revibrated from his chest against your ear, wanting to look behind you to see whatever provoked such a reaction from him yet stopping short whenever Satoru’s pace picked up and his shoulder was too high up for you to look over.

“Of course…” he pulled you further into his side, your cheek pressing further into his chest, “Y’know, you attract the strangest men.”

“Yourself included?” you teased, tickling his side with your fingers before you gave another look back, lips pursing when you recognized the silhouette of the tourist on subway. In a normal situation you would’ve been creeped out; a guy following you around at night? Yeah, though you weren’t necessarily the most normal person around and had Satoru by your side, and you recognized the dilated pupils he had in the train of the same way yours had dilated whenever you thought back to the many sexual escapades you and Satoru had. And the way you’d never been caught… “What’s the matter, Satoru?” you asked breathily, a coil turning behind your naval whenever you caught his eye from under his lenses, “You can easily remedy this.”

“Well yeah, but I’m more wondering why you don’t seem the slightest bit disturbed,” he noted, fingers dancing across your shoulder as you caught the scent of the mint gum rolling around his teeth.

You shrugged, “I think you’re missing a better picture.”

“Elaborate.”

A light laugh escaped you as you both stopped outside of a narrowing alleyway, his hand falling off your shoulder as you instead reached for it with teasing fingers and a bite to your lip, “Remember that time Nanami almost caught us? You had to cover my mouth so he wouldn’t hear us –” Satoru opened his mouth to intercept, his head turning a fraction to the onlooker just feet behind you both, yet you continued with a squeeze of your hand, “ – but… I distinctly remember you got off from me getting off at the idea that someone might hear or see us.”

Under the orange glow of the streetlights, you could see the blush form; cheeks tinging pink as he recounted the memory with perfect clarity, a lick to his lips moments after and a hard swallow that made his Adam’s apple visibly bob. “Yeah… I remember that,” his hand rose, pulling his glasses off and flicking them closed before pocketing them with a certain heaviness in his eyes, “I remember it very well.”

Bingo.

“Or, y’know, when we were on top of the Tokyo Tower…”

“That’s still my favorite.”

“Or with your Infinity.”

“Hilarious.”

You rolled your eyes at his deadpan and rolled your neck around dramatically, “C’monnnn,” you pulled his hand, but he remained in his same spot, your eyes glinting around the shine of his hair,“Harmless fun? Besides…” you tip-toed closer to him, craning your neck to look up at him as your lips brushed his jawline, “don’t you like it when people know I’m yours?”

Satoru squinted at you, yet a slow expansion of his pupils spoke otherwise for his words. “You’re a… freak.”

You grinned and kissed his cheek, “You love it.”

“I do – God, I do.”

Satoru perked up afterwards, standing up straighter and fully twisting your fingers together as he pivoted sharply on his heel and began to pull you within the dark space of the alleyway. You smothered a giggle when the giddiness and love for the thrill began to welt up inside of you, squeezing his hand only once as you let yourself be dragged into the alley until you both got far enough to be hidden, yet not so completely covered by any eyes that strained hard enough.

Satoru stopped with heavy steps, hand slipping from yours with the slightest bit of apprehension along his expression whenever he turned back to you and towered over your figure, “You’re sure about this?”

A smile graced your face in spite of your roaring want, glad of his reassurance still coming into play. “I should be asking you…”

“Oh…” he looked around your face, hand coming up to stroke his chin as a self-satisfied smirk played across his lips, “Yeah, totally. We’ve done it before soooo…”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time.”

He moved as heartbeat sped up, fingers slipped under your chin, caressing your jaw softly as you smiled up at him before placing your own finger to his lips when he began to lean in for a kiss. You knew if you were going to do it so openly and so publicly, it’d have to be quick. His eyes glinted for a moment, a heaviness to them before meeting with your own as you shook your head, “And there’s no time for that…”

You drugged your words out with a simmering tone, only low enough his ears and only spoken in a way you knew he was familiar with.

Satoru was on you before you could blink, the fading streetlight bulb popping from an impulse of his cursed energy fluctuating out, and you could only realize milliseconds later that he’d been wanting you more than you had been wanting him during the night. His lips molded around your own, mouth crushing onto yours as your back hit the brick wall behind you and he locked your legs around his waist to keep you in his hold. Your clit throbbed trapped underneath your panties, something he was about to remedy for only but a brief moment as his slowly hardening cock pushed against your own want in a slow roll of his hips.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders the same time it happened, a moan trapped between teeth and tongue escaping you as he pushed you higher up against the wall, the brick scratching along your back as the distant sound of shoe scraping against concrete made you both freeze. Your eyes opened only momentarily, enough for Satoru to smack off of your lips with a pout settling on his own as his fingers dug until the bare flesh of your thighs and he called out nonchalantly to the Peeping Tom with a roll of his shoulders.

“Feel free to watch if ya want! But that’s all you’re getting!”

You gaped at his shamelessness, pressing your face into his shoulder with a laugh as his hands trailed up to squeeze your hips. Nearly wanting to kick your feet at the ridiculousness of it all, you could only feel your heart twist with adoration at the overall joy and humor you could share with Satoru; you supposed only you two would be able to snicker in each other’s faces at the idea of someone watching you two have sex… However, Satoru’s own shaking shoulders made you sober up a bit, turning your head to press a kiss to his jawline as you could only treasure carefree attitude he had through all the silliness you two would get into together.

The feeling of your lips on his jaw made him sigh, rolling his neck around until he got away from your face before diving into your own neck. A squeal bubbled out of you, nails digging into his biceps as he kissed your throat first with his teeth coming after that in a playful bite along where he knew a horde of veins sat. The feeling made you squeeze his waist with your thighs, a low throb making itself known once more as you wiggled around to press his dick anywhere near you could it get close to your clit. His own fingers clasped fully around your hips, hard enough to nearly crack his knuckles as his teeth released your flesh and his tongue smoothed over the bite to placate you.

A groan pushed past your lips, wiggling to try and push yourself higher and stow the heat in your stomach, “God, Satoru –”

“Hmm?” He was cheeky in the way he pressed his cheek into your own, flared hot and red with his inhales and exhales steadily growing in intervals and louder in volume.

You didn’t waste any time, cupping his face in your hands to pull his mouth back into your for a hard kiss as he released your hips, tapping his hands on your thighs in a sign for you to unwrap them from his waist. You obliged but only with confusion, jumping down from him as your messy kiss broke with a ‘smack!’, and trailing your hands along his shoulders for an explanation before he smirked and spun your body around expertly (like he’d done that particular move one too many times. Which he had).

Satoru hands found your hips again, walking you forward until you had to brace your hands against the brick wall and his front was pressed securely against your backside, the warmth he radiated generating goosebumps across your body as his treacherous hands moved up and squeezed your tits through your shirt. He relished in your sigh, chin falling onto your shoulder with a sigh as your back arched and your ass pressed into his crotch, “You’re the one who said we have no time.”

He rocked forward and you keened, nails scratching into the brick as his cock pressed up against your pussy and jolted your nerves, peeking at him behind your shoulder with a sly grin, “Yeah, I did, but I’m also waiting on you to get on with it.”

Satoru snorted, humorous and impatient at the same time as he abruptly pulled off of you, leaving you positioned against the wall before he bent down and reached underneath your skirt to snap your panties waistline against your skin. You rolled your eyes and knocked your foot into his calf, a snicker from him following as he leaned to press a chaste kiss to the back of your thigh with a soft bite, “The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout…”

Oh my God.

Leave it to Gojo Satoru to sing, ‘The Itsy-Bitsy Spider’ as his fingers crawled up your legs (like spiders, you guessed) to pull your panties down. You bit the inside of your cheek as they grew hotter, smothering a laugh as the absurdity you two were engaging in.

Satoru’s long fingers slipped into your panties, tugging them down as you arched your back and stood up on your tip-toes so that he could pull them down your legs and off of your feet. A breeze wisped around you without the comfort of your panties, pressing your thighs together to keep the warmth and wetness safe as you glanced behind you to watch him stuff your damp panties into his back pocket. You wanted to snark at him for it, however all words became lost when he upon you once more, a foot sliding in-between your own to kick your feet apart and slot his covered crotch against your bare pussy as his hand slid up your thigh to disappear underneath your skirt.

He seized your body with a light touch to your clit, whistling lowly into your ear at the clear evidence of your growing arousal with your knees buckling a fraction as his other hand moved back to palm at your breast and the two fingers dipped into your warmth began to slowly rotated atop your throbbing clit. The fire in your body grew, the fluids between your legs egging him on enough to move at a faster pace as you could only rock hips in time and push back against his cock to excite him further. The knot behind your naval began to spin, heat licking up your veins to the nerves on the top of your head at the expert way he could handle your body, a bite to your cheek a moment after your pussy drooled more and a long finger prodded at your opening.

Hips rocking forward to avoid him fingering you, you bent forward at the waist more to protrude your ass further and let your point get across. “No time,” you reminded him in a gasp, eyes glancing off towards the side and your cunt clenching in on nothing when you could see the shadow of the voyeur at the opening of the alleyway. Satoru only hummed, the noise vibrating in his chest through your back as he pulled away from you for moment, the sounds of his belt unlooping and unbuckling followed by the whine of his zipper.

“Then I guess we’re doing this the old fashion way.” There was humor in his voice, perhaps at your over eagerness to get him inside of you, and you had to whine when he was taking too long and you were missing his fingers. Satoru laughed softly, “Relax, baby,” a croon in your ear as a hand slithered up your spine, squeezing your nape softly before it curled over your shoulder with his palm out and awaiting, “Spit.”

Ah, he more than likely didn’t have enough precum or jerked himself off enough the lather himself up, a wry smirk creasing your face as you realized it really was like the ‘old fashion way’ whenever you two would have fast and rough quickies in places you shouldn’t have been. Regardless you ran your tongue across your teeth, rolling your tongue afterwards to produce enough saliva to spit into his awaiting palm. You did so, rolling your eyes at his quip of being overeager and patiently waiting for him to lather his cock up, the burning in your body beginning to ache in your spine and limbs for the rapid zealous want.

And, thankfully, he was back before you could miss him too much, the heat of cock sliding along your slit making your knees buckles and pushed onto him as he laughed and gripped himself to find your opening.

He was lethargic pushing his cock into you, a far cry from the oversensitive way his body coiled up and his manhandling against you, yet the slow press of himself inside of you had your thighs quivering, your cunt squeezing on his cock as he blew air through the cracks of his teeth. Biting your lip deemed well to keep your noises to the minimum, however once fully inside he pulled back out for a moment with one hand intertwining with the fingers of your own still placed on the wall, and within the next he wasted no time to harshly push himself back inside with the full expanse of his cock taking home into your cunt.

The loud moan you gave at the rough thrust was securely caught by his other hand, another one you blubbered into his palm captured as well as Satoru started a slow rock and push of his hips, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of your pussy in a way that made your cunt throb and squeeze to keep him inside. He grunted and widened his stance, your body bending further as it pushed him deeper and you drooled onto his hand with a muffled whine of his name.

His lips found your ear, husky yet with the tinge of that flippant attitude he liked to have, “As much as I wanna hear it, don’t wanna risk a peanut gallery –“ another grunt as he sped up just a fraction, the slide becoming easier due to your cunt producing more fluids and your spit lubed onto him, and you had to push back into him to get him to move faster. “One’s enough –”

You’d nearly forgotten about the onlooker, too engrossed with the man behind you and too obsessed with the coil of heat stoking itself in your body each time Satoru swung into you. The thought made you squeeze him a little too tight on him, a broken groan behind you sounding out as he stopped for a moment and removed his hand from your mouth and the other he folded his fingers over yours and pressed his knuckles into the brick. You heard a small crack from the brick, choosing to ignore it as you pushed your hips back into him, becoming frantic in your pace as the obscene sounds of your pussy reached your ears along with the new breathy moans since your mouth was no longer covered. Satoru fared no better, his breathing getting heavier and that nonchalant attitude slowly beginning to leave him as his hand followed the curve of your waist and his fingers found your clit once more.

Back bowing at the overstimulation, you moved, twisting yourself to the side to push one shoulder into the brick as your elbow bent and Satoru kept your hand held into his and one of your legs lifted upwards as you pressed it against the front of his body. Consequently, your cunt sucked him in deeper, the front of his pants soaked by then and you could only squeeze and sigh whenever he groaned particularly loud in a call of your name at the new position and began to move once more. It wasn’t too quickly at first, yet not gently either, crashing into you as he pressed onto your clit in rapid circles as well and your head could only begin to spin and your body could only follow his doing.

You could see his eyes at the new angle too, the iridescent blue seeming to glow in the dark as they traveled down the length of your body, settling on watching his cock disappear and reappear from your pussy before they moved back to watch your fucked out face. White teeth made an appearance when you met eyes once more as they bit into his bottom lip, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow and his head tilting back, “You’re so pretty – fuck.”

The compliment made your cheeks warm; nevertheless you were getting your brains fucked out by your boyfriend, but him just complimenting you that mid-stroke and sounding all breathy while meaning it would always just have a different effect on you. The muscles in your body were beginning to coil, a carnal part of you begging for release as he thrusts sped up more, the slap of your skin against the small sliver of his own filling the alleyway along with the way your moans and cries morphed into heeding gasped that measure alongside the rhythm of his thrusting. A part of you longed to draw the sex out, yet with the way he was putting more and more pressure on your throbbing clit and the way his cock kissed the uttermost part of inside of you, you knew you wouldn’t last long.

And neither was he apparently.

A brick just below your hand cracked again, a fluctuation of Satoru’s cursed energy coaxing your body as he fucked into your harder, “Where –“ his head shook, eyebrows knotting together and eyelashes fluttering while he struggled to keep his composure, “where do you want me?”

“Please – inside. I want – you to cum – inside me.” Your words were jostled by each hard thrust, your shoulder beginning to ache as it was pushed further into the wall from the roughness yet the pain being completely drowned out by the pleasure. You could only focus on him and the ever-approaching orgasm, mentally tracing the spiral inside of you as you pushed up on the leg you still had on the ground to stand on your tip-toes to allow a deeper arch in your back and a deeper carve of his cock into you.

Satoru laughed, throaty and condescending before breaking off with a loud grunt, “You’re insane –“ he emphasized his point by another rough push of his hips, his back bending down so that he could be closer to your face, “Wantin’ me to cum inside while someone’s watching. You must love letting people see me slut you out, huh?” Satoru motioned with his head to your visitor, your eyes trailing of him for once to only widen when you could see the faint movement of them jerking off, biting your lip as the idea made your nipples harden and pussy clench.

“Mm, yes – love letting people – know – I’m yours.”

A snort and Satoru released the hold he had on your hand, gripping the thigh lying along his body in a bruising grip as he slightly pinched your clit, “Yeah, that’s right –“ his back bowed more, bent at the waist so that his whisper would caress your cheek before hiking your leg up higher so that your pussy pitifully taking his cock was on full display for anyone to see, “ – you’re mine.”

The combination of his words and the pinch on your clit had your body folding in on itself, muscles bunching and teeth gnashing together when your hips started to roll to meet him, a sad excuse of your orgasm sneaking up on you to fend it off. It didn’t help that you could still see the voyeur from the corner of your eye still aggressively jerking himself off, the notion of being watched getting fucked by Satoru sending your body into a myriad of different emotions and sensations that turned your resolve into mush. You had to close your eyes to fend it off, however Satoru’s finger on your clit combined with the way he was plowing into your pussy and practical molding you into the brick wall proved to be all too much.

Timing his thrusts with your gasps – in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, inandouinandoutOhGoddddddd –

You couldn’t take it.

Eyes reopening, you sent him a pitiful look, one that made him moan obscenely since he knew what it meant all too well. You could feel it unwind, a devasting fall when you already felt the undermine of your undoing, “God – I’m…. I’mmmmm cumming –“

Too soon your words were took from you, his fingers pinching your clit one last time as the coil behind your naval snapped, your pussy shuddering and squeezing what it could of his cock as your orgasm busted free about you. The lone streetlight that had been the only one illuminating you both abruptly busted in time with your body growing taunt as the nerves inside lit a fire throughout you. From your frontal lobe down to the tips of your toes, you felt alive; bursting free a kaleidoscope of colors tinging your vision and emotions alike with a pretty, cotton pink, a color you could only associate with the man still drilling a hole into your cunt. Foggy and boneless, you left your douse in it for a moments, completely forgetting for a moment that Satoru still had yet to cum and had his cock still fervently pressed within you.

The squelching sounds of your conjoining brought you out of your haze first, along with the tired breaths pulling free of your chest before you took notice of his own ragged breathing and broken groans. His fingers had fallen off your clit thankfully, taken to rest on the wall above your head as you could feel the familiar hum of energy radiating around you. He wouldn’t last long.

You clenched around him one last time.

Satoru cursed, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh enough that his nails began to nearly break skin as his thrusts became sloppy and desperate. “Shit – fuck – don’t squeeze –“ a high-pitched whine followed after when you squeezed about him once more, a wry grin on your face when you watched the familiar expression cross his face that made your stomach twist and another tight squeeze to his dick, “Fuck, I’m cumming –”

Eyelashes fluttering over your eyes, you watched him closely. From the discoloration of scarlet dotting his cheeks to his lips swollen from where he either captured between his teeth or the rough kissing between you both and all the way the on how his expression conformed into pure relief as his tongue whined out  garble of your name. It was enough to send a spasm into your cunt, a shudder encasing Satoru’s body as he cried out and wrenched himself fully against you, a gasp falling out of you at the way his cock pushed against that soft inside of you. His warm cum spilled into you deeply, thick in ropes that painted your inside completely white as that familiar warmth flooded your insides. You released the hold you had on your shirt to press down on your lower stomach with a soft hum when you practically felt your pussy shift and mold to allow more space for his cock and cum.

“Mmm.”

Satoru made a noise in the back of his throat when he felt you pressed down, sagging against your body as his rasping calls of desperation and excitation began to dissipate and you both remained still for a few moments in bliss before even thinking about gathering yourselves. You could nearly hear his heartbeat mixing with your own, his body withdrawing from your own as he slowly pulled his leaking cock out of you while you hissed at the hyper-sensitivity and he groaned at the sight of his cum beginning to seep of your gaping hole once he was fully out. “Oh, baby.”

Holding back a snort you began to straighten yourself out as he steadied you, pulling your skirt back down over your hips and smoothing down any wrinkles in your shirt while discreetly watching him tuck his dick back into his pants. He ran a hand through his hair after that, your back meeting the wall behind you as you didn’t necessarily trust your legs to not wobble if you started to walk, and Satoru joined you with a breathy laugh. Rubbing your thighs together you grimaced, holding your hand to him and curling your fingers in a ‘Gimme’ motion.

“Panties.”

His expression morphed into confusion as he let the word hang in the between you both for a few moments. “What?”

“Give me my panties,” you emphasized your point by shaking your hand, palm out, “I’m not walking home commando and with your cum leaking out.” It was bad enough you were already feeling it… along with the stickiness slathered on the inside of your thighs.

He had the nerve to pout, patting his back pocket where you panties were still hanging out for the world to see, “Ugh, that’s so hot though…” It was silent as you stared at each other, one eyebrow of yours raising in challenge as you didn’t really feel like bringing out, ‘Satoru, so help me God’ voice. He rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the wall, fishing out your wet panties and wadding them up in a ball before slapping them into your awaiting palm. “Fineeeee.”

“Crybaby.” You ignored his whine.

You wasted no time pulling them back on, shuddering at the coolness mixing with your heated pussy still raw and sensitive as he saddled up next to you and threw an arm around your once you were settled. You took a long inhale to douse yourself in his cologne, the scent refreshing from the stench of sex while you two began to leave the area you defiled, and Satoru’s humored tone breaking you out of reverie once you reached the opening of the alleyway, “Looks like your little Peeping Tom ran off. Hope he enjoyed the show.”

Almost forgetting about him entirely you looked up and down for a moment, a smirk lining your lips as you noticed substance you nearly scuffed your shoe on, the same type you could feel nearly seeping through your underwear, “He did.”

A, ‘Ha!’ left him once you pointed at the area, drawing you closer as he bent to whisper hotly in your ear,“We should do this again next time.”

“Yeah, next time we should fuck on the beach in Okinawa.”

“…Don’t tempt me.”

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

I. “the club within the club”

read on AO3 🦇 taglist 📣

parts: next

plot: Bruce Wayne is an angsty mess and you get thrown right into his tornado when you accidentally discover his secret identity.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+ MATURE! NSFW! canon-typical violence, slow burn, enemies to lovers, angst (with a happy ending!), fluff, hurt/comfort, forced proximity, eventual smut, mutual pining, dual POV, Bruce Wayne needs a hug, mental health issues (psychosis, suicidality), substance use, blackmail (or is it?), serious health issues, grief, brief mention of sa (does not occur), gaslighting, torture

words: 2.4k

a/n: this is my first fic i’ve posted to tumblr and ao3, very excited to see how people like it ✨ same user on ao3 :) comments and reblogs are so appreciated! 💖 'the batman' and 'the penguin' are canon in this fic <3 i'll do warnings at the front ends of chapters when there's potential for the penguin spoilers, and for any of the more intense cw!

