#i might need to change the names to name ask

[felassan]

New Details on DA4 from this IGN article: "Dragon Age: Dreadwolf Is Officially Being Renamed, With Gameplay Reveal Set for June 11 - EXCLUSIVE"

"BioWare confirmed that The Veilguard will feature seven playable party members, and that it will feature “fun and fluid, moment-to-moment combat” while continuing to center strategy via the unique powers of each companion.

BioWare general manager Gary McKay explains that while Solas is “still very much a part of the story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” the team wanted a title that reflected a “really deep and compelling group of companions.”

“One thing that’s important to remind fans is that every Dragon Age game is a new and different experience and this game, more so than ever, is about you and your companions – a group that you must rally to fight by your side,” McKay tells IGN. “We can’t wait for players to meet, connect and form their own personal relationships with the unique companions that make up The Veilguard. That’s the spirit of this game…of this story. Choosing who will join you on your adventure, fight alongside you, and be there by your side in the end.”

McKay claims that the name change wasn’t a matter of focus testing, which commonly informs decisions like these. He even goes so far as to admit that sticking with Dreadwolf might have been easier.

“We actually think sticking with Dreadwolf would have been the safer choice – ‘Dread Wolf’ is a cool name after all!” McKay says. “In the end, it was most important for us to have a title that was authentic to the companions that are the heart of this adventure we’ve created. We’ve worked throughout development to create really incredible backstories for each companion that intersect with the main narrative in meaningful ways.”

As for why it’s not simply named “Dragon Age IV,” McKay says it’s for the same reason that Dragon Age Inquisition wasn’t called “Dragon Age III: Inquisition.”

“Every game in the series tells its own unique story and the title is an important element to help set the stage for the next standalone adventure inclusive of its own hero, companions, narrative arc, villain, setting, etc,” he says.

Asked what it means for BioWare to finally be able to show The Veilguard to the world, McKay said, “As the studio head and executive producer, it’s been incredible to see the journey, resilience and passion that this team continues to bring every day. We have an incredible group of both BioWare and Dragon Age veterans who have been with us for years, as well as new faces and voices that love the series who have helped to create an unforgettable experience we feel will be worthy of the Dragon Age name.”

So who exactly are the Veilguard? In the lore, the Veil is a barrier between the physical world and Fade, which is Dragon Age’s spirit realm. Solas, who helped create the Veil, now wants to destroy it. Hence, as McKay puts it, “the Veil needs guarding.”

While acknowledging that the why and the how is definitely spoiler territory, McKay says, “The biggest clue I can share is that you and your companions – that make up The Veilguard – are central to taking down a new evil threat unleashed upon Thedas. It might not just be Solas.”

McKay isn’t quite ready to reveal the party members quite yet, but does provide some hints on what to expect, including some initial info on romances.

“We spent a lot of time making our companions feel authentic based on their own unique experiences within this larger fantasy world, which in turn makes the relationships you form with them feel even more meaningful. We’ve tapped into Dragon Age’s deep lore and explored its most iconic factions to bring each of the seven companions and their stories to life,” he says.

“I won’t spoil next week’s reveal but I can say we’ve created a story where you can impact the world and the companions that surround you. Player agency is important to the Dragon Age: The Veilguard experience and allows each player to form unique personal connections with their companions of choice. And, yes, you can romance the companions you want!”

McKay says the decision to pare the number of companions from nine to seven is mostly down to it being the “right number for the story we’re telling.” Each one is intended to represent a unique faction or element from Thedas, and will feature their own arc with “stories of love and loss, each with meaningful choices and emotional moments.”

He continues, “As you accompany your companions to unravel their backstory and earn their loyalty and friendship, you’ll visit more regions of Thedas across a deeper variety of biomes than any Dragon Age before it.”

McKay mostly sidesteps questions of how Inquisition’s characters might fit into The Veilguard’s story, though he does confirm that it will once again feature an original protagonist similar to The Warden, Hawke, and The Inquisitor, noting that each Dragon Game has its own standalone story with its own thread and conflict.

“Games across the Dragon Age franchise are never designed as a game-over-game continuous storyline. There are familiar arcs, factions and heroes important to the overarching Dragon Age universe that weave through the new story we’re telling,” he explains. “The previous games, characters and events aren’t the anchor of Dragon Age: The Veilguard it’s about your adventure with a brand new cast of companions that you must rally to fight against a powerful force.”

He once again teases another villain beyond Solas: “I don’t want to get too deep into spoiler territory but I can say that the Dread Wolf is not the only god players need to be worried about.”

When The Veilguard is finally revealed on June 11, BioWare’s presentation will include 15 minutes of gameplay from the opening moments of the game, which will help set up the story. On the gameplay front, McKay says that The Veilguard’s combat was a “big area of focus” and something the team wanted to push forward. Among other things, McKay says that The Veilguard will feature an ability wheel designed to give players more direct control over their characters.

“As an RPG, strategy in combat is important as you bring two companions to every fight. Each companion brings unique powers and abilities that have a direct impact on how you choose to take down the enemies at hand,” he says. “To add another layer to that strategic element, we’re introducing a new ability wheel where you can pause the action and set up your next move – whether it’s your companions’ abilities or your own.

“The ability wheel opens up a huge amount of strategic possibilities, giving players the ability to control the flow of combat and link powerful combinations of abilities between players and their companions that can quickly turn the tide of any battle. We think we’ve found an exciting balance between fun, fluidity and strategy for every encounter.”

“This is a game and experience that continues BioWare’s tradition of single player RPG storytelling set in the epic fantasy world of Thedas,” McKay says. “We know Dragon Age fans and the community have been waiting a long time for the next game and we could not be more excited to share our gameplay reveal on June 11.""

[source] (emphasis mine)

[controld3vil]

costume mishaps

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!)

synopsis: requested by this ask, & 2!!

⤷ alt: costume mishaps happen all the time.

notes: when i saw the film, i just knew they were going be awarded best costume. LIKE princess irulan dressed up to be taken hostage. also actor!reader is referenced to have hair long enough to be braided. also this might be the last installment i do for the dune cast, i apologize but it's been slowly fallin off for me. but if i get motivated, ill be so sure writing more :)

Only recently film channels have released behind-the-scenes footage of Dune: Part Two. One of which went in depth about each important character.

When it came to your character, Denise Villeneuve placed much emphasis on wanting to find an energetic spirit. Someone who can channel childlike wonder and at the same time, play a menacing and emotional one. And for that, you were chosen and had always appreciated Denny's choice of you.

"Nerre's, they're essential to the House Atreidas. They grew up under their rule, with Paul, and have the mentality of what it means to be loyal to the things you love and hold. And I think," Fondly, Denise murmurs your name with a smile. "They delivered what was needed for the character." Shortcuts of shots of you in the desert exhibited your enthusiasm for the project. You're constantly smiling, at the joy of people's laughter. It was as if you were born to play Nerre, resembling much of their attitude and spirit.

At the end of Villeneuve's talk, it quickly moves to another shot into the desert.

"I can't do this Denny!" From far away, it zooms toward your figure, sitting at the edge of a valley of sand. In costume and everything, the only thing that discerned different was you were missing your headgear. Your locks, loose and free from any shackle you previously had, are long gone. The sunset hits your face directly and only elevates the sad pout on your lips. "Can I please put my hair up?!"

Beside you, the Paul Atreides actor sits with one leg over the other, giggling, holding his fist up to distract himself from your petty endeavor. It was fortunate today that the wind was kind. Yet it bothered you apparently, as you try to readjust strands of your hair away from your face every few seconds. There were faint shouts behind the camera and muffled current, comments that were directed back to you.

"No, it's a part of the scene!" Denise hollers, cupping his hands into a circle. A few familiar faces show up beside the director, amused and chuckling joyfully. The sun would soon be gone and it is a waste of film if you did not comply with the director's order. Yet as the video picks up, you shamelessly and eventually accept your fate, crossing your arms, and glaring at him.

In another, your annoyance grew further. Your persistence towards Denise was undeniably petty and unnecessary. It was another day shoot, with the sun glaring back on the desert lands and everything it lays its eyes on. In particular, you who is braided with loose and intricate braids on your hair. You were even advised, more encouraged to grow your locks out for the film. Which you happily followed and now regret to this day.

"I really want to just," You scoot towards the camera's view so nobody can hear except you and the cameraman. "Yank all of the hair from my scalp! The heat's killing me!"

It switches to a sit down interview of you, slowly diffusing your voice on top of the footage to connect both portions on what you were trying to convey. "Now obviously, I was exaggerating," As you nervously laughed at yourself. You're not sitting in front of the movie poster. You were in casual outing clothes and showed off a relaxed manner, "But Denny did request for me to grow out my hair for the film- not just to show that time has passed but a part of their maturity. It's not extravagant but a small change that gradually will show later on."

Your character did not have a dramatic wardrobe change. More or less, the production team wanted to include small changes to your outfits. In the first film, you were dressed in a simple Fremen still suit, with not much other than the mask attached to it.

You did not have many options to customize. Everyone's was the same, with few alternations. You were aware for Paul, Timothee adorned a long hooded cape and extra layers of fabric behind his back. Rebecca took a completely different change and discarded the Fremen attire altogether. In the sequel, she had to wear multiple layers covering her body to represent the Reverend Mother of the Fremen people.

"Just one change, that's all I'm asking!" You recited a previous conversation you had with the director. Another Dune behind-the-scenes documentary, it showcased the intricate works of the costume designers. A beautiful work of art. Every single piece of fabric was handmade and crafted. And of course, you who couldn't help but praise their efforts and reminisce the the first time you wore the still suit again before shooting.

"I remember desperately wanting a cool cape or something. And in the end, I got what I wanted!"

A cool compilation showed you running around in the Fremen attire for the first few shoots of Dune's sequel Sometimes you run off into the distance with your cape, flying behind your back. Or the times when you flipped it over your head for extra protection. Even on other occasions where you are the one fanning your cloak for your costars like Florence Pugh or Rebecca Ferguson.

"Yes, they were happy when we gave them a cape," One of the costume designers who specialized in Fremen wear said in a quick interview. She spoke of you with hearted tenderness as like many of the other designers appreciated your participation with Denise on what to change. "We also thought it would be cool to add a few chains and charms- if you see around their waist area to show how long they've been living in the desert. Things you pick up like scrap metal or maybe materials they had from their home planet that bring homage to them. We thought it would be a cool idea for Nerre, in their time, they would be scavenging for things to bring back home."

Although the most well-known shot of you was with your well-acquainted costume. Timothee and you were walking side by side in between a long valley. It was a thin canyon, built upon tall feet of rocks and dusk. The camera crew and others were careful to walk the ancient monuments. All of the Fremen extras were following behind last. In the scene together, you and Timothee were discussing plans while striding through the rocky corridor. Josh Brolin was at the side to your right and Zendaya was on Timothee's left.

But what the documentary picks up on is what happened after the scene. Right after the scene, captures the two of your mischievous and harmless banter. All of the extras and film crew scurried out of view. Zendaya can be seen sitting by a nearby ledge.

It captures you, jumping in pace to wake yourself up. Or maybe because your feet were asleep. Eventually, the French actor joins you, following the rhythm of your jumping. It's comical how casual random occurrences happen around you and your younger cast mates. To the average person on set, it was the norm to see you and Timothee replicate childish acts.

Viewers can pick up a muffled conversation as the two of you continue to bounce in unison. "You tired?"

"I feel numb!" You quicked your pace slowly and your costar continued to stare at your movements to follow. With the additional shade the canyon provided, the heat wasn't an issue but the humidity was. Zendaya who was resting behind gave you an encouraging laugh when you began to spin and jump clockwise.

Eventually, you and Timothee went back and forth to copying each other. It led to a game of tag, which dispersed people into making a circle in the middle of the road for you to play. At some point, Timothee managed to grab onto your hooded cloak which halts you backwards. Thus it was an infamous funny blooper viewers can seen reposted over thousands of times.

With him holding your cape, and slowly going under as if performing a dance.

Even when asked about that particular clip on the carpet, you both only shared dotting reminisce and giggles.

"He almost made me fall when he grabbed my cape," You huffed, pointing at the said perpetrator while the interviewer, holding the microphone looked his way accusingly. Timothee doesn't deny your claims as he blatantly grins, happily on the special moment.

"Wow!"

"I mean, I think I won that tag game but sure," The brunette sarcastically directs his eyes toward the veil behind your back that replicated the cloak cape you wore in the movie. "You could've gotten hurt."

"Yes, because you were about to rip that thing off my neck!" You emphasized greatly into the microphone which had the interviewer throw out a chuckle. Timothee breaks as well but regains his posture before glancing at anyone behind who wants to defend him.

"I think a rematch would be in order," They added, earning hums from you, only fueling your competitive drive.

"Obviously!"

"You wanna go right now?" Timothee speaks up, emitting false confidence as he puffs up his chest. You do the same, despite knowing you are at a disadvantage for not wearing a flexible outfit to run in.

"Yeah if you're game!" You shouted back, cracking your knuckles as a few paparazzi snapped photos of your hilarious rivalry. Within seconds, he taps your shoulder before running off in the opposite direction. It leaves you off, gawking in surprise before chasing him down the carpet, struggling as you run past your other cast members and cameras.

By the end of the night, the two of you were in a tie. You won, in revelation to everyone's surprise as a picture was posted online of you posing with rock and roll peace signs and Timothee holding up the veil that was attached to your outfit, replicating the previous video.

"I have a question,"

This was the BuzzFeed UK interview. For all the five younger cast members to sit down and talk with one another. Really more of a natural and informal discussion that didn't need to pertain to obvious questions about the film. Everyone sat in comfortable sofa chairs of their own, each receiving their own microphone.

It was Florence who spoke, directly eyeing Austin Butler to your left side. Your eyes followed her insulated question, but your mind was unbothered. Your fingers unconsciously fiddled and scratched the mic as your blonde costar asked, "Your bald cap, at what point in the day were you like God I can't wait to get it off!"

Your stoic expression broke into a warm smile, remembering all the times you've seen Austin in his Feyd costume. "It's a good question."

"When did it get uncomfortable and sticky?"

"After lunch?"

"Yeah yeah I mean it kind of got to a point where I did- I would forget, it just feels like it's a part of you and I was focused on so many other things, but it's usually when it got really hot," The Princess Irulan's actress mumbles in agreement, "Particularly the arena scene cause I'm outside in the sun and it's 110 degrees and that's on your head. I just would- want to cut the damn thing off."

It earns honest chuckles from Florence and Zendaya who both agreed. A few seconds later, it cuts to you with a knowing smile before speaking up into the microphone, "At least you didn't have to deal with all of your hair- and mess," Additional hums from the others joined as Austin chokes out a laugh, before taking a second glance at you.

"I mean yeah- there are a few positives to wearing a cap," He shrugs his shoulders, knowing how you'd react to his casual response meant to be teasing.

"What was your experience like?" Florence turns the question towards you. She states your name accordingly as if seriously questioning you. Your head turns and you give her a look before answering.

"Madness," Only to be returned with huffs and pants, mostly coming from Zendaya who knew well of your petty endeavors with your hair and makeup. "I wouldn't say it was worse or better but god, the extreme heat from the desert really sold me cutting my hair short." From your side, Austin squints his eyes, unable to take your sarcasm seriously. While you can see Timothee on the far side of the group, humorlessly shaking his head as you try to reaffirm yourself.

"I think out of everyone, you take the most with hair and makeup beside Austin," The mixed actress addressed, clasping her hands together with the microphone in-between. Florence hums and you nod your head far too quickly, only to be caught by your French costar.

He calls out your name, "You take like forever in the chair, what's up with that?" Suddenly you feel the air change as you give an accused look, trying to play innocent.

"Some people take their time longer in the chair okay," You huffed and puffed as you glanced around the room. Luckily Austin decided to help on your side, empathizing with how long it takes for him to prepare in the chair.

"Both of us gotta take care of our hair you know," He adds, quickly lowering his microphone which leads a twinkle in your eyes as you gleam adoringly at him.

"Yes exactly!"

"Wow really?"

"Okay but the bald cap requires much more time and precision. You're just taking a long time and can't sit still," Florence buts in, moving closer to the edge of her seat.

You gawk at her, grasping the nonexistent pearls on your chest as you can discern Timothee and Zendaya's laughter. "Where did all of this hostility come from?"

"You know what? Ever since you broke my headpiece!" There were gasps and your blonde costar only looked at you, with a cold funny stare. Your jaw drops, knowing it was the few incidents you wanted to erase from your memory.

"Did you really break her headpiece?" Timothee sighs at you in disappointment. He gives you a fake frown before you turn to the camera, looking at the audience, unbelievable how the tables quickly turned.

"The tea!"

"First it was minor, only a few of the shards dropped." You raised your index finger, then cast eye contact with each person, "And not to mention, Florence, you let me touch it!" This time, it was Zendaya who gasped in astonishment, looking back and forth.

"I guess this was how the holy war started," Timothee speaks indistinctly, cupping one of his hands on the mic. Only to be heard of your exclamations in bewilderment.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 51)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

With the wedding coming up, Cillian and you made even more of an effort to remain on good terms than you ever did before. While he was away, filming the Peaky Blinders Movie, you video called him so that Mara could see her daddy every day.

Every day, before she went to bed, you allowed Cillian to read her a story over the webcam, whenever he was able to.

It was a small gesture that meant a lot to Mara, and it helped her and Cillian to maintain a connection despite the distance.

Your therapist welcomed the positive communication and reminded you that you were doing an implacable job by keeping him involved even despite his busy schedule. 

During that time, you also noticed a slight change in Cillian's behavior. He seemed more relaxed, more at ease with himself, and with you. 

"So, what's the plan for Mara's birthday next week?" he asked one evening when he skyped in from London.

"I was thinking a party actually. She has been at daycare twice a week and made some friends. I was going to invite them and their parents. My mum, Siobhan and Emma are coming too, and I think even your mum is driving down from Cork. I also invited two friends from my mother's group," you said, filled with enthusiasm for Mara's big day.

Cillian chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth. "Sounds like you got everything planned out," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. 

"You know it would be nice for Mara if you could come,"  you added, hoping that he might be able to make the trip.

"I would love to," he said, "but you know I can't leave the set, Y/N. I have a busy schedule filming and I'm just hoping that things will ease up a bit in the next couple of weeks," Cillian said with sadness in his voice. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but you knew that filming was important for Cillian's career.

"I know, but what I am saying is that you are more than welcome to come if you wanted to," you repeated, looking him straight in the eyes through the camera.

"And I appreciate that, really," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "But I still need to wrap up this movie." 

