#if you like this i might search for my other ocs (shakes you) although they are mostly doodles in my agendas help

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 16, "Full of Surprises"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party sets up camp with the myconids, resting before doing the Sovereign a favor. They meet the other colony guests—a hobgoblin, a mind flayer, and a sanguine alchemist. Astarion is put in a position to stand up for himself (and Áine has an opportunity to stand up for him as well). Astarion is honest with Áine about his complicated relationship with intimacy and about what spurred their affair in the first place. The pair decide where they’ll go from there.  

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Descriptions (in-depth but not graphic) of Astarion’s sexual trauma; early Araj appearance (we will still probably run into her at Moonrise later); fluff; comfort/hurt; angst; trauma; flashbacks and descriptions of physical anxiety responses and feeling triggered; blood & blood-drinking; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8k

Listening to: Quiet the Monsters - Victoria Carbol

A/N: Just want to quickly say thank you so much for all the comments, feedback, and kind words on Unbound, it helps the headspace a lot and it means the world to my sappy little heart. x

Áine’s heavy rucksack hitting the ground caused a blossom of tiny, glimmering bioluminescent spores to rise in a small puff from the base. The cloud also subsequently caused Áine to sneeze. The bard frowned at the discovery, shaking her head as she rifled through her bag for a health potion, thinking how she’d never live it down if she was half-drow and somehow allergic to the fungal flora of the Underdark.

“That was precious,” Shadowheart remarked on the sound of Áine’s half-muffled sneeze, earning a glower from the bard. “Have what you need to heal up?”

“I should,” Áine said, her fingertips skimming the side of one of the glass bottles she was searching for. She plucked it out and checked it before uncapping it to take a long sip. “I just got knocked around really. I’ll be glad when that burrowing monstrosity stops retreating every time we almost kill it.”

“Indeed,” she sighed, rubbing her hand along her arm as a turquoise glow emitted from her palm. “Between that and the minotaurs, a clan of agreeable mushroom folk was a welcome find. Although I could do without the strange voices that keep projecting into my head.”

“Other than the usual ones, you mean?” Áine teased her, earning an eyeroll. 

The bard glanced across the little foothills they’d stumbled upon, the different levels connected by toadstools as big as trees. It felt like a sort of haven, perhaps because it was the first time since they’d left the Selûnite outpost that she’d felt like she could relax a little. Unless that godsdamned bulette came back, but the myconids seemed to maintain this area firmly for themselves and she hadn’t seen any evidence of the thing disrupting the dirt through their settlement.

“Tell me you didn’t pick up another ‘hero’s quest’ side job from that creature on the roll,” Astarion grumbled as he walked to join them, already exasperated because he knew Áine and of course she’d said they’d help someone else. Yet another useless venture for gnomes this time of all things.

“Astarion,” she murmured, her tone scolding. “It won’t kill us to help her.”

“Well, it might,” Shadowheart posited with a shrug.

“See?” Astarion griped, gesturing toward the cleric. “Someone with sense. Imagine.”

Áine glared between them, her lover and her best friend teamed up against her. Unbelievable. “We’re going that way anyway to cull those slavers for Spaw,” she pointed out. “And it’s not like I take these things on for free. We need the extra coin.” She sighed as she set her bag back down, placing the empty potion bottle next to it. “Especially after I suck it up and stock us back up on supplies.”

“And where do you plan to do that?” Shadowheart asked, glancing around and finding the area just as shopless as she’d first assumed.

Áine nodded toward the side of the settlement where a studious hobgoblin worked over a table. “I’d like to see if he has anything to trade. There was a drow over there too who might be worth speaking to. She looked like she had some alchemy equipment,” she said as she got her coin pouch from her hip and took a tally, mentally preparing herself for inflated Underdark prices.

“You’re going back over there? Where the mind flayer is?” Shadowheart demanded. 

“Sure,” Áine said, shrugging when she met Shadowheart’s skeptical eyes. “They seemed perfectly fine for being a mind flayer. And vegetarian.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Shadowheart sighed. “Just be careful. And here.” She took a handful of coins from her purse and put them in Áine’s palm. “To help with the potion restock.”

“Thanks,” Áine said, looking at a pouting Astarion. “You coming?”

The vampire made a noncommittal grunt in his throat, which she just took to be a yes.

“Can I come?” Karlach piped up nearby. “I’m bored to tears.”

Áine laughed as she led the way from their campsite, ending up with an entourage of Karlach, Wyll, Astarion, and Scratch. She dropped her hand to her side and stroked Scratch’s ears as he trotted alongside her, just pleased to be among his friends. As she drew close, she said, “Erm, Blurg? You wouldn’t happen to have anything you’d want to trade, would you?”

“A curious mind would never refuse to peruse,” the hobgoblin said amenibly. “What are you looking for? And what can you offer?”

“Some basic supplies and medicinal tonics are what we seek,” Áine explained. “To trade we have a bit of gold, some odds and ends, and at least one charming smile.” When he looked at her, she jokingly gestured to Wyll and said, “That’s his specialty.”

Wyll smirked, laughing when Astarion gave a disgruntled huff in Áine’s direction that she ignored. 

“In the way of supplies, I do tend to overstock for myself so I would be happy to trade something of that ilk with you,” he suggested. “Let me have a look at the ‘odds and ends’ and if nothing strikes, gold always sits well.”

Áine got out the items she’d collected for bartering purposes to let him have a look. As he stooped over the array to have a gander, she heard Karlach hiss to get her attention. “‘Ey, soldier,” she said, nodding just down the wall toward the female drow that Áine had seen earlier. “She looks more like the potiony type. Might be worth asking her?”

Wyll pulled a face when he followed Karlach’s gesture. “Hmph, an underelf?” he mumbled.

“Gods’ sakes, Wyll,” Karlach chastised him, making Áine smirk to herself. “You do recall that Áine’s half-drow, right?”

Wyll blushed with the appropriate amount of chagrin. “Right. Sorry, Áine,” he mumbled.

“That’ll be Araj over there,” Blurg said absently as he picked out a couple of things from Áine’s stash and gathered some supply packs to offer for compensation. When Áine agreed to the trade, he pocketed the trinkets and said to Karlach and Wyll, “She would be a good ask for your tonics and elixirs, but she does follow more of a…specialty than most alchemists I’ve met.”

“Hopefully she’s not opposed to half-bloods,” Áine sighed, already readying herself to be condescended to. “Thank you, this helps us a lot.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And good luck with your tadpole dilemma.”

It was refreshing to not be balked at for having a parasite in her brain, which wasn’t a thought or feeling Áine had ever thought she’d experience before her abduction. Karlach and Wyll led the way to Araj’s setup while Astarion fell in step with Áine, lowering his voice to chat with her as he was curious as to what she’d decided to part with. They paused their conversation with murmured “later”s and a sneaky brush of hands when they caught up with Wyll and Karlach, who had just gotten the drow’s attention.

“Ah,” she huffed, looking at Áine with undisguised speculation. “Half-human, I assume?”

Here it comes. “Indeed, but I prefer to go by Áine,” she said dryly. Astarion and Karlach snickered, both trying to hide it at least until they got whatever potions they could get from her. Their efforts only grew more difficult when they made eye contact just to see the other in equal shambles.

“How lovely,” the drow alchemist purred and Áine wasn’t sure if Araj referred to her name or her genetics. Either way, it was preferable to another person telling her that she’d muddied her lineage. “Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul if what I caught of your conversation next door is accurate.” Her garnet eyes slid toward Astarion. “And your pale companion, of course.”

A blood alchemist? she wondered, both intrigued and alarmed. She’d never heard of such a thing. And, it seemed, an Absolutist nut at that. “You know of the Absolute?” Áine asked, playing into the narrative seamlessly. She tried to ignore how Araj took in Astarion like he was on offer with the rest of their wares.

“Who does not, this side of Faerûn?” Araj mused. Based on everyone they’d met, Áine couldn’t disagree with her. “I’d like to offer you my services if you’re willing?”

Áine’s expression turned bewildered. “If I’m willing? What exactly are you offering?”

“As I said, I trade in blood and the potions that can be wrung from it,” the drow said. “I’m more than happy to make one for you…if you’ll honor me with your blood. With one drop, I can brew a potent potion just for you. The rest, I keep for myself.”

“What sort of potion?” Áine asked, considering it more now that she knew the alchemist was only after a drop. Although she did wonder what she’d want with the “rest” she mentioned keeping. Research probably.

“No idea!” Araj exclaimed, enthused by not knowing. “But it will be unique to you—your blood essence and the Absolute’s blessing intertwined. We can learn exactly what that means together.”

“Hmm…,” Áine hummed, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Alright.”

“Just a little prick and it’s all over,” Araj assured her as she reached for Áine’s hand. She created a tiny incision in her fingertip, methodically milking the wound over a vial. 

Áine shifted uncomfortably, flicking her eyes up toward the ceiling to ignore the procedure. It was wild how blood didn’t bother her whatsoever when it was on a battlefield but as soon as it was something as sterile as a medical process, her stomach turned. She’d even gotten used to Astarion drinking her blood somewhat, but just barely. Half the time she had to just pretend he was necking her a little too roughly. She supposed that wasn’t not the case.

Araj took the vial and turned to her tools and glass implements, the gurgling of boiling, steaming liquids amplifying as she started to create a brew. Subconsciously, Áine popped her bleeding finger into her mouth to hasten the clotting, only glancing toward Astarion after she did. He was giving her a withering look that made her smirk around her fingertip. 

“Later,” she mouthed after freeing her digit and Astarion’s annoyed glance faded, satisfied with the compromise.

“And there we are!” Araj proclaimed as she turned around and offered a corked flask to Áine. “All of your best traits in a bottle. Use it well.”

“Thank you,” Áine said, smirking as she added, “I think. Maybe we should wait to see what it does before I thank you.” Araj chuckled and Áine asked further, “Would you have anything pre-brewed that you’d want to sell? I know it’s not your focus, but we’re hoping to restock on some basic stuff for the road.”

She gestured toward a cluster of bottles set aside from her workspace. “I have a hodgepodge of elixirs and potions just over there if you’d like a look,” she suggested. “Some extra stock from my journey. Some of that gold back would be a positive.”

“I’ll take a look, thanks,” Áine said, pocketing her pricked hand so she didn’t touch anything that might infect the little cut before she could clean it back at camp. She stepped over to the cluster of potions, lifting a bottle here and there to check for labels. With her back turned, Araj’s attention drifted again.

Astarion noticed Araj’s hungry stare and his eyes narrowed, glancing fleetingly toward his companions. Áine and Karlach were hunched over the bottles and Wyll stood nearby, staring down the path while lost in thought. Astarion cleared his throat and continued to avoid Araj, but he could feel her eyes on him, rooting him to the spot and peeling him apart. He hated it.

Áine, not seeing a wink of what was happening just over her shoulder, was a little startled when Araj spoke again. And then deeply unsettled by what she said. “Perhaps there is one more thing we could discuss…,” Araj mused, her eyes still hooked into Astarion. “Your friend.”

Astarion’s jaw tightened, his posture rigid. Áine, Karlach, and Wyll all looked over from what they were doing but Áine was the one to speak. “Um… Excuse me?” she asked.

“He’s a vampire, no? One of their spawn at least.” She spat the word like a curse. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion swiftly said, his mask fully up. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” Araj countered. All their eyes had gone a little round at that and Áine’s expression remained bewildered as Araj turned to her. “He belongs to you, I assume?”

Astarion faltered, hiding it well. Suddenly he was little more than a slave again and that old, familiar dread started to creep in. Meanwhile, something in Áine began to unhinge.

Her eyes narrowed, hoping she was just being dense and misunderstanding the woman’s question. “...He belongs to himself. If you have questions for him, you can direct those questions to him,” she said in a hard voice. Astarion’s eyes darted toward Áine’s bristling tone, vulnerability flashing through his eyes faster than light.

Araj gave an amused hum. “I’m sure he really believes that… How utterly adorable.” She slanted her gaze back to Astarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“A-Astarion, but hold on!” Astarion stammered, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Good,” she purred back to him for, as she saw it, following her order. “Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamed of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice creeping a note higher in disbelief, “you want to be bitten?”

Áine was watching the exchange with discomfort. Araj had struck her in odd ways when they’d first spoken, but now she felt genuinely disturbed. And oddly a faint twinge of jealousy. Maybe because most of the times Astarion had bitten her at this point had been mingled with something more intimate or maybe because it would be the first time outside of a quick chomp during a fight that he elected to drink from someone that wasn’t her. 

It was an odd train of thought, so she abandoned it and continued to listen in while she placed a couple of bottles she’d set aside to buy back into the original cluster. She’d scrape up ingredients and make her own healing draughts if Araj was their only option for the stuff.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away?” Araj mused, her tone painting the experience as a sensual one. She’d heard of a vampire’s bite being fetishized but it was something completely different to see it in real time. “To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes. I want it.” 

Infuriating Áine further, Araj turned to speak to her again as if she were Astarion’s keeper. “I’ll even compensate you. Whatever vials you require from that pile plus a potion of legendary power that forever increases the strength of the one who consumes it.” She slid her gaze back to Astarion, who stiffened beneath it. “It’s not for sale. But it’s yours…if you bite me.”

Áine wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do, but it did surprise her a little when Astarion said without a second thought, “I will have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” Araj laughed, incredulous. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” Astarion gritted, something disgustingly close to fear rising in his chest. The compulsion to obey his master. The demand to use his body, his entire being, in bent form to his sire’s will. This wasn’t the same, but he felt its echoes.

Offended and blustering, Araj directed her next words at Áine. “Ugh, can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?!”

Astarion dared a look at his lover. Áine’s eyes were colder than he’d ever seen them as she inhaled a deep, steadying breath and leaned away from the table to face Araj. Her anger was barely contained. “He said no,” she growled.

“How very disappointing,” Araj murmured. “Right. Well, then I suppose gold will—”

“Keep your wares,” the bard muttered, leading Wyll and Karlach back toward Astarion and Araj. His tension eased a bit once they were back in his proximity. “And keep to yourself. Come near him again unbidden and that dealing, you will have with me.”

Araj tsked at Áine. “I’d always heard half-breeds were feral,” she spat.

A dangerous smile crossed Áine’s mouth, her eyes boring into Araj’s. “Would you like to find out for yourself?” she asked, positively saccharine.

Araj’s face flickered with a twinge of fear and she huffed, looking toward Karlach and Wyll. Finding no sympathy on their faces, she muttered a few choice words in elvish and turned away from them, back to her work. Áine had half a mind to teach her a lesson, but she forced her burning gaze away from the alchemist’s back and whistled for Scratch before leading them all back to camp.

Astarion was more than relieved to be away from the drow, his jaw finally unclenching when they were a few paces back down the path. 

“The audacity!” Wyll was exclaiming, absolutely floored by what had just happened. “What a horrible woman!”

“Proud of you for sticking up for yourself, Fangs,” Karlach said, equal parts agitated and fired up in her protectiveness. “That was fucked.”

Astarion found himself relaxing further at Wyll and Karlach’s praise and validation, his gaze lingering on Áine walking just ahead of them with Scratch. Her shoulders were still rigid, proverbial hackles still up, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides. 

He would’ve done it if she’d asked, he realized, even with his autonomy returned. Even if he’d been left to Araj wearing him down, he may have buckled despite how positively fetid the drow’s blood had smelled. He’d had so little opportunity to make his own choices unpunished in this life that the word “no” had felt foreign on his tongue every time he’d said it back there.

Even at the offer of a potion that would’ve arguably been quite useful for their cause, she hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t questioned why he didn’t want to bite the drow. Hadn’t expressed an ounce of disappointment or inconvenience when he’d opted out. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so deadly angry either.

They arrived back to camp and Scratch immediately bounded off to find the owlbear cub, who was sitting next to Halsin with a dopey expression on its young face. They’d become fast friends and it was adorable. It did little to calm Áine’s ire at the moment, but only because the flames were burning so high. 

How dare she?! Suddenly she could empathize with Astarion’s impulse to go back out to the woods and kill Gale after originally deciding not to—not because of anything to do with Gale but because it was taking everything in her not to go back to that table and reduce Araj to resemble her own nasty spread of potion ingredients. Half-breed comments be damned, she wanted to kill her for placing Astarion in even a semblance of one of the situations he’d finally escaped.

Muttering under her breath, Áine slammed the supply packs down next to her rucksack. Methodically, she started to paw through the pack to put back the bits that Blurg had passed on and do some updated inventory. It was necessary and it gave her something to do. The stuff she’d gotten from Blurg seemed good and that would get them through their trip to track down the duergar at least. If they rationed a little more harshly, then—

“Ahem.”

The meek intrusion jarred her from her scattered thoughts, and she looked up over her shoulder, finding Astarion lingering behind her and fiddling with his fingers. “Do you have a moment?” he asked, obviously anxious.

“For you?” she suggested, getting to her feet and brushing off her pants as she turned to face him. “Any moment you’d like.” Had she ever seen him so timid?

“I, uh…,” he began, faltering. His voice was soft and emotionally raw. It did funny things to her heart. “I want to thank you.”

Áine’s brow creased. “For what?”

“For what you said,” Astarion replied, “whilst I was in front of that vile drow. All my years serving under my master, what I felt about what I was doing…it never mattered.” He sighed. “You could’ve asked me to do the same just then. To throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. I likely would have done it, you know.”

Áine frowned. “Astarion, I would never.”

“I know,” he reassured her, his voice gentle. He was silent for a long moment, seeming quietly overwhelmed. “...And I’m grateful.” He made an impatient sound as he waved his sentimentality away and, gesturing, said, “It would’ve been so easy just to bite her! To just go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.”

Áine’s brow crumpled. “Isn’t that what you’ve been hoping to leave behind?” she ventured to ask. “What could possess you to repeat the motions now?”

“Repeat the motions,” he repeated in his head. You’ve no idea how close you are to the truth. The thought made him sullen and panicked for their eventual conversation about just that. 

“Habit perhaps,” Astarion said on a sigh. “It was all I knew for a very, very long time. Even still, amongst, well friends I suppose, it’s difficult not to expect a trap in every question. A punishment for every wrong answer. The illusion of choice. In any case, that made me realize that despite being ‘free,’ I’ve still been living as if I’m not in many ways.”

Áine listened, nodding slowly as she processed his answer. She remembered her first couple of years out in the world on her own. 

Everything had felt like a trap. She’d been utterly paranoid out of her mind. Every too-friendly face she met, she’d met with suspicion. She’d run any time someone got too close to her and veered firmly away from anywhere that could’ve been described as “bustling,” but she’d been terrified when she was completely alone too, a sickly member of a herd to be picked off. 

It had been the worst those first few months, her old strength and left shoulder shattered along with her sense of identity. He was in one piece physically, but he was only about a month or so out from his escape. She couldn’t imagine he’d felt safe a moment since. And in Áine’s experience, she wasn’t so sure he’d truly feel safe for quite some time. Ten years later, she still didn’t.

Astarion watched the understanding soften her features and could only hope that it would carry over into harder topics. Knowing he’d back down if he didn’t, he asked, “May we talk later tonight?”

“Later?” Áine asked, tilting her head. “We can—”

“Later would be best, if that’s alright, my dear,” he suggested, knowing she would offer to have their conversation now. He could see in her face that his request worried her.

Slowly, Áine nodded. “Sure. I guess…just come get me when you’re ready.”

“I will,” he promised and it held none of his usual sensual spin he liked to put on everything. He nodded toward her pricked finger. “How is your hand?”

Áine smirked as it all came around to blood again, extending her hand and raising her fingertip for his inspection. “It’s fine, but I do wish I hadn’t given her a damn thing now,” she said, the edge back in her tone.

Astarion’s eyes flickered down to the small clotted cut on her finger, leaning in closer to examine it and taking her hand in his to bring it to his eye level. Áine smirked, expecting him to reopen it and take a sip—she’d promised after all—possibly with the addition of making it an innuendo. 

However, when she braced for the sting of his fangs as he dropped his mouth to her cut, she was surprised when all he did was kiss it. She saw his craving in the way his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared at the scent, but he didn’t try to partake. 

“Perhaps get a salve on it, darling,” he suggested while Áine still watched him, bemused.

“Sure,” she said, watching him step away with a mix of confusion and affection. He was acting strangely, but she didn’t quite feel as if it were the sort of “strange” he’d be acting if he intended to end things later. 

But, if not that, then what?

Reassuring herself that Astarion’s wasn’t the behavior of someone who was soon to end a relationship sufficed to steady Áine’s nerves through the evening. There was no “breaking up” when they’d never been exclusive, she kept reminding herself. Even if she’d felt exclusive with him the moment she’d realized there was a mutual interest between them, nothing had been spoken into existence. She’d just leaned in too far and fallen. 

She knew how she was with these sorts of things—at the inception of a crush, she was all-in. That wasn’t the norm.

Áine did her damnedest to not let her anxieties creep out in the open, too. As much as this was eating away at her, something had eaten away at Astarion enough for him to ask her specifically for a time that they could speak. There was something on his mind, too. 

Knowing she’d just wear a rut on her tent floor, Áine took up her usual spot near the fire. She was without her lute, but the myconids’ melodies interwoven in the spores around them felt like more than enough of a nightly treat for the ears. She laid back on the dirt, her fingertips tracing faint patterns in the deep earthen soil and her eyes cast toward the black ceiling overhead serving for a sky. She marinated in her thoughts and the interesting flow of the unearthly music in her mind until Astarion’s beautiful face peering over her blessedly cut her overthinking short. 

She smirked up at him and shifted one of her hands behind her head. “Huh. A star in the Underdark,” she mused aloud, making him smile and roll his eyes. “How poetic.”

“Aren’t the romantic advances and suave pickup lines meant to be my job?” Astarion asked as he sat down next to her, his gaze following hers to skim the towering caverns.

“Mm, we can take shifts,” Áine said, nonplussed by his grumbling. Subconsciously, she moved one of her hands over to gently rub his back, but she stopped herself shy of his shirt when she remembered his scars. When she looked at his face, she saw he was already observing her dilemma. “Sorry. Instinct,” she said as she started to tuck her hand back under her head.

“What instinct exactly?” he asked. 

“Uh,” Áine mumbled, suddenly flustered at having to put her silly little notions into words. “I was going to rub your back. Didn’t fully think it through. Unless…that sounds interesting?”

Astarion was amused by something, whether it was her tone or her wording. He thought over her offer before giving her a measured nod. “You may try if you’d like.”

With care, Áine laid her hand against his clothed back, feeling the faint shudder that rippled through him. “As ever, just say the word,” she murmured, her voice and her touch tender as she began stroking his back, beginning with small predictable circles. Her heart broke as she felt the raised lines of his scars through the fabric of his shirt. “True vampire” rules be damned, she’d bleed Cazador on his own palace steps if they ever crossed paths.

He interrupted her ferocious thoughts when he said, “I think the others have all taken to bed… I mentioned it earlier, but I think we need to talk.”

Áine’s hand stilled against the small of his back, almost feeling stupid for having it resting there now. Her throat suddenly dry, she asked, “Is here okay or did you want to go somewhere else?”

Astarion shook his head. He wanted to keep this on neutral ground rather than in one of their tents. Just in case. “No, here is fine.”

Áine’s brow creased, her eyes speculative. “...Are you alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Astarion quickly said. “I just… Well, I feel awful.”

Áine’s chest felt like it was constricting. Here it comes, she chided herself. You got in too deep, as always. Well, actually opposite of always. Regardless, just as much of a fuck-up. She drew a breath and sat up, pulling her knees toward her chest and looking at his profile. “I’m listening?”

Astarion seemed almost scared to look at her, which she couldn’t comprehend. But he still made himself do so, sitting on his knees and turning his entire body toward her. When he met her eyes, she read the precise fear there that she’d anticipated, but she couldn’t imagine the why of it. His attention faltered for a split-second as he studied her face and seemingly without thinking, he mumbled a dumbfounded, “Gods, you’re beautiful…”

He cleared his throat too harshly and coughed against his fist, creating even more confusion in Áine than before along with a bright blush in her cheeks. “Mmf, no, that’s—it’s true but that’s not what I mean to discuss,” he scrambled. He was so uncharacteristically scattered that she may have laughed were she not frightened of whatever he was about to drop on her. 

Astarion found the wherewithal to continue after searching himself for that singular selfless bone left in his body. He couldn’t bear to lose her, but it wasn’t solely his choice in the matter. Not anymore.

“Right. Look. I had…a plan. A nice simple plan. And that plan…well, it’s been my most solid strategy for the past 200 years. Never played for myself, but for Cazador.” As ever, he sneered the name like a curse. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed to darken further as he spoke. “We’ve spoken of the torture, of the compulsion, of the rancid vermin and insect-based diets… There was…much more.