"I haven't turned in the assignment yet, I'm so sorry," you fumbled with your book and it slipped forward on the desk. Already a week late, the assignment was to write a piece on happenings around the city—the city was used loosely, because it was school policy to not require students in the field for assignments. You never lingered on what might have caused the rule to be enforced.

Dr. Vry was usually the picture of impatience, but not now. Though you couldn’t see the ‘journalistic prodigy’ frame she placed you in, she had a soft spot for you. Late work, stained sweatpants and haphazardly-stapled papers didn’t exactly scream talented, but you wouldn’t complain with your grade hanging in the balance. While you’d done well in the intro courses, more complex material left you struggling. She would say it was all in your head.

You’d never been great at people, though you’d tried—even going so far as to major in them. Four years of sociology had left you still tripping over yourself. You’d wanted to pivot with your last few credits, but were unaware how much grief taking journalism electives would cause. 

"You’re overthinking it." The professor gently shook her head, her salt and pepper hair unmoving in the slick bun. "I'll extend it until the end of next week. After that it's out of my hands!" 

With that (and a thousand thanks), you hurried out of class with your book squeezed tightly to your chest. Thank god, you thought. Can’t fail my last term.

Evening rain pounded your tiny apartment window as you nibbled at leftover takeout. The Family Meal was a steal you were too broke to ignore, even if the chow mein became a bit chewy for your tastes at day three. With your free hand you texted Mar, but knew she was out clubbing. How the hell she’d managed an early graduation with her social life was beyond you. How you’d landed in her orbit when you transferred, and that she’d accepted you as a friend, was an even greater mystery. 

Less of a mystery after endless nights sharing said Family Meal amidst midnight reruns, but nevertheless.

You stared at your dry phone for a few seconds, letting your mind numb against the backdrop of the ever-present monsoon of Gotham. Companionship was a dream long forgotten; the sting of loneliness here was too great, and since you planned to leave the second that degree slipped into your hands, it was no use forging new connections. 

Mar had snuck her way into a crack in the first few months of your arrival. Back when you thought you might find something here; back before you were proven wrong, and you’d given up on this godforsaken city. Leaving everything behind hadn’t filled the void, but you couldn’t accept that it might’ve deepened it. 

Mar didn't usually respond but tonight, she did.

Get your ass to the club! I miss you.

You chuckled a little at the idea of getting all ready to be sweaty in a room full of strangers. 

No thanks, have fun!

Within a second she’d disliked your message and sent another: You'll find more inspo here than in your studio. I'm sending a taxi, be ready in 10

You groaned and threw the phone down. It nearly fell off the couch entirely, forcing a wince. Ugh. A club? On a Friday? 

Men in Gotham were nasty, taking every opportunity to get something from a woman. Plastered across downtown were blistered posters with a faded number to report drink tampering. You should have expected as much with the city's reputation, but coming from a small town left you naive with hope many didn’t deserve. 

The day's exhaustion had worn your resolve and the longer you thought about her text, the closer you were to giving in. More inspiration... she might be right. Stifling a sigh, you glanced around your empty walls and noted the waning light outside. 

Fine, only for an hour.

You reluctantly walked to your closet to pick your outfit, bemoaning the night ahead. 

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself shivering under your apartment patio in a dark mini dress. Mascara and gloss had been the only options, because you’d thought your driver might actually be on time. 

Staring out at flashing headlights threatened a migraine, so you whipped out your phone and logged onto Scypher, a Gotham-area social platform. Mar teased that you were an adrenaline junkie with how often you stalked the ‘Crime’ tab, occasionally grabbing your phone “to see if the loading screen burned in yet”.

Pretty empty. Some car vandalisms, a fire likely caused by some teens with too much time on their hands. Hmm. As unease pricked your skin, you reminded yourself that this was good, this was great. Wouldn’t want to go out during a crime surge. 

You looked up as you heard a tire tempt the curb. The driver called your name, and you slunk into the backseat. The leather was cold, rough, and generally uninviting. Classic Gotham.

The drive was quick, passing clubs practically on every corner. When he pulled up to one of the most elite clubs in the city, cold flashed through you. “I’m sorry, my friend must have given you the wrong directions—”

"It’s correct." He was stern, and when you started taking out cash, he waved a dismissive hand toward you. "Your friend already paid." 

Flustered, and frankly confused he hadn't sneakily accepted double payment, you staggered out. He barely waited for the door to shut before slamming the gas. Mar would get an earful.

The line wasn't too long, so you fell into step behind a few people laughing hysterically. On instinct, your eyes dropped first to their hands—empty—then their pockets—green. Tinfoil. Right. Dropheads. Harmless, but annoying in their glassy-eyed, inconsiderate bliss. Why couldn’t they popularize a drug that made you quiet and subdued, not screeching outside apartment buildings in the middle of the night?

You paused, the harsh reflection of your frown in an oil-slicked puddle challenging your cynicism. At least they were happy, too busy enjoying themselves to notice the stranger scowling behind. What would that be like to be completely out of your own mind? 

God, it seemed like a fucking vacation.

The line moved fast so you didn't have time to find an excuse to leave. You held out your card to the burly, tall bouncer who gave you a once-over and a smirk. Sexual harassment this time, or being denied entry for an out of state ID? No one moved to this city. No one but you. 

He handed your things back, and held out a hand for the club fee. Shit. A nervous look over his shoulder displayed a menacingly-Sharpie’d sign requiring $50 entry, and you managed three crumpled twenties from the bottom of your bag. He smiled, yanking open the rusty door for you. “No change.”

Well, guess I'm eating ramen this week.

Your ears began ringing the second you entered the club, glass-shatteringly loud speakers shoving the bass into your organs. People were packed in like sardines, and before you could even muster a thought you were grabbed fast from behind.

"Y/n!!!" Mar wrapped you in a hug while you tried to steady yourself. 

"Shit, Mar,"

"You look SO good! Fuck yeah!" She smiled and smacked your ass as she led you towards the stairs. You hadn't gotten much of a look, but her eyes looked bleary, inflamed. Not damning enough to call out, not with the beams of red stage lights flooding the dance floor.

"I met some guys that got us a lounge!" 

She was giggling, but you pulled away. You'd already been sufficiently creeped on by the bouncer, and longed for the sweet relief of your bed. "I thought this was a girl's night,"

"C'mon babe, relax!" A green hunk of tinfoil fell from her pocket when she whipped around. When you yanked your hand back, frustrated, she peeked over her shoulder like a guilty dog. It made you soften, but not by much. 

"MAR." You bent down to pick up the litter just as a man came up behind. One press of his hips to your torso made you recoil at the intrusion, and you spun around to shove him away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” A bit of his drink spilled on your side, and you grit your teeth. By this time Mar had stepped up, always a willing wingman. 

"Hey, don't fuck with a woman like that, bitch!"

BAMBAMBAMBAM. 

Impossibly loud, impossibly close popping noises whipped through the crowd like gunshots. All hell broke loose. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They were. It was. Fuck.

You grabbed the railing to pull your shaky legs to the exit when body after body rammed into you, leaving you stuck. Suddenly a kid again, ducking to your knees under the desk, shoving your hands over your head during drills. Crouched now, you wondered what the fuck a hand would do against a bullet. A cool wave of helplessness traveled your spine as someone’s knee knocked your skull against the stairwell in their escape.

The gunshots inched closer, closer, egging on your heart rate, curdling your thoughts sour. I shouldn’t have come. I don’t want to die. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve stayed. What the fuck am I doing? Where is she? Is she dead? I’m going to fucking die, I’m going to fucking die.

You drew a shaky breath that was too loud for comfort, and forced your mind to clear for just a few seconds. What was the easiest place to hit? Images of autoplayed video after autoplayed video swirled your thoughts, trying desperately to parse which position those that survived all those mass shootings had been laying in. What had all those survivors said? What the hell had kept them alive? Luck? Silence? Luck and silence.

A rapid increase in gunfire made you shriek despite your survival instincts. One would fly through the railing, you just knew it. You knew it, you knew it, you knew, why hadn’t you stayed in bed, you’d never shit on your apartment again, you’d live and breathe and die there, no, you’d die right here, right fucking here—

Silence. 

Sweat beaded your entire body as it electrified with adrenaline; you squeezed your eyes shut, shoving yourself against the side of the stairwell in an attempt to make your body as compact as possible. The rough concrete texture burrowed into your arm as you jammed harder, harder, harder… I could be dead with just one bullet.

Before more morbid thoughts could form, you yelped as you felt your body being lifted and slung over someone's shoulder. Something was hard and slick against your stomach, and the world whizzed around you when you dared look around. The arm that held you was so strong you couldn’t slip out if you tried. Relief coated you as the chill of Gotham’s night air hit your cheeks. 

Short-lived was the relief, as a new panic settled in alongside it. Though you were fully removed from the chaos, the man wasn’t letting you go. 

An elbow was the first thing you tried, but it nearly had you choking on tears as it scraped against unforgiving material. Were they armored? 

You tensed your abs and fought to roll out of his grip. Nothing. Nothing but a grunt from the man holding you, but you couldn’t even begin to isolate the voice while your ears rang with tinnitus. 

So you shouted and wriggled, screaming “Let me GO!” until the cows came home. Or until he let you down, whichever came first.

"Stop fighting." A low, gravelly voice spoke hot against your ear, punctuated by a hard flop of your ribs digging into the edge of his shoulder. Bruises were evidence of struggle, something this dipshit probably wasn’t thinking about. You heaved a breath in preparation of another flop, but it wasn’t needed. 

Without warning the man released his grasp and you slid off, landing squarely in a puddle. If this was an EMT, they needed more training and identifiable clothing. Black on black made him hard to focus on, but the shock of a pale jaw knocked the wind right out of you. 

The Batman. 

“Oh, uh,” the tornado of panic relaxed ever so slightly, and a sliver of shame crept in. “Sorry.” You felt bad for thinking of all the ways to immobilize him, from a kick in the crotch to digging your nails into his eyeballs. 

He stood there long enough for reality to seep in. One, that you were safe, and two, that you hadn’t been. You’d finally found yourself in the crossfire and unless a dozen people died, it wouldn’t even make the news. Maybe you needed to leave before graduation.

“Turn around.”

Batman’s sharp tone burst through your reverie, and you spun around instantaneously. His word was good as gospel. In your year and a half here, a few of your classmates had spoken of being saved one time or another. “He never sticks around. Gone as quick as he comes. Thank god for him.” It was instinctual to trust him, like reaching for water on a hot day.

And his voice brooked no argument. 

The back of your head lit up in flaming pain. The edges of his gloves caught on some hair strands, and you gasped. “You need stitches.” 

A screen lit up on his arm when he stepped back. Your vision blurred at the edges, eyes watering from the pain. "Victim with head wound on Feller and Kelley." 

Head wound. Better than a fucking bullet to the chest. Never before had you swooned over the thought of a needle snaking through your scalp. You sighed out a thank you, half-wondering if he planned to carry you to whomever he’d called. You couldn’t tell for sure, vision much too hazy, but he might’ve nodded. 

In a blink, the masked man was halfway down the alley. Just when he turned out of view, police lights illuminated the space, flashing off the balmy brick. You swallowed hard, letting the shock wash through you. Part of a fucking shooting. Saved by the Batman.

And you hadn't gotten a good look at him.

[lookingfts]

I'm sorry to see that AO3 writers are struggling because of AI scraping. It's so frustrating. AI is destroying my industry and will probably eliminate my job within the next few years, if not sooner. Maybe one day I'll do a longer post about that, but for now: yeah. AI (specifically generative AI) is fucking terrible for so many reasons.

And if it makes you feel like you don't want to create because things will just be stolen, I get that. You have to do what's best for your peace of mind. But if it helps - I'm so happy to see that so many people hate having AI shoved down their throats. Being pushed to use it at my job (essentially training my replacement) is disheartening, but there are still so many people that want real art done by real people. That appreciate the love and sweat and tears and don't just think of art as a consumable product.

I've pretty much accepted that my career as I know it is over, and I'm on borrowed time. But that's all the more reason for me to write for my own enjoyment. Maybe there's no market for me as a professional copywriter anymore because AI can write a brochure or whatever, but I write fics because I love writing. No one can take that away from me. Even if they steal my work, they can't take away the fulfillment I experienced from writing it, or the way it touched the people who read it.

So all of this is to say, if you feel depressed by AI, I 100% get it. But real art, made by humans, still has a place. And giving up creativity because we think there's no point only leaves our own personal lives emptier and less interesting. I don't know if we can fight the machine, I really don't. But it sure as fuck doesn't make what you do worthless. I don't think human creativity can ever be extinguished, because as long as we have feelings, we'll make art to express them. Whether it's on AO3 or somewhere else, please don't give up. What you create still matters to me and to a lot of other people like me.

[n0ahsebastians]

hello loves!! this is my first post on here EVER!!! that's kinda crazy HAHA this came from a special place in my heart, the first noah fic i've ever written (it's also posted on my ao3 account teehee) but i finally decided to post them on here. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! i'll post more if y'all like this one :D

18+ content; PLEASE DO NO READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!!

warnings: smut (not too much but enough), lots of fluff and lots of love.

sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain (title from 'aqua regia' by sleep token)

They arrived late back home. The plane ride felt excruciatingly long and he was so glad to be on solid ground again. The tour was long, long but one of the best they’d done in a long time. One of their favorites, he thinks, as he’s grabbing his luggage from the carousel. The airport’s quiet; an almost ominous humming sounds from the escalators moving up and down and the lights above them. The few people that are flying late are sleeping in the chairs near gates or waiting for their rides to arrive out front. The guys and crew assist in hauling the equipment out to the bus, pulling suitcases of clothes and instruments and whatever else they can grab in the meantime. It’s freezing outside, colder than the weather they just left hours ago. Goddamn East Coast winters.

He can’t wait to get home, to the comfort of his own space again. To his kitchen, his couch, his bed, her. 

He keeps looking at the last text she sent him before he boarded the plane, see you so soon, be safe. i love you ❤️ 

She was asleep hours ago; time differences are a bitch but he replied to her anyways  just landed. on our way home. love you baby 😚

He can’t stop smiling at the message, knowing he would see her again in mere minutes. The thought of holding her again, kissing her, lying next to her for the first time in 3 months, was enough to make this whole tour worth it. 

Years ago when they first met, it was nothing more than a few words here and there between them. He dropped out of high school, she continued her studies. He started a band, she became an event manager. They stayed in touch here and there over the years but nothing was ever serious. They didn’t want to complicate things within their lives, disrupt the process or the flow.

But then the calls became more frequent. The texts became flirty, they were telling each other about their days and making sure to check in on one another. She called him when she was having rough days and he did the same. He was always willing to make the time to talk to her, to calm her down, get her breathing under control again. He was her lifeline you could say, in more ways than one. 

Then there was that time they Facetimed and she told him she missed him. How she missed seeing him everyday. How she missed coming home to him and even the little things like holding his hand and watching movies together. They’d only officially been together three months, but there was something there. Something so much more than just phone calls and long distance texts. It was something real.

It started innocently. Until it wasn’t so much.

“How much do you miss me?”

She could see a gleam in his eye, one she hadn’t seen before but she liked it. A lot.

“So much.” Her voice was soft, her t-shirt was riding up over her thigh; he could see the soft skin of her hip in the glow of the lamp from their bedroom; she was only wearing underwear and all he wanted was to put his mouth there. Fucking hell.

“I fucking miss you so much.” 

His words made her stomach flutter and she hummed softly. She watched as he shifted on the hotel bed, adjusting the laptop to have a better view of her. 

“Can we…do something?” He sounded so nervous, he didn’t know why he was nervous but he was. Maybe because this woman was absolutely sexy and he wanted her so bad. Wanted everything with her. He didn’t know it then but he’d always wanted her.

“Yeah.” 

“I wanna see you,” he said lowly, running his hand through his hair, “all of you.”

She gulped, trying to process his words. They had never done this, any of this. They hadn’t even taken that step yet. It excited her that he wanted this with her. That closeness, that intimacy. Finally.

“Noah…I-“

“Do you trust me?”

She took a deep breath, smiling softly at him. She did. She always had.

“Yes.”

“I got you. Trust me, baby.”

She loved hearing him call her that. It slipped off his tongue so effortlessly. His tongue. She started thinking about the way it would feel on her body then, how he’d kiss her, mouth at her to bring her to the edge. It suddenly made her squeeze her thighs together. Noah noticed, smiling at her from the laptop screen.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” He situated the laptop screen so she could see the length of his body now, his sweats clinging to his long legs and his bare chest in view, tattoos on full display. 

“You. I’m…thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

She was embarrassed. How was she supposed to tell him she was thinking about his tongue inside of her, how she wanted to feel his lips on her skin and his fingers tracing the skin of her hips, her thighs, his teeth nipping at her stomach and everywhere he could, when they hadn’t even made it to that point yet?

“Tell me.” His voice was low, sexy. It made her entire body ignite.

“Your…tongue.” There it was. She felt her cheeks heat at her own words. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. 

“Fuck. Tell me more.”

“Noah…”

“Baby, there’s no one else here. Just you and me,” he assured her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax herself, tried to think of something that wouldn’t make her want to bail out of this. There was no way she could now; she told him she wanted his tongue on her. She was in too deep now.

“Honey, look at me.” His voice was soft, caring. He was sweet, so sweet, and she adored that about him. He knew she was just as nervous as him, just as vulnerable. This was a big step for them. For her even. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in years. There had been no one after high school. Until Noah.

When she was finally able to look at him again, he was smiling sweetly. God she wished he was here with her. Wished she could touch him and hold him and kiss him. Lay next to him, inhaling his body wash and hints of cologne that still lingered on his skin.

“Just trust me, okay?” he says finally. She closes her eyes and nods again, keeping eye contact with him as she begins to remove her shirt. He stops her though.

“No, leave that on. Take off your underwear.”

Fuck. Fuck.

She bit her lip, lying back against the headboard. She hooked her fingers into the thin material, slowly sliding it down her legs. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she tossed them onto the floor. She folded her legs over one another, pulling her t-shirt down a bit so her lower half was hidden from the camera. 

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now. Kiss you.”

She decided to finally play along. She was feeling braver now that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Where would you touch me?” She ran her fingertips over the sheets, looking up at the camera just as she heard him softly whimper. 

“Between your legs. Fuck, you’d be so warm and wet. You’re wet now aren’t you?”

She was. She could feel the heat between her legs and she needed something. Needed a release. 

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.”

She hesitated before slowly parting her legs, making sure he could see her. She heard him gasp when she touched her fingers to herself, laid her head back against the pillows. She started slowly, listening to his breathing become more and more ragged. This was so out of her element, but she was loving the reaction she was getting out of him.

“Fuck, you look so good. I wish I was there with you.”

“Mmm…Noah…”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Talk to me more.” She started moving her fingers faster, not too fast though. She didn’t want to come yet. 

“Does it feel good, you touching yourself?”

She nodded. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Mm…s’good…” She moaned, making the fabric of his sweats tighten. Fucking hell.

“What was that you were saying about my tongue? You want me to taste you, don’t you?” 

She whimpered, her legs tensing at his words. Yeah, that’s all she was thinking about. His tongue inside of her. It was making her brain short circuit. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I wanna taste you so bad, you have no idea.” He practically growled as he continued watching her fingers move in and out of herself. It was the fucking dirtiest, but hottest thing he’d seen, probably ever. And it was driving him crazy.

“Fuck, look at you right now. You look incredible.”

That made her sigh softly, a smile forming across her lips and her brow creasing as she continued to touch herself. She needed him to keep talking though, the silence was not helping her.

“Keep going.”

He groaned, palming himself through his sweats. She sounded heavenly, like nothing he’d

ever heard before. Everything about her was unreal. 

“Spread your legs more. So I can see you come.”

She did, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t in the room with her and was thousands of miles away in a hotel, watching her through a laptop screen. She tried to bite her lip to keep quiet but he didn’t want that. He needed her to make more noises. 

“I wanna hear you. Don’t be shy anymore.”

“Fuck, it…feels so good.” Her moans were the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He could

feel his sweats tightening some more and he wanted to touch himself so fucking badly. So he did. 

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Fuck, please,” she whined, her fingers moving faster.

“You’re so sexy like this, Jesus fuck.” He wished he could see the way she looked when she was coming. The moans and whimpers leaving her mouth as she fucked her fingers in and out of herself was the hottest thing he’d ever seen or heard. 

“Noah…I’m…”

“I know, baby. Come for me.” 

That was it. She gasped, her release hitting her harder than she wanted it to. She came on her fingers, her legs shaking and her toes curling. Watching her fall apart from his words was enough for him to finish himself and he wasn’t far behind her. 

She pulled her t-shirt back down over her legs, lying sideways on the bed again so she could see him. Her cheeks were flushed, so were his. She smiled lazily at him and he did the same. 

“Think I need to shower now,” he said, making her giggle. She didn’t even know he was touching himself until she saw him wipe his hand on a towel hanging from the chair next to the dresser. It made her legs squeeze together all over again.

“I wish you were here,” she said, her fingers reaching up to the screen. He smiled at her again.

“I know, me too.” He mirrored her actions, placing his fingers against hers.

“Umm…that was…”

“Hot.”

She giggled again and he wanted to kiss her so badly. He wished he was home with her

now. 

“Yeah. Maybe we could…try it for real. You know…when you…come home.”

He smiled again, his lips curving up in the widest grin, making his eyes crinkle in  

the corners. 