"I understand," you said softly, biting your bottom lip. "And, you know, you can always celebrate with her when you come back by taking her to the zoo or something. She probably won't remember the party anyway, but she will also remember the zoo," you chuckled, seeing how it was Mara's favorite place to go these days. 

"You are probably right you know," Cillian conceded, his expression softening even further. "Now, did you call the carpenter to fix up the shelving in the living room? I told him that you would call and to invoice for it. You might need that done before the party," he continued, seeing how one of the built in shelves had collapsed after you tried to carry out some DYI work on it. 

"No, he can't do it until the week after next, but Sean offered to fix it for me before the party which is nice,"  you informed him, noticing how Cillian's expression changed for a second.

"Sean, huh?" Cillian chuckled; his expression unreadable but you could hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't start, Cillian! Don't fucking start!" you shot back with irk, already feeling the familiar burn in the pit of your stomach.

"I didn't even say anything," Cillian smirked, his eyes glimmering as he studied your reaction.

"Then why are you acting the way you are when I bring up his name?" you asked, rolling your shoulders back, trying to release some tension in your body.

"I'm not. It's none of my business who you spend your time with so long as you keep Mara out of it," Cillian growled, scratching the back of his neck impatiently.

"You know what, I was actually thinking about inviting him to the party, as a friend of course and only if you would allow it. Because he has been a big help those last few days, running errands for me for her party while I was sitting my exams and he asked me whether he could come," you told Cillian nonchalantly, secretly enjoying his reaction.

"Oh, did he now?" Cillian said with a sigh as he adjusted the display setting. "So, you two are getting more serious then?" he enquired  without looking at you.

You could tell he was slightly irritated, he clearly didn't want to give you the satisfaction of seeing it on his face.

"Well, we are still taking things slow and we not being too serious about it. We agreed on no labels, but I still only consider him as a friend, with benefits,"  you replied, being brutally honest while watching Cillian's reactions closely.

"So poor Sean is still in the friend zone then, eh?"  Cillian quipped, the corner of his mouth curling into a slight smirk before he quickly hid it.

You noticed it, and it stung a little, but you tried not to let it get to you.

"Yes," you confirmed, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression. "He has been very supportive and helpful lately and I like having him around, but there is no pressure between us. We are both free to see other people. That's the way it is for now."

Cillian nodded, turning his gaze back to the camera. "Fair enough and thank you for clarifying your relationship status for me. I just hope he knows that too, because I am not the one who needs convincing Y/N," Cillian said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Whatever Cillian. Can you just give me an answer?"  you asked, your patience wearing thin.

Cillian's smirk faded, to be replaced by a look of annoyance. "What do you want me to say, Y/N? I don't want Sean around my daughter," he said firmly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Why not? He is a decent person and Mara won't even know who he is. There are other people there who are no more than friends either and there most certainly won't be any public display of affection," you argued , trying to reason with him.

Cillian sighed deeply, knowing that he couldn't win this argument. "Fine. He can come, but only if you make sure that nothing happens between the two of you that Mara might see, at least not until you are serious about him which, it clearly seems, will never happen," he relented , eliminating any obvious doubts in your mind.

***

Your mind began working overtime to decide a strategic approach to the situation. On one hand, you were glad that Cillian was allowing Sean to attend the party, but on the other hand, the caveat gave you a sense of unease. 

You explained the situation to Sean on your next date when your mother was looking after Mara and, much to your surprise, he was very understanding about it.

"My parents separated when I was twelve Y/N. I get it, so don't worry, okay? I don't even have to come. I can help you set up and then leave before Mara and your mum arrive," Sean suggested, trying to make things as easy as possible for both of you.

"I really appreciate that Sean, but I don't want you to feel like you have to leave on my account, especially since you have been helping me so much those last few days," you  told him sincerely.

"And I like helping you Y/N, because I know that being a single mum can be hard. Your ex hasn't really been making an effort to be here for Mara lately, so if I can do anything to help, I will," Sean replied with conviction.

"Cillian is away filming. That's his job Sean," you explained wearily, wondering if he had brought this up to upset you or validate his actions. 

"I know, but he should really make an effort to be there for his daughter's first birthday, don't you think?"  Sean queried, a hint of frustration coloring his voice.

"Maybe, but it's not my place to say or judge what he does, because he is still looking after us both," you responded, attempting to defuse the tension that had suddenly risen between you. "So, lets change the topic shall we?" you suggested, trying to keep the mood light and pleasant. 

"I am sorry Y/N. You are right," Sean sighed, taking a deep breath before giving you a gentle kiss.

***

Later that day, after you picked up Mara and Sean went his separate way to catch up with some of his friends, he couldn't help but feel slightly let down by the conversation he had with you about the upcoming birthday party and confided in a friend about it.

"Dude, you're acting like you are in some kind of relationship with this chick," his friend Mark joked, taking a swig of his beer. "You told me that you two agreed to be friends with benefits. You don't owe her anything other than your time while you are hooking up and she doesn't owe you anything either! So why do you even want to go to that kid's birthday party?"

Sean sighed, shaking his head as he stared out the bar window at the busy cobblestone street outside.

"Because I want to make an effort for her daughter and make her see that I could actually be right for her, you know?" Sean replied, finally giving voice to his true feelings. "It's just that she is so damn stubborn most of the time, and I know that she still has feelings for her ex, which I can't really compete with."

Mark chuckled, slapping Sean on the back. "Well, he is Thomas Fucking Shelby, man," he laughed, burying the rest of his beer in one swift gulp. 

"You are not helping Mark!" Sean rolled his eyes at his friend's remark. "I am trying here, you know?"  Sean said, sighing again, exasperated.

"I know, and Y/N is a lucky woman to have you," Mark smiled, clinking his empty bottle against Sean's before signaling for another round. "But dude, you need to just relax and stop worrying about her ex. If she wants to be with you, she will. It's that simple."

"She said she just wants to be friends and I don't even want her to meet you guys because I am worried that I will look like a fool when she decides to go back to  her ex," Sean sighed, sitting down on the couch in his apartment, feeling frustrated. "I mean, how am I seriously going to compete with someone like him, a famous fucking Hollywood actor?" Sean mumbled to himself as he paced around his apartment. 

"You may not be able to, but she may also just play hard to get, which is what a lot of women seem to do these days," Mark reminded him thoughtfully as he watched Sean struggle with his thoughts. "Maybe you should focus on being the best version of yourself for your sake and not for hers, and then she will soon see if you are right for her or not," Mark added with a raised eyebrow. "Or you could find something that makes her ex look really bad. He is famous enough, so surely, with the right help, you can dig up some dirt," Mark suggested with a sly grin and Sean's brow furrowed as he contemplated Mark's words, his mind racing with ideas of how he could ruin Cillian for you, once and for all. 

"Maybe I should try, yeah, but I don't want to fight dirty. Despite, I don't even know him or anyone who hangs out with him other than Y/N herself," he said, his morals preventing him from considering such a devious course of action.

"Well, let me help you then," Mark offered, pulling out his phone and conducting a quick online search. "I work for the Irish Times after all," his friend smirked,  focusing on the task at hand. 

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[allllium]

Secret

~ This took so much longer than I wanted it to, yay writers block right? 😭

~ Angst, Fluff at end, WC:2,737

~Remus is keeping a secret

Your boyfriend is cheating on you. That's the only explanation for the way he's acting. Every month he disappears, not just for an hour or two, but full days. Most of the time he disappears for about two to three days. And even if he doesn't disappear, he acts super weird around you.

You've tried to ask James and Sirius about it, but of course they never say anything. They are loyal to bone, which usually you respect but now it's just frustrating. You thought you were a part of the group, clearly you were wrong.

What are you supposed to do? You've already tried his friends, and spent months obsessing over behavior. Analyzing every little thing he does for you and other people, trying to find out who Remus would rather be with than you. You can't keep feeling like this.

You're in the library, trying and failing to focius on your book. Usually Remus would be here with you, but he's not. You haven't seen him since yesterday morning, when he all but pushed you out of his dorm room.

At first this whole thing was frustrating, and confusing, but now you feel rejected, a feeling your boyfriend should never give you. At first you raked your mind for any other reason why Remus would act like this. You went through things like illness, something about his friends, family maybe, you even thought it might have something to do with school work, but none of those explain why he's nowhere to be seen.

So now here you are. On the verge of tears while sitting in the library, wishing he would just come clean about what he's doing. At least then it would be easier to break up with him. But what can you do without proof, left with nothing but a bad feeling.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” You are quickly pulled from your thoughts by James’s voice coming from behind you. He's always been incredibly sweet to you, mostly because he thought it would help convince Lily to go out with him, but you also know he's just a naturally good person.

“Fine, Jamie.” You give him the best smile you can muster, obviously he sees right through it. He slings his arm around your shoulder and plops down in the seat next to you.

“What's on your mind?” He seems genuinely concerned but you don't believe it. Real friends tell friends when they're being cheated on. You wish. In real life, however, they always stay loyal to whoever came first. You love that Remus has such great support when he needs it but what about you?

“It's nothing, doesn't matter.” You try your best to reassure him.

“No, something is clearly wrong. How can I help?”

“It's nothing, James, just drop it. Please.” He knows you're serious when you use his real name, usually resorting to some stupid nickname.

“Yeah, okay. If you need anything just let me know.” You only nod as he turns to leave. You take a big breath when you're alone again.

You're honestly trying not to panic. You love Remus, a lot. But you can't be with a cheater, you just can't. And if you break up with him then you lose all your friends, because of course, they were his friends first. Which means you have to start over, all alone. Yeah, no reason to panic.

Over the next few days you don't see Remus. Not because of him, this time it's you trying to disappear. This is what happens, he ignores you for a few days then comes back all clingy as if nothing happened. The first couple times you tried to ask about it but you never got a straight answer. He told you he was busy with his friends or with school, which was clearly a lie, so eventually you stopped asking.

You've had to change your daily routine a lot just to avoid him. Instead of going to his dorm for bed, you go to your own. You're not eating in the dining hall, because he would sit with you. You're sitting away from him in class and turning the other way when you see him in the halls. Apparently your avoidance has been so obvious, McGonagall stopped him after a class to ask what happened. You didn't stay long enough to overhear his answer.

“Oh, Angel!” You hear your boyfriend’s voice call for you in the hallway, you do nothing but walk faster, knowing you won't be able to keep it together long enough to face him right now. “I know you heard me.” His voice is much closer as he grabs your shoulder to stop you. He takes the books out of your hand and holds them behind his back.

“What do you want, Remus?” You ask him, not turning around.

“I want to know why my girlfriend has been ignoring me for days now?”

You no longer feel sad when you finally turn and look at him, the irony of his statement filling you with sudden frustration and anger, “Oh really? What about you Remus? You ignore me for days every month and I still don't have an answer for that!”

He stays silent, analyzing your expression before continuing, “It's different,” is all he says.

“How Remus? I would love for you to explain how exactly this is different.”

“It just is!”

“You know what, I don't even care. Come find me when you can explain, otherwise don't bother.” You feel like you're going to collapse as you walk away, leaving him in the hall, with your books in his hand.

You didn't think it would be this hard. Yet after a few more days have passed it seems Remus took the ‘don't bother’ part of your speech more seriously than any other.

You honestly thought he would at least try to give you any kind of explanation. Even if it is a lie.

James and Sirius haven't talked to you either. Remus obviously told them about what you said, they don't want to be friends with you if you aren't with Remus.

Over the last few days, you've spent a lot more time with Lily and the rest of the girls.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” Lily asks you. You're sitting with her in her dorm with Mary and Pandora.

“I don't know what to say.” You shrug. What are you supposed to say? You don't want to tell her Remus is probably cheating on you, on the very off chance he isn't. And you don't want to admit how much you miss being around him.

“What did you guys fight about?” Mary pipes up. At this point the whole school has noticed the behavior between the two of you. Everyone has been talking about it, spreading theories as to why such a happy couple has been acting like this.

“It wasn't a fight,” You begin to explain to the girls, “I told him unless he can tell me why he keeps disappearing I don't wanna talk to him.”

You don't miss the look Lily and Pandora exchange. Mary focuses her gaze onto the floor, none of them look at you as Pandora speaks up this time.

“I mean he probably has a good reason.” She tries to offer.

“And you all know, don't you?” Great, you're officially the only one who doesn't know this secret your boyfriend is keeping.

“It's not what you think.” Lily tells you softly.

“Then why won't he tell me?”

“I don't know,” Lily tells you again, “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I tried that, but it didn't work.”

“Then don't ask him to talk, tell him you're not happy. I promise he's not trying to hurt you.”

“And how do you know? He apparently told everyone but me Lily, what am I supposed to think?”

No one responds.

“I don't know what to do.” Remus tells his friends, running his hands over his face in despair.

“Well, I vote you stop being a dumbass but we know that won't happen.” Sirius offers him. The four of them haven't left their dorm all day, trying to convince Remus he needs to be honest with you. Actually Peter and Sirius have been trying to convince him, James hasn't talked to him all day. He knows why you were upset in the library and isn't trying to hide his irritation, however, he doesn't want to say something to hurt Remus. So he stays quiet.

“I agree. What's the worst that can happen?” Peter shrugs, you'd think Remus would listen to him considering he's the one in the longest lasting relationship.

“Uh, she could leave me!” He practically shouts, rolling his eyes at the look shared between Sirius and Peter.

“Oh you mean like what she wants to do now?” Remus doesn't even notice who says it, too distracted by the ice running through his veins.

“You really think she'll want to break up over this?” His voice is barely a whisper, the slight heartbreak clear in his tone.

“This is one of the biggest parts of your life and you haven't told her. She knows you've been lying about it and you haven't talked to her once since she said “don't bother.” In my opinion all you're doing is showing her you don't care.” Peter tries his best to explain this gently to Remus. Not wanting to hurt him but knowing Remus won't actually understand till he knows how you feel about it.

“I need to tell her. I just- I don't want her to leave me because of it.”

James lets out an exasperated sigh at Remus's words. “She's not going to leave you for being a werewolf, she loves you just as much as you love her. If she breaks up with you it's because of how long you've kept this a secret.

Another week goes by with no word for Remus. You're started to give up hope that he'll even try to talk to you again. Unless to finally end this relationship. Thinking about either of these options hurt your heart, not wanting this to end or go on.

“It's not until you're leaving the dining hall after dinner that you're pulled into an empty classroom. You can tell by the touch on your wrist that it's him.

“What do you want, Remus?” You immediately ask. You try to keep your face as straight as possible, not wanting him to see how upset you really are.

“I need to explain.”

“Seriously? Now?”

“Can I please just tell you what's going on? You can yell or insult me all you want afterwards, I just need you to know.” He lets go of your wrist but refuses to look away from your face.

You give a small nod in agreement but it's all he needs to jump right into what he wants to say, you have the feeling this whole plan was practiced beforehand.

“I was not trying to hurt you. I love you a lot. More than I have ever loved anything before and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you because I'm not normal. I figured if there were something wrong with who I am, I can change, I can fix that but I can't fix something I have no control over and I felt like I would die if I lost you because of it.”

“Because of what?” Is all you ask.

He takes a deep breath before finally explaining, “I'm a werewolf.”

“Oh screw you.” You roll your eyes and quickly walk out of the classroom.

Remus doesn't follow you out. He stays standing in the empty room for a few minutes, confused about the interaction that just took place.

He comes to your shared class almost halfway through and doesn't look at you until it's over.

“Angel, please talk to me.” Remus begs, following out of the classroom. You shake your head and begin to speed up your walk. He grabs your wrist and pulls you into him, “Baby please.”

“What do you want, Remus? Here to lie to me more.” You turn around to confront him.

“I'm not lying about being a werewolf.” He defends, eyes widening in bewilderment.

“That's not what I'm mad about.” Your tone grows more angry as you talk. “We've been dating for how long now and you don't tell me your biggest secret? You've had me panicking every fucking month wondering where you where and who you were with. All because you what? Can't trust me with this big secret?”

Remus visible winces as your voice grows louder. “Please don't be so loud.”

“Oh yeah! Don't trust me not spill anything!”

“That's not what I meant, love. Can we just talk about this, somewhere private.”

“So what? So you can make up some lame excuses?” You turn again and try to leave.

“No angel, that's not why I didn't tell you.”

You pause. As much as you want to keep walking you love him. Deep inside you know exactly why he didn't tell you but you don't think you can bear to hear him say it. You know it's not because of you but you feel like you failed. You feel as if you failed to make him know just how much you love him, just how worth it he is. You want nothing more than for him to be happy and if he hasn't told you about his big secret clearly he's happy enough with you.

“It has nothing to do with you, I promise. I wanted to tell you so many times, so much more than you know but whenever I tried I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't open as much as I tried. I was terrified that you would leave, I know you never would, okay, I know. But the thought that you could stopped me, it stops me from doing many things.”

“Why?” You ask, tears arriving in your eye line.

“Because I can't live without you. I know how cheesy that sounds but it's true. All my life I've dealt with the consequences of being a werewolf even from people that don't know. You have helped me be myself more than anyone ever has and that's enough. I can't bear the thought of you leaving let alone the thought of knowing I pushed you away. Knowing this pushed you away and it wasn't something I could stop because if I could I would. I know it makes things harder for you. I hear how people talk about you because of my scars and how awkward I am and you don't deserve that, you've made me think that maybe I don't deserve it either. I can't lose you. I can't let this push you away because without you I go back to who I used to be. And now that you've shown me who I really am, I can't go back to being him.”

You listen to his words silently, trying your best not to let the tears fall. He doesn't deserve to feel this way and hearing him admit that makes you want to cry with happiness for him, for yourself in succeeding to make him feel as loved as he is. You want to tell him this but he continues.

“I love you, angel. And I'm so sorry I couldn't get myself to tell you before. I am so sorry I made you worry and made other people lie for me. I don't know what to say except for that. I don't know how I can make this better.”

“You already did, Rem.” This time you turn to face him, seeing the tears on his face break your heart even more. “I mean I can't really fault you for your mouth sabotaging you.”

A small smile blooms on his face. “How dare it.”

“I know what it's like to be that anxiety. I thought you were cheating on me.”

“I would never!” He looks genuinely offended at your words.

“I know baby, but there's still that fear.”

“I'm really sorry.” He pulls you in for a hug.

“I know, Rem. I wish I could've helped you more.”

“Dove, you've already done more than enough, I love you.”

“I love you too. But if I find out you're keeping something else I'll kill you as you sleep.”

You feel Remus grin into the crook of your neck.

[iboatedhere]

Hi friend! Thanks for asking for prompts!