“My ‘duties’ to Cazador entailed bringing him the most beautiful souls I could lure his way from the streets of Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion explained, his eyes far away. “I was meant to do so…with my body. With sweet words and promises and sex. From a tavern corner, from an alleyway, it didn’t matter. What happened to me, what I wanted…none of it mattered. I was a puppet with my orders and I served those souls on silver from the time I could be let off the leash to prowl the city proper. I was told time and time again that my body was all I was good for until I believed it. I still find myself believing it. It’s my only token of trade.

“I may have been free of Cazador from the time the mind flayers snatched me up, but I’ve been realizing that I’m working in the same patterns. Less and less over time, but my survival instincts still default to those old methods. Whatever worked, whatever kept me alive since I wasn’t permitted to die. 

“All that to say, I…needed help. When you found me, I needed protection. And therein hatched the plan,” he drew a sharp, anxious intake of unnecessary breath. Áine sat stone-still and just listened, dread still coating her stomach. 

“My ‘simple’ plan…was to seduce you. Sleep with you. Manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. At least until I didn’t need your help any longer,” Astarion said, a panicked chuckle passing his lips. “It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two centuries of charming people kicked in. All you had to do…was fall for it.” 

His voice cracked as he forced himself to keep looking at her when he wanted to run and bury himself back in the grave. “And all I had to do…was not fall for you. Which I think we both know is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

Astarion’s throat worked as his hands rose from resting against his knees and gestured toward her as if pained. “You… Áine, you are incredible. You deserve something real,” he said, swallowing hard. “I want us to be something real.”

He stopped speaking and Áine knew that he was waiting for her to say something now. She could feel the preemptive tears pooling against her lashes, her nails picking anxiously at her shirt sleeve. She was relieved that it wasn’t over, that she hadn’t done something wrong, but…there was still that sense of betrayal, too. 

The signals she’d gotten from him since that night had been real, she knew that, but before… Well, she’d just been stupid before then, was that what she was to take from this? Shadowheart had been absolutely correct in warning her against his advances at that time and she’d just hopped too-willing and wine-flushed into his lap. And she realized the gutting feeling she was experiencing wasn’t necessarily betrayal or anything to do with him, it was embarrassment at her own actions. It was shame. More than that, she was devastated for him and his past.

Áine drew in a shaky breath and asked slowly, “...So the nights we spent together… They didn’t mean anything?” Gods above, don’t you dare cry now, she chided herself. Her inner voice almost didn’t sound like herself in that moment. You weak little thing, why must you always cry?!

“Of course they did, that’s the point!” he said emphatically, his hands twitching like they ached to take hers. “Or…part of it anyway.” Astarion pushed down a grumble of frustration. “Áine, being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I performed to lure people back for him.” His brows canted upward and she saw the heartache in his eyes unmasked. “Even though I know things are different between us, being with someone still feels…tainted. It still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. Sporadically, most days. Other days, constantly.

“I don’t know how else to be with someone… No matter how much I’d like to,” he confessed. “And I would like to. It terrifies me sometimes how much. But I fear misjudging my own capabilities after being so thoroughly broken and taking us down a path leading to ruin. I fear hurting you in trying to do the opposite. But I want to…if you still do or ever did.” Astarion sighed again and it sounded a mix of morose and relieved. “However, I couldn’t keep this from you any longer, as much as telling you felt like a form of sabotage. It would have been unfair to you for me to keep this up.”

Áine’s musings to Shadowheart that night at the party bubbled up in her memory. Of fretting over a similar yet completely different fear. That she would ruin what was between them before it ever began. And now here he was, fretting he’d ruin what they had after it had begun but before it truly blossomed. They were quite a pair.

The bard leveled her gaze at him, unable to help the tears that she tried to manage by swiping her sleeve against her face. “I care about you,” she murmured, the tension in her throat coming through in her tone. “Deeply. But you know that.”

Astarion frowned. He did know that. Firsthand thanks to the tadpole. And in every gesture, every compliment, and every kind touch she’d graced him with, romantic and platonic both. “I do.”

“What do you want?” Áine asked him point blank, sniffling a little as she tried to get her weepiness under control. 

The question, as ever, took him off guard. “I…,” he hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.” Astarion’s resolve seemed to renew in the square of his shoulders and the intensity in his gaze as he said, “I—I want to try. With you. If you’ll have me after all this, that is.”

Áine tilted her head a touch. “Astarion, if this is too much for where you’re at right now, I’ve told you before that those ‘friend-based feelings’ exist,” she said. “They’ve been well and truly archived, but I could dig them back out. I hate the idea of worsening the things you’re feeling because you mean to appease me with this.”

“Darling, I don’t mean to appease you. Or at least that’s not my sole reasoning,” he said, his rebuke gentle. “I’ve meant all I’ve said. I want us to be something real. If you can forgive me.” Something crossed his mind then. “Most of my unpleasant reactions arise when it comes to sex specifically. What we’ve done otherwise, I never needed or felt compelled to do before. That’s all new to me. And it’s wonderful.”

Áine nodded slowly, thinking. “So it would be helpful to you if we didn’t for a while? Have sex, I mean.”

Astarion pulled a face. “That seems a poor bargain for you, doesn’t it?”

“Not if it’s not for you,” Áine answered in kind.

“I think I just don’t want you to think of me in terms of sex. I don’t know if I want anyone to,” he admitted, giving a frustrated tsk at his own verbiage. “I don’t quite know what I’m saying anymore, I don’t know how I can expect you to understand if I—”

“No, I…,” Áine murmured, “I get it. More than you might expect.” She held his gaze, searching and vulnerable. “You’re more to me than your body, Astarion. You always have been. And if you don’t want to, then we won’t.”

Astarion looked a mixture of guilty and unsure. “I want to be clear that I do find you unbearably attractive,” he murmured. “And that every time that we have slept together thus far, I’ve wanted to. Even the first time got swept into an emotional affair for me as soon as it started. I just tried to deny it. Clearly, that didn’t work.” He chuckled. “But I do feel awful when those memories resurface while we’re together. So…as tough as it may be to abstain…”

Áine nodded in agreement. “It sounds like perhaps you need some time. And that’s okay. Have as long as you’d like.”

“Does that mean then that you’ll stay with me?” he ventured to ask, hope laying bare in his eyes. “Despite everything I’ve put you through? Everything I’m unsure I can give you?”

“The original intention set aside, you’ve not put me through much of anything,” she pointed out. “The rest unfolds with time if we let it. Believe me when I say that the pause on sex doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been strange in that way. At least it’s finally working to someone’s benefit.”

“Strange?” he repeated. “In what sense?”

Áine shrugged and it was her turn to be embarrassed again. “Most people seem to want more in that regard than I ever have. I’ve spent years trying to understand it, but it’s just how I’m wired,” she explained, her gaze falling to her kneecaps. “I only want to do those sorts of things with someone I care for. I don’t really experience attraction otherwise. Things like one-night stands or romps with strangers have never appealed to me. So, at least in comparison to everyone else I’ve ever met, I’m a bit strange.”

Astarion measured her response. It added more context to his understanding of how she liked to navigate her relationships at least—he’d thought she was just one for long-term love interests in a general sense, but she couldn’t feel attraction unless she was invested, it seemed. And now knowing that her “yes” that night at the party had also meant she already cared for him so much… 

“I see,” he said, pensive as he looked her over and noted the way her eyes timidly shifted away from being studied. “I may not have always felt that way, but at least now, after everything… I find that relatable.”

She offered him a faint smile. “You’d be the first.”

Astarion inched forward, cautiously reaching out and taking one of her hands. He looked at her to ensure that he wasn’t doing anything out of turn, reassured as she squeezed his hand. “Honestly,” he murmured, an almost giddy smile touching his lips, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He smoothed his thumb against her knuckles, his other hand coming to stroke along the veins lining the back of her hand. “But this? This is nice.”

Áine’s features softened. “It is.” She sighed and gestured toward herself with her free hand. “Come here, you sweet man,” she mumbled, pulling him into her lap when he shimmied forward, starved for affection but not sure what she wanted him to do.

Astarion laughed, wary of letting his full weight rest against her. “I’ll crush you, you cheeky little pup,” he mumbled, but ultimately relaxed and let his cheek rest against the top of her head. He was infinitely grateful for the comfort of her arms around him. She still wanted him. He could hardly fathom it.

“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered in response to his fretting, gratified when he leaned into her and nuzzled her hair. It almost brought tears to her eyes again how adorable he could be when it was just them. He’d already come such a long way in opening up around her and she only wished that it would continue, more for his sake than hers. She just felt honored to witness it. “I’m pretty sturdy still, even if I’ve been out of rank for a while.”

“No doubt,” he murmured against her crown. “But could you take a vampire? Now that, my darling, is the most interesting question.”

Áine tilted her head back to peer up at him, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. “Spar with me some time and find out. Just for fun.”

Astarion snorted softly and dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Deal.” 

It still sent him reeling that he could engage in physical affection, in touch, without it needing to be sexual. It was intimate yet not carnal. When what held him back or sent him into quiet dissociation wasn’t a years-old trigger or that familiar bile of self-loathing, he sometimes found himself holding back because he defaulted to sex as a means to express all degrees of affection and wanting. He didn’t want to “default” to anything with her—he needed to form new inclinations like seeking a handhold (which he was getting better at) or a hug.

Astarion briefly remembered telling Karlach just weeks ago that he wasn’t a hugger and scoffed softly at his foolishness. Perhaps he wasn’t with anyone but Áine, but at least in that regard, so far he was. As if to prove it to himself or practice new motions, he raised his arms from his lap and looped them around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her arms tightened around his waist, one of her hands tracing up and down his side. 

In his euphoria, he felt some startling words start to bubble up from his heart, but he stalled them before they could tumble out. Red eyes widened and, out of her view, Astarion found himself reeling all over again with new things to fret over. Gods, she truly has been sent to ruin me.

“I would stay like this all night,” Áine said, jarring him from his panic, “but I don’t think my back would ever recover if we did.” Her features grew serious as she pulled back to look at him. “Thank you, by the way. For trusting me. Again.”

Awkwardly, Astarion inclined his head, his mouth opening and closing like he’d considered something to say and thought better of it. Áine took his silence with grace—it was hard to open up. He huffed a sigh and surprised her when he said, “Well, thank you. For… Well. Everything.” Astarion met her eyes, his expression a bit more dreamy. “You’re…well, you’re full of surprises. Aren’t you.”

It wasn’t particularly a question and it made Áine’s blush return. They sat like that a while longer until it was clear that Áine wasn’t long for this conscious world and Astarion finally moved and let her up. She was brushing herself off when she glanced up and found Astarion hesitating near his tent, looking like he wanted to say something again. She took a glance around and guessed at what ailed him, asking, “Do you…want to cohabitate tonight?”

“I do,” Astarion said, combing a nervous hand through his curls. “But just…that. I’m sorry, I just…think we’re correct in taking a break from sex.” He sighed, his brow furrowed in pained frustration as he looked at the ground. “I’ve made this far more difficult than it should be.”

“You haven’t,” Áine assured him gently. “Even if we weren’t holding off, it’s not like that’s something we have to do every night anyway.” He peeked at her, looking unsure. “Just get comfortable, I’m going to grab a couple of things and I’ll be in. Alright?”

Astarion nodded and cleared his throat before he ducked into his tent. He hardly knew how this was helpful, he was just finding new ways to hate himself by putting her through this. No matter what she said, the guilt still hung over him, thick and suffocating. How long until she realized he wasn’t all she seemed to think? How long until she saw the full extent of the baggage he brought with him everywhere he went?

Áine didn’t take long to return to his side and he looked up to see her toting a few of the plush pillows from her tent and her blanket. He smirked at her, but the expression didn’t touch his eyes, and he could only be glad that her darkvision didn’t seem to be as good as his. 

“Moving in?” he teased her as she set down the pillows and arranged them to accommodate them both.

“Problem?” she countered, collapsing on her work when she was satisfied.

“I suppose not,” he allowed. In reality, his dead heart was full to bursting.

“Good,” Áine remarked through a yawn as she got comfortable. She’d staked her spot confidently, but in truth, she’d worried about overstepping. His teasing put her somewhat at ease, but she still wasn’t sure what he was comfortable with. They were firmly back to testing the waters, which was always unnerving, but she didn’t mind because it was him.

They were silent for a while after Astarion laid down next to her and Áine was sure he’d gone into reverie until she heard him tentatively say her name. “Yes?” she asked, her immediate worry apparent in her voice.

“I…,” Astarion began and then retreated. “Hm, nevermind, darling, I’m sorry.”

Her brow furrowed. “Um… You sure?” she asked.

Another long pause. Astarion cleared his throat and murmured, “Would it be alright if… If I held you again? The way we did the other night?” 

Áine smiled, blinking back tears as she turned on her side to reach out and pull him close. They adjusted around each other until they were in a perfect tangle again. This time, however, because Áine sensed perhaps he was the one needing to be held, she gathered him into her arms and kissed his forehead. He rested his head against her chest and felt something close to peace as he listened to her heart.

Gods above, she’d broken him. He considered that with some measure of horror as he felt tears well up in his eyes, tears he buried against her chest and in the crook of her neck. Her warmth and her pulse sang to him like her evening serenades and he sank into her with all the reverence of a prayer. 

He was almost startled when she spoke again, pausing in tracing his little patterns against her back. “You can still drink from me tonight if you want to,” she mumbled, sounding utterly content and almost half-asleep.

Astarion’s brows rose. “I can?” he replied, giving an embarrassed cough to belatedly cover how shocked he sounded. “I mean, I… I just thought…” I’m not holding my end of our bargain anymore, he finished in his mind alone, not sure how to speak the words. How is this possibly fair to you?

As if reading his mind, Áine laughed softly and kissed his hair as her fingertips traced against the nape of his neck and the finer hairs there. “Nothing about this has ever been transactional, darling,” she murmured and he noticed that she didn’t put her usual spin of mimicking his drawl on the endearment. Perhaps she was too tired, but it sent a little thrill through him nonetheless. “And it certainly isn’t going to start being transactional now.”

A sigh eased from his chest. He considered thanking her but thought better of adding yet another one to the pile of the night, wary of those words of gratitude growing overused. Instead, he kissed across her neck before he bit down across his old marks, his eyes rolling back and his snowy lashes fluttering in ecstasy as her essence wept past his lips.

He was careful to stop well before he would’ve even caused her to feel lightheaded, but after licking the wounds closed, he drew back just to make sure she was okay…only to find her sound asleep. 

Bleeding Hells, I refuse to start crying again, he swore inwardly, raising his fingertips to gently trace her features. To trust him enough to doze off while he was fangs-deep in her was…

…well it felt hardly deserved, but he’d never before felt such a tender ache in his chest.

Next chapter: Chapter 17, "Get Up"

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 7: Escape

“What exactly did he put into the water system?” I ask Montoya as she shifts through paper files.

I’m currently waiting in Crane’s former office (that feels so good to hear!) while the detective is looking for my records.

“We’re not sure. Batman’s going to run some tests-”

“Batman?” My head perks up.

“Yes. He’s the one who found out about Crane’s operation. Some say he’s overstepping his boundaries and doing our work for us. Personally I think he’s a concerned citizen who’s trying to help clean out Gotham.”

Could this new vigilante be the answer? For weeks I’ve been waiting for justice to strike. If this Batman character causes the mob to get shaky then surely the rest of the scum in Gotham won’t dare to stand out anymore.

Another 20 minutes of searching goes by and I hear Montoya sigh.

“I’m sorry Dr. Prentiss but there’s complications with some of the paperwork. Your file’s not on record here.”

My mind does a flip-flop. “But that’s good, right? That should mean I’m not an inmate here.”

“Sadly that’s not the case now. A law just passed stating that any prisoner found without proper records is to be kept on lockdown until ID is recognized.”

“B-But I do have an ID! Just call my boss back in Metropolis, please!” I’m starting to shake. Whether it be from nerves or anger is unclear. “I am not insane!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to remain here for the next week or so.” Montoya says calmly and walks out of the office, locking me inside my twisted psychiatrist’s lair.

That’s it, then. 10 years spent studying psychology and I wind up in a nuthouse as a patient forever.

Time truly is relative, because the clock shows I’ve only been in here for one hour but to me it feels like an entire day. Crane’s chosen decor of past MRI scans and ink blot tests don’t do any help to calm my spasming thoughts. When the sound of jingling keys rings through the air I almost think I’m imagining it.

“Not to fret, Dr. Prentiss,” Baxton taunts smugly and cuffs my limp hands, tugging me up and pushing me down the familiar beige hall. “You can consult your complaints with your new inmate Dr. Crane.”

Sounds peachy-keen.

Baxton stops in front of a cell and unlocks the door to shove me inside. This cell is similar to my old one except it’s more padded and instead of a bed there’s a single chair. One that is occupied by none other than Dr. Jonathan Crane, who’s wrapped tightly in a full body straightjacket. Just as before his eyes are wide and keep staring into an invisible abyss.

“What happened?” I ask the guard.

“The Batman sprayed him with an unknown gas. We think it’s a hallucinogen.”

I know exactly what kind of gas he used. Crane finally got a taste of his own medicine. Literally. Once Baxton walks off I casually strut up and kneel down to be at eye level with the crazed doctor.

“Well well well. Got what’s coming to you, Dr. Crane.”

If there’s any part of him that’s somewhat sane he does little to acknowledge he sees me. “Scarecrow…” He mumbles.

“Oh, excuse me,” I apologize sarcastically. “Scarecrow. How does it feel to have your brain turned inside out?”

“It’s… dark. Very dark…” He whispers, eyes flitting all over my face as if I’m about to attack him.

“Poor Johnny, all tied up. Who’s laughing now, hm?” I rest my chin on my fists and continue to stare as he breaks down further. “How long is the medicine supposed to last? If it was anything like what you gave me then it shouldn’t be but a few hours. Although from what I see here it looks like Batman gave you a stronger dose.”

At the mention of Batman Crane’s eyes get wider and he starts shaking. “Scarecrow…”

There’s no use trying to reach him. I remember back during the first few days of my experiments that it can take days to filter out what’s real and what’s fantasy. If Crane weren’t such an emotionless pain I might actually feel sorry for him.

What to do now… Since Crane’s the one who’s kept me locked in Arkham then maybe I can get some leverage to escape. 

“Knock knock.”

I look up at the new voice and see we have company. A group of 3 inmates has gathered outside our cell and the leader is twirling a familiar set of keys.

“Did Baxton take the evening off?” I peer suggestively at the keys.

“Let’s just say it’s time for our own therapy appointment with Dr. Crane,” the lanky man with the keys says darkly. He’s the very definition of an Arkham patient. Crazed eyes and a shaved head.

Adrenaline surges through me and my reflexes kick on. I step in front of Crane to block him from the inmates’ view. The only thing separating him from being pummeled is me and the cell door- which the inmate leader is now unlocking.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, toots,” a taller brute says.

Hm. I suppose Crane does deserve a good talking to. Maybe some criticism is just what the doctor ordered-

Thud!

The bigger inmate’s fist collides with Crane’s jaw and he goes limp. This triggers the other two inmates to join in.

Oh no. My first prison riot. 

“Wait- Oh God!” I grab a hold of one’s jumpsuit and try to tear him away. “What are you doing? Stop! You’re hurting him!”

“Since when do you have sympathy for this freak?” The smallest one seethes. “He tested on all of us!”

“You of all people should know he needs to pay for it!” The leader jabs at me. “We heard he’d drug you up every single day. He must be punished!”

“But not like this! This isn’t justice-!”

Bang! Bang!

The sound of a baton lifts my hopes. Baxton’s back! Maybe he finally came to his senses-

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He grabs my ponytail and yanks me into the hallway. I try to pull away but Baxton grabs me from behind and drags me further away.

“But you can’t just-!”

Slap!

A sharp pain stings my cheek from where Baxton slapped me. “Let’s go. Now!”

I’m shoved into an empty cell and he stands in the doorway with a sinister grin.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

My eyes narrow. Where are the other guards? Can’t they see what’s happening? They should call the police! This is against all protocol!  “You can’t ignore a prison riot! This is anarchy!”

Baxton shrugs. “Gotham is anarchy, princess.”

My eyes flash in an angry sneer and I clutch the brute’s shoulders to give his privates a stiff blow. He crumples to the ground and cries out in agony, too stunned in pain to form words.

I lean down and get in his face. “It’s Prentiss!” I hiss.

Quickly I snatch the gun from his holster and rush back towards Crane’s cell. Inside I find the doctor barely conscious and the three inmates glaring down at his beaten face. I hope this works.

Bang!

 I fire a warning shot into the ceiling and everyone jumps to look at me.

“Stand down. Now!” I speak firmly but still maintain the persona of a therapist. “Take a deep breath and go back to your cells.”

The tallest one looks apprehensive but the others simply shrug and stride out. “Our work is done here.”

Yes. Their work has left the fear doctor in rough shape. A black eye is starting to spread onto Dr. Crane’s left eye and there’s a bad cut on his lip. And those are just the visible injuries. Lord knows what they’ve done to his internal organs.

“You’re coming with me.”

I unlock the chair he’s strapped in and wheel him down to his office. With his assistance and a little luck I can find what I’m looking for.

“Where’s the antidote?” I speak directly to him.

There must still be part of his sane self left because his eyes dart to look at a painting of Sigmund Freud. I step closer to feel around the frame’s edge and find a handle. Giving it a firm tug, the picture swings away on a hinge to reveal a hidden cupboard. Inside there’s an arrangement of test tubes and vials, each labeled with Crane’s scribbled writing. How do I know which one to use?

“Crane, which one is it?” I point to the cupboard.

The dazed doctor lifts his head up. The only response I get is a small hum. I guess I just have to pick one and hope for the best.

One vial in the front has the freshest writing, which leads me to believe it’s Crane’s most recent antidote. That’s my best shot. But how is it administered? Batman sprayed Crane with a gas, while I’ve only been injected with serums. Is the antidote supposed to be inhaled or injected?

“Scarecrow!”

Jesus! Crane’s sudden outburst makes me jump. His condition is deteriorating. It’s now or never.

“This is going to hurt,” I explain in a doctor-patient manner as I dig out a syringe from the desk and sterilize it. Now I just need to figure out how to get his arm exposed without Crane going ballistic. He’s starting to shake and break out in a sweat. “Just… try to hold still.”

I pick up a scalpel and slice a hole in the straightjacket. Crane sees this and shakes even harder. I need to be quick. 

“One, two, three.”

“Ah!” 

Crane winces when the needle pricks his pale skin. How long am I supposed to wait? What if there are side effects? Any allergic reactions? My on-a-whim thinking is starting to make me double-guess if this was the best option-

“What happened?”

Crane’s normal voice strangely seems to calm my nerves. I used to shiver at the sound of it but now instead of him being a creep it means he might be back to normal. His eyes aren’t as feral and he’s stopped shaking, looking around the room as if just awakened from a deep sleep. He takes one look at me and then notices the jacket he’s wrapped in.

Crane quirks an eyebrow. “Care to explain, Dr. Prentiss?”

I set the used syringe down and take a deep breath. “Batman sprayed you with a toxin. You’ve been in a deranged state for the past 72 hours. I’m the only one who thought to look for the antidote.”

“Hm. And care to explain why my face feels like I collided with a brick wall?”

Oh. Right.

“Some inmates chose to administer self-justice and nearly snapped you in two. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them in time but I was being detained at the moment.”

Crane nods, still with a peculiar look. “How did you escape your cell?”

“Persuasion.”

“Sexual favors?”

I smirk. “You could say that. I kneed the guard in the crotch and persuaded him to let me escape.” I walk closer and kneel down to look at him with almost taunting eyes. “What was your plan, Crane? Before it all went south?”

The doctor’s brow furrows in confusion. “Gordon was in here asking me the same thing. Why should I tell you?”

“You have nothing to lose.”

“Are you going to knee me in the crotch too?”

I huff. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No. I’m asking nicely.” Since he’s being resistant to the person who just gave him his sanity back I see no reason to help him anymore. My conscience is clear. “If you’re not worth my time I’m going to leave this God-forsaken place without you.”

Dr. Crane still has the same befuddled look as I stand up to leave. “I’m the one who tortured you. Why come back for me?”

I shake my head and turn to look at him with new-found sincerity. “You didn’t torture me. You helped me grieve.”

Something flashes in Crane’s eyes. Something I’ve never seen before- But in a split second it’s gone again and it’s back to his cold, calculating stare.

“You’re going to escape?”

“Yes.”

Crane tosses his head back and forth, seeming to decide his options. “If you release me I can get you out. Sadly I don’t think the staff is going to let me just waltz out of here after my… episode. Between that and your record of defying corrupted judges we’ll both have to go off the grid.”