“I am absolutely not taking my hands off of you when I get home.”

And she knew he meant it.

He’s home now and all he can think about is lying down. He’s exhausted and feels like a 200-pound weight has just attached itself to his shoulders. He tells Matt and Jolly they can unload the truck in the morning after they all sleep. It’s almost 2am and he just needs to lie down. That’s all he’s thinking about. And her. 

The three of them enter the house after the rest of the group heads out, saying they’ll see each other in the morning for breakfast and some much needed relaxation outside of a busy tour schedule. 

He unlocks the door, tossing his bag in the corner by the couch, not even bothering to bring it the fifteen extra steps into his bedroom. He doesn’t care, he’ll take care of it later. 

Jolly and Matt go their separate ways as well, hugs and goodnights are traded before Noah makes his way to his room finally. He quietly opens the door so as to not wake her. She’s fast asleep when he squeezes into the room, shutting the door softly and locking it. He doesn’t really need to lock it but it’s been three fucking months since he’s been home and he wants to just spend as much time with her as possible in the confines of their bedroom. 

She stirs gently as he makes his way around the bedroom, opening drawers to grab fresh boxers and a clean t-shirt. A routine he hasn’t been used to in months. She’s wearing one of his shirts, he sees now, the way it hugs the curves of her body so fucking well, it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip.

It’s been two years now. Two years since they decided to try this thing out. Besides his friends and the band and all the other things he worked endless hours to make his own, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was everything to him, she was his lifeline. 

He changes into his clean clothes, tossing his traveling wear into the hamper by the bathroom. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to function for a few more minutes to brush his teeth. Turning the water on wakes her up and he swears under his breath as he attempts to crack the door to keep the light out of her eyes. It’s too late though, she’s up now. 

He rinses his mouth out, turning off the water just as the door opens to reveal his very sleepy but incredibly beautiful girlfriend. She smiles lazily at him, reaching up to embrace him in a hug. He laughs gently as he reaches down to wrap his arms under her thighs and hitch them around his waist. The feel of her skin against his after all this time, the warmth of her breath, the goosebumps that raise on her legs as he runs his thumbs over the skin. This. This is all worth it.

“Hi baby,” he kisses her forehead, her cheek, holding her tightly against him. 

“Hi bub,” she says into the skin of his neck. He hears her sniffle and she pulls her face away to rest their foreheads together. He kisses her for the first time in three months, forceful but full of love and everything they missed while they were separated from one another. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says against her lips. She presses her hands into his face, holding his jaw and rubbing her thumbs over the smile lines in his cheeks. He feels tears running down her cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb.

“I missed you so bad.”

“You smell so good,” he says, pulling away from their kiss to press his nose into her neck. She giggles, wrapping her fingers in his hair which he’s cut a bit more since the last time they saw each other.

“You cut your hair.”

“Not much. Just a little bit off the back.” He runs his hand through it, keeping one underneath her legs which are still wrapped around him.

“It looks good,” she smiles, placing another kiss to his lips. She feels him smile against it, turning off the bathroom light and walking them to their bed. He lays her down against the sheets, lifting her shirt to press kisses to her stomach. She giggles again, her fingers in his hair as he continues down her body.

“Noah, it’s 2am,” she says, with no indication that she wants him to stop. He hums, taking one of her hands from his hair and intertwining their fingers. The gesture makes her stomach flutter, she loves when he does that.

“You’re not convincing me of anything.” He kisses her hip, tugging at the material of her underwear to expose more skin. She looks down to watch him, his tongue running the length of her hip bone and she bites her lip.

“You need sleep, bub.” A sigh leaves her lips as he tugs down her underwear. His fingertips against the skin of her thighs raises more goosebumps and she lifts her legs to kick them off. He laughs gently. 

“I know,” another kiss to her hip, “fucking exhausted”, open mouthed kiss to her pelvic bone, “but I just want to be with you for a little bit.” He looks up at her through his eyelashes and she really can’t resist this man no matter how hard she tries. He has her in too deep. He’s drawing circles in the skin of her thigh, she traces her finger over the tattoo on his throat, her favorite, and feels his pulse quicken at her touch. He kisses her wrist, her thumb running over his bottom lip. Touches that they’re trying to memorize again.

“Yeah, okay.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “‘Yeah okay what?’”

“Yeah, okay. Put your mouth on me then.”

He smiles at her. “There she is.” He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before bringing her legs to rest over his shoulders. Her fingers find their home in his hair again, tugging gently as he presses his tongue to the skin of her thigh. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, moving closer to where she’s needed him the last three months. His breath is warm, icy from his toothpaste. The combination against her center sets her whole body on fire. 

“I missed–unhh!” 

“Sshh, ssh ssh you’re so loud,” he laughs gently against her, the vibration making her gasp softer this time. His hand flies up to cover her mouth. 

“Sorry, shit.” 

He laughs against her thigh. “Be quiet for me.”

She closes her eyes, letting his lips make their way back to her center. He blows against her before pressing his tongue into her, a groan leaving his lips as she presses her heels into his shoulder blades. It feels so good, not just the sex but this. Him. Being with him again. Her hands in his hair, his hands on her legs, everywhere on her skin. He was her home. They both needed this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against her, bringing her back from her thoughts. She moans again, her hips lifting to meet his mouth, his tongue moving against her in the most sensual way, she feels like she might explode from this entire moment. 

“Love…you…” she manages to say between heedy breaths and tugs of his hair.

“Fucking love you.”

“Noah…baby, I–gonna…”

“I know, baby, doing so good for me. Come for me,” he breathed against her. She absolutely hated when he said things like that, it made her come too fast. She wanted to sit on his face, fuck his mouth forever. Besides making love, this was their favorite. 

“Stop…saying that…”

“What, that you’re being so good for me?” He tongued at her again, her legs shaking against his head. She gasped as she came against his mouth, her heels pressing farther into his shoulder blades if that was at all possible. She tugged at his hair again as he coaxed her down from her first orgasm in almost three months (there were several Facetime calls but they weren’t always alone to have phone sex and the release was everything she needed).

He hummed against her before pressing several kisses to the inside of her thighs. She nearly smacked him for getting her off so quickly.

“Fuck off,” she laughed, sitting up to pull him from between her legs. “Get up here and kiss me.”

He did. He smiled against her lips, his tongue pressing into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and she didn’t exactly hate it. He breathed into her mouth, laying back against the headboard and bringing her with him. She laughed gently, reaching down to lift her shirt over her head. Noah’s eyes widened, staring at her naked body in front of him again for the first time in three fucking months. The longest three months of his life. 

“Are you gonna take your clothes off, fool?”

Fuck he loved this woman so much. He leaned forward to bite down gently on her bottom lip, a gentle moan leaving her.

“I can’t when you’re sitting on me, you ass.”

“You started this,” she jabbed at his chest then reached down to drag her fingers along the waistband of his boxers. She started tracing his tattoos again, the letters and the scriptures he had, all his anime characters across his sternum and thighs. She was distracted, he was distracting. His body and his hands and his lips and everything about him. He lifted her chin to look at him. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. 

“Hi. You went away again.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just…missed this.” She traced the ink on his chest again, placing a kiss to

the skin there. 

“Me too.” 

She pressed a kiss to his chin, then up to his lips. His hands came to rest on her bare waist, slowly dragging her center across his clothed one. She moaned into his mouth, digging her fingers into his chest. 

“And I missed your mouth but I wanna make love to you before we go to sleep.” 

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forward so he was on top of her again. He kissed her neck, down her arms, across her breasts, her nipples. He swiped his tongue across the nub, earning a low moan from her again. He trailed his lips down to her stomach, open mouthed kisses pressed against her thighs and hips. 

When he reached her ankles, he lifted her leg so he could press one last kiss to her tattoo there, earning another giggle from the beautiful woman beneath him. 

“I love you.”

She smiled up at him as he stood from the bed to remove his boxers. She could feel her body heating up again as he came to rest over her, lifting one of her arms above her head and intertwining their fingers. He spread her legs gently, pressing his fingers against her to open her up again. 

“I love you,” she moaned at the sensation of his fingers and the head of his cock beginning to brush against her. She closed her eyes, her lips falling open as he pressed their foreheads together and rolled his hips forward gently to meet hers. It felt like the whole room went still, their fingers squeezing one anothers above her head and his other hand on her thigh, dragging it up to wrap around his waist. 

“Fuck, I missed this, you feel…so fucking good.” Noah began to move slowly, careful to not hurt her or go too fast. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

“Oh my…Noah…”

“Fuck, baby…can you come for me again?”

“Mhm.” 

She was close again, he could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake again and the way she was whimpering into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his shoulder, digging into his skin as he rocked against her gently.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I went this long without you,” he breathes out, a low chuckle coming from her lips. 

“I missed you…so much.”

“Fuck…I missed you.”

“Noah..unhh…”

That sound. That fucking sound. He was absolutely gone for this woman. She was everything to him.

“Come for me, baby. I…I got you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, she tensed around him and gripped the skin of his shoulder again. The feel of her coming around him was enough for him to lose his fucking mind; he wasn’t far behind her, groaning into the skin of her neck and gripping her hip with the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers still. His hips stilled, rocking against her one last time before releasing a deep breath against her neck. Her fingers petted through his hair, against the nape of his neck, across his back, his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat starting to slow again, a thin sheen of sweat was settling over their bodies and he didn’t want to move, wanted to stay like this with her forever. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she finally said as he was lying on top of her. He chuckled, placing a kiss to her cheek. He tried to get up but she pulled him back down on top of her. He smiled at her.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

“Did you guys have fun though?” Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, her collarbones glistening and a red mark was forming in the corner of her mouth from where he’d bit down on her lip. Goddamn she was so beautiful. 

“Yeah we did. Always do.”

“I’m proud of you bub,” she whispered, running her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He smiled lazily down at her, pressing his lips to hers gently. She hummed, parting her lips to let his tongue press against hers again.

“I love you so much,” he says, rubbing their noses together. Another hum from her.

“I love you.”

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

A little tribute to my fav boys and some belated art for Bi Awareness and Visibility (since the specified week and day has passed, but September will always be Bi Month for me). You can also view Acknowledged on AO3. It has also been a while since I've posted Teen Wolf and Sterek art (since last year? Oops). Don't worry, I'm changing that for October. I have some fun stuff I'll be posting up within the next few weeks, so hang tight! 😉✨

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Day 1: Non sexual intimacy @bucktommyfluffebruary

I'm already a day behind and it's only day 2 🤦‍♀️ But I'm still planning on doing the full 28 days.

(whether or not they'll be posted within the next 27 days however remains to be seen)

A lover's touch (AO3)

Tommy takes care of Buck after he gets discharged from hospital in 8x05

---

"You don't have to do all this." Buck insisted as Tommy helped him into his truck. He'd just gotten discharged from hospital, with a prescription for painkillers and doctor's orders to take it easy for at least a few days.

One of the nurses had given him scrubs to wear after Tommy had insisted he couldn't put his uniform back on "It's covered in pumpkin guts, Evan.", and he'd reluctantly agreed, and carefully gotten changed in a bathroom, despite Tommy reminding him it wasn't like he'd never seen him in his underwear before.

"And how would you get home if I didn't?" Tommy asked, pulling Buck from his thoughts.

"I could've just gotten an Uber..."

"Oh, sure. You want me to just... leave you here, go home, wait for you to get home with your paid ride, then drive over to your place to see how you're doing - wait, would I be allowed to come over? Or would you just text me to tell me you're fine?" Tommy deadpanned.

Buck rolled his eyes and let Tommy fasten his seatbelt while mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like "bitch"

Tommy ignored him and gave his knee a quick squeeze, before closing the door and jogging to the other side of his truck and getting behind the wheel.

"Your place or mine?" He asked as he started the engine.

"Mine." Buck sighed. "I want to get out of these scrubs and I don't have old sweats and hoodies at yours. I only bring my sexy clothes when I'm staying over." he said, trying to sound less like a petulant child and more like the hot sexy man he wanted Tommy to see him as.

"Alright, yours it is." Tommy laughed a little and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. "Do you mind if we stop for food or did you want to attempt to cook with that shoulder?" he quickly glanced at his boyfriend, eyebrow raised, daring him to deny that wasn't exactly what he was planning.

"Only if we can get a greasy burger and fries. I'm done being healthy for today."

"Deal."

By the time they got to Buck's loft and had something to eat, he was feeling more and more grimy and restless in the uncomfortable scrubs.

How medical staff could wear those all day every day he'd never know.

Tommy was clearing up after their meal and had started a load of laundry, and had been waiting on Buck's hand and foot since the moment they'd walked through the door.

It was sweet but also a bit frustrating. Buck was used to taking care of himself, he hadn't had anyone fluff his pillow or adjust his blanket since he was a kid and Maddie used to read him a story before bed.

"Are you comfortable enough in that chair? Do you want an extra pillow? I think you can have more painkillers in about half an hour if you need them."

"No, no I'm ok. I just... kinda feel gross. I think I’m just going to take a shower. I feel like I'm still covered in pumpkin guts."

"I can assure you, you're not. You look just like you did when we woke up this morning." Tommy told him.

"oh great, so I look like I just woke up." Buck complained.

Tommy smiled but decided not to take the bait.

"Yep. Cute, a little pouty, and very kissable." he said and kissed Buck to prove his point. "Do you need any help with that shower?"

"I can wash myself, Tommy, I'm not an invalid."

"No, but you currently only have one fully functioning arm, and the doctor said not to lift it above your head for at least a few days."

"I'll be fine." Buck said a little too harshly, and immediately felt bad. "I'll let you know if I need help."

Tommy nodded.

"Sure. You know where to find me."

He went upstairs to find something more comfortable to wear, and smiled at the sight of one of Tommy's cut off hoodies and his spare charger on what had become his side of the bed.

They were going on six months together and things were going well. He was happy and settled in a way he hadn't felt since... pretty much ever, and he hoped Tommy felt the same.

He debated stealing Tommy's hoodie, but decided to go for something that would keep his shoulder somewhat warm. Warm and cold compresses is what he vaguely remembered the doctor saying. He'd been slightly preoccupied with the curse, as well as wanting to look good for Tommy, and hoping Eddie wouldn't rat him out for practically yanking off the hospital gown when Tommy texted to ask what room he was in.

Suddenly noises from the TV drifted up to the bedroom and it made him happy to know Tommy felt comfortable enough in his space to make himself at home, and doing something as mundane as switching on the TV.

He grabbed some clean clothes and made his way to the downstairs bathroom, pausing to press a kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head as a way of apology for snapping at him earlier.

He'd planned to quickly undress and wash the day off of himself, only the quick part, he realised once he'd turned on the water and tried to get the scrub top off without hurting his shoulder more, would not be happening.

He spent a good fifteen minutes twisting himself into crazy positions and jumping around his bathroom until he'd finally managed to get the top off. He was red in the face and slightly out of breath, but he figured at least the water would be warm and relaxing.

He stepped under the spray, tipped his head back against the shower wall to let the warm water run over his face, and felt himself relax. His prickly mood from before as well as the embarrassment of getting hurt on the job in such a stupid way washing off him and disappearing down the drain.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and moved the wet hair off his face, grabbing the shampoo from the little shelf in the corner. He squirted some in his hand on auto pilot, only to then realise he couldn't lift his arm high enough to actually rub it into his hair.

He awkwardly moved it to his good hand, but then quickly found out washing your hair with one hand was no easy feat. He bent down so he could use his injured arm too, but the movement tugged on his sore shoulder too much and when stars appeared in front of his eyes, he stood up and gave up.

He rinsed the shampoo off his hands and out of his hair as best he could, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Tom?" he said softly after opening the bathroom door. "Tommy?"

The other man was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, while some sitcom played on the TV. He looked up at the sound of his name.

"Evan? Are you alright?"

"I uh... think I might need some help after all... i-if you don't mind..."

"Of course not. Tell me what you need." Tommy replied, dropping his phone on the table and walking over to him.

"I uh... tried to wash my hair... b-but it's not going so well with one hand."

"Good thing I have two then." Tommy smiled and gently steered him back into the bathroom. "Give me two seconds. You go ahead and get in the shower."

Buck did as he was told and got back under the warm water and watched his boyfriend quickly strip before joining him.

It was somewhat of a tight fit for two men of their size, but neither exactly hated being close to each other.

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought of showering with you." Buck joked, trying to distract himself from feeling completely helpless.

"Next time." Tommy promised and pressed a small kiss to his lips. "Just relax and let me take care of you." he said while squirting some shampoo in his hands and gently massaging it into Buck's hair.

As much as he'd hated asking for help, having Tommy take care of him like this felt like heaven.

He'd known Tommy's hands were magic and could make him feel amazing, but never like this, never outside the bedroom.

"I wish I had one of those stools for the shower" Buck mused as Tommy gently started washing his body. "I'd never leave this bathroom."

"I have one at my place. I got it a few years ago after I sprained my ankle getting out of the chopper."

"You mean you fell out?" Buck teased. He'd gotten to know Tommy's crew over the past few months, and they loved sharing embarrassing stories from Tommy's probie days at Harbor.

"It had been raining! Everything was wet and slippery!" Tommy protested.

"And you tripped over your own feet trying to get back into the hangar."

"Who told you that? Melton? Tess? O'Neil? Donato wasn't there yet, so it wasn't her."

"I have my sources."

"It was Sal wasn't it? I should never have introduced you. He's banned from ever talking to you again." Tommy said, only half joking. He turned off the water and quickly wrapped a towel around himself, before doing the same to Buck and gently drying him off.

"Maybe it wasn't Sal, maybe it was someone else."

Tommy stopped what he was doing and narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend.

"Maybe I should ban all of them from ever speaking to you again. Or monitor the conversation so they won't spread lies about me."

"It's not a lie if it's true." Buck teased, sore shoulder forgotten.

"Yeah, yeah, see if I fly you into a hurricane again." Tommy mock threatened. "You can get Donato to do it next time."

"Hopefully there will never be a next time." Buck said, letting Tommy push him to lean back against the sink and helping him put a pair of sweats on. "But maybe we can take a trip together? We could go to Vegas. It's not really fair that you flew Eddie there but you've never taken me."

"You don't like MMA." Tommy argued, mildly distracted trying to find a way to get Evan's hoodie on without hurting his shoulder.

"There are other things we could do in Vegas, aren't there? We could go to a casino... or see a show... or... go see Elvis."

Tommy frowned.

"Graceland? That's not in Vegas..." he trailed off as confusion made way for realisation. "Oh... you mean... Elvis. A chapel."

"Well... Maybe not just yet... but... eventually... maybe? Would that be something... you... would like... one day?"

Tommy tugged Buck's hoodie over his head and gently guided his arms through the sleeves.

"Get married? By Elvis? In Vegas?"

"Y-yeah?"

"I don't know about the Elvis part... but the rest..." He paused and bit his lip, looking almost shy and as un-Tommy as Buck had ever seen him. "Yeah... yeah that sounds pretty good."

[scottxlogan]

Get to Know Your Author

Get to know your author

Tagged by @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea (Thanks for the tag)

1. How many works on AO3? 345

2. Total AO3 word count? 6,632,998 (Yeah I've written a lot through the years)

3. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Under Your Spell (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E) While on a mission Logan’s deviation from the objective takes him down a surprising path when he finds himself suddenly overtaken with thoughts of Scott Summers.

Ever After (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating T) Post Days of Future Past timeline Logan awakens to find himself in a very different place than the one he left.

The Confession  (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating E) After a night of drinking with Logan, Scott makes quite a few drunken confessions in an attempt to coax Logan into sleeping with him. The next morning Scott faces the aftermath of his actions humiliated and concerned about what truly happened the night before.

Uninvited  (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating M) An eighteen year old Scott Summers goes on a mission that end up horribly wrong. When he ends up stranded in Canada away from his team in bitter weather conditions he has a chance encounter that causes him to cross paths with Logan. Logan takes Scott in and grudgingly offers to help Scott find his way back to his team. However, before that can happen the two make surprising discoveries about one another that leads to an undeniable attraction and uncovers a history of violence behind them at the hands of William Stryker. (Set in between Wolverine Origins and the original X-Men film; written as a loose prequel to another fan work I did called Starting Over)

The Key To the Past  (pairing Scott/Logan, Rating E)   Post Days of Future Past Charles Xavier sends his group of teenage mutants out in search of a man who once helped him not so long ago. When the group led by Scott Summers finds their way to the mystery mutant, Scott finds himself wrapped up in a situation he isn’t quite prepared for when his past, present and future all collide.

4 What fandoms do you write for? Marvel, X-Men, Avengers mostly. I've done characters outside of this fandom in the past, but not in a while. Mostly just things within that context.

5 Do you respond to comments? Always. It might take me a moment but when someone leaves me a comment I always respond to them. Comments are what keeps the creative fires alive.

6 Fic with the angstiest ending? I'm such a sucker for happy endings that it's hard for me to write an angsty ending, but in this particular one shot I did and it ended on such an angsty note. Of course I did write a follow up one shot that didn't end so angsty, but this one is probably the most angsty thing I've ever written: The End (Pairing: Scott/Logan, Rating T)  Logan’s latest outburst during a training session leaves Scott discovering just how unhappy Logan is in their current living arrangement with Jean. Unable to keep carrying on the way he has been Logan calls it quits on his relationship with Scott. Desperate to make Logan stay, Scott makes one last appeal for his heart.

