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sjsmith56 · 8 days

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More Than a Client - A Private Man, Chapter 3

Summary: Tracey admits that she has become emotionally involved with Bucky. Before she’s free to date him there is a two month cooling off period with no contact. While she is gone, an incident occurs.

Length: 4.3 K

Characters, Bucky, Rebecca, Tracey, Amina, Marie.

Warnings: Some angst from Bucky. Intervention in a crime.

Author notes: I’ve tried to show a “normal” sibling relationship between Bucky and Rebecca. She likes to tease him but she loves him dearly. He loves her just as much but doesn’t quite know how to respond to her teasing. Shukran lika – Arabic for thank you [from Google Translate].

<<Chapter 2

☕️ 🍪 🍕

On Tuesday Amina showed up at 1:30 to watch Rebecca, bringing some ingredients with her to do some more baking for them. When Bucky offered to pay her for her efforts she put her hand out in opposition.

"No, Mr. Bucky," she stated. "I bake because I like you and Mrs. Rebecca. You are friends and it is my pleasure to bake for my friends."

"But you do so much already," he said. "We were strangers 10 days ago."

"In my religion there is a saying," she replied. "If you help someone, Allah helps you. Someday my family will need help and I am ensuring that I will receive it."

"You're very kind," replied Bucky. "Shukran lika."

"You're very welcome. Now go to your meeting. Say hello to Miss Tracey Harris." He looked surprised at her. "You think none of us noticed the looks between you? She is a good woman and needs a good man. You can be good for each other. Go, don't be late."

Shaking his head Bucky left for the coffee shop, located a few blocks away. He arrived first and ordered himself a regular coffee. Nursing it, he waited patiently. When Tracey arrived he stood up and pulled a chair out for her.

"What would you like?" he asked. "My treat."

"Um, a caffè latte, please," she said. "I wouldn't mind a snack. I didn't get lunch today. Just a muffin, perhaps."

Bucky nodded and ordered her coffee and a carrot muffin. He waited for the coffee and brought it the table. Sitting across from her he sipped his drink.

"Foggy Nelson came yesterday," he said. "Rebecca really likes him. He suggested a different way to make sure I get the house, joint tenancy with survivorship ... something like that. It means my name goes on the deed and if anything happens to Rebecca then I'm her immediate survivor. She is still doing a will for her personal possessions. He's also going to look into my back pay claim. I won't hold my breath on that."

"He is very passionate about his job," said Tracey. "He and his partner have helped a lot of people who have lost faith in the system. If he can get your back pay settled you could switch to day shift and live a more normal life. That's your goal isn't it? A normal life with your sister?"

"I guess," replied Bucky, trying not to stare too much. "I haven't really had a normal life since the 40s. Not sure I remember how to live one. Although I guess if I switched to day shift I could start dating, if I met someone who would go out with me. I tried the dating apps but ...."

He stopped, embarrassed at telling her what type of woman swiped right on his profile in the dating apps. She smiled sympathetically.

"I can understand what you're going through," she said, "more than you think. I've been divorced for four years and I think I've had maybe four dates in all that time. Two of them wanted me to go home with them right away and were angry that they spent money on me and I didn't put out." Bucky frowned at that admission. "One was angry over his own divorce and spent the entire date complaining about women who were out to emasculate men."

She stopped and took a drink of her coffee. "And the fourth one?" asked Bucky, gently.

She took another drink of her coffee before speaking. "Was charming and sociable. Then I woke up alone in a cheap motel and didn't remember how I got there .... You can guess the rest."

Bucky seethed inside, that someone would do such a thing. He knew of guys who had done similar things before the war and had taken justice into his own hands a few times. He swallowed his anger and looked at Tracey.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It didn't happen often in my day but even once was too much. It must have put you off of dating completely."

"It did," she admitted, then she sipped her coffee and looked at her cup. "Then I met a kind, quiet, private man who faced his own challenges. He asked me out and I had to turn him down because he was technically a client but as of yesterday he's not anymore."

She kept looking at her coffee for a moment then raised her eyes to his surprised look. "Me? You're talking about me?"

"I talked to my supervisor," she said. "Told her I stayed the night at your house to watch your sister while you worked the night shift, and that I gave you both a ride to the newcomer centre for a social event on the weekend, then organized a Sunday meeting with the volunteers at your house. She agreed that I've become emotionally involved with you and Rebecca. Another nurse will take her on as a client."

"You're not in trouble, are you?" he asked, his face and voice full of concern. "I never wanted you to get into trouble."

"No, it's a hazard of the profession," replied Tracey, with a slight smile. "I reported it right away like I was supposed to. After a cooling off period I'll be free to go out with you, if you're willing to wait a bit."

Bucky felt a warmth inside that he hadn't felt for a long time, not since the war when he thought he fell in love with an army secretary. He never had the chance to find out about her because he fell from the train a week later. Tracey's cheeks were coloured pink and she looked anxious, as if she had put herself out on a limb and was afraid to climb back to the safety of the tree trunk.

"How long is the cooling off period?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Two months," she replied. "No contact with each other. The new nurse has been fully briefed on the situation and agrees that Rebecca needs to be at home with you. The volunteers are doing a great job and if you get the funding to hire someone they can apply for the job and actually get paid for it."

Bucky took a big breath and sat back for a moment. He never expected that Tracey would take the step of transferring Rebecca's case to someone else. She still wasn't looking at him and he realized that he hadn't really said he would be there for her.

"I came here with the intention of asking you to give up Rebecca as a client," he admitted. "I like you, a lot. You're a kind woman and you've been very understanding with me. I'll wait as long as it takes for your cooling off period. You're worth it to me. I just hope I'm worth it to you."

She smiled shyly and it was like a fountain began flowing inside of him at the sight of her lovely smile, that she was gifting to him. They both took a drink of their coffees and Tracey finished her muffin. When it was time to go Bucky walked her to her car, waiting patiently as she unlocked the door and opened it. He looked intently at her, unable to take his eyes off of her lips. Suddenly she put her hand on his cheek and he leaned down kissing her gently. They each smiled self consciously then he stepped back while she got behind the wheel. As she pulled away he watched until he couldn't see her car anymore. Both of them had the same soft look on their faces.

When he walked in the door of the house both Amina and Rebecca noticed Bucky didn't have his normal stoic face on. Instead he had what Amina thought was a hopeful face, as if he had seen something that made him feel good about his life.

"How did the coffee date go?" asked Rebecca.

"It wasn't a date," said Bucky, sounding positive. "It was a meeting with your former nurse. I say former because you'll have a new nurse starting Friday. I forgot to ask for her name."

"What about Miss Tracey?" asked Amina, taking a tray of cookies out of the oven.

"She asked to be removed as Rebecca's nurse," he said, stopping so that he was in between the kitchen and the living room, visible to both women. "Apparently, if she is emotionally involved with a client it's not ethical for her to stay on as their nurse. She'll be able to visit as a friend in two months."

"Two months is a long time," noted Rebecca.

"I'll manage," said Bucky. "Amina, I need to take a nap. Are you going to be here for a while?"

"For about another hour," she said, looking at the clock on the wall. "Sweet dreams."

Rebecca snorted as Amina giggled. Bucky’s face coloured up a bit but nothing was going to affect the good feeling he had since he kissed Tracey. Kicking his shoes off, he laid on top of the bed. The window was open and he could hear bird song outside. Focussing on that he fell into an easy sleep quickly.

There's a song playing as he and Tracey are standing close to each other. He's heard it on the radio before but he doesn't know the title or who sings it. The lyrics include references to Rudolph Valentino and Greta Garbo but what he really likes is that he's in a suit, Tracey is in a dress and they begin dancing to this song. They're in a garden, with fairy lights all around, and the moon is making everything glow in its silvery light. The song ends with him falling in love with her and what is even better, her falling in love with him. As the dream fades to darkness Bucky kisses Tracey passionately.

Bucky opened his eyes and sat up. That song was in his head. He could hear it but except for Valentino, Garbo and falling in love he couldn't discern the rest of the lyrics. He got up and noticed Rebecca was asleep on her bed. For a minute he watched her chest rise and fall as she rested, then he closed the door. A note was on the kitchen counter.

I helped Mrs. Rebecca go to bed at 3:30 pm and left shortly after. I'm happy for you and Miss Tracey. She is worth waiting for. I will see you Thursday for my regular shift.

Amina Nyok

He smiled then opened the fridge and took out the chicken breasts he defrosted. He also took out mushrooms, baby spinach and three cloves of garlic. He sliced the mushrooms, crushed the garlic and put them both in the frying pan with some olive oil, then added the baby spinach and some thyme. While that cooked he sliced pockets in the chicken and seasoned them with salt and pepper. He stuffed the mushroom filling in the pockets, added some mozzarella and sealed the pockets with toothpicks. Adding some more butter to the frying pan he added the chicken breasts and browned them then transferred them to a baking dish. For a moment he thought he heard something and he checked on Rebecca.

"Are you awake?" he asked quietly.

"Just," she said sleepily. "You must have heard me stretching."

He chuckled and came to the side of the bed. "Do you want to get up?" he asked. "I can get you up now or continue to make supper and get you up later."

"Now is good," she said. "Bathroom first."

He helped her sit up and transferred her into the bathroom. As he lifted her up with one arm he helped her remove her pants and the diaper then lowered her onto the raised toilet seat.

"You good?" he asked.

She nodded and he went back to the kitchen to get the next set of ingredients out for the rice. When she was done Rebecca called him for help then he carried her into the living room and placed her on the arm chair. Turning on the TV he put it on the news and returned to the kitchen to continue making dinner. Half an hour later it was all ready and he served her meal then went back for his. They watched the news then Bucky watched Jeopardy with Rebecca, trying to guess the answers with her. During a commercial break she looked at her brother.

"You usually read during these shows," she said. "What's got you in a good mood?"

"I guess I feel good about Tracey," he said after a moment.

"I'm glad for you," replied Rebecca. "I just hope her replacement is as nice as she was."

"It'll be alright," said Bucky.

The commercial ended and they continued to watch Jeopardy. By the time Kalyna came for her shift Rebecca was all ready for bed and Bucky read her another bed time story, this time a chapter from Tuesdays With Morrie. He kissed her goodnight, said goodnight to Kalyna and ran to the docks. The following morning Foggy was back with all the documents and they signed everything.

On Friday morning Bucky made sure the house was clean and he had coffee ready. Amina had baked again, lovely almond cookies that he had a hard time not eating. When the doorbell rang at 9:30 he went to the door, looked through the cutout window and saw an older woman waiting. Her eyes grew big when she saw him.

"My goodness, it really is you," she said, then she offered her hand. "Marie Peters. I'm the public health nurse assigned to your sister, Rebecca Proctor. You must be Bucky Barnes."

"I am," he said. "Come in, please."

He introduced her to his sister and offered a coffee, bringing a small plate of the cookies which she smiled at. She got right to business, checking Rebecca's blood pressure, pulse, heart, lungs, strength, and asking her several questions about her mental state. When she was finished she sat back and looked at the two of them.

"Well, Tracey wasn't kidding," she said to Rebecca. "You're lucky to have a brother who takes such good care of you. The volunteers who look after her overnight must be good people. As far as I can tell you're in excellent health. As for you, Mr. Barnes ... well, most of us were wondering why Tracey would pull herself off this case but I get it now. You're a handsome man for someone so old."

Bucky's face reddened and Rebecca smiled at this nurse. "Even the volunteers could see there were sparks between them," she said. "Tracey is a lovely lady. How is she doing with her new cases?"

Marie looked at them blankly. "She didn't tell you?" she asked. "Tracey is on leave. She's taken two months off to do some volunteer work in Central America." Marie noticed Bucky's face. "Oh dear, it looks like I let the cat out of the bag. Look, don't see anything nefarious in this. It was something that came up and she probably took it so that she wasn't tempted to make contact with you during the cooling off period. If you care about her you'll accept that she'll be back in two months and you'll both be free to see each other."

Bucky nodded but both women could see the disappointment on his face. When Marie left Bucky plopped himself down on the sofa and looked at Rebecca.

"Why would she leave and not tell me?" he asked. "I can accept she would remove herself from temptation but to not even say goodbye? What am I supposed to think?"

"Have faith in her Bucky," said Rebecca soothingly. "It will be alright."

As happy as Bucky had been the previous few days once he heard Tracey was out of the country he seemed depressed to everyone who cared about him. During the week the volunteers brought special baking to cheer him up. While he was polite to them it was obvious their efforts were not enough to help him feel better. After Marie's next visit the following Friday even she commented on his demeanour when he abruptly excused himself to go to the store while she was there.

"You'll have to excuse him," said Rebecca. "Tracey really connected with him. He's not happy she didn't say goodbye before leaving."

"I emailed her," replied Marie, lowering her voice even though they were the only ones there. "She feels terrible about it, thinks she might have offended him."

Both women shook their heads over the couple. Bucky returned shortly before Marie left, carrying a couple of bags of groceries in one hand and mail in the other. He went straight to the kitchen to put things away then stood at the counter looking at the envelopes. One of them caught his attention and he looked at it with his jaw set firmly. Looking up as Marie said her goodbyes he waited until she left before he came into the living room and sat near Rebecca with the envelope.

"It's from Tracey," he said. "Postmarked Belize."

"You going to read it?" asked Rebecca.

He glanced at her and opened the envelope, unfolded the letter and began reading it. Rebecca watched as his face became more relaxed and soft. Then he looked at his sister.

"She's sorry. She wanted to tell me but was afraid of my reaction, that I would think she was abandoning me. She did it so that she wasn't tempted to show up at the door."

"Does that make you feel better?" asked Rebecca.

He flushed and nodded. "I thought she changed her mind about me. You know ... my issues were too much for her."

"Bucky, come here," ordered his sister. He got up and kneeled before her as she took his hand. "You are a good man. You're kind, understanding, and you feel things deeply. What you went through affected you. Even I can see that. What's important is that you keep on trying. She obviously cares if she sent you this letter. Even if you don't hear from her until she returns believe that she thinks about you. Because you're worth it."

She placed her hand on his face and kissed his forehead. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and hugged her. Her words comforted him and he was glad to hear them. Just at that moment his phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket.

"It's Sam," he said, as he touched the Accept button and put it to his ear. "Hey, how's it going?"

"So, did you talk to that nurse?" asked Sam's voice on speaker.

Bucky blushed, forgetting he had it on speaker. Rebecca grinned at him and sat back.

"Yeah, we talked," said Bucky. "She already asked to be released from Rebecca's case. There's a two month cooling off period where we can't communicate so she's gone to Belize to do some volunteer nursing work there."

"That will go by fast," said Sam. "Listen, I have some lobbying to do in Washington next week. You up to having me sleep on your couch for next weekend? Figured it was time to connect with my friend and his sister. How you doing, Rebecca? Did he leave the phone on speaker?"

"Yes, he did Sam," laughed Rebecca. "You're more than welcome to spend the weekend. Maybe you and I can go out for a night on the town. Hit up a blues club or something."

"I like your style," said Sam. "You're a lot more fun than your brother."

"I like the blues," said Bucky weakly. "Rebecca's usually in bed by 9:30. Those places don't even get going until then." Rebecca punched him on the arm and Bucky recoiled, rubbing the spot where she hit. "Thanks, Sam. My sister just assaulted me."

Sam chuckled. "You're the one calling your younger sister old. I'll see you next weekend."

"Hey Sam," said Rebecca. "Bring the suit. Perhaps you can make an appearance at the agency that's been helping us out. They're great people and I know they would love to have a visit from Captain America."

"I was bringing the suit and I think that's a great idea," replied Sam. "See you both.”

Bucky put his phone back in his pocket and stood up. "How do you feel about pizza for dinner?" he asked. "It's been a while."

"Loaded but no onions," said Rebecca with a smile.

"You got it," he replied, and searched his phone for the nearest pizza place, ordering two large loaded pizzas, no onions. "You want a beer with that? I could run out quickly and get some before they deliver."

"Sure," she answered. "Leave me some money in case they come early."

He pulled out enough cash for her and headed out to get some cold beer, a two block run. Quickly grabbing a six pack he brought it up to the cash register, noticing the cashier's face was red with some tear tracks. She didn't make eye contact with him and he could feel his senses go on full alert. Calming himself he listened for her heartbeat realizing it was pounding away. What was more, there was another heartbeat, from under the counter in front of her.

"Hey, do you have any of those, what do you call them, coolers?" he asked, then he pointed below the counter and gave her a thumbs down. "I looked but I couldn't find what I wanted. Do you think you have more in back?"

She nodded and moved to help him when he saw the tip of a sawed off shotgun coming up from below. Quicker than anyone could react Bucky grabbed the muzzle, yanking it up and out of the robber's hands, pulling him up with it. The man grabbed the girl while holding a knife in his other hand but Bucky cocked the shotgun and placed it against the man's neck, using his left hand so he didn't get his fingerprints on it.

"I can fire this before you take your next breath," said Bucky. "Put the knife on the counter and let her go." The man did as he was told and Bucky looked at the woman. "You okay? Go ahead and call the police. He's not going anywhere."

She phoned the police then came around to Bucky. He put his arm around her shoulder as she began to cry. Keeping his eye on the robber Bucky tried to calm her.

"You'll be okay," he said. "I've dealt with assholes like this before. They're cowards."

"Thank you," she said, as her sobs subsided. "I thought he would kill me. Three other people came in and said nothing. Just bought their stuff and left."

"Well, I'm not them, am I," stated Bucky. They could hear the sirens get closer. "Police are almost here." He looked at the guy. "Get down on the floor and put your hands behind your head. Do it, before my trigger finger twitches.”

The man did as he was told and Bucky put the gun on the counter beside the knife. When the police arrived he pointed to the man on the ground. Quickly he told them his name and what he did.

"Listen, I've left my sister alone at the house," he said. "She's in a wheelchair and isn't supposed to be on her own for too long. Can you come and take my statement there? She's probably wondering where I am as I was only supposed to be here a few minutes."

Bucky showed them his driver's licence to confirm his address and the officer said he could go. The girl hugged him then gave him his six pack in thanks. He ran back home and found the pizza delivery guy sitting in the living room with Rebecca, chatting.