“Agreed. I say we make a deal to get each other out. Then as soon as we’re past Arkham’s gates we go our separate ways.” I clap my hands together and walk closer. “Now that you’re your usual twisted self again am I right to assume it’s safe to remove the jacket?”

Screee! Screee!

Ow! A new alarm blares throughout the PA system. I have to cover my ears to block the painful noise. Unfortunately Crane has no use of his limbs.

“Prison break!” I try to yell over the sound. 

I walk back to the doorframe to get a better look outside. Baxton better not be- Oh my God.

“Crane… Arkham’s not that old, right? Please tell me there isn’t a button that releases all inmates at once?”

A few seconds go by and then Crane yells back: “Yes. There is.”

“Uh-huh. Now my next question: how easy is it to access that button?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because someone pressed it.”

It’s complete chaos. A human zoo. Dozens of inmates are sprinting up and down the hall, ranting and raving in every form of insanity possible. From what little I’ve seen so far there’s already been multiple fractures and abrasions. There’s no telling what damage they will do once they get ahold of weapons.

Uh-oh.

A tall man in dark clothing steps towards me. He is no inmate, yet his vicious gaze is enough to earn him a cell here just as much as the others. He pays no attention to me as I step out of his way and he tosses a familiar burlap mask onto Crane’s lap.

“Time to play.”

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

I'll Be There

I thought I'd try my hand at writing my own OC in an attempt to grasp his character better. So far he's been trying to resist the urge to kill everything on sight but sometimes, especially when he's in stealth mode, he really wonders what would happen if he shot someone. And since he secretly craves physical contact he just wanted to hold hands with Gale but Gale took it the wrong way.

Summary: Astarion and Hayate (my male ranger fire dragonborn durge oc) learn to open up to each other.

Deep breath in, draw the bowstring back, hold it steady. Eye on the target, slowly exhale. Release.

His arrow finds its mark again, piercing through the gullet of the paladin leader and his cloak turns him invisible, its familiar tendrils coiling around him. His footsteps are soft and quick, gliding over the dirt with practised ease as he positions himself in the perfect spot. He lifts the longbow once more, battle calm washing over him and slots an arrow through another paladin’s gullet.

Without batting an eye at the blood that colours the ground crimson, he changes position once more. He doesn’t need to think anymore when hunting his prey, every movement has become muscle memory, ingrained in him for a reason that is out of his reach. He hates the haze that clouds his memories, hates the black that blots out the moments he tears into innocents, hates the euphoria that bubbles within his chest when blood spills all over a shocked face, but something about the thought of choosing who and what to slaughter sends thrills up his spine.

So he chases the feeling, hoping it will bring him closer to uncovering his memories despite the bile rising in his throat each time he looks at his bloodstained hands. How much blood has he spilled? How many innocents has he torn apart with his claws? How deep is the blood he is swimming in?

More importantly, what other vile acts has he committed?

The creature that claims to be his butler has dropped hints that he has committed the vilest of acts, but for what reason the butler refuses to elaborate. Something about being unable to interfere with his business or something, leaving him with an unscratchable itch in his mind.

“Hayate.” A quiet whisper snaps him out of his thoughts before they can drown him. Astarion. Of course the vampire would know where he was, invisibility couldn’t hide the smell of his blood. The vampire spawn shoots him a look of what seems like concern but he can’t quite place an emotion on the look before the vampire sneaks off to kill the trader before she can escape.

With a shake of his head, he pushes the thoughts out of his mind. A familiar yet unfamiliar voice echoes in his head, warning him against being distracted during a fight before disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared. Yet another mystery to solve, he thinks as he surveys the battlefield. A small part of him wants the memories to never be recovered, amnesia has been a good excuse for the atrocities he’s committed so far and something within him quivers in fear thinking about the need to take responsibility for all his actions.

Looking at his companions, he wonders if they will accept him for who he is when they find his missing memories with him. He watches from the sidelines as Gale heaves a sigh of relief once the battle ends as no one has died this time, Astarion rummages through the dead bodies for loot and Shadowheart scouts the area for any potential threats they might have missed.

“Are you alright Hayate? You seem out of sorts,” Gale taps him on the shoulder, startling the dragonborn who bares his teeth out of instinct. The wizard raises his hands in surrender and takes a step back, apologising.

“It’s alright, I’m the one who should be sorry for startling you,” Hayate shakes his head. “I’m feeling fine, how are you?”

“I’m quite alright, although I am concerned about you. I saw you space out in the middle of a fight,” Gale rightly points out, brown eyes searching the dragonborn’s heterochromatic gaze for hints of what is going on in his head.

“It’s nothing,” Hayate frowns, eyes narrowing. “We ought to sort through the loot before Astarion makes off with another enchanted dagger without any of us knowing again.”

The dragonborn forces a smile, hoping it will reassure the wizard and breathes out a small sigh of relief when said wizard nods and heads towards the bodies just as Astarion sneaks something into his pocket. A small squabble ensues but Hayate pays it no mind, he knows the two will sort it out by themselves with little to no bloodshed. If anything, it provides a spot of entertainment after the exhausting fight.

“Something is bothering you.” A female voice sounds from behind him. Hayate stops himself before he can let out a groan of annoyance and smiles through his teeth at Shadowheart.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” He really doesn’t feel like talking about his dark thoughts, it isn’t a pleasant topic in the first place and the urges already circle in his mind all the time, he doesn’t need them brought to the surface. Needing to talk about the tadpole wriggling in his brain is already exhausting enough, he would rather not add on to the number of issues he has shared about.

Shadowheart frowns at him but doesn’t press the matter further. She knows what it’s like to not want to share personal matters and it’s not her place to dig further. Astarion on the other hand, may be the only one who can reach the dragonborn. The two had become quite close ever since Astarion had revealed himself to be a vampire spawn, with Hayate going as far as to offer his blood every night to keep the vampire satiated and happy.

Then again Shadowheart wasn’t that surprised by how quickly they had bonded. Both enjoyed some bloodshed here and there, took delight in putting a surprise arrow through their enemies’ necks and had a knack for pickpocketing.

She makes her way towards the vampire and gestures at Hayate. Astarion raises an eyebrow at her, “so it’s my job now to poke my nose into our darling leader’s business?”

“You’re the one he talks the most to.”

“Have you ever considered it’s because I don’t glare at him all the time?” Astarion huffs dramatically but a flash of concern flickers across his eyes when he looks at the dragonborn standing off to the side, deep in thought.

Shadowheart rolls her eyes, “if you don’t talk to him I’ll tell Gale you stole the magical item Hayate was going to feed to him.”

“Excuse me darling, you’re the one who stole it in the first place. I was going to kindly give it to Gale like the gentleman I am but you took it before I could do anything!”

“As if. Now go and talk some sense into your dearest dragonborn,” Shadowheart gives the vampire a shove in Hayate’s direction, ignoring the little threats spewed as he stumbles forward. Astarion scowls at her but does as she says, only because if their leader was out of sorts the party wouldn’t quite hold itself together, and that wasn’t favourable for himself.

Yes, that’s the only reason why he was going out of his way to do this.

“Hello darling, I can’t help but notice you seem a little down,” Astarion purrs. “Perhaps I could do something about it?”

He leans in close, the smoky scent of the fire dragonborn filling his nose and prepares himself to feverishly slot his lips against the drgaonborn’s but Hayate pulls away with a hiss, heterochromatic eyes glowering with fury.

“Quit it!” Hayate snarls with such ferocity that Astarion instinctively flinches, quickly hopping back to put distance between him and Hayate. The dragonborn’s keen eyes don’t miss the flash of fear in the vampire’s ruby eyes and immediately his heart plummets.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Hayate looks down at his feet, toe claws digging into the dirt. Yet another thing to add to his already long list of disgusting qualities.

Astarion lets out a hollow laugh, a practiced smile plastered on his face, “don’t you worry darling. Your teeth are just a little too sharp for my tastes, but it’s something I can work around.”

Hayate shakes his head, “just…leave me alone for a bit alright, Astarion? I promise you can still feed on me later tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you later in camp, darling. Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” Astarion winks, turning around to head back to the others.

Hayate lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and sighs. Why did he always drive away those he wanted by his side? Had he never been taught to let others into his life? One more mystery to solve on top of the mountain of other mysteries he already had. At this point, Hayate was sure said mountain dwarfed him, and he was by no means a small dragonborn male.

“Let’s make camp and rest up,” he says once he’s gathered his thoughts enough to form a sentence that wouldn’t provoke anyone. The others nod, and go their separate ways to pitch their tents. Hayate can barely force himself to put together a shabby tent before collapsing onto his bedroll with a groan. His head throbs, his hands feel sticky and his throat feels dry. Should he tell Astarion he’s not feeling well tonight and apologise for being unable to make good on his promise?

His tent flap ruffles and said vampire peeks in, inviting himself into the tent when he sees the dragonborn lying on a bedroll with an arm draped over his face.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, darling.”

Hayate blearily rolls onto his side, facing away from Astarion who makes himself comfortable on the unoccupied side of the bedroll.

“Drop the matter already,” Hayate groans. Astarion neatly arranges the various items strewn about on the tent floor and carefully picks his way over to the dragonborn.

“I distinctly recall someone telling me that it’s not good to bottle one’s feelings up, especially the negative ones.”

“Screw off.”

“Well, that was a tad bit more polite than I expected.” Astarion lies down next to him, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. “I was waiting for you to start cussing me out.”

“Would you rather I do that?”

“Not really, but if it makes you feel better be my guest.”

In all honesty, Astarion has no idea what he’s doing. He’s just running through the motions he remembers Hayate doing when he felt trapped in his own mind, disgusted at his body, but if it worked for him it might just work for Hayate. The lack of a response from the dragonborn is a start, he decides, and sneaks a glance to make sure his lover is still there. He reaches over, gently tracing along the warm scales that line his lover’s bare arm from the elbow all the way to the clawtips, cautiously pressing his cold palm against Hayate’s warm scaly palm.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we could always just lie like this,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind.”

Something sparks in Hayate’s eyes. Confusion, surprise then recognition. He intertwines his clawed fingers with Astarion’s long slender ones, giving Astarion’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I distinctly recall someone saying the exact same thing some time back.”

Astarion can’t help but smile when he sees the corners of Hayate’s lips quirk upwards but refrains from stealing any kisses, lest he crosses any boundaries. If Hayate wanted a kiss, he would have to initiate it, not Astarion.

Maybe it’s because of the quiet bliss that the night brings but for whatever reason, Hayate’s walls just come crumbling down at Astarion’s words. He lets out a heavy sigh, turning around to face the vampire, “are you sure you want to know?”

The resolute look in the vampire’s eyes tells Hayate everything he needs to know and his grip on the cold hand tightens.

“Would you still love me if I was the vilest creature in all of Faerun?”

“Come now, darling. How could you possibly be the vilest creature in all of Faerun? You wouldn’t have been able to recruit the do-gooder hero Wyll Ravengard if that was the case,” Astarion chuckles but quickly stops when he sees how serious Hayate is being.

“What makes you say that about yourself, darling?” He asks quietly, gently cupping Hayate’s cheek.

“I have…these urges…that call me to slaughter innocents, bathe in their blood, drink their misery.”

“I know, darling. You’ve told me this before and yet I still chose you.”

“No, it’s not just that.” Hayate growls, frustrated. “What you don’t know is that a part of me enjoys doing those, craves it even, and it scares me. I’m scared that I’m so messed up to the point where I’m beyond saving, and I don’t want to burden you with this, not when you’re already dealing with your own problems.”

“Darling, you could never burden me.” Astarion curses the lull of the peaceful night that softens him. The line between performance and genuineness blurs under the soft crackling of the campfire outside as he dances dangerously close to the edge, and falls right off as he stares into the sad heterochromatic eyes of the fire dragonborn. He plummets, but Hayate catches him, cushioning the fall.

Hayate dances his own dance as he loses himself in the dark ruby eyes of the vampire spawn. He doesn’t know if this night is just another performance, perfected by centuries of practise but he dives right in, trusting that Astarion will catch him as he falls.

“When we find out how much blood I’m swimming in, will you still be there by my side?” Hayate breathes out. His heart thunders, afraid of the two letter word that may fall from the vampire’s lips and squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself for the worst but Astarion’s next words catch him off guard.

“Of course.”

Hayate cracks an eye open, checking that none of this was an illusion conjured by his deranged mind. The chill of the hand clasping his and the glint of the firelight outside reflected off the ruby irises looking at him with such softness are far too real to be an illusion. A dream perhaps but if all this is a dream, he doesn’t want it to end. Ever.

“Astarion…” His voice trails off. “I…”

A ‘thank you’ is all he can manage tonight, but it’s more than enough for Astarion who remains by his side for the remainder of the night, the promise of a meal long forgotten. Hayate lets the undead chill from the body of the vampire wash over him and warm his heart, burning away all his doubts for the night as sleep comes to claim his exhausted self. He swears he hears a soft whisper, a promise that the one he has bared his heart to will be there when he wakes but it just as well could be a trick conjured by his tired mind. Still though, Hayate holds onto the promise as he drifts off, for with it comes the prospect of a brighter future, a future where he no longer needs to feel alone.

[summahsunlight]

The Light of a Thousand Stars, CH. 4

Rating: T

Word Count: 1948

Pairing: Poe/Skywalker!OC

Summary: Commander Dameron and Black Squadron’s continued search for Lor San Tekka brings them closer and closer to danger and exposing the First Order as a sinister threat. A new pilot on the team threatens their tight dynamic and although Poe is trying to desperately keep them together, he knows that at some point Evelyn and Kaleb are going to have to go their separate ways–to find their father and bring him back to the Resistance. Sequel to We Belong to the Stars.

Here is chapter 4! Comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated

Leia had to push her worries about Evelyn's emotional state at the moment; they had other matters to attend too. If she could, she would order her niece to go home and rest for a few days--but sending Evelyn to Yavin IV would only trigger more nightmares, more anxiety--it would do more harm than good. If she had too, she could slap Poe around a bit and remind him to stop charming every person he met.

Although, that seemed unlikely to happen. Poe was just naturally charming.

Stepping into the briefing room, Leia's eyes were immediately drawn to the handsome charmer. Right now, she noticed that he wasn't smiling. It was obvious that his friend's betrayal of him was still weighing heavily on his mind. And perhaps some worry for how Evelyn was feeling, given he'd seen her storm out of the mess hall. His eyes questioned if Leia had spoken to her; Leia smiled, "She's fine. Give her some space and some time to calm down a little; we both know that if you approach too soon to fix anything it might just make her angrier."

Kaleb chuckled. "She's jealous and in denial that she is. Apparently, she thinks she's above jealousy."

Poe looked surprised. "Evelyn?" He was usually the one that got jealous; she was usually the one that was level headed, calm. "She's jealous? Of Sura?"

"Force, you're oblivious, Dameron."

:"Why would she be jealous?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you kinda liked Suralinda flirting with you."

"What? No I didn't!"

Leia chuckled to herself; her nephew was right, Poe could really be oblivious at times. She cleared her throat. "Can we get back on track here? We just got word on a possible sighting of your father."

Kaleb blinked, shocked. No one had heard from his father in years; Black Squadron is trying to track down a map to find him, for kriffs sake. Had Luke finally come out of hiding? "Where?" he asked, almost skeptically.

Poe shifted, noticing his friend's uneasiness. No one had seen or heard from Luke and if he had come out of hiding, Poe could understand why not contacting his children would sting for Kaleb. Surely, if Luke was returning he would reach out to Kaleb and Evelyn. "Are we sure this is legit?" he inquired.

"No," Leia said with a shake of her head. "But if it is him, I think you and Evelyn should go check it out, Kaleb."

"Evie isn't going to want to go," Kaleb replied, tightly. "She's angry at him for just leaving us."

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Poe offered.

"She's angry at you too right now; how are you going to convince her?"

"I have my ways."

Kaleb glared at him. "I don't want to hear about your ways of getting my sister to do stuff."

Poe mirrored his look. "Do you want her to go with you or not?"

Leia rolled her eyes; they could argue all day and she knew that the Resistance didn't have a lot of time to figure this out. "If we want Evelyn to go--I will be the one to talk to her. I don't need either one of you making here angrier than she already is."

"What if she doesn't want to go, Aunt Leia?" Kaleb asked.

"The flirt here will go with you," Leia responded with a smirk.

"I'm not sure you actually told us where anyone is going yet," Poe pointed out.

"Jedha."

"Jedha? Why there?"

Kaleb let out a slow breath. "It was the first testing sight for the Death Star, as well as one of the rumored places to have an ancient Jedi Temple. My mother always believed that the temple was destroyed when the Empire fire upon Jedha City. It's nothing but a cater now."

Leia nodded in agreement. "Intel suggested it was; however, this would be a logical place for your father to travel. If he is looking for answers like he claimed, and those ancient Jedi artifacts and texts might still be intact--I think this is worth checking out, Kaleb."

Poe could tell that Kaleb was feeling uneasy; it could be trap set by the First Order, but if it wasn't..."She's right, you know," the pilot said, firmly.

"Yeah. I know. Just...convincing Evie...that's going to be difficult."

"I'm still offering to try."

"Why don't you just start with getting her to come see me, Commander?"

"Yes, ma'am," Poe said, before slipping out of the briefing room and heading out onto the base to locate Evelyn.

After the briefing, Poe found Evelyn on the flight pad. "Still angry at me?" he questioned, a slight twinkle in his eye. When she didn't say a word, Poe leaned against her fighter. "I saw you storm out of the mess hall earlier. Either you were angry at me or your brother; I'm gonna play it on the safe side and say it's me."

Evelyn tossed him a sideways look. Judging by the way Poe was acting, she knew that Kaleb had already informed him of what she'd done in the mess hall at lunch. "He was annoying me," she answered, honestly.

Poe crossed his arms over his chest. "About me?" he guessed, that sparkle still in his eyes.

"What did Kaleb say to you?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. I don't believe you."

He pushed off of her fighter and took a step closer to her. "It seems that someone is jealous," Poe stated, silently laughing. "I don't know why she would be jealous because I think it's absolutely crazy that she would think I would have eyes for anyone else."

She glared at him even though she wasn't that angry. If she gave him an inch though, she knew he would walk all over. As it was, he was grinning ear to ear at her. "Be careful," Evelyn responded, sternly, "or she might go look for someone else."

Poe chuckled, one hand lazily reaching for hers and grasping it. He massaged her fingers between his own as his free hand came up to cup her face. "You have nothing to worry about, princess; I thought you knew that. By the time I met Sura, I was already hopelessly in love with you--I just hadn't worked the courage up to tell you."

Evelyn adverted looking into his deep brown eyes, out of embarrassment because he was right--she did have nothing to worry about. "It's not you I'm worried about--it's her. I don't like how she just flirts with you with me standing right there, and you don't have to enjoy it, you know."

"Did you know you're kinda adorable when you're jealous?" he asked, kissing her, tenderly.

"I'm serious!" she gasped, even as he leaned in for another kiss. "Poe!"

"C'mon, Evie--it meant nothing. And I stand by what I said--you're adorable when jealous."

"You better remember this moment the next time you get jealous."

He grew serious, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I make no promises."

She jokingly scoffed and pushed him away. "Can I get back to work?"

"Not on your fighter, you aunt wants to see you."

"What for? A mission?"

"Yeah... you could say that."

Evelyn peered at him, curiously. She wondered why he was being so secretive. If this was a mission for Black Squadron he would just come out and tell her what the mission was. She thought about opening up to the Force to probe him, but knew how much he hated that, and frankly, she wasn't sure she had the energy to accomplish that. "What's going on Poe? Why can't you just tell me if Aunt Leia wants me to go on a mission or not?"

Poe pursed his lips, glancing over the tarmac and the line of star fighters before glancing, tentatively, back at her. "Because, it has to do with your father--your aunt, myself, and Kaleb all know what a... delicate subject that is with you."

She paused for a moment. "This have something to do with the map?"

He shook his head. "No. Your father was sighted on Jedha."

A dozen different emotions flashed through her blue eyes; she wrung her wrists and for a brief second Poe was certain that she was going to burst into tears. Evelyn took a deep breath instead. "The Jedi Temple?" she guessed, in a whisper soft voice.

"It's what your brother is speculating."

"Aunt Leia wants Kaleb and I to go, doesn't she?"

"She does; if he's there she hopes you can convince him to come back with you."

Evelyn scoffed. "I couldn't convince him to stay five years ago after my mother died. I highly doubt I can convince him now."

Poe chose his words, carefully. "Things have changed since then, Evie. You know the Resistance needs his help."

"So I should go across the galaxy to beg a man who abandoned me to help?"

"Well...when you put it that way...it doesn't sound like such a great idea."

"No, it doesn't does it?"

"I know it hurt when he left...but don't we have to try?"

She knew that he was right; she hated that he was right. Evelyn pushed the tears back, leaving the unspoken between them--what if Luke didn't want to come back? Could Kaleb and Evelyn handle being abandoned by their father again? "Fine," she snapped, "I'll go see my aunt, but I'm not making any promises that I'm going with Kaleb."

At this point, Poe knew that was the best he was going to get from her. It was going to be up to Leia and Kaleb to convince Evelyn to go on the mission. "If it makes you feel better--Black Squadron will be stuck here while you're gone."

Evelyn looked at him, puzzled. "How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Poe smiled, coyly. "We'll be here, bored. Never a good thing when you have a bunch of bored pilots around."

"My aunt has sent you out on missions without me, Poe."

"I'm just trying to help here, princess."

She sighed and stepped towards him, softly planting a kiss on his cheek. "I know. Thank you."

He caressed her cheek with a calloused hand. Suddenly, he flashed back to her standing on that flight pad, hope filling her eyes for a brief second as she thought he was joining her and the Resistance. The devastation written on her face as he walked away still haunted him; how he had abandoned her weeks after Luke left, weeks after Sela had died, that would haunt Poe for the rest of his life. "Evelyn, I know this is hard for you. I wasn't here the last time; I am now."

Taking a calming breath, she knew that Poe was trying to make up for what happened five years ago--when he chose the Republic over her. At the time, she thought she couldn't possibly hurt anymore as she watched him walk away. She had been wrong; the months and years that followed without any contact from either her father or Poe had hurt so much more. "You came back on your own, Poe," Evelyn reminded him. "I didn't have to go looking for you or chase down a map to find you."

Stepping back, Poe held his hand out to her. "Come on," he said, taking her hand in his own. "Your aunt is waiting for you."  Together they walked towards the command center; Poe might not be able to go with her and Kaleb to help them on their mission to find their father--but he could at least walk Evelyn to her briefing and support her.

[kip-has-fleas]

fanfic

so this is a piece of a story i'm writing with my best friend about our two ocs (it's currently 170 pages long) it's about two kids that live in the pizzaplex tw they talk about murder fnaf ocs yee

Orbit woke up with a start in the middle of the night. Orbit, Libbit, Stitches, and eventually Vanny had spent the rest of the day playing games and messing around in random rooms. There hadn’t been much to do. It was fun, though. Orbit had stopped playing after the fifth round of Uno, but he enjoyed watching his friends have fun.

Orbit rolled over and looked around the room. Vanny had left at some point, but Stitches and Libbit had fallen asleep in the middle of the floor, in the middle of drawing something. Orbit wasn’t quite sure what they were drawing, but he was glad they didn’t hate each other. He smiled as Stitches said something in his sleep and rolled over.

Sitting up and checking the time, Orbit decided he might as well get up and do something. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a while. He stretched quietly and picked up his phone, exiting the room. He heard Libbit stir slightly as he bumped into a box and quickened his pace. 

Not exactly sure what he was doing, Orbit wandered back towards the main floor of the Pizzaplex, deciding to do something entertaining. He didn’t want to do Mazercise anymore. Now that he thought about it, Mazercize was pretty boring.

Yawning and tripping up the stairs, Orbit made it to the atrium, treading lightly. He wasn’t sure if the animatronics were out tonight or not. Orbit didn’t love how much free will they had. 

Orbit climbed the stairs and ventured up to the top floor, looking down at the atrium tiredly. Even at night, the place was lit up, although not as brightly. Orbit liked the ambient colored lighting. He leaned against the balcony, yawning. 

The blue-purple haze his mask veiled the world around him and gave the Pizzaplex an eerie look. Orbit was used to this at this point. He quite liked it. It made him feel like some sort of superhero.

Orbit’s wry smile faded. He wasn’t a superhero. He was a murderer. And now that he had stabbed that kid-

Orbit shook his head. No, he didn’t have any regrets. Plus, if he did, he couldn’t address them. Just like every other confusing feeling he had. 