I’d love to request a fic based on a prompt from the June list - Peaches 🍑 (any interpretation you like 😏). Can’t wait to see what your awesome brain comes up with! ❤️❤️

start with a little inspo

"I'm having a full-on crisis."

"Henry, darling," Pez says over the line, "you'll have to be a tad more specific. You open a conversation this way at least three times a week." 

"This is the most urgent. This is the one that will have me change my name, grow a beard, and flee to the woods. It was lovely knowing you, Percy. Truly."

"I'm not entirely sure you could pull off a beard," Pez says. "Too blond and too pale. It'll just blend right in."

Henry groans.  

"Perhaps plastic surgery," Pez offers. "Although it would be a shame to cut up that gorgeous face." 

"Percy—."

"I'm sure I could find you an excellent surgeon. Let me make a few calls."

"Please go ahead and do that because I'm hanging up."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," Pez says with a laugh that negates his promise. "Tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better once you do."

"I might have, accidentally, slightly, sexually harassed a politician on Instagram."

"That's quite the adventurous statement," Pez says after a moment. "Care to elaborate for me, Haz?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning, love." 

"You know how dreadful I am at social media."

"Indeed. If I had a penny for every time you accidentally posted a screenshot or sent me a DM filled with gibberish, I would never need to tap into my trust fund."

"Yes, well, there's this man that I follow—."

"The politician? Haz, if you dare tell me that you've taken an interest in some old, white dolt—."

"He is none of those things. He's quite young, and I believe he's said his father is Mexican—."

"Oh, you believe?" Pez says as if he already knows Henry has hung on to his every word since he followed him. 

"He's brilliant," Henry continues, "and beautiful."

"But still a politician."

"He's pro all the correct things, Pez. Nobody is perfect, but he's as close as I've seen."

"And you sexually harassed him?"

"Slightly. Accidentally. And via Instagram, which I know doesn't make it any better."

"What is his name?"

"Unimportant."

"You do realize I can find him by looking through your followers. It's the price you pay for only following one hundred people."

"I like to keep my feed neat and organized. Plus, the fewer people I follow, the less of a chance I have of embarrassing myself."

"And yet here we are."

"Indeed."

"Henry George Edward James Fox. What in the world did you do?"

"Well. He posted this photo to his stories, and I meant to scroll past it—."

"Did you?"

"I meant to screenshot it," Henry admits. 

"That's more like it. Do continue."

"I meant to screenshot it and then move on—."

"Wank off."

Henry hangs up. If Pez isn't going to be helpful, then they don't need to have a conversation. 

Thirty seconds later, Pez calls him, and Henry picks up against his better judgment. 

"Is his name Alex Claremont-Diaz?"

"Pez!"

"He's not hard to find. Running for New York's 11th Congressional District. Originally from Austin, Texas. Yee-haw."

"Pez, please, I'm dying."

"Moved to Manhattan to attend NYU law, then relocated to Brooklyn where he decided to try his hand at politics. Seems to volunteer a lot and posts quite a few thirst traps. I'm telling you, Haz. A man in a well-fit suit is a thousand times sexier than one with his shirt off."

"Did you look at his stories?"

"Looking now. A photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Basic.  A Goldendoodle in the park. Adorable. A little photoshoot. Oh. Oh my. I see."

Henry hums, knowing precisely what Pez is looking at. 

Congressional hopeful, Alex Claremont-Diaz, facing sideways toward the camera in a jumper and khaki pants. 

"Certainly has a body on him, doesn't he? What did you accidentally say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. But I somehow sent him the peach emoji."

There's a moment of silence and then bubbling laughter. "Oh, Henry," he wheezes. 

"I don't know, my finger slipped on the screen or something, and then that little bar came up on the bottom, and the peach emoji auto-filled. I tried to delete it, but I hit send instead. Then I tried to delete that, but I couldn't, and now I'm panicking."

"Oh, darling."

"I don't know what to do. I'm so embarrassed I could die."

"I do think you're overthinking this a bit. The hopeful congressman did post that photo for a reason."

"So you think he was looking for this kind of reaction?"

"He's young, gorgeous, and very clearly knows it if he's taking GQ photo shoots and posting them to his socials. Plus, the angle of this shot…I think it's safe to say he got plenty of peaches sent his way."

"Oh," Henry says, doing an awful job of hiding his disappointment. He spends entirely too much of his time thinking about this man, and in return, he's barely a blip on his radar. "Okay. I suppose it's not as dire as I thought."

"As long as he doesn't block you, I think you're just fine."

"Okay," Henry says again as his phone dings. He pulls it away from his ear and looks down at a new Instagram notification. 

"Oh bloody hell," he breathes when he realizes what he's looking at. "It's a message from him."

Pez gasps. "What does it say?"

Henry holds his breath as he opens Instagram. "He sent me a photo of myself. That ridiculous one you made me post from during our trip to The Hamptons."

"The one in your swimsuit? By ridiculous, you must mean how ridiculously hot you looked. Posting that was a public service."

"I beg to differ," Henry says as another message appears. "Oh. Oh."

"What?" Pez asks. "What?"

"He sent the eggplant emoji. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Henry," Pez says, "love. It means you'll have quite the story to tell the grandkids."

[the-ace-with-spades]

another bit from the just hold my hand fic that probably won't ever be written

I wrote the little thingy about Bradley and Jake's middle kid, Ronnie, being a bit of Ice's favorite, and Mav might have a bit of a soft spot for PJ, their youngest (so far...) boy because of the shared name and the overall cuteness and clinginess PJ has.

But it's the twins, the oldest girls, Tommy and Nicky, that have everyone wrapped around their fingers.

This is mostly due to that one) they can speak, being almost six and all, two) they speak a lot and it's hard to keep up, and three) Mav and Ice missed the most out of their childhood, the over five years they didn't know Tommy and Nicky existed, so they might be overdoing it on spoiling them a little bit to catch up... (Or a lot, if you ask Bradley or Jake)

The thing is, the girls are starting school and with that, they meet new friends and this means new obsessions and things they want - it's mostly just trendy clothes, toys that they've never been interested in and dance and gymnastics classes, but nonetheless, it's something else.

Bradley and Jake are mostly good at fending off unnecessary or expensive requests and agreeing to the more reasonable ones (same as Jake's mom, who is used to having to budget for a lot of kids wants, being a mom of six herself), with Jake being the firmer hand on this occasion - Bradley was the one who stayed on parental leave with the kids when they were small and has a bit more of soft hand when it comes to spoiling them...

One of the things Nicky and Tommy get obsessed with is getting a puppy.

Obviously, Jake and Bradley say no. Not because they think a puppy would be bad for their family - Jake grew up with farm dogs and would love his kids to grow up with a dog - but because the logistics are a bit tough. There's already so much to do with four kids and more on the way, and dogs need a lot of attention as well. They're stationed in San Diego, for now, but it can also change, and it's hard enough trying to move a family of seven, not to mention a family of seven and a dog.

Now, Tommy and Nicky aren't blind to how much their grandpas are spoiling them. So they might or might not be especially vocal about wanting a dog around them. Maybe even suggest that they'd like a puppy for Christmas or something and just tell them about all the stuff they'd do with a puppy if they got one.

Of course Mav and Ice fall for it.

They're not as crazy as to buy/adopt a puppy for the kids without at least telling Bradley, and Bradley, you know, teases them a little for being so soft and letting themselves get 'manipulated' by six-year-olds but in the end, he tells them there's no way they can have a puppy now, no matter how much the girls want one.

The same night, Ice finds Mav browsing animal rescue sites on the couch, laptop on his knees as he makes notes in a little notebook.

Bradley said no, he signs, but Mav only shrugs.

"I know," Mav says and then pointedly, adds, "I'm not looking for a dog for them."

It takes Ice a minute to understand what Mav means but once he does, he sits down with him on the couch.

And it's not like Mav is looking for a dog just for the twins - he and Ice will be taking care of the puppy most of the time, and Mav admits that a dog is something he hasn't let himself have because of the life they were living (in the Navy, mainly) but he's retired now, and he had a dog when he was a kid and like it, and maybe it'll get Ice out of the house more often as well...

So, yeah, they get a french bulldog. And the kids love her - she was a rescue from a puppy farm and named Katharine Hepburn (called Hep by the breeders) and the kids swiftly rename her Kat, which everyone finds a bit silly but indulges.

Maybe Jake and Bradley give them a bit of a stinky eye over dinner (mostly Jake, not that Mav cares that much...), but Bradley only shakes his head and tells them they can't keep getting the kids everything they want. Well, personally Mav thinks they can at least try.

Kat is an amazing addition to the house. She likes to sleep in Ice's lap whenever he does paperwork in his office and prompts him for breaks when she begs for a walkie every few hours. She also makes them go out on walks on the beach or to the park more often and whenever the kids are there, she glows at the attention - they always keep an eye just in case the kids get a bit rough with her, but she's very patient and never gets bored enough to stop playing with them and lets the twins carry her around in her little bag. She gets plenty of exercise and affection and quality food and Mav also has someone to keep him company when he makes breakfast in the morning or someone to keep Ice's cold feet away from his calves at night. The twins like to buy her little cute accessories and feed her healthy snacks and take her out to the dog park. It's a win-win in Mav's head.

Kat is great and if her presence makes the twins want to visit more often - that's just another bonus.

[hold-him-down]

Hold Him Down (pt. 1)

TW: Med Whump, Gratuitous Med Whump, Medical Restraints, Chemical Restraints, Noncon Touch, Referenced Noncon, Parker Destin, Institutionalized Slavery, Noncon Drugging, Conditioning, Referenced Food/Water Restriction, Referenced/Described STI testing, Referenced/Described Shock Collar, Whumper POV, literally over 4k words wtf, get leo a pet fish and warm hug when.

Notes: This is one of those things that I'm, as usual, not sure needs to or should exist, but I spent so much time writing it that I couldn't just NOT post it, sooo here it is. Parts 4-6 coming eventually. Takes place in the 12-ish hour span after Leo is prematurely returned from our best guy, Parker Destin. This may be one that I revisit and try to refine down the line.

✥ ✥ ✥

From behind a two-way mirror, Handler Otto Gray and an unfamiliar intake handler stand, arms crossed over their chests. They watch Leo quietly, relieved that, at least for now, the dust has settled. 

His eyes finally closed, a few hours earlier, following a massive fight that ended in a sizable dose of Lorazepam. Even drugged, it took what felt like ages for him to settle down, and even longer for his body to finally go limp. Hours later, the salty tear-streaks are still visible on his cheeks.

The doctor asked them to wait on cleaning him up; in spite of the second handler’s objections, in spite of the apparently innate desire to put this unconscious boy in his place, the handler turned on his heels and left in a huff. Otto hesitated, sparing a quick glance at Leo. He wondered, briefly, how he had managed to fail so spectacularly, before dismissing the thought all together. Against his better judgment, he squeezed Leo’s hand briefly, then he checked to make sure the restraints were appropriately secured and exited. Today was sure to be a long day, sure to be even longer if they could not get a handle on whatever panic-induced psychosis Leo was clearly grappling with.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, shift change happened. The handler who had spent the evening scowling at Leo’s lifeless form clocked out, muttering a, “Good luck,” to his replacement. Otto stayed, though, with a quick glance at handler Nick Ford, according to his name tag, and a muttered greeting. Hopefully, he thinks, this one is better suited for this type of work than the last. The doctor comes up behind them, and the three stand in silence for a moment.

“He’s asleep?” the doctor asks, which is a question that could ordinarily be answered with a quick glance through a chart, but Leo has a notoriously unpredictable response to sedatives and that, if nothing else, has been noted numerously in his file.

Otto nods, his jaw locked. “I think so.”

Leo’s wrists are red, raw where each strap hugs them, but for the last few hours, they have been still. Mostly.

“For how long?” the doctor asks, thumbing through the notes from the night before. A colorful account of the events that led to this moment, which, although maybe not immediately helpful, might lend insight into the inner workings of Leo Evans.

“A couple hours,” Handler Ford supplies, and Otto is struck suddenly with a potent distaste for how this night has played out. 

It’s not out of the ordinary, exactly, for a worker to require this level of support after a contract.  He hoped, though, maybe naively, that Leo was more resilient than this.

He’s been drugged out of his mind, and as hard as he fought it, the drugs eventually dragged him under. To Otto’s understanding, it was only after several hours of trying to calm him down using other methods that he was eventually medicated, and, to Otto’s understanding, the doctor intends now to keep him drugged until he’s under control. He idly wonders if there’s a chance at modifying those plans. Leo is tough, sometimes damn near impossible to work with, but they had found a kind of balance when Otto was his handler. And he thinks, now, he can perhaps spare everyone some heartache if he can have a go at his former trainee.

Otto peers in closer to the window as Leo gasps, his wrists pulling once, lightly, at the straps.

“Alright,” the doctor says, at the same time that Leo’s eyes crack open. As Handler Ford reviews the notes with the Doctor, Otto studies Leo. He hadn’t been an easy trainee. He had been downright defiant at times, resistant to every standard training tool the DLS employed. Otto had been called in in his second month, after his primary handler was fired for, more or less, losing his patience with Leo one time too many, with Leo landing in the ICU. Even after that, success came in short, nearly unpredictable bursts.

When Leo had finally been cleared to take his first contract, that would usually have been the end of Otto’s time with him. But, at least in some of his most challenging successes, he liked to keep an eye on them, if not just to see how they did. He would tell you he did this to improve his own methods, and to help him understand the longer term implications of his work. That wouldn't be the whole truth, though. 

Leo was one of the select few that Otto found himself keeping an eye on. He had gotten through his first contract easily, and Otto recalled the feeling of immense relief as he read through Ms. Smith’s post-contract interview. Leo had been put in a short term holding site and almost immediately secured his second contract. That one wasn’t set to terminate for three months still, so when Otto got the notification that Leo’s file was being updated last night, he called in some favors with the intake department.

He stands here now, mostly frustrated, a little bit confused, and perhaps, maybe slightly sympathetic. Simmering beneath all that is anger, misplaced but a constant undertone that, he worries, may drive some of his decisions today. He buries it as deeply as he can. It serves neither him nor Leo.

Leo blinks hard toward the ceiling, but seems to clock his circumstances quickly. His head turns toward the mirror and for a moment, Otto thinks Leo can see him, right through him, right into the place Leo used to occasionally access and attempt to exploit.

Otto stares at his eyes, red, heavy, and unfocused, and wills Leo to remain calm. Leo swallows, and pulls again against the restraints.

Stop, Otto silently commands. But he doesn’t. Of course, he wouldn’t.

“What are the odds he’ll take it on his own?” Otto hears from next to him.

“What?” Otto responds, shifting his focus.

“The meds?” Handler Ford says as he holds up a small cup of pills in one hand, a syringe filled with an off-white liquid in the other.

“Oh,” Otto responds. The odds, he thinks, are nonexistent. The good news is this isn’t explicitly his problem anymore. 

“Any pointers?” Handler Ford asks then. At Otto’s look, he says, “You worked with him, right?” 

Otto nods, but doesn’t offer any pointer. Handler Ford stares at him intently, so, out of some misplaced desire to prove that he is not, in fact, completely incompetent with his trainees, he says, “A long time ago. I did his initial training after his first handler got canned.”

“What for?” Ford asks. He’s stalling, Otto thinks. 

“Assault,” Otto supplies. He inclines his head toward the room, and turns away from Handler Ford, re-orienting himself toward the window.

“Wish me luck?”

“Good Luck,” Otto says, not unkindly, as the handler disappears behind the door. Moments later, he is in Leo’s room.

Leo’s demeanor immediately shifts, from alarmed and fighting to gain function to panicked, but he stills, he swallows, he forces his eyes on the handler, and takes a breath. Good boy, Otto thinks.

He’s whispering something, but Otto can’t make out the words. He thinks he’s heard Parker’s name, and Handler Ford shakes his head.

Leo nods, then, and takes one of those deep, shuddering breaths that usually mean he’s on the edge of some big feelings. Otto, once more, leans closer to the window.

Handler Ford begins listing out the things he needs Leo to do this morning, and Leo’s brow creases as he takes it in, nodding after each item, but seemingly oblivious to the actual requests.

Inside the observation room, the doctor joins Otto.

“Do you know what happened?” Otto asks the doctor. Otto, immediately realizing he could be asking any number of things, clarifies, “That led to this. He didn’t have an issue after his first contract.”

“Sometimes they get freaked out after spending some time with a particularly cozy buyer,” he replies. 

Otto nods. 

In the room, Handler Ford’s hand is on Leo’s neck, pressing under the collar. Leo stays still, but Otto can see the fear in his eyes, behind layers and layers of grief. It’s odd, seeing him like this.

“You didn’t last too long, did you?” Handler Ford is saying, dripping condescension, as Leo swallows, holding in a fresh wave of tears.

✥ ✥ ✥

“It’s nothing personal, Leo.” Parker’s driver waits for Leo just beyond the threshold. In his hand, Parker holds out a DLS-issued bag.

Leo nods.

Parker grabs his face between his hands and presses his lips to Leo’s forehead. “You have to understand I didn’t plan for this,” he’s saying, but Leo’s ears are ringing. “I would have waited to take on a worker if I had any inclination I would be called away.” His words are kind, Leo thinks, but there’s almost a note of condescension under them. 

Leo feels a sort of emptiness spreading throughout him, a cold void that precedes what he could only describe as terror. For what’s next. For losing this thing, that he isn’t sure he should want, but he wants, so desperately. He clings to it. 

“Parker, I– I can,” Leo starts, taking a step back. He can, what? fix this? do better? be better? “Please don’t do this…”

Parker’s thumbs glide across Leo’s cheeks.

“I thought they beat that out of you,” Parker says, his lips pulled into a half-smile. Leo falters, the words he has prepared are completely knocked out of him.

“I– I’m sorry,” is all he can now formulate. He can feel his circumstances changing as every second passes. He’s going to be sick. The feeling of bile rising wars against the knowledge that if he is sick at this moment, it will be unforgivable. 

Parker’s hands drift down to Leo’s shoulders and he pulls him into a half-hug, pressing his forehead against Leo’s.

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker says. He wants to say more, Leo thinks.

Instead, Parker uses the grip he has on Leo’s shoulder to push him away and rakes his eyes slowly over Leo, from his head to his toes. He smiles and grabs the collar of Leo’s shirt, poking out from under a deep blue sweater. It’s Parker’s favorite.

He inclines his head briefly toward the door and Leo counts every breath he takes.

“They said not to send your books and clothes and things,” Parker explains as he pulls open the front door. “It’ll just go to waste. I can donate it, if you’d like?”

And Leo, in that moment, hesitates. Can he ask Parker to keep it, for when he gets back from his trip? Maybe, he thinks. Maybe Parker hasn’t considered that Leo could stay in the house and look after it, and he doesn’t need to send him away. 

And then it occurs to Leo that maybe Parker is using this time to help figure out the gaps in his training, because they’ve been butting heads lately, and if that’s the case, he wants to tell Parker that he will take this time seriously, and will be better suited to be what Parker needs him to be when he returns.

Leo opens his mouth to say this, to say any of it, even just to tell Parker that he will try harder when he gets back from his trip.

But the panic wraps itself around Leo’s throat, and Leo says nothing.

✥ ✥ ✥

“Are you ready to behave?” The words distort around the edges and Leo blinks hard, willing himself to focus.

This handler, Leo thinks, is unfamiliar to him. There is a fuzziness to both his vision and his thoughts, compounded by blurry memories of the night before. The handler is standing just outside of his line of sight, offering terse reprimands each time he fails to respond. He is trying, though. He wants to tell them he’s trying, but his tongue feels too thick and his voice won’t work.

There’s an added danger that Leo tries not to acknowledge, even silently. They’ve put a training collar on him, but they haven’t gone so far as to shock the world into focus. Even if his limbs didn’t weigh a thousand pounds, he would not be able to lift them. Thick canvas straps wound tightly around each wrist and ankle keep him in place, and Leo blinks at the unexpected wave of terror: these people can and will hurt him with no regard for the fact that he is wholly unable to protect himself. 

The drugs help him accept these facts, but do not help him to forget them.

Memories of the night before claw their way to the surface. Of the sound of his own screaming, of gloved hands pinning him down, of his clothing being pulled off of his body, his favorite blue sweater, which he held tightly to his chest, as it was ripped from his arms. He flinches at the memory of himself, just [some?] hours earlier, as he begged them to let him keep it, as a needle digs its way deep into his thigh. The darkness was quick to swallow him up after that.

And then there are other memories, too, from later in the night. Distorted flashes of the handlers coming to visit him, of cold hands pulling off the thin blanket that had been draped over him. He wondered if the drugs might ease the pain. When they didn’t, he allowed himself a moment of relief in the hope that this might all just be written off as a drug-induced nightmare in the light of day.

And now, the drugs fading, and the light of day doing nothing to erase ache deep inside of him, he swallows, blinking slowly, and longs only for the reprieve that unconsciousness may bring. That maybe they will drug him again, before they touch him again. His stomach turns over, and he draws his focus to the lights on the ceiling.

“He’s lost some weight,” he hears the doctor say, but they aren’t speaking to him, so he closes his eyes and taps each finger on the pad beneath him, just to see if he can feel them all. 

“His buyer kept him hungry,” the handler replies. He can, he thinks, feel them all. “My understanding is he kept him on a pretty strict eating plan.”

Leo recoils, hearing Parker’s voice in his head. The DLS has asked that you start out on a kind of strict meal plan for a little bit. He blinks back tears at the unwelcome memories. Of Parker, event after event, selecting everything he ate, everything he touched. Of the imperceptible nod Parker would give him when he reached for something at the dinner table. Or the terse shake of his head when he moved to something unacceptable. 

Leo wants to tell these men that Parker didn’t keep him hungry. That he was just enacting the plan he had been given.

“I’ll need a copy of it,” the doctor responds, and Leo squeezes his eyes shut, forcing his mind blank.

“It’s in his file,” the handler says. Leo’s ears ring. 

“Good.” The doctor presses his hands fingers into the back of Leo’s neck, the collar momentarily tightening as the fingers explore under it. “He’s dehydrated,” he says, and Leo can picture the handler typing his notes. “Are you going to tell me the buyer restricted his water intake too?”

From somewhere far away, the handler laughs, and Leo’s expression tightens, momentarily stunned by the mockery.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hears, but the voices are so far away now. He doesn’t know that he’s crying until he feels a thumb wiping at his cheek, and Leo sucks in a breath. “You’re alright.”

The world stands still for what could be seconds or minutes or longer. When the doctor’s hand finally migrates upward, and a light is shined into each of Leo’s eyes, he is momentarily blinded, but immediately aware that he has lost time.

The doctor’s fingers, inches from his face, snap once. “Hi, Leo,” he says simply. And then, “I’m Dr. Grant. Are you with me?”

Leo swallows, which hurts, and other memories slide to the surface of the night before. He tries to nod. The movement makes his head pound. “Yes,” he whispers, but based on the doctor’s– what was his name?– grimace, he doesn’t think it came out right.

The doctor sighs and seemingly gives up on Leo’s active participation, instead pulling the blanket down to Leo’s waist and putting a stethoscope to Leo’s chest. It’s nothing, Leo thinks, but it’s never just this. He closes his eyes again and begins counting in his head. Every so often, he forgets where he left off, and he starts over.

The doctor explains what he’s doing as he works, and Leo wonders idly if it’s for his benefit or for some other reason. To pass the time, and maybe to distract himself, Leo imagines a new doctor in the adjacent observation room, learning this trade. He wonders if it’s a good doctor or a bad doctor, and opens his eyes just enough to glance toward the mirror, to see if he can spot him back there. There are no good doctors here, he decides, and starts counting again.

The doctor looks at Leo’s wrists and describes them to the handler, who writes it all down. He examines Leo’s arms and his shoulders and his chest and his stomach as he searches for signs that Parker hurt him beyond what would be considered reasonable, which he didn’t, Leo wants to say, and that Parker will come back for him after his trip, and that he needs to be ready to go home. Then he starts counting again, because the idea of telling this man that Parker will come back for him will be met with laughter, and Leo doesn’t know if he can handle it. He’s pretty sure he can’t.

Fingers prod at Leo’s stomach and he can’t suppress the accompanying flinch, and as the drugs start to wear thin, he feels himself less and less able to accept what is being done to him.

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says, and Leo opens his eyes and is met with mostly, he thinks, concern.

“I’ll be back.” The doctor shoots the handler a look, and Leo wants to close his eyes again, but as the handler approaches, Leo knows, acutely, that it’s a bad idea.

“Are you going to cause a scene?” the handler asks, before lifting the blanket from Leo’s lap. Leo shrinks back, an instant passing in which his entire body goes rigid, but shakes his head ‘no.’ He hopes it’s enough.

He holds his breath, waiting for it to be over, or, waiting for it to start, and feels the handler’s eyes sliding down his body.

He thinks he might be shaking, but he isn’t sure. 

The doctor returns a moment later, and after a quick assessment of how things have evolved, issues a quick but gentle, “It’s alright.” It’s not, though, and Leo locks his jaw to keep from crying. He wants to ask if he can close his eyes again. Sometimes they would let him, when things were about to get really bad, in initial training. Sometimes, if he asked clearly, and if he caught them on a good day, they would let him.

“No wonder he was returned,” the handler says, leaning back against the wall. 

“Can I close my eyes?” he whispers then, before he can catch the humor in the handler’s expression. The doctor looks at him once, and nods. Leo doesn’t hesitate to clamp his eyes shut, unwilling to chance opening them at all, maybe ever, and instead continues counting in his head. 

“Continue working on your empathy,” the doctor says evenly, but Leo is pretty sure he isn’t speaking to him so he works on breathing and counting and nothing else.

He tries to block out the words. This is another moment in training, and it too will end eventually. 

“They put him through hell in training. He has a right to be mistrustful.” And then, to Leo, he says, “I’m going to give you something to help balance you out,” and his touch disappears. “Just hang tight, Leo.” 

Without warning, a hand clamps around his neck, pinning him in place. His eyes fly open, his arms pull instinctively against the restraints, as the tip of a syringe is pushed past his teeth and to the back of his throat.

He gags, his head knocking back against the thin pillow, but the handler’s grip is merciless, and in the next instant, a thick, bitter liquid is sliding down his throat. Tears well in his eyes, and he would swear the culprit was simply the bitterness of the medicine.

It’s mistaken for something else, though, and the handler releases him as the doctor runs a hand through his hair and says, “You’re alright.”

Leo’s shaking harder now, and his fingers grip into the pad he lays on and he urges himself to still. His chest aches as he tries to catch his breath, the taste of the medicine still heavy on his tongue. But still, almost immediately, he can feel his body lightening, the tension pulling back until the shaking eases, and the doctor nods, and approaches. Leo can’t feel the fear he knows he should feel. 

He can feel nothing.

Even with the memories of the night before, even with the doctor and the handler so close to him, he can breathe again.

Still, Leo can’t contain the subconscious jerk of his body as a flash of sharp pain shoots through him. The doctor issues an apology, along with a soft, “almost done,” and turns the swab, over and over, as Leo’s legs fight against the hands that hold them in place. He tries to find a place in his mind to retreat into, but he hasn’t been there in months, if not longer, and in that moment, it offers no reprieve. He thinks he cries out, locking his teeth and pressing his head back into the pillow as hard as he can to distract himself from what goes on lower. When the doctor is finished, he wipes Leo down and drapes the blanket over his lap.

What he doesn’t say is ‘Good, Leo,’ because they would both know it to be untrue. 

Still, in the next breath, the restraints are being unbuckled, and Leo is lifted at his shoulders until he is sitting, and his wrists are being examined, and there is a hand rubbing his back. He blinks slowly, willing the room back into focus, and he can hear voices but he isn’t able to follow their conversation.

“It doesn’t need to be this hard,” he thinks the handler is saying, and even though his head is hung low and his shoulders are scrunched to make him as small as possible, in his peripherals he can see the doctor shooting the handler a sharp look. “What?” he bites back. “It’s true.”

“Alright, Leo,” the doctor says then, ignoring the handler entirely. Leo keeps his eyes locked on the ground and he takes the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.

The doctor lets him catch his breath, rubbing his back every few seconds. Leo thinks he’s using it to get a read on his heart rate, but he doesn’t care just then. The doctor explains what’s next, and moves to ease Leo onto his side. Leo, for his part, cooperates, lowering himself slowly, watching as his fingers shake. He wraps his arms so tightly around his stomach he think he might leave bruises, but when the doctor touches him, he doesn’t flinch.

“There’s some bruising,” the doctor says neutrally, but Leo can’t look at the handler to see if he types it. It could be from the handlers, or it could be from Parker’s friends the night before. Leo chokes on his next breath, and in spite of the drugs, he can feel the panic rising.

“Leo?” the doctor says. “Are you doing alright?” 

The handler takes a step forward.

“I don’t consent to this,” Leo whispers, so softly he isn’t sure anyone hears him. The look the handler levels on him is scathing. “I–I kn…know it doesn’t… I know it doesn’t matter.” His voice is soft, slurred around the edges, but clear enough. “But I… I j-just– I want to make sure you know.”

The doctor says nothing, and the handler frowns. Leo wants to ask him to type it into his chart, but the doctor moves behind him, and Leo’s vision is suddenly and immediately blurred by his tears. 

By the time they finish, by the time the doctor drapes the blanket over his hips, letting his hand rest on Leo’s head briefly before retreating, Leo’s body is wracked with sobs. They leave him to calm himself down, and he finds himself, for a moment, grateful for the simple mercy.

But he cannot stop crying, as he stares into the mirror and thinks of all he’s lost. Of what, in spite of what he tried to convince himself he could have, he will never have. Of Parker, laughing with his friends as he picks out a new worker. Of the handler, and all those that came before him, smiling as they hurt him. The door opens with no warning and a familiar voice, a voice warm enough to burn Leo’s entire world down, issues a commanding, clear, “Stop this, Leo.” 

And almost instantly, Leo stops.

FIGHTER TAG LIST:

@whump-cravings

@afabulousmrtake

@crystalquartzwhump

@maracujatangerine

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@distinctlywhumpthing

@thecyrulik

@highwaywhump

@batfacedliar-yetagain

@finder-of-rings

@dont-touch-my-soup

@skyhawkwolf

@suspicious-whumping-egg

@also-finder-of-rings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@peachy-panic

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@urban-dark

@nicolepascaline

@quietly-by-myself

@pigeonwhumps

@whump-blog 

@seasaltandcopper

@angstyaches

@i-msonotcreative

@mylifeisonthebookshelf

@anonintrovert

@whump-world

@squishablesunbeam

@considerablecolors

@whumpcereal

@whumperfully

@pirefyrelight

@whumpsday

@whumplr-reader

@lonesome--hunter 

@darkthingshappen 

@alexmundaythrufriday

@whumps-and-bumps

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me

Can you write a fic where Remus keeps on comparing himself to roman (negatively) and the other sides also doing it, albeit unknowingly. It’s alright if you can’t, no pressure! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, self-doubt, remus has some abandonment issues

Pairings: platonic creativitwins

Word Count: 3761

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

1.

“Remus?”

Remus pokes his head out from under the whale carcass, adjusting the brim of his rain jacket to see Logan wading dubiously through the trail of viscera from here to the door. “Oh, hey, Pocket Protector, whattya need?”

“We had a brainstorm scheduled to start five minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind—wait, ‘show up?’”

He tosses a chunk into the piranha tank and the water froths up. “Yeah. You asked to have a brainstorm with me, so I was waiting for you.”

“Ah, I see. Typically brainstorms are held in the study or the living room.”

“Yeah, Ro’s are.”

Logan blinks. “Hm?”

“ Roman’s brainstorms with you are in the living room or the study or whatever. That’s ‘cause he can do the whole write-stuff-down-talk-it-out thing. I gotta be doing something.”

Logan dodges a spray of…something Remus isn’t going to name but rhymes with a really frizzy hairstyle, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Would you opposed to having a brainstorm in one of those locations if you bring something to do?”

“Peachy keen, Lolo, but there’re rules about me bringing my projects to places.”

“That is true,” he mutters under his breath, “is—so I take it you would prefer to have the brainstorm here as you…work?”

“Yep.” When Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment, Remus lowers his bone saw and glances over at him. “Is…is that okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to change my state of dress, and take audio recordings that I’ll have to transcribe later, but yes, I believe that is acceptable. You’ll have to give me a moment to change.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Logan nods and weaves his way carefully around the mounds of blubber starting to grow around Remus’s work station. Remus watches him go, a chunk falling slowly off of his shoulder, before he looks back at the carcass. He still has a few hours of work to properly strip it to where it’s usable, and this kind of work is nice for brainstorming ‘cause it’s mostly rote at this point, but there’s a sudden greyness to everything. Like if he raised his tools and tried to keep going the whale might turn to paper in front of him.

He sits there amidst his carnage, the faint sound of the piranhas nibbling away in the sloshing water behind him. He looks down at his hands, at the calluses and old scars. The bone saw lies limply across his knee.

Logan didn’t seem angry that he’d misunderstood what he wanted, but he did seem disappointed. Like he really wanted Remus to not be doing this and come to the study to do the brainstorm. Like Roman. But Roman’s process wasn’t Remus’s process and Logan had asked specifically to brainstorm with Remus.

The familiar sound of rain boots squishing through viscera brings him back, glancing over to see Logan wading through toward him with a recorder in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Whoa, cool jacket.”

“Thank you, I had Virgil help me design it after the one you made for him.” Logan brandishes the recorder and eyes the whale corpse. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“I’ve already got a few ideas.”

2.

Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, barely resisting the urge to flap his hands. This is it! He’s finally been allowed to join in on the communal baking day where everyone gets to make their own dessert for movie night. He stayed up late last night thinking of all the delicious things they could make and finally, finally got his list down to just five options. He’s really leaning toward the strawberry fruit tart but the lemon squares look so good but the pumpkin spice cookies would be so much fun to decorate—

Something shoves him gently into the wall and he grins as Roman ruffles his hair a little too hard.

“Roro!”

“Hey, Re, you look excited.” Roman chuckles as Remus chews excitedly on his costume collar. “You ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“Roman? Is Remus there?”

“He’s all yours, Padre.” Roman winks and ruffles his hair again. “Go get ‘em.”

Remus bounds into the kitchen, startling Patton a little as he sets something on the counter. He reaches into his pocket for the piece of paper—he even wrote it on paper this time to make it easier—and opens his mouth to explain his options, when—

“Good, I wondered where you were. Could you go ahead and measure the white sugar out for me?”

Remus pauses. Patton looks at him expectantly, holding out the cup. He takes it slowly, glancing at the containers and bowls already amassed on the counter. “Uh—what?”

“The white sugar. Granulated sugar, if you’d prefer. It’s in this one over here—“ he indicates a white paper bag— “and it just goes in that bowl there.”

A bit of grey flickers across his vision. “But we haven’t chosen what we’re making yet.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. We’re just gonna be making chocolate chip cookies.”

He frowns. “Ro said we get to choose what we make.”

Patton’s smile twitches a bit. “Oh, I just figured it would be—since we always have chocolate chip and it’s your first time—the others have already made their choices, they did it yesterday—“

Patton keeps talking as the list in his hand slowly greys out. They did it…yesterday? And didn’t tell Remus? But Ro said that he could pick…

“…so I figured this would be the easiest.” Patton’s still talking. “But if you really, really want to make something else, then—“

“No,” he grits out, shoving the list in his pocket and going over to the sugar, “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad, I love them too! Yeah, so that just goes in there.”

As they bake, or as Patton tells Remus what to do and watches him carefully as he does it, he can’t help thinking that this isn’t at all what Roman said it was like and how he doesn’t…really want to do it ever again. But at least he can eat as much of the cookie dough as he wants while Patton isn’t looking.

3.

“…hey, Snakey?”

Janus looks up from his book with the patented what-did-you-do-how-much-of-your-mess-am-I-going-to-have-to-clean-up expression and Remus squirms under it. He raises an eyebrow.

“Would you teach me how to dance?”

The expression morphs into one of surprise in an instant. He sets down his book. “Certainly, I can teach you. What for?”

”There’s a, uh, thing in the Imagination next month that me and Ro are putting on and we, uh, part of it’s a ball thing.”

“Mm. Will the rest of us be invited?”

“…I think so? I dunno, I need to talk to Ro. We, uh, no one else knows about it yet.”

“Ooh, a secret, I do love those.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Janus chuckles, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. Remus takes it and blinks as Janus takes them to a room in the Imagination he’s never seen before. Which in and of itself isn’t all that weird, because there are plenty of things that Ro makes that he never sees, but this one feels…familiar, almost. Like he’s seen it in a dream or something and only just now actually being able to picture it clearly.

At the very back of the theater, hidden in the shadows, some of the red seats look a little faded.

“Alright,” Janus says, “we’re going to learn a very simple waltz.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, you’re part of Thomas, and Thomas knows how to do a box step, which means most of it is already in there somewhere.” Janus taps the side of his head. “So, put your arms around me—no, no! Remus, put me down.”

“You said put my arms around you.”

“Not like that, like this.” Janus takes one of his hands and puts it on his waist, holding the other one out to the side. “Don’t—we’re not about to charge someone, Remus, relax.”

He goes all noodley and Janus sighs, making him stand back up with his arms not held out like he’s brandishing a weapon. Once they’re standing in a way that he approves of, he starts explaining how the steps work.

���Can you show me your box step?”

“While I’m holding you?”

“Good point.” Janus takes three very large steps backward and folds his arms. “Go ahead.”

Remus does his box step. Janus looks at him with his head tilted and sighs again. Every time he sighs a few more seats get a little greyer.

“I suppose it could be worse. Now, here’s what I’d like you to do: hold onto me, yes, like that, and do your box step. I am going to do an opposite box step and we are going to just try that, okay?”

Remus nods, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Janus, and starts his box. Janus moves back but he’s moving in a way that makes Remus have to let go.

“Hold onto me.”

“But you moved.”

“We’re dancing, Remus, we’re going to move.”

“But you—okay.”

Despite Janus’s patience—and fond exasperation that sometimes isn’t quite as fond—Remus can’t help but get hot behind the ears at how his body just doesn’t seem to want to do any of this. But every time they turn to face the back of the curtain, he sees memories of Roman dancing effortlessly in the big palace ballroom and he grits his teeth.

The curtains have gone grey by the time Janus calls an end to the misery of a lesson.

4.

“C’mon, Emo, you can do it…” Virgil’s next inhale is almost a whine. “Shh, shh, it’s…it’s okay, just…just try and breathe.”

“It’s not working.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re panicking—“

“I know I’m panicking! Knowing I’m panicking doesn’t help!”

Remus winces as Virgil almost shoves him away, He goes, because when someone’s having a panic attack and they let you know you’re making it worse, then you leave. But he can’t pull away too much because Virgil is hurting himself and that’s why he got summoned in the first place.

“Little spider,” he tries again, and Virgil lets him shift a little closer, “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

Not the thing to say when someone’s having a panic attack. Virgil sobs again, curling up even tighter, beginning to make small hitching noises whenever he can draw breath.

“Remus? Virgil? What’s—oh. Oh, no.”

”Ro?”

Roman hurries toward them, falling to his knees next to the shaking pile of Virgil, immediately pressing a kiss to his head and going to wrap his arms around him.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to be…” Remus trails off as Virgil immediately clings to Roman, latching on like a limpet and refusing to let go.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, Stormcloud, I’m right here. Shh, shh, shh, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you right now.”

It’s not fair of him to be jealous when Roman gets Virgil to calm down almost right away. It’s not fair of him to be resentful that Roman’s who Virgil wants when he’s upset. It’s not fair to be upset or offended by what someone needs to come out of having a panic attack. That’s not cool, it’s not right, it’s not fair to Virgil or Roman or himself.

But Remus watches Roman cuddle Virgil and press gentle kisses to his forehead, and he looks down at his own hands that still have some Kraken slime on them from when he got summoned, and he sinks out before Virgil’s feeling all the way better.

He hates himself a little more for it, but not as much as he hates himself for not being the person that Virgil wanted.

5.

It would be easier if Roman were shitty about it.

If he made a point to hold it over Remus’s head, or if he tried to help out of pity or pushed the others into including Remus when it was obvious that no one really wanted to, it would be better. But no, Ro doesn’t even seem to know it’s happening. Which is shitty in and of itself, but the others don’t even realize they’re doing it sometimes and it’s never where Roman is anywhere within earshot. It’s just glaringly fucking obvious that Remus is not Roman and everyone else fucking knows it.

It would be better if they weren’t both Creativity. It would be better if Roman and him weren’t constantly lumped together. It would be better if he was actually capable of truly hating Roman.

But he can’t. Because Roman’s his brother and he loves him more than he hates himself.

He doesn’t hate himself, not really. He loves his energy, loves his drive, loves his willingness to do whatever, explore whatever, be whatever, he wouldn’t want to be like anyone else because then who would be him? But he hates the way that the version of himself he wants to be is the exact fucking opposite of everything he has to be in order to not be always a little bit worse than Roman.

Even his fucking Kraken prefers Roman.

He’d shown up to Ollie’s pond with his favorite chum and the ball with the holes big enough for his arms so they could play catch, but Ollie had sniffed around and seen that there was only one of them—and it wasn’t Roman, and he’d drifted off into the corner of the pond to sulk. No amount of coaxing or bribing had been able to make the Kraken do anything more than half-heartedly chuck the ball not even halfway across the pond.

Remus left before he started crying and went to the dark underwater sea cave deep underneath the black tower’s subbasement. He shifted enough so he could breathe underwater and curled up in the thick kelp forest where no one would be able to find him unless they poked around with a flashlight. The kelp dissipated the sound waves of his sobs, a tentacle in his mouth to muffle them even further. Along the bottom of the cave, tiny tetra fish nibbled at his scales.

He’d stayed there for at least an hour before he realized that no one would come to look for him, so he’s been drifting ever since. Every so often the tears return, the kelp absorbing them as readily as ever, at least until they taper off again and he just floats there, in the water while the fish nibble the dead skin away from his scales. There was something comforting about the greyness of the water, how smooth and quiet it was, how easy it was to just look at the shape of the kelp and the movement of the fish and just drift…alone.

Yeah, it’d be much easier if Roman was shitty about it. But he isn’t, and that’s just another way that he’s better than Remus.

+1.

Remus doesn’t even have time to lie down and close his eyes before someone’s grabbing him around the waist and sinking him into the Imagination. They crash into a pile of pillows and he gets a mouthful of one, spluttering.

” Ro!”

”Hey, you always do it to me! Payback time!” He barely gets himself free before Roman’s throwing a pillow at him. “Now arm yourself!”

“What—“ he dodges Roman’s swing— “hey!”

“No talking, only pillow fighting!”

Remus manages to get the big green pillow up in front of his face just as Roman launches himself off another pile and come barreling down at him. He rolls onto his side and swats Roman across the face. Roman yelps and laughs and swats him back.

“You’re not winning this time!”

“I didn’t win last time! I— ack!”

“C’mon, Re, I know you can do better than that!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The two of them turn the pillow piles into a war zone, launching projectiles and themselves from various places until Roman gets Remus’s arms pinned and he can bap him lightly in the face over and over and over.

“ Ack—ppth—Ro!”

“Do you yield?”

“Yeah, yeah, you— pffthp— I fucking yield.”

Roman chuckles and presses a big smacking kiss to Remus’s cheek, rolling off of him and sprawling out across the pillow carnage with a contented sigh. Remus winces, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing one of the plushier pillows to hold.

They’re in one of the higher tree canopy tents, he realizes as he takes in their surroundings without the distraction of plush warfare. Overlooking the massive waterfalls with the help of the full moon and the soft glow of the amber lanterns overhead, he can spot a few of the others in trees surrounding the falls as the rush and roar of the water fades soothingly into the background. The soft sweet smell of fresh water wafts upwards, mixing with the cool night air. He curls up a little more, hugging the pillow, watching the water rush by.

“So,” Roman grunts as he sits up a few moments later, “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mhm.” Something pokes his side and Remus yelps. “You sure?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure, I— eep!”

”You really sure?” Fingers keep poking and kneading his sides and trying to get under the pillow. “You really, really sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said no!”

He moves without thinking. One second Roman’s sitting next to him and the next he’s sprawled near the other side of the tent. A horrible itchy guilty mess starts building in the back of Remus’s throat and he looks away before he can watch the shutter fall over Roman’s face.

Because that’s why Roman did all this, isn’t it? He noticed Remus was upset and because he’s a good brother, he took him to their favorite sleeping spot and had a pillow fight with him and asked him if he was okay. Because Remus isn’t like Roman and he didn’t appreciate any of it and then he just shoved Roman away when all he was doing was trying to help and he really is just the worst brother ever, isn’t he?

”I could’ve done that better,” he hears softly before the gentlest arms wrap around his shoulders and there’s a warm chin on his left one, “I knew better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Re, I just—I’m worried about you.”

“…you are?”

“Yeah. You’ve been—you’ve been kinda grey lately, you know? I’ve tried asking the others if they know what’s been going on, but they don’t—whoa, hey, hey,” Roman whispers when Remus starts to sniffle, “hey, c’mere, let me cuddle you, hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“‘M sorry, it’s not your fault, promise—“

“Hey, hey, uh-uh, none of that, you’re okay.” Roman pulls him into a weird pretzel ball of limbs and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Does it have something to do with the others?”

“…it’s not their fault either.”

“Now I think we both know that might not be entirely true.”

“‘S stupid.”

“It’s making you upset, Re, it’s not stupid.”

“But it’s true!”

“What’s true?”

“You’re—you’re better than m-me.”

Roman goes very still for a second, then he pulls back and cups Remus’s face in his hands. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I’m better than you?’”

And just like that, the whole sorry story comes driveling out of him. About how Logan didn’t really want to do the brainstorm, about how Patton didn’t let him pick what he wanted to bake, about how he couldn’t comfort Virgil properly, about how hard trying to learn how to dance was, even how Ollie didn’t want to play with him. And Roman looks at him and his face falls and then he’s shaking his head and squishing Remus’s cheeks a little.

“You’re not worse than I am and I’m not better than you. We’re different, and that’s fine and good. Who gives a shit if Logan got a bit messy, you’re the one who can multitask way better than anyone else here. You have the discipline to actually train with all of your weapons and you can fight with all of them. And who the hell does Patton think he is that he can regiment who can bake what? I’ll bake with you next time and we can make whatever the hell you want. And as for Virgil—you know he only started coming to me because he missed you, right? I’m serious,” he continues when Remus’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “he said that your energy was really comforting when he was growing up and I have a similar one so he started coming to me. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, but he’s still too caught up on everything else.

“I don’t give a shit what they all think, you hear me? I think you’re incredible and you’re my brother. I’m the only one allowed to start our stupid sibling rivalry shit.”

”What about me?”

“Fine, you can start it too. But only us, okay?”

Remus sniffles. “But then why didn’t Ollie want to play with me?”

“Because you don’t sneak him treats when you play Toss.”

”Wait, you what?”

“Uh, I mean—“

Remus grabs a pillow and thwacks Roman over the head with it. Roman bursts out laughing and half hugs, half tackles Remus to the ground.

“You’re fucking great all on your own, Re, you don’t need anyone else’s approval.” He leans up a bit. “But you always have mine, okay? I’m always gonna think you’re the greatest.”

“Even when I put slime in your bed?”

“I’ll get you back by putting dragon splines in yours.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t put slime in my bed, then.”

Remus gives another sniffly little laugh and Roman ruffles his hair. They both lie down to look at the waterfall, arms wrapped around each other.

“…hey Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best brother ever.”

“No,” Roman says, booping Remus’s nose, “ you are.”

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[iluvvernn]

One piecexMeister!reader RESONANCE CHAPTER 1 "NICE TO MEET YOU"

Your back colides wih a wall kocking the wind out you, you grunt in pain you call out for your partner "You alright Rin?" you ask him getting up weakly "Yeah how about you?" "I'm fine" Rin transforms back into a scythe "don't worry we just gotta hold it off until the others get here"you tell him getting in stance to attack your eyes not leaving the kishin egg you draw back Rin getting ready to attack

You run up to the egg serving a clean cut to it's stomach making it screech in pain while the egg is immobilized you go in for another hit but end getting critical hit to the stomach this morning breakfast almost coming out you drop Rin clutching your stomach crouching trying to recollect yoursef but before you can get up again you get another hit to your side making you go through several walls until you blackout.

A small boat in the east blue

"So hungryyyy.." A balck haired boy sportng a strawhat whined "Maybe if you didn't eat all the food in the storage you wouldn't be so hungry" A orange haired girl reminds the strawhat boy groans "Need meat..." "We'll be at the next island soon just wait until then" she says looking out at the ocean the raven haired male changes into a starfish position his heel kicking the green haired swordsman "so boringgg.." "quit complaining so loud I can't sleep" the sworsman opens one eye to look at the strawhat "you two are insufferable" the red head roll her eyes they continue the journey in silence until a loud crash from the water breaks it the black haired boy jumps up curious of the loud sound both the red head and the moshead look up seeing the sound as a threat "What's that!?" the strawhat points at a floating object in the ocean his arm streches abnormaly pulling the object through the water pulling it through to the boat "It's a /your gender/!!" the boy shouts "Wow really!?" the two others say sarcastically the black haired boy struggles to get the person on the boat "Zoro help me out!" he says the mossead huffs as he gets up helping his captain get the mysterous person on the small boat.

"Is /your pronouns/ dead..?" the raven haired boy asks as he pokes them "No you dumbass they're probably just unconscious" "we should probably wake them up.." she weighs the pros and cons 'they could be a threat but them owing us a favor could come in handy at one point..' The black haired boy slaps the unconscious person waking them up

(P.O.V switch)

You open your eyes to see a blurry figure of a man? no a boy standing over you "SHISHISHI you're awake!" the boy grins widely a girl with short orange hair punches him on the the leave a steaming bump on his head

"Give her some space ya idiot!!" the girl reprimands "uh excuse me?" she looks over at you "where are we exactly?" you ask scratching your cheek "that's easy we're in the east blue!" the strawhat says confidently "yeah no shit!' he earns another hit from the young woman "we're on our way to a nearby we'll drop of there if you'd like." she regains her composure "really thank you so much" you smile'so kind!' "No problem that will be 200million belllies!" she smiles innocently as if she didn't charge you more than all of yourlife savings your jaw drops"200million!?" "yep!" the black haired boy jumps next to you quickly introducing himself "I'm Monkey d. Luffy! nice too meet you!" he smiles "Nice to meet you too I'm /First Name/ " you stick your hand out for a handshake but as he shakes you get a faint whiff of shit and meat 'he might farted or something no big deal' you think smiling "Oh and that's Nami and Zoro!" he points to the red head and a guy with green hair 'has he always been there..?' you sweat drop you sit in silence as the Luffy guy rants about bugs or something like that 'I wonder how Rin and the others are doing did they take down the kishin egg yet?' "hey are you listening??" luffy asks as he waves his hand infront of your face "huh? oh yeah" "Ok then!" and just like that he goes back to talking this goes on for about 30 minutes "So /Name/ why'd fall into the sea earlier?" Nami asks you stiffen 'i'll just leave some details out' "I got into this really serious fight with this priate and got punted into the ocean.." you answer embarrassed "Wow!! that guy must have been really strong then!" Luffy jumps into the conversation "that must mean that youre strong" he adds "you can say that alright" you sweat drop "Since you're strong you should join my crew!" he grins holding the strawhat on his head as a breeze goes by "join you crew?" you repeat raising an eyebrow "yup!" "Nah I'm good." "Why not??" he pressures you "I already work for someone" you prop your head on your arm "Then just quit" he says now laying on you 'that definetly was not a fart whens the last time this guy showered..' "luffy just drop it already if they don't want to join the crew then they dont have to." Zoro says "Fine.." he pouts crossing his arms "We're closing in on the island." "get ready to dock." Nami orders

I hate it so much๋࣭ ⭑⚝

[mayaree-darling]

A Never Ending Journey (Prologue) // Honkai Star Rail Isekai AU

from Mayaree: a star rail isekai au i've been thinking about for a while now. might not make the fic yet because i'm busy with other things, but have the idea for now. consider it a prologue.

There is a secret lost in the Astral Express Archives: Akivili is merely a regular human. Akivili is not a name pertaining to a single being. It is a title passed down from one human - one being - to another, hidden under the guise that Akivili is merely an Aeon that has a penchant for shape shifting into a mortal form. It is a well-guarded secret among Trailblazers of past days.

Perhaps there really was an Akivili at one point, at the very beginning of it all. A journey is meant to start somewhere, right? But even at the very beginning, it was a mere human who built the train. Not all beginnings are loud, thunderous, and special - sometimes a journey begins from a small dream to see the great heavens and beyond. That one small dream from one small human passes the dream to another.

A guiding light for the other Nameless to believe in, to follow in their footsteps.

When outsiders ask why Akivili changes forms so frequently, the answer is simple - a journey does not end with one person, it does not end until the dream dies, and Akivili's constant change is a symbol of that. Or so they say. The trailblaze continues as long as someone carries the dream.

But at some point in history, in a forgotten Amber Era, the Akivili name is not handed over. There is no longer anyone to accept the title. The last Trailblazer - the last Acting Akivili, in a way - takes the name with them in their departure. Lost to the cosmos.

As Himeko restores the Astral Express and takes on the Path of the Trailblaze, the passing of the Akivili name is a forgotten art. Or maybe an unneeded one. As the Astral Express takes on more passengers, the Nameless know where they need to go - they have chart their own course.

However, the Name of Akivili is also a calling. A need for guidance in traversing the vast stars and tied fates. And at the addition of a Nameless carrying a stellaron in their core joins the trailblazing journey, Akivili is summoned once more.

This new Akivili carries the face of the original, of the very first. The face of the Player. After all, a game only truly begins when the Player starts their journey in this new world. And in that way, did you not build the Express with your own hands?

Once more, Akivili is a passenger of the Astral Express, meant to lead the Nameless.

Welcome home, Akivili.

Oh, how the Trailblaze has waited for you.

from Mayaree: I'll be calling this AkiviliPlayer!Reader AU for easier hashtag

✨ Masterlist ✨

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them int

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Little Love

Love Bites, Chapter 3 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

Word Count: 4,631 words

Warnings: flashback within a flashback (your perspective), alcohol, Astarion's parents (I gave them my own names), grave desecration, grief

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion never went back to the same tavern twice. Not for many years, at least. But, against his better judgment, he went back to yours, three nights later.

He wasn’t sure what was drawing him back, not really. It wasn’t as if this particular tavern seemed very promising. Its patrons were, well, regular people. Nothing about them seemed particularly special. In fact, it was probably more dangerous to be going back so soon—for all Astarion knew, Rahul’s friends were still loitering there and would kill him the moment they saw the man Rahul had left the tavern with. The last man who ever saw Rahul alive. 

His other victims from the past two nights were inconsequential. They hadn’t insisted on telling him their names, the male druid and female elf who had each been a little more than an hour’s worth of his time combined. They had been easy targets, lonely people who were all too easy to seduce. He almost felt bad for them. But not as bad as he felt about Rahul. Both nights, Astarion had jolted out of his trances with a shout upon hearing Rahul’s screams in his dreams again. Both times, he’d been rewarded by Godey with a whipping. 

Even as he walked into the tavern, Astarion wasn’t sure what he was doing. It was only after the door had swung shut behind him, hitting a little bell as it did, and you looked over from the bar and raised a hand in greeting did he realize why he’d come back.

He locked eyes with you as he made his way toward a small table in the corner. He paused, watching you. There was something in your eyes that made the tension in his shoulders disappear. 

You’d done your hair differently today. It was braided back, a couple strands of it loose around your face, clearly having escaped during your work. Your beautiful face had morphed into an expression of surprise, like you were shocked to see him here again.

But there was something else in it—the slightest bit of repressed hope, an expression Astarion had seen all too often on the faces of his victims just before they died, when they still thought he might save them from his master. 

On your face, though, hope was comforting. You looked almost…relieved to see him. 

Before he realized what he was doing, Astarion turned toward the bar and sat directly in front of you. He heard your breath catch in your throat and your pulse speed up and for a moment he felt a twinge of regret. You, too, would make an easy target. 

You recovered quickly, however. You finished wiping down the bartop and dropped the rag into the sink. You leaned on the bartop. “What can I get you tonight, sir?”

“A glass of your finest red wine,” he says after a moment of thought. 

Something minute in your face changed. You blinked too fast and hid the look in your eyes, but for a moment the façade of a bartender serving a patron disappeared. It was only a second, but was enough for the gears in Astarion’s head to start turning.

You laughed with a smile on your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, hun. The ‘finest red wine’ changes from person to person. What kind of flavor are you going for?”

Hun. The moniker stood out in Astarion’s mind, dominating every other word you’d said. Hun, short for honey, and for some reason, he could hear the complete word in your voice: softer, gentler, loving. Not at all the way a bartender speaks to her patrons. 

Only after you raised your brow did Astarion remember you’d asked him a question. He shook himself out of his head. “Oh, something full-bodied,” he said. 

“Now that I can work with,” you said. You turned to search your shelves and Astarion watched you release a long breath very slowly. You wiped your palms on your pants before reaching up and sliding a bottle from its place. You presented the bottle to him. “How about this?”

Astarion studied the label and vintage. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of it,” he said, shrugging idly. “But if you think I’ll like it, I’m inclined to trust you.”

He watched you cut off the wax seal and uncork the bottle. You poured enough for a tasting into the glass and slid it across the bartop to him. 

“How does that taste?”

Astarion sniffed the wine before swallowing it down. Pleasantly, it didn’t taste like vinegar, like most wines he’d had the bad luck to drink in tavern after tavern. He could taste the alcohol and the grapes and the blackberry undertones easily, all melding together wonderfully.

“This,” he said, passing back the glass, “is absolutely what I am looking for.”

You grinned and filled up the glass. “I thought it might be.”

Astarion swirled his glass while you re-corked the bottle and set it in ice. He watched as you helped another patron sitting at the bar, a middle-aged woman complaining about her husband being out of work and asking if there was perhaps a job for him at the tavern.

You calmed her as you made her cocktail, talking soothingly and nodding in sympathy as she complained about trying to feed their infant. It was your sympathy that made Astarion feel pity for the woman. 

Something about you was achingly familiar. There were times when you spoke, certain words that you said, that struck a chord in him, simply because they sounded familiar. The way you moved behind the bar, so graceful in a space that was unbearably small, seemed comfortable to Astarion, as if he would be able to anticipate your movements and react accordingly if he were to join you behind the bar. 

It was almost painful, this feeling of familiarity and alienation combining in one person. It was like the nights when Astarion first realized he was forgetting his life before being a vampire where he would sit in the dark and grasp at straws for pieces of his life, only for his mother’s face to fade into nothingness and his father’s voice to be lost in the shadows forever and—

A twinge of pain split through Astarion. It was nothing compared to the pain Cazador or Godey regularly inflicted on him, but it was enough to make him flinch anyway. He rubbed his temple as if he could will the building migraine away.

Your eyes flicked over to him, watching the motion with concern, but it just confused Astarion further. You reacted to him so readily, so easily. If it hadn’t been for how innately close and familiar you felt, Astarion would simply have chalked it up to your attraction for him. It wasn’t unlike his prey to keep a close eye on him. But he hadn’t even picked you as his victim for the night, he hadn’t even attempted to seduce you yet. This was entirely of your own accord. 

You gave the woman her drink and pulled your braid over your shoulder as you helped the female tiefling Astarion had seen and considered taking back to Cazador the other day. Suddenly he was very glad he hadn’t; the disappearance of a regular might have been enough to force him out of this part of town for several months at least. 

Astarion glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the tavern. He didn’t see the group Rahul had been with anywhere; perhaps they had already moved on, without a care in the world for their lost friend or comrade or what have you.

Perhaps they thought Rahul had settled into a happy life with a nice young man and would be staying here to live out his days, enjoying nights of passion and drinks at a nice tavern and playing the protector of the pretty boy elf he’d left with. 

Astarion wasn’t sure if it was for his own sake or Rahul’s that he wished that such a fantasy was what they believed. 

As you gave the tiefling a glass of champagne, your eyes strayed back to Astarion. He caught your glance and grinned.

“Surprised to see me still sitting here?” he teased.

You shrugged. “You were here three days ago and vanished without a trace. Forgive me if I feel like you might blow away in the wind.”

“Sometimes it feels like I might.” The words slipped out without any thought behind them. For a moment, Astarion wondered what the hell was wrong with him to dare say such a thing, but your sympathetic smile soothed him.

The talent of a well-practiced bartender, he thought. Get your patrons to loosen up, ply them for more liquor, take home more money—all by smiling and charming and flirting. From one actor to another, I must hand it to her. She’s quite good at this kind of thing.

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked, propping your head up on your hand. The movement exposed more of your cleavage, but judging from the look in your eyes, Astarion guessed that wasn’t your purpose in the movement. You genuinely wanted him to open up.

Your gaze stopped him from speaking. Your eyes were clear and focused entirely on him. You weren’t like the other bartenders he’d chatted up in the past, with their shifting eyes betraying how they were never really focused on him but instead on their tavern and the other patrons they could squeeze more coin out of. 

And, what’s more, your lips formed a soft smile. Joy and love and the sun itself seemed to radiate from you and your expressive face. You looked at him the way a young woman ought to look at her betrothed, with the purity of young love, much more genuine than the pseudo-love and lust he so often saw in his victims. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion whispered, unable to stop himself from asking. 

You realized yourself quite suddenly. Your face dropped and Astarion wanted to beg you to look at him like that again, to apologize and say he never wanted you to stop looking at him like that—he just wanted to know why? Why had you chosen him to be the object of your affections?

Your eyes dipped to the bartop, where his fingers still held the stem of his glass. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “You— You remind me of someone I know. Someone I miss.”

“A lover?” Astarion guessed, attempting to make it into a tease.

“More than that,” you said, your voice impossibly soft and serious. You fiddled with the strings on your corset. “He was my best friend.”

Astarion’s heart sank in his chest. “Was?”

You nodded slowly. “He died. A long, long time ago.” You shake yourself out of the sorrow that settled on you like a blanket. “You just so happen to look a lot like him. Hells, you even sound like him, just a little bit. I’m sorry if that made…this…strange. You just…sort of brought him back to me, for a moment.”

“Not at all,” Astarion said quietly. “I’m…happy to have brought you that.”

You nodded, lost in your thoughts, your eyes fixated on his. Your lower lip trembled. You sought words, but came up empty handed. All you said was, again, “You remind me of him.”

~❊~

It’s him. By the gods, it’s really him.

You kept busy for the rest of the night, watching Astarion out of the corner of your eye. For he was Astarion, you were certain of that now. Hearing his voice, smooth and suave and the same as you remembered had confirmed it for you. The moment he’d requested your finest red wine, you could hear him calling you darling, could hear your name rolling off his tongue. 

He didn’t remember you, that much was obvious. Some part of you was glad he didn’t, because you weren’t sure what you would have done if he had remembered who you were. You had to focus on that gladness, or else you were going to focus on the disappointment, which made you want to sit on the floor and cry like you had when you’d first received word that he was dead—the kind of crying that left you shaking and never seemed to stop and sounded more like screams than anything else. 

You were also quite certain he would not be flirting with the young elf sitting next to him if he remembered you, his best friend since birth and lover of nearly two decades. 

Perhaps even more obvious than his lack of memory was how he was alive—or rather, undead, for it was quite clear he was a vampire. He was careful to hide his fangs, but the red eyes were enough for you to know, combined with the paleness of his skin and the color of the skin around his eyes. It might have been two hundred years, but you knew your lover well-enough to know he had not been quite so pale in his life. 

The realization of what he was answered a question that had lingered in your mind for years, ever since you’d paid a visit to his desecrated grave. The city had explained the dug-up earth to be the vandalism of the gang that had first attacked and killed him and had assured you and the Ancunins that Astarion’s coffin had not been touched; his body remained inside.

Clearly, they had been wrong. 

You glanced at Astarion. The smug, seductive, confident look on his face was that of a practiced lover, nothing like the goofy and slightly shy boy you had made love to. You wondered what happened, but knew a lot could happen in the two hundred years between now and that terrible night. 

~❊~

The Ancunins walked hand-in-hand. You were just ahead of them, leading the way to their son’s grave, a plot you had chosen to keep their beautiful boy in the sun at high noon. It was far from high noon now; they had chosen to visit the grave in the night, certain they would be attacked by the Gur who had killed their boy if they were seen mourning. 

It was a beautiful night, the kind of night you and Astarion would have loved. He would have held your hand and helped you to climb up to the roof, and you would have sat there for hours, cuddling and talking and admiring the stars he’d been named after. He would have told you about his day at work and played with your bracelets and rings when talking about the difficult rulings he’d made that day made him anxious all over again. He would have wrapped his cloak around your shoulders when you got cold. He would have kissed your nose when you asked to go back to the safety of the bed you shared. He would have helped you climb down and would have put you to bed, only to go stand on the balcony to stare up at the sky for a few moments more. 

He loved the night, and this was the kind of night he would have wanted to have lasted forever: not so cold that you shivered instantly, but cold enough to have a chill bite in the air. Bats danced in the air and wisps of clouds moved across the moon and stars. Pale light illuminated the world in a hauntingly beautiful way. It seemed particularly cruel. 

His mother trembled terribly. Already, silver tear tracks stained her cheeks. You had never seen Selwynn so frail, so scared. Even when she’d found out her son had been murdered, she hadn’t been the skeleton she was now. No, then she had been a fire, screaming and raging and demanding answers until the tears started coming. Now she was a ghost, silent and pale, her veins stark against her skin. All the life and color had drained from her in the past few days. 

His father fared better, but not by much. Thesan’s eyes were sunken, his hair matted and limp, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, though he had not cried at all since he heard the news, unlike his wife. He hadn’t been resting, but then again, none of you had. More than once, your mother had stumbled across you in the night to find you in the kitchen, staring sightlessly into the dark, a glass of water held limply in your hand.

You were glad you hadn’t let them see the body. Looking at them now, you were certain it would have broken them to see their golden boy without life. It had been enough to break you; let them, at least, live out their long lives with their last memories of their son being of him alive and smiling and kissing them goodbye as he left for work. 

Somewhere in the graveyard, an owl called. Another answered. Mice squeaked and scattered nearby, scurrying for shelter amongst the fallen leaves and in the shadows of tall graves. 

“Where is he?” Astarion’s mother asked. Her voice was little more than a faint whisper, lost easily in the slightest breeze. Gone was the strong, operatic voice that had once sung her son to sleep when he was little. “Where’s my son?”

“Patience, darling,” Thesan said, sounding just as—if not more—tired as she. 

“He’s just ahead,” you promised. You looked forward to where you knew his grave to be. Through the grey dark, you read his name on the stone and it felt wrong, like it went against the grain of your life to see him like this—a stone instead of a young man. 

The three of you came to a rest before the headstone. You took a step back and let them crouch before their son. Silence fell heavily over them and the cemetery. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes; you looked down so they couldn’t see you cry. They’d seen enough of your tears. 

“Astarion,” Selwynn whispered, her voice wavering. She reached out to touch the stone, tracing her son’s name carved into it with care. For a moment, she seemed to be at peace, looking at his name. It didn’t last. In moments, she crumbled with a cry that was a cross between a sob and a scream. 

She keeled forward, grabbing the stone and pressing her forehead to it. She inhaled sharply and coughed on her own tears. When she finally cleared her throat, helped by her husband rubbing her back, her cries became wails that shook her entire body. The freshly turned dirt beneath her began to stain her pale grey dress. 

Thesan puts an arm around his wife’s back, comforting her the only way he could, and he put his palm on the top of the stone. He began murmuring in Elvish, too low for you to hear clearly, but you caught a few words and understood he was whispering for his son to find safety in the afterlife, until he was reborn. After a moment, his broad shoulders began to shake and your heart cracked in half as you realized he was crying for the first time. His tears interrupted his speech every so often.

You wiped your tears from your eyelashes and sat on the ground. You hugged your legs to your chest, biting your lip so hard you drew blood to keep yourself from crying again. 

His father looked up at the starry sky, a fist raised in anger. “He’s still a child!” he shouted. “A child! And he’s in the godsdamned ground!”

A sharp cry came from Astarion’s mother and she got to her feet so quickly she knocked her husband to the ground. She looked at you and you rose from where you sat.

“I can’t stay here,” she gasped through tears. “He’s beneath me. I can’t— He— He shouldn’t be… He should be in my arms! In your arms! But he’s beneath me!” 

She looked at the ground like she might start digging it up to see her little boy again. You took her hands in hers, holding her tightly. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to stay. You can go. It’s okay. He’ll understand. He knows, I promise you he knows,” you whispered. A tear rolled down your cheek. 

Selwynn squeezed her eyes shut. “I just want him to be okay…”

“He is okay,” you promised. “He is with the gods. They’ll send him back to us, one day, in a new body.”

Her lower lip trembled. “But he won’t be my son anymore.”

“There can always be more children,” Thesan started, speaking hesitantly.

“No!” she snapped, almost screamed, at him. She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. Calmer, she repeated, “No.”

He nodded. “I thought not.” He wrapped her in his arms and she cried into his chest. He opened his arm to you and you joined them in their hug. “You are still our daughter, even if you are not marrying our son. You are…the only family we have left.”

A small sob escaped you. Your body trembled as you looked up at him; you had always thought Astarion resembled his mother more, but now all you could see was the man Astarion would never get to be in his father’s face. “Thank you.”

He kissed his wife’s hair. “Come, darling. We should get home. You need to rest.”

You led them out of the cemetery. It was only after you were closing the gate leading into it that Selwynn stopped short, gasping loudly.

“Flowers! I— I forgot to put flowers on his grave,” she moaned, folding her hands above her heart. She glanced at the flowers outside the gate door. “I have to go back—”

“I’ll do it,” you said. “Get some rest. You need it. You deserve it, after all of this.”

“He deserves flowers from his mother,” she said weakly.

“In the morning,” Thesan said. “When all of this has died down, we can come back and pay him our respects.”

You shared a look of understanding with him; even if it took weeks, months, years for Baldur’s Gate to stop reeling from this crime and for the Gur to calm down from the ruling—which was being reversed later in the week, much to the relief of everyone else who the Gur had believed complicit in Astarion’s actions and who had feared for their own lives—the Ancunins would visit their son again to say farewell when they could finally do so in peace.

You watched them go. Several long, silent minutes passed, but you waited until they were out of your sight and you were alone before you bent to pick flowers for your lover. You chose them carefully, plucking only the most vibrant and tallest and fullest for him. Once you had a sizable bouquet of wildflowers in your hand, you headed back through the cemetery and search out Astarion’s headstone again. You found it easily, but your heart stopped beating when you saw it.

Something was wrong. You knew it instantly. The already chill air seemed to turn frigid as you looked at the plot. It was too dark, too big, spilling into the spaces next to it. It looked nothing like it did only minutes ago. 

An iron tang filled your nose, distinct and wrong and laced with something you could only describe as evil. 

You ran, dodging around headstones to get to the grave—to get to Astarion—as fast as possible.

I couldn’t protect him that night. I have to protect him now!

Mud squelched beneath your feet, smelling strongly of blood and death. You looked at it in horror; it was a mix of dirt and gravel and clay from deep in the earth, all of it soaked in blood. All of it in piles, coming from the center of Astarion’s grave. 

The smell was worse than the sight: chemicals of entombment, the body’s natural gasses, blood, vomit, sweat, urine. Something about it seemed alcoholic and heady, making you sway on your feet, though you knew that could easily just be from your disgust. 

But worst of all, his stone was splattered with the terrible mixture. 

Your stomach dropped to your feet and then rose to your throat. You cupped a hand over your mouth to keep back your bile. Tears streamed down your face.

A moment. You had been gone only a moment. And in that time, someone—or multiple someones—had come and desecrated your lover’s grave, as if killing him had been enough. 

You fell to your knees with a gut-wrenching scream. You bent in half, clutching the flowers to your chest, clenching your teeth tightly. You bit down on your hand to keep from screaming again.

Muffled sobs ripped themselves from your chest. “Astarion,” you gasped. “Astarion, I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry! I— I— I’ll fix this! I promise! I’ll…I’ll speak to the town’s jury, I’ll get them to punish whoever did it— Gods, your grave. Your beautiful stone…”

Mindlessly, you put the flowers aside. You stepped around the muddy mess of chopped up dirt and pulled out your handkerchief. You cleaned the stone with it as best as you could, using your fingers and spit when the cloth was too dirty to do anything else but push the gunk around. 

“There,” you said when it was as clean as you could get it. “Clean. Clean like you.”

You looked at the turned grave dirt. “I have to fix this, too. Your parents—I can’t let them see you like this, can I? They’ll be devastated.” 

You got back on your knees and began shoving the dirt back over the grave, patting it back down and drenching your hands and arms with bloody dirt. As you worked, you spoke to him: “I’ll get this all sorted out in the morning, love, I promise. I’ll get you justice. I won’t stand for this, Astarion. I’ll talk to someone first thing tomorrow morning. They’ve already killed you, can’t they just leave you be? Is dying not enough for—for a simple ruling? Yes, I admit, it wasn’t the best decision you could have made, but there had to be a better solution than…than mugging you in a godsdamned alleyway and then desecrating your grave! At the very least, if they can’t respect you, can’t they have some respect for your parents? For me? Your mother doesn’t deserve this endless pain!” You sighed, leaning back and wiping your forehead. Some part of you, the rational part, was aware that you had streaked blood and dirt all over yourself, but the part of you working didn’t care very much. “Of course, I can’t make you too pretty yet, Astarion. I’m sorry, but no one will believe me if I fix you up perfectly. But I can at least make it look like you haven’t been graverobbed.”

You worked for several more minutes. At last, you staggered to your feet, a wave of exhaustion passing through you. 

“You know what?” you said to the headstone. “I’m not waiting until morning. I’m going to go talk to someone right now. I can’t let you stay like this all night. Not when your stars are shining down on you.” Dimly, you were aware that you looked like a graverobber and that you looked insane—but that would probably help your case. “I’ll be back soon, Astarion. I promise I won’t leave you alone like this.”

You began to walk away from his stone. Only a few paces away, you paused and turned around. You stared up at the sky and pointed up at it as if you could command it to watch over your dead lover while you were gone. 

Once more, you knelt to kiss his name. 

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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[annwrites]

thought this place was empty.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (part of a series)

— summary: billy finds you at a house in hawkins.

— tags: billy being infatuated with you just a lil

— tw: none

— word count: 1,984

— a/n: i love u ethel cain, tysm for the constant inspo; preacher's daughter is so amazing.

ooh i like this one, yes i do. i think this is the start of something good.

billy isn't going to be portrayed by me the same way he was in thoroughfare. he's an adult now & has grown into a man. i'm not saying he won't come off as a tad cocky at times, but he's going to be far more mature in this series.

He doesn't know why he cares so damn much. Why it piques his curiosity to begin with. But it does.

He'd, for the last two weeks, passed you every day on his way home from work.

You'd walk along the side of the road, before eventually turning off to the right, heading up a dirt path through the woods.

He wanted to know what was out there now. Some meadow? A swimming hole? A treehouse? He'd come up with many theories while sitting at home alone, having a microwavable dinner and a cold beer at the end of the night, hardly paying attention to whatever b-movie was playing on the little antenna color TV in front of him.

No. You were what he thought of. To an annoying level. He'd screwed up brake calipers one day at work with you on his mind. After that, he began to resent you a little. Some random girl with a backpack on her shoulders and no knowledge that he even existed.

He'd not even gotten to set eyes on your face yet. He'd taken in everything else he could, however.

Your long hair, tanned skin, the dresses and shorts you usually opted for in terms of attire, the bracelets that littered your wrists.

He would never, never admit to having gotten off one night in bed thinking about your tight backside swaying as you took step after step atop the same asphalt his tires rolled along. In truth, before that night, he couldn't remember the last time he'd bothered touching himself at all.

Once high school ended, and his father was no longer responsible for him, he'd been kicked out near-immediately and he'd changed as a person not long after. It'd been time to grow up. No more games.

He had crashed at this friend's place or that one's. Eventually, a homeless shelter or two. He worked odd-jobs until he saved up enough to begin renting an apartment. And then he found full-time employment at a mechanic shop. He stayed mostly to himself. The work was steady, the paychecks not usually all that much, but he saved little-by-little what he could, until he'd had enough for a down-payment on a fixer-upper on the outskirts of town.

He didn't want to live anywhere near where his father was.

He didn't mind the extra time it tacked onto his commute every day. Enjoyed it, really. It gave him time to think. Not that he wasn't always.

So, to get his head to quiet, he threw himself into work while at the shop, and into his new house once he was home every evening. The roof needed patching, the wiring re-done, the front steps replacing, the paint was chipping from the walls. The list was damn-near endless. But he liked that. It gave him something to do. His hands stayed occupied, if nothing else.

He earned a few more calluses in time from it all. He'd wondered once what you might think about a man with rough hands. Then wondered even more why the fuck he cared in the first place.

He didn't even know your name. And he was almost certain you were still in school. Unless you just liked carrying a backpack everywhere. Perhaps you went into those tall trees to camp. Perhaps a lot of things.

It's a Thursday when he finally decides to do it—follow you. Out of boredom, if nothing else. Or, that's the reasoning he gives himself, at least.

In truth, he wanted to know you. Ask you more questions than he was sure any normal person would probably be comfortable with. He wanted to see what was out here in the wilderness that seemed to draw you in so much that you returned day-after-day.

Then again, maybe you were meeting someone. A boyfriend, a girlfriend—a lover.

The thought makes his heart squeeze, which makes him feel just the least bit pathetic. He was no longer the boy he once was. The one that all other guys at Hawkins High wished to be, and all the girls there wished to be with. He'd become an after-thought to all of them now, he was sure. His glory days were long behind him.

But perhaps new memories could still be made.

The Camaro's tires crunch over twigs and dried leaves, rolling slowly between swaying trees of green, the path becoming more and more narrow until there's no place left for him to even turn around. He sighs, knowing he'll have to reverse the entire way back out of here.

He puts the sedan into park, exiting, his arms resting on the top of the car and the door frame as he gazes ahead, wondering what direction you'd possibly gone. He shakes his head then, closing and locking the driver's side door, pocketing his keys before—at least attempting, to follow after you.

The forest is littered with trees all around, Billy winding his way through them, looking back over his shoulder occasionally, wondering if he shouldn't head back to his car and go home. You were long gone by now. Maybe you'd already circled back around yourself, heading out and to...wherever it is that you live.

This was a stupid idea. Not that he hasn't had worse.

Just as he's ready to throw in the towel and settle for you remaining a mystery to him—perhaps he'd take the alternative of having answers to instead making up tales about you, who you are, where you go, and what you do when you get there—he comes into a clearing of tall grass, a rusted steel windmill in the distance, and a two-story house that looks just a tad dilapidated to the right of it.

Surely you weren't in there?

He continues walking, glad he's wearing pants as the weeds brush against his knees. He climbs the broken front steps, the wooden banisters rotting, until he's standing before a screen door at the front of the home—or, rather, house. A home at one time to someone, he was sure. But no longer, as it'd been clearly abandoned long-ago.

He raises his fist, wondering if maybe he should knock first, then lowers it.

He pulls the door toward him, stepping inside.

He takes a moment to look around first, glancing to each side of the empty domicile. A dining room is to his right, with a table that carpenter bees have clearly been making a meal out of for some time, and a sitting room to the left, an old sofa with missing cushions in the middle of it, a coffee table covered in dust before it.

He then heads for the staircase that lies straight-ahead.

The steps creak under his heavy boots, and he fears one of his feet may just fall through one if he doesn't step carefully. Once he's reached the second-story landing, he lets loose a small breath of relief.

He turns to his left and sees a long hallway, multiple doors on either side, some open, some closed, the summer sun shining against fading yellow wallpaper through open and broken windows within the rooms.

"Hello?" He calls, only half-expecting a response...which he's not given.

He begins to head down the hall, only peeking into the rooms as he passes them, looking for you.

"Anybody here?" He tries again, and is once again met with silence; only the sound of a gentle breeze outside greets him.

He stops when he finds a room three doors down on his right that has a dirty mattress on the floor. He doesn't want to imagine the things you'd discover—new kinds of bacteria—if you took a blacklight to it.

He stands in the middle of what he assumes used to be a bedroom, hands on his hips, and he looks to the open window at his right, a soft wind causing the tattered curtains to billow.

And then he hears it. A small creak to his left, and it's only then that he realizes there's a closet, with double doors, and he sees something shift on the other side through the wooden slits.

His heart begins to beat a bit faster as he comes closer, hands resting over the small knobs, and when he pulls it open, you're standing in the middle, back against the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He looks down at you, heart skipping a beat, breath taken from him for just a moment at the sight of you. You were...beautiful.

"What're you hiding in a closet for?" He asks, then kicking himself. Hell of an opening, Billy.

Your brows furrow, wondering how it's not obvious. "I was hiding from you. Who...who are you?"

You take a step toward him and he takes one back.

He slides his hands into his pockets. "Billy...Hargrove. I live just-"

"I don't care. Why are you here?"

He raises a brow. Not quite the meek little mouse he'd initially assumed, then.

He takes a look around before settling his eyes back on you once again. "Thought this place was empty."

"Well...I'm here. I found it first."

His lip twitches. "So, this is where you've been coming every day for two weeks, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably. "How do you know that...?"

He jerks his head. "Saw you on my drive home last couple of weeks." He reaches up with his right hand then, running it over the curls at the back of his head nervously. "I got curious, I guess. About what was out here that was so interesting to make you keep coming back over and over again."

He looks back to the mattress, then to you. "You don't sleep here, do you, kid?"

You cross your arms at the infantilizing term. "I don't see how that's any of your business. Now that you know what's out here, feel free to leave."

He smirks. You were a firecracker. That much was for certain. Almost reminds him of himself once upon a time.

"Place looks like it should be condemned. If not tore down altogether."

You balk then. "You won't tell anyone. Will you?"

He shakes his head. "No. But, you do know it's not safe for you here, right? All alone like th-"

You pick up your backpack, shrugging it on. "I'm fine."

You head into another room, trying to get away from him—or, rather, hoping he'll finally get the hint that you'd like for him to leave—and he follows along behind you.

"Never told me your name."

You roll your eyes and stay silent.

He nods. "Strong, silent type, I get it. Guess I'll just have to guess. Is it-"

You turn back to him then, and he nearly trips trying not to fall against you. "Y/N."

He smiles. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You cock your head to the side for a moment. "I doubt it."

You head into another room then, slamming the door in his face.

He just grins as he turns the handle...and discovers it's now locked from the other side, smile falling.

He knocks then and is, of course, given no response.

He leans against the wall with his shoulder, arms crossed and he licks his lips. "I can wait all day. Got no place better to be."

All is quiet, until he hears something being shoved open on the other side of the door—a window? And then a thump.

Were...were you climbing down the side of the damn house?

He turns the handle again to no avail, so he then quickly walks down the hall, racing down the steps, and when he rounds the side of the house, he sees you jogging through the tall weeds, backpack bouncing as you disappear into the tree line.

He crosses his arms, smiling, shaking his head. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he mutters to himself before turning around to start heading back to his car.

[thesparkling-diamond27]

The Second Bridgerton And I: Part 4

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Y/n Clearwater becomes named the “Sparkling Diamond” by Queen Charlotte herself, but she doesn’t know what to do with all this attention. Of course she has her family, but sometimes that doesn’t seem enough. But what happens when she encounters a specific Bridgerton, which changes the course of her season.

Author’s Note: I am sorry for not updating sooner. When I posted chapter 3 I already had half of this chapter written, but I stated working recently and I have been reading the Bridgerton prequels (which are amazing by the way I highly recommend), so I have been a little busy. I am here now and I already have most of the next chapter written, so there should be another update really shortly. This story is also going to be a lot longer than I originally thought wave I planned to do about one chapter per episode and that plan is out the window. Especially since am adding scenes that are not from the show.

Author’s Note: This chapter includes scenes from season 3 episode 3 of Bridgerton. Down below is the link to the part 3. I hope you enjoy! Y/nn= reader’s nick name.

My family and I entered Lord Tremble’s house and it was quite different from other social events. This event was nothing like a ball and was more like an event to socialize and mingle with one another. I would definitely be glued to my families side tonight because I knew many people would approach me. Last ball I was able to completely occupy myself with Maxwell, but here it won’t be the case.

I wonder if Benedict and his family were here yet. He did say he was coming and all week I have been looking forward to spending more time with him.

My siblings and I were rather hungry and we made our way to the food table. As I picked my desired foods I couldn’t help but notice the deer heads that were hanging from the wall.

“Is it just me or are those deer heads watching us?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Adeline said, “but it sure seems like it. They are creepy. Let us hurry so we can leave them.”

Adeline and I hurried with our food selection and forced our brothers to do the same. The four of us then made our way across the room. It has been a while since the four of us passed the time with another and it brought back memories from our childhood.

“What are you thinking about Carina?”

Noah asked.

“Nothing.” I said. “I just missed this. The four of us all together.”

Alex put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Well we are not going anywhere little sister. Even when you want nothing to do with us we will still be here annoying you. And you will still be here annoying us when we want nothing to do with you.”

He said that in the most brotherly way possible and it warmed my heart. Adeline and Noah both gave smiles filled with the same message and meaning as Alex.

“So.” Adeline started, “How are things with you and Lord Tewkesberry? I’m assuming things are going well.”

“And here is where we take our leave.”

Alex said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We do not need to hear the two of you discussing men. We hear enough of that at home.” Noah said. “We will be over there in the corner in case you need us.”

Adeline and I both nodded in understanding and the both of them walked away.

“So. Lord Tewkesberry. How are things?” Adeline asked.

“Things are going well between us. The way things are going I am expecting him to ask to court me soon.”

“That is good.”

“How are things going with you and Lord Harvey?”

“Very well! I think he might propose before the end of the season!”

Lord Harvey asked Adeline to court her the day after the ball last week. They have been courting ever since and Adeline seemed content.

“Are you happy Adeline?”

“I am.” She said with a smile.

I smiled in return. We were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Speak of the devil.

“Miss Clearwater. Miss Clearwater.” Lord Harvey said.

Adeline and I slightly curtsied while he bowed in return.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” He said towards Adeline.

“Of course!” She said excitedly. “Are you going to be okay all by yourself?” She asked me.

I wanted to say no. I did not want suitors to approach me and I would feel uncomfortable being all alone. I have also been on edge all day, and being left alone can possibly trigger me, but I did not want to hold Adeline back with Lord Harvey.

“Do not worry about me. You go on ahead.”

Adeline nodded and she placed her hand into Lord Harvey’s and they went to have more privacy. I found myself quite parched and decided to find a lemonade table.

The lemonade table was in a separate room tucked in the corner. It was the perfect place to hide away. I took a sip of the pale yellow liquid and it was refreshing.

“Miss Clearwater.”

I turned around and was startled when I saw three men standing in front of me. When did they get here?

“We’re sorry for frightening you Miss Clearwater. We simply wanted to talk with you.” Said Lord Clayton I believe.

“That is alright. I thought I was alone.”

I said.

“Well now that we have your attention, we are quite curious about you.” The second man said.

“Curious about what exactly?”

“About you.” The third man said. “What are your hobbies? What makes you tick?”

“Are you a morning person or night person? What makes you you?” The second man asked.

Lord Clayton started asking me a series of more questions, but I could not hear him. His words were blurred as if we were underwater. The questions from the three of them were all too much at once. I felt the oxygen slowly leave my lungs and I could not breathe. Tears started to fill my eyes. I had to get out of here.

I walked past the three men and tried to find a quiet private place to breathe. Several suitors tried to stop me, but I kept on walking. I even bumped into one of them, but I did not pay them any mind. I just needed to get out of here. I walked down the hall and opened the nearest door. It was empty, so I quickly shut the door and slid down to the floor. My tears continued to flow as I tried to control my breathing. This was not the first time I have had a panic attack, but it was the first time in a while. The solution for me to become well again is for me to be secluded until I felt like I was better.

After a while my breath evened and I could finally see clearly. I took a moment to look around the room.

To my right was a marble fireplace with the fire running and a portrait of Lord Tremble, I’m assuming, above. Towards the center of the room was a sofa and two chairs across which a coffee table in between. Behind the lounge area, facing me, were windows that were ceiling high. It had a windowsill to gaze at the view. The room was cozy.

I wiped my tears from my face when I was pushed forward by a force. I turned around and noticed someone opened the door.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.”

It was a man’s voice, but it did not belong to my father or brothers. The door opened fully and Benedict stepped into the room

—————————

Benedict

I entered a room, with Eloise and Colin, and I saw Ms. Stowell and her mama noticing my presence.

Great! Just the two people I needed to see.

I turned to Eloise.

“If anyone asks for me, I am not here.”

I did not wait for her response and escaped. I wonder if Y/n is here, because she did say that she will be here. I started reading the book she recommended me and it was very interesting. Maybe we can talk about it. I definitely had some thoughts to share.

I walked into three entirely different rooms with no sight of Y/n. Maybe she has not arrived or I missed her. I noticed the table with alcohol and decided that that was the way to go for tonight. If anything was going to save me from the relentless mamas it would be this, but not too much that my mind will be too affected to function.

I took a sip of the amber liquid and it burned as it went down my throat. However it kept me in check and awakened my senses.

Suddenly someone bumped into me and I looked to see that it was Y/n. But something was wrong and she did not look well. I placed my cup on the table and went after her. She was walking fast past people, so it was difficult to keep up, and she made a left. I heard a door slam coming from an empty hallway. She was in one of these rooms.

I opened the first two doors and was left with empty rooms. I approached the third door and I heard sniffle coming from the other side.

She was crying and my heart clenched at the sound. Y/n deserved nothing, but good things. I could not bear to hear her cry and I knew I would not like seeing her cry if I was in the room with her.

I waited until her crying to die down before I opened the door, however I did not realize she was sitting on the ground and I accidentally hit her.

“I’m sorry I hit you! I did not realize you were on the floor.” I said.

Y/n looked at me from the ground and her cheeks were stained with dry tears. I quickly crouched down to meet her on the floor and pulled out a handkerchief from my coat pocket.

“Here.” I said softly.

Cautiously I dabbed under her cheeks and around her eyes. I caressed the side of her face with handkerchief and started into her eyes. They were the most mesmerizing e/c eyes I have ever seen, and I somehow saw my future when I looked into them. It was crazy to think of such things, but when her irises met my own I felt a sense of warmth and home.

I snapped out of my daze and handed her the handkerchief. She blew her nose and we fell into a comfortable silence.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I asked.

Y/n said nothing, but she stood up and walked over to sit on the windowsill. Her gaze upon the view below. I slowly raised to stand up and followed her to where she sat.

“The windowsill has always been a source of comfort for me. Whenever I am having a hard time, here I can find peace.” She said.

I nodded in response, but she did not look up at me,so I do not think she noticed.

“I had a panic attack. It has been a while since I had one that I forgot how exhausting it can be. The questions Lord Clayton ,and a few others, were bombarding me with and the immense pressure was all too much at once. I had to get away.”

“Do you feel better now?” I asked.

“I do not know.”

“What immense pressure do you struggle with Y/n?”

“Pressure from being the diamond. My family. Society. Especially society.”

“Why mainly society?”

Y/n stayed silent and I thought she would remain that way. Then she looked at me for the first time, during this conversation, and I saw frustration in her eyes.

“People in society want everyone to remain in a neat little tiny box. To fit in. But would if I do not want to remain in the neat little tiny box. Would if I want to explore outside the box. See what more life has to offer. Would if I want to break free from the restraints that society has put on me because I am a woman.” She said

I did not know what to say after that statement. As a man I knew that we were “more free” compared to women. Especially involving marriage. We had the choice to be unwed, while unmarried women are considered spinsters. I guess I never really thought of ideals of this nature because I am a man and those rules do not apply to me. I could never know what a woman goes through, but I wanted to understand for Y/n.

Y/n stood from the windowsill, walked towards the fireplace and continued.

“I cannot do that though, because as soon as I step out of that box everyone will cast me aside. They expect more from me because I am the diamond. I have to be perfect. I have to be the perfect mold of society. And it kills me every time I play the game. There are so many rules! You can dance with who you like, but it is rude to deny a dance if you have not already reserved one with another man. You cannot ask to court a man because you must wait for them to do so. You cannot dance with one partner too many times. If you are caught in a scandal the whole ton judges you.And so much more. When does it end Benedict? When?”

Y/n’s voice cracked at the end and I noticed she began to cry. I quickly rushed over to her from where I sat. I stood in front of her and she looked up at me. Her eyes glistening with tears. I slowly wrapped my arms around her and laid my head on top of hers. I slowly began to caress her back. It was only thing I thought to do without making her more upset.

“I know I cannot make things better, I said, “but I will do everything in my power to make you happy. As your friend.”

—————————

I pulled away from Benedict and thanked him. He nodded, but I can still see concern in his eyes. I freed my self from his embrace and cleared my throat.

“We should both leave this room before someone notices that both of us are gone and catches us here. I would not want anyone to get the wrong idea.” I said.

“That works with me.”

I noticed I was still holding his handkerchief and motioned for him to take it back.

“Keep it. It is yours.” Benedict said.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I looked down at the white handkerchief and noticed that Benedict’s initials were beautifully sewn into it with blue stitching.

B.B.

“Thank you.” I said.

I looked up at Benedict and we both shared a mutual understanding. We will discuss this later. I folded his handkerchief and stuffed it into the top of my dress. I then made my way to the door, twisted the door knob and left the room.

I began to search for my family. This incident happened because I strayed from my family in the first place. I hope I look presentable because I did not want my family asking questions about what happened. Not when feelings from the situation was still fresh. I did not even ask Benedict if I looked decent. I regret not asking.

I entered the room with the deer heads and I saw my brothers in the corner. As I approached them they must have noticed my affected mood and appearance because they looked at me with concerned expressions.

“Are you okay Y/n?” Noah asked.

“Can…can I stay with you two for the rest of the night?”

“Of course.” Alex said.

They did not say anything, but I can tell by the looks on their faces that they would want to talk later on like Benedict.

—————————

The balloon was quite disappointing. For the past week, all throughout the ton, people have been talking about the giant ballon. That it was grand and majestic and could transport several people to other areas.

The balloon part was beautiful. I can tell that a lot of detail and time went into the design. The basket part on the other hand , was small and strong looking, but not grand and majestic. It could fit about two people if you want enough space to maneuver around and three people tops if you are content with little wiggle room. I would definitely not ride the balloon if I was in need to travel a long distance. I assumed it would be bigger.

“Come one! Come all! Watch man attempt to take flight! Soaring to nights never before seen!”

A man with a megaphone was shouting

these words as my family and I entered the area. I was wearing a light blue day dress with a pink sheer scarf wrapped around my shoulders. Blue was uncommon in my everyday wardrobe, so I was excited to wear such a dress. The fabric was light and breathable, which was perfect for the hot weather.

“Let us all address the queen.” My mama said.

I linked my arm with Alex and we carried on to Queen Charlotte.

“I thought the balloon would be bigger. At least able to fit more than three people.” I said.

“People always tend to use hyperboles with such things like the balloon.” Alex said.

“What kind of sweets do you think they would have?”

I motioned to the pink tent with a pink sign that said “Ms. Plaskitt’s Sweet Treats”.

“You always have room for sweets Carina.”

“There is always room for sweets Felis.”

“Hoping for macarons?”

“Of course!”

We both laughed in unison. Our walk came to a halt when we became within talking distance of the queen. She looked beautiful with her turquoise colored dress and her unique wig. Her wig was extremely unbalanced, but that didn’t seem to deteriorate her poise and elegance. Queen charlotte is always so calm and collected and manages to always keep people on their toes. I wonder if I can become a lady like her one day in the future.

I approached the queen with my sister and mama. My brothers and father close behind. I curtsied with as much grace as I had.

“Flawless my dear. As I expected.” Queen Charlotte said. “Have you been enjoying your season so far.”

“I have your grace.”

“Any updates on Lord Tewksbury?”

Queen Charlotte was asking if Lord Tewkesberry courted or not. My family and his family were the only few people who know about the news and I intend to keep it that way.

“No. I am afraid not.” I said.

“Pity. Hopefully he courts you soon. I do not want my efforts to be in vain.”

“What do you mean your efforts being in vain?”

“I was the one who insisted to your parents for you to pursue Mr. Tewkesberry.”

This was the first time I was hearing this news and it made me feel unsettled. I thought I had made a bond with Maxwell and it was I who decided that he was a man I would like to persue, but all this time that was not true. It made me feel like my parents did not trust me with making my own choices.

“I hope your generous efforts result with a beautiful match.” I said.

“As do I. Now enjoy the day my diamond. I do not want to hold you forever.”

I gave the queen a grateful smile and curtsied before leaving. I noticed my mama looking at me with a defeated look. Hoping I would look at her, so I can speak with her, but I was not in the mood at the moment. This shall be a talk for later.

I went on a search for Pen or Benedict. I knew both of them were on their way if they were not already here. Whichever one I see first shall keep me company. As I was walking, I came across the sweets tent again. Maybe they have lemon cakes or possibly macarons I thought.

I entered the tent and notice Pen with Colin. I was surprised to see them with one another after everything that has happened, but they are friends after all. Pen was the one to notice me first when she turned from Colin.

“Y/nn! How lovely it is to see you. Care to join me?”

She did not give me a time to respond and grabbed my arm to follow her.

“My goodness. Eager are we?” I said.

Penelope realized that she was pulling my arm and set me free.

“I’m so sorry Y/nn.” Penelope said, “I’m in an excited state. I am trying to locate Lord Debling.”

Penelope and Lord Debling hit it off the other night at Lord Tremble’s gathering. I was happy for Pen. I knew she was wrong with her headspace on marriage and I was glad I was able to prove her wrong.

“Let us find him then.” I said with a smile. Penelope smiled back and we began our search for Lord Debling. We made a roundabout around the balloon when I noticed Lord Debling conversing with Eloise and Cressida Cowper.

“Pen he is over there past the hill, but are you sure you wish to talk to him considering who he is with at the moment.”

“I cannot let people stop me from doing what I would like to do. If that is how people lived nothing would get done.”

Penelope began to walk towards Lord Debling and I admired her determination, because if I were in her shoes, I would be walking the opposite way. I quickly caught up with Penelope and we continued our way. When we were three yards away from them Penelope hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Maybe you were right. This is a mistake. We should head somewhere else.”

“No Pen! Let us—“

“Ah Miss Featherington. Miss Clearwater.”

We both turned to see the owner of the voice to be Lord Debling. Penelope seems stuck not knowing what to do, so I nudged her along to continue walking. As we walked towards them I noticed Eloise and Cressida looking not pleased with us joining them. There is free rein around the park, so both of them have to deal with it I thought.

“My Lord. We do not wish to intrude.” Penelope said.

“Nonsense.” Lord Debling said, “I am about to embark on another trip with no one, but my crew. Surely you two will not deny me the company while I have the pleasure of it.

“Of course not.” I said.

The conversation became extremely uninteresting. I believe Cressida mentioned the bird the great auk,but I cannot say for certain. I tuned out most of the conversation. The wind was blowing more strongly than before and it felt nice against the humid air. I was mentally counting how much money I have to purchase sweet treats when I heard Penelope say,

“I must prefer the natural world to the..unatural one. There is nothing I love more than…grass.”

I mentally face palmed at the mention of grass. This conversation was not going great for Pen. I was about to intervene and help, but Lord Debling stated.

“What about grass do you so love Miss Featherington.”

“Uh…how it is so…green.”

“It is quite green.”

Cressida was trying to hide her laughter while Eloise seemed sorry for Penelope. I could not tell how Lord Debling was feeling, but he did not seem to find Penelope’s comment about grass odd. Maybe it is due to him being odd himself, but I would never say this out loud.

As the conversation progressed the wind grew stronger and it caused my scarf to blow throughout the wind. I chased after it, but the wind blew it even further. I ran after it, but the basket of the balloon was coming towards me. I could either run towards the basket to retrieve my scarf or run the other way empty handed. The latter was more safe, but that was my favorite scarf . Who knows what can happen to it.

I heard Penelope shouting my name, but I ignored them. My mission was to retrieve my scarf.

From the other side of the ballon I heard men trying to pull the balloon the other way. Hopefully this can give me the leverage I need to reach my scarf. The ballon moved from the bottom of the steps up to the middle of the wooden platform and it gave me enough room to run as fast as I could to my scarf.

My hand wrapped around the silk fabric and as I stood I noticed the basket of the balloon coming straight towards me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

The balloon is going to hit me.

That is all I could think about as the balloon came closer. I heard Penelope shouting for me to move, as I shuffled backwards. I tripped over my feet and fell on the ground. I closed my eyes in fear as I waited for the balloon to hit me.

Suddenly I felt someone from behind wrap their arm around my waist to shield me from the upcoming balloon.

[lovebittenbyevans]

Rumors & The Truth

Summary: When Toji put out a statement about you and him, he realized things were about to really change for him personally.

Pairing: F1driver! Toji Fushiguro x friend! Female Reader

Warnings: cursed words, social media au

Author note: I appreciate people who left a comment on this series. Continue AU series Life In The Spotlight. Follow along Mystery Girl. This will be Toji pov and get a glimpse of what he’s feeling in a way. A little bit of reader pov as well. Enjoy reading!

– Comments, Reblogs and Likes are appreciated

Toji knew this would come out sooner or later. He knows everything is brought to the surface eventually. He just wanted to keep this side of you and him hidden way longer.

In his head he is panicking and pissed off at the same time. His publicist Ryan warns him about the paparazzi having a way of making things public and a way of not keeping quiet forever.

He tried calling you a few times but you didn’t pick up. He wanted to do the right thing even though he didn’t want to confirm anything. Toji and you were just friends who like each other company but sometimes fuck each other as well.

“What’s the plan?” Ryan asked, sitting at his desk.

Toji fixed his race suit while adjusting it a little. “You tell me.” He mocked him. “I am not going to put out a bullshit statement when you know I see Y/N only as a friend.”

Ryan sighs as he scratches the back of his neck. “Just be honest. I would never tell you to lie.” Toji pulled out the chair and sat down. “You do know her life is about to change right?” Ryan wanted to make sure that Toji knows what is about to happen.

He continues. “The amount of time the press sees you with different girls every week is different from you and y/n.”

Toji nods. “Mhm.” A part of him was hoping this day would never come. His whole career was about his new talk about him with you.

He leaned back in the chair when he heard his phone buzzing on Ryan's desk. He immediately picked up his phone and saw your name on the screen.

Thank fucking god

He pressed the green button to answer and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Is it an emergency?” You spoke through the phone.

Toji clears his throat. “I have to put out a–” He pauses for a second, turning off his British accent. “The statement I am about to post is going to be about us. Is that alright?” He sounded more American.

He really needs to stop picking up the British accent since he's been living in London for three years now even though he sometimes doesn’t pay enough attention when he talks.

“What else is new, T? Do whatever it is.” At the end of the line all he heard was a beeping sound. He couldn’t blame you for hanging up on him. He deserves it.

He sighs. “She gave me the go ahead.” He pressed one of his social media apps on his phone.

“So, what are you going to say exactly?” Ryan leaned forward with a smirk on his face.

He was loving this to begin with.

Toji rubs his chin trying to figure out what to actually say without making y/n look humiliated. “Something along the lines of us being friends.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “I told you people might not believe that. They are already believing you and y/n are a couple.”

Toji rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. “For fuck stake Ry.” He knew his publicist was right. In his mind he didn’t want to screw up at all. He doesn't want to lose you as a friend either.

“I’m just saying just speak from your heart and be honest this time.” He shrugged. “And hurry up because you have a race to do.” Ryan got up from his chair and squeezed Toji's shoulder before he walked out his office door.

Toji sat there with his phone in hand already had in his mind what picture he wanted to post with a caption knowing you mean so much to him in a way.

tojifushiguro I have known y/nusername for years and we have built an amazing friendship over the years. She got my back. I have hers. She is my go to in this friendship whenever I need her to just hangout or just have a good conversation with. She will always be my best friend that I can count on. I will be always be there for her as well.

After hitting the post button on his phone screen, he noticed his instagram notifications started going crazy. He shut his phone off and gave his phone to his assistant.

“I think you did the right thing.” Victoria told him.

He got up from the chair and ran his hand through his hair. “Well, whoever doesn't like the truth can shove it up their ass.” He walked out the door going straight to his team garage.

Toji realized this was just the beginning of press being in his personal life more then before

[snakebites-and-ink]

Aquarius - Arrival

Characters are named and gendered but literally everything else is generic asjhfsd

CW: Conditioned whumpee, (temporarily) oblivious caretakers

Naia started heading back to base after getting out of a one-on-one meeting with a higher-up. Apparently one of the other branches in their organization had recently been shut down. It was a mess—but not her mess, thankfully. Most of the branches were fairly independent and separate, so hers could just do their own thing while the more central powers dealt with this.

However, they also had several people who’d been victims in this issue—people who might require a lot of care. The investigation into the full details was still ongoing, Naia’d been told, but the organization’s core wasn’t certain whether they alone could sufficiently care for all the victims’ issues while also dealing with the rest of the disastrous case. That was where she came in, and what the meeting was for. They were looking for teams that were willing and able to take in one of these people for the time being, at least until the worst of it had been sorted out. It was on a volunteer basis, so if she needed to Naia could refuse without any other consequences than a weight on her conscience.

She said she’d get back to them. If it were just her affected she’d have said yes right away, but she had other people to think about. Making changes without running them by the team wasn’t her style. She’d check with them, and agree if they were okay with it; they weren’t very busy currently and easily had the time and resources for one more person.

Now she had to talk to her team about it. She figured they’d all want to help; they were a good lot.

Naia called a team meeting the next day for that very purpose. She briefly explained the situation as she understood it. “I told them I had to consider it. It’s not required, so I’ll only accept if it’s okay with you guys. But if it is, I think we would be a good team to take one in.”

“What exactly are they victims of?” 

“I don't know. I've heard rumors of human experimentation and involuntary recruitment, but all I've had confirmed for certain is that they got shut down for ethics violations.”

“I’m down for it,” one team member said. Several other agreements sounded from around the room. No one was against it.

This was why Naia loved her team. They were good people. “Alright. I’ll tell them we’ll take one.”

They were expecting someone traumatized. Maybe someone who lashed out. Maybe someone who fell apart at the slightest issue. Maybe someone too terrified to function. 

They weren't expecting someone so…calm. 

The man they received from the organization seemed collected and unharmed, as far as a surface-level inspection could show. He seemed to respond normally to questions and directions, with a level-headedness that suggested the rumors of horrors in the terminated branch were unfounded. He was very polite, if a little withdrawn.

“Just one more thing, and then we’ll get you settled in your new living quarters.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Naia covered the last question she needed to, then called another team member over.

“Alright, let’s get you settled. Ariel, will you show him to his room?”

Ariel took their new guest to the quarters the team had gotten ready for him. They showed him around it, pointing out all the amenities they’d prepared for him to use so he wouldn’t have trouble finding anything he needed. They told him if he needed anything else he could just ask anyone, but ideally Naia since she was the one in charge. He was polite and attentive the whole time, and they never needed to repeat themself.

“Alright, is there anything else you need now?” When he answered in the negative, they responded, “’kay. Naia will probably check on you soon, go ahead and get settled in in the meantime. And see if you think of anything else you’ll need, we wouldn’t want you to go without.”

There seemed to be no problems, so they left him to settle in in private.

Once she was finished with the paperwork and official business regarding receiving him, Naia went to check on the new guest. She knocked and stepped inside the room. “Hey, you doing all right? Got settled in and everything?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Is there anything you need that we haven’t gotten for you yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay. If anything comes up, let me know. Or anyone else on the team if I’m not available.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great.” In all the hustle and bustle of getting things arranged and doing the official work, Naia hadn’t gotten to know the newcomer at all or even learned his name. Time to rectify that. “What’s your name?”

“AHW-28515.”

“I mean your real name, not what the other branch designated you in their records.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am.”

Oh dear. There was a lot more at play than simple politeness. She double-checked to make sure she was interpreting this right. “You mean you don’t have a normal name, like a—human name?”

“No ma’am. I am 28515.”

This was not a good sign. She and the team were going to have to reassess some assumptions they’d made when they first brought him in. “Okay. Well is there anything else I can call you?” There was no way she was going to dehumanize him like that and call him a number.

“My call sign is Aquarius.”

“Aquarius? Why, are you a January birthday or something?”

“I don't understand the question, ma'am.”

Right. Of course those people who did this to him wouldn't celebrate his birthday. 

“Sorry. Nevermind that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I like Aquarius.” She liked it better than a number, anyways. “Is it okay if I call you that instead?”

“You can call me whatever you like, ma'am.”

She worried he would say that even if he hated what she was calling him. It’s not like she had many options, though, she wasn’t a mind-reader. “Alright. I’ll call you Aquarius for now, but there’s something else you’d like to be called, tell me, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The “ma’am” hit differently now that Naia had a better idea of where the deference was coming from. Still, this much of a better idea might not be enough. She had to really know what she was dealing with if she was going to be able to help him well. “What, exactly, was your role in the group that had you before us?”

There was no hesitation or doubt in his answer. “I’m a weapon.”

[astrolaurical]

Asks Masterlist ♡ ✿ฺ

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～☆ vedic astrology ～☆ pluto transiting 5th ～☆ libra jupiter 5th house child ～☆ learn more about future children with astrology ～☆ is vedic astrology more accurate than western astrology? ～☆ does having a 12th house stellium mean its your last life?

ミ☆ #twin flames

～☆ twin flames communicate through music ～☆ carl jung's anima and animus ～☆ twin flames and parallel lives ～☆ How To Know If We Have Twinflame In The Natal Chart or celebrity twin ～☆ are twin flames superior to soulmates? ～☆ birth charts and twin flames

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ABOUT ME

ミ☆ #life in korea

～☆ engrained misogny in korean men ～☆ sexual assault ～☆ korean bosses and work culture ～☆ korean hard work culture ～☆ korean men and escort culture ～☆ korean apartments

ミ☆ #about me

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OTHER

ミ☆ #jackson wang

～☆ jackson's drinking problem ～☆ jackson pepsi controversy

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