"Here he is," she said. "What took you so long? I didn't have enough money. I need another eight dollars"

"Sorry," said Bucky, pulling out a ten dollar bill and handing it to the man. "Would you believe the store was being robbed? Poor kid at the till was terrified. The police are coming here to take my statement."

The man looked at the ten dollars and pushed it back to Bucky. "Keep it. If you stopped a robbery I can cover the rest of bill."

"No, I couldn't ask that of you," said Bucky. "Pay it forward. I'm good."

The man nodded and left. Bucky took the pizzas into the kitchen, getting some plates out. He put two pieces on a plate for Rebecca and brought it out with a beer. Then he put four pieces on his plate and opened a beer for himself. Just as he sat down the doorbell rang and he opened it to the policeman who came to take his statement. As Rebecca sat and beamed at her brother he told the officer what happened. After Bucky signed off on his statement the officer stood up and offered Bucky his hand.

"I heard of you when you were the Winter Soldier," he said. "I was on duty when you and Captain America took on those Flag Smashers. You did good that night. You did good today. It's been an honour to meet you Mr. Barnes. You're a good man."

Nodding at Rebecca the officer left and she ate her second piece of pizza, proud that her brother was Bucky Barnes.

Chapter 4>>

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #sibling relationship #bucky barnes romance

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vodkawriter · 2 months

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AND FINALLY... not too happy with the result but I need to get this idea out of my head.

The one thing that Sam wanted, was to have one normal day. She loved the ghosts, but she needed a day off.

“Still hiding from the kids?” Jay asked with a smile while chopping some carrots.

“It’s not hiding if they know where I am” she answered returning the smile “now shut it, let me finish this before one of them barges in with a special request.”

“Hey Sam” Alberta crossed the wall to the kitchen, where Sam was typing on her laptop, attempting to finish an article about the latest scandal involving the Farnsby’s unpermitted pickleball court “there’s something wrong with Hetty and Trevor. Usually, Trevor is all about watching one of his movies at least once a day.”

“Okay? And that’s weird because?”

“Because he has been laying on the couch at the library and Hetty is also there, looking out of the window.” She replied giving Sam a pointed look.

“What is it? Update?” Jay asked leaning close to her.

“Apparently Alberta is worried because Trevor didn’t want to watch one of his rom-coms and he is at the library with Hetty just doing nothing.”

“That’s weird, ‘no pants’ is always up for a good 90’s rom-com.”

Sam did think that was weird, she got up and went to find them with Alberta following right behind. Jay shouting to ask her to inform him of the drama, later.

The blonde stopped short when she spotted a young girl at the front desk.

“Oh, hello there!” she greeted her potential guest “Welcome to the Woodstone B&B.”

The girl, who mustn’t have been more than sixteen, turned to look at her. Her auburn wavy hair was adorned with a headband that prevented it from going to her face, her blue eyes focused on her and a gentle smile graced her lips.

“Hello, I’d like a room, please”

“Um, you have to be at least eighteen for that” the blonde said.

“I just need a night, I promise I won’t cause any trouble” the girl insisted, looking at her pleadingly.

“I am so sorry, but I can’t. I could get into a lot of trouble if someone finds out.”

“No one will, I promise” oh those blue eyes were trouble “I just need to stay here for a night, it’s hard to explain but long story short, my parents lived here.”

“What? The only person who lived here was an old lady”

Flower, Sass, Isaac and Pete were watching everything from the stairs.

“According to a letter they left for me” she said while pulling out a letter from her backpack “she was gone for a whole year while they were here.”

Thor, Hetty and Trevor appeared right behind Alberta and just stared at the girl.

“You can read the letter” the red head said, giving her the letter.

Sam started reading and her eyes opened up in shock, she glanced at Trevor and Hetty and back to the letter. All the other ghosts were looking at them while whispering among themselves.

Dearest daughter, my sweet little princess:

It is with a heavy heart that we write you this letter, we know that you might have a thousand questions and no answers as to why we had to part from you. Unfortunately, we are not in the position to answer them, we cannot without sounding like two crazy people. There are a lot of uncertain things surrounding our goodbyes, but know this, the only certain thing we can and will always assure you is… that we love you very much.

One day, when you are older, we hope that you find the answers you may want at the only place we can think of: Woodstone Manor. We have been blessed with a year with the house to ourselves, the lady of the house having gone to another city.

Please, dear Haven, never forget that the hardest choice of our lives, was to give you up.

P.S: Please, I’m begging you to never date a guy, or at least to wait until you are like thirty or something. Dudes can be schmucks (I’d know because I am a dude).

P.S 2: Do not mind your father, he is a little protective right now. But as your mother I must warn you, no Irish men.

Love, your mother and father (H&T).

“This can’t be possible, right?” she asked around, eyes landing on the couple that were looking more and more captivated by the girl.

“What is it?” Jay said walking out of the kitchen, Sam gave him the letter and he looked as shocked as her after reading it. Looking at the girl then to Trevor and Hetty “HOW?”

“Samantha, I think it would be best if the girl is not here for this conversation” Hetty started, walking closer to the girl and looking at her as if she wanted to memorize every single detail “I know this must be shocking but we, all of us, haven’t told you about the last months of 2006.”

“Haven is my daughter” said Trevor stepping up next to the girl.

“And mine too” added Hetty with a small smile.

#hetty x trevor #h money #ghosts #hetty woodstone #trevor lefkowitz

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littlemourningstarr · 5 months

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Careening Towards Oblivion

Sorcerous Sundries should have been a quick stop for Gale and his infatuation with the Crown. Instead, it provides a megalomaniac wizard with an infatuation with one Dame Aylin and a reunion that has been far overdue since Last Light.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav ; Astarion x Rolan x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, hurt/comfort, there was only one bed, tiefling tails are a gift, relationship negotiation, blowjobs, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink

“Gale, just wait a moment!” Sekh called, as the wizard took off possibly faster than the drow had ever seen him move, heading for Sorcerous Sundries. Sekh sighed, hand falling to his side, knowing it was a lost cause.

“I didn’t know he could move that fast,” Astarion mused, folding his arms and leaning against Sekh’s shoulder. “Do you think if we dangled a book from a stick in front of him he’d chase it? Like a horse with a carrot?”

Lae’zel snorted a very undignified laugh, as Sekh side eyed his lover. “Play nice Astarion.”

“Oh darling, I am always nice.” Still, the elf straightened, gesturing for Sekh to lead on. Sekh hurried, fearing that may have lost Gale for good.

Sorcerous Sundries was busy, far more than a bookstore. If the teeming magic displays outside hadn’t been enough, there seemed to be just as many inside. It was quite chaotic. They’d have fun finding Gale in the chaos.

They were searching about for him, when Sekh saw a very familiar face, across the room. He felt his pulse quicken, a smile growing so wide on his face it ached. “Rolan!” he called, tearing away from the group, running for the circular desk at the center of the room. He slowed when he came near, smile dropping away as he took in the tiefling’s face.

Bruised, little knicks dotting his skin- a fresh one, on his lip.

“Well look who it is,” Rolan mused, smiling, seeming not to take notice of Sekh’s shock. “I had wondered if I’d bump into you here.”

Sekh moved up to the desk, grasped its edge, leaned over so he could get closer. “Rolan,” he said, his voice dropping, “who did this to you?”

Rolan’s smile fell away and he reached up, touched one of the bruises along his cheek. “It’s nothing,” he said, quite obviously trying to brush Sekh off. “Don’t dwell on it.”

Sekh tightened his hold on the desk, leaned until it dug into his ribs. “Rolan.” His voice pulled from his chest, and he saw something almost tremble in the tiefling’s eyes. “Tell me who.”

The wizard hesitated, before sighing, glancing away. “My… apprenticeship hasn’t been exactly what I expected.”

Sekh ground his teeth together. Rolan didn’t need to say more- that made it clear that Lorroakan was behind the injuries.

Rolan refused to meet Sekh’s gaze, after that. He had boasted of this apprenticeship since the drow had met him- it was clear that he was embarrassed at his current state, that whatever Lorroakan had promised him wasn’t what he had expected.

Sekh inhaled slowly, tried to calm his anger. “Can I start again?” he asked, and Rolan finally looked back at him. “There’s been… a lot, lately. I’ve never been good with my anger.”

“No, you haven’t,” Rolan teased, a smile beginning to pull at his lips. “I suppose I owe it to you to let you start over. Once. Don’t be greedy.”

Sekh felt his belly dancing, butterflies fluttering like mad. It was strange, to feel so giddy over someone other than Astarion.

Sekh cleared his throat, and as if just the thought of the vampire summoned him, the elf walked up to his side as Sekh said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Better.” Rolan glanced at Astarion, who eyed him, silently noting the state he was in. And then, not so silently,

“Who in the sweet hells put their hands on you?”

Rolan sighed, mumbled about how the two were far too alike. Astarion turned his stare to Sekh, giving him a questioning look, and Sekh mouthed Lorroakan. Astarion clamped his mouth shut then, looking at Rolan with concern. After all, he understood an abusive master better than most.

“It is good to see you,” Sekh stressed again. “I hoped that you and Cal and Lia had made it here safely. Where are they?”

Rolan reached for the open book on the desk, flipping a page, seeming fidgety. “Off and about, causing whatever trouble they so like. Lorroakan… doesn’t allow them to stay here.” Sekh frowned, realized Astarion was frowning as well. “Which is possibly for the best. I wouldn’t see much of them regardless- and gods, if they had to hear the endless prattle about the Nightsong like I do…”

“Nightsong?” Sekh glanced at Astarion, before looking back at Rolan. “She’s at our camp.”

Rolan’s eyes widened, before he chuckled. “You must be mistaken. The Nightsong is a relic… and Master Lorroakan’s obsession. But… if you have information on it, he will want to see you.”

“Am I allowed to rough him up a bit?” Sekh asked- and oh, Rolan did smile over that. “Just a little.”

“Come now darling,” Astarion said, wrapping an arm around Sekh’s waist and quite visibly pulling him away. “Flirt with your little wizard later. We’d best find Gale and figure out what this madman wants with Aylin.”

Rolan’s cheeks flushed redder, as Sekh stumbled for words, letting Astarion pull him away. They were out of earshot when he managed, “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh I know love,” Astarion said, “you are a bit more charming than that. But it was a delight to see Rolan go that pretty shade of red.”

The vampire paused, quirked a brow at Sekh- and, alright, he couldn’t argue. It had been a rather fetching shade.

“Now, next time,” Astarion whispered, leaning in to breathe into Sekh’s ear, “I’ll show you how to really fluster him.”

The vampire pecked his cheek affectionately, and there wasn’t a bone in Sekh’s body that wanted to argue the offer.

There was a portal at the top of the stairs that led to Lorroakan’s showroom. Sekh didn’t know what else to call it, as he stepped out with Astarion, Gale, and Lae’zel. They found the room large, open, showy and flashy.

A human in vibrant red robes watched them, a construct at his side lowering a bow. Sekh assumed he had to be Lorroakan- he had a look about his face that made Sekh desperately want to punch him. Just once.

Maybe twice. Three times, for good measure-

“I see no sign of the Nightsong,” the man said, as the party stopped, a few paces away. “Surely you wouldn’t waste my time. Surely you wouldn’t come empty handed.”

He spoke as if he was the greatest thing to bless the city, as if his time was holy. If Sekh hadn’t already had reasons to quite abhor him, he was finding all new ones.

“What do you want with her?” he asked, managing to keep his voice calm. Lorroakan perked at that.

“Her. Interesting. You’ve been to the Shadowfell, then?” Sekh only managed a nod, before Lorroakan continued speaking. He quite liked the sound of his own voice, didn’t he? “Now tell me, where is the Nightsong? And do make haste, I haven’t all day.”

“She’d eat you alive,” Astarion said, looking the man up and down and appearing- displeased.

Lorroakan laughed then. Sekh frowned, took a step closer to him. “She could be so lucky. No, I have plans for the Nightsong.” From his robes, Lorroakan produced a wand, turning it to gleam in the light. It was heavily ornate, a gaudy thing. “With this, I can trap her securely in place, and siphon her immortality into myself. I can become a god.”

“There’s more to godhood than immortality,” Astarion mumbled, his own near brush with a divine becoming all too fresh.

“What was that? Do speak up boy,” Lorroakan said, and Sekh heard Astarion snarl. Before he or the vampire could act, Gale was stepping up, placing a hand on Sekh’s shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing, just a mere observation regarding the… extensive criteria of godhood,” Gale offered. Lorroakan studied him for a moment, before his mouth upturned in an ugly grin.

And of course he recognized Mystra’s discarded lap dog, as he put it. He went on a small tirade regarding Gale’s fall from grace, and Sekh knew in that moment he wanted nothing more than to see this man’s skull caved in.

“I’ll tell Aylin to come,” he said, and Lorroakan instantly turned his attention to him. “If only to see her cave your skull in. For all the shit you just said.” He paused, then added, “And for daring to put your hands on Rolan.”

The wizard furrowed his brows, seeming confused for a moment. “The apprentice? What has he got to do with you?”

Sekh refused to answer, though. He turned on his heel, storming for the portal- knowing he needed to leave before he did something rash. Before he caved the man’s skull in himself, and denied Aylin the joy.

As expected, Aylin was more than pleased to present herself to Lorroakan. Sekh had felt bad that the aasimar had requested Isobel stay behind- he knew the feeling all too well of wanting to get a good hit or ten in on someone who wanted to hurt the person you loved.

He was alarmed to see Rolan wasn’t at the desk at the center of Sorcerous Sundries upon their return- but couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Once they were done with Lorroakan, Rolan would be safe.

They found the megalomaniac of a wizard perched on his throne of tomes, one levitating in the air as he idly flipped through it. He gave them barely a glance, as they emerged from the portal- until Aylin took shape, imposing and regal.

Aylin addressed the man, her voice snide, quite done with the bullshit of preening, overzealous men. As she did, Sekh took in the room- elementals, flitting about- one of Lorroakan’s constructs, a walking suit of armor-

And then Rolan. Rolan, looking at Aylin with starlight eyes, as if she couldn’t be real.

Sekh turned his attention back to Lorroakan, found the wizard was looking at him now as he spoke- “and do what he came here to do.”

Sekh frowned. “You’re a fool, Lorroakan. I came here to watch Aylin put you in your place.”

The wizard frowned, drew up ugly lines along his face as Aylin laughed. Sekh could just hear Rolan whisper, my gods, the Nightsong is a person. He had moved up closer, was standing next to Lorroakan now. Sekh glanced next to him, at Astarion- but the vampire’s eyes were locked on their wizard and the small gap of space between he and Lorroakan. He looked ready to spring.

It made Sekh smile.

“Boy! At the ready!” Lorroakan snapped his fingers, didn’t even look at Rolan, and the tiefling frowned, brows furrowing.

“No, Master Lorroakan. If I had known the Nightsong was a person, I never would have helped you.” He was still looking at Aylin, awestruck. Sekh understood. There was little in the divine he could respect- but Aylin felt like an expectation, to him. Immortal yes, but not quite godly enough to think the world below her.

Lorroakan jerked his head, looked at Rolan as if no one had said the word no to him his entire life. “I will make sure no wizard in the realms touches you boy- do. As. You’re. Told.”

“That sounds like a fine deal to me.” Rolan took a step away from Lorroakan, eyes moved to Sekh now- a little smile beginning to form on his battered face. “I’ve seen true leadership, but never under your tutelage.”

Another step, and Lorroakan reached out, grasped Rolan’s robes, jerked him back a step. Sekh tensed, fingers curled, magic beginning to course through him. “I’m going to enjoy breaking each of your fingers,” he growled, as the wizard turned his attention to him- chuckled, eyeing the magic crackling at his fingers.

“What childish magic is this?” he asked, flicking his other hand so his elementals moved in closer. “Death magic and- what, borrowed weave from the fey do I sense? Pathetic.”

Sekh bared his teeth, but before he could speak he heard Astarion- and realized the elf was no longer at his side. “You talk too much.”

Lorroakan’s eyes went wide, the voice coming from behind him. In a swift movement Astarion kicked him in the small of his back, sent him stumbling, and the world erupted into chaos. The elementals rushed them, a sudden cascade of ice, wind, fire all over, as they all scrambled to get their bearings.

Aylin drew her sword and went right for Lorroakan. Sekh caught sight of Gale focusing in on him as well- while Lae’zel cleaved into an air elemental, losing no momentum even as her sword eased through it and the elemental barely reacted.

Sekh ran a few steps, grabbed Rolan by the wrist, and pulled him away from Lorroakan, as the man rolled onto his hip, let loose a storm of fire that had Aylin pulling back to avoid singeing her wings. “Get out of here,” he breathed, but Rolan pulled his wrist back, stood firm- smiled.

“And let you do all the heroing again? I think not.” He turned as the Earth elemental rushed them, firing glittering missiles into it with such force it jerked back. “Your fight is my fight.”

Sekh smiled then, was about to speak- when he heard a pained yell. He turned his attention to the sound, found Astarion gripping his daggers tightly, an arrow sticking out of his belly, lodged in his now-replaced armor.

The vampire looked pissed. Sekh turned to the magic fueled suit that was notching another arrow, sent a stream of shadows at it- only to have them nearly devoured by Lorroakan’s fire. In the same instant another arrow sliced through the air, this time lodging in Astarion’s shoulder.

He didn’t even drop his dagger. He ran at the thing, foot connecting with what would be its chest, sent it flying back. As he did the water elemental turned, shot him off balance with water that looked so cold it could freeze the skin.

Sekh ran, leapt onto the elemental, hand grasping at its chest as shadows poured into it. He fumbled for his sword as he did so, the thing thrashing, the sounds in the room all melding together- rushing air, bursting fire, crashes of metal and bone, grunts of exertion, pain-

He got his sword through the elemental’s side, and it faltered, teetered down. It threw Sekh off balance, and he rolled to the floor, landing on his hip and watching as Astarion ran directly into the elemental, daggers digging in deep- another arrow sticking out of his belly now. He could see the blood trailing down his armor.