Orbit forced him to think about his experience earlier that day with Libbit instead. He wondered what party room she had rented. He didn’t think she had mentioned that.

No, she definitely hadn’t. The whole experience under the dusty table had been burned into his memory, and Orbit couldn’t recall her telling him what room her parents had rented.

Deciding recalling the whole experience was making him feel weird, he shook his head again and pushed the memory back reluctantly. 

Orbit readjusted his grip on the balcony, watching as Roxy wandered out onto the main floor. She seemed less feral than she had when she was chasing Orbit, and Orbit relaxed slightly. Roxy didn’t seem to be able to see him watching her. She wandered across the room, talking to herself. Orbit couldn’t hear what she was saying. 

“Heyy~” Orbit jumped as Libbit skipped up behind him, stopping and leaning over the balcony to peek down at Roxy. 

“I thought you were asleep.” Orbit said, looking back down. Libbit shrugged. “I’m not anymore.” 

“That’s obvious.” Orbit chuckled, pushing away from the balcony as Roxy wandered away again. Libbit giggled. 

“Did I wake you up?” Orbit asked, looking over at her. Libbit giggled again. 

“Nah. Stitches kicked me in his sleep.” She said, shaking her head. “Silly kid.”

Orbit cringed. “Sorry- I should’ve moved him.” He chuckled. Libbit didn’t answer, silently agreeing but not wanting to seem too rude. 

“You gonna come kill with me tomorrow?” Libbit asked hesitantly. “It’ll be fun~”

Orbit chuckled. “Heh. Maybe.” He shrugged, looking back down and pretending to search the atrium for any more animatronics. “I don’t know.”

“I do know.” Libbit said, punching Orbit somewhat gently in the shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun!” Orbit shrugged, rubbing his shoulder even though it didn’t hurt. “We’ll see, I guess.” Libbit huffed impatiently. “You’re so stubborn.” She grumbled, but Orbit could tell she didn’t really mean it. 

“Guilty.” Orbit chuckled again, glancing back down at the floor below them. Libbit giggled. 

“What’re you doing out here, anyways?” She asked, stepping away from the edge. Orbit shrugged. “Just wanted to take a walk.”

“Oh.” Libbit said, running out of things to say. “Are you enjoying your walk?” “I’m enjoying it more now tha-” Orbit cut himself off in the middle of his somewhat sarcastic comment, looking away and pretending to be lost in how interesting the stage was. Libbit broke off into hysterical giggles.

“Were you gonna say ‘now that you’re here’?” Libbit teased. Orbit laughed nervously. “You’re sleep deprived.” He said, avoiding the question. Libbit paused, thinking.

“That’s true.” She admitted. “I’m pretty tired-” “Then go back to sleep, you goofball.” Orbit said, nudging Libbit’s shoulder. Libbit shook her head. “I’m already awake now~” Orbit laughed. “Sorry about that.” He apologized again. “I really should’ve moved Stitches.” Libbit giggled. “Actually, he didn’t wake me up. I was awake when you left.” “Oh.” Orbit said, once again directing his attention in the general direction of the stage. “Why’d you follow me?” This time Libbit looked away, shrugging. “Just felt like it.”

They both stayed quiet for a minute or two.

“Thanks for earlier.” Libbit mumbled eventually, snapping Orbit back into reality.

“What?” Orbit asked, turning to look at her. 

“For- you know.” She clearly didn’t want to talk much about the ‘incident’.

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.” Orbit chuckled. Libbit perked up, flapping her hands. “I’m gonna head back now. Seeya~” She skipped off. 

“Bye.” Orbit called after her, perplexed.

Orbit stared down at the patterned floor, thinking. That was…weird.

Orbit gazed down at the atrium, lost in thought. He watched as Monty stormed out of Gator Golf. The grumpy alligator animatronic didn’t leave his attraction much. Orbit wondered why he felt the need to inspect the atrium. Orbit backed away from the ledge, trying to stay out of his line of sight.

Eventually, Monty left again. Getting bored, Orbit decided to head back to the basement and try to sleep. 

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

Shav is here to infodump about her ocs of 3 years ago

First i want to put some worldbuilding here

Okay so there's 3 worlds, the normal human world, the 'magic' world and the angel world

Angel world became chaotic bc they were prideful and distrustful with each other so even when God(Chaos + Order) sent a messiah, she failed bc of the nature of the angels and couldnt save them from their own destruction (the planet literally exploded so some rests happened to lay on the 'magic' world)

Then we have magic world! The world is alive on its own, so after the angel incident it created a magic system made of 7 pilars: fire/heat, water, ice, nature, darkness, light and electricity, yknow your local elements, although electricity wouldnt be discovered after some time haha

These pillars have to balance each other, their power is related to the amount of 'element' is in the world, for example water is one of the strongest and ice is one of the weakest just bc theres less ice than water in the world.

Each pillar is given to someone native of the world but you can get more than one, the world is crazy like that. The ones that get a pillar are called mages and they are treasured and view as heroes in the world

But since the pillars have to balance each other if one of the group dies, the rest will lose their powers and the pillars will pass to other people. There is just one requirement, the group has to be the same age. There's also a rumor that says that they also need to be good of heart but nah

And then theres the human world and they just happen to be there

First we have a doodle of my absolute favourites, Chasis and Ludovic

They are 2 mages of the 2nd gen of mages, Chasis has the darkness and light pillar and ludovic the ice one, Chasis is one of the most powerful mages bc of his two pillars and ludovic is one of the weakest. But he makes the best ice cream in the world!

Chasis is a dwarf, normally mages with two pillars mix with their elements easily, chasis has nightsky skin bc of light and darkness. He is kinda meanie but he wishes the best for everyone wholeheartedly

Ludovic is a demon, demons in my world look like axolotls with horns and rarely have wings. Most people think that demons are evil but they are rly docile and powerless. Ludovic is the pride of his family just bc he can manage to control some icey ice. He has a green crystal on his neck, it's a family thing to know that the others are okay :3. He is short tempered, gets tired easily and cant deal well with negativity.

Chasis and Ludovic team up accidentally and they have to get along, which it takes a long time but they did it!! They have to team up bc rumors say that there's a traitor in the mages group bc someone is trying to kill one of them. Chasis and Ludovic were the only loners so it was a matter of time for them to end up together lol

In the left we have lavoisier, lava for frends, the captain of the government secret service :), there has been a robbery of some important documents and they are in charge of retrieve them, while they also happen to get involved in the traitor among us thing of the mages

Lava has secretly the electricity pillar but nobody knows :) he has a serious face and serious personality but given the right moments he is a bit twisted and insane

Then (below) we have Laura! Ludovic's little sister! She also has a green crystal on her neck. Ludovic doesn't know she is in the government but its alright (unless!!). She loves Ludovic and wouldnt do anything to harm him or her family, but she also kinda likes lava 😳😳

And then we have charnel, he was a substitude they found last moment bc the last one died. He was in charge of an abandoned cementery and knows a lot of things about knives, dead bodies and everything in between. But he is a rly sweet guyy and i mean it, he just finds death and knives normal help

And nowww we have a panel of a comic i did in 2019, with Modora the girlie and Trevor the guy

They loveydovey couple, unless!!!!

Okay so they are in human world but neither is human help

Modora is native from 'magic world' she was cursed by a mermaid by becoming a mermaid (help) but she could get out and travel to the human world. She was new to the human life and remembering her days of being a mermaid she accidentally flooded her neighbor's flat. Wooo forced cohabitation, modora was rly sorry that happened so just out of kindness she invited him to her own apartment, and then HE SAID OK and she was shocked to death. Tbh trevor at the beginning was weird and had a stoned face so i understand. She became addicted to videogames rly fast too

And then ohh Trevor trevor.... This man can hold so much angst!!!! Let me let me start

Okay so you remember when i said at the start of this post how there was an angel world and God (chaos and order) sent a messiah to save them? Ok so what rly happened is that there was this rly strong angel that hated the rest of the angels bc of their nature, he thought he was different from anyone else but in reality he was just like them because he thought he was best, he was better than them. So that idea crushed him and decided to take down the world with him. The messiah, Arebi had rly close contact with him, they fought a lot bc he thought that angels didnt deserve salvation but she wanted to save them and idk they kinda liked each other yknow. Nothing could change the angel's mind bc all angels are prideful and they are all the same ( HE WAS DIFFERENT THO BC HE WAS CAPABLE OF LOVING SOMEONEEEE so cute right) and Arebi couldnt do the only thing that would have stopped him, she couldn't kill him.

So pum fast forward we have Trevor, and we have another threat to the world, nobody knows what but there's a lot of events happening at the same time (apart from traitor among us of the mages) so God (Chaos and Order) decide to send yet another messiah (Arebi died) but this one with one condition: 'you can never fall in love'

Soooo yeah haha uh you know where this is going........ And its rly past my bedtime so im going to sleep

[raggaraddy]

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you. 

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

[fanfic-cave]

Migraine

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Hunter x GN!Reader

Warnings: War Flashbacks/implied PTSD, angst & guilt, people be crushing on eachother, is this fluff? perhaps...

Summary: You start with a normal day with TBB, when a migraine comes on and you relive your worst traumas. How do you cope, especially when it happens on the havoc marauder?

I came up with this idea when I was having a migraine the other day, and I kinda infused it with an OC I had thought up. I decided to leave it GN for the readers, but technically its a part of their story, if that makes sense. (I actually think the story is kinda cool so I might write up chapters we'll see...)

Leave feedback if you'd like! :)

Today started as a normal day for you. You made a trip to go visit the most interesting group around, The Bad Batch. They seemed to appreciate your company, and you enjoyed theirs. Often they expected you to come over and socialize for a good chunk of the day. You remember what a stark contrast this was from when you first met, each of them suspicious of you (well, except for Omega), and you skeptical of them. Once you asked for their help making a trip to Dantooine, you protected each other in battle, and the walls started coming down. Now you had each other's backs, you’d all proven it countless times.

Except you’re still lying to them. The unwelcome thought intruded your mind. You still haven’t told them why you’re really avoiding the empire.

*Y/N, did you hear what I said?* Tech spoke in Ryl. Once he heard you knew several languages from all over the galaxy, he enjoyed taking the opportunity to speak a different language with you.

You shook your head. “Sorry Tech, lost in thought, what did you say?” You had replied in common instead. He looked slightly disappointed at your doing so. “I asked you if you’d seen the improvements I made to your vibroblades yet.” You looked down and saw he had definitely made some adjustments. “Oh, no I haven’t. I need to try practicing with them.”

“You’d have better luck with a blaster.” Crosshairs voice came from down the hall. He shouldered past you, bumping into you intentionally. You laughed at his comment, massaging your forehead as an attempt to combat an oncoming headache. “Hah, do I need to remind you what happened when you let your snarky attitude get the better of you while I had my blades?” You managed to see him shake his head in response, the lights in the room suddenly started to bother you.

His voice became faint, you heard “Lucky … only close … shoot you.” His voice was coming in and out, and a harsh pounding pain began at the top of your skull. You gripped your head and tried laughing at Cross’s comment, you’re sure it was probably his usual attitude. You thought you heard Hunters voice coming down the hall, but you couldn’t make out words. You saw through squinted eyes Tech was analyzing your behavior, and his lips began to move.

Finally you had to squeeze your eyes shut, and voice as loudly as you could “Gotta go.” The lights seemed too bright, and your headache revealed itself as a full-blown migraine. The bright lights seemed to cut into you, making the pounding in your head stronger. You felt like a big fist was punching you from inside, trying to break your skull open. You stumbled down the halls and managed to find the bathroom, rushing in and shutting the door.

The pounding subsided slightly, now that light was absent. You groaned and settled yourself on the floor. Unwelcome thoughts began to flash through your head. Separatist forces engaging you and the battalion. BANG. Tanks firing. BANG. Dead clone troopers lying on the ground, their voice screaming. BANG. Your own body lying on the ground unable to move. BANG. Tears streamed down your face, both from the pain and the horrible memories.

A soft knock at the door pulled you back into the moment, and you realized you had been banging your head on the wall. “Y/N?” You heard Hunters voice on the other side.

“I’m fine.” You said weakly. “Headache. Give me a minute.” You heard voices on the other side of the door, and footsteps shuffling. The head pounding in your skull still continued, but the flashes were gone.

“Close your eyes.” Hunter spoke quietly now. You covered your eyes, not having the energy to argue with him right now.

You heard the door open and he walked it, quickly closing the door. “What’s going on?” He knelt onto the floor next to you. You could make out his figure, and see a concerned look etched into his face now that your eyes adjusted to the dark. “Migraine. I’d like to be…” Alone. You tried to say it, but you couldn’t. You’d never had someone around when the pain was this bad, and part of you wanted him to stay with you the whole time. You gripped your head with both hands as a swell of pain surged through again.

Hunter gave you a moment to finish your sentence, once he realized you wouldn’t he sighed. “Let me at least put you somewhere more comfortable.” He spoke in a whisper, trying not to agitate you too much. He waited for a response. “Can you move?” You tried standing, pain swelled, and you settled back down. You knew it would only get worse when the door opened and the light would come through. You tried shaking your head. “I’m gonna carry you, okay?” He waited for an objection. “The light…” you breathed out. “Don’t worry, I'll handle it.” You heard him shuffle around, cloth moving, and then he gently wrapped a towel around your head. Your eyes were now effectively covered.

You felt one arm wrap around your back, his hand gripping your side, the other arm began securing you under your legs. In one fluid movement, Hunter lifted you up and your body was leaning against his. You pressed your towel-covered face into the crook of his shoulder, preparing to block out the light. You felt him take a sharp breath in as you pressed your face tightly against him. The door swung open, and you were relieved that you could see no brightness. The pain continued its pounding, but it began to dull. You felt comfortable and secure in his arms, and you realized nobody has ever taken care of you quite like this. You were suddenly grateful you had the towel on (which you realized had quite an unpleasant smell too), because it hid the blush that filled your cheeks.

Hunter's body swayed a little and you heard his feet move. Do I even weigh anything to him? You wondered, since he carried you so easily. Another door opened, and then shut. He took a few more steps, then you felt him adjusting your weight, beginning to set you down. He settled you onto a comfortable cot, a soft blanket underneath you. He gently rested your head down on the pillow, and removed your towel. The room was dark, darker than in the bathroom. You looked around and realized you were in Hunter's room. It was small, but it had enough room to fit you on the cot and him standing at the foot of the bed.

You both looked at each other for a moment, the pain lessening a little. “That towel smells.” You whispered. Hunter shrugged. You wrinkled your nose at him and then went to massage your forehead. You turned onto your left side so you could face him better, and fully relaxed into the bed. Although there was a slight stink, the bed smelled like him too. You pulled the blanket up a little to hide your face, and to take in the scent more. It served as a good distraction.

“Stay as long as you need to,” he said quietly. You heard him begin to shuffle out of the room. “Wait-” you reached out, not close enough to grab him, but the gesture caused him to freeze. You felt a slight surge of embarrassment, but ignored it. “Stay a bit. Please. I think it helps.” You saw his chest move up, like he was holding his breath. You wished you could see his face, to try and pick apart what he might be thinking right now. You continued massaging your head, moving to your temples now. You closed your eyes and tried relaxing, not wanting to pressure him by staring. You didn’t hear his movement, but the bed shifted, and you felt fingers move in between yours, and they began taking over the circular motions. You looked up and saw Hunter sat on the bed, a few inches in front of your body. You hoped he couldn’t see the color in your face change as he gently took over massaging your temple.

Although you were a little flustered by him doing this, you felt your heart flutter and your body relax to his touch. The pain was a soft thud now, and you could more easily ignore it. Your eyes had wandered away for a minute, but you searched for him again. You saw that he was watching you closely, and you thought he looked concerned, although his face seemed to betray no expression. The massaging turned into a head rub that went in circular motions all around and through your hair. It felt amazing and you sighed, resting your head more onto the pillow.

You watched Hunter for another minute. He never made eye contact with you, but you knew he was watching you, just as you were watching him. After a few more moments passed, you reached up to grab Hunters hand to stop his motions. He looked into your eyes questioningly. “Thank you, Hunter.” You smiled softly, and began to sit up on the bed. He hesitated, and then his hand retreated back. “Sure, we take care of each other here.”

What does this mean? You thought, as you both looked into each other's eyes. You had wondered at one point if there was something more to Hunter, or something more between the two of you. You both seemed to get along well, and you couldn’t deny there were moments you had. Tending to wounds, protecting each other in a fight, you wondered… Could there be something more here?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve it. I don’t even deserve their trust.

You looked away from him and began to stand. “I should be getting back.”

“Already?” He seemed surprised. “Everyone will be back soon.” You remained silent. “I know Omega would like to see you.” You felt a sting in your chest as he mentioned her. Omega was your first friend in the group. Her innocent kindness towards you had been the beginnings of your relationship with everyone. You had a soft spot for her, just like everyone else seemed to. You managed to look back at him and smile softly “You’ll have to tell her hi for me.” You allowed yourself another moment to look at him. He broke eye contact fairly quickly and said “Alright then, fine.” You sighed and recognized that he was disappointed in your decision.

Could this be more?

The sting in your chest seemed to tug at you with this thought. “I’ll see you around Hunter.” You turned away and started to leave.

Maybe.

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 16 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none a/n: :D hope you guys enjoy!! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​ @crescent-iak​​​ @ncttboo​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​ @jinfizz​ @doyoungyoung​ @ahgayeah0305​ @doyobun​ @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr​ @m1ss-foodi3​ @hcwurld​

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Doyoung looks so pretty like this.

The space between his brows are crinkled in vexation, hair unstyled and brushing against his forehead with his lips pursed while focusing on the task at hand. He’s taken the day off of his internship for this, with approval from your brother, and plus, the way his eyes are sunken and the breakouts on his skin are appearing, it seems like he deserves to chill out for a bit.

But, he seems to refuse to do that, opting that his priority is to take care of you.

Doyoung hasn’t been back to his apartment other than just to grab the necessities—his business casual attire for work, underwear, some lounge clothes, and just things here and there that might be useful. But he hasn’t slept in the comforts of his own bedroom, no, instead he’s been sleeping at your side in your room.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“Well, you could say it’s a bit weird when someone else does it for you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Be cooperative. I’m trying to make it better.”

You puff your cheeks in agitation, stubborn because you’re not used to this much physical touch, despite the amount of times you’ve slept with Doyoung. There’s something about this that feels more intimate, not like a quick bang for pleasure, but rather he’s doing this because he cares about you.

“Steady. Just a little longer and we’ll be good.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“It has not been twenty minutes.” Doyoung isn’t that same soft boy you met months ago. He’s gotten intrepid, unabashed by any smart or sharp remarks that you throw his way, in fact, he dodges them or bites the bullet before resuming back to having you in his arms. “You think it’s been twenty minutes because you’re preoccupied with nagging about how you don’t like this happening.”

“It’s weird,” you state, tapping your fingers against the wooden frame of your bed as a distraction. You could use a cigarette, but somehow you managed to let a pretty boy like Doyoung convince you to stop. “I don’t like having people this close.”

“I’m literally just replacing your gauze.”

You frown. “It’s… intimate.” Doyoung can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your response as he reaches for a fresh new gauze. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do, I just—”

“You won’t let your own boyfriend touch you like this?” He queries, and you’re starting to find yourself in this position often. He’d say something bold, something that he normally doesn’t do, and it leaves you feeling small like you used to do to him. Oh, how the tables have turned. He calls himself your boyfriend recently, despite not officially making it a label, but you like it. It feels… right, for once, like this is how it’s supposed to be.

“It’s not that,”

“Then you should just let me do this, yeah?” He tosses the old bandage into the trash. “Plus, we’re almost done anyways. Would you like to go on a walk after this? I kind of wanted to talk about something.”

Staying put, you inhale in a deep breath in surrender because you’re curious about what he wants to discuss. He remains focused, wrapping you once again, despite the fact that the staff at your house offers to do it since it’s their job, but Doyoung insists it’s his job as much as theirs.

After pulling your shirt down, he offers a hand, helping you transition over to your wheelchair, one you’ve grown to hate because it makes you feel helpless, and Doyoung takes you down the hall.

“There’s an elevator down the hall.”

“A what?”

“An elevator,” you reiterate, and Doyoung doesn’t move, feet rooted into the ground. “We don’t have many floors because we do have an elevator. Goes here, the lobby, basement, then the wine cellar.”

“There’s a wine cellar under your basement?”

“You don’t have one?” He knows it’s a joke, so he just shakes it off and heads over to the large metal doors. Your personality never showcases your wealth, and although he’s in your beautiful home with staff that fills up the majority of it, he still forgets the money you come from.

Naeun is still gorgeous, despite the bruises on her cheeks and the cuts that are scattered across her face.

She’s wiping her hands, after running them under the water in the sink, soaping up her previously flawless porcelain skin that’s now marked with the aftermath of another fight. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” you admit, rolling around the kitchen in your wheelchair. “How are you feeling?”

“Bitchin’,” she states calmly, giving a thankful gaze in Doyoung’s direction when he slides over the first aid kit toward her. “Lover boy been takin’ care of ‘ya?”

“Wish he’d go home and take a break for once, but yeah. Good boy decided he wants to play nurse.”

“Why do you guys talk like I’m not here?”

The two of you shrug, waving him off as Naeun hops onto the granite countertop and begins tending to her own wound. “There’s been another attack,” you glare at her and Naeun only rolls her eyes. “He already knows, don’t act like he’s all innocent to this.” She dabs the remnants of blood on her lip before grabbing the disinfectant wipe. “Johnny’s dead, just so you know.”

“What? Johnny’s dead?”

“Nah, he’s undercover,” she winces at the impact of the alcohol against her open cut. “Fuck.”

You furrow your brows. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Just kidding, he’s dead.”

“Naeun,” you say sternly. She’s playing another game.

“Just kidding. I’m just testing your cognitive skills.” Searching for the neosporin, she gives a quick scoop of the ointment and applies it on. “Seeing if you can still think the same. I have a really bad itch that they’re gonna ask you to come back, love.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in,” you’re pointing to all of your gunshot wounds. “Got a couple holes in my body that are still whistling when the wind blows.” Tilting your head, you’re trying to make out the expression on her face from underneath all that hair. “What’s with that look?”

She jolts her head at you. “What look?”

“You know something.”

“Other than Johnny’s death?”

“Naeun.”

“Alright,” she sighs, leaning back against her arms. You can’t help but notice the twitch in her lip, and it’s not from her cut. “Rumor has it, they’re going to try to initiate you again. This time, maybe not so nicely.”

“Even after I went through all that trouble? In case they’ve forgotten but I literally have holes in my body. I risked my life for the guy and here I am, sitting in a wheelchair, unable to fucking take a piss by myself, and he wants me to hop back on the field again?”

“You know how he is,” Naeun says apologetically, although none of this is her fault. She’s just the middle man, the bearer of bad news, and she’s only doing her job by protecting the Boss but you’re not even directly tied to the group, just simply a contractor. “He sees your capabilities, thinks you’re more than worthy, he wants to keep you. Seeing that you’re standing in front of the bullets, taking one for the team and protecting those who are part of us… it only makes him want you more.”

“But he can’t even wait?” You exasperate, baffled by his abruptness despite the fact you were still going through a recovery period. “I’m not even ready yet.”

“Well, he’ll give you some time—”

“You’re making it sound like it’s soon.”

She looks pained. “It… It is soon. He thinks the sooner you begin training, the better. You’ll be better equipped and—”

“I thought this was supposed to be temporary,” you state, voice firm. “I mentioned prior that this was simply a gig I needed to get by.”

“This was before you caught the mole. Before you put yourself in danger, protecting the members of the organization. You proved yourself more than capable, and he wants that. He wants you. You get the job done. Why do you think we keep coming back and hiring you? Because sometimes, you don’t even need a gun. You have your fucking head and that’s the weapon.”

“Well, I need a break.”

“There is no break.”

“Naeun, I almost died. To be quite frank, I don’t give a fuck what Taeyong says. I’m taking a break.”

The sunset is breathtaking; warm hues over the horizon, shining on the Good Boy’s face and only adding on to the fact that he’s also the golden boy. Seated on the picnic blanket beside you, he’s resting his weight back on his arms, eyes closed, soaking in the sun with a soft smile upon his face, inhaling in deep breaths to soothe his nerves. “This is nice. I’m glad you suggested it.”

You hate that you have to lean against this make-shift seat, back pressed on the trunk of the tree. But it hurts so bad to sit on your own; parts of your torso require you to straighten yourself because any slight bend stings. You desperately miss being able to function on your own—it’s so embarrassing asking your boyfriend to do things for you.

“You good?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to glance at you. “I hear you wincing.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, adjusting yourself once more. “I’m just… getting comfortable.”