Runner Up would be this Bucky-centric Stucky angst I did forever ago:

Gone (Pairing: Steve/Bucky, Rating T) Bucky Barnes is haunted by a life of pain and misery, but on a night surrounded by fear he finds himself longing for the one thing he can never have.

7 Fic with the happiest ending? Probably Ever After that was listed above for Scogan, but just to mix it up a bit, I think I'll throw in one of my WinterIron pieces that had a happy ending after an angst filled journey to reach happily ever after :)

Home Again (Bucky/Tony, Rating M) Bucky returns from a grueling mission to his new best friend Alpine. He begins pondering the path he’s been on after facing the reality that some wounds can never truly be healed. In the height of his exhaustion, Bucky comes face to face with the last person that he ever anticipated seeing again in this lifetime or any other. When one of his biggest regrets manifests before him in impossible ways, will Bucky find the strength to make up for the mistakes of the past and find something even more profound along the way?

8 Do you get hate? I have written for a long time and never really got hate until I started writing WinterIron (Tony/Bucky) fic. I got so much hate from an anti that every day for 6 months+ I was getting death threats and a lot of horrific comments sent my way. I tried to be polite with the person, tried to offer up alternatives to spreading hate, but ultimate after that abuse I wound up closing off my anon asks after having Tumblr for years and never wanting to because I enjoyed allowing anons the opportunity to reach out. I've also put my WinterIron fics under moderation which is sad because fandom should be a celebration of fun for those who enjoy it.

9 Do you write smut? Yes, I have and if you look at my AO3 you can see it's there.

10 Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, I've co-authored a couple of fics with @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea and I've participated in a few Round Robins through the years which are always an adventure.

11 All time favorite ship? I'd have to say it's Scogan (Scott/Logan). I love a lot of other ships and ship both characters in other places to, but that's been the longest lasting ship for me that's brought me joy through the years. I don't always write them as I love lots of other ships, but they will always be near and dear to my heart regardless of my other fandom loves.

12 WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Oh you know I never say never because I've been trying to make this year about finishing fics that absolutely should reach an ending. I found that I have 20 WIPs on AO3 that I want to find a way to finish one day (there were 22 a few months ago and one of them was started a decade ago so I am working on it). I don't want to close the door on unfinished fics because at this point I'd like to say never say never to the reaching an ending.

13 Writing strengths? I love world building and working through the dynamics of a relationship between two characters. My favorite types to write are characters who aren't perfect and have flaws, who make mistakes and then spent time trying to untangle the messes they have gotten themselves into as it's fun to dip into their heads and see what they want to say/do. So for me I think it's fun to step in and see where the characters take me. I'm also good at cliffhangers apparently lol.

14 Writing weaknesses? I tend to get frustrated when there's no response in general to my writing. I'd like to say I rise above it, but when there's literally no response or likes to something it makes me second guess what I'm doing and reconsider if something is worth continuing. In a lot of instances in WIPs when I had no engagement I felt as if it wasn't worth pursuing because people weren't responding to it and those who were were offering up hate to just simply troll. It's a sad day when the trolls are the ones speaking up in fandom, but when it reaches that point where no one else has anything nice to say it stifled the creative process. Maybe that's not a writing weakness, but that's something that really has been bothering me as of late with writing/art in general. If you want a 'technical' answer I think my biggest weakness is I get these 'big' ideas that go beyond where my time allows and I want to see them all through but sometimes veer off into other stories because the idea is so big I'm focused too hard on how to make it 'perfect' in it's execution.

Tagging: @sgfic, @naughtyneganjdm, @stormxpadme, @chaoticgardenbread, @pandagirl45, @psychiccatpanda, @polizwrites, @scottcyclopssummers, @shewhowillrise, @poepoe-thebunny, @strangenewwords, @morrow-dim, @rowinablx @riotwritesthingsand absolutely anyone else who would like to participate. No one is under any obligation to respond, but I figured I would toss it out there to anyone who might be interested :)

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 22- Briefing

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I haven't been posting a lot recently but I swear I have more projects!!! A few oneshots, Canary Cage, DIGEST. There will be more.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

Valeria leans over the splintering, lopsided wooden table in the basement. The singular lightbulb off to the side casting a dim, dull light. Making the shadows on everyone's faces seem denser and malicious.

"I have twelve men coming from Las Almas." She speaks. "I'm assuming Doug will have more but twelve will be sufficient enough for us." She turns to Rick and gestures for him to step forward. He steps in between Valeria and Alain, planting down a piece of looseleaf. There's a crude sketch of what the compound looks like from above. A rough estimate.

There's a rectangular line around the other structures. Labeled as 'the fence.' Dots indicating guards where the front entrance is labeled. Within the perimeter is a house and a barn. Though it's clearly not being used as a barn. As said by Rick. No animals except for dogs, heard by the barking but he's not sure if they're big or not. He assumes so, saying they 'barked big.'

Valeria points to each side of the fence except for the entrance.

"I'll have two men on each side, waiting for the signal to cut their way in." She tells them. "There's two cliffs either side of the compound, yes?" She looks at Rick for confirmation. He nods. "I'll have someone on the higher cliff to be our eyes and sniper. He'll take out the two guards at the front." There's many uncontrolled variables and it makes Valeria feel a little discomforted, but she's not going to back down or risk waiting.

Valeria does her best to avoid looking at you. Instead choosing to pretend you aren't there anyway. You're not even a part of her plans. You have no combat training, she's not even sure if you've even ever held a firearm let alone shot one. Something knocks a box over, startling everyone. A large rat runs out from the dark. It's long pink hairless tail trailing out from behind it. Even the least squeamish among the group take a step away from it with disgust, giving it wide berth. It's either sick or stupid, as it runs towards Valeria. Without thinking she lifts her foot and crushes it. Feeling it pop beneath her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye she notices the somber look of disapproval on your face.

"Hey... what the hell man." Mark says weakly. He's not so appalled by her killing of a rat but by the mess it left behind. Gray and pink insides leaking outside. Valeria kicks the rest of the rat away and scrapes away the residue left behind on her shoe.

"This is kill on sight." She continues pointedly. "Don't just kill who you see, seek out people to kill. I don't want any of them remaining but Doug. I'll deal with him myself."

"When are the others getting here?" Alain pipes up, scratching his stubbly chin. 

"They'll be here in a couple of days." Valeria tells him. "I'll relay the plan to them again when they arrive. You're going to be our sniper." She decides. 

Alain has always had amazing aim. He and Valeria used to serve together in the Special Forces. He was a loyalist who saw Valeria's potential before any others and followed her commands without protest, he was one of the few who helped her in double crossing La Araña. Second to Diego, and formally you, he's one of the few people she could almost consider to be a friend.  She looks at Rick.

"I want you to be with me for the main raiding party." She says to him. He's not as stealthy or as smooth with combat, but he's decently sized and at the very least will make for a very decent meat shield. "Our goal is to capture Doug, destroy the compound, and go home."

Valeria sighs tiredly. Feeling the weariness in her very bones. 

"We'll go over everything again when the others arrive." She says. turning and walking upstairs. Trailing traces of rat around with her.

"So, I'll get a little something extra for housing all these extra people, right?" Mark asks from behind her, following her up the stairs.

"No." Valeria says flatly. annoyed by him. She finds herself excited by the prospect of leaving this place. She's missing the familiar culture of Las Almas.

Mark tries to argue but very quickly gives up. The smart choice, since arguing won't change her mind, only piss her off. Valeria walks into the kitchen, in need of a drink. She digs through the cupboards, sniffing the dubiously smelling glasses. It takes her awhile to find a clean one but she finally does and finally gets her water.

"Did that make you feel tough?" A voice speaks up from behind her. Valeria turns and looks, brows furrowed with confusion.

"Pardon?" 

"Did stomping that rat make you feel tough?" You clarify. "I know you like throwing your weight around. Especially towards things smaller than yourself."

Valeria sets down her glass. Feeling agitated by you.

She leans back against the counter and grips it tightly.

"It's a pest. Spreads disease." Valeria says warningly. Though that's not the reason she killed it. She's not entirely sure why. It was an impulse she had and one she listened to.

"I can think of another thing that spreads disease." You mutter.

"I'm not diseased." She snaps. Are you accusing her of having an STD? Is that what you think of her? The thought upsets her.

"Not what I meant." You shake your head. Shoulders dropping as you lose that combative attitude. "What am I supposed to do? In the plan, you never mentioned me."

The first droplets of rain begin to hit the window. Gentle for only a few seconds before turning into a violent flurry.

"You're going to stay here. I don't need you." Valeria says. 

"You don't need me." You repeat. Sounding surprised and offended. "You dragged me out here just to cast me aside?"

Valeria scoffs. "You're the one who fought me on coming out here."

You look like you're going to say something but think better of it.

Valeria has a point. She didn't originally plan on bringing you, but you wanted to come, and she wanted you with her. And it was good, for a bit. But even before you found out about the lie, you were never included in her plans. Simply because you'd be a liability, and because she wanted to keep you safe.

"I'm not useless." You say quietly.

"I didn't say you are." She replies. Rubbing a hand over her face. That nicotine craving is starting to flare up. She needs a smoke. Needs to get away from you.

"You've said it before." You press, stepping forward. "And I know you still think I'm not as important or impressive because I don't fight, or because I've never killed anyone. But I'm not some meek little wallflower, I'm not a child. I can take care of myself, and I can follow orders." You tell her sternly.

Your words make her uncomfortable. She wants to deny that she thought that way about you... but it's partially true. You mean something to her, but a part of her can't help but look down on you. To her, you're not someone capable of defending herself. 

"You want to help?" Valeria relents. "Fine. I'll get Alain to teach you as much as he can about guns and I'll set you up on the other cliff. You'll be additional support." Valeria doesn't like giving into people who argue with her. And she especially doesn't want to jeopardize you or the mission.

But little harm could come to you or the mission if you're posted up out of the way. You seem appeased at the moment. Content now that you're included. 

"Thank you." You say civilly. Valeria relaxes. Perhaps you're starting to forgive her.

"Hey." She calls out as you turn to leave. You stop and look at her. "When we get back to Las Almas I'll take you out for dinner. As an apology." The words feel awkward and out of place in her mouth. She wishes she just kept quiet. You don't respond right away.

"I'm still upset with you." You say. Then walk off without another word. Leaving Valeria in the company of the rain and your rejection.

[kmomof4]

X Never Ever Marks the Spot - A New Fic by @kmomof4 for @zaharadessert Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zaharadessert !!!!!!!

So when I asked the discord last fall which fic I should work on next, you were the first to answer and I have to admit, I was a little surprised at your answer - Indiana Jones, for my birthday - since the other choices were Bridgerton inspired fics. But as they say... Your wish is my command! I hope you have a fabulous day, babe and that this fic helps you celebrate!!

The fic is inspired by Raiders of the Lost Ark and is complete with a prologue and then seven chapters. The chapters are rather short compared to what I usually post in a MC, so I'll be updating Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the next three weeks.

And now thanks to whom it is due! To @snowbellewells for her outstanding beta services and constant encouragement, not to mention the FABULOUS and GORGEOUS artwork she made to accompany the fic!! You can find it under the cut. To @hollyethecurious for coming up with the title and for grammar help as I wrote. Thank you so so much ladies!!

Rating: M for smut and scary moments

Words: 2300 of approximately 24k

Tags: Inspired by Raiders of the Lost Ark, Birthday Fic for Zahara

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Prologue

The jungle dripped with humidity as the tall man who was undoubtedly the leader pushed through the next tangle of vines and branches on the way to an ancient temple that held the object of his desire. 

Two men followed him - one plainly nervous, betrayed by the way his gaze darted around the jungle and the small flinches whenever the cries of animals concealed within the greenery reached them. The other was a native, and when the first man stopped for a moment, mopping his sweat-covered brow, he approached with a chuckle. 

“Not used to the heat and humidity of Columbia, eh, Dr. Jones? Aren’t you glad you brought me along…” The smug smirk on his face made Dr. Killian Jones roll his eyes in response.

“I’m fine,” he deadpanned, “I can assure you. I’ve been in jungles much darker and far more dangerous than this. You just stay close.” He pushed forward again, stepping over the discarded skin of a very large snake with a visible shudder - not sure if it was a boa or anaconda. Spider monkeys and tamarins screamed from the treetops as they emerged into the clearing before the concealed entrance to the temple.

Killian turned to his companions.

“This is it,” he told them. “Just up that hill. You’re with me,” he said, pointing to the native. He turned to the other and pulled the gun he kept in the back of his waistband out and handed it to him. Killian rolled his eyes as the man took the weapon with trembling hands. He was as likely to shoot himself in the foot as anything he might try to aim at.

“Nobody has come out of there alive, señor,” the native warned him as they climbed the hill toward the temple. 

Killian stopped and pinned the man with a hard stare. “I will.”

A few moments later, they entered. The native lifted the torch they’d just lit high so they could see into the forbidding darkness. They walked slowly and carefully, fully mindful that there were probably several booby traps between the entrance and the idol they sought. Killian reached out and swept aside the gossamer webs that blocked the way forward. 

A gasp from the native made Killian turn around toward him. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his mouth a slack O of horror as he made a vague gesture with the torch toward Killian. Killian looked over his shoulder and could just see the hairy legs of a tarantula. Reaching over with his other hand, he used his looped up whip to brush off all the creepy crawlies he’d picked up so far. Looking again at his companion, he could see that he’d picked up a lot more than he had. He motioned for him to turn around and he brushed off twenty or more that covered the man’s back before they continued on.

A bright light shone on the wall ahead of them and Killian held out his hand to the side, communicating to the other man to stop. Killian knelt down, and crawled, keeping himself from blocking the light in any way. Once he was on the other side, he spoke.

“Stay out of the light.”

The man got as close to where the light was shining as he possibly could, while staying completely out of it. Once he stopped moving, Killian stood and thrust his hand into the light. The moment he did, several large spikes emerged from both walls on either side of them, with a partially decomposed corpse impaled on one side. It stopped less than a foot from the native’s face whose screams were muffled into the flesh of his arm.

Killian turned away, his eyes landing on nothing. He squinted for a moment until his companion made it to his side, holding the torch high again. There was no floor in front of them. The emptiness spread from wall to wall and was probably about twelve feet across. Even with a running jump, Killian wasn’t likely to make it. He looked up and saw a thick tree branch crossing the chasm. He flicked his whip, the end of it wrapping securely around the branch several times and then swung to the other side. Turning back, he swung the whip back over the trench where the other man waited. Once he’d joined him, Killian rested the handle of the whip on exposed roots attached to the walls before they continued on.

They turned a corner and could finally see the golden idol they sought. It sat on a pedestal about four feet high and at the sight of it, Killian’s companion almost jumped in delight.

“We must get it,” he exulted. “There is nothing to fear here.” He took a couple of steps toward it when Killian stopped him, his arm across his chest and pinning him to the wall.

“Oh, yes, there is,” he assured the foolhardy man through gritted teeth. He released him and moved back to the center of the corridor. Killian knelt down and looked closely at the grooves in between the laid stones between them and the idol. He looked to the walls and saw multiple faces carved into the stones of the walls, their eyes and mouths empty. He took the torch from the other man and examined the stones in front of them again. Spying a likely suspect, Killian placed the handle of the torch on a stone that was just slightly lower than the stones around it. The moment he did, a poisoned dart shot out from the wall and hit the torch, just above where Killian still held it.

Killian swallowed hard and looked at his companion. “Stay here,” he ordered him.

The man nodded, his eyes wide with fear. “Si, señor.”

Very carefully, Killian crossed the space between him and the idol. His gaze never left the floor in front of him, scanning back and forth, looking for the stones that wouldn’t trigger the poisoned arrows hidden in the walls.

Finally, he reached it. 

It was solid gold and a light from up above shone down on it, making it sparkle even more, until his vision was nearly dazzled. He reached down to his waistband and pulled out a small but heavy sack. According to his research, something of equal size and weight needed to be left behind in place of the idol. If he didn’t want to trigger the mother of all booby traps, sealing his fate in the process. He held out the sack as close to the idol as he could and, quick as lightning, grabbed the idol, leaving the sack in its place.

When nothing happened, Killian released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, stood up, and started back. A grinding sound behind him made him turn back to the pedestal, to see it slowly sinking into the ground. Killian’s frightened gaze jumped around the room, realizing he had to get out of there quickly. Too quickly to try and avoid the deadly traps between where he now stood and the entrance to the temple. He could only hope he could run fast enough.

So that’s exactly what he did. 

He took a flying leap from the dias where the idol had sat for God knew how long and landed on a solid stone, nearly losing his balance in the process. His next step was the wrong one, however, and the high pitched whistle from the walls told him the poisoned darts were being activated. Killian ran for his life, his hired man just in front of him. His companion grabbed the end of the whip and swung across, landing on his butt when the whip released from the branch overhead. 

“Throw me the whip,” Killian called.

“Toss me the idol,” he replied, turning toward the entrance. They could both see a stone wall slowly lowering just a few feet from where the other man stood. “There’s no time to argue,” he said, turning back to Killian. “Throw me the idol, I’ll throw you the whip.”

Killian threw the idol over to him. “Throw me the whip,” he cried urgently.

The man smirked and dropped the whip to the ground on the other side of the chasm from where Killian stood. 

“Adiós, señor.” 

With those words, the man ran. Killian grimaced and bared his teeth in fury. There was nothing for it. The descending wall was going to seal him in in about a minute, unless he somehow got over there. He ran back the other way and then got a running start before leaping as high and as far as he could. He didn’t quite make it, but caught himself on the edge of the chasm. He pulled himself up as quickly as he could and rolled himself under the wall, grabbing his whip at the last possible moment, the wall meeting the floor a split second after.

Killian stood to his feet, wrapping the whip back up, and took a deep breath before turning toward the entrance of the temple. He was met with the gruesome sight of his betrayer’s skewered body by the large spikes that the man had obviously forgotten about. Killian picked up the idol from the ground and continued on his way.

He’d only taken a few steps more when another grinding sound made him turn around. He looked up to see a huge boulder, taller than him, breaking free from whatever had held it back. It began to slowly roll toward Killian as he turned and ran for his life.

Killian could only move so fast, but gravity and Newton’s First Law of Motion was quite clearly in play as it got steadily closer and closer. Killian reached the entrance and leaped to the side and began rolling down the hill, as the boulder demolished the opening and rolled off in a different direction. When Killian finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he looked up to see his other hired man as still as death. 

“You alright there, mate?” Killian asked.

At his words, the man fell forward, his back pierced with many poisoned arrows. As soon as he hit the ground, half-naked men armed with bows and arrows and blow darts emerged from the foliage that surrounded them. Their faces and bodies were covered with paint and Killian knew that he was in trouble.

The men parted suddenly and Neal fucking Cassidy stepped into Killian’s sight line. He clenched his teeth, feeling the muscle in his jaw jump.

“Tsk, tsk Killian,” Neal gloated, kneeling in front of him. “I see that muscle twitching in your jaw. You know, you really shouldn’t grind your teeth like that. Makes you more likely to lose them.” The smirk disappeared from his face and he held out his hand expectantly. “The idol, please.”

Killian had no choice but to comply. Neal obviously had the loyalty of the tribe surrounding them and could have him killed with a single word. He glared daggers at his professional nemesis and slammed the idol down into Neal’s outstretched hand. He got only a paltry sense of satisfaction when Neal hissed in pain and shook the limb as he stood up, clenching and extending his fingers several times to make sure nothing was injured.

“Thank you, Dr. Jones,” he tossed over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around. You and I are not the only interested parties in this priceless artifact, you know.”

As soon as Neal passed through the circle of men surrounding them, Killian jumped to his feet and ran in the opposite direction. He only got about a thirty second head start when he heard the whoops and hollers of the tribe as they began to pursue him through the jungle. 

Arrows and poisoned darts whizzed by him, but miraculously missed their mark as he ran for the tree line. As soon as he emerged, he started waving his arms and screaming madly for his pilot to start the plane that floated on the Amazon in front of him.

“Smeeeeeeeee,” he cried, running as fast as he could toward the river. William Smee, an old friend, sat on the floats of the plane with a fishing pole in the water. Hearing his name, he looked up to see his friend running toward him with about fifty natives chasing him at the same time as a fish took his bait. Smee stood to his feet, trying to reel in the fish before Killian made it to the plane, but when Killian hit the water and started swimming, Smee knew he had to let his pole go and get them in the air. Killian scrambled on the floats and into the front seat just as the propellers got revved up and lifted them into the air.

Killian felt something funny underneath him and looked down into his lap once they were airborne. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a snake slithering across his lap.

“Smee!” he screamed. “There’s a snake in the plane!”

“Oh, don’t worry about him! That’s just my pet snake, Jolly,” Smee informed him.

“I hate snakes, Smee!” Killian shouted. “I hate ‘em!”

Smee laughed from his seat behind him. “Oh, come on, Killian! You’re not afraid of a little snake, are you? Show a little backbone!”

It was all Killian could do to grab the snake with both hands and hurl it behind him. The plane wobbled alarmingly for a moment as Smee hopefully caught his pet, but Killian was too terrified to turn around and look. As long as it was no longer in the seat with him, he was just fine.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing!! I'd love to hear what you think! Next chapter will be up on Wednesday morning!!