Sekh pushed himself up, as Astarion pulled his daggers free and stabbed again and again, until the elemental went still, becoming nothing but clumps of dirt and rock.

Only a few away, a burst of flame hit the floor, singeing the carpet.

Sekh ran the short distance, got down on the ground and grabbed Astarion’s face, forcing him to look at him. He was paler than he had been just moments ago- but his eyes were alert. “I’m fine,” he said, just as Sekh heard Rolan dropping to his knees, next to them, looking alarmed.

“You have four arrows sticking out of you,” Sekh said, trying to keep calm. Astarion wasn’t dying, it would be alright. It would be alright.

“An inconvenience.” Astarion moved to stand, but grimaced, one of the arrows looking as if it dug deeper into his belly. He bared his fangs over the pain, and Sekh grasped his arm, easing him back down, looking at Rolan.

“Keep him safe,” he said, much to Astarion’s protests. Sekh turned his attention back to his vampire. “Cover me?” he asked, and Astarion looked at him, confused for a moment-

Before he grinned, dropped his daggers, and reached for his hand crossbows. “Don’t get yourself killed,” he said, and Sekh turned, rushing back into the fray. It was chaos, all around him- Gale’s magic mingling with Lorroakan’s, Aylin dashing about on her glorious wings- Lae’zel dancing between the elementals.

Sekh could only react. A stab at the water elemental, dropping to avoid some of Gale’s attacks, only to have to run nearly across the room to avoid Lorroakan’s. Sweat was clinging to his spine, his scalp, his breaths coming in quick pants, and he felt they were making little progress.

And then a very well placed arrow hit Lorroakan in the back of his shoulder. He gave a yell, and Sekh glanced across the room, saw Astarion lowering his dominant hand to fire with his off hand, hitting Lorroakan in the back. He was propped up now, back to Rolan’s chest, as the wizard knelt, eyes aglow as he sent his own storm of fire and sheer, undiluted weave into the fray, an arm around Astarion’s chest to keep him steady.

The second long lapse it gave the human was all Aylin needed- she was there, smashing him in his face with the hilt of her sword, shattering his nose and sending him stumbling back. She dropped the sword completely, grabbed him by the collar of his robe, sent her armored fist careening into his face until his head snapped back.

He was going limp, and Sekh wondered if he was even conscious. Aylin grasped his body then, lifted him high- and in a single, swift motion, brought his back down against her knee. The crack of his spine reverberated throughout the room.

The moment the sound broke, the elementals collapsed into lifeless piles- the armor clamoring to the floor in the same fashion.

All of the magic died with Lorroakan.

Aylin stood there, panting, looking… pained. Sekh wanted to go to her, but he stumbled in a run across the room back to Astarion and Rolan. The wizard was still holding his vampire, and Astarion was grinning, even if he was breathing rather heavy. Sekh took his face in his hands, stroked his chilled cheeks with his thumbs, before he looked up, caught Rolan’s eyes-

So soft despite their fire. Looking at Sekh with a relief that was palpable.

“You did it,” Rolan whispered, “the bastard is dead.”

“I’d argue that- ah,” Astarion bit his lip as he shifted, the arrows still lodged in him moving. “Bloody hells. I’d argue that Aylin did most of that. Maybe Gale.”

Sekh didn’t argue, as he heard Aylin’s footsteps, walking over. Gale and Lae’zel crowded in as well, as Aylin crouched down, lifting Astarion into her arms like a princess with ease.

Shockingly, he didn’t fight it. If anything, Sekh noticed a bit of color rising on those overly pale cheeks. “I’ll get him back to Isobel and Shadowheart,” she offered, much to Sekh’s relief. The longer they left those arrows like that, the more damage they could do.

Glancing at the whole group, Sekh decided they all needed a bit of healing. He stood up, offered his hand to Rolan and helped pull him up. He wanted to stay, to patch him up-

But Astarion needed him.

“I have to go with him,” Sekh said, “but I’ll come back later? I’ll help patch you up.” Rolan looked at him with a bit of shock, before Sekh turned his attention to Lae’zel. “Lae’zel, would you mind… helping with the body.”

She sheathed her sword, utterly grinning. “Giving me the fun task? I do rather like you.” He rolled his eyes, dropped Rolan’s hand, as Aylin left through the portal. Gale pressed a hand to Sekh’s back, offered to get him back to the Elfsong in a blink, and Sekh nodded. He looked back at Rolan- and the tiefling gave him a little smile.

It was the last thing he saw before Gale snatched him away.

Astarion’s armor had stopped the majority of the piercing from the arrows, and he was patched up fairly quickly, much to Sekh’s relief. While Isobel and Shadowheart worked on Aylin, Sekh sequestered Astarion away to their corner bed, wrapping the shirtless vampire up in his arms and offering a wrist. He’d need blood if he wanted to heal quickly.

Astarion’s back was to Sekh’s chest, his tongue pushing at the wound on his wrist as he drank slowly. Sekh was content to sit in silence with him, his body happy for a soft bed- he had plenty of bruises under his once again torn robes.

The vampire had given him an earful on how battered his clothing was again, while Isobel had worked on him. It was comical. A part of Sekh was almost eager to see him stitching it back together. There was a… domesticity to it.

He felt Astarion’s lips leave his wrist and rested his chin atop his head. “Done already?”

“I can’t drain you, my sweet,” he said, before dragging his tongue over the wounds again. Sekh let his hand fall to Astarion’s lap, where the vampire idly took it, laced their fingers together, gave it a squeeze. It was still strange, to not feel the press of either ring, against his hand.

Sekh had meant it, when he told Astarion he’d just get him a prettier one. Someday. When the world wasn’t ending, and they could think about such things.

They sat in silence for a moment, content, before Astarion asked rather softly, “Do you think your little wizard is alright?”

Sekh smiled. “Going soft on me and worrying about him?” Astarion scoffed, but he didn’t respond. Sekh didn’t need him to. “Once you’re settled I’ll go back and see him- make sure he’s alright.” Astarion fidgeted out of Sekh’s hold then, turning to face him- eyes rather serious.

“Not without me.” Sekh arched a brow in silent question, and Astarion cleared his throat, glanced away. “I mean- it wouldn’t do to leave you all alone with him- you’ll simply make a fool of yourself with your flirtatious attempts again.”

The drow laughed, tipping his head back slightly. “Whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better, Starshine.” He reached for Astarion’s cheek, caressed it softly, watched those eyelids flutter. “I wouldn’t… Astarion, I love you, and I want you to know I wouldn’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You have me. You have all of me.”

There was a waver, to those pretty ruby eyes- one that the vampire didn’t try to hide. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to Sekh’s palm. “Darling, if you want a little taste of the tiefling, I will never say no. I… believe you, when you say you love me.” Another nervous clearing of his throat. “Which is a novel concept, but one I’m trying to embrace.” His hand reached for Sekh’s thigh, squeezed it gently, reassuring. “I’ve lived too long to ever think one can have every need or desire met by one person. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Sekh’s fingers played along his cheek, as Astarion moved to kiss the fresh puncture wounds on his wrist. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”

Those eyes rose to Sekh’s, held his stare. “Shockingly, yes.”

He could have almost laughed. “Do you want him?”

Sekh felt almost ridiculous asking- there was no way he had imagined the tension, between the three of them- yet he needed Astarion’s confirmation. Because he almost didn’t want to experience anything without him- he’d rather just enjoy the fantasy, if Astarion didn’t feel the strange magnetic pull as well.

The vampire licked his lips. When he spoke it was low, voice pulling directly from the core of his chest. “Yes.” There was a long pause, as if he was digesting his own answer. With a smile he added, “Oh, it is rather fun to admit.”

Sekh chuckled, leaned in and pressed an affectionate kiss to Astarion’s lips. There was enough joy in seeing the vampire express desire he could embrace at his own levels of comfort that it could drown out the sudden race of his heart at the prospect that they both wanted their little wizard.

It was dark, by the time they made it back to Sorcerous Sundries. Lae’zel had returned just as the sun was setting to the Elfsong, declaring that Lorroakan was well taken care of. Sekh didn’t ask what that meant about his body- was just glad that Lae’zel seemed pleased with a job well done.

Rolan looked about the same, as he had when Sekh had left him after the battle. He had hoped the tiefling would have cleaned himself up a bit- taken care of the cuts on his face, and whatever other aches might be lurking, beneath his robes.

“Gods preserve me,” Sekh muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Next to him, Astarion chuckled, quite obviously enjoying his lover’s frustration. Sekh would have elbowed him, but he was afraid of aggravating the bandaged wounds, around his torso.

“I was a bit distracted,” Rolan offered, leaning back against the central desk of Sorcerous Sundries. It was eerily quiet, within, now that the shop was closed. “What with dealing with Lorroakan’s… body. And then gathering up Cal and Lia.”

“You mean they let you prance around all bruised up?” Sekh folded his arms, brow furrowed, and Rolan rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing away.

“Well… not willingly, but… there’s paperwork-”

“Oh bloody hells,” Astarion broke in, chuckling, “you’re going to set Sekh to convulsions. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up. I gave him enough of a scare for the day.”

“You certainly did,” Sekh muttered, taking Astarion’s hand and following a resigned Rolan, into the depths of the building. They took a portal that led to living quarters, a large foyer that seemed-

Well, rather cold and unwelcoming. Nothing but books stacked on shelves, windows wide open that would let in the sunlight- but now left the room dark.

“The wizard was very… poor with his interior design,” Astarion mused, as they exited the foyer, Rolan taking them into a hallway that was bland. He paused at a door, twisting the handle and pushing the door open.

“I don’t believe he cared much for… homeliness.” Rolan stepped inside, and Sekh and Astarion followed. Rolan’s room was small but well kept- he had a bed pushed against one wall, a desk against another, which was stacked high with books. An additional stack was on the floor, all heavily bookmarked.

Rolan walked over to a small armoire, opening it and pulling out a little basket.

“Lia put this together the first time she saw what Lorroakan had done,” he offered, turning around and holding it close to his chest. He looked embarrassed. “I thought she was going to storm right in and kill him herself.”

Sekh wished she had. He stepped closer, took the basket- full of medical supplies, and gestured towards the desk. Rolan moved to sit in the chair, as Astarion busied himself pacing the room, pretending to be interested in anything else other than the other two men in the room.

He didn’t fool Sekh.

The drow set the basket down, pawing through it, examining the various bottles and jars in it. Lia had done a damn good job putting it together, he had to admit. Bless her.

Sekh popped open a bottle, picking up a cloth and dabbing the liquid on it. “This is going to sting,” he said, free hand reaching for Rolan’s chin, tipping it up slightly. The tiefling just looked at him, and Sekh felt his pulse pick up, a tick.

He caught, from the corner of his eyes, Astarion glance at him, little smile on his face.

Ignoring him, Sekh dabbed the cloth at a cut on Rolan’s cheek. The tiefling winced, and without thought Sekh hushed him, a soft shh, shh that had Rolan’s eyes going a little wide.

He heard the floor creak, as Astarion moved over to them- and he knew he was making noise for their benefit. The vampire stood behind Rolan, idly fidgeting with his hair, beginning to pull what remained tied back free. Rolan’s eyes darted, wanting to look back at him, as Sekh moved to another cut, along his jaw.

“I thought a distraction might be in order,” Astarion murmured, tangling Rolan’s hair around his fingers. He tsked. “What is with both of you and tying up such pretty hair?”

“I can’t have it in my face all the time,” Sekh retorted, not looking at Astarion. He was examining a bruise along Rolan’s neck, tipping the tiefling’s face to the side with ease. “I could chop it off instead-”

“Do not even jest.” Sekh glanced up then, gave Astarion a huge grin, and watched the way the vampire smiled back, the light from it reaching his eyes. “I would go into mourning. I’d weep for days.”

The drow shook his head, turned his attention back to Rolan. He had a cut near his lip, and without much thought Sekh moved his thumb, rubbed it along his lower lip, then over the healing cut. He felt Rolan shiver, before the man’s lips parted, a little noise escaping him that had Sekh’s heart pounding up into his throat. The moment he made it, Rolan flushed, so deep he was redder than Sekh had ever seen, as he averted his eyes quickly.

And behind him, Astarion gave a toothy smile. Sekh glanced at him, realized the vampire had his fingers trailing along one of Rolan’s horns softly. “Apologies,” he said, “I thought you might like it. I do believe Sekh touched you here once before, when I … feeding.”

The sheer memory of that little moment had Sekh’s belly twisting. It had been… intimate, in ways he hadn’t expected. As if the three of them had connected, nerves and synopsis melding, becoming a single being.

“It’s… it’s alright,” Rolan managed. He cleared his throat, and Sekh forced himself to focus, cleaned the last cut up by Rolan’s brow.

There wasn’t much he could do about the bruises, unfortunately. There was an ointment in the basket, Sekh recognized the list of herbs in it- it would help with pain, but he knew it wasn’t the most pleasant on the face.

“Where else are you bruised?” Sekh asked, as Astarion continued to stroke his fingertips along one of Rolan’s horns, looking quite pleased with himself. Rolan tried to tell Sekh not to bother, but the drow frowned, before stepping back, placing his hands firmly on his hips. “Rolan.”

There was a flicker, in those fiery eyes, over just saying his name. Sekh tried to ignore it, but Astarion hummed a little approval- and he wondered, had Rolan’s pulse spiked? Could Astarion hear it?

“I’m fine. Really.” Rolan moved to stand up then, dislodging Astarion from his horns. Before Sekh could speak, Astarion stepped around the chair, putting himself between Rolan and Sekh.

“I highly doubt that,” the vampire said, “now, play nice and let Sekh take care of you. I promise you’ll… enjoy it.” He held the tiefling’s stare for a moment, before Rolan’s shoulders sagged slightly.

“Fine. My… torso is rather battered.”

“Great. Off with the robe then, darling.” Astarion twirled his finger, and Rolan hesitated a moment, before he listened. He shed the robe, settling it on the back of his chair, leaving him bare chested, his pants settled slightly low on his hips.

Sekh forced himself not to stare- it was hard, oh it was hard- and turned back to the little medical basket, opening the jar and scooping a bit of the balm onto his fingers. “This is cold,” he warned, as he pressed his fingers to Rolan’s chest, along a large bruise that wrapped from his shoulder to his pectoral. The tiefling shivered, and gods Sekh could feel it, beneath his finger tips.

He rubbed the balm in, found Rolan’s higher body heat warmed it quickly. His fingers drifted from the bruise, down to his ribs, trailed over bumps and ridges that were tantalizing.

“Thank the gods this isn’t Jaheira’s recipe,” Astarion remarked, lifting the jar up. “Smells rather… floral.” Leagues better than that awful dirt smell that made made Sekh’s head hurt.

The drow managed a nod, reaching his fingers back into the jar for more, moving them to the next bruise. Without much thought his free hand went to Rolan’s waist, caressed gently- and the tiefling’s eyelids fluttered. Behind him, his tail swished rather forcefully.

Sekh was so close that he could smell Rolan’s sweat, his skin, beneath the balm. It was fiery, spiced in a way that made him want to clench his thighs together. And the way Rolan was watching him-

The tiefling hissed suddenly, going tense, and Sekh realized Astarion had placed a hand to his bare chest, splayed those icy fingers. “You are quite warm,” he mused, dragging the hand down his chest slowly, to the hollow of his ribs. “Am I too cold for you?”

“I- well…” Rolan took a breath, and gods, it was there again, this magnetic tension building in Sekh, spilling out between them all. “No.”

Astarion hummed. “Good. Good.” He pulled his hand away, waving Sekh off when the drow went for the jar again. “Darling he is quite cared for now I think. Do you need him… slippery?”

Sekh flushed, and Rolan turned his gaze up to the ceiling. Astarion snorted a laugh, quite pleased with himself over flustering them both.

“So tell us, what do you plan to do now with this rather… imposing tower?” Astarion capped the jar and set it in the basket, busying himself by taking it back to Rolan’s armoire. “Should we be hailing you as its new master?”

That had Sekh smiling. “All hail Rolan, master of Ramazith’s tower.”

And oh, that smug smile was back on Rolan’s face- but bigger, genuine. He chuckled. “I do like that sound of that. I do indeed.” He paused, added, “Cal and Lia might find it a bit pompous, though. Lorroakan wouldn’t let them stay here- moving them in was one of the best feelings.”

Sekh could only imagine.

“But,” Rolan added, “I wouldn’t have this- I wouldn’t have my family, without you. Either of you. What can I…” he paused, licked his lips, his eyes looking a bit darker, “What can I ever do to thank you?”

Astarion was back at Sekh’s side, quite ready with a retort, but Sekh broken in- “we could use some help saving the city- possibly all of the realms.”

The vampire scoffed, a breathed darling really? As Rolan chuckled. “And you’ll have it. I will learn everything about this tower, even if I have to tear it apart book by book. I’ll be right at your side.”

Sekh smiled then, folded his arms, felt Astarion’s hand going to his back. “And there’s one other thing.” Rolan looked at him expectantly, and Sekh’s smile turned to full affection. “Get some rest.”

Rolan hummed, a little laugh building. “I suppose I can arrange that. It has been a rather long day.” He shifted a bit, the cockiness beginning to fall away, “I know it’s… rather late. If you two want you could, well…” he swallowed. “You could stay.”

It was an interesting invitation- because Sekh knew it wasn’t that late. And that he and Astarion could easily make it back to the Elfsong. That they needed less time for rest.

Sekh glanced at Astarion, but the vampire was already sliding right up to Rolan, taking an arm in his own and leaning into his heat. “If you want our company,” he mused, “just ask, darling.”

And oh, there was that blush again. Rolan cleared his throat. “I… I would like that,” he admitted, “although my room is rather… small.”

“Not interested in crawling into the old master’s bed yet?” Astarion asked, before he grimaced a little. “Actually, don’t answer that. I imagine that man to have some rather… messy books lying about in his bed. No way another living creature would have crawled into bed with him.”

And Rolan was redder. “Astarion,” Sekh said, even as he laughed. The vampire just shrugged, not yet releasing Rolan’s arm. Sekh rolled his eyes, but he was smiling so wide his cheeks ached. “If you want our company, you have it,” he said, looking back to Rolan. “I think we’re all rather exhausted after today- sleeping arrangements shouldn’t bother us much.”