Doyoung sighs, finally picking up on your personality and habits by now, so he slides himself back just a bit and extends his legs. “Come here.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

He pats his lap. “Come here. Lay your head on my lap, and enjoy the sun with me. We can soak in the warmth, and talk about what’s on your mind. Feels like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and not a whole lot of talking.”

Conceding, it takes you a while but with Doyoung’s help, you’re finally laying—there’s less pain in this position, and you’re grateful he suggests it. He brushes your hair out of your face, a soft smile looking down at you that tugs on your heartstrings. “You’re probably thinking a lot.”

“I am,” he admits, pursing his lips. “Have been for a while.”

“Well… will you tell me?” You’d be lying if you said that Doyoung confessing he’s been pondering frequently doesn’t make you nervous. There’s always that possibility of him deciding that maybe this wasn’t for him—that taking care of you, learning you’re a sort of a hitman and part of some shady organization, or that your family owned the company that he worked at wasn’t… what he signed up for.

But that stupid grin doesn’t ever wipe off of his face. “What is it?”

And with a gentle voice, he says with a press of a kiss on the crown of your head, he says these words that have you levitating. “I love you.”

[galacticwildfire]

found.

Two.

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin

Summary: Satine and Obi-wan’s daughter fought in the war against the Empire and lost her faith when she lost Mandalore. Until she found him. A lone Mandalorian searching for a Jedi.

Warnings:little bit of violence, mostly just threatening violence, prejudice against Sand People, mention of Anakin slaughtering not just the men, but the women and the children too, unapologetic use of the term baby yoda considering she knew yoda, mild sexual tension.

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Din and her meet and are in for a wild ride on a Krayt dragon, literally.

Masterlist

~

~

~

Tatooine.

The last time I set foot here was when we rescued Han and killed Jabba the Hutt. When I thought I killed Boba.

Just about everyone here I knew as a child is dead, Luke's uncle and aunt, my father, even the damn jawa's are likely dead at this point. So I find my way into the city to find information.

I'm tempted to head straight for the bar but I know that there is one person I should see first.

Peli Motto at her hanger.

"I'll be damned," she says when she lays eyes on me. "Kyra Kenobi, how many years has it been?"

"Five give or take," I answer having actually missed this place. It's not Mandalore but it was a second home. One with no responsibility or reputation to uphold, here I was free. "A long time."

"What brings you here?" she asks as she takes a peek at my ship and cringes.

"Business," I answer, watching the droids as they start giving my ship a once over. "I was hoping we could chat?"

Her face falls. "Oh no that doesn't sound good."

I try to give her a reassuring smile but she knows me well enough to be hesitant to say the least. "Let's have a drink first."

~

And so I sit and listen as she tells me what's happened on Tattooine these past few years which is nothing good.

Over and over in my mind as she's speaking I replay those final moments with Boba Fett, slicing him down the middle with my saber, not enough to cut through the beskar but enough to throw him off balance, enough for him to fall into the sarlac pit. I can't fathom how he could have survived but it's Boba Fett. The worst ones always live.

Mandalorians are rare these days, and there's no doubt that if anyone here has seen a Mandalorian they'd remember. Even if that bastard wasn't a true Mandalorian.

"You're quiet," she notes when she finishes talking and finally asks "What's this business that's brought you back here after all these years."

"I'm looking for a Mandalorian," I tell her and I notice how her eyes widen, the panic I feel from her. "You've seen him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she tries to lie but I see through it. "If there was a Mandalorian here I'd know."

Before I can further the interrogation the sound of a ship landing interrupts us and she swears under her breath. "Stay here."

So I raise my hands in submission and wait until she's gone until I jump to my feet and with a hand on my blaster find my way to the door.

From there I watch as an old Razor Crest model lands and already I know it's not good news. A ship that's off the radars of both the Empire and the Republic. At least it's not Slave I.

The door opens and then I see him clear as day.

A Mandalorian.

"Mando," she says nervously. "I've got a lady here who's looking for you."

Except it's not him. It's not Boba.

But a true Mandalorian.

It's actually a pleasant surprise.

"Hello there," I say and she shakes her head at me, mouthing silent warnings.

He looks between me and her and immediately pulls his blaster on me. "You here for the kid?"

Out of instinct my blaster is now in my hand, aimed at his head although I know it won't pierce the beskar it will sure knock the wind out of him.

"Who the blazes are you?"

I'm purely bewildered at the mention of a kid and hardly even glance at the blaster aimed at me knowing that sure as hell won't hurt me. I might not be wearing beskar but there are other ways to stop a laser.

Before either of us can make a move Peli Motto jumps between us with her hands raised. "Woah, woah! Blasters down! If you want to shoot each other take it outside!"

"We are outside," I remark and she points a stern finger at me.

"Watch it Kenobi."

But the Mandalorian doesn't lower his blaster. "Are you here for the kid?"

Kid? I might be a Jedi but I'm hardly here to steal a kid.

"No. I'm looking for a Mandalorian."

Slowly he lowers it. "So am I."

I raise a curious eyebrow as I take him in. "That's some shiny new beskar and maker knows how rare it is. How expensive it is."

He tilts his head at me and I watch his hand tighten around the blaster. "If you want it you will have to peel it off my dead body."

"Don't be so uncivilised," I say stepping closer while Peli steps away from us. "I'm just wondering how you could come to afford that. Let me take a guess, bounty hunter?"

While he doesn't deny it he still seems offended. "I am a Mandalorian."

"A Mandalorian bounty hunter," I comment and could almost laugh at the irony. "How convenient. Why don't we both put our blasters away and talk?"

"Yes," Peli says clapping her hands together. "What a brilliant idea! I'll take the kid inside while you two talk."

I watch as he gives a bag to her and it coos. Disturbing to say the least but it's not in distress.

He doesn't comment on it as we both put our blasters away.

"Kyra Kenobi," I say extending my hand but he doesn't seem to recognise my name. Probably a good thing.

"You can just call me Mando," he says taking it and his grip is firm, like mine.

"Mandalorians are exceedingly rare these days," I say trying to identify him, I know he wasn't one of my soldiers during the war. He has a presence I definitely wouldn't forget.

"Which is why I'm trying to find one," he says and my eyes flicker down to the clan crest engraved on his armour, it definitely isn't one I recognise. "But why are you trying to find one?"

"Let's just say I have some unfinished business," I say and he tenses. "I'm guessing you're on your own."

"Aren't all Mandalorians?" he asks and he does make me curious indeed. So I decide to play along.

"So I hear."

He steps closer and it's clear he's used to his mere presence being enough to intimidate. But it's a little hard to be intimidated after mouthing off at the likes of Darth Vader and being the one giving orders to leagues of Mandalorians.

"So why don't you tell me why you're trying to kill a Mandalorian?"

"Because he isn't a true Mandalorian," I say knowing how Mandalorians are when it comes to an outsider wearing beskar. "He's a bounty hunter."

"So am I."

"But you weren't Darth Vader's personal bounty hunter," I say and there is some recognition at that name at least. "Have you ever heard of Boba Fett?"

"No."

Now that is curious, a bounty hunter not knowing Boba Fett. Perhaps he's wiser than most and ignores galactic affairs, or perhaps he simply doesn't care.

"He was the best bounty hunter in the galaxy before the war ended. Darth Vader hired him for the Empire's worst jobs. He had a thing for disintegration let's just say that. I'm here to kill him."

He looks me up and down. "You plan on killing the best bounty hunter in the galaxy?"

"I plan on finishing what I started," I say resting a hand on my saber. "Except this time I'll go for the neck."

He still seems doubtful but then again he doesn't know my name nor my reputation. I wear no armour, just a holster. I look like any civilian. Safer to travel that way when I'm still wanted by the Empire. They may no longer rule the galaxy but my head would still fetch a pretty price in the outer rims.

"You say he's not a true Mandalorian?"

"He wears beskar and has his own questionable code of honour but no, not truly."

"Could he know where other Mandalorians may be?"

"Perhaps," I answer and that seems to satisfy him enough.

"Then we'll find him."

His willingness surprises me and now our blasters are safely away Peli comes back out.

"Are you two done now? Good."

The top of the bag she holds slips down and a little green creature with pointy ears sticks it's head out and I stare at it in pure astonishment.

"What is that thing?" I ask realising afterwards I could have chosen my words more carefully.

"My kid," Mando says and for a moment I wonder what's beneath his armour before realising what he means.

"He's a foundling."

He cocks his head at me, surprised I know what a foundling is but he doesn't comment on that.

He watches me carefully as I step closer to the kid who reaches out for me. "Does he have a name?"

"No."

Peculiar, but he does seem to be a peculiar man.

It's only as his little hand wraps around my finger that I realise why he looks so familiar. "He's a little baby yoda," I murmur to myself.

"A baby what now?"

"Yoda," I repeat. "I knew one of his species once, but the kid's far cuter that's for sure."

"His species?" he inquires. "You know his species?"

"Don't ask me what they were called because I have no idea, but they are strange I can tell you that much."

He lets out a short laugh. "That's an understatement."

The kid coos again and I can feel something within him, buried.

The force.

Oh no.

"Has he looked after you?" I ask the kid and his eyes light up as they look past me to Mando, and the feeling within the child tells me all I need to know as he reaches for me.

Peli passes him over into my arms and he fascinates me. This child who has the force buried deep within him. Where it is safe. But beneath that I can feel such great pain.

"Where did you find him?" I ask Mando and I feel his hesitance.

"It's a long story but I've kept him safe."

And that's all I need to know for the moment before I pass him back over.

"So this bounty hunter or Mandalorian or whatever it is," Peli begins. "Do you know where to find him?"

"A place called Mos Pelgo," he answers. "But I can't find it on any maps."

"It's not on any maps," I say. "But I know where it is."

"Great," he says seeming actually relieved. "We'll need some speeders."

"Hold up," Peli says stopping us. "You were just pointing blasters at each other a minute ago and now you're going to work together?"

We look at each other and shrug, it's always been my fathers teaching politeness and co-operation go a long way. Those are certainly not qualities from my mothers side.

"You'd be surprised how often that happens," he says, that going for both of us.

"No, I'm not surprised one bit knowing the two of you," Peli says, and both of us look at each other and then her, knowing if she trusts us that's enough for us.

Or at least enough trust to know we won't kill each other.

"Now where are those speeders?"

~

And so after borrowing those speeders we find ourselves walking into Mos Pelgo.

The people here watch us strangely but it's not everyday they see a Mandalorian.

Well actually if Boba's here that might not be accurate.

"How dangerous is he?" Mando asks while the child remains hidden in the bag.

"Extremely," I answer, feeling on edge despite trying to keep my mind calm. "But I can handle him."

"I want to see what he knows," he says and I know he only agreed because he's trying to track down other Mandalorians. For what who knows, chances are he's just searching for a covert. "You aren't killing him until then."

"Fine," I agree, knowing after all this time if I face him there will be words to be said before the weapons come out. "I want to have a word with him anyways, but it won't be pretty. You should have left the kid back at the hanger."

"He's seen worse."

We approach a bar and finally nerves begin to creep in. Five long years.

He fell into the belly of a sarlacc, I don't even know how he's alive but whatever's left of him can't be pretty and I can only imagine the grudge he must have.

He goes to walk in and I grab his arm to stop him. "What?"

"Let me take the lead here."

"You?" he asks incredulously and I have to remind myself that he's only sounding like that because he's a Mandalorian and I look like a civilian. Even so it doesn't help.

"Yes me," I say curtly, speaking with the tone of authority that is natural to me. "If he's in there then just follow my lead, no questions asked."

He mutters under his breath something that sounds like an agreement and I keep my hand on my saber as we walk in, but to my relief there's no sign of him.

Even with the helmet I can tell he's giving me an annoyed look and I shoot him a glare in return as we approach the bartender.

"We're looking for a Mandalorian."

"Well we don't get many visitors in these parts," the Bartender says. "Can you describe him?"

"Someone who looks like me," Mando says and I could almost laugh but it would be sad. A Mandalorian warrior would but not the men, women and children who died during the war.

Not people like my mother.

"You mean the Marshall?" he asks and whatever relief I had vanishes.

"The Marshall wears Mandalorian armour?" Mando asks and he looks to the door.

"Well see for yourself."

Immediately I whip my saber out and go cold at the sight of the armour. Armour I haven't seen in years.

But just as I ignite my saber I freeze.

It's his armour, but it's not him.

"Woah there missy," the man says. "Mind putting whatever that is down?"

I don't lower it. "Where the hell did you get that armour?"

"We had an agreement, put that thing down," Mando warns and from the quake in his voice I can tell he's never seen a lightsaber before.

"It's not him," I tell Mando. "so I doubt he'll be much help."

The man puts his hands up. "Alright you got me, I'm not a Mandalorian."

"Where did you get the armour?"

"Why don't you join me for a drink and we'll chat," he says removing his helmet and taking a seat but Mando and I don't move. "I've never met a real Mandalorian before but I've heard stories, I know you're good at killing and you're probably none too happy to see me wearing this hardwear. And you missy, what might you be?"

"Someone who is very good at killing," I answer knowing that most people have forgotten the Jedi, especially in the outer rims, or believe it only to be a myth of far away ancient sorcerers. "I'm here to make sure the man who that armour belonged to is still in the ground where I put him."

"From the way you pulled that thing on me I'm guessing that it was personal rather than business," he taunts with a wicked grin. "Come, drink. Looking at the two of you I figure only one of us is walking out of here." He looks past us to the child who is hiding. "But then I see the little guy over there and wonder if I picked you wrong. Well Mando here at least, you missy are a bit too trigger happy for my liking,"

"Call me missy again and I'll show you just how trigger happy I can be."

"Alright then, I suppose it's time for introductions," he says, kicking back comfortably. "I'm Cobb Vanth, Marshall of Moss Pelgo."

"Kyra Kenobi," I say then add at the stunned look of recognition on his face. "You can call me general."

"I'll be damned," he whistles. "Well we've got ourselves a rebel here, what is a war hero doing all the way out here?"

Mando looks at me and repeats in surprise. "General?"

"Best one in the rebellion from what I've heard," Cobb Vanth says taking a closer look at me. "They never said the infamous General Kenobi was such a pretty little lady but well I suppose the rest of your reputation overshadowed that fact. I'm guessing that thing you're holding's the laser sword."

"Yes," I answer leaning over the table towards him and he leans forward looking quite smug until the blade comes to rest near his neck. "It cuts through almost anything." I trail my finger along the burn I left on the breastplate. "It can leave a pretty scar as I'm sure you could imagine but if you need a demonstration I'd be happy to oblige."

Whatever smirk he wore quickly disappears. "My apologies General, it seems we've gotten off on the wrong foot."

"Indeed," I agree as I stand upright and look at Mando. I can feel his eyes on my saber and doubt he'll be questioning me now.

"Where did you get the armour?" Din asks him again and the helmet on the tables leaves me with a sick feeling. It's been five years since I've laid eyes on it.

"Bought it off some Jawas," he says pouring three drinks, while Mando doesn't go to remove his helmet I accept one.

"Bought it off some Jawas?" I repeat in disbelief, but can tell he's being truthful.

"Hand it over," Mando demands and while I know how protective Mandalorian warriors are over beskar I'm surprised by the threat in his voice.

Cobb Vanth just laughs to himself. "Look pal, I'm sure you call the shots where you're from, but around here I'm the one who tells folks what to do."

Mando steps forward and once again my thumb rests over my sabers ignition. "Take it off, or I will."

His voice has me averting my gaze as I take those words the wrong way and the room suddenly feels a lot warmer. My eyes fall right on Boba's helmet and it's a harsh reminder not to find myself intrigued by another damn bounty hunter in Mandalorian armour. Even if he does have an effect on me. Especially if he has an effect on me.

"We gonna do this in front of the kid?" Cobb asks gesturing to the kid on the floor who coos at us.

"He's seen worse," Mando says and something tells me that's more true than any of us could know.

Tension quickly builds within the room and Cobb starts to square up. "Right here?"

"Right here," Mando says with his hand on his blaster and a wicked smile spreads across my face as I come to his side, ready to put that armour back in the sand where it belongs.

That is until a deep rumbling disturbs us.

Cobb dashes out and after sharing a confused look Mando and I follow after him.

Something moves beneath the sands as the citizens of the town run for shelter. For a moment it's quiet and then my eyebrows shoot up as the creature emerges and swallows one of the livestock before disappearing once again.

Mando and I share another look and I say what we're both thinking "Well that's not good."

"No, it's not," Cobb says and looks at us. "Maybe we can all work something out."

~

We walk through the town as Cobb Vanth tells us the story of the Krayte dragon, one I'm familiar with having heard stories of them from my father.

"That creatures been terrorising these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established," he tells us. "Thanks to this armour I've been able to protect this town from bandits and sand people, but the Krayte Dragon's too much for me to take on alone." He looks at us expectantly. "Help me kill it and I'll give you the armour."

"Deal," Mando says before I can get a word in it but then again there's nothing to say. It's Boba I wanted to find, not the armour. "I'll ride back to my ship and blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait."

"Not so simple," he says and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Never is."

"The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground," he explains. "But I know where it lives."

"How far?" Mando asks while my eyes trail over Boba's armour. Wondering what came of the body that was once beneath it.

"Not far."

~

We ride to the cave.

We must be halfway there when I finally dare to ask "You said you got the armour from Jawas?"

And I listen as he tells us how the town fell alongside the Empire, how he trekked through the sands of Tatooine and was offered the armour by the Jawa's and used it to protect the settlement.

In my opinion he came to earn a Mandalorians armour however I can sense Mando disagrees. It's strange considering many Mandalorians would deem him worthy despite not being of Mandalore.

But that's not what concerns me, and I come to the conclusion that knowing doesn't leave me feeling any easier.

I still don't know what came of him but after all this time he has to be dead. That the Jawa's peeled it off whatever was left of his body.

We're riding through the canyons when Cobb slows down and raises a hand to stop us and we all hear it. The growling.

Immediately Mando and I jump off our bikes and use them as barricades as we ready our weapons. The instincts of a Mandalorian.

The growling's distant until it emerges. An ugly bastard that's for sure. Then a whole pack begins to approach.

I'm about to get my saber out when I hear it, a call. Cobb and I look back at Mando who made it. "What do you think you're doing?"

Neither of us question him any further as he climbs out from behind his bike and approaches the pack, probably feeling a little too safe beneath that beskar.

And I'm gaping at him as he starts to pet one of them.

It's then the sand people appear and I swear under my breath. I've had my encounters with them before but nothing quite like this.

I go to ignite my saber until Cobb shakes his head at me and we both continue watching.

Mando speaks Tuskan to them and while mine's a little rusty I can still pick up on enough of it.

Cobb however is just confused. "Hey partner, you want to tell me what's going on?"

"They want to kill the Krayt dragon too," I answer for him and we share an uncertain look.

"Then that settles it."

~

Night falls and we're at their camp.

"I spent a lot of my life on Tatooine while I was growing up, never thought I'd end up here that's for sure," I tell them. "But if they want to help we can't refuse."

"I don't know about that," Cobb comments offhandedly while Mando decides to be the pragmatic one here.

"We need to work out a truce with them to get this done."

"Alright so you two can speak sand people-"

"Tuskan," Mando corrects bluntly.

"Tuskan- right. So which one of you wants to negotiate?"

"I'm not one for politics," I say, repeating what I always do, what my father used to say to my mother when we'd get into those discussions. "I'm better at what I like to call aggressive negotiations."

But that would be a lie as well. I was raised to be a politician. But it's easier to say otherwise than to think of what could have been. Just as I'd told Leia before coming here

One day perhaps I might brave it but it's best to keep that part of my life hidden. It doesn't matter now anyways.

It's why I no longer go by Kryze. Just Kenobi.

"Well then I better do it," Mando says. "And no weapons, either of you."

Even so, as we sit to negotiate and strategise I'm the one that ends up taking the lead, it's natural to me after all those years as a General. I don't even realise I'm doing it until it strikes me that Mando's hardly said a word, that he's just sat and agreed with what I've proposed. Only stepping in if there's something I've missed in translation.

And when I've finished they offer us a drink of something strange.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Cobb asks.

"You drink it."

"It stinks."

I just roll my eyes at him and take the cup, taking it like a shot and getting it done with. Still, despite my best resolve I can't help but cough and splutter a bit.

"You're meant to sip it," Mando says and I can hear the amusement in his voice.

"You try to do it then, you'll be impressed." I offer it to him but he waves it off so I give it back to Cobb. "Drink."

He grimaces and Mando asks him. "Do you want their help?"

"Not if I have to drink this."

A Tuskan Raider stands and begins shouting at him, I let Mando translate that one.

"They say your people steal their water, and now you insult them by not drinking it." The sand person keeps on shouting. "They know about Mos Pelgo, they know about how many Sand People you killed."

The look on his face is incredulous. "They raided our village. I defended the town!"

"Lower your voice," Mando says to him but he's not having it.

"I knew this was a bad idea!" he snaps throwing the drink on the ground.

"We have a job to do, try not to upset them," I advise knowing as well as he does what the Sand People are but also knowing it won't end well if he decides to carry on.

"You're agitating them," Mando warns but he jumps to his feet.

"These monsters can't be reasoned with," he spits and yells as a Raider jumps up to fight. "Sit back down before I put a hole in ya!"

Just as I ignite my saber as a warning Mando goes all in activating the flame thrower on his armour and I've got to admit I'm impressed.

But it's as they look at me the raiders start screaming and running for cover. I'm bewildered until Mando says "Your laser sword, they don't like it."

"What?" I scoff in disbelief. "You bring out a whole flame thrower and it's my saber they don't like?"

But then he cocks his head at me as we overhear some of what they're saying, the legend of Skywalker and I choke a little. Of course Vader decided to terrorise Tuskan Raiders, of course he did, and I can't help but have to choke back an inappropriate laugh as I overhear them screaming to hide the children.

Oh maker does that explain a lot.

It would have had to have happened decades ago if it was before he became Vader and still the Sand People are terrified.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say raising my hands and they only scream louder at the sword being raised. "Sorry, sorry, look, it's gone," I call out as I put it away and raise my now weaponless hands. "I'm not like him, I'm not going to hurt you, trust me I hated him too, n fact I helped kill him so don't worry." They're still hiding the children and I panic. "Please- ah shit Mando can you translate."

He's trying not to laugh as he roughly translates what I'm saying, taking some liberties as he does. Only once they see that my sabers gone they slowly come back and Mando asks "Do you want me to take it from here?"

"Please."

And so he intervenes and takes over the negotiating.

"What are you telling them?" Cobb asks.

"The same thing I'm telling you. If we fight amongst ourselves the monster will kill us all." Cobb sits back down and Mando asks "How do we kill it?"

"Together," I answer looking at everyone sitting around. Looking at him. "We kill it together."

~

It grows late into the night and while most drift off to sleep Mando and I stay awake beside the fire. The child sleeps beside him.

"He's peaceful."

"For once."

I smile knowing Leia's said the same about Ben. That he'd be a little angel when I watched him but any other time he was just like his father. Or probably more accurately grandfather.

"How old is he?"

He just shakes his head as if he can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Fifty."

But I'm not surprised. "Yoda. He was nine hundred or so years old when he died."

"Nine hundred?" he exclaims and now I sound like the mad one. "Their species lives that long?"

"He was very old and well it showed."

"Who- who was he?" he asks, wanting to know more about the species. "How did you know him."

"My friend and I found him since he was an old friend of our fathers," I remember fondly. "As soon as we said our names he started whacking us with a stick, I swear the old thing gave up there and then as soon as we said our names. Skywalker and Kenobi. All he could remember was our fathers and that was enough for him. I think those two made him age an extra hundred before we ever found him." I laugh at the memories and look at the child. "I thought he was the only one of the species but it seems not. I wonder now if he knew."

"Do you think he did?"

"Honestly I don't know," I answer quietly. "He had given up at that point, he was a hermit living in a swamp. He just gave up and died as we were trying to get answers out of him, he was a bit dramatic really. This would have been six years ago maybe. I wish I could tell you more but I can't."

"It's alright," he says. "It's why I'm trying to find other Mandalorians, to see if they can lead me to his kind."

I'm confused. "Why would a Mandalorian be able to lead you to his kind?"

"It's just what I've been told," he says and I leave it there. "Until I can return him to his own kind he is my foundling."

The fondness in his voice is clear. "The child is attached to you, why don't you raise him?"

"He uh-" he begins trying to find the words. "He's a special kid."

I look over at him sleeping and know it's an understatement. I'm tempted to ask about just how special he is but I can feel how defensive he is when it comes to the child, especially considering he doesn't trust me. Not properly. Now's not the time.

"So tomorrow, we kill that dragon."

"Hopefully," he says. "Otherwise we'll end up in its stomach as well."