[farmhandler]

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

Thank you @punch-love and @waterme-stories for tagging me! I haven't done these often but this time I thought I'd actually try 🤣

1. How many works on AO3?

79! Based on my wordcount...you can tell I've done a lot of longfic haha...

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

1,479,182 😅

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos

They're a man eater

Distanced removed

A shove towards love

Feel Good, Broken Man

for your sake

Overall this is probably a good representation of how I will always inevitably hop into a new fandom haha. Two of these are soulmate fics, so you can tell I love a certain version of the trope where it's not an established thing within the universe.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Whatever strikes my fancy! Right now, it's Marvel, though more specifically, Deadpool movieverse (mostly poolverine) and sometimes the X-Men get involved. my ao3 profile will tell you the rest.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always! Sometimes it takes me a little while but I will always respond. Sometimes I only respond to the final comment if someone has left a string of them, though I've read every one. Now, if it's a rude comment or someone who has clearly taken away something that is (as punch put well) antithesis to my intentions, I'll probably just ignore them. If it's bad enough I simply delete it (I think that's only ever happened once or twice).

6. Angstiest Ending?

I write quite a bit of angst, but I don't know if I've ever written an unhappy ending...so I can't say! The closest would have to be my shendak fic Break Free, before I had written a sequel.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

Since I write so many happy endings, it's hard to choose. I think my recent poolverine series Broken Men has the most hopeful happy ending, and my shendak series Break Free. I tend to lean towards established couples working through their problems (but a little more interesting than that sounds on paper I think lol).

8. Do you get hate?

You would think, but not really? Maybe because I mostly keep to myself? I used to get into more scuffles when I was younger, but I can't stand getting involved in fandom drama now.

9. Do you write smut?

oh yeah 🔥 I have written plenty of nonsmut though

10. Do you write crossovers?

I think the closest I got to writing one was way back during the cabin pressure/Sherlock era, because Benedict played both characters, there were a lot of fun crossover fics. but it's never really been my thing.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Once someone posted one on wattpad, and I had to get it removed. I think that's the only time!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Just a few times, and every time it's so flattering and such an honor. when I was into KNY, I had some Japanese fans translating and reading my fics, but no one did a translation for other fans.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

A few times! Like water mentioned in her post, I feel like you have to be on the same wavelength and that's difficult to achieve.

14. All time favorite ship?

I couldn't possibly choose!! Though shendak and rent/an do have a space close to my heart, because those was intimate fan spaces where I met lots of cool people (Who I hope are all doing well, may we share a fan space again one day!)

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a lot of ideas that I have jotted down, but I tend not to start a true WIP unless I plan on finishing it. That said, I do have a few. the next part for my broken men series is still in the works, which I do plan to finish if I can execute it well, and I have this Spot/Miguel wip inspired by that one fanartist on Twitter that draws spot every day that I'm not sure I'll ever finish because it would probably have approximately three readers. But I would like to!

16. Writing strengths?

Conveying emotion and action? 🤔 especially for angst. I've been told my characters feel very "real", which isn't something I consciously set out to accomplish but I'm very happy to hear it. Their voices are so strong in my head I just...write it down as they feel it.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

Plot 😩 Also I have a more simplistic style of writing which I like, but it means there are certain ideas I have that I don't think I can ever execute.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

Outside of singular phrases, only to be done by someone who is actually bilingual or potentially with a sensitivity reader. Best to be avoided, I think for most writers. Like @waterme-stories said, brackets or some other indicator is the way to go. Recently I started Ancillary Justice (which provided some inspiration for Murderbot), in which humans speak many languages in a far-flung future. The author very wisely never actually writes outside of English at any point.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ed Edd and Eddy. I was a teenager 😂

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Don't ask me that! Ahhh genuinely I love them all... puppy Wade is a strong contender... but maybe my Broken Men series fic Come Hell or High Water. it's my magnum opus and I have accepted I will never reach such heights again

I'm inviting @muunberry, @shinaka, @thischachamaru, @some-stars, @li-izumi, and anyone else I've forgotten or who wants to do this!

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

7,935 total entries were submitted in 2023!

This includes all entries that were submitted via the Google Form, including late entries (and excluding duplicate entries).

Which brings us to 50,656 total recorded entries since we began this challenge in 2017! 

And, we had 109 volunteer artists in 2023!! Which means that there are 109 prize-winners!

A breakdown of the stats + announcement of the Participation Prize winners are below the cut ~

Want to see all public entries? Here’s a link to the Master Spreadsheet. This omits entries that people requested to keep private between them and I.

There's a lot to be gleaned from the data this year. Firstly, this is the first year where we see a real dip in participation, numbers dropping to the pre-2020 range. There are a couple of probable causes for this dip: this year, I chose, a) not to promote the challenge in any discords, b) not to repost any prompts to twitter, and c) not to post reminders throughout the challenge for folks to submit their links.

I was curious to know how much my own direct participation effects the challenge these days, and the numbers seem to point to "quite a bit!" So, that's good to know.

Secondly, we have finally approached the "data visualization salad" limit in which there are enough data points to confuse the visualization of the data overall, rendering them a little tough to understand at first glance. So, next year will probably see some fine-tuning of the data so that it's easier to digest.

Now, onto the good stuff!

Total Participation Year to Year:

Prompt Participation by Year:

NOTE: The big dips are Make-up / Extra Credit Days. Lots of folks choose to take a break over writing Extra Credit. Legit!

Prompt Breakdown by Week:

Submissions by Day:

NOTE: Day 7 was the day before the 24-hour deadline went into effect. Hence, the big ol’ spike.

Submissions by Platform:

Participation Prize Winners

Winners were selected via a random raffle dice roll made by Moen and span all online writing platforms, including Tumblr, Ao3, Google Docs, and others (like Twitter). This writing challenge is not a contest - no one’s work was being judged for length, skill, etc. The prizes are based on participation only! The more entries that you wrote and submitted within its 24-hour deadline, the higher your chance of winning a prize.

Prizes are a simple black & white portrait of the winner’s character. Most are shoulder up but the artists are free to take liberties if they’d like. Prizes are not commissioned work, so ultimately it’s the artist’s choice for what they’d like to do for the piece. Some artists (not all) accept commissions and might be open to colorizing a prize piece, after it’s been posted, at their normal rates.

Due to recent changes in Discord's username format, this year (and this year only) all winners will be notified by yours truly (MoenMoen) via a friend request and message in Discord. Next year I'll be teaming up with some folks to find a better, more streamlined process for informing and connecting winners with their volunteer artist.

So, keep an eye out for me in your Discord friend requests/inbox over the next week or so (it will take me a minute to get to everyone):

As always, there are a few winners whose artists may need to drop out for personal reasons, and that’s ok! In those cases, the winners will be carried over into 2024′s pool of winners where another artist will pick up their prize and complete it.

Congrats to all 109 winners, and I'll see you in September 2024 when we do it all again!

[sasuhinamonth]

Beginnings and Ends - SasuHina Recs

It's the 21st! That means it's fic writer appreciation day!

In celebration, I'd like to share some SH recs, but in a fun way!!! I'll be posting the first and last line of the fic, along with name, author, and brief description as to why I'm rec-ing it!

Good work, writers!

p.s. - Most of the links will be to FFNet, but if you see purple text, that means it's posted on AO3 as well~ I'm just doing this to save a little time on my end, but I understand some prefer reading on AO3!

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

A Miracle by Eleanor Rigby 000

"A field trip!?" The class repeated. After that, several voices chirped, each of them commenting on how psyched they are for the class field trip.

"Forever," she assured

This is a angsty, passionate story of hurt, comfort, love, and meeting an old love. The story is Modern AU where Sasuke's a model and comes back to visit his childhood town, where he meets Hinata. Honestly, this is the first and only fic that has made me actively cry, and I cannot praise it enough! Please check it out!!!

~-~-~

Okaeri by The Penumbra

She felt his fist connect with her stomach and went crashing down to the ground, barely having time to register what was happening.

"Okaeri, Sasuke. Welcome home."

This is sort of a prequel to the author's other fic "Snapshots: Black and White", which is also a stellar fic. It's set in canonverse, where Sasuke and Hinata slowly develop a friendship/relationship. You'll get your fair amount of angst, but really, you can hardly avoid such things in SH fics xD.

~-~-~

Ichinen by Cinderella Starsend

Hyuuga Hinata stifled a yawn as she stepped out of the door and shut it behind her.

"And I love you."

I LOVE this fic! It's split into 12 chapters, each corresponding with a month. Hinata works at Ichiraku's in an attempt to get closer to Naruto, but she bonds with Sasuke more. I really enjoy fics set in the narutoverse that change things like this, mixing around dynamics so it's not always ninja stuff and war and training. It's a cute story, and the author's prose is beautiful!

~-~-~

Neji Hyuuga: Matchmaker by emilyjm

Hyuuga Neji prided himself on seeing things other people never noticed.

Mission: matchmaker must be completed within five years.. Good luck, Neji!

UGHHHHH! Where do I start????? It's set in narutoverse where Neji's not only alive, but in charge of matchmaking everyone in Konoha so that he can get Sasuke and Hinata together. It's incredible sweet and incredibly moving and incredibly moving, and I love SH fics with a heavy focus on Neji. Please read it, and please read Another Story (sequel) which is JUST as good!!!

~-~-~

When Will I Lose You by @elreinodelpurgatorio

Hinata, Lady of the Underworld, stands in her peach orchard and watches the Doom God and the Messenger God speak to each other.

One of these days, Sasuke, seated on a throne next to Hinata, is the one to look at a wretched soul and say: "Request denied."

This is a really fun HadesxPersephone AU where Hinata is Hades and Sasuke is Persephone! It's a short, magical read that is always a breath of fresh air! The author is really good at coming up with pretty sentences. Highly rec!

~-~-~

What's Mine To Give by WritingHyuHin

After the massacre of his clan, Sasuke had one goal in his life at that young age. Revenge.

The things I do for you... Only you.... Hinata.

This is a rewriting of The Last movie, but SasuHina style! I think it's very believable and a fun thing to read, since I've watched The Last quite a few times. Seeing things that should be Naruto but are instead replaced with Sasuke warm my little, shipper heart. Give this one a chance!

~-~-~

Nyctophilia by Sommernacht

For as long as he could remember, the night had offered him comfort.

"Indeed," he whispered against her skin. His fingers found their way under her fishnet top, making her shiver under the touch. "The most beautiful night."

Sommer hits it out of the park once again! This was their 2022 SHMonth one-shot in which Sasuke and Hinata secretly meet each other when 'borrowing' meds at night. They grow close and confide in one another, and I think it's a loving, deep connection that is impressive to make in just one chapter!

~-~-~

A Study of Mannerisms and Other Alterations by MissLe

Sasuke Uchiha, as it was well known, was in possession of some very, very gorgeous eyes.

She decided, however, that the regal Uchiha nose would always hold a special place in her heart.

Ahhhh, this is probably one of my all time favorite fics! It's fluffy, it's cute, it's funny! I absolutely adore it! This fic is set in a Modern AU, where Hinata is a waitress at a cafe and Sasuke, a member of the firefighter team that comes by almost daily, has a pretty obvious crush on her. These two dweebs are adorable, and I read this fic so much!!!

~-~-~

Uprooted by @kiljoius

Today, Hinata is 20.

“Maybe I can live with that.” Maybe she can, too, she thinks.

Arranged Marriage? Check. Fluff and Humor in a SH FIC of all things???? Check. Witty dialogue and amazing chemistry? Check check check! Without giving too many spoilers, this Modern AU fic follows Hinata and Sasuke, who plan to act 'over the top' in their arranged relationship in order to get out of it. Lets just say it doesn't work as planned for them huhu. This is a really fun fic, so if you're in the mood, give it a read!

~-~-~

This is what I've got for now, but please feel free to comment or reblog with your own favorite fics (either your own or others) with their first and last lines.

@kiljoius @elreinodelpurgatorio @daifukumochiin @catruru @fher43 @gardenatsuntime @lavendereyedassassin @cariata @naoko-ichigo @lavender-long-stories @p-crowds @queenfox352 - You guys, too! Show off fics you like (or your own)!

Good work to all authors/writers out there! We love you!!!

Mod: PC

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER FIFTEEN)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: "..Soldier on, Achilles."

Amnesia is the loss of memory. It can inhibits the formation of new memories and/or the recollection of old ones. Several regions of the brain are involved in the process of memory including the amygdala, hippocampus, cerebellum, and prefrontal cortex. Damage to one or more of these areas can often result in post-traumatic amnesia.

Shizuko sat still, Legs closed and basketed at the end of the table.

The dark spots of his eyes remained enthralled upon the udon bowl before him, Unwavering as he watched the liquid residue of the noodle inside reflect the lights of the small dining room he sat in.

It was like watching fish make ripples in a pond. A quirk on his lips and a scrunch of his face, Tongue bit. He didn't even dare to pick up the lone pair of chopsticks sat beside the bowl, Seemingly went unnoticed by the boy.

Neither did the dim interior of the room, Where the sunlight of the brisk morning just didn't reach the small room. Only spits of radiance shining through the perfect square grid shoji-walls, No thin paper to let the sun from the surrounded garden shine in.

Despite the lack of light, Shizuko scrutinized the Tupperware, Scowling at the meal inside.

"Seriously, What the hell is that thinking face? You're lookin' at your udon like it offended you personally, Aren't you gonna eat it?"

Shizuko jerked his head up at the brash jest coming from across the table. Wide, Owlish eyes glaring back at Genya who spoke them.

Suddenly snapping back into reality, Registering the small dining room that they were located in.

"Mind your business. I'll eat it on my own time, You just focus on yours." Shizuko retorted, Quickly and despondent as he vaguely gestured towards Genya's own majority-eaten portion of Udon.

Shizuko swiftly retracted his hand afterwards, Defiantly tossing his head to the side to stare off somewhere else within the room. Anywhere but at him, Shizuko had better things to think about right now.

Genya's eyes narrowed, The pair of chopsticks entwined between his rough fingers lowered, Dropping into the bowl.

"..You're thinking about what happened back at the old Kakushi Base, Aren't you?" He asked, Knowing the answer not with words but by the way Shizuko snapped his eyes back over to his.

They widened like saucers, Accusatory in stance as he tried to keep his cool.

"Wow, Detective. How'd you figure that one out?" Shizuko retorted, Finally plucking the chopsticks from beside his bowl and scooping up the udon noodle inside. The woollen gloves hugging his hand being the only thing stopping from puking up at the touch.

Genya and Shizuko, The two renowned Tsuguko of Gyomei Himejima. Constantly in competition and combat with each other, Sparring or spat used interchangeably. Ever since they were both younger and in the care of their master, It had been that way.

So with all the time they had been together there was no question that Genya would be able to tell when Shizuko's off, Especially if it had been happening for a few months. Ever since that day in the billowing mountainside, Shizuko had just been.. Strange.

The ticking of his eye tocked a little more often, His sensitive fingertips were just a little more potent. He woke up just a little later, Sloppier when it came to training.

Genya could tell that it irked him.

"Whatever, I'm just saying that it's been months since it happened. I mean, I'm still pissed about it too but I mean.. Come on, Man." He scoffed, Rolling his eyes as he finally tossed down his chopsticks into the finished bowl, Only pungent residue remaining within the ceramic.

The other boy however paused the movements of his own chopsticks, Just before the udon noodle touched his lips.

"It's not like you could understand, You weren't there! You were stuck helping out on evacuations!" Shizuko scowled as he lowered his hand, Troubled face even more gnarly with that expression on his face.

Genya lowered a brow.

"Oh, You're going on about your fight with Upper Six." He said, Starting to sort his used Tupperware into a neat pile. "..You know, Neither you or Himejima-sensei has spoke about it. What did go down there..?"

Genya's follow on was much quieter than his starting statement, Dark eyes honing on Shizuko with a sharp glint. Since the Shrine Invasion neither Shizuko or Gyomei had talked about their brawl with the Uppermoon.

Not a lick or lisp of the event, A seemingly wordless agreement between the two to keep it under wraps. Genya couldn't deny he was curious. Especially since it was the catalyst for his allies discomfort.

Shizuko's lips pursed together, Thinning along with his eyes starting to wander off in what seemed to be thought.

The grip on his chopsticks tightened, Almost snapping them in half.

"..Upper Six, He was.. He was my friend.. Ne, Someone I was raised with and someone I use to consider my brother.." Shizuko whispered, His voice almost a brush in the air or a prayer amongst thousands.

His eyes focused on nothing, Nothing except the blizzard and the electric blue that chased it. Almost possessed, His gloved hand twitched and moved on its own, Covered fingertips raising to near graze his forehead under the mess of his curls.

They were shaking, His fingers. Even more once they brushed against his skin.

"He's.. He's the reason I had my accident, The reason I.. The reason I can't remember anything." His fingers entangled within the wilderness of his hair, Swiftly wrangling back his curls to reveal his forehead.

Large, Swollen and horribly malformed were only the first few words that came to mind. A massive scar where a gash had for no doubt once lain, Shaped like a star and mis-coloured from the rest of his skin, It was hideous and most seemingly painful.

Genya's eyes went ajar. The scar he was aware of through missed strikes of a training sword or a stray gust of wind, All accidents that were quickly covered up.

But now..?

Gloved fingers grasped at the scar on his forehead, Ever so slightly tighter and so absent-mindedly that the disgust of the sensation was forgotten in the moment, Along with the memories of how the scar appeared.

The only thing he recalled from that night was the emotion he felt. Betrayal, Terror and agonising pain. His head bashing against the far wall, Ichor bursting from the wound and the blood loss flowing out along with his memory lost.

That, And his face.

His childhood, Everything before he had came to the old monastery was gone like a drop in the sea. Forgotten in the waves of time, The only thing he remembered..

That touch, That warm touch..

It was divine.

"..I'm sorry." Genya finally spoke up, Much more serious in tone as he looked at him in shock. "I shouldn't of brought it up. Just forget I said anything.."

Shizuko sighed, Hand finally relenting from his forehead as the nauseating feeling of touch returned to him.

"No, You're right. Ngh.. I shouldn't be caught up in it, It's not like Kaigaku means anything to me anymore. He's dead in my eyes, Left us and became a demon.." Shizuko mumbled as he finally returned the udon to his lips, Starting to chew.

Genya shuffled on his knees, Now uncomfortable as the silence returned. The sounds of the early day and the chirp of the crickets in the square garden outside was no longer a comfort, Nor the birds warble in the trees, Just unsettled now.

Shizuko frowned, Sipping up the noodle into his mouth.

"Ne.. Either way, I have another demon to replace him." Shizuko chewed, Now directly gesturing to Genya with his chopsticks. Sly and sarcastic grin spreading his face, Watching as Genya's jaw dropped.

"Eh..?! Oh come on, I thought we were having a good moment there!" Genya exclaimed, A weathered fist slamming down onto the table which made the Tupperware atop shake and clatter together.

Shizuko however, Wasn't as startled as the dishes.

"Why, What's wrong? I'm just stating the obvious here, It's not my fault you're a demon muncher." Shizuko replied with an ever-smug grin on his face to which Genya scoffed at.

"It's not my fault you've got a girls name!" Genya retorted, Scrunch in his nose.

"Hey! It's not mine either, You think I wanted this name? What shitty caregiver I had must've hated me.." Shizuko muttered now with a slight tick to the smugness in his grin, Afterwards tossing the chopsticks onto the table and cupping the bowl to bring it to his lips.

Genya huffed.

"Must have, Though to be fair who wouldn't take one look at you and feel unbearable disgust." He jested, Trying to lighten the mood yet it seemed too heavy to be lifted as Shizuko didn't jab back.

A bad sign, Written in the boldest of inks.

Genya's smile lowered as he lowered his head along with Shizuko's, Awkward tension filling the air now. Shizuko tilted his head upwards towards the wood-panel ceiling, Bowl raising as he felt the savoury liquids enter his mouth.

He took a moment, Leftover toppings of broken seaweed and tofu chunks to chase it. It flooded onto his tongue until there was nothing but running droplets in the ceramic, Shizuko slammed it down with an audible clank!

Shizuko wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his clover-coloured kimono.

"Ngh.. Done." He breathed, Throwing a hand onto the tatami floor (Making sure it was just the start of his palm, Not his fingertips) to push himself up. "..I think I need to go take a walk in the garden for a bit.. I need to clear my head."

Genya blinked.

"Hey.. I didn't actually upset you, Right? You know I didn't mean that, Just said it to piss you off is all.." He admitted as he watched Shizuko get to his feet, Shake his hair until it was in an acceptable position and turn away.

"Ne, I know. I'm just not feeling well, Training from earlier really got to me is all.." Shizuko replied, Not turning back to Genya who still sat though a little more disgruntled than he was before.

He could only watch as his ally dragged his feet over to the sliding door. With practice, Using his elbow to push it open. Shizuko didn't look back at Genya and Genya knew that it wasn't what he said that irked him so.

It was still the Shrine Incident.

Genya wanted to know what really was up with him, But he wasn't exactly the right person to deal with it. He wasn't there, He didn't know his past with the new Upper Six, Nor was he there when he had his accident.

It was best that he stayed out of it, For now at least. Genya picked up the finished dishes, Cupping the Tupperware in his hands and not even getting annoyed at the ones Shizuko had left for him, He had other things to think about.