And, yes, fitting three grown adults into Rolan’s bed meant for one was a bit bothersome, but it was more so delightfully entertaining. Especially when Astarion began to undress without a care- until he was down to his shirt and underwear, looking at Sekh and Rolan as if they were mad to think he’d sleep fully dressed.

Sekh gave in then, sitting on the bed and tossing his shirt away. Rolan watched, inclined his head slightly, took a moment to study the scars along his chest, eyes dragging along the one that ran down his ribs- and then a look of realization on his face, and gods if he continued to blush he was going to be redder than a true devil before the night was out.

They ended with Sekh’s back pressed to the wall, the drow on his side, an arm tight around Rolan’s waist, the teifling’s back to his chest. Astarion was all too pleased to curl himself into Rolan’s chest, shuddering with delight over the heat, his hand finding his waist as well, rubbing Sekh’s arm there. It was… peaceful, even if cramped, even if new.

But it felt right, to be locked together, like this.

Sekh tranced easier than he expected, and came to from memories of being a child, exploring the Underdark in an almost carefree way with Syl, shortly after he’d met her. Before the pact, before the deaths.

He sighed, eyes fluttering open, arm instinctively tightening around the body pressed to him. But instead of Astarion’s refreshing coolness, he was met with heat that exceeded his own, a burning warmth that made him drowsy. Rolan was solid in his arms, larger than Astarion- and for a brief moment, Sekh wondered if he hadn’t roused yet, if his mind was crafting this to torment him.

But the day- and night- before flooded his memories, told him this was real. He smiled to himself, pressed his face into Rolan’s shoulder, sighing. Content.

As he did, he felt something tightening, around his leg. He glanced down, and realized in the night Rolan’s tail had coiled around his leg, was grasping him in a loose, sleepy fashion.

His smile grew so much it hurt. He felt giddy, suddenly. So giddy he must have squirmed about, because he felt Rolan stirring in his arms- and then finally, Astarion’s cool touch, as his hand slid along the arm he had slung over Rolan’s waist.

A familiar, drowsy grunt, and then Astarion’s waking voice- “I’m not quite ready for morning yet.” He heard Astarion shifting- assumed the vampire was nestling in closer to Rolan’s chest, soaking in all that delicious heat. He gave a little groan of approval, and Sekh knew he was right.

Rolan lifted his head- which Astarion’s grunt showed he did not approve of- and craned his neck, trying to get a look at Sekh behind him. His eyes were a bit drowsy- but he looked slightly awestruck, dream-like.

Did he think this wasn’t real?

Hadn’t they been careening to this point since Last Light?

“Good morning,” Sekh offered, pushing himself up so he was propped on his hip. Rolan rolled slightly more onto his back- and as he did so, Astarion simply moved with him, sprawling along his chest. Rolan glanced down at him, and Sekh chuckled. “Now that he knows you’re a living furnace, I hope you’re ready to never have a moment alone again.”

Rolan lifted his hand, hesitated- but when Sekh nodded, he let it rest on Astarion’s head, dared to toy with some of his soft, wild curls. The vampire purred, sliding along Rolan, a bare leg draping up over his legs. As he pet, his tail squeezed Sekh’s leg again, left the drow biting back a laugh.

“Rolan,” he said softly, drawing the tiefling’s attention back to him. “You’re tail.” Rolan looked confused, before Sekh felt the tip swishing- and oh, the color that flooded Rolan’s face at the realization. “I like it,” Sekh said quickly, afraid Rolan would let go of him, “it’s cute.”

Rolan clicked his tongue. “I’m many things- but cute? I don’t believe that is one.”

Astarion laughed, that whimsical high pitched sound that shook from his very soul. He pushed himself up then, loomed over Rolan, staring down at him with burning eyes. “You are quite cute,” he retorted, “dare I say even adorable.”

Rolan stared up at him, and Sekh understood the look of awe. He’d had it himself, countless times, looking up at Astarion with tussled, soft curls, that easy smile- the feeling that something close to the divine, something impossible was looking at you like you mattered.

He found he was incredibly pleased to have someone else experience it- no, not just someone else. Specifically Rolan- he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about just anyone else seeing the wonder that was Astarion, carefree and himself, in the morning.

One of Astarion’s hands found Rolan’s cheek, the back of his knuckles dragging along it gently. “I’m going to kiss you, little wizard,” he said, softly, “so if this isn’t… agreeable to you, tell me now.”

Rolan’s lips parted, a little breath- that tail that Sekh was slowly falling head over heels for squeezing his leg again. When Rolan didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, Astarion leaned down, pressed his chilled lips to Rolan’s warm mouth. Sekh watched Rolan’s eyelids flutter, watched as his hand reached for Astarion, cupped the back of his head gently. He knew the pressing and gentle movements of Astarion’s mouth, knew that the tip of his tongue would flick to Rolan’s lips-

And gods, he could see Rolan’s mouth open, by the movement of his jaw. Heard the groan the tiefling gave, as Astarion explored him lazily, the vampire casually grinding into his leg. Sekh reached out, grasped at Astarion’s hip, dared to pull him harder to Rolan, heard the vampire chuckle into Rolan’s mouth.

He could see the outline of Astarion’s cock, through his underwear. Knew Rolan had to feel it. His eager need when he was given even a moment of affection in the morning. It drove Sekh mad with sheer delight.

Astarion pulled from Rolan’s mouth, the tiefling gasping for a desperate breath. The vampire smiled over it, turned his head to look at Sekh. He held his stare for only a moment, before he reached for him, tangled his hand in Sekh’s free hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was nothing but sheer affection, a sweetness that could make Sekh dizzy. Astarion was smiling into it- and though it was brief, it felt timeless. “Now, darling,” Astarion whispered, pulling away and settling back, “if you don’t kiss Rolan right now, I think I am going to lose my mind.”

Rolan made a desperate noise at that, and Sekh moved quickly, bowing over him, finding his mouth. He felt almost mad, when he finally kissed him, an explosion of tension bursting inside his very being. Rolan surged against his mouth, seeming to recover from the stupor a kiss from Astarion could put one in, his hand finding Sekh’s waist, squeezing the bare skin. Sekh groaned, dragged his tongue along Rolan’s lips, pushed inside and teased all of those sharp teeth.

Rolan opened his mouth more for Sekh, head tipping back, giving him better access. As he did, Sekh heard the sound of lips on skin- Astarion, peppering Rolan’s collarbone and chest with little kisses. Sekh pinched his lower lip between his teeth, just as Astarion’s tongue dragged over one of Rolan’s nipples- the tiefling gasping, hips bucking.

Sekh released his lip, grinned. “Can I touch you, Rolan?” he asked, his own body buzzing with the sort of need that had his nerves screaming.

Rolan gave a desperate, wanton whimper- before he seemed to come back to himself, flushing and clearing his throat. “If… if you want to,” he managed, and Sekh giggled, shaking his head once.

Oh this man was precious.

Sekh slid down his body- sad that Rolan’s tail finally uncoiled from his leg- but paused at the tiefling’s chest, when Astarion looked up at him. He stole a desperate, messy kiss from the vampire, as his hand reached for Rolan’s pants, began undoing them.

“Be good to him,” Astarion said softly, a glint in his eyes that was all trouble and promise.

Oh, Sekh fully planned to be.

Astarion moved his attention to Rolan’s neck, lavishing it with kisses, his hand finding the tiefling’s pectoral and squeezing, before teasing his now overly sensitive nipple. Once his pants were undone, Sekh slid his hand in, felt Rolan’s cock straining against his underwear, fucking hard as steel and leaking precum into the fabric.

He felt dizzy, so dizzy and needy and hungry.

Rolan bucked his hips, bit at his lip as Sekh gave him a squeeze, before the drow freed him entirely from his clothing, pulled his cock into the open air of the room.

Rolan shivered, and Sekh let himself stare, for a moment. Rolan’s cock was decorated with ridges just like his body, thicker than Sekh had expected, with one textured ridge along the underside that was perfectly bumped, like the skin along his collarbone, over his shoulders.

Sekh squeezed his legs together, wanted to whine, wanted to feel Rolan pushing into him, feel the way all those textures could make his body scream. Another time, when the world wasn’t ending, when the threat of turning into a Mindflayer wasn’t imminent.

He gave him a slow stroke, watched as more precum beaded up at the head. Without even thinking, Sekh murmured, “your cock is so pretty,” and he heard Rolan gasp, whine, glanced up to see one of his hands covering his face.

“Don’t- don’t say that,” Rolan managed, as Astarion glanced down, took in Rolan’s cock himself.

Gods below, he licked his lips. “Why not?” he asked, moving to Rolan’s ear, breathing into it just loud enough that Sekh could hear, “it is.” Rolan arched as Sekh stroked him slowly, hand falling from his face as he began to pant.

Sekh glanced away, heard not even a moment later the wet, needy sounds of Astarion kissing Rolan, and bowed his head over the tiefling, pushed some of his hair behind his ear as he exhaled against his cock.

And, without any additional warning, took half of him into his mouth.

Rolan’s hips bucked, a desperate sound escaping his kiss with Astarion, as Sekh huffed a breath through his nose, his body aching. Rolan’s skin had a salty spice to it, something he couldn’t explain, but it made his mind begin to melt. He sucked gently, his hand stroking Rolan’s shaft, felt his cock throb against his tongue, a fresh wave of precum coating his mouth.

He eased lower, tongue rolling along that one long ridge, over each little bump- and he felt a hand in his hair, chilled fingers twisting in the locks, pushing him down slightly. Astarion. Sekh let the vampire guide him, took all of Rolan in, until his cockhead was pushing at his throat, the stretch making his jaw ache.

“Gods below,” Rolan gasped, as Sekh closed his eyes, bobbed his head. He placed a hand on Rolan’s hips, guiding them as they rocked towards his mouth. Astarion’s hand was still in his hair, and he could hear the vampire murmuring to Rolan, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Just the occasional good boy and see how well he takes you. Sekh kept his eyes shut, drowning in the dichotomy of feelings- Astarion’s cool touch, Rolan’s burning skin- Rolan’s needy whimpers, Astarion’s controlled voice.

It was everything, everything, everything.

“I won’t…last,” Rolan breathed out, causing Sekh to open his eyes, glance up his body. Astarion glanced down at that time, met his stare, had a devil smirk to his pretty face.

“We don’t want you to,” he said softly, peppering little kisses along Rolan’s jaw. “I want to see you fall apart- and I know Sekh wants to taste it. You can come for us, can’t you?” Rolan panted, and Sekh squeezed his hip, squirming himself, his tongue pushing at Rolan’s cock as it slid with such ease along his mouth, over and over again.

It was barely a moment later, when Rolan was arching, giving a little cry- body shaking as Sekh’s mouth was flooded. He swallowed around his cock, could feel it sliding past his lips anyway. It felt like years of simple pent up desire finally leaving the tiefling.

“That’s it, like that,” Astarion cooed, nuzzling into Rolan’s neck, grinding his own clothed cock into his hip. “Such a good boy. Give my darling a proper taste.”

Sekh teased with his tongue, sucked gently, until Rolan was relaxing. He kept teasing, even as the tiefling began to squirm, over sensitive now, as he could hear Astarion once again kissing him.

How that vampire did love to kiss and kiss and kiss.

Sekh pulled off then, licking his lips, feeling almost outside himself. His body was screaming for attention, his cunt drenched and aching- and yet, he ignored it completely. There was such a joy in being desperately aroused, that dragging it out until he was utterly mindless was- well, quite fun.

Instead, he moved quickly, grasped Astarion’s hips and turned them, so his ass was resting on the bed. The vampire groaned, hips bucking, missing the friction he had been getting from grinding into Rolan.

With a single movement, Sekh had his underwear tugged down, Astarion’s cock free- and then he was taking him over his tongue, all the way to the back of his throat in a deep movement, just the way Astarion liked it.

Astarion broke from his kiss with Rolan, gasping- the sound ending in a joyous laugh. “Ah- darling-yes.” He tipped his head back, hips rolling to match Sekh’s movements, one arm reaching up above him, draping on the pillows as he stretched out, bared himself.

Glorious, perfect.

Sekh kept his eyes shut, as badly as he wanted to glance up, to stare at Astarion- but he felt something tightening around his waist then- and gods, it was Rolan’s tail again, holding onto him.

It made his chest ache with an affection that was truly infectious.

He felt the tiefling shift, sitting up- and then his hands gathering up Sekh’s hair, holding it back. It was such a small gesture, but so sweet that Sekh almost felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes.

He felt one of Rolan’s hands move from his hair to his back, stroking his spine, soothing. Sekh wanted that hand on his waist, wanted it to grip him tightly-

Could imagine himself on Astarion’s cock, with Rolan holding on, watching with those hungry, hungry eyes- or riding Rolan, the tiefling clinging to him, desperate to not fall off the face of the realms.

Sekh moaned, the sound vibrating around Astarion’s cock. The vampire arched, breaths coming faster. “So good, my sweet, fucking-perfect.” Sekh placed a hand on Astarion’s thigh, squeezed affectionately, heard the vampire swallow thickly. “Do you want me to come in your pretty little mouth, my love?”

Sekh groaned, as Rolan’s breath hitched. His groan was enough of a response for Astarion, who smiled and let his bliss overtake him, cock throbbing as he came for Sekh. Sekh would have smiled himself, if his lips weren’t so perfectly stretched over Astarion’s cock.

Just like with Rolan, he let his tongue lavish Astarion’s cock through his orgasm, the vampire's hips rutting in shallow little thrusts. When the elf stilled, Sekh pulled off, sucked in a desperate breath, heading spinning. For a moment he swore he was seeing spots- white in his vision-

And then hands, hands on his face, Astarion pulling him up, kissing him so lovingly, so wantonly. Astarion, groaning over the taste on Sekh’s tongue- his cum, Rolan’s cum, all mingling into something intoxicating.

“Up, up love,” Astarion said, guiding Sekh up onto his knees. Without hesitation his deft fingers got Sekh’s pants open, pulling them and his underwear halfway down his thighs, exposing his burning cunt to the cool bedroom air.

Sekh panted, hips rocking, as Astarion turned his attention to Rolan- who was staring.

“Help keep him steady,” he said, “I fear his legs might give out. It happens when he’s… this desperate.” Astarion’s fingers moved to Sekh’s cunt, trailed over his lips, and then two slid inside with such ease that Astarion groaned. “Darling, you’re flooded.”

Sekh trembled, heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst through his ribs. Rolan’s tail clutched at his waist tightly, one of the tiefling’s hands now at his hips, helping to hold him. The other found his face, cupped it gently, and gods Rolan kissed him.

Sekh rocked down onto Astarion’s fingers, let Rolan’s tongue sample the taste in his mouth. The tiefling only kissed him harder, seemed to like it just as much as Astarion had.

Astarion’s mouth pressed to his chest, his fingers curling, making Sekh jerk away from the kiss, head dropping back, eyes wide. Every nerve within him was alight, aching and burning and screaming, as Astarion touched the sweetest spot inside him.

“I’ve got you,” Astarion said softly, lovingly. “Does it feel good, Sekh?” Sekh managed a nod, and Astarion turned his attention to Rolan, smirking. “Help me show him bliss.”

The hand on his thigh moved then, towards his cunt. Hesitantly Rolan touched the warm, soft skin, his middle finger finding Sekh’s clit and pressing against the overly hard bud. Sekh mewled, eyes wide, pupils blown, as Rolan touched him slowly. “Like this?” he asked, sounding nervous.

But Astarion hummed, began moving his fingers faster. “Be a bit rougher, he won’t break.”

Rolan pressed harder, and Sekh saw starbursts, his belly tightening up. Gods he was right there already, so close he could feel his orgasm nearly taking hold with each thrust of Astarion’s expert fingers.

And oh, Astarion could feel it. He was grinning, eyes adoring and full of desire as he watched Sekh. “That’s it love, I can feel how badly you want to come.” Another perfect curl at the knuckle, and Sekh was trembling, from his core. “Come on darling- show us both how good you can feel.”

Sekh’s mouth opened, eyes squeezing shut as his body listened, as if Astarion could simply pluck a single nerve inside him and make him come on command. He squeezed at Astarion’s fingers, cunt fluttering around him as his muscles spasmed, the knot in his belly bursting. He nearly yelled- would have, if Rolan hadn’t caught his lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing down the noise.

And all the while, he could hear Astarion murmuring, “that’s it, that’s my darling boy.”

Sekh felt his muscles growing loose, liquid like, as the orgasm ebbed. Rolan kept him upright, fingers leaving his clit to hold onto him. Astarion seemed less willing to leave his body- dared a few more delicious curls of his fingers, sending sparks up along Sekh’s spine, before pulling them free.

Sekh opened his eyes, just to catch Astarion popping both into his mouth, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes that told Sekh the moment night fell, he was going to take a proper taste.

The drow swallowed thickly, turned his attention to Rolan, who had moved back from the kiss just enough to be seen.

Eyes unbelieving, looking at Sekh like at any moment he was going to dissipate into the air. Like this couldn’t be real- that it couldn’t have finally happened.

Astarion leaned in, rested his chin on Rolan’s shoulder, arms going around his waist, hands trailing dangerously low- until one grasped at the tiefling’s already half hard cock, giving it a playful squeeze. “Ooh, look at you, nearly ready to go again.”

Sekh choked on a laugh, reaching down for his own clothing and pulling them back up over the swell of his ass, the curve of his hips. He didn’t bother closing them. “Astarion, I think you’ll kill him.”

The vampire pouted, but relented- instead very gently tucked Rolan back into his clothing, placing a rather affectionate kiss to his shoulder. Sekh pressed one to Rolan’s cheek as well, felt the heat of his flush. He wanted to kiss him again, to steal a few more moments of the morning-

But of course, fate couldn’t allow that. Sekh heard footsteps right outside Rolan’s door, just as a voice was saying, “Rolan, are you up? Lia wants breakfast and I might need you to help me find the kitchen.”

The door opened, and Cal filled the doorway, the words dying in a little choke as he caught sight of his brother, sandwiched so perfectly between Sekh and Astarion. Sekh glanced over his shoulder, gave Cal a grin because it was so good to see him- and the other tiefling burst into a beaming smile.

“Finally!” He yelled, before he turned, rushing off, yelling, “Lia- Lia- it finally happened!”

Rolan groaned, pulling himself from Sekh and Astarion and climbing out of the bed, quickly rushing after his brother, yelling for him to just wait a damn minute. Sekh and Astarion looked at each other, before they burst into laughter, the sort that twisted their bellies and made their chests ache.

It felt good.

“I feel like I should go rescue him,” Sekh offered, as Astarion finally adjusted his own clothing- his most intimate parts having been conveniently blocked by Rolan’s frame from Cal.

“Which one?” he asked, and Sekh just shrugged. He wasn’t sure, honestly. Astarion kept his smile, reached for him and took Sekh’s hand, forcing him to shuffle closer. “Go rescue our little wizard,” he agreed, and Sekh’s smile grew.

“Our,” he said, and Astarion just looked at him. “You said our. Usually you leave him all to me.”

Astarion pinched his lips together, cleared his throat. “Well, after… I mean, after this…I…” He sighed, and Sekh just placed a kiss to his temple.

“I’m teasing you, Starshine. What is mine is yours, now and forever.” A kiss to his cheek then. “Get dressed and come with me- we’ll have to get back to the Elfsong anyway.”

Astarion sighed. “Of course, can’t forget that we have tadpoles in our heads and that the realms are under threat by a trio of gods and a rampant, unruly Elder Brain. Why couldn’t we just have a nice calm morning for once? What happened to staying in bed and fucking half the day away?”

Sekh snorted, climbing from the bed, grabbing Astarion’s pants, discarded the night before, and tossing them to him. “We can do that once we’re done playing hero.”

The vampire huffed. “Darling, with you, I have a feeling we’ll never be done.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #rolan #astarion ancunin #sekh'met #sekstarion #bg3 tav #tavstarion #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #eternally yours

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imfluentinfangirlandgay · 11 months

Text

A Father's Resolve - Ch 1

Ingo returns after a decade - with two extra cars in tow. Years later, his kids are swallowed up by time in the same way he was. Will he be able to find them? Will they be able to make it out alive?

Word Count ~3000

"Kids, time for dinner!" Emmet called from the kitchen. Two sets of footsteps ran in the backdoor, giggling. "Make sure to wash up after being outside. Your father will be home soon."

The footsteps ran into the bathroom, followed by the sounds of a scuffle as they fought over who could have the sink first Emmet chuffed to himself. He remembered those days with Ingo.

He shut the back door to keep the cold air in and returned to the stove, finishing off the food and beginning to plate. Four empty plates got filled with potatoes, chicken, carrots, and some gravy each (except one, who did not like gravy).

The footsteps ran back to him, in the kitchen, two silver mops of hair taking up either side of him.

"When's Daddy gonna be home?" The boy asked on his left. Emmet handed him a plate.

"Any minute now. Take your plate to the table, please, Rei. And here you are, Miss Akari." He handed the girl the plate without gravy. She grinned up at him, one tooth missing in her mouth, as she ran off to join her brother. "Don't start until Ingo gets here. What do you two want to drink?"

No sooner had he asked than the door opened in the other room. The kids immediately hopped up and ran over. Emmet could hear laughter.

"Daddy!"

"Hello, cubs." Ingo removed his outerwear before he came into the kitchen, taking his own plate as well. "Thank you again for watching them, Emmet."

"Of course!" He loved his niece and nephew to bits. Even if they had been a big shock to him, he would trade them for nothing.

Emmet led the small party into his office. Ingo glanced around, alert. He ducked out and nabbed an extra chair from the break room down the hall and pulled the one from his desk forward, motioning for Ingo to sit down. He did so, allowing the two kids to sit on his lap. They dangled their legs between his, facing each other. They both still had tight holds on Ingo's coat.

Ingo seemed to have finally found his voice. "I'm very sorry but I have no idea who you are or where I am. I recognize you are someone I knew well before my sudden departure," he added as Emmet's heart stopped, effectively stopping that train of thought before it left the station, "but I lost all my memories when I first arrived at my other terminal. Please do not assume it is because I do not wish to remember, in fact, it bothers me greatly I do not. I have been trying to remember for years." He shifted the small figures in his lap.

Emmet bobbed his head slowly. "Well," he said slowly, "I am Emmet. I am your brother. Your twin, in fact." He kept a close eye on his brother’s eyes as he spoke. While Ingo's face was always set as stone, his eyes would always be a dead giveaway for his thoughts. Emmet paused and watched as some kind of recollection fell into them, some puzzle piece slotting into his expression. He lit up.

"Wait… I think I remember something now." His brows furrowed as he tried to think. "You were the one who was fond of the phrase 'I like winning more than anything else.' And we battled together inside that… oh I can't remember the word… the metal box on wheels."

Emmet blinked. "A… a train?"

"Yes!" His voice radiated warmth. "It was a train!" Had Ingo, his own brother and fellow conductor, forgotten what a train was? Ingo blinked. "Where are we?"

"This is my… our office," Emmet corrected. "Your desk was repurposed after a while…"

"Oh, that's quite alright. It was a shame I wasn't able to use it." A sadness entered his eyes as he glanced around, seeing some of the photos on the walls. Reminders for the station to run smoothly, pictures of the two of them.

The child on his left tugged at his sleeve and murmured something to him that Emmet did not catch. Ingo responded in a language that Emmet could not even guess what it was.

Curiosity ate at Emmet. "Who are these children?" He asked, cocking his head.

"Oh! I forgot to introduce you." Ingo looked down at the boy. "This is Rei." Rei looked away from him shyly, still unsure what was going on. "And this is Akari," he said, looking at the young girl. She was a bit more bold than her brother and waved. "They're mine."

Emmet's mind reeled even while his heart soared. Children? Amnesia? What language was he using? Why had he come back now? What was that tearing hole? "Ingo," Emmet asked, "where were you all this time?" He blinked. Before Ingo could continue, he stood. "Actually," he interjected. "Why don't we continue this track at home? I feel that the office is hardly the place to discuss this."

Ingo knitted his brows, but nodded. He set the two children down and they took his hands, still keeping close to his heels. Emmet opened the door to the office-

"Emmet, are you coming?"

Emmet jerked his head up and left the kitchen, sitting down at the table. "Apologies, I got distracted." Ingo had managed to wrangle the twins into their seats, and now that all four seats were filled, dinner could commence. Four silver heads dug in, the kids excitedly telling their father about their day between bites.

"And then Uncle Emmet took us to a creek and there were some Tympole in it! He said we couldn't swim in it in case they tried to fight us but they were really really cool," Akari was saying. Rei was nodding. Both of their eyes sparkled as they recounted their adventure hiking across Pinwheel.

"And some Trainer asked us to battle but we didn't have any pokemon so Uncle Emmet challenged them instead," Rei blurted, a mouthful of potato still inside.

"Rei, please swallow before talking," Ingo chided lightly. Then he swung his gaze to his brother. "Please tell me you went easy on them. Pinwheel is full of early Trainers."

"You wound me. Of course I didn't use my Subway team." He grinned. "I only used that Gurdurr I am training up. They fought quite valiantly and even managed to take it down."

Ingo nodded, satisfied. Emmet smirked. "And then with Eelektross-"

"Emmet, you didn't!"

Emmet laughed. "Of course not. I am merely teasing."

Ingo huffed as he brought another bite of steak to his mouth. Emmet had to stifle his laughter lest he spit out his food.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Hm," Emmet said, standing, "I wonder who that is. Were you planning company?"

Ingo shook his head.

Emmet crossed the living room and swung the door open. In the doorway stood a familiar figure. "Ah, hello, Elesa. Care to join us for dinner?"

She smiled, flicking back her hair. "Only because you asked so nicely."

Emmet rolled his eyes as she came in, pulling up a chair from the office for her. "There's more on the stove. Help yourself."

"Hi, Auntie Lesa!" Akari grinned at her as she swung for another bite of carrot.

Elesa smiled softly at the children and fixed her plate. "Hey there, squirts. Did you run your uncle in circles today?"

"Uncle Emmet took us to Pinwheel Forest today!" Rei started to climb out of his chair.

"Hold on there, kiddo, make sure to finish your dinner. You can tell me all about it while I'm eating."

She joined them at the table and the children talked and talked throughout the rest of the meal. The sun was beginning to go down now. Ingo cleaned up the dishes as the kids dragged Elesa to the living room to play with them. Emmet fed their pokemon dinner before heading that direction himself.

"And then you take this guy and put him in here," Rei was explaining. Elesa sat on her knees on the living room floor, off to the side of the couch.

After Ingo had returned with the twins, Emmet had done his best to find a larger home. At first, he thought Ingo may want to live alone with the kids, but it turns out being a single parent to two rambunctious twins was harder than it looked. It was not uncommon for the brothers to trade off who watched the kids every other day, making sure that the Subway always had at least one of the Bosses on any given day, except Sundays. Sundays were family days.

The home they lived in now was much more spacious than the one-bedroom apartment Emmet had downgraded to after Ingo's disappearance. It had a room for each of the children and the brothers shared a room. The pokemon seemed to approve as well. The backyard was the kids' favorite part. Usually they would run out in the mornings and not come in until evening, with the exception of meals. Whoever stayed home on a given day's pokemon team would take turns keeping an eye on and playing with the kids.

"That's neat, kiddo," Elesa was saying. Rei was showing her the toy car set they the twins raced with. Akari was showing her how they wound up. "What do you squirts want for your birthday?" Elesa asked them.

Since they had been born in a time without a 'proper' calendar and Ingo said they had fallen through the portal around the time of their birthday, they celebrated the anniversary of their return as their birthday.

Ingo had just put the two small children to bed. Emmet had insisted they could sleep on his bed for the time being, he really didn't mind the couch. Ingo could sleep with them, to help them feel safe.

"So… Hisui," Emmet said. Ingo came into the living room to talk. He had changed into a faded pair of Emmet's sweatpants and an old t-shirt. After a shower, his hair fell to about his shoulders. It was still damp.

"Yes?" Emmet offered Ingo the mug of tea he wanted, which he took.

"What was it like?"

Ingi sipped his tea as he thought about it. "Hisui was beautiful," he said finally. "It was almost the opposite of Nimbasa. It was wild, settlements of people were rare. The pokemon were wild and untamed. Forests gave way to beaches, mountains were untouched by humans. Everywhere was dangerous, there was always a chance of being attacked by anything. Even a passing Happiny had a chance to injure you gravely." He took another sip of tea before lowering his hands. "But there was something beautiful about it. Something about the danger made each day something special, something amazing. The sunsets were unparalleled. The breezes through the trees, the sunlight on the mountainside…" He set his mug on the coffee table. "I lived on the side of Mount Coronet. As such, there were a myriad of ravines and cliffs and sudden rockslides. After the twins were born, we had to be more cautious about where they were at all times. It was a chore to keep the two wrangled," he chuckled. Then he grew more somber. "Their mother passed right after childbirth. Medicine in Hisui was rudimentary at best and the chances of survival after any birth are never guaranteed. With it being twins… it was just too much."

Emmet reached over and patted his brother on the shoulder. He didn't really know what to say.

"They just turned five. They're my entire world." He glanced over to the bedroom that they were asleep in. "I just want them to be safe."

"And they will be," Emmet said. "Unova may not be paradise, but we do not have pokemon attacks, hardly ever. And now that you're back, you have help. You may not remember them, but we do have family and friends."

"We do?" The question slipped before Ingo even really thought about it.

Emmet nodded, a deep sadness permeating his bones. Yet another reminder that his brother had been swallowed up by time for a full decade with no idea who he was.

"Perhaps it is time to head to the home station for resting," Emmet said. "It has been a long day. We can continue discussing in the morning."

"I want a paint set," Rei said. "Daddy took us to a Daycare and they had paint there and let us make a drawing. Daddy put it on the fridge." He didn't look up from his car, the red one. The red one was his favorite, Emmet knew.

"I want a trampoline!" Akari squealed as she wound up the blue car, her favorite. She insisted it was the fastest. "I wanna jump really really high and touch the moon!"

Elesa snorted and ruffled the girl's silver hair. "If you do touch it, let me know if it's really made out of cheese, eh?"

"The moon is made of cheese?" Rei asked, finally looking up with his eyebrows knitted.

"Some people say it is. They say it's made out of stinky blue cheese." Elesa motioned up, to the ceiling, and presumably beyond that, the moon. "And that sometimes you can see the bite that a giant pokemon took out of it. That's why there's a hole there."

Akari's eyes were wide as she considered this. "Woah."

It was truly astounding how much they'd grown in the three years they'd lived in Unova, Emmet mused. The language had come fairly easily to them (though they still talked to each other in Hisuian sometimes).

Akari beckoned to Emmet. "Uncle Emmet, we still have the green car and we need another racer."

Elesa waved the yellow car at him. "Yeah come on, Uncle Emmet. Don't be a wet blanket."

Emmet rolled his eyes and fluffed up her hair. "Only if you're not."

"Emmet, you're such a pain."

"Me?" He asked, feigning ignorance as she tried to fix the mess of her hair Emmet had made. "I just wanted to come and race the green car."

"You both are horrible influences," Ingo grumbled from the kitchen.

"You know, eight is a pretty big birthday," Elesa said, ignoring Ingo’s comment.

"It is?" Akari asked her.

"That's the age I met your pops and uncle at," she said. "My mom was taking me for a trip to Opelucid and they were there with their uncle. We were just walking by when someone knocked me over and spilled a drink all over my dress. Turns out, Emmet hadn't been watching where he was running and he'd been chasing a Joltik. He yelled at me for being in the way and I got so mad, I chased him," she laughed. "Ingo was behind me trying to get me to not pulverize him. My mom started chasing me down. And their uncle Drayden was chasing all of us."

Emmet's face burned. "You were in my way."

That only made her laugh harder. "We caused so much trouble as kids."

"And I was usually trying to get you out of it," Ingo grumbled, drying his hands and coming over to sit by the group. "Don't listen to them," he said to the kids, "we were all in trouble all the time."

"I kinda felt bad for you, Ig. Though you often also got in on the stupid stuff we did."

"Like what?" Rei asked.

"No comment," Emmet said quickly, seeing his brother's warning glare.

"Did I ever tell you what they're named after?" Ingo had asked him one day. The twins were maybe six, playing with Haxorus in the garden.

"No, I do not believe so." Emmet and Ingo stood on the porch, watching them. The sun was warm, a light breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. They’d only been living in the house for a couple months now. There was still a lot to do in terms of making it a home, but Emmet needed a break. So he stood outside with his brother, leaning on the railing in identical fashion.

"Did I tell you the story of the Heroes of Hisui?" His eyes stayed trained on his children, always alert, even though Haxorus was more than capable of handling them.

"Bits and pieces."

"There was a time when Hisui was riddled with space-time distortions," Ingo started. "I know I mentioned those. One of those is what we fell through when we landed in the Subway. A massive rip in space-time hung just over the center of the region, in Mount Coronet. And one day, two teenagers fell out of it and landed right next to Jubilife. Soon after, the Nobles, I told you about those, started to be struck by strange lightning and going into destructive frenzies. They completely mauled anyone who came near and even killed one or two.The two teenagers calmed the Nobles as they were struck and built up a reputation. I met them myself once, and guided them through the Highlands."

He paused in his story to watch Akari as she hopped for a tree branch, pointing to it and calling to Haxorus. It lifted her up, allowing her to pluck a ripe Oran from its branches, and set her down gently.

"And then the sky changed. It was awful, Emmet. Something I'd never wish to see again. I am not sure what happened, but the heroes fixed the sky. They fixed the rift, too. And soon after, they disappeared. I'm not sure what happened to them, but I always hoped they got to return home. Wherever they belonged. The twins’ mother wanted to name them after the Heroes to bring them luck and courage."

Emmet nodded beside him, watching Rei run circles around Haxorus to try to grab her tail. "I think they are honorable names. They suit them."

If Ingo could smile, he would have.

[First] - [Next]

#submas #subway boss ingo #subway bosses #my writing #ingo #pokemon #subway master emmet #subway master ingo #pokemon rei #pokemon akari #pokemon legends arceus

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hrodvitnon · 5 months

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Dual dialogue challenge, 1/2. :)

Canon!Simmons meets Abraxas!Maia. (I'm curious to see how canon!Simmons reacts to meeting a Maia who isn't slavishly devoted to him and has much more agency of her own.)

Canon!Simmons: Ah, Maia! Come to see the progress on my pride and joy, have you?

Abraxas!Maia: You know, when a man describes something as his "pride and joy" one would think he's referring to his child.

Canon!Simmons: Oh, don't be so jealous, you're as dramatic as Serizawa. You have your uses, as does the mech! The mech simply has a purpose greater than any of us.

Abraxas!Maia: Right. The mech designed to kill Godzilla, the Nukasaurus Rex that saved the world multiple times. The mech that's hooked up to the skull of an alien destroyer of worlds, which came close to rendering us all extinct without Godzilla in the picture. I can't wait to see how this can possibly go wrong.

Canon!Simmons: My patience has its limits and you've hit them, young lady. I did not raise you to be an insubordinate contrarian!

Abraxas!Maia: *uproarious laughter*

Canon!Simmons: What--? Do you think I'm funny?!

Abraxas!Maia: You're fucking hilarious, old man! "I did not raise you" -- motherfucker, what you did was not "raising" me! You told me to be content with what I have because you could take it away if my chin so much as trembled! If I asked for the smallest little thing for my birthday you'd say "make valedictorian or I'm dropping you off on a random street corner to fend for yourself!"

Canon!Simmons: Your education -- which was the most expensive investment a parent can possibly make, might I add -- was vital to your role!

Abraxas!Maia, dripping with sarcasm: Yes, and I'm sure any child would be so grateful to have a full ride scholarships to the most prestigious universities on the planet dangled in front of them like a carrot on a string! I'm sure any child would be glad to have been dropped off in the middle of Bumfuck Detroit to learn the discipline that daddy's favorite school didn't hammer into my skull!