His humours dry but at least it's there and to be honest it's my type, blunt and honest.

"There are worse things."

"What's worse than being eaten alive?"

Again my mind drifts to Boba and his end but I quickly shut it out.

"I- yeah let's not get eaten alive."

We both laugh quietly and I look up at the stars as I did every night here on Tatooine, finding comfort that at least they haven't changed, and brace myself for tomorrow.

I haven't fought beside a Mandalorian since the purge. It seems so strange to find one in the desert of Tatooine. Whether it's luck or a twist of fate I don't know, but between him and the kid it's starting to feel more like fate.

[philicheesecake]

Refugees pt 1 (vore fic)

Note: this takes place with my two newest OCs, Zi and Baka. I might write more about them as their story comes to me. I haven’t given them an exact size yet, but for now I’m saying Baka is 7-9 ft tall while Zi is 4 ft tall.

Warnings: Soft attempted fatal vore, minor burns and injuries, but safe in the end. A lot of cursing and general stinky behavior from Baka

—————

It had been nearly a week hiding underground. The sewer systems were growing claustrophobic and the darkness only grew as the two travelers tried to conserve the energy of their flashlight. Food supplies had run out two days ago, and both of them were growing restless.

Prince Baka as usual seemed to not take the situation seriously. How could he? He was a sheltered spoiled brat who knew nothing of how the real world worked. Zi was only doing their best to try to keep him out of trouble.

But now starving, with no clean water supply, and lost within the winding dark tunnels, anything seemed preferable to dying in here.

Zi stepped ahead through the tunnels, ears twitching as  they listened out ahead for any sign of danger before motioning behind them to follow. There was a pause, but now steps forward. Only an exhausted groan. Then a splash.

Zi blinked in confusion, turning to see the prince trying to get up, having to crouch badly within the tunnels even as he got to his feet, due to his towering size. With the dimming flashlight shining towards his face, his weathered features could be seen. A crocodilian-esque being with three webbed crests spanning from his head to the tip of his tail. His green eyes were dry and exhausted.

"Mmmstarvin'. Fuckin starvin' down here," the prince bellowed weakly. "Can't go on like this..."

Zi sighed, stepping patiently over to the prince and mutely held out their hand to try to stabilize him to encourage him forward. The prince leaned his weight on Zi, before toppling over, splashing into the smelly sewage on top of the smaller creature. Zi coughed, wiping the contaminated water off of their face and grunted as they tried to crawl out from under the prince, trying again to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled, resisting the assistance, seeming set on dying here and now, in the midst of his toddler-like dramatic tantrum.

"Mmmwwwanna die then," Baka whined.

Zi grunted silently under their breath, managing to crawl out from beneath the prince and tugged on the side of his arm to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled dramatically once again, not wanting to move. "Lemme stay here. Don't wanna move... leave me to die..."

His stomach growled pleadingly, echoing through the dark tunnels. Zi sighed, letting the prince's arm splash to the ground like a ragdoll. They picked up the flashlight again and stood before the prince, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "Wait here,"

With a small bow of their head, they left through the tunnels, leaving Baka lying baffled in the puddles. Baka had told Zi to leave, but he hadn't really expected them to. Zi had sworn to serve him until they were freed. Did they just see the prince's death as their chance of freedom?

"You can't fffuckin tell mmme what to do!" The prince babbled. His voice only echoed uselessly through the sewers. He let out a whale-worthy moan and slumped back down in the puddles. He smelled awful. He hated the smell. He hated Zi. He hated his family. He hated the world. He hated everything. With this litany of hatred coursing through his mind, he slowly succumbed to sleep, believing this to be death at last.

A gentle hand shaking his shoulder was what brought him back to his senses, and the returning light of Zi's flashlight. Baka grumbled tiredly, closing his eyes again, not wanting to be brought back into this hell. He was perfectly content lying in this puddle and hating everything, and sleeping. He didn't have to exist in this disgusting sewer if his mind was somewhere else.

It seemed Zi had other plans, however. The smaller reptilian's soft voice insistent through the silent dripping ambience of the sewers. "There is a path leading to a river. We can get fresh water and fish there,"

The prince seemed reluctant at first, but anywhere but here was ideal. He was starving, and fish sounded better than nothing. He hoped it wasn't raw, though. He groaned as he lifted his head, reaching for Zi for assistance to get to his feet. Zi complied as well as they could, though they were just as equally deprived of strength, they just tried not to show it as much.

They led the prince to a low opening where the sewer runoff poured into a polluted river. It wasn't the sight that Baka had wished for, but anywhere was better than those sewers. He was never going in there again. Zi made sure the coast was clear before hopping softly into the river and nodded for the prince to follow. Baka collapsed into the running water, rolling a bit beneath the surface before resurfacing, refreshed to have his scales rid of the sewage slush and at least feeling a little cleaner. It seemed Zi had already done so before leading Baka there, visibly appearing cleaner in the better light. Although it was night out in the fresh air, the light from the stars and moons was almost overwhelming to get used to after being stuffed in the pitch darkness of the sewers for so long.

Zi frowned, looking into the river hopefully, though even in the darkness, they knew the prince was right. "We can at least collect some water here. But we can't stay out here for long."

"You fuckin cheated me," the prince growled. "You kept my fuckin hopes up this whole fuckin time. 'Just last one more day sir,' 'now isn't the time for cannibalism. I am here to serve you'  'tomorrow we'll have better luck' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' and again and again and again and AGAIN. I'm fuckin SICK of this disaster," he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "So you have to serve me one last fuckin time here. Help me out,"

Zi's brow furrowed slightly, showing the slightest trace of concern before stepping closer to take to the prince's side, seeming to assume that Baka needed some help standing. Baka's behavior altered, however, gripping Zi a little too tight for support, instead, bringing them closer and his mouth yawned wide above them, suddenly clamping his jaws over their shoulders. Zi was shocked, sucking in a surprised breath. The prince had mentioned eating Zi before while they were in the tunnels, but they hadn't considered that he would really do it. In panic, they struggled against the prince's grip, but he simply ignored it. The prince's mouth watered heavily, drenching Zi's upper half with sticky drool and drew them in deeper, beginning to swallow. The throat opened up before them and the slight jerking of the jaws forced Zi in deeper despite their protests. The tight throat dragged them downwards more quickly with each swallow and the shove of Baka's hands.

He didn't have long to enjoy this feast, however, when a beam of light shown down from the slope near the river and a team of uniformed armed men were all directed at him, quickly making their approach to surround him. The prince tried to sit up, wincing as the weight in his stomach sloshed and resettled from the action. "Can you just leave me for five fuckin minutes?" Baka grunted. The soldiers surrounded him and patted him down to search for any weapons, finding none, before binding his hands behind his back and led him up to their transport.

Sitting alone in the back of the high-security transport vehicle, he could feel Zi's struggles begin to weaken. They were just as weak as him, and he doubted they would last long. They seldom spoke normally, though he could hear their normally level voice sound out more fearful, albeit muffled, pleading for reason. The prince didn't bother listening, pressing a hand to his middle to coax them into digesting already.

"You're wasting your breath in there. You dragged me through fuckin hell, and now ya get your fuckin share of it," Baka grunted under his breath.

Zi went silent, hugging themselves in the hot, slimy darkness. Their struggles stopped, but their breathing was still fairly normal, a little panicked. They were probably trying to preserve energy.

"My service meant nothing?" They spoke quietly.

"Your service meant food that I should've given into a week ago," Baka grumbled. "And now we got captured anyways, so dragging me through those sewers was fuckin useless."

Zi went dead still, probably from disbelief, or despair, though it was hard telling their reaction without a visual. Not that Baka cared anyways. They should be dead soon.

The car came to a halt and the back doors opened from the truck. Armed guards led prince Baka through a sheriff's office, leading him to one of the back cells. They had been remote enough to be far from the capitol, so the police had to wait for the officials to show up before transporting him back to the new enemies' capitol.

For now, Baka slumped within the holding cell, lying back on the hard bed. "I don't wanna die... they're going to kill me," Baka spoke to himself, though his occupant heard. Ironic that he was complaining about dying while he was currently killing his most loyal and perhaps only ally.

"If you let me out, I can help... we can escape again," Zi offered hopefully, trying to keep emotion out of their voice. It was really beginning to sting in there, and the acid levels were steadily rising. The clenching walls persisted to grind the caustic fluids into Zi's exposed skin, and it was growing increasingly painful and unnerving.

"Mmmh, I don't wanna," Baka responded.

"Neither of us want to die, Baka. If we fail, we both die. If we succeed, we both live. If you kill me now, it would be inevitable for both of us,"

Baka groaned. He didn't respond for a moment, rubbing his gut almost mournfully. The acids were getting worse from this action, their level rising to fill half the chamber. Zi withheld a worried whimper in their throat, trying to keep their chin above the acids. The walls suddenly clenched tighter around the smaller reptile, painfully this time, nearly crushing their ribs, before the motion forced Zi back up the throat, carrying them upward with difficulty. The little breath they had collected was squeezed out of their lungs and they choked on the slime around them, nearly suffocating before their release.

A gagging sound and a glimmer of hopeful light beyond the jaws greeted them before they were coughed up onto the floor in a puddle of slime and acids. Zi gasped for air, shuddering violently and coughed up the slime that had caught in their throat. They dragged themselves across the floor to prop themselves against the wall of the cell, looking over at the prince with unveiled residual fear in their eyes.

Baka was on the floor lying on his stomach with drool dripping from his jaws, looking further nauseous and miserable. He let out a long drawn-out dramatic groan.

Zi hastily tried to wipe some of the slime off of their face, glancing down with a disgusted shudder to notice the nasty burns that marred their scales. They couldn't focus on that traumatic experience though, shakily getting to their feet. They stumbled over to the barred entrance of the holding cell, examining the lock and took out a lock pick, beginning to get to work.

A small click sounded once they succeeded, and they looked over at the prince, trying to help him to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, and Zi was almost too afraid to release him. Just as they helped Baka to his feet, alarms suddenly blared. They winced, ears flattening back and they looked towards the doorway fearfully.

"...fuck," Baka growled.

"We have to go," Zi went out the opening of cell, looking carefully down the hallway. Oddly, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and action was heard further within. Their brow furrowed in confusion, and they stepped silently into the main area of the police station, Baka dragging himself behind them with no regards for stealth, and seeming further interested in making as much of a dramatic scene as possible along the way.

The door opposing them suddenly swung open and several assorted armed men entered, not wearing the police uniforms, and appeared like standard civilians. Their eyes lit up in relief and one rushed forward to greet the freed prisoners with a bow. "Prince Baka, please come with us. We're here to help, and we're loyal to your line to the end,"

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Two: Shrinking Solution

A/N: This is the second part to my fanficiton ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write!

Pairing: Seveurs Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2664

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

A week had passed since Severus Snape had stormed out of her grandfather's office in a fit of rage, and Aria concluded that it was time she broke the silence between her and her future mentor. Although Snape and Aria both resided in the Dungeons they had not crossed paths as Severus rarely left his office or his private quarters. She was sure he had the house elves deliver his meals to his office or else he just did not eat. As Dumbledore constantly left the castle grounds this meant Aria often travelled down to eat with Hagrid, the only remaining current resident of Hogwarts. The two of them had become good friends, however this did not stop her searching for friendship among Severus, in the hopes of easing their future working relationship.

Aria left her own private quarters, strolling along the dungeon corridors to Professor Snape's a few doors down from her own. Pacing between his office and his private quarters Aria contemplated whether he would be relaxing in his room or working in his office. Having only met the man once she nevertheless knew exactly where he'd be. Rocking on her heels for a second or two she took a moment to gather her thoughts before knocking confidently on the door.

"Enter." The monotone voice droned after a moment of consideration.

Aria Dumbledore walked into the crowded office covered wall to wall in potion bottles and jarred ingredients. To the back of the room sat behind a desk was a mass of black robes and hair, bent over a stack of books and parchment, scribbling notes furiously onto the parchment. Aria stood there for a minute or two waiting for the professor to look up at her. She wanted him to listen to what she had to say and she wouldn't believe he was truly listening until he faced her.

"Well?" He spoke, face still down towards his notes. "Get on with it."

"I will do so, as soon as I know you are paying attention to me." She spoke clearly, standing firmly on her spot in the middle of the room.

"I'm listening." He droned, scribbling away.

"No." She spoke a little louder, her voice more confident than it had ever been in his presence. this caught his attention. "I want you to look at me, so I know your listening."

Severus nodded in return, motioning for her continue.

"Good." She began, returning his nod, once again trying to remember what she had planned to say. She had been completely thrown off by his reaction to her new position at Hogwarts. From the moment she knew Severus would be arriving at Hogwarts she had made plans in her head to get to know him and his routine. She had hoped they could make a few potions together in order to get more familiar with each other rhythms. She had not yet given up this hope but she knew now it would be a lot harder than she had initially expected. Finally she decided simply being honest with him was the best way to go about it. "I understand this arrangement isn't ideal for you, and I do not agree with the way Professor Dumbledore sprung it on you like that." She started.

"You mean your grandfather." Severus look cut in, his eyes slightly rolling in his head.

Aria cleared her throat, waiting to continue. "As I was saying. I do not want to ruffle any feathers with my being here, however I need this job and there is nothing we can do about it now, so you might as well accept that. Now, in order to familiarise me with your routine I was hoping for the next three weeks or so before term starts that would you tutor me. I just think that it would make the classes flow a lot better if we sort out all of the kinks now rather than later."

"Well, thanks to you and your grandfather I am not sure I will have time to, as you say, 'tutor you'. I have had to complete re-write my entire class curriculum. I am afraid I will be far too busy until the beginning of term. You will simply have to adapt to my way of teaching, whether you like it or not." He droned, turning back to his stack of papers.

Impatiently Aria bit her lip, letting out a small sigh, unsure of where to go from there.

"Like I said, teach me your ways and you will not have to rewrite your entire schedule." She spoke through slightly gritted teeth, becoming annoyed at his lack of cooperation. "We will meet three times a week; Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. No exceptions. I'll see you then." She stated, finally taking control of the situation, leaving the room before the Professor could argue.

* As she arose from her sleep on Tuesday morning Aria opted to dress in more formal attire for her meetings with Professor Snape, as after all this would be a professional interaction, or at least she hoped.

Not wanting to intrude on the man too early in the morning she waited until 1 o'clock in the day, assuming they both would have eaten by then. As the clock stuck 1 she clutched her notebook to her chest and confidently strode along to the professors office.

Aria had spent the previous days carefully planning out a mix of activities and topics to cover in the event that Snape tried to turn her away once more. She was happy with her plan and was confident that Snape could not deem it a waste of either of their time. This thought at the forefront of her brain she gave his door a loud knock before taking it upon herself to enter.

The Potions Master instantly rose from his seat upon her entry, thrusting a stack of parchments into her hands, and immediately set off on a long winded speech he had clearly prepared previously.

She stood aghast by the mans abruptness, staring at him blankly. It was the first time she had properly looked at him since their first meeting. He was tall, taller than she had initially assumed and he towered over her, intimidatingly. He was muscular too, she thought as she focused in on the person standing before her, taking details she had never before noticed. Without the protection of his robes she was able to see his biceps threatening to burst through the material of his black undercoat. Her eyes continued to travel up his body, past his chest that practically touched her own, finally meeting the gaze of the Professor. She instantly noted the exhaustion evident on his face, remembering back to her grandfathers comment on his lack of sleep she guessed the reason for this was not solely caused by the hefty workload of the school year. Despite his tired looking features Aria found his looks intriguing. He was handsome in an interesting sort of way, not in the traditional sense for sure but there was definitely something there, something that made her want to get to know the man more than she expected he would let her.

Severus found himself becoming more and more distracted, losing himself in the woman's eyes as he too fell into a dangerous train of thought.

"Are you paying attention, Miss Dumbledore?" Snape snapped himself back to reality, bringing back Aria with him. She gave herself a shake, her eyes widening realising she had not heard a word the man had spoke.

"Yes. Erm.., no. I'm sorry Severus." Aria stuttered, the blush on her face forming from embarrassment and shame.

"Professor Snape." He corrected, taking a step or too back from her, busying his eyes, focusing them anywhere but on his apprentice. "I will not spend the year repeating myself, Miss Dumbledore. If you cannot prove yourself worthy of this position I'm afraid I cannot work with you. Now, do as I say and we shall get along perfectly fine." He finished, regaining his seat behind his desk, shuffling through yet another stack of papers.

"Actually Professor Snape, I had prepared some tasks for us to get through, myself." Aria begun. "For example, I was hoping today you could go over each years curriculum for the year with me and we could note areas in which I need some revision, which we could tackle later in the week."

"Had you been paying attention, Miss Dumbledore, you would notice that the years curriculum is noted on that stack of parchment I handed you upon your entry. Which I might add showed a complete lack of respect and basic manners. You will knock and wait to be called upon before entering my office from here on out, is that clear." Snape commanded.

Aria glanced at the stack of parchment, noticing the detail in which Snape had gone over the class schedules, it obviously took some time and she was embarrassed she had been too distracted to notice previously. "I apologise, Professor." She said, feeling more like a student being reprimanded than his equal.

The Professor gave a slight nod in response. "In regards to the areas you may need to review, you will have to outline them in your own time, we will visit them at a later date. I do not wish to waste my time with such frivolous things that could so easily been done alone. " He stressed the final word.

It was Arias turn to nod.

The young woman was shocked to find the Professor so prepared for today's meeting, although she was glad he seemed so invested in the cause, she secretly knew he had put in so much effort in order to regain control of the situation. Clearly Aria taking command a few days earlier had not sat right with him.

"As for today." Snape continued. "I have set a task for you to complete, to allow me to analyse your potion making skills as well as your method of brewing."

"Perfect." Aria chirped trying so hard to remember the promise she has made to herself. The man intimidated her she could not hide that fact, but that did not mean she was not a very skilled potioneer. She was determined to prove her abilities to the Professor in the hopes that she gain his respect and therefore develop a balanced working relationship. "What will I be making?" She inquired, taking a step forward towards the Professors desk.

"Shrinking solution." He spoke simply. "I assume, or rather hope, you will not be in need of a recipe? Or should I look out the students text books now and save us both from creating a batch of poison."

"There is no need to be insulting Professor, I am more than capable of brewing a standard OWL level potion. Where will I find my ingredients?" She asked.

Severus Snape lightly rolled his eyes at the young Professor as he focused in on the tattered book in front of him, simply letting out a small grunt and pointing in the directions of a store cupboard off to his left.

Aria ignored her so-called mentor and immediately set to work.

At first Severus let her do her own thing, getting the potion up and running before he decided to interfere and evaluate her work.

He watched intensely as she removed five large and hairy caterpillars from their jar. Skeptically, he emerged from behind his desk, turning up the pressure on Miss Dumbledore.

Unable to contain himself he started to speak. "It helps if you -"

"What? Slice the caterpillars to achieve maximum blood flow." Aria interrupted proudly, knowing he was trying to test her skills. "Surely that would be common knowledge Professor. Now tell me do you prefer to slice horizontally or vertically?" Her confidence getting the better of her.

"It hardly matters." Snape scoffed, displeased by his efforts to belittle the witch.

"Oh I disagree entirely. I found that slicing vertically is not nearly as effective as horizontally. If your doing it vertically.. why it's hardly worth cutting the poor buggers up in the first place." She smirked, feeling like she had achieved a small victory.

The two professors remained silent for a few moments more, allowing Aria to continue her potion while Snape inspected her closely, occasionally jotting down notes and crossing off his personal checklist.

"Don't you have leech juice stocked in your cupboards?" Aria wondered aloud, absentmindedly stirring her concoction.

"I'm sorry?" Severus replied, wondering what she was getting at.

"As you know the recipe calls for the juice of four leeches, though I prefer five." She added slyly. "I had just assumed that a seasoned Potions Master such as yourself would keep readily preserved leech juice in his store cupboard, as this is a staple potion in any school curriculum."

"I prefer to juice my leeches fresh, when it comes to preparing a shrinking solution." Severus admitted through gritted teeth, stunned at the woman's audacity to contradict his methods, when he was supposed to be the one testing her.

"Well each to their own I suppose, I just find it wastes an awful lot of time during the brewing process when a batch of leech juice could easily be prepared beforehand for a many number of potions." Aria Dumbledore shrugged, shooting an innocent smile at her colleague before painstakingly juicing each individual leech directly into the cauldron.

After adding one more shrivelfig and an extra caterpillar, horizontally sliced of course, it was time to let the potion simmer until it reached that perfect green colour Snape anticipated.

And with a wave of her wand the potion was completed to absolute perfection. Aria was confident Severus could find no flaw in her work, although she was slightly nervous that their minor disagreements would only make him more irritable, thus making it more difficult for Aria to gain the approval she now craved.

After five minutes of stirring, testing and inspecting Severus could find no fault with the professor's work to criticise. With a slight hum he returned to his desk, intentionally avoiding looking in the woman's direction.

"As it is, you managed not to create an abomination, therefore I have nothing more to say. Your work is average. I will do what I can to cooperate with you as it seems I have been given no other choice. We are done for the day, you may leave."

"What just like that, and were done? There's so much more we could get through the day is young." Aria pleaded. "I made the perfect potion for you surely that is worthy of your time."

"The perfect potion is expected, Miss Dumbledore. Had you done any less than perfect you would not be qualified to work here. Potion making is an exact science, with very minimal room for creativity. You and I may be daring enough to tread on that line but I have had years of experience, you on the other hand cannot afford the risk of creativity. One day your ego will get the better of you and you may make an irreversible mistake. I suggest you stick to the textbook recipes in the future." Severus raged. He did not appreciate her disobedience or her expectation of a reward for simply doing as she was asked. He saw her open her mouth to object however he managed to get the first and final word in for the night. "Good day, Miss Dumbledore, I have work to get on with." He spat.

And with that he began scribbling some more illegible notes onto his parchment, waiting on the woman to vacate his office.

She stood for a second almost in shock at his rudeness but she had hardly expected any less from him. She supposed she had pushed him far enough for one day and chose to listen to his orders. After all there was not long to go until Hagrid expected her at his home from their meal.

Taglist: 

@ayamenimthiriel​ 

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 7

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: Fem!OC/Spencer

word count: 4.3k

idc if i've used this gif before it's AMAZING and i love it.

masterlist

somewhat unfortunately, Halloween rolls around. between the most intense case of my career and the rest of the ones that have come in, the meaningless holiday has barely crossed my mind. it's only Penny's eager reminder to find a costume that brings it to the front of my mind. I could half-ass it and pick something stupid, but then I would feel bad. everyone else in the office is just so excited about it, I don't want to be a sour influence. 

plus, we deserve to have some fun. 

I decide on a simple costume and on the 31st of October, I find myself in Penelope Garcia's bathroom with a tube of cherry red lip gloss and a somewhat reluctant expression. 

"oh, c'mon." her voice is muffled through the door.

"quick question," I tighten the scarlet string around my neck, looking at myself in the mirror. "how full-out did you go?" 

"baby, you know I only go to the extreme." she quips. I roll my eyes playfully, then open the bathroom door, stepping into the purple hallway with what can only be feigned confidence. 

it's not that I don't look pretty; I think I look good. but it's the sheer silliness of it that makes my walk a little less than proud. I stopped dressing up for Halloween before I hit twelve. and now I'm twirling (at Penelope's command) in a short dress. 

"I'm not even joking, Little Red: you look hot." she says, eyeing me up and down. there's an enormous purple seashell clipped in her blonde curls, sparkles all over her skin. she looks exactly like herself-- beautiful and whimsical in every aspect. 

"thanks." I blush. 

"come show us!" JJ calls from the living room. Emily would be with us, but she said she had to run an errand beforehand. I glance at Penelope once and widen my eyes. why am I so nervous? I'm acting like a child. 

"go on, then!" Pen practically shoves me forward and I stumble a bit in my heels before walking out of the hallway and making my grand entrance by the couch. JJ is holding an enormous bowl of popcorn, dressed like Britney Spears. her jaw drops. 

"do a spin!" she squeals. I do so, and the red cape flutters around me like the petals of a blooming flower. she sets the bowl down, claps. "I love it!" 

"thanks." when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on her wall, my cheeks are rosy. my hair tumbles over my shoulders and the cut of my dress is a bit low, but the cleavage is actually kind of a good addition. red ribbon falls just to my décolletage, a slight tease. 

"we should head out soon, though," JJ checks her phone. "wouldn't want Hotch to leave by the time we arrive."

"is he even coming?" I ask. 

"said he would. Pen made quite the case for herself." JJ pops a kernel into her mouth and I look to the tech analyst, who has a mischievous smirk on her candy pink lips. she raises an eyebrow. 