Genya just hoped Shizuko would search out the man who could cater to his worries. He sighed as he opened the adjacent door the the one Shizuko left from, Carefully balancing the ceramic in his hands, He started to march towards the kitchen.

☆♡☆

"There.. It seems to be all healed now.."

The ever-dim darkness of the false shrine was finally broken by the faint light of a rusty lantern, The amber light flickered against the decaying walls like the ember inside. It sat on her bedside, Right next to the eaten bowl of udon licked clean.

As ever, The infinity castle was cold. But even more so against the bareness of [F/N]'s skin, Her mid-section once kept warm and bound by bandages was now naked, The garments laying in a scarf-like heap on the old floors.

She felt down her stomach where the stitches once were, That life-threatening gash that near took her like and most certainly put her in a weeks long coma. It was a miracle that she was still alive, That she had came out of it without any chronic debility.

So much so that there wasn't even a scar..

"I see.." [F/N] whispered as she laid her cold palm on her equally cold stomach, Shivering in the brisk air, Hair on her nape standing up. A strange sensation as her time was mostly spent within the cold peaks of her Shrine.

Her eyes were focused entirely on her gut, An uneasy-wonder as she looked at the scratch-less skin.

Kokushibo stood only a few metres away from her, The reason the chill had affected her so much in the first place. Her muscles still tense from his presence, That and the fact that she had barely anything on apart from a Koshimaki and a thinnish layer of bandages she had used a chest cover.

His eyes, Six glowing eyes that were even brighter than the faint spark of the lantern-light beside him. They examined her, Her injury or lack-there-of especially. He just stood there silently, Not moving a muscle facial or otherwise.

She knew very well that he wouldn't try anything, No, Whatever obsession he had with her was never like that. But it still made her feel vulnerable and easy to attack. An instinct from her childhood days.

Never leave yourself defenceless..

"..Do you mind if you just.. Leave the room while I change?" [F/N] exasperated, Headache brewing in her mind both from the current situation and what happened yesterday. "No offense, Kokushibo-sama.. But it's just disturbing when you stand there like that.."

Kokushibo's lip twitched, Only a tick.

"..We will be heading off to do your daily training straight after, There would be no point in me leaving.. Either way, It isn't anything I haven't seen before.." Kokushibo replied, Stone-faced and stoic as his voice rumbled in the room.

[F/N] swallowed, Disgust running on her tongue and sweat dripping down her neck yet it hadn't even gotten to the sparring part yet.

"..Right" [F/N] gulped, Swallowing down the nauseating distain pooling and festering in her mouth. "Then if you could just turn around that would be fine, I'd.. I'd just prefer if you weren't watching.."

As soon as the words left her lips, Drifted into the frozen air of the room she had waited for him to turn.

But he didn't.

Kokushibo continued to stand there, Stiller than she was as she waited for him to look away. But instead all six of his eyes continued to linger on her, Wandering away from her injury to her side, Sickly golden slits narrowing.

Had she done something wrong? Was there something she had somehow let out on her persons? What was he looking at..?!

Kokushibo hummed, A single step towards her that sounded like exploding rocks made her repress the urge to back away. His hand reached out, Slow like a knife preparing to cut. Talons and all as they grazed her side.

A burning pain shot through her side, [F/N]'s muscles tensed up.

"I wonder.. How did you get an injury like this?" Kokushibo drawled as he examined the bruised skin, Slightly tugging her around so he could get a better look at where Akaza had jabbed into her.

Her saving shot, Or whatever it would be called, The one where he broke his vow to hurt a woman but aided her all the while.

[F/N] would've rolled her eyes if it wasn't for the ice currently running through her blood.

"It's.." [F/N] directed her eyes away from Kokushibo, Tounging at the side of her mouth to try and come up with some explanation she could tell him.

Tell him that she tried to commit suicide? Her captor of all people? [F/N] still felt a deep regret burning in her for telling Akaza, Her state of mind warped back then, She wished she had just kept her mouth shut.

So there was no way that she would ever tell Kokushibo. Not like he "sympathised" with her or whatever, Not like he still had some inkling of humanity in him unlike Akaza.

No, He was just a monster.

"You still haven't told me how you injured your wrist.. Is there something you aren't telling me?" Kokushibo mumbled as his eyes snapped over to her bandaged hand, The injury she had caused when she had punched a wall into the shrine's structure.

His gaze sharpened.

"..I do hope that my Tsuguko hasn't garnered any.. Distasteful feelings for your prescence here again. Tell me, How did you gain these injuries..?" Kokushibo lowered himself so that his eyes met with hers, Stabbing, Piercing into her.

Her lips thinned.

"..I tripped down the stairs, Hit my side and my fist at the same time. You know, Kokushibo-sama, You should see to getting some kind of banister lining them.. This isn't the first time I near fell down them.." [F/N] responded, Snake's tongue speaking quick and somewhat formal yet she still refused to look at him.

Though for some reason, The lies she use to taste didn't come so sour anymore.

"..Ah, So my comment about your footwork wasn't taken to heart then.." Kokushibo remarked, Referencing his constant jabs at her apparently flawed "footwork". He retracted his hands, And [F/N] tried not to scrunch her nose up.

Was he trying to make some kind of joke?

[F/N] just silently stared at the floor, Almost waiting for his next move as he stepped back away from her. The air much more thick, The consistency of tar. She didn't laugh, Neither did Kokushibo as he continued to stare dead at her.

[F/N] kept her eyes on the floorboards, Not looking up at him. Kokushibo breathed out.

"..Go get ready. It is time for you to test your strength once more.." He spoke, Stepping back just a little further, Feeling the depression of the floorboards move away to the other side of the room.

[F/N] sighed, Shivering once more within the nipping atmosphere of the Shrine. Shaking off the still aching bruise on her side, She scoffed once she realised Kokushibo had turned his back to her, Giving her some semblance of privacy.

Sparring, Even though he knew she was injured. [F/N] stumbled over to the closet not even a metre away. Kokushibo didn't even bat a single eye, And he had many. [F/N] asked herself why he even wanted to clash swords with her.

He knew she was strong, She fought against him a few months ago as a formidable opponent. [F/N] fished out her old samue set, The one she used often to train in. Now she had been turned into nothing but a caged animal to be poked with by sticks.

He didn't need to test her strength, She was cursed with it. [F/N] was the one who killed a thousand of his kind, The one who gave him a run for his own money, The one who fought Upper Three barehand on this very roof for fuck-sakes!

Maybe he liked torturing her, That was it.

[F/N] pulled the trouser half of the samue up from her ankles to her waist, Slipped her arms through the loose-fabric sleeves. She folded it over her, Set it in place. Making sure everything was fine, She dusted it off.

It wasn't like she didn't deserve the beat-downs, It's not like she didn't want him to go too far one day. She deserved it after all, The blood of hundreds still ran down her. It's why she couldn't bare to look in the mirror, To catch a glimpse of that red.

She strained her eyes away even now, Much preferring to turn back to Kokushibo and tell him that she was done. Kokushibo cocked his head to the side, Examining her up and down before he wordlessly stepped out of the door.

[F/N] didn't need words to understand he wanted her to follow, She did soundlessly, Just wanting to get this over with.

☆♡☆

The light filtered through the diamond-like holes in the walls, A designed pattern meant to illuminate the estate during the day.

The air was cool, Not the kind on a summers day but instead the faint chill of a golden hour autumn. A strong wind to blow through the hair and fabric of anyone caught in it. It was strange since it was the middle of spring, But the mix of both leaving summer heat and oncoming winter cold made it feel like it was much later in the year than it actually was.

Shizuko stumbled through the hallways, Wooden floorboards depressing under his minimum weight. He had traversed the rather linear hallways thousands of times, Yet he felt lost in his gait, A direction unknown.

He gazed towards the gardens, Barely lifting his head to catch glimpses of the carefully trimmed bushes and miniature lakes within. It was surrounded by the rest of Himejima's estate, A sort of plaza kept safe in the squared layout of the house.

He watched the water of the tiny stream trickle along the garden, Watched as the carefully made buddha statues held the aqua in their palms and guided it on their course. The reeds and the rye-grass all a vibrant green.

Shizuko sighed, Scrunching up his face. Genya bringing up his incident with Upper Six seemed to make him much more irked than he had previously thought. Now some weight was placed upon his chest, Now some throb came through the abrasion on his head.

The faraway aria of the birds wasn't anything that could calm him, Not right now. Nor the crickets chirp or the trickle of stream, Everything was just so.. Numbing now. It made him grimace as he paced the halls.

His memory was perfect. If you picked out a date, Any year, Any month, Any day. He could tell you exactly what he did as if it was written out plain as day. What he ate for breakfast, A word for word recite of the conversation he had with his master, Or even how many birds flew past him that day.

But he couldn't remember that.

Ever since his head was cut and mauled, He couldn't recall a single day before then. He might as well have just appeared one day. Everything before then was just a blur, Just one hot mess.

Except.. For that one feeling. The one that he felt on his hands as if it was yesterday, The only touch he could ever tolerate, Or even yearn for. It felt otherworldly, Comforting. That person of muddled face was like a god themselves, Elusive and unobtainable.

Shizuko wanted to know who they were, Who that person really was. But Shizuko didn't know who, Or where to even start looking. His master hadn't known either, Just recalling he had been left at their doorstep one day.

His master.

Shizuko stopped in his walk, A stumbled halt as he finally pulled his head over to the door beside him.

It was his master's private room he had built to pray in, The one always shadowed by the dark and candle-light was shown like stars in the night. Shizuko paused as he looked at the door, Faintly hearing the chants of sutras inside.

He was there, His master was inside.

Shizuko made an effort to be quiet, Careful not to step on any of the floorboards he knew would creak. He steadied himself on the doorframe, Leaning over so he could peer through the crack in the door.

And there he was, In all of his glory.

Shizuko could only see the back of his saturated-lime haori, The one emboldened with kanji. He saw his prayer beads and heard the faint clacking of them hitting each other, The sutra's also getting much louder.

Shizuko debated whether he should knock or not, Whether he should disturb him as he prayed at the candle-lit altar. Gyomei probably didn't want to talk about it, Hell, Shizuko didn't want to either-

"..You can come in."

Shizuko's eyes widened, Just now realising the sound of the beads clacking and his sutra's had went silent.

Gyomei turned his head to the side, And even though he was blind, Shizuko could swear that he was staring right into him with those white-out eyes. Gyomei waited, Shizuko barely snapped out of it before he answered.

"..R-Right, Sir." Shizuko stammered as he pushed open the door, Bowing down low in a sign of respect before stepping in. Gyomei turned around on his knees, Facing him now with his hands still together in prayer.

Shizuko closed the door only slightly behind him, The darkness becoming all the more present as he stood there awkwardly in front of his master.

He sighed.

"..I'm sorry for bothering you during your prayer, Himejima-sensei." Shizuko started, Formal in tone as he bowed once more to the man. "I just wanted to talk to you is all. I.. I have a lot of stuff on my mind right now."

The beads surrounding Gyomei's hands chattered together, Gyomei seeming to take in his words.

"I see.. Then please, Let me ask what bothers you so.. It would not be wise to keep it to yourself.." Gyomei advised in his ever-solemn tone, Bowing down slightly before gesturing him to sit down.

Shizuko nodded and took his offer, Hurrying over to the empty spot in front of the man and sitting himself down neatly atop it.

After settling down and the curls of hair were parted from his eyes, He took a moment for himself. Still hearing the crackle of the candle fire in the back, He listened to it for only a second as if trying to find the words to say.

"Begin whenever you like.." Gyomei assured, Nodding once in encouragement to his Tsuguko.

Shizuko sighed.

"Thank you.. It's just I've been thinking a lot lately, You know.. About the night at the Kakushi Base?" He explained, Slightly hesitant as he eyed the older man for his reaction.

Gyomei's frown deepened, Sharpening as the soft clacking of the beads started to pick up. Shizuko deflated, Knowing he had stricken a cord somewhere.

"..Ah, Yes.. I suppose I should have known that we would have this conversation one day, In fact.. I believe I even might have been expecting it ever since that accursed day in the snow.." Gyomei admitted, Slowly nodding to his words.

Shizuko bit his lip, Vision seemingly elsewhere as he tried to hold back the spill of words.

"I-I mean.. Kaigaku.. How could he do something like this? How could he become the thing that killed our family, My siblings..! Did we just not matter to him?" Shizuko scoffed. "Of course we dont.. How could I say that he gives a shit when he went and became a people-eater?"

Shizuko muttered, Suddenly forgetting his manners as he spoke. Knuckles near popping as he gripped the hems of his green haori, Near ripping the fabric in two at the memory. Gyomei hummed, Brows furrowing.

"Kaigaku has always been troubled.. He stole, He thieved and he robbed.. But he always did it for the sake of us, Shizuko. Kaigaku has become undesirable and an enemy to the corps. But I admit.. I do have blame to take for the way he has turned out." Gyomei spoke, Growing much softer.

Shizuko finally looked up at the man, Staring him dead in the face. Disbelieving as he shook his head, Barely hiding a scoff.

"Ne, Kaigaku was always a rat.. You had no part to play in it, Sensei. He deceived us, He lied to us, He used us for money! He.." Shizuko croaked, Teeth starting to bare as he resisted the urge to grasp his head. "H-He let that demon maul my face.."

Gyomei's lips thinned as he listened on to his Tsuguko's words, Hearing as his talk start to become a rant.

"..I understand, That night was the worst one of your entire life.. And it was mine too. When I laid my fists upon the demon that killed my kids, When I found out of what Kaigaku had done.. I felt rage, I felt anger at everything that denounced my Buddhist vows, I felt rage towards Kaigaku and his ignorant actions.." Tears now started to flood faster down his cheeks, Hot as they dripped onto his hands of prayer.

His frown sharpened.

"But looking back, I know I should have discouraged that boy.. I had chose to forget of his thieving actions because we needed the money. I knew he was troubled and chose to ignore it.. It is my fault that he turned out as such." Gyomei finished, The sorrow in his voice much more potent.

Shizuko couldn't supress a sneer anymore.

"..Every time I bring him up, You always take blame for his actions! You keep saying that he was just troubled- Why can't you just accept that he's a monster? Both now and then?!" Shizuko spat, Pushing himself up to the floor now with a single hand.

Gyomei turned his head up towards where he had stood, Proceeding to follow him up to the floor as he got onto his feet, Easily overshadowing the boy before him. Shizuko

He knew he had to diffuse this quickly.

"Shizuko, It's a complicated an-"

"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER EXCUSE!" Shizuko finally whipped his head to look up at him with angry eyes, He was pissed, Knuckles near popping as he tried to get up in the face of the admittedly taller man. Shizuko seethed.

"I don't want some stupid explanation as for why Kaigaku was just troubled! Or- Or- Deserving of sympathy! E-Even back then you refused to kill him, Even though he's a demon!" Shizuko cried, Starting to stumble over his words as he bared his teeth at his master.

"I-Isn't that what you keep harping about? Our duty as a demon slayer being to kill every last one? Not to rest until you do?" Shizuko reiterated, Shaking his head as he approached him "Y-You could've just killed him back in the snow, But you didn't.."

"I couldn't kill one of my kids.. Shizuko. Not you nor Kaigaku, No matter how far he may have fallen.." Gyomei lamented, Shaking his head. "You know how much it pains me to kill.. To go against my vows as a monk."

"So what?! He's a demon now, Not a human being! You said it yourself, You insulted him too!" The younger jabbed, Incredulous, Looking at the man with ire and confused anger.

Shizuko stepped back, Looking at the man he admired with such unfound before disgust. What respect was usually given was held back now, Only giving venomous looks that Gyomei could only feel burning into him.

Kaigaku, The person now demon that was the reason his family was dead, Why that monster mutilated his face. Why couldn't his master understand that? That he should be just as angry as he was.

Gyomei on the other hand, He had foresaw this coming, He had for months. He knew that this talk had to happen eventually and thus kept himself calm, Not a muscle tensed or ticked.

He tried to reach out a hand, To place on Shizuko's shoulder.

"-I said it so you could get behind him without him noticing." Gyomei corrected "..I feel rage at the boy, I promise you that I do.. But I should not let it get the better of me, Not like it did back on that horrid day.." Gyomei deplored. And if Shizuko looked close, He could see his hands-in-prayer start to shake.

The feeling of fists on flesh, Beating the bloody pulp of that demon into the ground until the sun hit his face. It was gorey, The feeling of hot blood spurting out onto his knuckles. He had never felt so fallen from grace before, Not before he truly found out how strong he was.

Even now he felt the blood trickle down his fingers just like it was yesterday, Like it was still there..

But now he felt Shizuko slap away the hand he offered him, Consumed by the moment and his enraged heart. Gyomei could only feel sorrow for the boy as he continued.

"Y-You keep saying stuff you don't mean, It wasn't even just at the shrine! You.. Why can't you just understand that he's the reason that our family is dead..! H-He's the reason that I lost my memories.. He's.." Shizuko's rage, The one that spilled out in rage started to turn out in tears.

They started to speckle his eyes, His mouth growing more humid by the moment as his lungs started to burn.

His face was still snarled, The candles embers still burning bright even as they flickered. The darkness of the room barely covered the anguish behind his voice.

"Y-You don't even know where the hell I came from..!" Shizuko mourned, Voice wheezing and choking from his throat. The tears in his eyes started to build, Boiling like a pot, Stinging him.

Gyomei sighed, Stepping towards him.

"Please just-!" Shizuko stammered, His voice dying down to a near whisper before the tears finally spilled over his eyes.

"..J-Just tell me who the hell I am."

Gyomei reached out once more, And this time Shizuko didn't argue once he felt the firm hand of his mentor grasp his shoulder.

He was shaking like a leaf, A rare moment when his resolve started to tremble like a tree in a storm. Shizuko's fists were balled yet he threw no punches, Only dropped his head down to stare at them as he tried not to weep harder than he already was.

Gyomei's hand squeezed his shoulder, A single thumb rubbing circles into it. His touch was unfortunately revolting, Making Shizuko tense up. But despite the disgust coursing through his veins, He didn't shake it off.

He didn't want to, Even though it made him want to sob even harder.

"..I'm sorry, I wish I could give you the answer that you desire but that is not for me to give." Gyomei assured, His voice was soft yet it sounded so loud within the darkness of the prayer room.

"..Who you are is for you to decide. My rage got the best of me once, And it almost became who I was. But I never let it consume me.. And I have tried so very hard to make sure it never happens again." Gyomei spoke "So please.. Trust me when I say that who you are is who you choose to become.. Neither your lost memories or your anger define you, Not unless you let them.."

Shizuko sniffled.

"B-But that's just it, Isn't it?" Shizuko croaked, Wiping his tears on the sleeve of his yukata. "I do remember just the tiniest bit.."

Gyomei's eyebrows knitted together, The thumb rubbing circles into his shoulder halted, Just for a moment.

"..Whatever do you mean?" Gyomei asked.

"T-There's someone out there that knows who I use to be. There's someone out there who held my goddamn hand.. And hell, It felt nice." Shizuko admitted as the dried tears quickly became replaced, Falling down quicker once that otherworldly warmth came back to him.

Gyomei however, Whatever reaction Shizuko had been expecting from him. Shock, Intrigued, Happy that he had at least some memories. And sure, There was some of that there but it was taken over by something else.

Something more.. It was something more hesitant.

Shizuko caught onto it immediatley, Observant eye able to pick up the oddities in his expression.

He sniffled, Scrunching up his face as he shook the newly born tears off.

"..You.. You don't know who that is, Right?" Shizuko asked, Stutter still in his voice yet more pronounced and steady now. Gyomei thinned his lips, The intensity in his muscles becoming much more visible.

"Shizuko.." Gyomei drawled which just made Shizuko move forward, Eyes on him like a hawk, Not letting them wander for a second. The way he was acting, Though difficult to see in the dark.. He knew something.

"..Master." Shizuko replied, Slowly and with intent as he carefully eyed the taller man who was currently in debate of his own. Stiff as the statues he prayed to at the altar behind him, Cold stone on his face as he played out the discourse in his head.

He recalls the conversation he had with Kanroji back at the Hashira Meeting, When they had discussed [F/N] and her relation to Shizuko as his older sister. It was a good while ago now, But he still felt confused by it all.

Everything. How he was simply tossed on the temples doorsteps as a child, How he spoke of an older sister. Knowing now that it was [F/N], A colleague he had allied with for years, It shone an entire new light on everything now..

Yet somehow, He was still in the dark.

"Shizuko.. " Gyomei muttered, His morals at war.

"Alright then.. But keeping lies is against my morals and good concious, If he does ask about anything pertaining to this then I will not lie to him.. And I do hope you tell him in due time, Kanroji-san"

It was against his morals and his good concious, It would be a sin to lie to him. But on the other hand.. How could he possibly begin to explain to him something Gyomei couldn't even explain himself?

"Master.. Please. Tell me, Do you know something..?" Shizuko whispered, As faint as the candles waning. His eyes scanned over every facial feature, Ones he had learned the ticks and tocks to. "Do you.. You do, You do know something..!"

There was no way around it. No avenue or alleyway he could divert down to direct the conversation to a different topic. He needed to be honest, Be truthful. That was what his principles spoke of, Right?

"Shizuko.. I've been meaning to tell yo-"

"CAW CAW!"