Canon!Simmons: YOU were the one pissing and moaning my ear off about "gap year" this and "sabbatical" that! Do you have any idea how many important meetings and calls I have to make in a single day?! I don't have time to listen to such bohemian pipe dreams!

[Canon!Simmons gets in close, grabs Maia's coat lapel. He looks like he might get physical.]

Canon!Simmons: You are a Simmons! You don't get to spend a year anywhere that will plant little hippy-dippy shit into your brain! You wanted a sabbatical so badly, I gave you one to teach you some common goddamn sense! No daughter of mine--

Abraxas!Maia: I'm not your daughter. I was never your daughter. I am nothing but a pet to you. And pets can run away.

Canon!Simmons, quietly: Excuse me?

Abraxas!Maia: You're excused.

[Canon!Simmons cracks his hand across her face.]

Canon!Simmons: GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! YOU ARE OFF THE PROJECT! USELESS BITCH!

Abraxas!Maia, walking out: Gladly. I'm gonna laugh my ass off if your oversized toy gets you killed! Also, you hit like a bitch.

[Abraxas!Maia leaves while Canon!Simmons screams his face blue. She meets up with Abraxas!Ren, who is rubbing split knuckles.]

Abraxas!Ren: Oh... are you okay? What happened?

Abraxas!Maia, exhales deeply: Trauma dumped. He got handsy.

Abraxas!Ren: Do you need me to do anything? I'm not afraid of beating up someone who hits his child.

Abraxas!Maia, smiling: That would be amazing, but probably not necessary. I've got something that'll hurt him even worse. *pulls out a flash drive*

Abraxas!Ren: Is that his personal files? How'd you get that?

Abraxas!Maia: Learned how to pickpocket during my sabbatical in Detroit. What do you say we go get a coffee and spill the old man's guts with this little thing?

Abraxas!Ren, grinning: It's a date.

#zerm2v0hg #zerm1v0hg #maia simmons #abraxasverse

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alyjojo · 1 year

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August 👨🏽‍🏫 2023 Monthly - Sagittarius

Whole of your energy: 4 Cups rev

Everyone is pulling the Carrot card this month already, usually when that happens it’s something going on that affects everyone. This month is Venus retrograding in Leo, and your reading isn’t regarding love so much as your money 💯 Your Oracle card of Confidence along with 9 Wands has “Eye of the Tiger” and a Rocky theme as my background brain noise in your reading, and it’s cute, it applies. Carrot is telling you not to give up, and so is 9 Wands 🧡 You’re afraid of missing an opportunity to shine, probably in regards to your career, or even school, classes, training, a document of some kind you’re waiting on, or waiting to sign and make official. You just want things to work out for the best.

What’s going on in August:

The High Priestess:

You are keeping mum about what’s going on in your world, because things aren’t official yet. You’re quietly working on something you’ve been dreaming up for some time now, and I also get people around you celebrating good news, so it’s like you’re stepping back and letting them have their moment. Your news isn’t newsworthy yet anyway, it’s more like a welcome distraction to celebrate others and take any questions off of you & what you’ve got going on. You’re secretly hoping it’s going to work out, whatever it is, and that the opportunity presented to you has real potential, money, rewards, bonuses, perks. You aren’t sure something is made of sand or dreams yet, but you have high hopes for it.

Knight of Wands:

Whatever you’re planning is definitely a “level up” from where you’ve been, and I get work for most of the Sags I’m reading for. Knight of Wands is quietly & secretly becoming a King of Wands, a lot of you are going for higher level positions in your company or different companies, or that is the ultimate goal you’re working towards. You’re tired of feeling like a small fish in a big pond, it’s BIGGER fish time, but you’re also being secretive about it…in case it doesn’t work out, no one is let down or even knows but you. What others think means a lot to you in this instance, and your Oracle of Confidence shows this could be a challenge for you, thinking you’re good enough, smart enough, have enough experience, etc. I’m getting you 100% do, are, have, and you deserve this.

6 Wands:

Victory! Success! Promotion! The Sun follows this, you can’t get better cards for what you’re trying to achieve. King of Cups could be someone you have a good relationship with that’s helping you get where you need to be, some manager in the company that values your contributions and gives your resume the stamp of approval, or puts in a great word for you. This could also be someone close, a friend of yours, that’s celebrating a happy occasion and you’re just having the best time mid-month with friends and the people around you. Good news & recognition are attached to this success.

The Sun:

Another card of success and promotion, and a lot of positive attention, you will be the star of the show in many ways this month! 9 Cups shows a wish or dream coming true, that same dream you’ve been quietly working on and worrying over for some time, everything is turning out exactly as you hoped it would ☀️

9 Swords:

Still you worry! This seems to be regarding a past situation you’re afraid will play out like it did once before. You have questions like, will you regret this change? Will you have enough money? Is it all changing too fast? Am I missing anything? What if this isn’t right? And your oracles & the entire reading show this being a very positive month for you, you only need to persevere through your own anxiety, believe in yourself, and focus on having the most successful outcome you’re dreaming of. The only negative energy here is you beating yourself up and worrying about it. If you’ve experienced rejection in the past, let it go, I get that this time is not that time and then is not now, have faith in yourself, the quality of whatever it is you’re doing, and Spirit 🧡

Signs you may be dealing with:

Cancer, Sagittarius, Leo, Gemini, Scorpio & Virgo

Oracles: ✨

79 Success

Enjoying your life and the unfolding of your creative abilities as much as possible is real success.

77 Confidence

Know and feel this affirmation, beyond a doubt: “I AM all that I need to get what I want.”

We enter into August as:

Pink From Pinkton 💗

“I am more than I think I am.”

Pink shows us the process of self-awareness. Are you trying to recapture a past moment that no longer fits? You may have outgrown something, and while it can be a challenge to admit it, being fully who you are is much more glorious than trying to fit yourself into the past. If you are presently upset or struggling with a difficult situation, it may be because you are trying to make something work when it simply can’t. You may be seeking to keep something far less than what you deserve. With self-awareness and discovery comes a new obligation, using your new knowledge. New ideas, projects & opportunities can only come if you stop blocking them.

What is to be learned in August:

The Carrot Colored Cloak 🥕:

“Don’t quit before the miracle!”

You are being told that changing your direction at this time is not wise. We never know where our miracles lie in the path, often just beyond the boundary of our faith. You may not see it, but it lies ahead. When we do the work that is chosen for us, we are serving a higher order, and if we stop we upset the balance of our lives. Stick with it and have blind faith, an exciting change is coming. You must press on in the direction of your vision, what you’re working for will come to fruition.

Orange may be a lucky color 🧡

#sagittarius tarot reading #Sagittarius #august 2023 #monthly tarot reading #tarot #tarotblr #Spotify

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wanderingpages · 2 years

Text

.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

Madoc has been absolutely no help at all. “You sure?” He asks this two days after the party, when I called to confess about the shit I pulled with Locke.

“Yeah,” I deadpanned. “She hates Care Bears. Or maybe just the yellow one.”

“They do seem like annoying little things,” he mused.

“Madoc.” There’s no way this is a serious job, I had figured. This is punishment for blowing up Asha and Balekin. The only thing that had kept me from going absolutely insane was Elvira. Her head rubbed against mine as if to tell me to calm down and watch my blood pressure, because I’m way too young to be having it spike like this. “I saved her from Carrot -Top. Is that not enough for you? Can you give me something to shoot at now?”

“No,” he said, “To both. I need information from this girl, King, and you’re going to fucking get it for me. So she knows your name. Alright, go back and get to know her for real. No better way of getting information than to actually talk to her.” Except I have no idea how to organically slip into this girl’s life without revealing what a stalker I am.

So, I don’t, partly to stick it Madoc because I haven’t heard from him since that conversation ended, and partly because this is fucking tedious and kind of wrong even for my standards. It’s like I’d be grooming her for slaughter or something. “I should just kill her and get it over with, right?” I ask Elvira but she’s half asleep so I don’t really expect an answer. I run a knuckle over her ear and her nose twitches the way I remember Jude’s does.

I sigh, it’s been nearly a week now and trailing Jude is really not the highlight of my life. I’m running on coffee and blow. If I don’t get at least some semblance of peace, I might actually go into cardiac arrest. There’s only so much asinine things I can take for a whole week. I should probably be perched on a tree watching Jude sleep or paint her toenails or something but I need a fucking break. I check my phone to see a new message. I had requested a background check after Madoc’s joke of a phone call and it seems like there’s a dossier ready for me. I leave Elvira to sleep, shutting the door so no one gets the chance to bother her. It’s not exactly my place, but Dain’s instead. Technically, the late Mayor Eldred’s estate, so to speak, but he’s dead on paper, and most likely in some foreign country trying to find us a new step mom to corrupt, or trying to push Mab’s Specialty trans-continental.

It’s rare that I ever use this way to leave, usually it’s a flight of stairs at the back off the house that leads straight to the garage, so I feel a bit out of bounds as head towards the grand staircase. As it is, Dain is throwing one of his stupid little shitshow parties. It’s blacklight themed tonight, and when I enter the central landing, nothing but the white shirt I have on glows. There’s buckets of paint lining up the wall leading to the living room. Someone immediately greets me and offers to paint between the lines of the ink etched into my skin. “I think it’d look cool if we paint this one,” she winks, tapping a long and glowing nail to my neck. “I’ll take extra time to get the scales all right,” she promises, dragging the nail down my neck. I grab her wrist and pull it off me but I don’t let go.

“What if I want your lips on me instead?” I glance at her bright pink lips, then tap at my cheek and she giggles before reaching up and kissing me there, no doubt leaving a glowing mark on my skin.

“Is that the only place you wanted my lips?” she slides her hand from my hold then against my chest, slowly working down. I’d rather have them wrapped around my cock but I hold back, giving her a wink before the door opens and group of people walk in.

“Looks like you’ve got more customers to paint,” I tell her. She pouts but tends to them when I start to walk towards the living room, already disoriented with the décor. I’ve never been here when there wasn’t a party, and every single time, nothing has ever remained the same. To my surprise, I spot Locke nearly instantly. I scowl, thinking I should have gone back to the party that night and finished the job, because it annoys me immensely that that ginger slut is at this party, mouth breathing dust off of some girl’s tits. How’d he even get an invite? For as smart as Dain is, he’s also two parts dumb when it counts. No doubt he posted on his social media something along the lines of “party at mine, you know where it is.”

Tempted as I was to go back that night though, I had ended up watching Jude. She was smart enough to let me drop her off a few blocks away from her house, guess her braincells returned to tell her probably not to trust a strange man with a gun. I followed her on foot, watched her key in a code to a three story showpiece, then I actually did sit perched on a tree, like a fucking vampire.

Finding Locke seemed unnecessary when I suddenly got a show of her shimmying out of her second skin-like leggings then falling face first into her plush mattress, pert ass in the air, clad in something lace and not much else. Halfway through the night, my sweatshirt came off of her, and while that stayed on the bed next to her, the ripped shirt and then her bra had been tossed to the floor. I watched her grab hold of my sweater, pull it against her breasts and hike her leg up to further trap it against her body. My face feels warm, thinking about it and I try to ignore the semi in my pants.

I spot my brother, his nose is practically scraping the inside of his wrist, trying to get every last particle of coke possible until he can’t anymore, so he opts to lick the residue off. When he finds me, his eyes light up. “Grade A,” he tells me, like it’s his first time tonight. He tosses me the half full dime bag, but I figure I’m at my limit for the day, so I pocket it. I nod over to his wife, who’s beside him tonight. It’s unusual to see them together so I can’t help but watch when he reaches over her and pulls at the girl Locke was nosing. The Manic Panic blue in her hair glows bright, along with the pink and green swirls on her body that look smudged with hand prints. It takes me a moment to recognize her when our eyes meet. She had been one of the girls who had arrived to the party with Jude the other night. She doesn’t recognize me, or if she did, she’s too blissed out to even try to piece it together.

I frown at the way my heartbeat picks up, hoping that Jude hadn’t followed her here of all places. She’s not here though; I have to remind myself, I had left her fast asleep just a couple of hours ago. I wonder, if maybe it would be better if she was part of this crowd, though. That way I wouldn’t feel so guilty trailing an innocent girl, right?

Dain’s hands are tugging the straps of the blue-haired girl’s dress down, while his wife pulls her hair to the side, and sucks at her skin. they’re in plain sight, but so is everybody else. It’s nearly two I the morning, and the party, as per usual, is gradually turning into a drugged out orgy.

“You like watching?” I feel a tug at my arm before a girl plasters herself against me. Her hair glows like flames under the UV lights. Her hand runs down to my belt and she may want to fuck me, but it’s the baggy she’s after when she fumbles into a pocket.

“I want to watch you,” I play along, taking her arm. “On your knees,” I tell her and when she looks up at me, I see she’s even got colored contacts that match her hair. I nod towards the other side of the room. She grins, pulling my hand to follow her to the door there. The room should be a garage, but it’s been converted since Eldred’s “passing” and is now used by Dain to tattoo his clients. I reach for the lights, but there’s no need; I know this place inside and out, being that I’ve been Dain’s client more than a few times. If Dain ever needed a portfolio, he could easily use my body as a progress board. From sloppy doodles and harsh line work to seamless shading and gorgeous artwork; I didn’t care at first, I think I just wanted all those ugly marks covered. It wasn’t until a few years ago when I really requested meaningful shit from him.

I figure I have enough time to kill now, so I let my new flame lead me to a small stool, before she drops to her knees for me. The get up looks cheap in the florescent lights, but she’s still pretty and I don’t want her sucking me off any less. So, I sit down and lean back, spread my legs for her while she unbuckles my belt and goes for my zipper. I reach and pull her shirt down, pretty nipples greet me all taught and perky. Not real, but I like them anyways. I run my thumb over them as she pulls my length out, still partially hard from thoughts of Jude earlier. I groan and grab a fistful of her hair, guiding her head when she starts to tongue me.

My grip tightens when the door opens and I peek an eye open to see Ghost raise only one brow at me, the one I convinced him to let me pierce so many years ago. She starts to bob her head against me and I really wish he’d go away, but when he doesn’t, I let loose a sigh and ask, “What?”

He rolls his eyes, “If I wanted to watch, I’d have been quiet about coming in.”

“Yet here you are,” I eye him through lidded eyes, from the head and maybe from the come down. I know he’s being spiteful because that dossier can wait a few extra minutes and absolutely nothing will change between what I’m doing and how that involves Jude.

“Trust me,” he says, “I found something that’s going to rock your world harder than this broad ever could.”

“Hey,” I chastise, halfheartedly. Sometimes I wonder what era this guy thinks he’s from. Broad? “It better not be your dick again,” I say as an afterthought. “I will throat punch you.”

“What’s a few dick pics between bros?” he grins, “What does she want?”

“Coke,” I manage when she takes me deeper. It’s hard staying hard when he won’t stop watching. It’s not the first time he’s been around while I fucked somebody, but it sure is so goddamned bright this time and I’m a hell of a lot sober than usual. He walks towards the minifridge and grabs a silver can. Its diet Coke I realize when he tosses it to me. I catch it, and the jolt makes her gag. I grimace and tap her shoulder, guiding her off of me. “you’re a piece of shit,” I tell Ghost. I swipe at the side of her mouth, pressing my thumb to her lips. She sucks it, looking up at me with wide eyes. it makes me pause for a moment, because for a split second, those gross orange contacts look unnervingly light brown. That startles me more because usually in my daydreams, its green eyes looking up at me.

“Sorry,” I tell her, handing her over the can. “Maybe next time.”

She looks confused, grappling at the can. I fix her shirt for her helping her up. She’s perplexed and put out, but I don’t get time to say much else to her because Ghost takes her hand and guides her out, looking like a princely escort to a ball rather than what it really is. This time turning the lock when the door shuts. I run a hand through my hair unable to stay annoyed or in my head much longer because Ghost is walking towards the back of the room, to the other door that leads outside. I fix myself and follow him out to the lake. Its dark as hell looking on to the other side, but not enough to make me forget I had lived on that side. The shitty poverty stricken side where the drug use isn’t as glamorized as it is here, but just as profound. That’s the side Mab’s Specialty thrived on.

The Spanish moss rustles against the cypress tree at the center of the backyard. I look up to see Valerian sitting on a branch. He waves down at me, but his eyes are focused on the windows, or rather through them. He’s not much for parties, or crowds or any type of exposure to germs, but he’s always been a curious onlooker and that cypress tree is his favorite vantage point.

He jumps off, landing like he could have gone to the Olympics for it and takes a seat on a fallen log near a doused fire pit. Ghost sits beside him, a good distance away to appease him. He reaches into the inside of his jacket and hands me a rolled manila folder. I trade off with the bag of blow I don’t really want anymore. “I didn’t even have to suck your dick for it,” he grins.

“No,” Valerian muses, quietly, “but you did have to kiss his ass.”

“Whatever,” Ghost finds a rolled blunt in his pocket and hands it over to Valerian, “Didn’t forget you, baby, this is for you.” Valerian reaches for it, then the lighter I thought I lost a few days ago. I should have known Ghost pocketed it.

I straighten out the folder then open it, not surprised to see Jude’s government name at the top. Its surface level information, stuff that I could have gotten off the college board’s back log, but far more than anything Madoc had given me, that’s for sure. I look at Ghost, in time for him to wave his hand lazily, “Turn the page.”

I narrow my eyes, not liking how grim his attitude had gotten. My stomach is already sinking, but nothing could prepare me for what I see next. “But…how?”

My heart is so loud in my ears, I’m surprised I even hear when Ghost explains, “they weren’t in the same grade, but they spent a few summers together. Summer camp,” he explains.

“One hell of a coincidence,” I mutter, looking at the grainy cropped photo of two girls with their arms around each other, smiling at the camera. The girl on the left has bright eyes, freckles dot her face and I know it only ever heightened due to sun exposure. Her dark blonde hair is pulled high on her head and I try not to think about how short she had cut it after we met. Her face is much younger than the face I knew, but there’s no mistaking her. I feel sick and maybe a little guilty, unable to stop myself from remembering the last time I saw her. Unable to stop myself from remembering the last night I held her.

I trace the side of her face, my throat feeling constricted suddenly. “This is fucked, even for Madoc,” Ghost tells me, and he’s right. Madoc had been the one to find me that night, after all.

For once, I’m the one screening calls. I don’t answer when he tries to reach me, and it’s been at least once a day for the past few weeks. I send him a quick text, probably to make sure he knows I'm still alive. I can’t talk to him yet. I don’t know what I’d say. It’s one hell of a punishment for starting a fire, that’s for fucking sure. He’ll be happy to know I’m still trailing Jude, though. If anything, the revelation of her knowing my dead girlfriend – dead fiancée – only intrigues me more.

I thought I had Jude’s schedule down pat, she hardly ever deviates from walking to school, going to the gym, meeting up with her friends and studying. But she’s been self isolating for the past few days. At first I thought it was a cold or something. Then she started shutting her blinds and I thought maybe I’ve been found. But even when she peeks through gauzy curtains, her eyes never quite find mine.

So now, I’m squatting in a car with Ghost who’s chugging coffee like his life depends on it. His free hand flies over the keyboard of his laptop, making stupid little clicking sounds. Still, I rather him than Valarian at the moment. I may trust Valarian with my life but I don’t quite trust him with other people’s lives and right now, I’m assuming Jude is still wanted alive and all that. Besides that, he’d probably bleach the hell out of my car and suffocate us with the smell. He’d nitpick everything then probably dissect the spider I'm pretty sure I saw scurry across the dash a few minutes ago.

Ghost is also good with computers. He’s been sitting with me, going through Jude’s security feed for the last few hours. It’s what’s getting me on edge now, if I’m honest. He pauses to open the lid of his cup and pour in some white powder. He places the laptop on the console between us and scrubs through about a week’s worth of the Jude Show. It makes me uncomfortable how easily he had gotten through the system.

She seems like a normal person going through the motions of her day. Ghost occasionally stops the speed for some kind of dramatic effect, “I’m humanizing her,” he tells me when I give him a look. “She’s still a person, you know.”

“What’s the saying? Dead girl walking?”

She eats, he scrubs through, she changes clothes, he scrubs through, she studies from three different books, he scrubs through, answers a phone call, laughs, hangs up, he scrubs through, eats, showers, yoga, looks at her home décor like she’s never seen it before, picks up a vase, puts it down, tilts her head at a wall, scrunches her nose when she looks at photos, leaves to check the mail, tosses the stack on a table, answers a call, scrub, scrub, scrub – and I’m losing my absolute mind.

“This is weird,” I tell him. Had we even gotten through a single day?

“Really weird,” Ghost admits, “watch,” he tells me, and I don’t understand what he wants me to see by showing me the same day over again. Until I realize it’s not the same day when I recognize she’s got on a completely new set of clothes. This time, when she takes a phone call, her face isn’t pleasant. She hangs up angrily and I blink, startled when she throws the cell against the wall. She seems to let out a scream before dropping to the floor and burying her face into her knees. If she had been this dramatic while I was on her tree, I might have been less bored.

“Call logs?” I ask. He minimizes the window and shows me a pdf file of her cellphone statements before clicking off and going back to the feed. “Why does she keep looking at the wall?” my brows furrow when it seems like a new day has started and Jude is standing in front of a wall with her hands on her hips. Her phone must be dead or broken because I still make out the device right where it fell. “Why is she so heavily surveillanced?” it’s a belated question because maybe I hadn’t really been focusing before, but it is a little daunting to see all the separate feeds in what’s supposed to be someone’s home. Surrounding the property is understandable, but inside? Even Dain’s estate – the Mayor’s House – isn’t as watched as this.

Scrub, scrub, scrub, Jude is sitting cross legged in her living room floor, a laptop open in front of her. She skims over something before quickly shutting the laptop. I can’t make out her face, her back is to the camera, but she looks tense. I think Ghost has paused the video for a moment, but then she reaches for the laptop again. She clicks around, a lot, more and more frantic every time she hits the keypad. She shuts the laptop again and leaves the room, coming back with a sledge hammer.

“Jesus,” Ghost mutters watching her repeatedly bash her laptop to pieces. Its starts to look mechanical after a moment, then she drops the hammer to the ground and wipes at her forehead. She leaves and comes back moments later, this time with a change of clothes – a sweatshirt I didn’t think I’d see again – and a set of blankets. She grabs the sledge hammer and holds it to her chest after taking a seat on the floor. I'm sure there’s still laptop guts all over the floor, but she seems unfazed, wrapping the blanket around her. She’s a completely different person from the girl I had been following around for a month.

Idly, I wonder if she’s parent trapped me at some point. Ghost scrubs again but something off camera catches my eyes. By no means are we on an empty road, but there’s not a lot of traffic either. It’s not hard to notice when the same car drives by multiple times. I narrow my eyes before I turn back to the screen. Jude is looking at that wall again. Suddenly she reaches and half her body is obscured until she returns, this time with a crossbow I can only imagine had been mounted to the wall.

“Beginning to think miss girly pop is a danger to herself, at this point,” Ghost mutters, throwing back the rest of his coffee. I won’t pretend to know the ins and outs of a bow, so I'm not even sure she knows what she’s doing when she raises it close to her face, squinting into what looks like a telescope. The handle resembles that of a gun, so I can make out when she plays with the trigger. “Think they taught this in summer camp?” only vaguely do I remember Sophie saying something about knowing to aim a bow, but I think I always assumed it was a manual one. I’m not sure of the relevance just yet, but I stopped believing coincidences quite some time ago.

The car passes by once more and Jude manages to find arrows the next time I see her. “What the fuck kind of trojan was in her laptop?” Ghost muses. “Oh shit,” he sits up a little straighter, and my eyes go wide. I know its prerecorded, but it still feels like her eyes have pierced through my soul when she looks directly into the camera. She raises the bow, aims, then shoots. The screen goes black. Ghost is fast in finding another camera, but the closest one only shows the hallway leading to the living room. I can make out the blankets on the floor and pieces of hardware, but no Jude.

“What’s the timestamp on that?”

“Eight hours ago.” He scrubs ahead, but I already see the car drive by yet again. I find my gun and check the clip. “Fuck,” Ghost mumbles, closing his laptop and finding his own arsenal is secured. “What the fuck did Madoc get you into?”

The next time he calls, I’m going to beat his ass.

“Knew I should have stayed home today,” he whines like I’m Miss Frizzle, but it’s in jest because he looks too excited to really be complaining. I check my watch, thinking we’ve given them enough time to throw the alarm and break the door handle. We walk through the front door because I was right about the timing. I check my watch again, assuming we’ve got only a handful of minutes before the landline rings, and if that’s not answered, cops will be dispatched within minutes. I love a good countdown moment.

We stand on either side of the doorway leading into the living room. It’s a standoff, and I’d laugh at the scene if this was any other occasion; two men pointing their guns at a girl in her pajamas while she, in turn, holds a crossbow. Physics hadn’t been my favorite subject, but I’m well aware a bullet is faster than an arrow, so it’s not looking too swell for Katniss over there.

Ghost and I are directly behind the men, but if Jude notices, she doesn’t acknowledge. She’s got a tight set to her lips, and I frown when I glimpse her eyes. “Come on little lady,” the slimmer of the men says with humor. He’s got a slight German accent. “Put the toy down, we don’t have time to sit and play.” The other man chuckles. I don’t think Ren and Stimpy quite know what they’re dealing with. In retrospect, I don’t think I know either.

“You should leave,” Jude says, and it makes the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end. I glance to Ghost, wondering if he’s caught the monotony. He puts a hand to his chest, lets out a quiet “Sheesh,” and mouths, “Be still, my beating heart.” I frown at him.

“You just give us what we want and no one has to get hurt,” Stimpy says.

“What… you want…?” Jude’s brows furrow. “No,” she tells them. The phone rings.

“Answer it,” Stimpy tells her.

“No,” she says again. Her head tilts when she finally looks beyond them, to Ghost and I. Rather, just me.

She yelps when Ren shoots her arm. She pulls the trigger on instinct, the bow pierces into Stimpy’s throat. Ghost fires three rounds before Ren can react. The crossbow drops from Jude’s hand and she holds her arm. Blood flows over her fingers, and she gasps, looking up to Ghost, panic in her eyes when he walks closer. “You shot me?”

He doesn’t correct her, just bends to pick her discarded weapon. “Don’t scream,” he tells her sternly. Her mouth clamps shut. Her eyes start to water. I step over scraps on the floor and grab the landline that still rings. She sucks in a breath when her eyes meet mine again. It’s almost as if she had forgotten I was there.

“Sorry,” I tell her, “Nothing personal.” Except, maybe it is. I walk behind her, hold the phone to her ear, my gun to her temple. “Answer.”

She squeezes her arm tighter, but says, “Hello?” Ghost kneels beside Ren, lifting his wrist to pocket his watch and double check his pulse. “No,” Jude says, voice going steady. She stands still, and her blood starts to spill on to the floor. “No, everything is fine,” she tells them. She answers their questions stoically, then says goodbye. I hang up and toss it to the blanket pile on the floor. Not a moment later, Jude’s knees give out and I catch her before she can hit the ground. Ghost glances at us, before flicking the jutting end of the arrow. Stimpy is still alive, but not enough to pull info from.

Ghost checks his wallet and I shoot him to stop that gurgling noise he’s making. It stops, so I tuck my gun to the waistband of my jeans before hoisting Jude up, not unlike the night we met, except this time, she’s out cold.

A while later, I’m sitting in Dain’s tattoo garage, on the stool set in front of the tattoo chair Jude is currently seated on, still unconscious. Ghost had stayed back for damage control and Valerian is currently dabbing Jude’s face with a wet rag having already tended to her flesh wound earlier.

“She’s pretty,” he says. I scowl when he leans in and pecks her lips. “I hope her body stays intact when you kill her,” he continues his creepy perusal, running the rag along her cheekbone. He takes a step back, “We just have to wait until she’s up, now.”

“Fuck that,” I get up, annoyed with Valerian, annoyed with Madoc, annoyed with Jude, and Locke and Ren and Stimpy, and my patience has worn thin. I tap her cheek, softly then a little harder. Admittedly, she looks much better when the color blooms in her pale cheeks. I go to try a harder tap, but her hands reach up and clasp my wrists just as her eyes flash open.

My lips twitch. “Morning, Jude,” I tell her.

She blinks, her hold on me loosening, brows furrowing, “Cardan…?”

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Masterlist

#Dark AU #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #jurdan smut #jurdan au #jurdan fanfic #lots of differences b/t this and version 1's ch2 #the folk of the air #tfota au #tfota fanfic #tfota #tcp #twk #tqon #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing

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fastenwick · 11 months

Text

Wick's Invader Zim characters meeting Wick's other OCs: Part One

Bolt (young Aik Membrane) meets Sal Quinton

(Ft @aik-membrane 's young alt, and mentions of @ukagaka-zim )

Two characters are put in a nearly empty room. No doors, windows, or decor. Just two chairs, a table with food, and a note. The note reads "Enjoy your time together." The food products are lemon slices, airhead candy, carrot sticks, cookies, and glasses of lemonade.

Even though this isn't an IZ character meeting the character that inspired them, it is still an IZ character meeting someone random, and the IZ character appeared first.

Bolt, also known as the 15 year old alt of Aik Membrane, popped into existence. He was wearing his brown jacket, his purple and orange earrings, striped shirt, and his fake skin over his robotic arm. His hair was still dyed red and cut short, and he wore blue contact lenses, so he looked nothing like a Membrane.

He had been having a ton of weird dreams and mindscape incidents lately, so he wasn't phased by this setting in the slightest. He just tucked his hands into his pockets and sat down in a chair, soon noticing the note and choosing to ignore it. He leaned his head back with a bored sigh. He felt eyes, so he was on edge.

And then suddenly, he wasn't alone. A kid only a year older than Bolt spawned in, short black hair, brown eyes, and a dark blue hoodie pulled up over his head. Gray jeans, hands hidden in his pocket, and a complexion a bit darker than Bolt.

The new kid seemed tired upon arrival, looking around and then sitting with a sigh.

Bolt raised an eyebrow, looking the kid up and down. "You're not quite Dib? Or. Anyone I recognize."

The kid raised an eyebrow right back. "And?"

"It's unusual," Bolt clarified. "Most people I see in places like this are Dibs or Irkens."

The kid seemed more tired at Bolt's words.

Bolt shrugged.

"Are we the only ones here?" The kid asked.

"Yes and no. Someone is watching us, but I don't think they're…like us. On a different level, maybe. Maybe this is their head and they're just hiding," Bolt replied.

The kid shrugged. "Kay."

"So what's your name?"

The kid gave Bolt a suspicious look. "Sal. Yours?"

"... Bolt." It took a moment for Bolt to settle on which name to use. He had so many, plus he was going through an identity crisis.

"Mmkay." Sal nodded and leaned his head back in the chair.

Bolt shrugged and took a lemon slice to bite it with a straight face.

Sal raised an eyebrow. "Is that a lemon?"

"Yeah, why?" Bolt mentally prepared himself for a lecture about being weird.

"Do you not taste the sour or something?"

"It just doesn't bother me," Bolt said. And here it comes…

"Neat." Sal nodded.

Bolt blinked. That was a different response than he was used to from non-Dibs. He set the lemon aside and tilted his head, looking Sal up and down again.

Sal gave Bolt a weird look.

"Are you sure you're not a Dib?" Bolt asked.

"What's a Dib?"

"A person, Dib Membrane. There are several of them," Bolt explained, tilting his head upright again.

"My name is not Dib Membrane, so no," Sal replied.

"What's under your hood?" Bolt asked.

"...hair?" Sal seemed confused.

"Can I see?" Bolt asked.

Sal shrugged and let the hoodie slip off his head. No hair scythe.

"Huh." Bolt was baffled.

"It's Sal Quinton, I'm no Membrane. Never even heard of that name before." Sal took an airhead candy and bit it.

Bolt made a face. That was certainly odd. "Where are you from?"

"Michigan."

"No, I mean, what universe?"

Sal choked on the airhead. "Huh?"

"Fuck." Bolt realized that this might be an ordinary human who knew nothing about aliens or universes. "Disregard."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Geez, you're acting like you saw an alien or something, chill out," Sal huffed.

"Wellllll…" Bolt pressed his hands together.

Sal perked up. "Wait, have you seen aliens?"

"... wait, have you seen them?" Bolt seemed confused.

"Of course I have."

"So you ARE a Dib!"

"No, I'm not," Sal sighed. "I am just Sal."

"This is so weird…" Bolt was baffled again. "But you've seen Irkens?"

"What's an Irken?" Sal asked.

Bolt blinked. "It's. It's an alien."

"Oh, I haven't seen one of those. But I have seen many other kinds of aliens. My current pest is a Kiraq Agent," Sal said.

"I've never heard that," Bolt said.

"There's more than one kind of alien." Sal shrugged.

"I guess so." Bolt nodded.

"So what are Irkens like?" Sal asked.

"Green, pink bug eyes, antennae, there's different kinds. One of them has fluffy-ness, a tail, and freckles, most of them have four arms," Bolt explained. "Most of them are kind of meh, you're not missing out. I've met three nice ones out of… six."

Sal tilted his head. "Six of the same kind? Interesting."

"What's your pest like?"

"Eh, she's yellow, blue eyes, red tufts on her antennae, she wears red and gold, has four arms, and is just. The worst," Sal sighed.

"That bad? What happened? Let me guess, trying to take over the world?" Bolt chuckled.

"What? Why would she want to do that? No, she's here to retrieve alien tech even though it's impossible and will get her killed." Sal took a lemonade and sipped on it between replies.

"That's a new one. I'm familiar with two options, annoying alien trying to take over the world or annoying alien trying to control you and manipulate you, and for both options no one believes the main person fighting," Bolt explained.

"Yikes." Sal grimaced.

"It's not fun, yeah," Bolt nodded. "Currently having to put up with a Zim like this, it's bad."

"Good luck with him."

"Thanks? Good luck with your. Agent too."

"Thanks." Sal nodded.

Bolt nodded too, then tried to fidget discreetly with his hands. Too much energy.

"You okay?" Despite Bolt's hands being out of view of the kid, Sal noticed the fidgeting.

Bolt raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, why?"

Sal blinked and coughed. "No reason. Just checking."

Bolt gave Sal a suspicious look, leaning forward.

Sal pressed himself against the back of the seat. "What?"

Bolt narrowed his eyes. "You're hiding something."

"I am not," Sal huffed.

"Yes you are, and you'd better tell me before I have no choice but to gut you," Bolt warned.

Sal choked on the lemonade. "The hell??? Are you threatening me???"

"Basically."

"That's not very nice."

"Neither is keeping secrets. Now out with it," Bolt said.

"How do I know I can trust you? You're threatening me and now acting weird. You want my secrets, act nicer." Sal narrowed his eyes at Bolt.

Bolt rolled his eyes. "Mmph fine."

"Better." Sal nodded. "I'm guessing you don't get out much."

"Hey!"

Sal snorted. "It's obvious, kid."

"I am NOT a kid."

"We're both kids, get over it." Sal sipped his lemonade again.

Bolt huffed and crossed his arms.

"You're stuck with me, might as well lighten up a bit. It's not like I'm going to hurt you or anything," Sal said.

"You wouldn't be able to hurt me, I'd kick your ass," Bolt said.

"Oh yeah? Good for you." Sal chuckled. He didn't believe it.

Bolt didn't see the point in debating it, even though he knew Sal didn't believe him. There wasn't any room for a spar in here, and he doubted Sal would want to do it anyway. He just rolled his eyes and munched another lemon slice, rind and all.

Sal nibbled on carrot sticks, silent for a moment before coming up with a question. "So what's your family like?"

Bolt coughed slightly on the lemon. "Uh, good. I have a good brother."

"Oh nice, same." Sal just nodded.

"Yeah?"

"My twin, Lee."

Bolt blinked. "... your names are Sal and Lee?" He snorted.

Sal sighed. "Yes, my parents wanted to name their first born after my mom's mom, my late grandma, Sally Brady. But when they got twin boys instead of a girl, they decided to split the name Sally between us, so Sal and Lee."

"And I thought my name was bad," Bolt chuckled.

"Eh, shut up." Sal snorted.

Bolt stuck out his tongue teasingly at Sal.

Sal snickered. "Yes yes, cute, whatever."

"Hey I am NOT cute!"

Sal laughed. Bolt rolled his eyes.

"Geez, it's nice to not have to worry about an alien following me," Sal chuckled.

"Tell me about it…" Bolt sighed.

"Oof, you too?"

"Yep." Bolt nodded.

"Poor us…" Sal shook his head.

A dart whizzed through the room, a note on it. Before Bolt could react, a robotic tentacle with four sharp prongs at the end shot out of Sal's shoulder and snatched the dart out of thin air.

Sal grew pale. Bolt's eyes widened.

"THAT'S what you were hiding?!" Bolt gasped.

"Uhhhh wow, look at this note!" The tentacle retraced into Sal's shoulder and Sal took the dart into his hand. "Look, there's a note! Say your goodbyes, you'll be going home soon."

"Nah nah nah, you don't get out of this that easily!" Bolt tried to tackle Sal.

Sal dodged. "Welp, can't ignore the note! Byeeeeee!"

Bolt yelped. "No fair, I'm not saying goodbye to you yet! Get back here!"

Unfortunately for Bolt but lucky for Sal, they were suddenly both returned to their own worlds and lives.

#invader zim #roleplay #iz #fan fiction #aik membrane #oc rp #ukagaka zim

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queen-of-seventeen · 2 years

Text

The straight men’s attraction to Ryan Reynolds

This piece is for Abi @jostenlovesminyard <a href="https://twitter.com/jostenminyard03" rel="nofollow">JostenMinyard03 on twitter</a> for the aftg exchange. I hope you love reading it like I loved writing it. I had a blast.

Thanks @aftgexchange for putting this show on the road

Andrew knocked his shoulder into a rack of summer coats and hissed. The store was overcrowded and he didn't know why he had agreed to join Aaron on this shopping trip. It's not like Andrew wore summer clothes. He would rather pass out from heat stroke than wear jean shorts.

"So," he continued, "I need this big breaking case or they're going to downsize my article. So I did some digging and found this weird kid, a total carrot in that picture and apparently, his dad is the Butcher."

Aaron flicked through a stack of shorts before pulling out two in the same size. "The Butcher?"

Andrew schooled his face as best as he could. It was a burden to be directly related to someone with so little knowledge about true crime. He deserved better.

He sighed and sat down on top of a display. He ignored the looks a sales assistant gave him. It was fine. He was just sitting on the clothes. "The Butcher of Baltimore is this notorious serial killer who was supposedly the boss of the mob."

"You're serious," Aaron said in a tone that made it clear he wasn't excited.

"I am." Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose. "The kid was about ten in that picture when his dad died and nobody has heard from him since."

"And you're what?" Aaron turned to him. "You will be the one to find him? He's been gone for how long? Swallowed by witness protection. Which you shouldn't mess with."

"Thirteen years. I want coffee." Andrew stood up and didn't wait for Aaron knowing his twin was following. "He's around twenty-three, granted that he celebrates the same birthday he did back then."

Andrew stepped in line at a smaller coffee chain. It was rustic and they were playing some new indie band that he wouldn't shazam but later wished he had. He knew it was wrong to try and find someone in witness protection but he needed a big story. He wasn’t going to let fucking Seth take over his prime spot in the paper and the website.

The line wasn't long but the guy in front of him had long white cat hairs sticking to every inch of his jogger and Andrew scoffed as he scanned the guy’s outfit. Bright orange hoodie clashing with his auburn hair and shoes that were starting to come apart at the seams. If he was any more inclined towards charity he'd have offered to buy the guy a new pair.

Aaron kicked Andrew's foot. "You were saying. The guy’s been missing and why is he important to your case?"

"I want an interview. What it was like to live through the whole shebang."

"And why would he answer?" Aaron rubbed his nose. A mild cat allergy.

"I'm persuasive."

"Intense."

"A good reporter."

"A stalker."

"Aaron for fucks sake, at the least he'll answer because I have as much sex appeal as Ryan Reynolds and he'd be too attracted to say no."

Aaron burst into laughter and Andrew noticed the shoulders of the guy in front of them shaking as well. He sighed and pressed his lips together. There was no arguing with straight men. He knew this, he'd always known this even growing up. Still, he'd expected at least a little support from the mirror image beside him.

The auburn-haired guy turned around and looked over their heads to the door. He wasn't very tall but still taller than Aaron and Andrew. The height wasn't what took Andrew's breath away. The guy was biting his full lips but even so, the right corner turned up just so. He was trying to keep himself from laughing out loud.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back and Andrew scowled. Brows furrowed, corners of his mouth tipping down. He barely managed not to cross his arms.

The Auburn guy finally looked down and broke as well. A loud, rolling laugh engulfed Andrew. The guy's ice blue eyes crinkled at the corners and his heart sped up for a second.

"What's so funny?"

“Your belief that everyone is at least a little bit attracted to men.” The man shook his head with another laugh. Andrew was so very gay.

Andrew crossed his arms and schooled his expression. “We can’t forget the lesbians of course. Kind of requisitive to think men aren’t attractive sexually but I was talking about a specific man and Ryan Reynolds is a straight man’s catnip.”

The auburn-haired man nodded twice and turned back to the counter. Conversation over. Normally Andrew would be okay with that. He hated talking and especially to strangers. It was why he turned to writing in the first place. And here there was a stranger butting into his private conversation and all he wanted to do was pull the stranger back in. It was a problem. The Auburn-haired man ordered a black coffee and went to stand off to the side. Andrew ordered a pumpkin spice latte with pumpkin spice whipped cream and put it on Aaron’s tab.

Before Andrew could find a way to talk to Red again he was out the door with a coffee. Andrew waited like a statue for his sweetened coffee and proceeded to pour more sugar in while Aaron waited for his own.

"One day you will start paying for your coffees," Aaron said as he watched Andrew meticulously follow his coffee routine and stir in the whipped cream.

"Why would I when Nicky and you will do it for me?" Andrew looked out the window for a second trying to spot the auburn hair.

"Maybe because your writing gig pays you this time if you can hold on to it." Aaron gripped his cup in both hands and started for the door. "I need t-shirts."

"Did your wife finally come to her senses and threaten to divorce you for dressing like a midget asshole."

"We're the same height."

"But I don't dress like an asshole. There's a difference." Andrew overtook his twin and started for his favorite shop. "Come on, I can't lose my least favorite Minyard to something as dumb as your taste in fashion."

Something was scratching at Andrew’s front door. It wasn't Sir FatCat because she was nestled at the end of Andrew's couch in his favorite blanket. He'd long since accepted she latched onto anything he liked when he needed it. But that didn't stop the scratching at the front door.

Andrew put his notes on the Nathan Wesninski case to the side. They wouldn't help his search for the younger Wesninski anyhow.

He got up, tried not to disturb Sir, and walked to the front door. He didn't see anything when he looked through the peephole. He turned to go back to the couch when the scratching started again. He really should've known better with his work in investigative crime journalism but he carefully opened the door and a small calico cat dashed past his legs into the kitchen.

"What the fuck." Andrew didn't close his door in his sprint after the cat. He saw Sir poke up her fat orange head from the couch but she didn't even try to defend her home.

That was Karma for not getting a dog, Aaron would say.

Andrew went into the kitchen to see the new cat happily eating from Sir's bowl. "That isn't yours."

He scooted closer but the cat didn't budge. Andrew grabbed for its scruff and the yowl coming from its tiny mouth would have woken up every single one of his neighbors.

When it resorted to scratching instead of screaming Andrew could hear footsteps over his parquet. "Hello?"

"Sorry," a voice came back. The tenor was slightly familiar which happened a lot with Andrew's memory, but he couldn't place it. "I thought I heard my cat and since your door was open."

An auburn-haired man walked into the door opening of Andrew's kitchen. It was THE auburn-haired man. Andrew wasn't glad to see him again. He wanted to throttle the handsome intruder and his sudden German accent.

"You weren't German last week."

"I don't remember you living here."

"Funny seeing how I have been for years and you moved in last week." Andrew absent-mindedly had started petting the cat in his arm as it settled down. "Get out of my house."

The man gave him a bemused look and held out his hand. "I'm Neil Josten."

"Get out of my house."

Neil dropped his hand. "Can I have my cat back first?"

Andrew didn’t stop glaring as he dropped the cat. It didn’t meow once but walked over to its owner. Neil nodded at Andrew. “Sorry for the trouble.” He picked up the cat and walked out of the kitchen. Andrew could hear the door closing from where he stood.

He walked to his couch after checking the door was closed and locking it. He didn’t need another stray in there. The file he was supposed to be studying lay on the table. He picked it up again with a heavy heart and opened it. A picture fell out and fluttered to the floor like an autumn leaf.

The day can’t get worse than this, Andrew thought and bent to pick it up. He saw the back first. ‘Nathan Wesninski with wife and son.’ Andrew didn’t think twice before flipping it over in his hands.

“Mother fucker.” It was a general rule that Andrew Minyard hated running. His friend Kevin believed he would have joined the professional leagues but the idea of working out every day for ten or twenty-odd years sent a chill down Andrew’s back that could honestly put him in an early grave.

Now however Andrew was running like his life depended on it. His next paycheck did for sure. He ran to the front door without putting on shoes and barely remembered to grab his keys and close it for Sir before stepping into the hallway and banging on the door marked with ‘N. Josten.’

“Mother fucker,” Andrew said again. He carefully pulled his face into the uncaring facade he’d been cultivating since his teenage years. His right foot tapped on the floor and his nail’s dug into the skin of his palms.

The door opened and the cat tried to shoot out again before it was stopped by a socked foot. “You don’t have to yell at me, I already said sorry for King.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about your dumb cat, I have a dumb cat at home. You, however.”

Neil raised both his eyebrows. “This may be the weirdest way I’ve ever been asked out.”

“I’m not asking you out.”

“Last time you said you had the sex appeal of Ryan Reynolds.”

“And you neatly turned me down.” Andrew’s head was starting to spin. He had to gain back his control over the situation. “That’s not why I’m here. I need to go inside.”

Neil motioned a hand to Andrew’s door. “Then go.”

“With you. I need to interview you.”

“With your Ryan Reynolds appeal?” Neil stepped to the side and let Andrew in. He noticed how Neil didn’t lock any of the doors but his eyes scanned the apartment looking, Andrew didn’t know.

“I don’t care about Ryan Reynolds, I might be too gay for that. Never let my cousin hear me say that.” Andrew didn’t sit down but he was still holding the file and the picture. In school they taught him to tell the interviewee, Neil in this case, to sit down now. Andrew didn’t. “You look a lot like your sperm donor for someone who’s supposedly in witness protection.”

Neil looked like hell froze over. “Get out.”

“So you can call them? No. I’m not here to kill you. I don’t even need a picture of you or anything else.”

“Then why are you here?” Neil sighed heavily and poured a cup of tea with milk.

Andrew’s lip curled. British, gross. “You are the guy I talked about in the coffee shop. Son of that one murdery fellow. My boss is going to downsize my column unless I come up with something as big as this story.”

“That’s my problem, why?” Neil sipped his drink and sank into his chair. A fake display of relaxation. Andrew knew all the tells.

“It’s not your problem but I am willing to trade you. You’re new right?” Andrew waited for Neil to nod to continue. “I know the people in this building and around town. I can introduce you. The more people you know and know about you the more people will raise a fuss if anything happens to you.”

Neil seemed to think it over for a second. “And you think that’ll work?”

Andrew sat down in the chair opposite Neil. This was his chance to convince Neil to work with him, to help him. It was also his chance to get to know someone interesting. Andrew hadn’t met anyone like that in a long time. Especially not one that was pretty. “I know it will.”

“Okay, I’ll do it but you’re going to keep my name and picture out of it.”

“Of course. A deal’s a deal.” Andrew forced himself to hold out his hand. Touching Neil, even as inconspicuously as that would be worth the lingering feeling on his skin.

Neil took his hand in agreement. He looked apprehensive, his handshake weak and Andrew had half a mind that Neil would be gone before he could get his interview. Andrew didn’t wish but if he did he’d wish that Neil would still be there the next time he went to visit.

Andrew was ready to interview Neil. He had invited Neil into his home the day after he'd confronted him simply so Neil would have fewer chances to run away.

Andrew had picked up coffee and creamer and sparkling water. Neil didn't seem the type to drink alcohol and it was one of the other rules the school had drilled into Andrew. Don't get the interviewee drunk, the answers will be terrible and you can't control the outcome.

The apartment had been cleaned and Andrew had folded the blankets on his couch. He didn't sit down. He thought he'd feel as bad that Neil was coming into his space, invited this time, as he thought Neil would feel about entering it.

He paced around the room. This was it. This was the last rescue mission of his column size. He could do this.

The clock kept ticking and just when Andrew was convinced Neil was no longer showing up, someone knocked on his door. Now, this could either be witness protection to yell at him for trying to blow Neil's cover or it was Neil himself.

Andrew didn't know if he was more or less surprised when it was Neil on the other side of the door.

"I'm late," Neil said as a way of greeting.

"I know," Andrew replied. He stepped aside to let Neil in. "Pick a chair in the living room, I'll bring in drinks. Just don't sit on Sir."

"Sir?" Neil walked into the living room while Andrew went into the kitchen. From there he heard Neil. "Oh, Sir. My what a fa,” Neil trailed off, “fantastic… cat."

Andrew listened to him coo at the obese animal while he made two cups of coffee, added a generous amount of milk and sugar to his, and grabbed a glass of water for Neil just in case he didn't want the coffee.

Neil was sitting with King Fluffkins on his lap on the couch. He looked up at Andrew's frozen stature in the door opening. "Technically, your cat is sitting on me."

"How domestic. Feels more like a third date thing." Andrew placed the cups on the table and sat in the oversized chair near his television.

"So this is a date? I would've worn something better."

Andrew neatly avoided choking on his spit. Neil was interesting. More interesting than anything in years had been.

"Truly, Andrew, don't you normally tell people it's a date."

"I don't normally ask for life stories on dates." Andrew took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue. The feeling lingered and he wondered if Neil would be able to taste it if they kissed. "I don't normally date."

"Well, that's on me for assuming." Neil kept petting King. "Is it okay if I start now? I think I'll lose my nerve if I don't."

Andrew leaned forward. "Why do you trust me?"

"I don't know." Neil shrugged. "You seem trustworthy and if you sell me out you will anyway."

"High praise."

"I think it's your Ryan Reynolds charm."

"So you do think I'm Ryan Reynolds hot?"

"Don't know, I'm not straight." Neil looked up and away. Before Andrew could question it Neil dove straight into his story.

Andrew had set up his voice notes a couple of sentences into Neil’s spiel but he was glad for it. It took a lot for Andrew to get shocked but this was it. Listening to Neil tell him about his childhood and a time on the run before he was almost savagely cut down by his father.

Andrew had always been glad Nathan Wesninski was dead but this was the cherry on top. He wrote down his last notes a couple of minutes after Neil finished his story. Andrew stood up without saying anything and went into the kitchen.

He wrapped his hands around the edge of the counter and waited for his milk to heat up in the microwave. It took him a minute to find his tongue.

“I’m making hot chocolate,” he said loud enough for Neil to hear.

“Not for me please.” Andrew didn’t hear Neil move. He grabbed another mug from his cupboard and filled it with hot water. He grabbed the one kind of tea he had for when his cousin came over and put it on the tray next to his mug. He carefully spooned in two helpings of chocolate.

He rolled his shoulders and neck before picking up the tray and walking back to the living room. He put the tray down and grabbed two blankets from the one space where Sir Fat Cat McCatterson wouldn’t steal them. He gave one to Neil and curled up with the other in his chair. Thank you for trusting me, he didn’t say. “There’s rooibos tea. There might be milk in the fridge for the cat.”

Neil nodded and wrapped himself in the blanket before reaching forward for his mug. He cradled it in his hands. “I don’t want to be scared of my father anymore.”

“He’s dead,” Andrew said.

“Still.”

“He’s dead,” Andrew repeated. “He’s dead and you're alive and for today you are Neil Josten sitting on my couch. You told your story and I’m going to build you a life that is less pathetic than being my neighbor.”

Neil huffed a laugh. “Why is being your neighbor pathetic?”

Andrew made a movement with his hand. He was five foot nothing of black clothing and a journalism degree. It should speak for itself.

“I don’t agree and if your friends do I don’t know if I want to meet them.” Neil stroked Sir over his fathead.

“It’s mostly my brother who you’ve seen.”

“You but without the attractiveness of Ryan Reynolds.”

Andrew laughed. “So you agree he is.”

“No, but I’m starting to think you might be. Attractive that is.”

Neil turned red under his blanket but Andrew didn’t know if it was from the heat of the tea or blanket or both but he may be able to live with not knowing for now because the pretty Auburn-haired man had just called him attractive. Maybe. But it was a strong maybe.

Neil took a sip of tea and they sat together in half silence until they both finished their cups.

“If you don’t have to work tomorrow,” Neil started. “Maybe you can introduce me to some friends. Or we can just do something together.”

“A second date?” Andrew said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. Without talking about my murderous, what did you call him, sperm donor?”

“Correct. We could talk about how your cat is a terror.”

“Takes after his dad.” Neil smiled and curled up further in the blanket with Sir.

Andrew would agree. The cat took after his dad. A terror to neighbor Andrew but too interesting to let it go. Andrew didn’t say no to the second date or the third or when half a year later Neil suggested to Andrew that it’d be harder to take him if he lived in the same apartment as Andrew.

It worked and one year after their first year Neil told his biggest truth. “My non-attraction to Ryan Reynolds probably correlated to my attraction to you. You did say he was a straight man’s catnip.”

“And you’re not straight.” Andrew grabbed the back of his neck.

“I’m nothing.”

You’re everything, Andrew thought and pulled Neil in for a kiss.

#noa writes tfc #noa writes aftg #all for the game #andreil #andreil fanfic #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #neil josten

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