"I told him I'd bring candy corn."

"seriously?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice. didn't realize someone that serious could be plied with the promise of candy. 

"yes, now come on." Penny scoops up her purse, which is shaped like a giant pearl, and goes to her cabinet to grab the candy corn. before long, we're out the door, chattering aimlessly on our way to the office. 

when we get there, I start to get nervous. although I'm not sure why, I get self-conscious about my dress and hood, about the secret black garter around my thigh. it's my personal secret, something I wore for myself. 

there are a few decorations up. some people from around the office are talking, and everyone is dressed to the nines. Garcia opens the door for me and I head straight for Emily's desk, where the rest of the team is gathered. Rossi works his way through a handful of hard candies in his palm. Emily is stunning in her black cat costume.  

"hey, you guys." she breaks into a grin when she sees JJ and Pen and me, the rest of the group parting to look at us. my eyes snag on Spencer, with his Frankenstein mask resting on the top of his head so he can talk normally. even Hotch is pleased to see the three of us. 

"thanks, Garcia!" he cheers as she hands him the bag of candy corn. 

"you know, you're lucky he left the house for that." Rossi raises his eyebrows and points at the unit chief. 

"oh, we know." JJ smirks. 

"you look great!" Emily gives each of us a hug. she smells like something slightly spicy and warm, a nice scent that makes me want to hold on tighter. I don't know how to explain it; Prentiss has a very calming presence to me. I always find myself hanging around her whenever I need to decompress after cases, even if it just means talking about regular life. 

"you do, too!" I grab a handful of caramel corn from the bowl she offers. "it looks pretty nice in here, actually." 

"don't sound so surprised. think we couldn't handle a few decorations and snacks?" Rossi questions. it's getting easier to be around him now, honestly. despite my initial hesitance about his seniority, he's never made me feel small for my lack of experience in this specific field. 

"she's against the whole holiday." Garcia makes a face as she berates me. Spencer shakes his head like I'm insane.

"that's not true!" I protest. "I never said I was against it, I just don't get why people are so excited about Halloween every year." 

"because it's fun." Spencer speaks up. I roll my eyes. 

"I'm not convinced." 

"well, I'm glad you said so, because I've actually planned a little activity for us!" Garcia is practically bursting with excitement as she says it, like she's been holding it in the whole evening. she probably has. 

my stomach twists. to be honest, I had been hoping for a relaxing evening and then an early night. an "activity" sounds like it'll interrupt those plans. but she's so elated that I can't help smiling. 

"what is it?" Prentiss feigns wariness. 

"well," Garcia simpers in a way that makes me think we're in for an interesting night. "I took the liberty of hiding certain candies around the office last night before we went home." 

"hiding them?" JJ repeats with a smirk. 

"in little plastic pumpkin cases. they're absolutely adorable, like Easter egg size--" 

"you're sending us on an Easter egg hunt?" Rossi looks at her disbelievingly. I let out a nonplussed noise. Penelope is ready to defend herself, however, pointing a finger at him and sounding as firm as she can manage. 

"it's going to be cute, dammit. whoever gets the most candies gets a special surprise at the end." 

"what's the surprise?" Emily asks. 

"it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" Penelope replies. 

there's a silence in the circle as we all try to figure out how to react. it's childish, for sure. nobody is arguing that point; but it also sounds kind of not that bad to me.

"oh come on, guys!" she addresses our lack of enthusiasm. "we've had a hard couple of weeks. let's at least try and have some fun." 

JJ starts to laugh, putting her arm around the tech analyst's waist while she snuggles into her shoulder. 

"if it'll make you happy, Pen." 

"it will!" Garcia nods vigorously and turns to us. I catch myself breaking into a smile. there are much worse things than going on a Halloween candy hunt, especially given the usual circumstances of being in the office. 

"alright!" I throw up my hands and Emily is next to concede. Spencer has been quiet this whole time, but he straightens up from his usual slouching position and tries to hide the grin spreading over his lips. Rossi and Hotch glance at each other. 

"alright." the Italian shrugs. 

"what do we have to do, then?" I ask. 

"well, there are a bunch of pumpkins hidden all over. you'll know them when you see them." she clasps her hands together. "I'm timing you, too, so you're going to have half an hour." 

"wait a second," Emily frowns. "what if some of the other people who aren't in on it find the candies first?" 

there's a sound of general assent from all of us. we aren't the only employees here. Penelope doesn't seem bothered by this, however. 

"then I guess you'd better move fast." she pulls out her phone and presses a button, and we disperse with a quickness that really does make me feel like a kid again. I never did Easter egg hunts as a child, but this is a welcome distraction. low stakes competition. 

I start to wander around, starting at my desk. there's a pumpkin behind my computer monitor, and one in my desk drawer, although that's it for my personal workspace. my feet carry me to other place around the office, my fingers trailing over the tops of cabinets and under desks. Penelope sits in Prentiss' chair with a sucker-- a smug, luminous mermaid as she watches all of us scramble. 

"you got Hotch to search for hidden candy. impressive." I pass her on my way to Anderson's desk. she hasn't hidden anything in too private a place, but maybe there's something in his paperclip dish. 

"I'm a witch." she wiggles her brows. 

"I thought you were a mermaid." I wink. she grabs the hem of my dress and tugs on it. 

"just go find your candy, silly." 

"is there anything in Hotch's office?" I nod towards the almost intimidating room. her eyes flicker around to see who might be around us. fortunately, everyone is too wrapped up in their current task to even look our way. I look like I'm just wasting time. 

"you didn't hear it from me," she whispers. "but yes." 

a sparkle of satisfaction burns in my chest.

"love you, Penny." I make my way towards the office. the door is shut and the actual usual inhabitant of it hasn't gone inside, so he must have overlooked the idea that Garcia would hide candy in there. I'm sure they'll be easy finds, too, since she's terrified of crossing any boundaries with him and wouldn't press her luck by touching his things. 

I head over to the couch by the door and see a plastic pumpkin resting on the table next to it, nestled between the wall and the surface. 

"ha!" I snatch the thing up, then keep poking around. there's another one on the bookshelf. without anywhere else to put them, I put the found objects in the hood of my cape, dropping them in before moving onto the next. 

I'm under the desk when I hear the door get pushed open slightly more. my head pops up from the inconspicuous spot and there's Reid, pockets stuffed while he peers around the space. 

"hey." I say. he jumps when he sees me kneeling on the floor. 

"oh, hi," he frowns. "why are you on the ground?"

I grab the little orange pumpkin package that's tucked against one of the desk legs, then show him smugly. "winning." 

"how many do you have?" he pretends to be curious, but I can sense an undercurrent of competitiveness. I stand and shrug. he eyes my costume to see if I have any spots that hint at a candy stash. he doesn't think to check the hood of my cape. 

"that's for me to know and you to find out." 

Spencer squints briefly. "are you secretly good at this?" 

"am I?" I raise my eyebrows. "don't try to profile me, Reid." 

"I'm not profiling you!" he lets out one of those rare laughs, the musical sound that lives in his throat. I wish he would laugh more; there's something kind of cute about his face when he does. 

"mhmm." I say doubtfully and come to stand in front of him. "let's see it, then." 

"see what?"

"what you have so far." I say the words and he immediately places his hands over his pockets. 

"no way! you didn't show me yours." he protests quickly. I wrinkle my nose. 

"oh come on, Reid." I roll my eyes. "if you show me yours, I'll show you where I keep mine." 

he watches me skeptically again. "why?" 

"because I think we could be allies." 

there's a silence after the suggestion. truthfully, the idea just popped into my head. we could win pretty easily, though, if we coordinate.

"really?" the corners of his lips flicker upwards. he's unsure whether or not he should give in.

"are you kidding? with your smartness and my generally conniving nature, we could really do some damage." I tease. he giggles. 

"I've never heard someone describe themselves as conniving." 

"call it self-awareness," I smirk. "are you in or not?" 

he glances behind him at the bullpen, our friends still searching for the pumpkin packages while Garcia twists a pen between her fingers. when she wants to, she can look intimidating. I raise an eyebrow and wait for Spencer's response. his face turns to mine. those irises are such a pretty shade. 

"okay." 

"alright, boy genius!" I cheer, then reach up to undo my cape. he looks slightly panicked for a second as I undo the red ribbon, but relaxes when I grab the hood and show him the stash of pumpkins. "see?"

it’s crammed with orange packages.

“that's pretty smart." he admits with an impressed smile.

"right?" I agree. "come on, then. I think I've practically swept this place clean." 

he follows me out the door in our search. 

...

by the time the thirty minutes are up, Spencer and I have made shocking progress in consolidating our supply. we've decided that if we beat everyone, we'll share the surprise. if it's something we can't split, we'll rock-paper-scissors for victory (two out of three, of course). but I'm not too concerned about it. 

when we wander over to Penelope's spot at the desk, we're practically strutting. 

"someone's confident." she notes. I take my cape off again and slam the thing down on the surface. Spencer has an amused look on his face. 

we ended up spending a lot of time arguing about the best spots to hide candy, though I mostly let him take the lead— in terms of hiding places, he's been here longer and knows more than I do. and, unrelated, but he's pretty funny when he's not busy thinking about a case. his references are a little nerdy, but I kind of enjoy listening to the explanations. 

"we kicked ass." I cross my arms over my chest and Spencer nods. everyone around us is suspicious; JJ points between us. 

"did you two team up?" 

"maybe." I glance at Spencer, who's already looking at me to gauge my reaction to the question. 

"that's cheating!" JJ laughs. Spencer shakes his head. 

"actually, Garcia never laid out any formal rules for the game."

"mhmm!" I nod in agreement, grateful to have him there with his factual authority. JJ sighs, but nobody can stay mad at Spencer. we share a grin before Emily eyes the separate piles on the desk. 

Garcia went out of her way to hide a lot of treats. that said, it's clear that the combined amount from Reid and me beats out everyone else's. we high five once she announces us the official winners. 

"what's our prize?" Spencer asks as everyone lightheartedly boo's our victory. 

"a gift card to that new fried chicken place that we ordered from a while ago." Garcia presents a shiny plastic card to me. it's a great treat, honestly, becuase I'm hungry and takeout is one of my favorite things in the world. 

the team congratulates us on our win and things start to wind down. Hotch makes an excuse to get home and Rossi muses about a pack of cigars that await him. I feel the energy in the office start to dissipate, but now I feel like I'm on a bit of a victory high. I got all dressed up and now everyone wants to leave? disappointing.

as Prentiss and JJ shrug on their coats, I run my fingertip over the edge of the gift card. Spencer is packing some extra books into his bag. he told me to keep the gift card and that it wasn't a big deal, but I don't feel right not sharing. especially not when we didn’t rock-paper-scissors for it.

"Reid." I walk over to his spot, lean against the desk. he glances up in surprise. 

"yeah?"

"do you wanna share this with me?" I wave the reward in the air. his brows draw together for a fraction of a second. he seems confused. 

"right now?" 

"sure, why not?" I gesture to the bullpen, which is emptying quickly. "it's not even that late." 

he checks his watch as if to confirm my assertion, then stuffs his slim wrists into his pockets and stares at me for a second. I start to get the sense he’s going to say no, and something in me sinks. his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. he's got his mouth open a lot. "y-yeah, that sounds fun." 

I nod at the good news. "okay, cool. I'm too lazy to actually drive there, so I'll just order delivery?"

"okay." he gives me a small smile while I pull out my phone to call the place. I'm a little bit glad that it's just us. 

...

"try it." I pop the plastic cover off the sauce cup before setting it next to him. 

"that looks gross." Spencer shakes his head quickly through a mouthful of food. my jaw drops and I snatch the sauce right back, dipping the chicken into it and taking a hefty bite. 

"it's literally the perfect combination of salty and smooth." I protest. Reid looks dubious, however, and leans his head back against the side of the desk. we started the evening in the swivel chairs, but we're both fidgety at heart and now we're on the floor. 

he takes a swig of his drink. "I never knew lemonade could taste so good." 

"same." I laugh. "can I have your sauce thing, then?" 

he responds by dismissively pushing the thing over to me. we're sitting side-by-side, and somehow I think that's easier for him. we don't have to look each other in the eyes as we talk. 

"I'm proud of us." I announce. Spencer snorts. 

"why?" 

"we found so much candy! which we can now eat for dessert." I reach up to grab my cape off my desk, and the hood thuds to the ground. 

"we're a good team." he says it lightheartedly. Spencer is right, though; we work really well together on cases. it makes sense that it would translate into candy hunts. he's way smarter than I am, but it functions well. 

"we should do the Amazing Race." 

"I don't think either of us would like that." he takes a bite of his fry and I finish up the last of my chicken. 

"you wanna hear a secret?" my head turns to his. 

"what?" he reciprocates. his features appear especially delicate right now, almost suspended. I can see a darkness in his lids that contradicts the youth of his mien. I'm so close, I could kiss his nose if I wanted to. I don't, but I could. 

"aside from the team aspect, I don't really know what the Amazing Race is." I giggle. Spencer breaks into a laugh and turns away again, filling the office with the sound. I blush.

"then why did you bring it up?" his voice gets slightly high-pitched when he tries to speak through it. 

"I don't know, I feel like people say that all the time." 

"nobody has ever asked me to be in the Amazing Race with them." Spencer is still giggling when he looks over at me. I bite my lip before asking the thing that plagues me. 

"so, what is it?"

"the Amazing Race?"

"no, Newton's Laws." I deadpan. "yes, the Amazing Race." 

he throws his hands up and I chuckle. he straightens. 

"it's a reality game show where they race to travel the world." 

"that's it? no stats for me, genius boy?" I gesture for him to elaborate. Spencer shrugs. 

"I don't really care about reality shows." 

"you don't--" I blink exaggeratedly, as if the fact is shocking. "you don't care about reality shows?"

"we get enough reality here as it is."

"oh, Spence...." I sigh. "there are few things faker than reality tv."

"why do you like them?" he's genuinely curious. I see the glimmer of the Work Spencer with which I've become familiar. always trying to get under the surface, digging for answers even when they don't seem immediately relevant. 

"I like to turn my brain off sometimes, you know?" I close the lid of my food and take a drink of my lemonade while I wait for him to respond. although he doesn't look at me as he nods, I can tell he understands what I mean. if anything, he knows the feeling better than I do. 

"yeah, I get that." 

"everyone just acts really stupid and they care way too much about things that usually, like, don't even matter. it's sort of comforting in a weird, depressing, god-I'm-glad-that's-not-me way." 

"that's interesting," he peeks over at me for just a second. "you know, there's actually been studies done that show people with higher annual incomes suffer from higher levels of depression and anxiety."

"I believe it." I make a noncommittal sound and reach into the hood of my cape to grab a piece of candy. with the movement, I shift and the hem of my dress lifts enough to expose the garter on my thigh, and the object tucked within it. Reid's eyes pass briefly over me, but he does a double-take when he sees the thing. 

"is that--?" he points at my leg. I hitch up the garment a little so I can remove the knife that's been pressed to my thigh the whole evening. 

"a weapon? yeah, technically." I chuckle. Spencer's jaw drops in disbelief. even as I hold it in my hands, he seems afraid to touch it. 

it's not really a weapon. I got it from one of my friends as a gift a while ago, a lovely little resin dagger that's filled with red flower petals and gold flakes. it glints under the office lights. 

"you're really not supposed to have that in here." he gulps, glances up at the corners of the room, where I'm sure security cameras are mounted. I hand it to him, pressing the blade into his palm. 

"then stop looking at all the cameras so suspiciously." I scoff. he turns a bit to look at the thing, tilts the edges under the glow to examine it with a strange expression. his long, elegant fingers move over the handle.  

"where did you get this?" 

"it was a present. it's not dangerous." I shrug. the edges are pretty dull; it's more of a decorative piece. I would equate its actual risk level to that of a particularly pointy pen. 

"why did you bring it?" he hands it to me gingerly, our hands touching briefly before I slide it back into the garter on my thigh. his eyes follow my movements, and something in my stomach flips unexpectedly. 

"I collect them." 

"knives?" he doesn't seem taken aback, only interested, judging by the way he frowns quizzically. I nod and face him.

"yeah. I started as a kid, but I have a whole variety of them-- antique, new, ornate, plain-- I love 'em all." I explain enthusiastically. Spencer opens his mouth and I realize that he must have a million questions. he always has a million questions. 

"why knives?" 

I pull my mouth to the side of my face. it's not like there's some deep, dark reason behind my predilection for collecting sharp objects. and I’ve tried to answer that question myself, always coming up empty. some things people just... like. "I don't know." 

like I've put a damper over the conversation. 

"o-oh." Spencer's eyes drop into his lap, where he's been fidgeting with his hands for the past couple minutes. he thinks I'm withholding, that he's crossed some sort of line. my heart sinks. 

"I'm serious, Reid-- I don't know." I laugh it off. "I just think they're cool the same way that you think math is cool." 

"math is cool." he looks up for a second to smile. I nudge his shoulder with mine. his slight frame means he almost tips over and I laugh.  

"hard disagree, but sure."

Spencer stretches his legs out before him, and I'm reminded of how tall he is. he's prone to slouching, so it's easy to forget that his body is actually pretty lengthy. when he taps his Converse together absently, I notice the different colors of his socks. one has watermelon slices and the other has the Road Runner on them.  

"I like your mask, by the way." I compliment. 

"oh, you mean this?" he tugs the thing down over his face. it's gruesome, really, tinged green with baggy skin below the eye holes. I make a disgusted face and push his shoulder away from me.  

"ew!" 

"something wrong?" he uses a funny monster voice when he says it, wiggling his fingers playfully. I cackle. he’s never done that.

"god, that thing is ugly." 

Spencer removes the mask again, a ghost of a grin on his face. for all of his shyness, he's enjoying himself right now. 

we sit there in silence for a bit, cracking open the plastic pumpkin packages that Garcia has stuffed with all sorts of candy. we trade jelly beans like currency, blue raspberry for orange and anything remotely citrus-flavored that he loves. he doesn't mind taking them from my open palm, which fills me with a strangely warm feeling. 

I realize that there's more to Spencer's anxiety than germs, a thin layer of something that he lays between each person and himself. we don't talk about weighty subjects; we aren't friends like that-- not yet, anyway. but I'm glad that he feels alright with this kind of proximity.

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Going Underground - Edited Version. Part 3.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​

Zero to Six ~ Part 1. Edited Version. Materlist. ​

​​

It was exactly one month after Zero had last seen One in her flat, she had flown back home two days after the incident and hadn’t heard from him since. Apart from tickets emailed to her for Las Vegas and a hotel room that she assumed was where their next mission was going to be. 

She’d flown out to Vegas a few days back, part of her was glad that she hadn’t had to converse with him. She was still incredibly upset that just the thought of hearing his voice nearly put her into a fit of rage. She kept all contact to a minimum while throwing herself fully into her research, she’d only kept in regular contact with Three and Five, although Four would randomly drop in to annoy her. 

She’d woken up at about 10am, she hopped out of bed only for the purpose of making food. Once the pancakes had finished cooking she hopped back into the comfort of her bed and opened her laptop, she went back and forth eating and doing research. The next time she found herself looking at the clock it was 12:30pm, it took all of her will power to drag herself back out of bed to put her plate and utensils in the dishwasher and then into the bathroom for a shower. When she reemerged from the steaming room she was greeted by the ding that signalled she had a email. 

She opened it and the first thing that caught her attention was that it was from One. Sighing she knew that she couldn’t ignore it, for it might have been something really important. 

‘Meet me at the Golden Cafe down the street at 17:00 sharp, make sure to wear something that won’t draw attention to you. Wear a black cap.  P.s Remember don’t say anything the others about this. -One.’

‘Don’t wear anything that will draw attention to you.’ who the hell did One think she was? She really had to calm herself down before she went to meet him. If this meeting was going to go well, she would have to have a level head around him.

“Ah Zero, you’re online. To be fair I should have guessed as you’re always online.” She slightly jumped as Fours deep voice burst through the speakers. 

“Jesus Four.” She put a hand over her heart to calm herself down. 

He started to laugh. “Did I startle you darling?” She huffed and plopped down on the bed next to her laptop so she could connect the earpiece and speak to him properly. 

“No, I just wasn’t concentrating fully that’s all.” She glanced at the time again, It was still early she furrowed her brow confused. “What are you doing up so early anyway? I thought you always stayed up late doing dodgy stuff on the internet?” 

He just scoffed at her in disbelief. “Excuse me darling, but who do you take me for?” 

“She’s not wrong though is she? I think I’ve accidentally walked in on you enough times to say that, that is the truth.” Two chimed in, to which Four immediately started up his defence. 

Zero just laid back in her bed and basked in the happiness that was, to her a family argument. 

Four had the last word though. “Oh shut up Two! I bet you’ve seen worse, Wait a second How do you know what I’m doing on a night?” 

Zero all but gasped. “Is that a confession Four? And I might have to carry out routine security checks on the bases internet. Which means looking through some of your histories.” 

“Jesus woman.” 

She couldn’t help but giggle at how worried Four sounded, knowing that she could see everything he searched on the internet. “Look I’m just doing my job, I’m just keeping everyone safe.” 

“But you’re basically stalking me.” Four hissed. 

Zero clicked her tongue. “Did you not hear me sweetie? I HAVE to look into your history for security reasons. Don’t get all shy on me now Four, plus your history isn’t even the spiciest.” 

“So who’s the worst then?” 

She laughed, like she was going to tell him that. “That sir, I can’t disclose.” 

“You’re no fun Zero, I thought we told each other everything.” She could hear the pout in his voice and she wished she could see his adorable face. 

“Oh we tell each other everything do we?” She laughed. “Then how come I didn’t know you had a marking kink?” 

“LISTEN STOP STALKING ME! I SWEAR TO GOD ZERO! JUST YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU I’L-” Just like that she cut off the coms laughing hysterically at Fours outburst. 

Looking to the clock she noticed that she just had enough time to change and dry her hair before she had to make her way to the cafe.

When she finally made it to the cafe she spotted One straight away, he was stood by the counter. When they made eye contact he ushered her to follow him to the furthest booth in the back of the shop. 

“Why did we meet here? Why didn’t you just come up to the hotel room?” She whispered as she sat down by the side of him.

“Because I’m here, and he doesn’t want me to know where he’s keeping you.” Zero’s head shot up to the second voice, she looked at one expecting him to instantly tell her who this other woman was.

But her brain finally caught up to her and it registered the accent. “Five?” She said in disbelief.

She quickly snapped back to One who seemed more interested in the phone in his hand then on the meeting. “I thought you said I couldn’t tell the others about this?”  

“He asked me to help you get ready for tonight.” Five had now moved around the back of One’s chair and took a seat. 

“Tonight?” Zero’s brows furred in confusion. “You mean the mission is tonight?” 

“Yes.” One said still more immersed in his phone, It was starting to piss her off. “Did I not mention that in the email this morning?” 

Zero gritted her teeth. “No, you made no mention that a big mission, not to mention my first ever mission would be tonight.” 

Finally he peered up from his phone to see Zero angrily staring him down. “Okay look.” Finally the phone landed on the table. “It’s simple really, You’re going to be working as a bartender. Which luckily for you, you already have experience in. Serve drinks to anyone that comes up to the bar, start conversations, ask questions but most importantly listen to the conversations around you. People get drunk at these things and spill shit that their not suppose to, and so the rest of the team aren’t suspicious your coms will be off when you start your shift.”

“What will you tell them? Isn’t it going to be more suspicious that I’m not at the end of coms?” She looked between One and Five. 

“It’s not really a tech based mission, I’ll just say I gave you the night off.” He shrugged. 

“What about the others? Where will they be?” By that she meant where would Four be, but she wasn’t going to outright say that, not in front of One at least.

“Two and Three have their own little mission in the hotel, Seven will be taking a backseat and Four and Five will be working the floor in the club you’ll be serving.” She looked to Five at the mention of Four, her eyes lit up. “AH! Don’t even think about it, off limits Zero.” 

She just scoffed at him, he acted like he was her real father sometimes. “As if I didn’t know that already, I’m not a child One. I can handle myself.” 

“Yeah well I’m trusting you, don’t fuck this up Zero. Five has everything prepared for you she’s going to leave first, you wait twenty minutes then follow her to the hotel. Room 374, she’ll get you ready for tonight.” 

One got up from his seat without a single sound, he nodded at both the women and then headed for the door.  It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Zero looked over at Five, they just smiled at each other. With all the information she had just consumed she hadn’t even stopped to think that she was actually in the presence of one of her family members, one that wasn’t One!

“This is crazy.” 

Five just smiled at her, a genuinely beautiful smile that Zero couldn’t help but return. “It’s so nice to finally put a face to the voice.” She looked down at her watch and sighed. “We shouldn’t do this here though, I’m going to leave now I’ll meet you at the hotel. Room 374 remember.” 