The call of that all too familiar beast called out, Followed by a sudden sound of what seemed to be rapid tapping at one of the room's window frames.

Gyomei instantly snapped his head over to where the sound was coming from, Where the window was hidden behind several rich tapestries depicting stories from his religion. Suddenly feeling awkward, Shizuko stared as his master moved towards the window, Peel back the tapestries and let light flood into the room.

It was blinding compared to the shadow the room was bathed in, Making Shizuko stammer back and raise a hand to cover his eyes. Gyomei, Unaffected, Slid the window-shutter open to reveal the crow behind them.

It's feathers shone under the afternoon light, Light near rolling off them. Once Shizuko got use to the light he finally recognised the crow as Kamakiri, The Insect Hashira's crow, One he had often seen flying around in Corps Area's he often loitered around in.

Her beak snapped once, The little butterfly charm around her neck shaking as she spoke.

"CAW CAW! STONE HASHIRA HIMEJIMA GYOMEI! YOU HAVE BEEN ASKED TO MEET AT THE BUTTERFLY MANSION ON THE REQUEST OF MY MASTER, INSECT HASHIRA KOCHO SHINOBU!"

Kamikiri's voice was loud, Echoing out throughout the entire room as she delivered her message. Gyomei hummed, Rattling the beads snaking around his hands.

"For what reason..? Did your master give you any cause?" Gyomei asked.

"NO REASON WAS GIVEN HOWEVER IT WAS STATED TO BE IMPORTANT! CAW CAW! DO YOU ACCEPT THE INVITATION?" Kamikiri squaked once more, Flapping her wings once in the radiant light and waiting for his response.

Gyomei lowered his brows, Seemingly taking in the words as the beads around his hands clacked together like heeled shoes on the floor. He wasn't summoned often, Especially not by another Hashira..

"..Yes. I will set off to The Butterfly Mansion as soon as I can.. Please tell Kocho-san I will be there by the next morning at the latest.." Gyomei spoke softly, Lowering down into a bow with his hands still pressed in prayer.

Kamikiri did the same, Mimicking the same bow a human would do but on her talons. Once she raised back up however, She squawked out a goodbye before she flapped her wings once more, Turned around and took off out the windowsill.

Gyomei raised from his bow too, Reaching back up to his full height. Shizuko watched as Kamikiri soared into the air, Wind was no obstacle to her as he watched her surge out onto the horizon. And once she was gone, He snapped his head back around to his master.

"..Shizuko, We will need to continue this conversation later.." Gyomei finalized as he resettled the heavy haori over his shoulders, Adjusted the shirt of his uniform and fixed his belt.

Shizuko knitted his brows, Stepping forward.

"Wait! Can't you just finish what you were about to say? About what you were going to tell me?" Shizuko gawked as Gyomei finished adjusting his clothing, Turning his head over to the younger boy. He sighed, Frown thickening.

"Later.. I promise you that I will answer you in due time, When I get my words in order.. But right now I must leave." Gyomei assured, Taking a few steps towards his apprentice and bowing down slightly towards him.

And when Shizuko looked in his uncoloured eyes, He knew he had fucked up.

Shizuko didn't react, Just looked up at him. The thundering of his heart started to slow, What storm inside starting to dwindle at the action his master took. Shizuko suddenly became aware of the past conversation, What disrespect he had shown.

He had let his emotions take over, His anger consuming him. He had yelled at his master, The one he had grew up with and the one he had trained under for who knows how long? Forget that forgotten memory, Just for a second, He needed to focus on the person he remembered.

Shizuko sniffled, The last of his tears drying.

"I.. I'm sorry, Himejima-sama." He spoke, Returning to his formal tone through his shaky voice. He lowered down into a bow, Just like his master did before. "I shouldn't of been so disrespectful to you, Please, Forgive me."

Gyomei sighed but eventually a small smile came to his face, Something now illuminated by the newly moved tapestries. He moved forward just a step towards him, The candlelight still burning bright in the back.

"You do not need to worry.. I understand." He spoke. "I will be heading out now.. But in the meantime, Please go and rest.. I know how hard you have been working lately, Do not overwork yourself.. It is poison to the body."

Shizuko looked up, Taking a moment to look upon his face before nodding.

"Yes, Himejima-sama.." He spoke, Almost as low as the wind drifting in from the window. Gyomei nodded towards him, Turning around before striding off towards the door, Hands still pressed together in prayer.

He said his goodbyes, Leaving Shizuko alone within the room. His only company was the cantata of the birds outside, The flicks of the flames on the votives and his own screaming head.

Shizuko turned to the open window, The tapestries still peeled back from the usually covered opening. He looked out into the gardens outside, The tree's swaying in the open wind.

Gyomei knew something, Something Shizuko had been longing for his entire life. But how could Shizuko have been so brash when asking about it? He had just let wrath come to him, Let it burn him.

It seemed like that had been happening more and more lately, Becoming bitter about the slightest thing and not the orderly soldier he was suppose to be. But he couldn't fret, Once Gyomei was back he could fix this.

Shizuko felt a throb in his chest, Gyomei actually knew something. The look on his face told him everything he needed to know. Well, Not everything, But he knew that Gyomei was hiding something from him.

And hopefully that answer would fix his irritability.

☆♡☆

"ACK-"

[F/N] tossed around in the air, Launched back by another one of his strikes. And just as all the training sessions before, Her body slammed against the wall of the far courtyard. As always she was defeated, Tumbling to the ground with her training sword flying out of her hand.

Hands gripped into the ground, Lifting her aching head only slighty just to sputter up more blood.

"As always.. Your footwork is lacking.." The voice of her captor called out from the otherside of the courtyard, [F/N] could almost feel the smugness showing through his stoic tone. It made her grit her teeth, Blood dripping down her busted lip.

She scoffed, Tasting the iron on her tongue.

"U-Understood, Kokushibo-sama.." [F/N] spat out, Ichor decorating the floor where she cursed him under her breath. Shaky hands pushed down, Levelling her up to her knees where she tried not to collapse once more.

Kokushibo stood under the great tree in the middle, His golden eyes piercing through the shadow to stare at her. He watched as she picked up her fallen sword, Dust off her dirty Samue and wipe the blood from her lips.

They narrowed in on her, Almost disappointed.

"Pick yourself up, Our session here today is done.." He simply stated, Sliding the flesh-forged blade of his sword into its sheathe. And without a word, [F/N] watched as he turned away.

And as soon as she blinked, He was gone.

[F/N] groaned, Hands going to grapple at her side. Akaza really didn't hold back there, Neither did Kokushibo as he mercilessly sliced at her. He didn't go easier on her despite her injuries.

[F/N] knew that she'd have a few more bruises to show for it, And she cursed Kokushibo out all the same.

She pushed herself to her feet, Stretching as she raised her arms into the air. [F/N] tried not to cringe once she felt that pain in her side, Almost like her ribcage was settling back into place.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

That bastard, [F/N] thought as she sauntered over to the tree. These sessions were completely pointless, Him telling her that it was "Training" which made absolutely no sense. She was a slayer, So called the strongest alive.

He knew this, He didn't care. [F/N]'s knees shook once she finally got under the tree's shadow, Too tired to even walk as she pressed her back against the stump. [F/N] slid down until she was nestled within the thick roots, Held high atop the little grassy hill.

[F/N] let out a sigh, She just wanted to sleep.

And she almost did, Eyelids fighting to stay vigilant. She had only woken up about an hour ago yet she still felt exhausted.

Haze started to set over her vision, Curtains closing as she felt her body grow limp.

"Hey."

[F/N] blinked.

"Oh.. It's you." [F/N] yawned, Rolling her shoulders as she propped herself up against the tree. A good few metres away from her stood Akaza in all his glory, Stature tall as his eyes narrowed in on her. Akaza rolled his eyes.

"Of course it's me, Who the hell did you expect it to be?" He scoffed as he took a few steps towards her, Something gripped tightly in-between his knuckles as he went.

[F/N] didn't respond, Only curling up into herself tigher. She seemed to bury herself into the roots of the tree, Not meeting his eyes. She didn't want to, Especially once she felt the heat of them burn into her figure.

Akaza's brows furrowed.

"Okay.. Fuck it- But are we gonna talk about what happened yesterday? I mean, Come on. Are we just gonna ignore your suicide attempt? Not talk about it at all?" Akaza took a few steps closer, Only making [F/N] curl up further.

[F/N] winced. Of course he was going to bring it up.

"I don't want to talk about it, I wasn't in the right mind back then. Just- Ignore everything we talked about. I was tired, I was bitter about being here.. I was just being stupid. Just forget it, Okay..?!" She hissed, A defensive snarl starting to appear on her lips.

Akaza just stepped closer towards her.

"But are you fine now?" He asked, Raising a brow at her. She stared at him, Only for a second. The shoulders [F/N] held up like a barricade started to lower, Leave it up to [F/N] to get defensive over a question, One that she knew was due to be asked.

She sighed.

"..Now, Yeah." [F/N] replied quietly, Still unable to meet his eyes. Akaza took a moment to look into her eyes, The ones that didn't look back at his. He almost didn't believe her, But unlike yesterday her fighting spirit wasn't roaring like it use to. No, It was completely dead now.

"..Right." Akaza said, Finally sauntering up the little hill and setting down the rectangular box he had been holding in his hands. Handle clattering into its normal position once he let go of it.

[F/N] blinked, Snapping her head over to look at the noise.

"Erm.. What's that?" She asked, Hesitantly eyeing it up and down like a ticking bomb.

"Food. If you want to get out of here and fool Upper One, You're doing it on a fighter's diet." Akaza replied as he kneeled down towards the wooden box, Starting to peel off the lid from the top.

[F/N] grimaced.

"I'm not hungry." She replied quickly as she watched Akaza open the box, Letting the aromatic smell of perfectly cooked fish and other delicacies inside flow out. [F/N] tried not to salivate at the scent of it, Not daring to look at it either. Slightly suprised that he had brought food for her.

Akaza shook his head.

"No, You're gonna eat it." He stated, Almost as if she had digested it already. "It's got everything you'll need to scale the Infinity Castle, This is the standard that your weight-class and gender should get."

[F/N] bit her lip.

"Yeah well.. I've just not been that hungry lately. Thank you but.. You can have it." She replied, Shaking her head as she smelt the scent of fish come from it. Seeing the enticing shimmer of the fish scales inside, She tried not to give in.

And fuck.. She was starving.

"I can't eat human food, Idiot. Besides, I can basically see you drooling there." Akaza scoffed as he watched her take peeks at the food "You look starving. Are you seriously gonna waste food?"

[F/N] quirked a lip, Already regretting telling him about her childhood. Dirty tricks, But there weren't much else he could play. Swallowing down the excess of her saliva, She finally turned her head to look at him.

"I hate you for this, You know that? Right?" [F/N] hissed as she reached a hand down towards the box, Bare hands starting to grab fistfuls of rice and fish-meat cutlets from within the neatly packed bowls.

"There's cutlery there.. Oh." Akaza trailed off once he saw her shove handfuls of rice and meat into her mouth, Bare-handed and she didn't care that she looked like a rabid beast choking down meat into their maw.

It matched the rest of her appearance. Her ragged hair, Her dirtied skin and clothes. Even her eyes had a wild look in them as she scarfed down her meal and wipe the excess off her samue's sides, Eyebags protruding them from her face.

Akaza almost gagged if not for remembering how he did the same thing, Only with human meat of course.

"So.. " Akaza started, Continuing to watch her scoop handfuls of mixed food and shove them into her mouth. "About that thing with Upper One.."

[F/N] choked down another chunk of rice, Wiping her mouth on her sleeve before looking up at him.

"What thing?" She asked.

"..You know? The idea that I suggested and the one you agreed to? To get closer to Upper One?" Akaza raised his brows, Watching as [F/N] narrowed her eyes before shoving another fistful into her mouth.

"Oh- Yeah, That thing.." [F/N] said through her chewing, Almost deflating once he reminded her. She had been hoping to avoid it but..

"So? How's that coming along?" Akaza asked, Folding his arms as he watched her scarf down her meal. [F/N] shook her head, Lowering her gaze away from him as she swallowed down her food.

Fuck.. She loathed how disgustingly delicious it tasted.

"..Come on, How exactly am I suppose to get along with him? He's an unfeeling prick.. I doubt he even has any emotions I could appeal to.." [F/N] groaned, Shaking her head at the mere prospect of him having feelings.

"You said he's fucking obsessed with you, So appeal to that?" Akaza exasperated, Shrugging his shoulders.

[F/N] rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Yeah, Right.. Let me just start acting nice and loving to him all of a sudden, I'll just start pretending that I actually like him. I'm sure he won't notice somethings up at all!" [F/N] sneered, A malicious smile spreading across her face which she proudly displayed to Akaza.

He sneered back, Shaking his head at her behaviour.

"Oh come on! How about you shut it and actually try make some leeway here, Eh? I'm not saying you should start liking it immediately, I'm saying that you try and work away at it." Akaza snapped, Stepping closer to her until he finally got to her side.

[F/N] stared up at him, His eyes made all the more prominant as they shone through the tree's shadows, Glaring back at her. [F/N] dropped her malicious smile in favour of a frown, Finally turning away from him.

"..Whatever, I'll figure it out." [F/N] finally spat, Wiping away the last of the foods residue from her mouth. Rice bits shook off her hands as she finally deflated back against the tree, [F/N] didn't have the patience to argue.

Akaza in turn, Lowered his snarl once he saw her start to shrink in on herself.

He felt a sort of pull in his chest, One that he instantly shrugged off in favour of kneeling down and sitting back down beside her with a grunt.

[F/N] watched as he pushed his half-naked back up against the trunk, Bare feet entwined with the overgrown grass. He didn't look at her, Just stared off somewhere far-off and pulled his knees near his chest.

She gazed at his features for a second. His gaunt skin to contrast with the deep navy stripes running across it, The way his pinkish hair drifted in the air. [F/N]'s nose twitched, He had no right to be demanding.

But whatever.

[F/N] turned back to stare in her own designated place, Nowhere in particular, But somewhere she could just relax back against the tree and take in the air. The air that was fresh, The air that brought her back to her senses.

The only warm place in this entire place, The heart of the shrine. Despite the coldness surrounding it, It flourished anyways. Despite the harsh environment it endured, It was still thriving. [F/N] breathed in the air.

It was nice.

"..You still haven't finished your food."

"Fuck you."

☆♡☆

The skies were orange, A pungent shade of burgundy into citron set over the small township.

The wind was crisp, Cool to anyone caught in it. Birds warbling an aubade could be heard in the trees, Crickets joining in for the chorus in the new morn. People were out in the streets, Walking by and happily conversing with one and other as they went.

Gyomei walked brisk, Short hair dancing with his haori waving within the wind. The Butterfly mansion was large, The biggest property in town so it gave him plenty room to just stride throughout the place unbothered.

But a walk wasn't what he was here for, No, Instead it was the Insect Hashira who seemed to be nowhere about. Despite asking around, Mostly from that Kanzaki woman and the three little girls that followed her, They had no idea where Shinobu was either.

So here he was, Wandering throughout the lavish gardens of the mansion. Striding past crops of fresh veg and tree's filled with fruit and fauna. The air was something Gyomei could appreciate, Something he almost stopped to enjoy within the daybreak.

He breathed out.

"..Himejima-san!"

A voice called out from somewhere above, Somewhere that Gyomei tilted his head up towards. On top of the tiled roof of The Butterfly Mansion, Sat Shinobu perched upon the edge.

She smiled down at him, Soft and delicate. Glossy eyes honing in on him.

"Kocho-san..!" Gyomei called out to her, Soft as a yell could be as he pressed his hands in prayer. "You summoned me here for something important.. Not explained by your crow.. Please, Do you mind telling me the reason I have came today..?"

Shinobu hummed. Luckily for her, The part of the roof she was perched on was rather low. Somewhere she could easily make her way down from, Which is exactly what she did as she nudged herself off.

Shinobu almost drifted, Butterfly haori glistening in the orange light as her feet hit the ground with a barely audible thud.

But Gyomei's hearing was impeccable, Now fully turned to the direction of where she had landed. Listening to the soft patter of her footsteps as she made her way over to him.

"Yes, Yes.. I must apologise for the lack of information as I sent my crow out rather hastily, I'm sorry for acting so rash.. It's not like me to do so~!" Shinobu sang as she came closer to him, Pausing in front of the man before bowing herself down lowly in respect.

Gyomei, Sensing the action. Reciprocated as he lowered himself in response.

Shinobu rose.

"The reason I asked you to come here today is because I got a rather interesting tip-off from my crow!" Shinobu announced, Hand raising before going under her haori.

"You see, I had sent out my crow a few days ago to a village in Fukushima. He was tasked with purchasing some specific herbs that I needed from that region, But unfortunately things didn't go exactly as expected.."

Gyomei lowered his brows, The beads around his hands starting to chatter.

"Yes..? And what exactly happened..?"

Shinobu's smile widened, Yet her eyes darkened all the same.

"My crow was intercepted by a man in the village when he had went to pick up the herbs- He had fastened a rather interesting letter around her neck, One that I think that would interest you.." She drawled out as she watched his expression change.

Gyomei, A man of not many expressions simply stiffened his figure. A man had targeted a Kasugai crow? Of course, Demons were known to try and attack crows during the night. But a man? A human man? And of all things had wrapped a letter around it's neck and sent it on it's way.

Shinobu's expression was bright, Just as scorching as the sun that silhouetted her. Smile stretched on her face, Yet her eyes contained such thanatoid dullness. Something dark brewing within.

Something that even Gyomei could feel, An unease going through him.

Shinobu fished out the letter from within her haori pockets, Hair dancing in the faint wind as she unscrolled the spotless fibre from it's shape. Though she didn't mean to read it aloud, No.

She just needed to check, Just that she was reading it right, Just for the thousandth time.

"..There is a possible sighting of Uppermoon two, Apparently associated with some sort of cult near the village." Shinobu announced as she scanned her eyes across those two dooming words, The ones that she smiled so scaldingly bright at.

Gyomei's eyes widened, The clanking of beads stopping.

"This is.. You mean to say that there was another Uppermoon sighting..? Of number two, Of all moons..!" First it was Upper Six, Defeated in The Red Light District. Next, It was the attack of Uppermoon Four and Five on the swordsmith village.

Just like that.. In over a century several had been slaughtered from their ranks. Now, It was Upper Two?

"Of course." Shinobu nodded as she gently patted the letter back within her haori pocket. Gyomei sensed there was something she was not telling him, Something that she was keeping away. It made him suspicious, Incredibly so.

Gyomei had a frown on his face, Deeper than it ever was.

"Kocho-san.. I'd advise you to go to Oyataka-sama before me.. I am not the messenger you want since you happen to have all the information.. We need to plan something out before we act..!" Gyomei urged, Cogs already starting to turn.

Shinobu hummed.

"..Of course, I will go to him but not right now. Not before I do some scouting of my own, You must understand!" She laughed airily until it trailed off into the wind, Blowing past her before it died down entirely.

Gyomei paused.

"I.. Then why me..? Why did you ask me specifically to come here if you don't want to tell anything to the corps..? Something I deeply advise against.." Gyomei warned once more.

But Shinobu didn't respond, Just acknowledged it with a single warble of her throat before clearing it.

"Oh, Don't worry about it~! I'll explain to you in a moment.."

She smiled, Even wider.

"There is still one left to arrive.."

☆♡☆

[F/N] laid, Still pressed up against the trunk of the tree, Listening to the sounds of air travelling through the shrine.

Akaza sat next to her, The box too now empty of the food it once held. Carefully packaged food, Bowls of rice, Canteens of soup and cutlets of many meats all ravaged and scarfed down.

[F/N] admitted that it was good. Disgusting, But good. Hard to swallow yet settled in her stomach fine.

She breathed in the air, Fresh and poignant as it filled her lungs with life. The aching of her bones from training earlier still had a lingering pain, Throbbing and bruised.

It almost spoiled her mood, Especially since she now felt something akin to normalcy once lazing on a mockery of hillside and it's lumber. She tried not to think about it.

Kokushibo and his little training sessions with her, What a monster he was. What reason did he have to do this all with her? With someone he already admitted was the best he had ever fought in centuries, You'd think she'd not need to partake.

He liked torturing her, That's what [F/N] came to. Some sadistic joy inside his dead little heart liked to watch her bleed, To bruise and blister. Always lingering around to watch her, Almost going over to get a better look.

[F/N] scoffed under her breath. He had even tried to gift her that hairpin, The one she still wore in her hair at this very moment, All to get her to stay compliant.

How could she? When every time they'd pass in the halls he'd keep his eyes on her, Expecting her to be what he thought she should. Keep her locked up here- All while beating her down daily.

There was no reason to it!

The warm air felt nice on her skin, Eyes almost drifting away into another dream. Akaza himself had long done so, His eyes closed and his breath steady.

[F/N]'s eyes widened.

A sudden hitch in her breath came, A neuron connecting within her brain.

Oh, That was the reason.

It was because he had no idea how else he could spend time with her.

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter sixteen | chapter fifteen | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

word count: 4987

a/n: Hi guys, so sorry about not updating here for a while! I promise I'll continue posting Orange Slices chapter updates here, I just completely forgot to post chapter 17. Not to be annoying, but if you are interested in staying in touch with me/my other works/story updates (including fororange slices), I am now mainly on @urbancowboyjoel now. Chapter 18 is still in the works, explanation is at the end of the chapter hehe.