“Got it! I’ll meet you there.” She couldn’t stop smiling as Five got up and waved her goodbye. 

The twenty minutes she waited to follow Five were the longest twenty minutes she’d ever had to wait in her life, it seemed to drag on she was so nervous she had to physically hold her knee down to stop her leg from shaking. 

The walk to the hotel didn’t take too long and she reached the lobby in no time, she put on the dark cap paired with some black shades. Nothing too out of the ordinary but it kept her face hidden none the less.  Once she walked inside she was in awe, she’d never seen the inside of such an expensive and vast hotel. It was absolutely beautiful, she dreaded to think what a room would cost in this place. As she walked further in she lowered her glasses to get a better look at the foyer her eyes were glued to the ceiling so she didn’t know she was on a collision path with a tall beefy guy who was looking down at his phone until they hit one another and she nearly went flying. Luckily he had reacted in time and broke her fall, though her glasses weren’t so lucky. 

She got up and brushed herself off. “God I’m so sorry mami!” Her head shot up at the familiar voice. 

Staring back at her was Three, she quickly had to remind herself who she was and where she was. “No problem, I think we were both at fault, I was mesmerised by the ceiling and you by your phone.” The first accent that came to mind was an Irish one, so she went with it. 

He just nodded in agreement and gave her a lopsided smile. “Ah! here, you dropped these.” He bent down and handed her back her sunglasses. 

“Thanks, sorry again.” She smiled at him one last time then scurried off to the elevators. 

Once she was secured and alone in the metal box she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, and sighed. This was going to be one hell of a long night.  Her thoughts were interrupted when the elevator dinged, she rushed down the hall and knocked hurriedly on the door labelled 374. She had no intentions of bumping into anyone else, not even a second later Five opened the door and Zero rushed inside.

“Woah, what happened? Are you okay?” Zero moved to the couch in the room and laid down, burrowing her face in her hands. 

“I just accidentally bumped into Three downstairs.” She sided eyed Five who looked at her in shock. “Don’t worry I don’t think he knew who I was, I put on an Irish accent. Don’t tell One though he’ll probably pull me from the mission if he finds out.” 

Before Five could even respond to her, Zero took notice of her laptop and ear piece on the table in front of her when it started to crackle. “Hey party people, are we all ready for tonight? It’s a shame I won’t get to hear your beautiful voice in my ear tonight Zero, can’t believe that One has actually given you the night off.” 

She reached out and took the earpiece. “Don’t be too sad Four, at least you’ll be able to actually concentrate on this mission.” She looked up at Five who was just giggling, It was so strange to actually be in the same room as her. Zero smiled, she could get use to this. 

“Who I’m I going to piss off tonight though?” She could practically hear the pout in his voice. 

“I’m sure you’ll find some beautiful girl to have on your arm and piss off the entire night.” She felt sad just thinking about it. “Well good luck team, do me proud! and don’t miss me too much.” She shut the communication line down before he could respond. 

She looked up to Five as she shut the laptop and took out her ear piece, placing it on top of the laptop. She wouldn’t be needing that now for the rest of the night.

“You okay?” Five gave her a sad smile.

Zero forced herself to look completely unphased. “I’m fine, let’s go get ready.” 

.....

Zero stood at the bar, Five had dressed her in black skinny jeans paired with some black Doc Marten boots, a black silk button up and a deep green velvet waistcoat. She wore a dark black wig that came down to her chest and flowed in light curls, her makeup was smoky to match the uniform. She looks professional. The venue was dark, with moody but classy lighting which meant she blended right in.  The bartender role came naturally to Zero, before she was a ghost she had worked in a small bar for about two years before everything had kicked off, the events of which led her here. 

She started the shift by just cleaning up glasses, serving mostly already drunk customers and listening to every word of every conversation. About five minutes early she had spotted Five enter the room with a rich looking man on her arm, she’d caught Zero’s eye from across the room and winked at her which put her at ease. 

Suddenly the air in the room shifted, she couldn’t explain it but her eyes were drawn to the entrance of the club. A man walked in, his blonde hair was slicked back on the top but the sides where shaven. A tight black tux hugged his body, Zero wished she could picture this moment for the rest of her life, butterflies started to stir in her stomach.

It was Four. 

[gardenofdelight]

Forget Me Not

Sir Vergil goes on a quest to find a flower of legend for his beloved lady.

Here’s my drabble for DMC OC Week Day 3: Alternate Universe/Past & Future! Hope you enjoy this Medieval AU! 😘

Many knights of old have gone down in history for their heroic deeds and dangerous quests. The most memorable knight in this land is Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight, and his eldest son lives up to the legacy of his father with his feats of valor. 

Tales of Sir Vergil’s bravery has earned him the respect of the peerage, but the same cannot be said for him. Most of the nobles seem like sniveling fools to him, only caring about their own wealth and the comforts it affords. Many of them have approached him with some frivolous quests unbefitting of a knight of his caliber...but only one managed to convince him with her infuriating persistence. 

Lady Lisandra stood out from the rest of the peerage; she talked not of wealth, but the world beyond and its undiscovered mysteries as well as the joys of literature. And she forgoes the propriety of a noble lady, preferring to wear a circlet of flowers instead of jewels around her head and never addressing him as someone of a lower station. Her lack of good manners and refinement irked the judgmental knight, but he cannot deny that he enjoys her company; it’s a pleasant respite from insipid chatter of the peerage, which is why he eventually accepted her impassioned request to find a legendary flower. 

Sir Vergil expected to go on this simple quest alone...but he found Lady Lisandra waiting by his trusty steed. And after a quick exchange of concerned and exasperated words, he vowed to protect her from any harm that might befall her before setting off into the misty morn. The Lady insisted on riding with him, claiming they would cover more ground if she sat astride his steed behind him. It’s unheard of for a lady to ride in such a manner, but he relented since he did not want her falling behind on a much slower steed. 

They rode for hours, only stopping to forage for food in various fields and forests. The Lady’s knowledge of nature impressed the stoic knight as she picked berries and edible flowers. And her beauty among the rustic country is utterly hypnotizing; he already admired her delicate features during their many conversations, but her rose red hair shining in the sun and her olive-green eyes sparkling with wonder...he couldn’t help but to compare her loveliness to the ethereal splendor of an exquisite rose blooming in an untamed wilderness.   

Stay focused! he chided himself as they set out once more. Thou art on a quest, not courting a lady well above your station! 

Sir Vergil spurred his steed to make haste until well past noon. The Lady gasped as he came to halt at a promising field of flourish flowers.                

“Alas, we’ve come upon a wild green yonder!” she exclaimed in delight as he dismounted his steed. “Surely there must be a flower of legend here, Vergil!”

“Wouldst thou kindly address me formally for once?” he inquired, barely containing the irritability in his voice while reaching up to assist her.

Lady Lisandra leans down with an impish smile. “Only if thee loses the glower and smells the flowers!”

Sir Vergil scoffs as he lifts her up off his steed. “Why must the Lady irritate me so?” he wondered aloud while setting her down gently on the ground.  

“‘Tis the only way to motivate my knight for the quest before us,” she replied with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “Now, come! Let us search by the river first!” 

The Lady gathers up her dress before sprinting off without a care in the world. Sir Vergil’s grumbling rebuke about running ahead without a proper escort makes her laugh as she frolics through the vibrant wildflowers. She had hoped this quest would help him open up a little, maybe even see him smile now that they are far away from the rabble of the peerage...but the stern frown and critical brow upon his handsome face seems to be permanent. 

Sir Vergil may be an intimidating knight with a renowned reputation, but she has seen a glimpse of the passionate soul behind his austere facade. And perhaps finding a rare flower of legend will have the power to grant her wish of seeing an adoring smile grace his lips.

They looked around while walking along the bank of the river at a safe distance. Lady Lisandra picked a few flowers as Sir Vergil remained ever vigilant by her side. And although every bloom was beautiful in their own way...they weren’t the most remarkable either. So, they continued their search until coming upon a peculiar spray of flowers dangerously close to the river.

“‘Tis there! Oh, how lovely!” she gasped as their pale blue petals beckoned her to come closer with a gentle sway in the breeze. 

Sir Vergil halted her approach with a protective arm around her waist. “‘Tis much too dangerous for a lady to be near a roaring river.”  

Lady Lisandra looked up at her knight with pleading eyes. “If I cannot pick the flower we seek, then perhaps thee will?”

“Only if the Lady keeps thy distance whilst I retrieve them,” he offered while directing her well away from the river.  

The Lady nodded and clutched the bouquet of wildflowers close to her chest as Sir Vergil approached the river. Then, he kneeled down and began picking the delicate flowers with utmost care. He noted that they were the only blue blooms in the field, so small yet extraordinary among its fellow flowers.

These could very well be flowers of legend, he surmised while his heart raced with the thought of bestowing these wondrous blooms to Lady Lisandra. 

All seemed well as he rose from the ground, but a stray rock knocked him off balance as he turned back towards the Lady. Her cry of distress echoed through the field as he fell into the river, instantly sinking under the weight of his own armor. He struggled to stay afloat, but it was useless; he knew this river would be his watery grave. But his honor as a knight urged him to throw the legendary flowers to the Lady, completing his quest while shouting his final words before succumbing to his inevitable death. 

“Forget me not!”

Lady Lisandra rushed towards the river, ignoring the beautiful blue blooms scattered on the ground as she searched for her knight in the water. I need to save him! she thought as soon as she spotted him. But how? He’s too heavy for me to lift so long as his armor is- Her eyes widened as she remembered the dagger in Sir Vergil’s boot. 

That’s it! she decided while untying her dress before stripping down to her undergarments. Then, she dived into the river without a second thought, quickly swimming down towards the knight who was staring up at her in awe. She grabbed the dagger hidden in his boot and began cutting the straps of his armor, pushing each piece out the way until he was light enough to carry. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe as she picked up his sword before lifting him back up to the surface.    

Lady Lisandra gasped for air while swimming back to the riverbank with her knight in tow. Her arms shake weakly as she drags him out before laying him among the legendary flowers. “Please...thou must breathe!” she whimpered urgently while patting her knight’s back. He coughed up some water between desperate breaths before turning his astonished gaze towards her. 

“Never have I seen such foolishness from a noble lady,” he murmured with no trace of anger in his voice as he reached up to caress her cheek.  

The Lady’s lower lip quivered as her eyes glistened with happy tears. “And never have I seen such dedication from a noble knight,” she whispered while nuzzling her cheek against his hand. 

An adoring smile graced his lips as he picked up one of the legendary flowers. “This charming bloom is unfamiliar to me...but retrieving it from the perils of the river was worth it so long it pleases my lady.”

“S-sir Vergil,” she stuttered as her cheeks turned as red as her hair. “‘Tis not the flower that pleases me.”

“My lady has finally addressed me by my formal title,” he chuckled softly while bestowing the delicate flower to her.  

“And thou has finally gifted me what I desired most,” she replied, barely glancing at the legendary flower as she stared down at him in total admiration. 

Sir Vergil sat up and for the very first time...he sought what he desired most ever since he encountered the Lady with a fondness for flowers and stoic knights. Both of their lips brushed against each other before meeting in a kiss so gentle and pressing sweet. And as they basked in the affection and devotion tying them together, they vowed to never leave the other’s side so long as they lived. 

“Forget me not, my beloved.”

“Forget me not, my darling knight.”    

🌹🌹🌹

The idea for this drabble is based off of the medieval legend of how the forget me not flower got its name,

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [8]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now Posted: Chapter 8, in which Dante has to face the most intimidating creature of all... his wife.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter 8: Dante Sparda, Legendary Demon Hunter

Dante pulls up outside of Vergil’s house and turns off the car. They sit in silence for a long moment before he says, “Thanks again for what you did back there.”

“You’re welcome.”

His brother’s voice shakes a bit, but it seems like he’s holding onto control, even if it’s barely. Which is something at least. “It’s funny,” Dante jokes, “you’ve used Summoned Swords on me half a dozen times at least, and this might be the first time you used it to save me.”

“Summoned Swords,” Vergil murmurs. “Is that what that’s called?”

“It’s what you called it in my world. Although it’s a bit different there.”

Vergil nods, and silence settles again. Dante scratches his chin as he searches for what to say. “You know, Nero can do it too. Surprised the hell out of me the first time I saw it.”

“Nero.” Vergil turns his face to the window. “I should get inside.”

“Yeah. But, Verge…” Dante sighs as Vergil looks back at him. It is obvious his brother needs him now: he needs comfort, reassurance, something to help him process everything and come to terms with the truth. He needs wisdom. He needs tact and compassion.

Damn it all. “I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Dante says. “Then we’ll look for dad.”

“Yeah.”

Vergil reaches for the car door and Dante blurts out, “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll find him. And if any demons show up, you can use Yamato. You’re a better fighter than I am, so you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not a swordsman, Dante,” he grumbles. “I haven’t fought with anyone since we were children.”

“But you can. And Mary can too. She’s a way more successful demon hunter than I am.” Vergil frowns at him, but Dante continues, encouraged, “She kicked both our asses. She’s always got some demon on the run, knows how to use dozens of weapons and make her own even. And Nero? He’s got all kinds of crazy power. He was demon hunting before he even knew how.”

“Nero’s just a child.”

“Yeah, here he is, but in my time, he’s older, and I’ve seen him in action. Took down a whole evil god robot once.” Vergil huffs and shakes his head as Dante leans his elbow on the steering wheel. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry. You didn’t think you could fight but then you skewered that guy. So trust that they can handle themselves. And your V, Vitale? He’s not… I don’t know him, he’s not from where I’m from, but if he’s anything like you, then he’s got this too.”

Vergil glances at him briefly before nodding. Then he opens the car door and climbs out, and Dante watches as he hurries up the driveway to his front door, still clutching the sword.

Dante heaves a long sigh before starting the car again. On the drive to home, he wonders what he’s going to do about Lir. He’s still not entirely sure she’s not a demon too, so if he comes clean with her, there’s no telling she won’t attack him just like the bar waitress.

His questions are answered when he walks in the front door. “Dante? Dante!” Lir practically runs to greet him from the kitchen. “There you are! What happened? Are you okay?”

Before he can answer she pulls him into a hug, forcing him to bend over so she can press her cheek to his. “Dante,” she murmurs, and he feels a pang of guilt as he returns the hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m okay.” He eases up and pushes her hair back from her face. “Why were you worried?”

“Your mom called all frantic. She said your father ran off and broke a window and in his study… there was…” Lir’s voice trails away as she examines his front, and Dante glances down. There are splatters of blood on his jacket and shirt, and he steps back as she gapes. “She said there was blood on the floor. What happened?”

Her eyes are wide with alarm as they rise to meet his. “Let me get cleaned up and I’ll explain.”

Dante eases past her and heads to the kitchen. Lir follows, hanging back in the doorway as he moves to the sink. He uses the minute to think as he runs his hands under the hot water, taking a few pumps of dish soap to clean the blood away. He shuts off the faucet and grabs a dish towel, drying them as he turns to face her.

He leans against the kitchen counter and swallows thickly. “Mom was upset, huh?”

“Very.” Lir takes a step closer before hesitating. “What happened?”

“We… fought. It’s fine,” he says hurriedly, holding up a palm as she opens her mouth. “My dad’s been keeping secrets and I confronted him. It didn’t go well.”

“Secrets?” she asks. “What kind of secrets?”

Dante folds his arms with a sigh. “He’s not who he says he is. He’s… something else.”

“Something else? What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not human.”

He waits for a long moment to let the news absorb. Lir stares at him with wide eyes, and he notices how her fingers tremble as she reaches out to brace against one of the chairs at the little breakfast table. “He’s not human,” she murmurs.

Dante nods and she tilts her head towards him. “And the blood?”

He glances down at his soiled shirt. “That was my mistake. Dad was lying and I wanted him to tell Vergil the truth. So I stabbed him with a sword.”

“You stabbed him?”

“Yeah. He was fine though. Got right up.” Dante chuckles. “Shoulda seen the look on his face. Serves the old man right. He kept refusing to come clean, and I—”

“Dante.” His mouth snaps shut as she sinks into the chair, looking pale. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t all his blood.” Lir looks up sharply as he spreads his arms. “Vergil and I got a drink afterwards and got attacked by a couple of demons in the bar. Had to kill a waitress and all I had was a chair leg, if you can believe it. Luckily Vergil came through. Wasn’t that bad, he killed the bartender.”

“You killed a waitress?”

Dante winces. “Okay, it sounds really bad when you say it like that. But they were demons, I swear.” He starts to walk towards her, and Lir scrambles up, pressing back against the wall. The fear on her face makes him freeze, and he watches as her eyes start to tear up. “Hey, relax. Really. It’s gonna be fine.”

He takes another step and Lir launches herself across the kitchen, diving for the knife block. She pulls a long bread knife from its slot and spins, holding it out like a magic wand as if to ward him off. “Don’t come any closer!” she shrieks.

“Okay. Obviously I’m telling this story wrong.” Dante holds up his palms. “I’m not gonna hurt you. See?”

“You’re crazy!” she cries. “Demons? Killing?” He rolls his eyes and she shakes her head furiously. “Stay away from me!”

She steps to the side, keeping pressed against the counter, as she fishes her cell phone from her pocket. Dante frowns as she swipes it on. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the police.”

Her voice has an edge now, and Dante can see she’s a dangerous mixture of frightened and furious. “I’ll just go,” he suggests.

Lir shoots him a look to kill as she raises the phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes? Yes, I need the police, my husband—”

As she speaks, something catches Dante’s attention, like a pinprick on his neck. His head turns just as the ceiling explodes in a shower of drywall, the window shattering as something breaks through. Lir screams and he sees her drop the phone in the corner of his eye, and Dante steps between her and the two demons that now stand towering in their kitchen.

He looks up at the hole in the ceiling and grits his teeth when he sees the sky. “We have a fucking door you know,” he growls.

“Dante!”

Lir’s voice is wild with panic, and he holds out a hand. He curses silently, knowing her being here is going to just make this harder. It’s bad enough to fight a demon when a human is around, but now his instinct to protect her is screaming loud enough in his head to drown out any reason. He’s got to get her safe, and then he can deal with them.

“Lir, I want you to run.”

“What?”

“Get to the front door and run. Now!”

He doesn’t know if she obeys because at that moment they advance. Once again he tries to summon Rebellion, and again he realizes he’s left it in the damn car. Two sets of teeth and four sets of claws come for him with a screech, and then Dante is dodging, throwing one punch after another as he tries to make a plan. One of the demons picks up the toaster and throws it at him, making him duck. It sails over his head and implants into the wall behind him. “What the hell!”

One of the demons grabs his leg, pulling him to the ground. Dante lurches to the counter as he falls and grabs a drawer, yanking it free with one pull. He prays it has something he can use, but inside are dish towels. “Damn it,” he mutters, but he swings the drawer, which breaks with a spray of splinters as it hits one demon full on the face. It falls back and lets his leg go, and Dante scrambles to his feet, pulling open another cabinet.

This one has plates at least, so he grabs the stack and throws them one by one at the other demon. They explode in its face, the porcelain shattering loudly as it falls in pieces to the floor, but they disorient it enough that Dante can deliver a kick that sends it sailing across the kitchen. Before the two demons can recover, he lunges at the knife block, and with a steak knife in each hand, he quickly dispatches them both, slitting their heads open, both collapsing in a pool of dark blood.

Dante catches his breath and drops the two knives in the sink. When he turns, he finds Lir on the ground, her knees drawn up as she gapes at him.

“Lir…” he murmurs with a wince. They stare at each other for a long moment, and he takes in the pieces of drywall stuck in her hair, the way her shoulders shake, the bright flush on her face. But she’s alive, that’s all that matters. The rest of this shit he can explain, and fix, and make up to her.

Just then, there is the sound of someone talking, and they both look down at the phone on the ground. It looks like it takes a half minute for her to remember what it is, but then she jerks it up to her ear. “Hello? Hello, yes I’m here. No, no, everything’s fine.” Her eyes are wide as they take in the mess now that it’s settled, but her voice is steady. “I thought my husband was hurt, but he’s fine. A cabinet fell over in the kitchen, that was all the commotion. I’m so sorry.” She listens for a moment and then says, “Really, it’s not necessary. We’re fine.”

Dante takes a deep breath as she finishes the call, looking out the hole in the wall where the window used to be. He scans the darkness for any more demons, but his senses don’t pick anything else up. Lir says goodbye, and he glances over as she presses a finger to the screen before slowly setting the phone on the ground.

Their gazes connect, and he feels a twist in his chest as he sees tears swimming in her eyes. But then Lir scrambles towards him, and he catches her in a tight hug, her face pressed to his neck. Dante gives a small smile as he holds her closely, rubbing a soothing hand on her back as her breath shakes against his skin.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“So that’s everything.” Dante looks over at the passenger side, where Lir stares straight ahead. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Her eyes fall to where her hands sit in her lap. “So you’re not Dante? My husband?”

“I guess not,” he replies. “I mean, I’m Dante, but I don’t know if I’m him or if he’s me or if…” He rubs his face and glances at the clock on the dashboard which shows it’s nearly midnight. The gas station they had pulled into is deserted, and the light from the shelters over the pumps gives enough light that he can see the pained expression on her face. “Sorry. I keep saying the wrong thing. And uh, I guess I should apologize… for the other night—”

“No, it’s…” She glances over, almost shyly, and Dante’s heart skips a beat. “You’re still him, just not him him. I think.”

“Right.” He chuckles humorlessly with a half smile. “You hungry?”

Lir shakes her head. “Not really. I’m exhausted.”

“Let’s get some rest then.” He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading down the nearly empty street. After a few turns he finds a little motel, and Lir luckily doesn’t argue when he parks. She stops to grab the bag she had packed in haste before they fled the house as he heads into the office, emerging a minute later with a room key. “Funny, the guy didn’t blink twice even though I’m a mess,” he jokes.

Dante grabs Rebellion from the trunk, remembering this time, before he leads her to room six.  But he hesitates when he slides the key into the lock. “I guess I should have gotten two rooms?” he murmurs.

“No. I don’t want to be alone.” She presses her hand on his back lightly. “It’s fine.”

He nods as they enter, flicking on the lights as Lir follows inside. There is a Queen-sized bed in the middle, a television, a chair and table, and Lir shrugs off her jacket before opening the bag. She pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, holding them out to him. “Do you want to get cleaned up?”

“Yeah.” Lir doesn’t look up at him as he takes the clothes, and not knowing what else to say, he heads into the bathroom.

His reflection is a mess, his hair sticky strands covered in blood and dirt. His face and neck aren’t much better, and as he strips off his clothes, he thinks about what he must have looked like arriving home like that. “This is why I never got married,” he mutters to himself as he turns on the faucet. “Too much trouble.”

His dialogue continues as he starts the shower and unwraps the little bar of free soap, listing the reasons why a relationship and marriage don’t mix with demon hunting: too much blood. Too much laundry. Too many questions. Weapons. Blood. Death.

He leans his forearm on the tile, watching as red swirls around the drain until the water goes clear. Stupid fucking wish, he thinks. This life he had always wanted? It’s not possible, and he needs to accept that and move on. He had no idea what he was asking for, Dante realizes.

It makes sense, really, he tells himself as he towels off. After all, Lady didn’t have anybody. Neither did Trish. Whoever Nero’s mother was, it couldn’t have lasted long before Vergil was gone, if his brother even knew he had a kid in the first place. Too much liability when you have someone in your life. He remembers Lir’s scream as the demons crashed into their home, the way the fear hit in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. But Nero has managed it, hasn’t he? He has Kyrie, and goes home to her every night, blood and guts and all. Dante frowns, wondering if it’s not meant to last. It would kill the kid to lose her.

Sparda, Vergil, him, now Nero… their whole family, one after another, losing someone close before disappearing too. Like some big cosmic joke.

Lir is curled up on the pillows, the lights off and the television on. She pulls back the covers when he climbs up to join her, and Dante smiles a bit when she repositions herself with her head on his chest and her arms tightly wrapped around him. “This okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Dante snorts. “Nah. It’s a crazy story, I know.”

“I pulled a knife on you.”

“Not the first time someone’s done that.”

Lir stiffens a bit before lifting her head. She looks at him sadly, but he grins. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You didn’t tell me who I am,” she says.

Dante glances away with a shrug. “I don’t know you in my time. We never met.”

“Oh.” She lays her head back down against his shoulder, and Dante settles his hand on her hip. “I’m glad we got to meet here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Dante listens as Lir’s breathing goes steady, her body sinking against him as she falls asleep. He stays awake, watching the light behind the curtain grow darker before slowly turning gray. By the time the sun comes up, his decision is made.