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

@pocket-macnchz

Chapter Seventeen

“Come to me in the silence of the night; come in the sparkling silence of a dream.” -Christina Rossetti

The moonlight streams in through the small window in the kitchen, offering a comforting presence in the midst of your sudden onset of insomnia. After the day you had, all the lifting and moving, you should be tired; you should be exhausted. However, after tossing and turning for hours while your mind raced with thoughts about James and Joel and Nessa and your impending return to patrol and past memories, of your hometown and how things used to be, how much has changed within the past few years–your relentless thoughts refused to slow down no matter how much you tried to fight against them, so you forced yourself from the couch and took a seat at the kitchen table in the dark. 

Staring off into the dark abyss of where you just came from, you roll your neck, grimacing at the shooting pain at the base of your skull. Sleeping on the couch was not working out. Nothing good came out of it, just restless nights and daily body aches. Still, regardless of being in this house for a while, the reminisce of the lives that used to call this house their home still haunts you in one form or another. This place has yet to begin feeling like yours, and at this rate, you don’t think it ever will. 

The past few weeks have been nothing short of a blur, between the conversation you had with Joel and the myriad of drama surrounding you in Jackson, your mind has been rather preoccupied. 

After your eyes fully adjusted to the dark, you reached for the notebook at the center of the table. The clock mounted behind you on the wall in the kitchen, was loud in your ears, the mixture of tick-tocks and your heartbeat whooshing in your ear gave you a sense of unsettling nausea. 

You flipped to the next available blank page in the worn notebook, the moon casting a sliver of light across the table as if it was encouraging you to write about your troubles after witnessing your restless night for countless weeks. The eraser head hits the paper in between the ticks and tocks of the clock as you delve further into your thoughts. Where do I start? You ask yourself.

A few weeks ago, after returning from an uneventful patrol alongside Joel, you came across a post on the community information board in the town square. Charles posted a help wanted request for cleaning and setting up a library in one of the vacant buildings within the community. As soon as you saw his name signed at the bottom, you ripped it from the board and rushed to his house to volunteer your hand. A part of you felt saddened that he didn’t come to you and ask, considering he confided in you that one day he'd like to open a library here. Although, given the rocky state of things going on in your life, you understood why he didn’t ask to begin with. 

After going around to the different guards, asking for anyone to cover her spot with patrol, Tommy was the only one who stepped up while you and Charles began stripping the building, cleaning, and organizing the collection of books he’s hoarded over the years, were donated by members of the community, or were purposely scavenged from nearby.

Although you hated admitting this to yourself, it was nice getting a break from doing patrol. Setting up the library was the perfect distraction from everything going on, and spending time with Charles, someone who you looked up to for guidance and as a father figure, was the kind of presence your soul needed. 

That distraction only went so far though, at night your thoughts consistently kept you up into the wee hours of the morning. It had nearly become debilitating and you knew it was something you’d have to figure out sooner rather than later, particularly before you returned to your patrol duties. The main two culprits that haunted your thoughts were none other than Joel and James; Joel, mainly because you’ve been spending much less time with him than usual, and James for the fact that he’s been too involved in your life lately. 

Regardless of not going on patrol with Joel, you still see him nearly everyday. Usually the two of you eat dinner together, with him stopping by what will eventually become the library to see if you wanted to join him. Your answer was always yes with no hesitation on your end. After dinner, he'd walk you home, sometimes he’d stay for an hour or so, other times he’d retreat to his house to go to bed, telling you that the sleepless nights in the QZ and on the outside were catching up with him. At the end of each day, you always craved more from him.

Then there was James. Oh, James…

Ever since your confrontation out front of the stables about the little stunt he pulled that almost got you taken off of patrols, it seems as if James has been trying to do some intense damage control with you. He’s stopped by your house a handful of times that you know of. You’ve never opened the door, going completely still so as to not alert him of your presence, though he still takes it upon himself to profusely apologize through the door, pleading for you to talk to him. 

Through word of mouth, either from the other guards discussing your temporary leave or from Charles himself, James must’ve learned about you helping with the library because he began showing up between his patrols and other guard duties, claiming he just wants to see how things are coming along. 

These unexpected drop-ins put Charles in an awkward position; you knew it, James knew it—he came anyway. While you stealthily slipped into the back room to busy yourself, sometimes organizing piles of books you already organized days prior, other times just staring at the wall, Charles would take the initiative to entertain James with small talk. 

Every time James made his eventual departure, Charles would let out a loud heavy sigh, saying so much with no words. And after you’d mutter your half-assed apology as you emerged from the back room, he’d give you a look; one so full of disappointment and defeat. For the rest of the day, both of you would work in silence.

Charles never said anything beyond his sigh and the look he’d give you in regards to James. His body language was more than enough and he knew that. He knew the guilt that you feel and the conflicting anger you have towards James. After the last talk the two of you had, he’d given up and knew no matter what he said to you, no matter how much he tried to help, you wouldn’t listen anyway.

He knew you were a coward and had no plan of resolving things with James anytime soon.

A coward wishing their problem would disappear. 

You wished James would just disappear , because then you wouldn’t have to think about what you did to him that started this. And that made you feel guilty. 

Eventually, you knew you’d have to come face to face with James, knowing that he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The community is relatively small and people talk; in the long run it would be best to smooth things over, at least attempt to talk things out. Although, it just wasn’t something you could do right now. Not with your conflicting and complex feelings toward James—especially not when things were so God damned gray with Joel. 

The snapping of the lead of your pencil pulls you out of your mind consuming rant, suddenly becoming aware of your dark surroundings as you return to reality. You could feel the intense heat radiating off of your cheeks as you brought one palm up to your face. 

After staring at the paper for a few minutes, taking in the messy scribbles of words, you rip out the page in one swift motion, immediately crumpling it into a ball. The muscles in your forearm tensed as you squeezed the paper within your fist, making it smaller and more compact with each squeeze. The paper disappeared within the dark shadows of the kitchen when you chucked it across the table.

Your head began to spin, a buzzing sensation filling your skull and making you feel uneasy. Moving the hand on your cheek up to your forehead, you let out a sigh of frustration and close your eyes.

Joel. 

Such an intense and complex person. From the moment you sat across from him at that damned table at that abandoned cabin, you felt drawn to him. Something about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on made you feel understood and protected and at ease. When it was just the two of you, you could imagine what life would be like by his side, and it was something you so badly wanted to manifest into reality. He could be a complete asshole at times, but then there were other times when he was so vulnerable with you and he would laugh and you could see a glimmer of joy in his eyes that gave you a tiny glimpse of who he was before the outbreak happened. Weirdly enough, you wanted him just as much in his worst moments as you did in his best. To you, knowing that was enough. It was enough to understand what you felt for him.

James…

He was such a sweet and kind soul, always making you feel so normal, as if none of this outbreak bullshit ever happened. James felt things so purely and intensely, it almost made you envious that someone could experience life in such a way after losing so much.  From the beginning he treated you as an equal, he didn’t make you have to prove yourself like some of the others did, he didn’t see you as the weird girl who showed up with Tommy Miller and his misfit older brother. He treated you like a human being deserving of friendship, he stuck up for you, and on the late nights the two of you would spend together, he made you feel like you were something important to this world. While all those things may remain true, it doesn’t change how he treated Joel or what he did to you when his jealousy took over. Things could never go back to how they were after that.

Closing the front cover of the notebook and slipping the pencil into the spiral binding for safe keeping, you slide it back to the center of the table where you retrieved it from.

In the past, writing had helped you sort through your thoughts, it did when Joel left shortly after you arrived in Jackson and when memories of the past became too much to bear. It gave you a chance to dump everything without the judgment of others and many times you were able to either solve the core of the problem or come to some sort of decision on how to manage your feelings, but this time around…no matter how much you deliberated, how much you wrote, it just leaves you with a bigger headache than you started with. 

And this headache seemed to grow worse as the days went on. 

As your hand ran down the front of your face, you turned in your chair to look at the clock, squinting your eyes to make out the numbers and hand position in the dark. You raise your eyebrows when you realize it’s now past midnight, nearly an hour has passed and you have been completely lost in your thoughts this entire time. 

At this point the moonlight shifted, the sliver that previously caressed the table with a soft glow, was now leading you to the couch. 

Pressing your palms firmly against the smooth surface of the table, it takes you a second to push yourself up onto your feet as your eyes lock onto one of the many burn marks pulling you back into your daze. Joel did say I was welcome anytime, the words appear in your mind without any warning, maybe I can… With one hard, intentional blink, the thought disappeared.

Nothing good ever comes after midnight. On top of that, you aren't being rational right now, you’re sleep deprived and borderline delarius. Nothing good will come out of that, you whisper your words out loud. Sleep. That’s what you needed. That’s all you need right now. Not clarity, or confirmation, or him.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you walk the short distance from the table to the couch, nearly toppling over on the couch. All you wanted at the moment was to sleep. You desperately wanted a break from your racing thoughts that were now becoming tortuous. Before laying down, you punched the poor excuse of a pillow a few times before laying on your back, your hands resting just above your navel. As you close your eyes, you slow your breathing. 

Trying to trick your brain into sleeping, you count the seconds that pass in unison to the ticking clock. Flashing images of Joel kept distracting you, so when you finally reached six hundred after several failed attempts, you flipped onto your side with your face now facing the back of the couch. The rough fabric brushed the tip of your nose as you nuzzled your face into the cushion, the heat of your breathing warming your cold cheeks. 

Three hundred more seconds pass before you shoot up from the couch, the sudden movement making blood rush to your head, the already dark room becoming darker for a fraction of time. Your heart, for some reason that you don’t know why, is racing, thumping strongly within the confines of your chest.

Placing your hand over your heart, feeling the movement under the layers of skin, muscle, and bone, you approach the window in the living room, your steps slow almost as if you were afraid of getting caught. As you look out the window toward Joel’s house, you brace your hands on the windowsill, leaning into them to get a better look. His house at this time of the night was nothing more than a shadow, but you could recount every detail of it by memory. 

You began to gently chew on your bottom lip as a sudden calm came over.

Fuck it. 

Before you could process your decision or think of what the consequence might come from out of this, you were already halfway out the door, barefoot and still in your pajamas. Time seemed to slow as you walked across the empty street and up Joel’s pathway; the overgrown weeds tickling the bottom of your feet with each step. 

Knock, knock, knock.

The wooden door was hard against your knuckles, knocking hard enough so he would hear but wouldn’t be alarmingly loud either. 

For a brief moment, a sliver of consciousness washed over you, the only thing you could hear was your own ragged breaths as the adrenaline continued to rush through your veins and covered your body in a numbing sensation. What are you doing? Your eyebrows drew together. Looking over your shoulder you judged the distance between where you stood and where your front door was. If I leave now, perhaps I can make it back before he gets to the door. The longer you think on it, you realize the opportunity slipping through your fingers. 

The sound of creaking floorboards causes you to turn back toward Joel’s front door and straighten your posture, your chin tilting upward ever so slightly. Your fingers fiddle with each other as you wait for the door to open; on the other side of the barrier, you can hear Joel clear his throat and your heart stalls.

At first, he barely opens the door wide enough for his head to poke through. You take a second to scan his face; he looks confused, still half asleep, but God did he look handsome.

“Hey, um, ” your voice is soft, not quite sure what to say. You shift the weight between your feet as you continue to look at him.

After taking what seemed like forever to process your presence, Joel’s narrowed eyes quickly turn into concern and he opens the door wider revealing his entire body. “Is everything okay?” His voice was rough, laden with sleep. Your breathing hitches, leaving you unable to respond as you take him in before you. Your eyes glaze down from his concerned expression, to his chest hair and down his bare torso, to the top of the band of his blue boxer that looked as if they had been put on in a rush. Your core ignited with an intense heat, your heartbeat picking up in speed. 

You force yourself to swallow despite your throat feeling as if it were closing in on itself. “I can’t sleep…” You shook your head, keeping your eyes fixated on his. “I’m–I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Letting out a sigh you avert your gaze down to your feet. Looking at him was too much for you to handle right now. 

The sigh of relief escaping him made you slowly look back up at him, his shoulders relaxing. Without saying anything else, Joel opens the door completely, stepping aside to allow you to come in. You give him a shy smile in response, butterflies now going rampant in your stomach. 

You wait for Joel to take the lead, not sure what would happen from here. You knew what you wanted to happen, whether it was right or wrong. Perhaps he’d offer you the couch, simply a place to sleep for the night. That’s probably for the best. Or maybe the two of you would talk for a bit and then he’d send you on your way. Fuck, you’re an idiot, you thought, hating yourself now for not thinking this through. Joel had to get up for patrol in the morning and you thought it was a good idea to bother him for your own selfish reasons. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You dig your nails into your palms as a flash of heat runs through your body. 

Joel’s arm brushes up against yours as he passes, leading you further into his home and turning on lights as he goes. You have to force yourself not to look at him or the way his back muscles shift as he walks. Get a hold of yourself, you scold yourself and suck in some very much needed oxygen through your teeth. 

You take everything in as you walk further into his home, it’s been quite a while since you’ve been here. Between the pictures of wildlife to the half finished wood carvings, everything remains the same as you remember; perfectly lived in and a reflection of who Joel is at his core. 

The kitchen light flickers a few times when Joel flips the switch, damn light , his voice comes out as a low mumble. As the two of you approach the table, he pulls out one of the chairs gesturing for you to take a seat. You avoid his gaze, giving him a nod of gratitude before he rounded the corner of the table and headed toward the kitchen cabinets. 

“You want something to drink?” He asks as he grabs two glasses, the side clinking together as he sets them down on the countertop. “Liquor, fresh milk, water…” He only turns back to look at you once he finishes. 

You shake your head. “I’m fine, thanks though.” The last thing you need is alcohol, and you were sure that anything that went down would instantly be vomited back up given the fact that your stomach was in the most intense knots you have ever experienced. 

Joel stares at you for a second longer than usual before giving you a single nod, abandoning the glasses on the counter and taking a seat in the chair directly across from you. 

He clears his throat before asking, “Somethin’ botherin’ you?” His tone was genuine. You scoff quietly in response, if only I could tell you , you thought.

You didn’t respond immediately, staring off into the kitchen behind Joel and gathering your thoughts. “There’s…” You didn’t know how to respond or what to say. No, you couldn’t tell him. Or could you? “Yes, I just don’t know… I don’t” You cut yourself off, sucking in some air to challenge the suffocating feeling that manifested in your chest. 

“You don’t want to talk about it?” He says, not intending it as a question. Joel clasps his hands together, resting them on the table. Without looking at him, you slowly nod. “Nothin’ wrong with that.” 

Then a silence fell between the two of you. You didn’t know what else to say, you could barely look at him across the table from you and could feel his stare burning a hole into you. Guilt quickly washed over you and you slightly cringed to yourself before lifting your eyes up to Joel. His gaze was intently fixated on you, an intensity in his eyes you saw only a few times. 

Your lips part, your tongue wetting your dried out lips. “I’m sorry I woke you up for nothing,” Your voice was breathy and barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what to do, so…” 

Joel immediately shook his head before you were even able to finish. “Don’t– no, don’t apologize.” You give him a pitiful smile, though his expression did not break. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like minutes, though in reality it was probably only a few seconds at most. 

“How’s the library comin’ along?” He changed the subject, which you were thankful for. “Sounds like a lot of people are excited for it.” Joel cocked his head. 

“Yeah, probably a dozen people stop by a day just to see when we’ll be done.” You say as you tuck your hands beneath your thighs. “Hardest part is just filling the shelves with books, more tedious than hard though.” Joel was listening with intent. “Tony brought us a ton of books from the run last week, so that was pretty huge. On top of that people have been dropping books off to donate.” 

“It’ll…it’ll be a good addition to Jackson.” Joel responds and you nod.

There was a pause in the conversation, a bit of awkwardness rising in the air. 

“How’s patrol going in my absence?” You inquire, changing the subject. 

Joel let out a low whisper as he adjusted himself in the chair. “Same ol’, same ol’. Don’t tell Tommy I said this, but it’s been nice spending some one on one time with him. It’s been a while since it’s just been us.” He says, a glimmer growing brighter in his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face. “Sort of like old times, when we’d go on fishin’ trips together.” 

You smile at the sentiment, before completely changing your expression. “ Mmmm,” you hum, causing Joel to look at you. His eyes narrow slightly in confusion. “Do I have to worry about you replacing me?” You jokingly narrow your eyes back at him, cocking your head to one side. 

Joel let out a boisterous laugh. “God no, never,” his response was quick with no hesitation. “I say that, but I can only take so much of him… ask me in a few more weeks and I’ll be beggin’ on my hands and knees for you to come back.” 

A smile appeared on your face again, “I won’t make you beg too hard.” Joel instantly locked eyes with you through his brow-line, your stomach jumping at the eye contact. 

“No?” He raised his eyebrow as he spoke, his voice dark but somewhat playful as he gave you a devious smile.

You were the first to drop your gaze, followed up by Joel clearing his throat. 

“Um…” You fill the silence, trying to think of how to converse after that moment. In your peripheral view, you see Joel reach his hand over the table, gesturing toward you. 

“I think about ya’.” His eyes dart around as you look at him, searching for some sort of reaction from you. Everything around you went eerily silent. You raise your eyebrows almost stunned by this confession. All you wanted to say was: You do? However, you waited for him to continue, to take the lead on whatever was about to be said. It seems as if your reaction was enough because Joel nodded. “When I’m doin’ patrol and you aren’t there, at night before I fall asleep,” as he went on, he refused to look at you. From his expression you couldn’t quite tell what his intent was telling you this. “I–I’m…” At this point his head is hanging low, his eyes fixated on the table; he shook his head. “I’ll be right back.” 

His tone was different than before, you sensed a bit of hesitation, perhaps embarrassment. You return with a curt nod, although he didn’t give you a second look before he left and headed toward the stairs. You remained seated at the table as you listened to the thumps of each step he took, and when things went silent, you raised out of the chair. What just happened? Joel’s confession almost seemed unreal, did you imagine that just now? You turned in a circle, your eyes tracking the walls as you spin. Am I dreaming? Your face now twisted in confusion. 

Walking out of the kitchen, you stand  at the bottom of the staircase for a moment looking up. Joel was nowhere in sight. You blow out the air you had been holding on to as you pad over to the living room, turning on the light. Bracing your hand on the threshold, you paused.

It was considerably messy compared to the other parts of the house. A blanket was lazily draped over the back of the couch, the guitar laid on it back on the ground as if he had been playing it and put it there to come back to later. Records were scattered on top of the coffee table, alongside a book laying face down open. 

As you approach the bookshelves on the back wall, you run your hand along the soft blanket and carefully step over the guitar. 

Reaching for a book that had a red-brown leather exterior with silver foil details on the side, your ears perk up when you hear Joel coming down the steps. You remain still, running your fingers over the spine before pulling it out. You hear the floorboards creak as Joel gets closer and closer to the living room, the louder his steps get, the weight in your chest gets heavier. You remain still, not turning toward the entrance to acknowledge his presence. 

Seconds seem to pass by in hours, until you feel his warmth behind you. “You can borrow it if you’d like.” His voice shook slightly as he spoke, your breathing becoming shallow. No words would leave your throat. 

Quickly, you turn to face him, your arm dropping to your side with the book still within your grasp. Joel took a single step toward you, closing the already little distance between your bodies. You brought your hand up to the middle of his chest, placing the palm of your hand flat against him; his heart was beating fast. Out of instinct, your body stiffens, your eyes softening as you lock onto his. 

As you tilt your chin upwards, Joel leans in, his eyelids fluttering as the two of you become closer to one another. Your eyes remain wide open as you relish the sight, total relief overcoming you at what was about to happen. Your tortuous thoughts from earlier completely disappear and burn in the fire that rose in the core of your pelvis. It was just you and Joel right now. Right now that's all that mattered to you. 

Just as his lips met yours, your eyes fluttered shut. Bursts of colors explode beneath your eyelids, and at some point the book slipped from your hands, landing with a dull thud. His hands were all over you now, one fisting at the back of your oversized night shirt, and the other gently caressing the side of your hip. Joel’s lips were soft, his movement a lot more gentle than you imagined on the many nights you couldn’t sleep. Yet, he was still passionate and the intensity made jolts of electricity rush through your body.

You quickly pull back from him, both of your hands holding loosely onto his biceps. He went to lean in again, but you pulled back again. “Tell me you want me to stay,” your voice is barely above a whisper, smooth and alluring. There was nothing more you wanted than this , what was happening right now. After that first dinner with Tommy and Joel, that was the turning point for you and ever since then that– Joel seemingly wanting it as much as you did–it was all you could think about whenever you were around him or when you’d see him at the bar, or across the community. 

Joel’s hands glided down your back before he clasped them together. His eyes shift off to the side before returning to you. You could tell he was contemplating, just like you had earlier; doing this…is it right or wrong? The way his hands press into your lower back told you that he wouldn't be able to resist you, not this time. 

His throat bobs as he looks into your eyes, his eyes softening and his lips parting. No words came out as he leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours. 

Joel nodded and whispers onto your lips, “Stay. ”

chapter eighteen coming soon! (I'm being so fr too, I'm just bad at writing smut and I want it to be perfect so bear with me)

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings