#when she sees him for an average of 3 or 4 hours a day

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

Ranking the Batfam by their sleep habits

Duke: He’s on the day shift so he actually gets to sleep at night. He’s still a teenager in high school so he doesn’t get much rest between the homework and the vigilantism, but he averages a solid 7-8 hours a night

Cassie: She has to stay in optimal shape for ballet so she gets as much rest as she can. She’s also capable of taking time off when she needs it so she can get extra rest to make up for working a harder case. She typically pulls in about 7ish hours

Jason: Do you know how much math is involved in running a crime syndicate? More than you think. Dude’s gotta be able to stay on top of it. He doesn’t have a day job (legally dead and all) so he can pretty much just zonk out after patrol, but he wakes up really easy, so he only typically gets 6-7 hours at a time

Damian: He gets forced to rest even if he doesn’t want to. There’s been a Robin rule since Dick was in the green shorts that Robin has to get at least 6 hours a night

Babs: She would love to get more sleep, but as Oracle, she has to be on call all night. She tried to sleep in between missions, so she got a vibrating alarm and synced it to her mission program to wake her up when something happens. She’s lucky to get 5 hours uninterrupted

Steph: She could get more sleep if she wanted to, but sometimes the adhd just takes over and she spends her precious limited sleep time free time in youtube rabbit holes. She’ll typically get somewhere between 4-5 hours

Dick: Despite always being the one trying to get everyone else to take care of themselves, he’s incapable of seeing bad self care habits in himself, so this idiot voluntarily works the morning shift at his day job. So after patrolling for 8 hours, he only has 3 hours to sleep before work if he’s lucky

Bruce: Bruce gets easily fixated on whatever he’s working on, which makes it hard for him to stop. He can go days without sleep and not even notice. He’ll typically crash and get one night of 8 hours, but the rest of the week, he’ll only get around 2 a night.

Tim: He never knows when the last time he slept was and would actually be glad if you pointed it out for him. He inherited Bruce’s hyperfixations and doesn’t even notice how long he’s been working until the sun comes up. When he finally crashes, he crashes hard and sleeps for almost an entire day

Alfred: No one has ever seen him sleep, they just assume it must happen. No one knows for sure

[eeunwoo]

.

[ddejavvu]

hiiiii! i love ur sirius x animagus!reader collection :)

how about one where the girls dont know that r is the cat they see sirius hanging out with and one of them knits a sweater for sirius' 'cat' and sirius and the boys r just like "shes vicious when it comes to costumes :(" feeling bad for whoever made the sweater but then r like lets them put it on or smth and theyre surprised?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

i've sort of twisted your prompt just a teeny tiny bit!! i hope all of the parts you liked most are still in there, though :') // also this one was hard to tag 'cause again technically it's sirius x reader but he's not present and she's not with james either so i used both of their tags just because they're technically the central focus of the overarching story even if this part is a little less defined

--

James thinks it might be the worst day of his life so far, and isn't sure what mischief he could have inflicted upon anyone to possibly deserve this cruel of a punishment.

Lily Evans is standing before him, face kind instead of pinched in annoyance as it so often is at his presence, and she's handing him something. As in, he will take it from her and their hands will brush. As in, her skin will touch his. As in, he's never going to wash his hand again.

"I'm glad I found you,-"

She's glad she found him!

"-I couldn't catch Sirius before he left Potions," She laments, "Could you let him know I made this for his cat, Potter?"

James's stellar brain and above-average intelligence supply him with the phrase, 'Huh?', which might possibly be the least embarrassing thing he's ever said to her, and that doesn't fare well.

"That's Sirius's new cat, isn't it?" She presses on, and James forces himself to tear his eyes off of her ethereal face to glance at you, draped lazily over the couch cushion beside him soaking up the warmth of the fire. Your eyes were lazy before Lily had shown up, but at the sight of what she's holding out; knitwear, they narrow and sharpen. It's an odd shape, not human size, with openings for four legs.

"I thought she might be getting cold now that the snow's started up," She tilts her chin towards the window, glazed over with frost, "And I just figured I could knit her a little sweater."

Not even James's fear of your claws can deter him from accepting the gift from Lily. He takes it - and their hands brush! Just like he'd hoped for! - grabbing you unceremoniously around the middle and dragging you onto his lap.

"She loves sweaters." He fibs, shamefully distracted by Lily's face as he tries wrestling you into the garment. You're well aware of why he's lying to her, because the last time you'd been faced with cat clothes, you'd ripped a hole in his bedspread. But this is Lily, and you refrain from shredding the fabric of his pants as he shoves you into the sweater.

He's clumsy with it, because he's not giving you his full attention, and you let out a disgruntled meow as he smears the fabric of the sweater over your face instead of tugging your head through the hole.

"Now, Mittens," He chuckles tensely, "Just- put your paw through there, don't scratch me-! And- there." He announces proudly, hoisting you up into the air just beneath the joints of your front paws. He displays you to Lily, and you steel yourself as she croons and reaches out to pet you. She's far gentler than the man holding you, and you'd appreciate it at any other point in time, but the sweater she'd knit you is itching against your fur and dragging it against the grain, and you'd like to leave it in ribbons as you bolt up the staircase. For everyone's sake, you won't.

"Look at that," James announces proudly, "She loves it. Thanks, Lily."

She smiles, a soft gesture, but not a weak one. She nods, "James," And takes her leave, heading towards the girls' dorms staircases, inevitably about to find your bed empty and wonder where you are at this hour of night.

"She said my name," James breathes, only after the door to your dorm has been safely shut, and she runs no risk of hearing him. He looks incredulously at you, in your tense, rigid stance on the couch cushions, "She didn't call me Potter! She- you're a miracle." James levels you with an intensely grateful stare, thumbing fondly at the knitwear that's itching viciously at your fur, "You're my wingman, Y/N. I mean it, you're putting that sweater on every day, I'll manhandle you into it myself."

You yowl at him, a sound that typically scares him off, but he doesn't yield, grinning impishly at you instead.

"Whatever you say, Mittens."

[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part Two)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Several days later...

Several days later and Emma had organised dinner at a famous Japanese restaurant with both Jamie and Cillian Murphy attending and you were unsure what to wear as, again, your sense of self-consciousness and lack of self-esteem began gnawing away at you. Should you dress provocatively to catch his eye or opt for something demure to blend in with the crowd?  Your indecision mirrored your uncertainty regarding the evening ahead.

Luckily for you, Emma had brought some clothes with her, knowing that you did not own anything other than a few pairs of jeans and shirts.

"How about this one?" she asked, pulling out a velvety red dress that Jamie had bought for her recently. 

"It's, uhm, red?" you stammered, your cheeks turning crimson due to the daring choice of attire.

"Okay, let's go with something more boring," Emma teased before pulling out a black skirt and a simple, but pretty, white silk shirt instead. You hesitated briefly, worrying whether your ordinary appearance might be too boring after all for a man who you knew could have every woman he wanted.

"It will look good, but don't wear a bra with it," Emma suggested, smirking playfully. "Jamie loves seeing my nipples through the fabric and no doubt Cillian will feel the same about yours."  With resignation, you followed her advice.

"What even makes you think that he would like me? He was married to this actress, Annabelle Wallis, for a few years and before that, he was married to this designer named Grace. They both are stunning and I am merely average," you thought out loud sadly. Surely, he wouldn't want an ordinary girl like me? Your insecurities started eating you alive, causing your palms to sweat profusely underneath your delicate hands.

"You are gorgeous and if you were just slightly gay, then we wouldn't just be friends babe", Emma consoled. "We all face our insecurities differently but trust me, he won't reject you once he sees you". Her voice was soft and tender, kindling your faith in yourself. She guided you through various ways to enhance your body language, facial expressions, vocal inflections. Every piece of advice was designed to bring forth your inner charm. You watched her carefully, taking notes mentally.

When she finished teaching you, she smiled encouragingly and whispered, "Remember, embrace your flaws. Trust me, you'd surprise yourself," adding, "And do try to relax tonight."

You nodded appreciatively, attempting to breathe deeply and calm your racing pulse. Emphasizing her point further, Emma added, "Trust me, once you start getting comfortable, it'll be easier to let loose and unwind."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, wondering how exactly one goes about becoming 'comfortable'. Nonetheless, you took Emma's words to heart, hoping to channel her strength in times of discomfort.

An hour later...

As you entered the luxurious London eatery, filled with the hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and attentive staff whisking around effortlessly in their pristine uniforms, you couldn't help feeling intimidated by the sophistication surrounding you. 

Your best friend Emma was right by your side as you were shown to a well-appointed but secluded table, which is where Jamie and Cillian were already waiting for you. 

As soon as you arrived, Jamie whispered something into Cillian's ear causing him to glance into your direction, his piercing blue eyes fixing upon yours briefly before looking away again. It seemed there might be some underlying chemistry here after all - if only momentarily.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, you introduced yourself to Cillian warmly.

"I am Y/N," you started, "it's nice to meet you." Your voice came out more breathless than usual due to nerves, though it didn't seem to affect your confidence too drastically.

In response, Cillian offered a broad smile. "Likewise, Y/N", he said softly. His Irish accent added an extra layer of charm that made him even more appealing, albeit slightly disconcerting.

"So, you are Emma's friend? And she tells me that you study law together?" Cillian said politely, breaking the awkward initial silence while sipping from his wine glass. His demeanor appeared relaxed yet focused, showing a genuine interest in what you had to say.

"Yes, we've known each other since we were kids actually!" You advised casually while waiting for the waitress to pour you a glass of wine as well. The mention of childhood memories caused a subtle change in the atmosphere. 

"Y/N is an honor student, top of her class," bragged Emma proudly before Jamie pulled a joke. "And Cillian here dropped out of law school after failing two of his exams," he said teasingly.  All three shared a laugh over this small bit of banter, easing the initial nervousness in the air.

"What made you go to law school?" you eventually ought to enquire, seeing that everyone was now at ease and at least somewhat comfortable with each other.

"My parents," Cillian chuckled before telling you some more about his upbringing, and you did the same. 

With that, conversations moved from topic to topic for two hours while you all enjoyed some Japanese food. The topics discussed were ranging from film projects they worked on, dating stories, to politics. But underneath it all lingered an unspoken tension.

As time went on, Cillian's attention shifted toward you, glances growing longer and more frequent. Emma noticed this too, shooting looks back at you with mischievous intent while you became rather quiet and nervous, which was something Cillian picked up immediately.

"So, tell me Y/N," he interrupted, attempting to start another conversation. "What do you want to achieve in life? What are your ambitions?" There was an undertone of curiosity in his question as it became clear to you that him and Jamie had been talking about you. 

Feeling somewhat uneasy about this revelation, you answered confidently, telling him about your aspirations to become a successful lawyer someday, contributing positively to society through justice reform and empowerment.

Emma chimed in excitedly, adding how determined you are when pursuing your goals. "She doesn't give up easily – I know because sometimes we compete against each other for better grades. I don't usually stand a chance though because she is a nerd!".

Cillian chuckled appreciatively. "Well, then I have no doubt that you can reach those dreams one day," he remarked thoughtfully and with a warm smile just as the waitress came to take your order for dessert. 

While you waited for your desserts to arrive, Jamie suggested that you could all enjoy some drinks at his apartment afterwards instead of going out to a bar and, both, Cillian and Emma agreed instantly, eager to spend more quality time with each other.

You, too, reluctantly agreed, knowing that spending more time with them privately would potentially increase your chances of getting to know Cillian a bit better while, at the same time, you were a little nervous about what else the night could bring. 

***

Shortly after dinner, you all left the restaurant. Jamie led the way, expertly navigating through crowds. As you walked, you could feel the excitement building within, not just because of the unknown that lay ahead, but also the undeniable magnetic pull that emanated from Cillian. He carried himself with such poise, drawing people in without even trying. 

Once inside Jamiee's luxury apartment, the four of you found yourselves drawn to the living room area. After catching up on general topics like recent films and news and drinking a decent amount of wine, Jamie proposed playing a game called 'truth or dare', which was something you had not played since high school.

"Seriously? Aren't we a bit old for that?" Emma laughed, teasing Jamie who, by this point, had shown some more intimate affection towards Emma. 

"No. In fact, it becomes more fun the older you get," Jamie pointed out with a wink while Emma simply rolled her eyes. 

This was designed to break the ice further and get everyone comfortable enough to share personal information. Taking turns, each person had to answer either a truthful statement or perform a dare and, whilst everyone was familiar to the rules, the idea of playing this game with a group of adults like this made you nervous, knowing very well where this could lead. 

Naturally, Emma volunteered first and selected 'truth' and it was Jamie who asked the question, "What's your most embarrassing memory involving Y/N?" He laughed good-humoredly.

Her face turned red as she hesitated, clearly struggling to think of something, finally saying: "It involves us meeting up late one night, running across campus half naked and high on weed. Neither of us had smoked it before and we ended up sleeping in between the hedges. It was rather embarrassing when Y/N's idiot of an ex-boyfriend found us the next morning and made a scene," Emma told the crowd and everybody laughed heartily, sharing their own similar experiences. This set a casual tone that eased anxieties among the group. 

Turning towards Cillian, he opted for 'dare'.

Being Emma's turn, she challenged him thusly: "Go onto the balcony and strip," she giggled.

"All the way?" he asked, and she gave him a lifeline. "No. It's too early for that. Just down to your briefs. Anything more would be inappropriate," she chuckled, and Cillian obliged readily, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind about his attractiveness.

"You aren't actually going to do this, right?" you asked as he walked towards the balcony and his brows furrowed.

"Why not? No one will see me. We are on the 28th floor!" Cillian laughed and, upon returning, Cillian took a seat near you, displaying raw power and magnetism as he crossed his legs, but put his t-shirt back on, leaving him comfortable in black Calvin-Klein briefs and a black t-shirt. 

Now, it was your turn. Under pressure, you chose 'truth', and Emma decided to ask you a question.

She wanted to know, "Who's your celebrity crush?" and you immediately gasped. Without missing a beat, you blushed and looked at Cillian and murmured his name. 

The others burst into loud guffaws and cheers, Jamie playfully punching Cillian's arm as he congratulated him on his appeal while your cheeks turned red.

"Are you just saying this because I am sitting right next to you?" Cillian laughed and you nervously shook your head.

"No. I mean, I think you are, uhm, really...uhm...," you stammered, and, despite your obvious discomfort, you found yourself unable to look away from Cillian.

Cillian raised his eyebrows in response of your unfinished statement and Emma intervened, saying "she thinks that you are hot, Cillian!"

"That's good to know," Cillian winked in response and his bold moves had captured your full attention now. Your aroused state heightened significantly, and you suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely attracted to his intensity.

At long last, you reached another turn. Swallowing hard, you stood up and announced solemnly, "I choose dare." Everyone's gaze fell on you expectantly as Emma spoke up and dared you to kiss someone of your choosing.

You swallowed harshly, acutely aware of the sudden heat in your cheeks and, since you were afraid to choose anyone else, you chose Emma.

Everybody watched closely as you moved towards her slowly, closing the gap between you two. Feeling the fire igniting deep within, you pressed your lips tenderly against hers, teasingly at first, then passionately, pulling her closer to you. Her hands slid down your sides, touching your waist, and caressing your curves until they rested on your ass. 

"Fuck, that I did not expect," Jamie gasped, seeing that, contrary to Emma, he knew very well that you were usually rather prude while Cillian simply smiled enigmatically.

"Is that okay?" Emma then asked as, eventually, her hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts.

"Yes, I think so," you said nervously before Emma slowly pulled off your top. Your nipples grew hard, becoming erect in the cool air conditioning of the apartment.

"It is your turn Cillian. Truth or dare?" Emma then asked huskily as she sat close to you, running her fingers along your neck seductively. Her breath tickling your earlobe.

Your eyes widened, unsure if you should proceed. However, feeling emboldened by the alcohol, you chose to go along with it as Cillian said "dare" with a low and husky voice, unable to look away from your naked chest. 

"Dare, huh?" Emma teased while walking over towards him seductively and reaching for his hand, thereby pulling him off his chair.

"Come over here and touch her, just above her thigh," commanded Emma in a low seductive voice while guiding Cillian over towards you.

Your heart raced as Cillian followed her lead, moving steadily towards where you were sitting.

He then kneeled before you and placed his large, strong hands softly on your inner thighs, causing a surge of desire to course through your veins while Emma positioned herself next to you again.

"Is that alright?" Cillian asked politely, seeking consent, as the atmosphere in the room intensified dramatically, every eye fixed on the unfolding scenario.

"Yes, that feels nice," you whispered softly, allowing his massive hands to slide higher up your leg, beneath your skirt, brushing against your sensitive skin and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The scent of Cillian's cologne filled your nostrils, reminding you of his presence.

Meanwhile, Jamie observed the situation with interest, sipping his wine slowly. Emma continued to sit beside you, rubbing your shoulders suggestively.

"Just a little higher, Cill..." Emma encouraged Cillian, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

As he carefully pushed aside your skirt, exposing your lace panties, you couldn't help but tremble slightly in anticipation.

"You are really wet already, Y/n," he commented almost matter-of-factly. Despite the alcohol, it was clear that you weren't simply imagining it; your moistness revealed an unspoken attraction toward him. It was intense and you desperately wanted him to touch your core. 

Answering your prayers, Cillian brushed his fingers tentatively over the soaking fabric of your thong, his touch eliciting an involuntary gasp from you as the sensation sent a ripple of electricity throughout your entire frame.

Emma let out a pleased hum at the sight of you squirming underneath his touch. Meanwhile, Jamie was watching intently, his eyes glinting with a mixture of intrigue and amusement before urging Cillian on.

"It's Emma's turn and I know she will choose dare, so tell her what to do Cillian," he chuckled mischievously.

Cillian narrowed his eyes at Jamie, then directed his attention towards Emma, a cocky grin forming on his face.

"I dare you to remove your clothes," he taunted, staring deeply into her eyes.

Emma paused briefly, contemplating whether to accept the challenge or not. But ultimately, her rebellious nature won out as she confidently replied, "Alright" before beginning to strip in front of them all. Starting from her shoes, she removed each piece of clothing methodically, showcasing her voluptuous body and accentuating her feminine curves.

With each garment discarded, the room became increasingly charged with lust and desire, filling everyone with growing anticipation. Once naked, she strutted towards Jamie, giving you and Cillian some space as, still, he drew circles over your panties.

"Well, looks like we don't need any more dares," Jamie then noted, removing his clothes also and, finally, showering Emma with some rough but passionate attention.

Their bodies intertwined with one another effortlessly, drawing gasps from the audience around them. Your face flushed hotly at the sight, as you could feel a growing sense of arousal inside you.

"Do you mind if I kiss you?" Cillian asked as he moved even closer to you, ensuring you wouldn't miss a single bit of his commanding demeanor.

"No...I mean...yes...," you stammered nervously, causing Cillian to cock his eyebrows again. "I mean, yes, please kiss me," you clarified, your words barely a whisper as you allowed him to move closer.

As his warm breath grazed past your mouth, he closed the distance between you both. Your lips met ever so gently, your connection seemingly electrical. Your hearts raced together as his tongue danced with yours, delving deeper and deeper into your mouth. 

"Look how hard you make him," Emma drawled, her tone dripping with seduction as she watched your reactions to Cillian who was now moving his lips from your mouth to your neck and then all the way down to your naked breasts. His erection was evidentially straining against his Calvin Klein briefs but you did not dare to look at his crotch.

Each touch made your breath catch in your throat, the warmth of his tongue tracing shapes across your skin sending shockwaves through your system. You arched your back instinctively, inviting more of his ministrations.

To help you along, Emma and Jamie had moved themselves to a spot behind you and her arms encircled around your torso tightly.

"Spread your legs for him, baby," suggested Emma while pressing herself firmly against your lower back, making sure not to lose contact with you.

Her demand spurred you on, and you obliged without hesitation, spreading your legs wide apart for Cillian who did not hesitate to finally take off your panties completely. Now fully exposed, your most private area lay bared right there in front of him and Emma said "doesn't she have a pretty little pussy?" while looking directly at you. Your face flushed crimson as embarrassment washed over you, but yet, there was something rather arousing about the way she spoke. 

"Yes, her pussy looks absolutely divine!" Cillian remarked as he admired your entrance while probing it gently. It wasn't difficult to see why he found such fascination in your body – your cleft lips parted to form a small opening that invited further investigation.

"Put your finger inside her and see how tight she is," ordered Emma, her own voice having become hoarse due to her earlier activities with Jamie. And without missing a beat, Cillian complied eagerly, gently inserting his index finger into your tight entrance, stroking your walls gingerly. It didn't take much persuasion for you to oblige. 

"She is very tight indeed," he groaned as you looked back at him hungrily and moaned. 

"And look how fucking wet she is too," Cillian observed before withdrawing his finger from your cleft and bringing it up to Emma's mouth, offering it for her to taste. With a hint of playful mischief, she took his offered digit into her mouth, sucking it clean before returning it to its original position between your legs, stimulating you further with her expert technique.  

Jamie joined in, taking hold of your hand and placing it upon his own bulging member, instructing you to stroke him with long, leisurely movements. His manhood twitched in response, causing a sharp flutter within your belly.

"Let me get my tongue between those beautiful lips, sweetheart." Cillian murmured, captivated by your allure. Your whole body thrummed with anticipation as he knelt down again, preparing himself to carry out his request.

"Oh god please," you moaned suddenly as his mouth fastened onto your swollen labia, first tenderly caressing it with gentle bites and licks, then fiercely thrusting his tongue deep into your core. Every time he penetrated you with his tongue, a wave of ecstatic delight swept through your limbs, making you quiver with joy.

At the same time, you stroked Jamie's erect length, reveling in the feeling of his thick, velvety member sliding through your palms. It was an incredible sensory experience you would remember forever.

"Oh god Cillian! This feels so good…" you gasped, unable to contain yourself as a sudden surge of pleasure flooded your entire body. Both men noticed the intensity of your reaction, their eyes burning with the desire they saw reflected in yours and even Emma let out a moan as she watched the scene unfold. 

"Fuck, you taste amazing," praised Cillian appreciatively, savoring the flavors on his tongue after sampling you thoroughly.

As you gazed at Cillian, mesmerized by his dominance, he swiftly stood up and undressed, the sight of which made you let go off Jamie's cock and stare at Cillian's erection instead. His impressive size only added fuel to your desires and Emma smiled wickedly seeing you ogling at Cillian’s package.

"You should taste him. He tastes fantastic!" Emma urged excitedly, prompting you to place your lips around Cillian's rigid length and start sucking greedily.

"Would you like me to?" you asked Cillian nervously, unsure yet enticed by the idea.

"Only if you want to," Cillian said as he gave you a seductive smile.

"I do," you confirmed nervously while, with steady hands, you placed your lips gently over the tip of his erection, allowing just enough air to flow in to create a ticklish sensation. At the same time, Emma began working her magic once more, engaging in an erotic dance with Jamie, teasing him with close encounters and slow caresses. Their passionate interactions intensified, heightening the already charged atmosphere.

"That feels good. Keep going," Cillian urged as you continued sucking him vigorously, taking him as far into your mouth as possible. The sounds of the others lost all meaning as you focused solely on pleasuring Cillian, ignoring the fact that Jamie was taking Emma roughly from behind, right over the back of the couch.

Her moans echoed loudly, signaling her unadulterated enjoyment, despite the precariousness of their positions. The soundtrack playing in the background seemed almost obscene compared to what unfolded before their very eyes.

Cillian's strong hands held your head, guiding you deeper onto his erection gently as you sucked him with increased fervor. With every passing moment, his moans grew louder, betraying his rising excitement. But then, he pulled away abruptly and reached for the packet of condoms which Jamie had conveniently placed on the sofa.

"Do you want me to?" Cillian asked, wanting confirmation before proceeding further. You quickly nodded your assent, desperate to give him whatever he desired.

"Alright, then bend over and face your gorgeous friend," commanded Cillian sternly, demonstrating a level of control few could match. Without delay, you immediately obeyed, turning toward Emma and presenting your round bottom for Cillian to ravage.

As you adjusted your posture accordingly, you caught Emma smirking knowingly at you, evidently proud of your submissiveness while Cillian carefully removed a condom from the pack Jamie provided before rolling it onto his engorged member.

Then, Cillian approached you slowly, letting you savor the impending moment before he entered you.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he rubbed his swollen manhood against your slick folds teasingly, creating a tantalizing friction that left you craving even more. When he felt ready, he applied pressure, angling his hips slightly, allowing his massive length to ease effortlessly into your warm embrace. As his bulk stretched your entrance, you couldn't help but cry out in surprise. Despite the initial discomfort, it served only to excite you even more knowing that you had taken something so large and imposing inside you.

"Fuck you are tight," Cillian exclaimed, his voice filled with raw hunger. His forceful rhythm matched perfectly with your increasing ardor. You threw your head back in a display of utter surrender, your nipples growing harder with each thrust. Meanwhile, Jamie continued to take advantage of Emma's body with reckless abandon.

Emma grunted with satisfaction, mirroring your wild expressions of bliss. Her high pitched whimpers were music to your ears, driving you to push Cillian faster.

"Just last week, Emma had Cillian's cock in her ass. Did you know that?" Jamie groaned, watching you enjoy his friend's hardness with ravenous enthusiasm. "Oh god, you're so fucking hot like this, Em" he then groaned, holding Emma's waist as he drove into her. 

In response, Emma smiled wickedly, her breath coming heavily. "Absolutely, I love being taken and it looks like Y/N enjoys it as well. Just look at her, moaning and squirming while your friend fucks her," Emma commented, her voice dripping with approval. "Oh, God yes. I do. Fuck, please don't stop!" you cried out, driven mad by the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your skin was damp with perspiration, and you could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building in your core.

As your body trembled with the approach of release, Emma reached forward and stroked your face before placing her lips on to yours, causing you to moan into her mouth.

"Fuck, you two are amazing together," Cillian muttered in admiration, looking at you while his pace quickened, pounding into you relentlessly. 

The sensations he created were unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Every nerve ending seemed alive and awake, screaming for more. All of you shared glances of pride and acknowledgement, your eyes meeting briefly before drifting back to focus on the spectacle happening before you. The room itself became hazy with heat, steam from bodies filling the space as everyone indulged in each other's company.

"Do you like this?" Emma whispered softly into your ear, her breath stirring your hair gently.

“Yes. Oh god yes," you replied eagerly, losing track of time completely while Cillian's fingers found your sensitive spots, brushing them tenderly until you begged for more.

"Please, Cillian," you entreated, your voice hoarse from desire. "Keep doing that!" You felt consumed by waves of euphoria crashing one after another, leaving you delirious with pleasure. Each touch of his talented digits sent shockwaves across your body, causing you to lose any sense of reason until, eventually, you could not hold it any longer.

Overwhelmed by the powerful rush of sensations, you climaxed with such intensity that your legs shook, your eyes rolled back in your head, and involuntary gasps escaped your throat.

"Yes, oh god yes," you repeated endlessly, barely aware of what you said anymore. Your whole world narrowed down to the feelings that coursed through your body, nothing else mattering except the pleasure that wracked your frame. And when you finally came down from the edge, you opened your eyes again and heard Emma say "don't waste your cum, Cillian! Pull out of her and let us have a taste!" 

Cillian though hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether to comply with her request. Then, he looked directly into your eyes, making sure you were okay with that and, after receiving a confident nod from you, he pulled out.

"Cum in my mouth and I make sure to share with Em," you said, surprised by your own confidence as, quickly, you dropped to your knees to catch his seed in your mouth. 

Without hesitation, Cillian obliged, directing the head of his cock to your open mouth while stroking himself to climax. 

His cum splattered everywhere as you accepted every drop hungrily, opening wide and using your tongue to clean up any droplets that missed its target. You held his seed in your mouth and, while doing this, you met Emma's expectant gaze.

Leaning towards her, you kissed her lips chastely and allowed Cillian's cum to flow onto her tongue. Smiling triumphantly, she took it eagerly, ensuring there wasn't a single drop left to waste. 

"Fuck that's hot," Jamie mumbled, appreciatively watching from nearby while Cillian simply let out a low groan. This kind of intimate interaction clearly got him excited beyond belief and the sight of you sharing his cum with your friend made him hard all over again.

You, on the other hand, started to feel a bit tired now, still high off your recent orgasm, but also curious as to how your body would react to yet another encounter and, as if he was reading your mind, Cillian offered to take this to the guestroom.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

I don't know if this has been asked before but skeletons try a period cramp simulator what level do they bail out on/do they make it to the last level or do they push through the pain to prove a point?

Undertale Sans - At the first level, he falls on his knees, faceplants on the floor, and refuses to move for three hours. Sorry, that's the best he can do, he's just a little man.

Undertale Papyrus - He keeps going with his day, simply grimacing or jumping slightly from time to time. He goes to level 7 out of 10 then it becomes too much to move and he just decides to curl up on the floor and pretends like he isn't dying right now. He can't go further than this. He understands better what you feel like now, however!

Underswap Sans - He asks you if it's the best you can do at 10 out of 10. Because he's still fine! Ok, he's crying, and can't stand straight anymore and he swears his whole pelvis will dust if he tries to sit up, but he's not giving up! He's a strong boy! He can resist! (He's still glad when he learns you can't increase the difficulty more though).

Underswap Papyrus - He plays it cool like he doesn't feel anything. You can tell it's a lie though because he's turning paler and paler. At 5, he collapses and passes out to protect himself from the pain lol.

Underfell Sans - You think he's scared of your tiny device? Nothing scares him! He taunts you on the five first level, before suddenly shutting up. He still asks you to go further, but you can tell he's just doing it for his ego. He's struggling hard to not break down in tears right now. He won't give you the satisfaction. He just won't. He can't walk straight after for a good hour though.

Underfell Papyrus - "WELL IT'S NOT WORSE THAN THAT TIME I GOT STABBED TWENTY TIMES IN A ROW." He just shrugs. It's not that impressive you know. That's when Undyne punches him in the face and then casually asks if it's hurting now. What. She's helping.

Horrortale Sans - He whimpers pitifully as the pain increases, looking at you with kicked puppy eyes. He stops at 4, because he doesn't like it and it's stressing him out. Well, when I mean stop, I mean he rips off the whole thing from his pelvis, growls, and throws it by the window of course.

Horrortale Papyrus - Wow, he guesses he developed a crazy resistance to pain with his back problem because that's actually not that terrible, even at max. He just shrugs at you. Sure, it's not nice but that's tolerable. You feel sad he thinks max level is his average level of pain in bad days :( That's for sure not cool.

Swapfell Sans - He's still sipping his tea but you can see his hands are shaking a little. He still tries all he can to not show how much it is affecting him actually. Though even him reaches his limit at some point. At 8, the cup of tea literally flies in the air as he has to curl up to ease the pain. He still holds on to 10 though. He knows he can take it.

Swapfell Papyrus - At 3, he's begging to stop, then says that he's fine after all. At five, he's curling up and whimpering, still pressuring you to go more intense. At 6, he's on the floor, holding his stomach with his two arms and crying like a baby. You got him. Now every time Rus is being bad, you threaten him to tie him back to the period cramp simulator and he calms down immediately.

Fellswap Gold Sans - A raised non-existing eyebrow is all you will get as a reaction from him. And a small "ouch." at nine. Wine is not expressive, at all. He's not especially in pain either. He went through so much Underground that it's actually not that painful on his scale of pain. Maybe a 3/10, even at the max level.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He goes to five, collapses, and asks for a five hours cuddle session to recover from that horrible, horrible traumatism you forced him to suffer. You suspect he planned this since the very beginning of that experience as his whimpers started at level 1. But level 1 on your machine is broken so you know he's lying.

[pennyblossom-meta]

The curious case of Anna Green on AO3

Initially a drabble meant to be written in one or two days, this has grown into a full fledged side fic from L's POV.

Dedicated to @lunalit-river and @scar8o. Thank you for always being so supportive 💜

--

Chapters (1/3)

Summary: L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost.”

--

“Ryuzaki, here are the files you asked for.”

“Thank you, Watari.”

The lights are off at this time of night, save for the dim glow cast by the wide monitor resting on a table adjacent to the wall. A humming lingers. It’s faint, incessant, — comfortable, L muses as he wolfs down the last third of a chocolate cake slice — much like static filling the air. Familiar. Drowned by the intermittent snores of the two detectives staying overnight, not quite a crescendo in the strictest sense; even as it grows in energy while the hours tick by. He’s noticed the symphony — though the term cacophony might be more accurate — tends to devolve into a nasal staccato with every 3 or 4 longer exhales, sometimes echoing in obnoxious discordance that makes him more and more certain he’s being pestered by the undiagnosed sequels of mild sleep apnea.

Chewing loudly, he glances at the digital clock on the bottom right corner of the screen; it’s close to a quarter to 5 in the morning. So late it’s almost early.

From the corner of his eye, he sees that Watari stayed behind to tidy up the room. Tilting his head to the left to get a better angle, he examines the slow, deliberate movements with scepticism; they’re as fluid as they’re contrived, as if practised to stall for as long as possible. He draws conclusions from the little things happening in the background; how the delicate china barely clinks against the small coffee spoons when stacked; sugary amanattõ wrappers gathered into a neat pile, set aside; the soft, careful sweeping near the walls so as to avoid rousing the two men from their sleep.

There’s words to be had; his gut tells him there’s a very much non-trivial chance that this will be a precursor to something.

A rustling of papers invites him to glimpse at Watari’s reflection on polished surfaces. It’s closer to 63%, now. Very well.

He skims through the first 10 pages for an overview, his gaze tarrying for a few seconds too long on the picture of a young woman before he turns his attention to the screen. Behind him, the soft brushing of Watari’s coordinated sweeps pauses for a moment and he knows, it’s as evident as rain in April, he stands corrected that this is where the knots will begin to unravel. 

L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost."

Slurp 

He chugs half the tea sitting in his cup, focusing on the scalding hot sensation in the back of his throat as he reads on, picking out bits and pieces.

“...no record that Anna Green was ever present for the entrance exams, though, allegedly, she has scores for them. Below average at best, mediocre to the point that, under normal circumstances, no one with this poor of a performance would be considered for admission. What’s even more intriguing are the reasons why To-Ho agreed to bend the rules for the one student, allowing this woman to bypass university policy and, not only sit for highly competitive and specific exams abroad, but also take up classes from different courses…”

Strange, indeed. Definitely something to look further into. L taps his index finger on the mouse, nail lightly grazing over the ridges on the wheel. He looks up, deep in thought. All this information does beg the question: who exactly allowed this to go overlooked? The university board? A rogue member of staff?

Someone with enough influence to bend the rules?

“...doesn’t exist as a citizen of any country…no travel records in any airline or shipping company coming into or out of Japan…"

Unlawful entrance under a false identity, most definitely. Or as part of a smuggling network. 

"...the only data available is on the university enrollment process…impossible to find anything on the father; the mother’s records (kept maiden name, no mention of a husband or children) show a birthplace at a small town in Italy, 1955, right at the border with Switzerland, and nothing more of consequence...all records left blank from the age of 11 until her death in 1987…no significant medical records either, save for a short comment about the passing itself, as per the following transcription: ‘incidente, avvenuto il 18 gennaio nel Leicestershire, nel Regno Unito’, — filed by the grandfather, dead from prolonged illness by 1988 though ‘grief’ has been listed as a catalyst…”

A freak accident in Leicestershire, on January 18, 1987? What a coincidence that nothing more of substance could be retrieved from these records, save for vague and elusive information. He wonders if this secrecy is related to the father somehow, — he licks his lips to taste the faint remnants of black tea that linger on chapped skin and skims over the university records for the name, narrowed eyes resting again on the young woman's picture — this Atticus Cornelius Green. If that's even his real name.

He looks at the birthdates, realising that she would've been 6, going on 7, at the time of the supposed accident. Only one year younger than himself. It will be her 24th birthday soon, in little more than a month.

Scrolling down the email, he reads on.

"...tuition payments funnelled through Goodfellow's Bank, which appears to be a highly selective, privately owned financial institution based in Britain. Virtually unknown, with only 3 physical offices, total, in Europe and the United States, with no presence in Asia…registered under the apparently long-lived Gringotts Foundation, since the mid 1800’s. On the surface there's nothing questionable about Goodfellow's, though further scrutiny reveals said Foundation is also a major (and the only) shareholder, led by a series of individuals throughout the decades who do not exist beyond the trust…”

Sucking on his spoon thoughtfully, L tastes the dried grains of caffeine that cling to the bowl, agglomerating towards the tip. There’s a small chance that this is witness protection at work, but if so then it’s freakishly elaborate. Dead end after dead end and a myriad of red herrings meant to confuse anyone who investigates, while making it seem perfectly reasonable. Outstandingly legal. One would have to read between those creatively woven lines. 

But then there’s the shadow bank. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and acts like a duck, then it is a duck — or so the saying goes. Official police forces wouldn’t be able to resort to these underhanded tactics without a tangible need; and there would be an inquiry or requisition beforehand. Someone would have to budge. Things like these always leave a trail. Though the British Secret Services could potentiate such a scenario and there would be nothing to pursue, if they so wished. 

But to what end? For a trip abroad? It didn’t make sense. There’s abuse of the law and then there’s playing around it, dangling the threads like a puppet master.

“...there’s no system to hack and therefore no personal data to retrieve. Any bank transfers seem to be made in person, at the London office. Though To-Ho lists two different addresses for foreign students; Anna Green’s file shows one in the UK and the other in Japan. The former is registered as the sole property of one Awarnach Greengrass near Windsor, dating to the late 1600’s, and has never been updated since. Otherwise, the several acres for this plot of land are not even accounted for in modern records — or pay taxes.

The latter address points to a building just a 5 minute walk outside of To-Ho. Records for the building show that it’s registered as having only 7 floors. However, the primary plans kept at the Ministry of Land and Infrastructure display a total of 8 — approved and built. The addendum was placed without rebuttal this past month of March, 4 years after the structure had been built and all apartments sold without exception. The previous proprietor of the 8th floor died mid-February and left no family to inherit, though his name was stricken from the more recent record updates…”

This isn’t like the hunt for Morello, with knotted threads and underworld connections; not when he discovered the swindles, the under the table deals with art galleries and high class politicians, in a spectacle of dazzling lights and charming conversations. Definitely nothing like Merri Kenwood’s indiscretions as the thrill-seeking second daughter of a wealthy family.

No, whatever he’s stumbled upon is much more insidious and has tendrils across the decades. 

Narrowing his eyes, L quickly reads Near’s conclusion: “...the majority of these records are fabricated with the intent to appear official, when in reality they’re nothing but a smokescreen…”

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that he’s tripped over the proverbial basket of kittens, only to find a nest of snakes. And with the murders case ongoing, does this invalidate the theory that Misa Amane might be the Second Kira? No, they’ve gathered more than enough evidence for Amane in the past few weeks, but whether this is another loose thread…

“Watari?”

He feels rather than sees Watari approach.

“Any DNA match with the bloodied gauze?” he murmurs, confident on what the answer will be.

“None at all.”

“I see. Thank you.”

There’s only a very slim chance that this is related to the Kira case, but the coincidences are too many to believe that this is entirely unrelated. Or if it is, then there’s something else happening here. I’ve met Anna Green and I’m sure she doesn’t fit the profile for the First Kira — as for the Second, there’s nothing connecting her to Light Yagami or Misa Amane…am I overthinking this?

Wiggling his toes, L starts to draw his hand towards the box of chocolates on the table. He hears a light shuffle. “There’s also the matter of M,” Watari all but whispers, voice urgent and grim.

Ah, there is it.

He swallows a bonbon. “What about him?” 

Hesitant, Watari glances over his shoulder towards the detectives sprawled on the sofas. Once he’s adequately sure that they’re still fast asleep, he continues, “It seems that M hacked into N’s server and somehow managed to decrypt your correspondence, along with all available research data on the case…”

His lips twitch ever so slightly. Behind him, Watari can’t see his amusement. 

A scattered trail of crumbs — quite possibly with Near’s veiled consent. Sounds like a move to gleefully fuel Mello’s one-sided competition — or perhaps…

An allowance?

“Predictable, if unwise,” he licks the corner of his mouth, lapping at the bits of chocolate left behind. Hazelnut — and caramel. Slightly salty, but edible. 

“— travelled to London on his own to investigate the premises of this Goodfellow’s Bank, but only found a closed shop with no visible schedule. Nearby residents confirmed they had never seen it open.”

“That would be the primary office in Charing cross Road (1), yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Then it’s a red herring, as expected.” 

“Unfortunately that’s not all,” if possible, Watari lowers his voice even further, making L cock his head to the side as he strains to listen to this secret. “Days later, M stole a car and drove by himself straight to Windsor through the motorway, where he decided to prowl the farmlands until almost running out of gas. According to M’s report, he seems to have stumbled upon the property registered under the Green family — although his findings point to a derelict mansion in the middle of the forest, not a livable estate.”

Watari sifts through the stack of papers, picking the last set in the pile with the upper left corner folded into a neat triangle. N emailed, while M chose to fax , he whispers. L pinches the top of the file, his eyes moving quickly from left to right, up and down, until he’s made a mental map of the contents.

“ ‘...ruins surrounded by crumbling gates and overgrown English ivy that claimed the entire structure a long time ago…’ — I see, so it couldn’t be it at all. Yet another red herring,” he drawls, looking up at the ceiling. Shadows dance, long-limbed and distant, illusive. “Though this does give more credence to the witness protection theory, I’m still not sure…”

Is this indeed a case of false identity? Theft and blackmail? What’s going on?

He reads the last page and frowns. “M didn’t examine the property?” 

A rhetorical question, to which Watari merely shakes his head. ‘...lost interest in a useless cat and mouse chase, not worth looking for clues here. Forgot to bring a lantern.(2)’ L puts down the file, placing it on top of the stack, thinking it’s a strange conclusion for Mello to reach, especially when he's so desperate to prove himself above Near. It pays for the overconfident to be thorough. And he knows that well enough, despite his impetuousness.

Lodging a fingernail between his two front teeth, L ponders over Mello’s words once more. The attitude itself is out of the ordinary.

Watari busies himself cleaning the crumbs under his armchair, in silence. Then, he tidies the stack, now out of order. Waiting for a follow up, no doubt; but these things can’t be rushed. L pours through photos of the landscape, scrutinising every inch of the images; any resulting from this adventure are blurry and pigmented, as if altered post-processing. An unfortunate accident, explained when the camera malfunctions shortly after Mello is — as he states in brash words, the offence visible even through writing — suddenly picked up by a police car on the motorway. The agents sputtered, perplexed that a 14 year old boy drove a stolen car. Roger had to pay a hefty fine to keep Mello out of juvenile prison. He also gets out of a damning record for underage driving, thanks to the many contacts at Wammy’s.

Lame-ass, he calls it.

As expected, Mello seems unhappy with this particular turnout. His intelligence combined with bubbling insecurities and a natural inclination towards the extreme, Mello has the makings of a fairly competent criminal.

L narrows his eyes, “Say, do we have the results on the ‘coin collection’?”

A rustle of fabric. Watari promptly pours him more tea, the robust aroma wafting upwards, “The bu is an authentic coin from the Edo Period, nowadays often on display at museums or secured by ancient history collectors. One single piece would be up for sale starting at 1.5 thousand, subject to the seller’s reputation.”

“There were at least 12 on the floor that night, some perhaps more obscure than currency from Edo if my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he taps his lips with one pale finger, looking thoughtful. “What about the other one?”

“The second coin is made of solid gold, though the minting — remarkable as it is — doesn’t match any known branch. The coinage alone is entirely unknown, even if it bears Gringott's Foundation inscriptions."

Could they really be collectibles, after all?

He nods. “Thank you for your diligence, Watari. As always,” he adds after a heartbeat, quietly slurping the remnants of his black tea, “Please file these away as soon as you’re able.”

L eyes the now neatly arranged stack. For the last time, he allows himself to stare at the picture on the first page before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Of course.”

Silent as a shadow, Watari leaves.

I have a lot of thinking to do. But she doesn’t fit the profile…and I’m certain Amane is the Second Kira, at this point. No, this is something else entirely.

Alone again save for the sleeping detectives, L finds that his fingers clench over his knees of their own accord, muscles taunt and knuckles blanching bone white as he looks out the window at the waking sun. 

Another day, another mystery.

...

TBC

[pinkcoffeecup]

three doors down, part three

part 3, the nickname

story summary: In which Spencer’s terrible cooking skills almost burns down a building, but also gives him a chance to get to know the girl who lives three doors down.

masterlist

word count: 2,491

Spencer was exhausted. When the clock struck 4 am, Y/n ushered Spencer out of her apartment and into his own, telling him how important sleep was, and how crime would skyrocket unless Spencer got a couple of hours of sleep at the very least. She had apologised for keeping him up, and despite his polite reassurance that she in fact was not to blame for his sleep schedule, Y/n could not help but feel bad.

When he stepped out of his apartment that morning, he was once more met by Y/n as she came back from her morning run. Spencer had already established her loyalty to the various routines that her days consisted of, but he couldn’t help but be shocked by her standing in the hallway. “Oh, good morning,” She breathed, still somewhat out of her breath.

“Good morning Y/n,” Spencer greeted. “I can’t believe you went on a run after only three hours of sleep,”

Y/n let out a laugh and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at how carefree she seemed. There was something about her, and just being around her gave him a burst of energy, like he could concur the world. “I always go for runs in the mornings! I can’t let a little lack of sleep stop me,” She laughed, “I’m no baby, Dr Reid,”

“We could use a little of that mentality in the FBI,” Spencer joked, “I swear, the annual fitness tests we have are un-passable, Morgan has to be the only one who still manages,”

She raised her eyebrows at the supposedly “impossible” fitness test, secretly curious if she could ever pass it. “How hard can it be?” Y/n challenged, “I mean, if this Morgan guy can do it, it’s not impossible,”

“As I said, we could use that mentality in the FBI,” He repeated, “Derek Morgan is no average Joe, he’s absolutely massive,”

Y/n looked Spencer up and down. He was dressed in a black suit, looking as formal as ever, a vast contrast from last night's scruffy hair and wrinkled shirt. “Are you sizing me up?” Spencer laughed, “I’m taller than him you know,”

“So you’re just weak then? Is that it?” She teased, watching as he let out a painful scoff.

“They make exceptions for me,” Spencer said, “What I lack in muscle mass I make up for in brains,”

“Aren’t you cocky?” Y/n laughed, “Hyping yourself up there Dr Reid,”

Once more Spencer scoffed, “I can’t win here” He chuckled, “I'm going to be late because of you, which I was fine with by the way, until you start completely shredding me to pieces,”

Y/n smiled at his choice of words, which I was fine with. “You’re a menace Y/n,” He joked as he walked past her, turning around and walking backwards so that he could still see her. “Have a good day Lucifer,”

“Good luck with your case Sherlock!” She called as he turned the corner.

----

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer muttered as he sat down in his seat. He was the last one to arrive, everyone was already seated around the table.

“Who’s the pretty girl?” Morgan cooed, a wide grin on his face.

He had probably said it as a joke, but Spencer’s mind travelled directly to Y/n and their conversation in the hallway. “Shut up,” Spencer sighed, causing Hotch to quickly begin the briefing.

The day was long. Every so often Spencer would find Y/n at the forefront of his mind, having to force himself to focus on the case in front of him. But he just couldn’t help himself. He wondered if she’d be in the hallway when he came home, asking him about his day. Or if maybe he’d run into her in the parking lot, where she would crack a joke and invite him in for another night of leftovers and wine.

Eventually, the team cracked the case. It was the combined effort of Spencer’s mind and Garcia's computers that had found the final puzzle piece. In the satisfactory haze of success, Spencer had even found himself agreeing to drinks with the team, something he rarely did.

As he sat down in his car, he contemplated ignoring his promise to meet his colleagues at the bar and just going home instead, remembering how badly he was wondering if he’d cross paths with Y/n. But he didn’t, instead, he turned the keys in the ignition and headed towards the bar.

“You just lost me ten bucks!” Morgan exclaimed as Spencer walked through the doors, handing ten dollar bill to Prentiss. “I didn’t think you’d show up,”

Emily gladly accepted the money and shoved it in her pocket, “I never doubted you, Reid,”

Even Hotch had made it to the bar before him, another participant who usually sat these things out, “I never break a promise,” Spencer smiled, trying to ignore his urge to turn on his heels and drive back home.

The team sat together in a booth. They always did, at least for the first part of the night. After thirty minutes, Morgan would spot a girl he liked, and pretend he was going to get a drink. Then shortly after, Garcia would pull JJ and Prentiss out of their seats to dance. Once everyone had dispersed, Rossi would complain about the music and go home. And once he had made sure everyone had a safe way of getting home, Hotch would leave too. “Spence,” JJ said, “It’s your turn!”

She glanced at the empty glasses on the table and back up at Spencer who rose from his seat, heading towards the bar. He ordered a round of drinks for the table, about to turn back to the team when he heard a voice next to him.

“Hi, could I please get one beer and two margaritas?” The voice politely ordered, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the girl order. The bartender muttered the total amount, and as the girl fished through her purse for money, Spencer reached his card to the bartender.

“Wha-” She interrupted herself as she glanced up at the man next to her. “Spencer!” She pulled him in for a hug, and despite Spencer’s shock, he gladly wrapped his arms around her. “I didn’t know the famous Dr Raid was a party animal!”

Spencer let out a laugh, “I very much am not,” He admitted, “I’m here with work,”

He nodded towards the booth in the corner, watching as they all laughed at some joke Morgan had made. “Shit, I have to warn everyone the feds are here!” She joked, starting to hurry away.

Spencer placed his hands on her shoulders, as to keep her from running, “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” He said, “Being one of the feds and all,”

She laughed, leaning her head against his hand on her shoulder. It was clear that she was already somewhat drunk, tipsy as Garcia would say. But Spencer didn't mind, he couldn’t help but find it adorable. “What? Is snitching a crime?” She grinned.

“It can be,” Spencer informed her, “And if you commit a crime I have no choice but to arrest you,”

Spencer’s flirtatious tone even surprised himself, it was a tone he didn’t think he was quite capable of. “I was called Lucifer by my neighbour this morning,” She said, referring to Spencer’s words, “So for all you know I might be a criminal,”

Right as Spencer was about to open his mouth to speak, another voice interrupted him. “Hey Reid what the hell is taking so long?” Morgan called from behind him. It wasn’t until Morgan was close enough to peer over Spencer’s shoulder that he could see Y/n. “Oh hello there,” He grinned.

“Is this that Morgan guy?” Y/n asked Spencer, holding back a laugh as she earned a nod from Spencer.

“Wow pretty boy, you’ve told her about me? I’m flattered,” Morgan joked, Spencer already annoyed with his best friend for interrupting his time with Y/n.

“Yeah,” Y/n laughed, “Spencer thinks you’re jacked,”

It was as if Y/n had made it her personal mission to embarrass the man in front of her. “He called you massive and muscular,” She giggled, only lying a little bit.

“Thanks, Reid, I’m glad you feel that way,” Morgan grinned, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a hand that Spencer quickly shoved off.

Spencer let out a sigh, “this is Derek Morgan, as you know,” He said, deciding to introduce the two, “And Morgan, this is Lucifer,”

Y/n reached her hand out, “I’m Y/n,” She shook Morgans's hand, an innocent smile on her face, almost as if she was trying to dispute Spencer's nickname. “Nice to meet you Y/n,”

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” Morgan grabbed the drinks on the bar, heading back to the booth and the team, earning a small cheer once he arrived.

Spencer only now realised how very close he and Y/n had been standing to each other. She had to tilt her head up to be able to look at him. Looking down at the girl in front of him, Spencer's flirtatious tone returned. “Massive and muscular, huh?”

Y/n let out a loud laugh, throwing her head back slightly. “Is that not what you said, Doctor?” She teased, batting her eyes up at him.

“You really are Lucifer,” Spencer grinned, “The worst of the worst,”

Spencer shook his head playfully as Y/n laughed once more. It was a sound he loved to hear, and he loved that he made her make it. “You know me so well,” She giggled.

She turned her head for a second, gazing at two girls behind her, “I have to give them their drinks,” She said, a small flash of disappointment on her face. “Could you help me carry?”

Spencer nodded, grabbing two of the drinks, and letting her hold the last one. Y/n led the way, Spencer following close behind. It gave Spencer an opportunity to get a good look at her and the beautiful dress she was wearing. It was a short blue dress, the fabric flowing beautifully around her thighs as she walked. Half of her hair was clipped up at the back of her head, but a few strands of hair had escaped the clip and were resting softly across her face. “I come bearing gifts,” Y/n handed the beer to a dark-haired girl, and through the process of elimination, I handed one of the margaritas to the other girl, earning a small thank you from them both. “You come bearing more gifts than drinks I see,” The dark-haired girl grinned, glancing between Spencer and Y/n.

Y/n turned to Spencer, grabbing the drink from his grip and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Yeah,” She smiled, glancing up at Spencer next to her. “This is Spencer,”

“Oh this is the hot neighbour,” The dark-haired girl said, “I’m Astrid, this is Violet,” Astrid motioned to the girl next to her, who gave a shy wave.

Spencer looked down at Y/n, enjoying the way her face turned a bright shade of red. “I am indeed the hot neighbour, a pleasure to meet you both,”

Spencer felt a sense of pride fill his body at the thought of Y/n telling her friends about him, even more so as she described him as the hot neighbour. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been referred to as just that, hot, but the thought of it made a wide grin make its way to his lips. “You’ve made him cocky,” Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes, “Don’t let it get to your ego Spencer,”

“Too late for that,” Spencer chuckled. He peeled Y/n’s arm off his body, deciding that it was time to make his way back to the team. “I’m gonna leave you girls for a bit, make sure you talk more about that hot neighbour of yours Y/n” He smirked before leaving the group and Y/n.

When Spencer had made his way back to the team, the table fell silent with anticipation. “So?” JJ said, waiting for Spencer to tell them all about the girl he’d just been caught with.

“What?” Spencer said, hoping that somehow they’d drop the topic and ignore how his cheeks were slowly turning red.

“Lucifer seems nice,” Morgan grinned, watching as Spencer turned a bright red.

“Lucifer?” Prentiss questioned, yet unaware of the nickname.

Morgan was happy to tell them about how that was how he’d decided to introduce her, and Spencer silently cursed himself for being so wrapped up in the moment.

The team continued to question Reid, but as they realised how little they were getting out of him, they decided to finally drop it. Soon enough, they had all returned to their regular bar-behaviour. Morgan had run off after a girl, Garcia had pulled JJ and Prentiss up to dance, and Hotch and Rossi were long gone.

As Spencer sat by himself in the booth, watching his friends as they drunkenly made their way through the bar, a finger poked the back of his shoulder. Spencer turned around, seeing a surprisingly nervous Y/n behind him. “Are you okay?” He asked, worried about her change of mood.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She smiled, trying to add a careless touch to her body language. “I was just wondering if, uh, maybe you could, I don’t know, I was just thinking, since you’re sober-”

Spencer interrupted her, “You need a ride?” He asked, finding it adorable how nervous she had been to ask him. “If it’s not too much of a bother? We don’t have to leave right now if you want to stay,” She assured.

“No, we can leave right away, sit down here, let me just say goodbye to my friends,” He said, and she did as she was told, sitting down at the booth as Spencer moved through the bar to the dancing women in the middle of the room.

Y/n watched as he said his goodbyes to the women, before moving towards Morgan as he talked to a girl at the bar. Morgan grinned at Y/n as Spencer spoke to him, causing Spencer to roll his eyes before heading back towards a now smiling Y/n. “Let’s go,” He sighed, Y/n standing from her seat.

Spencer looked at her for a second, watching as Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed slightly with confusion. He pulled the suit jacket off his shoulders, wrapping it around hers, “It’s cold out,” He said, earning a shy thank you from the girl in front of him. He watched as she placed her arms through the jacket, shoving her hands in the pockets. The jacket looked massive on her, reaching right above the hem of her dress.

The two left the bar, Spencer ignoring Morgans's smirk as they walked out the front doors. “Thanks for giving me a ride,”

“Anytime,” Spencer flashed her a warm smile, opening the passenger side door for Y/n. “We do live in the same apartment complex after all,” Spencer hopped in at the driver's side, taking a second to look at Y/n in his car, wearing his jacket, before he started the car.

The ride was mostly silent, Spencer could see how Y/n was practically fighting to keep her eyes open as the streetlights lit up her face. She was pretty like that, as her head rested against the seat, her dress inching up her thigh slightly as she got comfortable in her seat.

Soon they had reached the parking lot outside the apartment complex, “Taxi has arrived ma’am,” Spencer joked, earning a tired giggle from Y/n as they both hopped out of the car, heading inside together.

The two walked to Y/n’s door where she stopped. She began taking the suit jacket off but was interrupted by Spencer. “Keep it for a while,” He said, pulling the jacket back up her shoulder.

Spencer looked down at her as she smiled, his expression all too serious in contrast to hers. “What?” She asked, watching as Spencer smiled once more. “You’re really pretty,” He said, feeling nervous despite his coined nickname as the hot neighbour.

“Don’t fall victim to the doorstep effect,” She giggled, only being met by Spencer’s confusion. “The doorstep effect?” He questioned.

“Yeah, it’s when the guy feels like he wants to kiss the girl because of the whole romance cliche about kissing on doorsteps,” She explained, “It’s a very real thing, Spencer,”

“I don’t think it’s because of the cliché,” Spencer admitted, taking a small step closer.

“But you want to kiss me?” Y/n asked, almost as if to confirm.

“Can I?”

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she placed a hand on each side of his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. Her lips met his, and Spencer was quick to hold her face as he deepened the kiss. He hadn’t been aware of how much he had craved this kiss until her lips were on his.

Slowly, Spencer pulled away, loving the look in her eyes as she craved more. “Good night, Lucifer,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Good night Spencer,”

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[writingsfromhome]

Red Rose II

A/N: Did some more work on this series. It’s one of the first fics I ever posted here (2020!?!) but felt writer’s block every time I tried to continue. The story is finally shaping up in my head though. It deals with fantastical elements. I’d say it’s not exactly my average fic…

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————

My head is pounding like a bass drum when I wake up, the room I’m in is too dark to see but the sliver of light coming from below the curtains gives the day away. I try to make out the room around me, the night comes back to me in bits.

I must be at the handsome bloke’s-Harry it was. I remember, Harry offered to let me crash at his. I gently turn to stare at the spot next to me but it looks made. He slept somewhere else—he really was a gentleman.

My body creaks as I pivot off the bed and onto the plush carpet. With the softness of the covers and the quality of the carpet, I figured Harry was well off. Compared to my Ikea flat, and synthetic rugs, this was a castle.

I find the light switch and the brightness assaults my sensitive eyes, but I make out a bathroom off to the side. Sweet.

I looked horrible; as hard as I’d done myself up last night I had undone myself in the hours following. And looking at my puffy face and raccoon eyes, I could barely believe Harry wasn’t more afraid of me. Maybe he just pitied me.

By the time I walk back into the room, the curtains have been pushed open, the bed made, and a plain black tee and palazzo pants in my size lay on the bed. It looks exactly like something I would wear on my day off. A glass of water and two painkillers sit on the sidetable. There was no way Harry did all this, how did he find clothes in my size? And why would he make my bed?

I leave the questions for later and take the painkillers (after double checking the label), take the clothes back into the shower and wash the weird night away. It’s not hard finding the kitchen from the smell of coffee and baked goods.

I find Harry sitting in a robe on the balcony off to an open concept kitchen. Two women prepare breakfast, in uniform—so they definitely weren’t family, and another man in uniform stands outside. He definitely didn’t make my bed. I quietly head out to Harry.

“Once I can, that’s all she needs to know.” Harry sips a coffee with his back to me. The man outside only nods to me before going back in.  

“Rose,” Harry says. I jump, how did he know I was here. “I can see your reflection in the glass.”

“Do you read minds or something?” I ask as I walk into his view and settle into the chair opposite him.

“Or something,” he smiles. From what I remember from yesterday, he was big and bold and broody but this morning his face is lit from below and he doesn’t seem as intimidating—it holds a kindness that was missing yesterday. At an angle, he looks almost harmless. Almost.

“Thanks for...well for everything.” I wasn’t sure how to approach his kindness. I knew everything came with a price, Harry was being really nice, he’d kept to his word and left me to recover, but I didn’t know why. That made me uneasy. As I think it, Harry fixes me with a stare, waiting for me to continue but I don’t know what to say so I babble. “I usually don’t do this, follow strangers home. But last night was kind of really awful and-shit, Jeremy! I..”

I pat my pockets out of habit but of course my phone isn’t there. I look up and my phone is on the table. I grab it, and look up, Harry continues to stare as if he was watching a rat in a maze he’d constructed and a chill goes down my spine.

Leave it up to me to make things weird.

My train of thoughts freak me out so I just excuse myself and go inside, my screen isn’t cracked anymore. I run my finger over the screen to make sure but it’s entirely smooth. Was I hallucinating yesterday?

“Y/N, why are you calling so bloody early?” Jeremy’s sleepy voice answers the phone. I check the room and spot the time on the fridge. 8:44.

“Sorry, must be the jet lag. I just want you to know I’m okay.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you be?” I hear him shuffling.

“I...” I realise he knew absolutely nothing from yesterday. I never called him-he probably thinks I’m still at my ex’s! “I’m sorry Jer go back to bed. I’ll explain later.”

He grumbles something but he sounds half-asleep already. I tuck my phone into my pocket and go back outside. The women have disappeared and a buffet is laid out in front of Harry. He points to my seat and I take it.

“Wow,” I was at a loss for words. But I ask, “Did you fix my phone?”

“It fell out of your pocket when I was helping you to bed.” Harry says. “I cracked the screen so I fixed it. Brought it out here for when you had breakfast.”

“Oh no, I um, I actually broke it last night!” I pull it out with a nervous laugh. How did he fix it? “I got angry and sort of...yeah, anyway, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me. I really...I’m actually overwhelmed with how nice you’re being.” My laugh comes out in a rush of air, I’m trying to figure this man out. He didn’t feel threatening but there were all these red flags that made it seem so.

He finally cracks a smile back and nods. “This is how a woman like yourself should be treated. Let’s just enjoy the feast, and enjoy the morning.”

I smile as he pours me coffee. Something in the back of my head wants to analyze everything about the man in front of me, his good looks and his good manners. But also the cold way he observes me versus the short bursts of sunshine in his laugh. His hand keeps brushing mine, and he makes me blush with his compliments. But he continues to call me Rose, he doesn’t even ask for my name again. So I don’t offer it.

“So do you do this often?” I ask. “Invite a stranger from a pub and take care of her?”

“I’ve been visiting The Good Folk for decades and I’ve never met a woman like you.”

My heart skips a beat, not at the compliment. He said decades, but he had less wrinkles than I did and I wasn’t even 30. How old was he?

“I bet you say that to all the women you take home,” I say.

“Yes,” he admits and I look up from my toast. He seems unfazed by his admission but he notices my expression, “What?”

“You just admitted to saying that to all the women you take home.”

“Yes?” He stares. “This is the first time I’ve taken a woman home from there.”

It sounds like a lie or a technicality but he’s entirely honest. And I don’t know how I know that.

The uniformed man suddenly appears and says something to Harry who excuses himself and leaves. Was he like Mr. Alfred, butler to a billionaire type? Harry sure was mysterious enough to have one.

I use the time alone to look around, the view showed an expanse of green fields and in the distance the skyline of London. I’d lived here all my life yet I couldn’t figure where exactly we were.

I look back inside, the place is spotless. Harry must be richer than I thought if he could afford a place like this and hire help. He was a gentleman with a streak of odd, I conclude.

I wanted to figure the odd bit out.

“Are you done with breakfast?” I jump when one of the women from earlier appears beside me. But on a closer look, she was a lot younger than me. Maybe around 15?

“I’m done. You’re quite young. What’s your name?”

She giggles and looks back to where the other women is watering the outdoor plants. When she turns at the sound of the giggles, I realise she was just as young. Was this even legal?

“I’m called Dot, that’s Oona.”

“Nice to meet you Dot.” I watch as she picks up a stack of plates. She was stronger than she looked but still I ask, “Do you need help?”

She just giggles again as if what I asked was absurd and simply carries the large stack inside. I decide to help anyway, feeling unusual if I sat while they cleared the table. It wasn’t something I was used to.

I drop the coffee cups off on the counter when Harry appears and pulls me away.

“What are you doing?” He demands.

“I’m just helping clear...” I turn to point to the girls but they stare at us. It reminds me of the weird motorcycle guy yesterday who offered to give me a ride home. They have the same look in their eyes and when I turn to Harry I can see why. His features are set in an aggressive expression. I didn’t know what I’d done except to help out, and I didn’t want the two girls to get in trouble.

“Harry I...” I touch his arm. “They didn’t ask or nothing, I was just sitting there and thought I could help. I’m not usually waited on...especially by girls younger than me so it was just weird to just sit there.”

His eyes slide from the two behind me to me, his expression softens ever so slightly. “We all have our roles. Let them do theirs. They’ve been in my employment for many years.”

“Okay,” I agree quickly. I wanted to move away from the tense room and shift Harry’s attention away from Dot and Oona. I would have to apologise later, I didn’t mean to get them in trouble. And maybe ask what their skin care tips were—there was no way Harry hired children so they must have amazing genetics.

“Did you have any plans today? I know you people usually go to work during the day,” Harry leads me to a large room that must be an office. I’m taken aback by his bluntness saying “my people”.

“We’re not all rich unfortunately,” I say passively. I couldn’t figure out if Harry was a good guy or not. One second he was kindly hosting me and the next he looks ready to throw his help out the window because I helped them.

“What do riches have to do with your plans?” Harry looks genuinely confused. He played aloof really well.

“My people?” I remind him.

“Yes, what do you do during the day?”

I shake my head. He was so confusing. “I usually have work but I’m off for the week. I thought I would spend today with...my ex. But after yesterday-“

“You deserve better. He doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

I laugh, slightly nervous having all his attention so close. “Right. That’s nice of you to say. But I seem to have a bad history with men, I don’t think I even know what I deserve at this point.”

“I thought it was human nature to follow your hearts?” Harry stops fiddling with the book in his hands and moves towards me. “Love makes the world go round or something like that?” Harry drags his fingers up and down my arm and I feel it in the pit of my stomach. “How can you not know what you deserve.”

“I...” words leave my mind as I lean in towards him. His touch empties me of thought and I just want more of him. But as I lean into him it’s like he realises what was happening. He jumps back, letting go of me and I straighten up.

“Uh,” Harry clears his throat, “I can’t-“ he looks to the door just as it creaks open, I immediately feel the familiar burn of embarassment that came with rejection. What was wrong with me? He kept making it clear he was just being nice, he wasn’t interested like that. Why did I react to him so strongly?

“What is it?” Harry sounds annoyed at whoever’s at the door. When I finally look, it’s the man from earlier. His Alfred.

“Your presence is needed at...” he glances at me and back at Harry.

“I told you, tell her I’ll get back to her once I can-“

“It’s quite urgent,” his butler’s eyes continue flicking between the both of us.

I check the time on my phone and the movement catches Harry’s attention. I avoid looking directly at him, “I should head back home now anyway. You’re obviously busy.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a low voice. “You can stay as long as you need.”

“I’m pretty recovered from last night,” I smile. “I think I just have some of my things in the room I stayed in.”

“Dot will get it for you,” Harry puts his hand on my back as I walk to the door. His butler continues staring at us as he moves aside and follows us out.

Dot suddenly appears with my wallet and clothes from yesterday, laundered and smelling amazing.

“Wow,” I take them from her, scanning her face to be sure she was alright. She just gives me a bright smile contrasting her icy hands. “Thank you.” I tell her and turn back to Harry, “I can’t thank you enough for last night. I was a mess and...you helped. I seriously owe you one.”

Harry’s sharp gaze settles on me and I hear a gasp from Dot. It’s like the air was sucked out of the room, I glance back at Dot and her eyes are wide. His butler also looks startled. Were they okay?

“You don’t need to,” Harry finally says. “Consider it a kindness, not a favour.”

“No no,” I walk with Harry towards the front. His house was like a maze. “Nobody is ever this kind for no reason, I’ll make it up to you.” If there was anything life taught me, strangers didn’t do things out of pure kindness. I didn’t want strings down the road. I would rather just let him know I would return the favour and have that sit between us.

His expression is unreadable as he opens the door, a woman already stands outside with a car idling on the road. Woah.

“I accept,” Harry says. I raise my eyebrow, he had an odd way of talking. That’s what made him more intriguing.

On impulse, I go to press a quick kiss to his cheek but he jerks back. I back away, my cheeks aflame, and walk out with my things in hand. The woman opens my door for me and as hard as I try, I still glance back at Harry before I get in and give him a lame wave. His gaze never leaves mine, even after I sit in. He really did just do this to help me out, I read too much into it. He obviously didn’t feel the attraction I felt.

***

“You know that sounds completely made up? I’ve never even heard of The Good Folk.”

It’s late afternoon and I’m catching Jeremy up on last night’s adventure. I didn’t think his eyes could get bigger than they already were but with each part of the story they grow wider.

“As if you know every single pub in London,” I roll my eyes at my best friend.

“If the pub was lit at 1am it must be popular enough-I would know. Where does this guy live?”

“I...” I try to remember the route we took back to my flat but it’s foggy. Maybe I was too preoccupied with getting over being rejected multiple times. But I do remember we arrived at my flat within half hour. “Right outside London but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Doesn’t sound like you,” Jeremy nudges me. “Does somebody have a new special somebody in their life already?”

“I wish!” I really did. “He was mostly distant, nothing happened! He didn’t even let me kiss him goodbye. Plus, I just broke up with you know who.”

“We all knew that chapter was coming to a close,” Jer huffs. “You weren’t even in love with him.”

“Well,” I don’t have much to say to that. Jeremy was right, the relationship was getting colder. And after a warm bath and a meal, I could see clear enough. I was angry yesterday for letting it get to the point I was cheated on. I never had the balls to end it myself. As strong as I made myself on the outside, I hadn’t been strong enough inside to admit it and just end it.

Mostly I was scared to be alone again.

“Well,” Jeremy pulls me into a hug and kisses my forehead. “I’m going to start some dinner for us. You can go through the mail that’s been piling up for you.”

I reach for the stack he drops down beside me. Most of the bills I paid online, I put those aside. Junk, pamphlets, which just left two to actually look at. The first is a postcard from my foster sister, she was doing her gap year and made sure to send me a postcard from each country even though I’d seen her while I was away. The other is unmarked, thin. I open it and inside is just a note.

The Good Folk, tonight. 10:30pm.

Did Harry send this? I flip the paper over but it’s blank, until it catches the light and I realize the faint shimmer of a logo. It’s a spiral in the palest silver but there’s nothing else written anywhere. Maybe Harry did send it, he didn’t have my number but he did know where I lived. Maybe I was seeing him again tonight, maybe Jer was right. Butterflies take over my nervous system but I tell them not to get their hopes up. They don’t listen.

“What are you grinning at?” Jeremy calls from the kitchen—the open concept allowed him to see me.

“I might have a date tonight, half past ten,” I hold up the paper. “Harry.”

“Ooh,” he grins before it morphs into concern. “That’s late...you don’t think?”

“We’ll see,” I skim my fingers over the writing. Maybe he just wanted to talk, but if a guy wanted to see you twice in a day that usually meant something right? Even though he looked afraid everytime I went in for a kiss. I sigh. We’ll see.

***

I look back at the shops around me. I swear this was where I was last night. But the place where The Good Folk should have stood was just a Gregg’s. A Google search didn’t turn up anything so all I had to rely on was memory and even that was shoddy.

I ask a couple passing by but nobody knows what I’m talking about. Great, Harry would probably think I stood him up.

I decide to wander, maybe I’ll stumble on it again. I don’t even try to think, hoping my memory will lead me. The dark streets remind me of my near meltdown last night. It was late, if I didn’t find it in the next five minutes I was driving back.

Just as I think it, I see a familiar sign. The Good Folk. But it’s on a street corner and it was most definitely not on a corner last night. Definitely weird.

When I walk in, it’s past 10:30 and I hope Harry wouldn’t mind. I walk to the bar, even more people staring tonight than last. I definitely didn’t look how I did last night, was it just because I wasn’t a regular?

“Surprised you’re back,” the barkeep actually acknowledges me today. He has a petite woman working the counter too.

“Just meeting someone,” I say. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was late too.

“A woman like you should be careful,” he sets a drink in front of me.

“I didn’t order th-“

“I did,” a soft voice says to my left. I look at the source, and am surprised to see a blonde guy who definitely was not Harry. He did look familiar. Then I remember, I saw him last night.

“I know you. You were here yesterday-or rather this morning right?” He has kind eyes when he smiles at my question.

“Yes, I saw you come and go. I never got the chance to speak with you.”

I take a seat, may as well while I waited. As I do I remember more; he was glaring at Harry when we left. “Now’s your chance!” I smile at him and take a sip. “Woah, this is amazing.”

“I thought you might like it,” he watches me drink more. I wasn’t even halfway through and I already wanted a second. “Wild elderberry cocktail.”

“I have to remember that,” I say and make a mental note as I gulp down more.

“I never caught your name...”

“Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself how rude of-“

“Rose,” my back straightens as Harry’s familiar voice rings across the bar. What was up with him interrupting my conversations here?

“Rose,” the blonde nods, ignoring the fact that Harry had answered his question. I open my mouth to correct him, to give my real name but he gives me his. “Elliot.”

I can’t even respond because Harry suddenly crowds me. There’s a fiery heat emanating from him towards Elliot. Maybe there was something between them, and the way they glare at each other, I don’t want to find out.

“Took you long enough,” I tell Harry. But the pub is so silent you can hear a pin drop. I look around and everyone is staring at us, this must be one of those places where everyone knew everyone else. And the vibes were telling me these two must have a history.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks. “Why are you here?”

“Um, you invited me? The letter?”

“What letter,” he finally tears his eyes from Elliot and he looks fierce. My stomach drops and my eyes sting. I was such an idiot, of course he didn’t send it. Why was I so obsessed with the idea that I could mean something to this man I just met. Why was I acting like a hormonal teenager about this!?

“I got a letter to be here at 10:30...I just thought it was you I-“

“It was me,” Elliot interrupts. I look to him, his face is a breath of fresh air compared to Harry’s fiery storm.

“How did you know where I lived?” I ask but it doesn’t matter because Harry’s put his body between Elliot and I.

“You stay out of this. Leave her alone.” Harry’s words are threatening.

“She’s not yours,” Elliot says lazily. “She came of her own free will.”

“Free will? She came on an invite. By you.”

“An invite is just that. Her choice.”

“Stay away toadstool, if you touch a single-“

“Hey!” I use my hands to pry them apart. “I’m sitting right here! And I don’t need a knight in shining bloody armour. You,” I turn to Harry. “Don’t need to worry about me. It’s not like you want me. Elliot invited me out, I’m here for him. Not you.”

If I thought it was silent before, it was void of even a breath now. Harry looks like steam could be coming out of him and just like a switch, he backs away and straightens out. His face falls into neutral as he nods.

“As you wish.” He turns, with a last cold look at Elliot, he walks out. Everyone watches him go and as soon as he does there’s a burst of excited chatter.

“What was that about,” I turn to Elliot.

“The past.” He says vaguely before ordering me a second drink. I didn’t even realise I stress drank the first one.

The bartender eyes me as he hands me over the drink.

“Thanks,” I slide it closer to me.

“Remember what I said,” he mumbles as he glances at Elliot and walks away. Did everyone have something against Elliot? But when I look at him he looks too sweet to have ever done something bad enough to hold a grudge. Everything but his eyes, there’s an icy glint to them that wasn’t there before Harry interrupted. The past must be something formidable.

“Let’s go to my table,” Elliot gestures to where he was sitting yesterday. I follow with mixed feelings. Eventually, I decide I was just here for fun. It wasn’t that serious.

***

Dawn creeps on the horizon, and I’m surprised to see it as Elliot helps me into my coat.

“How has it been hours?” I ask as I slip my hands in. “We’ve been talking for so long!”

“I guess so,” Elliot lets go of the jacket and I untuck my hair from underneath. Tonight was...so different than any I’ve ever had. Elliot and I had just talked all night, I barely remember about what. He was funny too. And The Good Folk stayed open with people in and out all night. “It was nice to get to know you.”

“This place is busy as ever, does it ever close?” I glance at the patrons. Some of them don’t even hide their open stare. I was starting to get used to it.

“Closes at sunrise.” Elliot stares.

“Sunrise? It must open late then. That’s an odd schedule.” I think about what Jer said. A place like this would be infamous in London, why had nobody heard of it?

“It’s open sunset to sunrise.”

“Interesting.” I follow Elliot out into the street. The sky is brightening, the midnight black turning into a deep sea blue.

“This is where we part ways Rose.” He says Rose like an enchantment, and my body wants to move closer but I stay where I am. He continues studying me the way he had been all night. I had been studying him too.

“It was really nice. Tonight.”

“I enjoyed myself. Despite the nuisance from early on.”

“Nuisance?” I ask. “Oh. Harry?”

“Harry,” his lip curls. The boyish sweetness bitters before washing away again. “Don’t mind him.”

“Oh I don’t. He helped me out in a pinch yesterday but otherwise I barely know him.”

“In a…pinch?”

“Yeah. It was pretty bad but,” I shrug. “Anyway. I should get home. My friend might start to worry.”

“Of course Rose,” Elliot says. He eyes me for a moment. His brow tightens and he continues, “Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Maybe,” my heart picks up its pace. “We’ll see.”

His smile stretches his lips, he seemed amused.

With a nod he walks away and turns the corner. I stand there even after I’m unable to see him, and smile into my scarf. I just had an all nighter date with a cute guy who seemed interested in me.

When I tell Jer this he just scoffs.

“Be careful,” he reminds me. “Firstly I’ve never heard of this bar. Secondly how the fuck did this Elliot guy get your address? And thirdly, you don’t get involved with two guys with history. Trust me.”

“Jer,” I roll my eyes. “Okay. The address thing is weird, maybe I said it out loud when I was trying to get a ride home?”

“Still creepy! Hold on-“ he picks up his ringing phone and I wait.

Aside from the address thing, sure. It was a big weird. But Elliot did not give off creepy vibes. I just had to do some more digging if I was interested.

Was I interested? I think of Elliot’s amused blue eyes and blonde hair, his laugh, and the way he made most of the night about me. He didn’t try to kiss me or take me home. We just talked. It was nice.

My mind wanders to Harry. He had taken me home, taken care of everything. Was respectful. But he was kind of overprotective, and aloof. I didn’t care for that.

Elliot was open whereas Harry was hard to read-

“Are you even listening,” Jeremy snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Huh?” I look up and in the time I had gotten lost in my thoughts, Jeremy had changed into his parka and his boyfriend stands beside him ready to leave.

“Y/N get some rest. I’m worried about you. You can’t just go from one relationship—even if it was a dying one, and hop into a love triangle.”

“Love triangles are messy,” Bryce comments.

“I know! Promise me you’ll take a break. Process your last relationship before you jump into anything new?”

He was right. Of course he was. It had just been such a long time since I felt wanted that I was letting it fuck me up like I was a teen madly in love. I barely knew them. And I’d forgotten all about my cheating ex. On one hand it was good, but I couldn’t slide into anything new.

“Okay. Promise.”

“Good.” Jer sighs. “We’ll be out of your hair by tonight so don’t make me worry about you.”

“What? Why? You two stay the week like I promised!”

“No we need to head back north. He misses the countryside,” Jer points back to his partner.

“The cow shite can wait Bryce, please? Keep me company longer?!”

Jer hugs me against him. “We’ll do lunch today before we’re off okay? Get some sleep though.”

I’ve known Jeremy since I was 11 and he was 10. I had just been placed in a new foster home, the third one I’d been in since I was 6. Jeremy had arrived a month before me, he’d been in the system since he was 9. He had given me the downlow on who to avoid and who was nice, in return I’d stuck up for him when he was picked on. He was a tiny thing then, scrawny and wide-eyed. I had been weathered by the system and didn’t care who was nice and who you had to avoid. I learned after my first home you had to become the person to avoid, and then leave everyone else alone.

We were separated a few years later and found each other on the streets when I was 17 and he was 16. When I turned 18, saved enough money to rent a shitty flat with another girl, I let him crash with me until he could afford his own rent.

We always looked out for each other. He was one of 3 people I considered family. So when he gives me advice, I take it.

***

“No I’m telling you she works at Boots and she complimented my eyeliner.” Jer bangs the table. We’re sat at lunch, a couple day drinks in. “I was like bitch you spat on me when we were 12 and called me ten different kind of slurs!”

“Shut up!” I cover my mouth. “I need to see it for myself.”

“Tomorrow. Visit her. I wonder if she’ll recognize you.”

“Probably not. I look pretty different.” These days I dyed my hair a triage of browns and blondes and grew out of my baby face.

“True. She might compliment your hair.”

“She better not. She used to make fun of how frizzy it got-“

“Until you woke her up with scissors over her hair one night.”

“Shh,” I laugh. “Don’t say my crazy so publicly.”

“It’s not your crazy,” Jer grabs my hand. “It’s what kept you alive. Us.”

We grow quiet as the heavier bits of the memories sink in.

“It was tiring,” I slip my hand away. “Always being switched on. Even now, I can’t help it.”

“Until it comes to men. Then my good friend y/n goes poof and this stranger appears.”

I sigh, I had issues. “I can’t help being fucked up. It’s just like, when I sense they want me something inside me lights up. And I tell myself to calm down but all rational thought disappears!”

“Girl trust me I get it. Until I met Bryce, I was sharing beds with so many people.”

“I remember.” Back then it was me picking him up from random parts of town after being kicked out by a spouse home too early, or a partner back from out of town.

“What’s that bloke’s name? Harry was it? He didn’t want you-“

“Ouch! I know!”

“No not like that!” Jer says. “You seemed into him the first night you came back. Even though he wasn’t into you.”

“Yeah. Maybe just cuz he was nice. Why is finding love so hard? I feel like I’m not cut out for it!”

“You want a love that transcends everything because you read too much romance.”

“Stop being dramatic,” I roll my eyes. But it was true, romance novels were my vice. I couldn’t help but believe in true love.

The one thing I knew about my parents is that my mum died in childbirth and my dad died when I was 3 from heartbreak. He loved her more than he could love the sum of the two of them. He left me behind for her. That was true love.

I had a whole of 2 pictures from my life. One of my mum pregnant with me. Another of my mum and dad before they got pregnant I think. The way they looked at each other—I just want a slice of that. I always believed true love existed simply because I knew the story of my parents.

“Okay. Bryce is texting me nonstop let me see what he wants.” Jer leaves me at the table. I sigh and sip my wine, wishing I wasn’t such a hopeless romantic.

It was the part of me that always got hurt. Every other part I had learned to grow armour on but the part of me that yearned never learned how to.

My chest aches as I think about the love I don’t have. I feel it in the air around me as it quivers with something that feels akin to mourning.

“What are you doing?” I hear from the table next to me. There was a couple seated after us, Jer and I guessed they were colleagues. It was a game we liked to play—guessing the lives of people around us. We’d done it as long as we could remember.

The woman slides her hand up the man’s arm. He’s the one that asked the question. He doesn’t seem into it.

“Sorry,” Jer says, sitting back down just as the woman jerks back.

“I uh-“ she pushes her chair back. “Sorry I don’t know what-“

“Uh oh,” I look at Jer. “They just blurred some coworker lines.”

“No it’s okay. Mags wait-“ the guy manages to her back in her seat and they talk too low to hear.

“Juicy,” we eye them for a few seconds.

“Bryce is picking me up in 15, we need to start heading back otherwise we’ll be driving in traffic.”

“I wish you stayed the week.” I pout.

“Your 1.5 bedroom flat isn’t big enough for all of us. Call me when you finally get that promotion and buy a bigger flat.”

“You’ll be the first person I call. You know that.”

“I know that.” He smiles.

“When will you be in town next?”

“Not for a while unless my best friend decides to do something stupid.”

“I won’t,” I promise him. “Maybe I’ll come up to you in November.”

“Open invitation.” Jer reminds me.

I go home to an emptier flat, it makes me feel more lonely than I should. I never had a lot of people in my life, I’d grown accustomed to being alone. To loneliness.

But as an adult, the pangs dug in just as deep.

I soothe it by falling asleep early.

All I remember of my dreams are intense colours and emotions, vibrant landscapes and a looming sense of dread. I wake up drenched in sweat, the second time that week that my dreams were that intense. Maybe I should be visiting a doctor.

***

I feel like I’m wasting potential as I sit in my flat on a Friday night. I had been laying on my couch for the last two hours, first scrolling through my phone, then being jumpscared by a post from my ex, then zoning out to a movie, before going back on my phone.

The cycle is vicious. And all I can think of is Elliot. No. I couldn’t think of Elliot.

Maybe I should join one of those dating apps. Hopeless romantic looking for true love, but also dtf to fill the time.

God. I was miserable.

Something inside me is drawn to go back to the pub. To the patrons that loved to stare. To the pair of eyes I didn’t mind stared.

“Jer said no.” I say out loud. Well, he didn’t say no. Just not to do anything rash. To process my emotions. “Fine.”

I continue laying on my couch. Let my ex flit through my mind. I thought I loved him. I think I just liked the idea of him. After the initial lover phase, we were really in two different places all the time.

I sink deeper into the couch. Who have I loved? Have I ever lover anyone romantically?

I remember a guy I dated when I was 24. It lasted 8 months and 14 days. Jer had had to sleep on the couch for a week because the day I was broken up with I’d found my way to his flat, crashed on his bed, and stayed glued onto his mattress.

Until he had to physically carry me into a shower and spray me with water. But that’s another story.

He was the closes thing I felt to love. To loved. He moved to Mexico. I remember he told me it was wrong timing. I remember thinking I was cursed.

I sink further and further into the couch.

I was 28 and never really loved anyone. How pathetic was that?

Suddenly I can’t breathe. It feels like the couch was drowning me whole like quicksand.

Even pulling myself out feels like quicksand, I use all my strength to sit up and only then do my lungs inflate with a deep breath.

“Holy fuck.” I gasp.

What the fuck was that!?

I look back at my couch but it looks back the exact same. It felt like it was swallowing me moment earlier. What the fuck!

I had to get out of here.

That’s how I find myself at the local corner store buying junk, and browsing the crisps.

“Sweet tooth?”

“Huh?” I nearly jump at the sight of Elliot. “Wha-Elliot?”

“Rose.”

“What are you…are you stalking me?”

“Stalking?”

“What are you doing here?”

He tucks his hands in his pockets, that’s when I note how casual he was dressed. Slacks and a half-zip.

“I was at a party nearby,” his eyes flicker over the items in my hand.

“Weird coincidence.” He knew my address, I knew that.

“It might appear that way. What are you doing now?”

“Um…” I glance down at my hands. “Buying…stuff.”

“Want to join us? The party’s by the water.”

If it was a fake party he wouldn’t be inviting me. Unless he was going to take me to a second location to do something worse.

“I’m busy so…”

“Oh. My apologies.” He gets formal very quickly but his eyes crinkle with a smile, the blueish grey drawing me in. “I’ll let you get on.”

“Well,” he wasn’t pushy. Maybe I should see this party. See the people he hung out with. “Maybe I can drop by for a little bit? It’s nearby?”

“10 minute by walking.”

“I don’t need this then,” I pool my items onto a random shelf. “We can go when you want.”

He goes to the front with his items and at the last second I buy a pack of cigarettes. I tried to drop the habit many times but ever since I got back from my vacation I’d picked it up again. I tried not to blame my ex.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” Elliot eyes the pack as I slip them into my pocket.

“You’re telling me you’ve never smoked a cigarette in your life?”

“I have. It doesn’t taste very good.”

“I don’t think they’re supposed to taste good,” I can’t help but laugh.

“So what are they good for?” He asks and it’s so bizarre because he seemed genuinely curious about it.

“Um? Stress relief? Comfort?”

“Sounds like something a lover should offer.”

I nearly walk into traffic when he says it. So bluntly. Kind of like how Harry spoke. I wonder if they just grew up so rich they were from another world.

“Sure if you have one. Lovers are fleeting and temporary. Cigarettes—they’re permanent. Until I guess…you fuck your lungs up so much you become fleeting and temporary. Shit sorry.”

Elliot looks at me with confusion, like I was speaking an alien language. Maybe he didn’t get the joke. I dunno. I grow quiet instead.

“So what exactly is it you do?” I ask after a bout of silence. I can’t remember if he’s told me this in our conversation the other night.

“What do you mean I do?”

“Like in life? To earn money and all that?”

“In life? I lead.”

I glance up at him after the douchey answer. Oh he was serious.

“Cool so you’re like, upper management at your company or like you own the business?”

He cocks his head, “I manage my company yes. But I don’t own anything yet. I report to someone above me.”

“Right.” He was being very literal. And it sounded like nepotism. I didn’t want the headache of knowing what his company did so I don’t bother with more questions.

He leads me down a set of steps and to the canal. People sit along the grassy bank and I’m a bit surprised to see them.

“Elliot my man!” Someone shouts. “Did you bring the beer?”

Elliot holds up a hand holding two cases. I think back, I don’t remember him buying two. But I could have been too busy checking out his backside. I needed help.

“So Rose,” Elliot says after handing the drinks over. “I would like to see you again. Talk some more. Maybe come clean about all this.”

“All what?” I ask.

“The truth of your parents, how you came to The Good Folk-“

“My parents?” What did he know about my parents?

“Yes. You spoke about them the other night.”

“I did?” I blink to clear the cobwebs but I have a hard time recalling exactly what Elliot and I discussed. Mostly just that it was a nice time.

“Rose,” Elliot gets out in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are intense as they bore into me. “I’m not a threat. I was only curious.”

What a weird fucking thing to say.

I pull my cigarettes out. “I need a smoke.”

“Need?” He lets go of my shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Is it all consuming?”

“Sure?” I just needed to step away. There were too many people around for this not to be safe but I wanted space from Elliot. He was being weird.

“Understood.” He backs away. “I’ll wait until the need is satisfied.”

“Thanks?” I mutter. I step away and as soon as I do at least 3 women replace me and tug at him to join their group. His eyes linger on mine as he walks away with them and I look away.

I move further away from the group, closer to the underpass of a small bridge.

I take out a cigarette and place it in my mouth before I pat my pockets, and realize I had no lighter.

Shite.

I note a few people sitting around, a bright dot hovering around their faces. People had lighters. I could ask one of them.

But the more I look at everyone, the more I want to stay in the shadows. What was I doing here? Jer would kill me if he found out. Maybe I should text him. No, he’d freak out. Fuck!

I lean against the stone wall, pressing my lips against the cigarette still dangling in my mouth. The paper glides smoothly between my lips, the familiar smell of tobacco drifting up to my nose.

The air around me grows cooler and I close my eyes, tilting my head back. Trying to ground myself. The stone is uneven behind my head but it doesn’t matter. I feel cloaked in the dark, embraced by it. I feel safe.

I take a few deep breaths, the joint between my lips a prop for the time being.

As my body relaxes and my mind wanders, Harry’s face materializes before me; if I wasn’t so relaxed it might have scared me.

His green eyes search mine like they’d done before. He leans in closer, the darkness surrounding him. The only light comes from a smoke between his own lips. It throws shadows on his cheekbones, making him look like he was carved from marble.

We’re locked in a staring contest but it doesn’t feel weird. He’s part of the darkness, staring into his eyes keeps me grounded.

He leans down, closer to me. The orange tip of his cigarette touches mine and I can even feel the heat of it, smell the smoky air around us.

I inhale slowly, its an intimate gesture—him giving me light. My smoke catches fire and he leans away with a small smirk, away until the darkness swallows him and I’m alone again.

I take in a deep breath to sigh but smoke shoots down my throat.

I throw my eyes wide open as I cough. The cigarette goes flying out of my mouth and my eyes water.

“What the fuck?” I cough out uncontrollably.

My cigarette lies on the ground in front of me, dying embers on its tip.

What. I crouch down and it really is mine. How could that be?

I hold it to my lips and inhale. Exhale.

It was lit.

I whip my head around, was Harry here? Did I not imagine that?

But the closest person is making out with someone else on the other side of the bridge. No one had been here. Unless they’d lit it while I had my eyes closed and walked away.

A chill goes up my spine.

I had to go home. This was getting weird.

When I tell Elliot I was going to go home he’s flanked by half a dozen girls. They look at me with disdain but I ignore it. I was used to looks like that.

“You had your cigarette?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah. Oh. Sorry I didn’t offer one. Did you want-“

“That’s not my smoking preference,” he smiles and he’s the man in the pub again. Kind eyes and an infectious smile. “Meet me at the pub one of these nights Rose?”

“I can’t promise anything,” I play with the pack in my pocket, eager to leave.

“I don’t expect you to,” Elliot says seriously.

“Okay. Well. I’ll try to make it.”

“Great.”

I leave behind a weary smile and hitch it back home.

***

I wake up again drenched in sweat. This whole week I’d been having intense dreams, but all I remember when I wake up is how chaotic it was. The rest slips away like sand in the breeze. It’s frustrating because they feel similar, like I should be remembering what they’re saying.

“Have you been smoking pot?” Lydia asks. I’m back at work that Monday and I’m detailing to my friend who’s serving me my coffee.

Lydia and I met in uni when we were 19. Like all people, I’d been wary and guarded with her back then. But she’d been persistent and earned my trust somehow. We’d been best friends since. I’d watched her come up with and execute this idea of owning her own cafe all on her own. It was London’s top 5 book cafes. And even though it was out of my way I tried to come here most days for coffee.

“No, but it’s making me sleep so shitty.” I complain. “I wish I could just pop a nyquil and call it quits for the night.”

“I can hook you up with magnesium? It’s supposed to be superb.”

I grab my cup from her, “I’ll get super drunk tonight. Blackout for free.”

“Not alone,” she comes around the counter and hugs me. “You were mia this last week. I’m coming over with wine tonight and you catch me up on it.”

I sigh and agree. It would be a lot to cover.

The work day is lost in the bustle of catching up and meetings. By the time I see Lydia again I feel like someone could tip me over and I’d crash. But after putting on some face masks and pouring a generous helping of wine I settle in and tell her all about it.

“So mysterious,” she says when I’m done. Obviously I leave out the weird parts, like the pub moving physically and having my cig light up on its own because I’m not even entirely sure it happened. “The Harry guy seems like a gentleman. The other bloke seems a bit too coincidental to not be creepy.”

“But Harry was being so possessive.”

“Pink flag?” Lydia asks.

“Maybe. Jer said to stay away from it all. Honestly I need a man break? I think after my last relationship I just need to be alone again. I’ve been trying to fill the hole of loneliness with who I can date next. It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross,” she nudges me. “It’s human. Wanting connection.”

“Yeah,” I think on it. “I guess it is. Lord knows I didn’t get enough of it as a child.”

“There you go. We can’t help it. But maybe I agree with Jer? Lay off the relationships. Doesn’t mean you can’t do the horizontal mambo with whoever you want.”

“Dee!” I laugh. “Why do you have the worst names.”

She smirks behind her wine glass, probably considering it a win for making me laugh.

She stops herself early since she had to get back home and I carry the remains of the bottle to bed. Wine made me sleepy and just the same I knock out shortly after. And I don’t wake with a fright the next morning but as my dreams drift away I know they were crazy. This time I remember something about sticks. Random but I remember.

As I ride the tube to work I try to keep a reign on my hangover. I’d had plenty of water last night and popped some painkillers this morning yet my vision is blurry and everyone looks hazy around the edges.

I look to the woman sitting in front of me. She looked pleasant enough but there’s a ring of gray around her that bleeds into the pink of a little boy sitting next to her. His feet don’t quite hit the ground and they swish back and forth. It’s mesmerizing actually and I nearly miss my stop.

You’d think it gets better but the haziness stays the whole day. I should book an eye doctor too, I think somewhere in my brain. Whatever Lydia brought over last night was strong.

On Friday night Lydia invites me over to her place. She had a few friends over that was part of her couple group—her and partner Damon. And I hung out with them occasionally. With not much else to do I join them.

The week had been taxing and I’d had random bursts of feeling off throughout but I never got sick. Googling anything just told me I should rest, that I should expect a migraine after seeing these bursts of colours, that maybe I had a tumour. But nothing pans out.

“Ouch,” Damon says when he opens the door to me.

“That’s rude.” I shove the bottle I brought in his chest and move past him. I hear Lydia humming in her room and head straight to it.

“Something fucked up happened in the flat nex-“ She gasps when she sees me. “Y/N! Love are you alright!?”

“I’m fine—no I’m not. I think I’m going mad. Like proper mad.”

“No sit. Sit!” She pats her bed and kneels in front of me. “Damo can you get Y/N some water!?”

“Sorry. I wasn’t going to show. But I thought sitting in my flat would be worse-“

“Are you sick?” She lays a hand on my forehead. “Your temp’s alright.”

“I’m not sick! The doctor’s won’t prescribe me anything because I’m not anything! I’ve just had the shittiest sleep of my life the last week, I keep getting these weird migraine symptoms without the migraines, and I keep thinking I see something in the corner of my eye and I don’t! Nothing’s there!”

That was something that was new yesterday. Shapes moving around me but when I look everything is normal and still.

“Fuck!” Damon walks into the room just as the glass he’s holding breaks. “What the-“

“Nobody move!” Lydia screeches and I am so on edge I nearly scream at her to quiet down. “Damon what the actual fuck!?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t drop it it literally combusted in my hand.”

“You were probably squeezing it!” Dee accuses him.

“It was probably after getting one look at her,” Damon points to me. I flip him off and lay back onto the bed. I couldn’t even offer any help to pick up the glass.

I take a deep breath in, and out. In. And out.

I drift off, I imagine myself in the clouds, drifting through the air. I imagine a clean gust of air flowing into my lungs. And then out.

When I finally come back to reality Damo is emptying the glass into the bin and Lydia is dragging a wet rag across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I sit up. “I should help.”

“No.” Damon holds his hand up at the same time Lydia does. “Just go to sleep if you need it. Just don’t worry about this. Or the party. Seriously y/n.”

“Yeah,” Dee puts her hands on her hips. “We’re worried about you. Just take it easy.”

“I feel a bit better. I just needed a moment. Riding the tube had been sensory overload lately.”

“Stay in our guest bed tonight,” Dee offers, glancing at Damon who nods. “Change of scenery.”

As Lydia’s friends arrive I take my spot amongst them. I engage in light catching up, I wasn’t against socializing but tonight I mostly listen.

I try to ignore the way the room changes around the people who talk. Sometimes it feels comforting and orange and other times the temperature drops and it feels like everything is metallic. It sounded mental but that’s how it felt.

The more I drink the more the colours come back.

Lydia’s is like a sunset and as the night goes on it deepens. Damon’s is like Christmas lights, red bleeding into a deep green.

A few friends have similar colours, others complement each other’s. I wonder for a brief moment if anything I ate had pot but nobody says anything.

As the company loosens, I step outside for a smoke.

Halfway through one, I hear the door open behind me and close.

“Doing that again?”

I turn to the familiar face. Sean, I’d known him since final year at uni. We’d been casual friends but with him being Damon’s brother we interacted frequently enough it was more than casual with how much we knew about each other but we weren’t friends enough to ever hang out alone. He’s actually how Damon and Dee met.

“I’m gonna stop.”

“Like always.”

“If you followed me out here to judge me I’m good.”

“I didn’t. I just got here and I saw you alone outside.” He walks up next to me. He brings with him warmth and even though it’s not too cold outside I can’t help but savour it.

“You got here late.” I comment. “You want one?”

“I quit last year y/n.” He reminds me.

“So did I,” I say wryly. He cracks a smile, it’s toothy. The same smile he’s always had.

“One of my friends had a kid a few weeks ago. I was dropping some food off, ended up staying too long.”

“Wow. A kid huh?” I knew people my age—hell, people younger than me, were settled with children. I just couldn’t imagine it.

“Yeah.” He blows air out of his cheeks. “When he first told me he was pregnant I actually said What are you gonna do?!”

“Oh shit,” I look at him. “Was he upset?”

“He thought it was funny,” he glances back to me. “I forget we’re closer to 30 than 20 these days.”

“Tell me about it.”

Sean brushes his hair back, he tended to grow it out and then surprise everyone and shave it every so often. I wondered when the next surprise would be.

The longer I look at him the more his edges light up. It’s a deep blue, it blends into the night but when he steps back against the balcony doors it’s easier to see. It spreads outwards into a purple.

Sean glances back into the house and back to me.

“Are you thinking it’ll be those two next?”

“Huh?” I realize it looks like I was looking inside rather than around him. “Oh. Those two? Maybe not next but soon.”

“She keeps pushing the wedding date. Settling on one I mean.” Sean says. I raise my brow and he explains. “My brother told me. What’s up with that?”

A ripple of something flows through me. It aches a little. I step back to a chair and sit down.

I think about everything I knew about Lydia. I knew why. We all had childhood problems—her mum was trapped in her relationship with Dee’s dad and the Lydia I knew told me she would never sign a contract to keep a relationship. It had surprised the hell out of me when she said yes a couple years ago. But I guess she was now coming around to realizing she would have to give up the one thing she swore she’d never do.

“Damon probably knows about Dee’s parents,” I say. “Maybe tell him to jog his brain a little. Put the pieces together.”

Sean chokes out a laugh. “Okay. Whatever that means. Hey what about you? What happened to office guy?”

“That’s over,” I say.

“Shit. I’m gonna grab a drink first. Then I want to hear about it.”

“There’s nothing to…” Sean’s gone before he can hear me out. I sigh. I came out here to be alone.

I look out to the view, I would never get tired of this city. Its streets ran through me like my veins. I loved it here.

I can see the train going past and I think of the people on it. People with so many different colours.

I hear sniffling and look to the door but Sean’s still not back.

I turn to the divider behind me. It sounded like it was coming from there. I inch back and it’s distinct. Someone on the other side of this balcony was crying.

“Hello?” I call out. But they don’t respond. Oh god, what was neighbourly etiquette? Do i acknowledge it or ignore it?

Wait. I wasn’t even a neighbour here.

I walk to the edge and lean over so I can get a look into the balcony. I was right. A woman with cropped hair and a pantsuit on cries into her hand.

“Hey, sorry I don’t mean to intrude but-“

I gasp when she looks up at me. So does she. Her eyes are pools of black. Or it looks that way in the light. She swivels her head behind her but there’s nobody there. She looks back to me and points to herself.

“Yeah! You!” I laugh. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Are you safe?”

“I-“ she takes a step back. “Who-“

“I don’t live here. Sorry i know I’m being nosey,” I let her know. “I just heard you crying and-“

“I’m not okay,” the woman has a thick accent. It sound Baltic. “How do you see me?”

“Uhh,” I try to make sense of her question and answer, hoping I didn’t lose it in her translation. “You look sad. You’re crying obviously you’re sad I just-“

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

“What do you mean?”

“I stay here or I move on. I’m scared.”

“Oh. Move on like move out? Where are you moving?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know

“Well where are the people you love? Who love you?” I always imagined leaving this city, this country. Build a life far away. But every time it came back to being close to the few I loved or not. And every time I chose them.

“Here.” She sniffles. “In the end I wanted to stay.”

“If it matters to you, I’d vote stay. But I also don’t know your life so-“

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” I whip my head to the sound of my name. Sean closes the door behind him, two beers in hand, concern etched into his face.

“Are you…talking to someone?”

“Oh yeah,” I whisper. “The woman there seemed upset.”

I lean over again to apologize but she’s gone. Damnit.

“Nevermind. She left.”

“Are you fucking with me? There was a woman there?” Sean asks.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure she was alright.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear? About next door?”

“What?”

“The woman next door attempted…yknow. To end her life. But since we’re on the second floor it…she’s like, in the hospital now. On life support.”

“What?” My heart sinks. Lydia was saying something fucked up when I walked in. Is that what it was? “Maybe that was her sister crying? Or her lover?”

“No it’s empty. It’s got tape all over it until police clear it.”

My heart sinks even lower. I feel it like a lead weight. Who was the woman I was talking to?

“Anyway tell me about your tragedy,” Sean hands me a beer and I take it, my mind still reeling from the news.

“Um. It’s not really one. The relationship fizzled out.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Well what about you? Last Christmas I heard you were dating a hot goth?”

“Who said that? Damo?”

“Maybe? So?”

“No! I brought her to a party but it wasn’t serious. And she wasn’t a goth. Just wore all black jeez.”

I laugh and the colours on the edge of Sean melt into pink. It’s a pretty sight even if it’s just in my head.

“I haven’t been all that lucky in love,” Sean sighs. He glances back inside. “But I look at my brother and think if he can find it I can too.”

It makes me laugh. Sean and I have always teamed up to shit on Damo for no other reason than it was fun. I never had siblings growing up and the dynamic, I imagine, felt like one.

“Do you see kids in the future?” He asks out of nowhere.

“Woah. Um. I don’t know. I can’t imagine it honestly, with the childhood I had…”

Sean nods. “I think you’d actually understand exactly what a child would need. I think you’d be good raising a child.”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “I think I’m also going insane so right now it’s a no.”

He chuckles. “Was that part of your insane bit? Talking to a ghost next door?”

When he says the G word a shiver travels down my spine. I remember the stranger seemed surprised I was talking to her.

No. It couldn’t be. I didn’t even believe in ghosts. The police must have lifted the tape. It was her relative or something.

“I think I’m a little drunk.” I change the subject.

“How are you getting home?” Sean asks.

“Might crash here. I…I think I’m actually going inside now.”

“Oh-oh yeah okay,” Sean steps aside so I can walk past him. He was like a human furnace with how warm he was. I leave him outside and head straight to the guest room. I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t want to worry my friends or do something crazy. The woman next door freaked me out too much.

I grab my jacket and purse and sneak out, texting Lydia an apology once I start walking home.

I thought about taking the train but I couldn’t handle the people. If I walked for a half hour there was a bus that was 10 minutes to my flat.

So I walk in the quiet night, interrupted by the occasional car or group of friends. I spot a fox as I walk and keep to my side of the street. I watch the silhouettes of the trees move gently in the light breeze, I watch as squares of light flick on or off as its inhabitants live their lives. I feel apart of it and outside of it.

I’ve always viewed the world this. I always feel I was this way—apart of something bigger but also on the periphery. Maybe it was growing up in the foster system, or simply always wearing my armour in order to survive. All I ever wanted was people. People to call all my own. Where I was so deep into something bigger that I never questioned where I stood.

Nearly to the bus stop I hear a familiar tune in the air. My palms go clammy as I follow it. I know where I was going to end up. But I was in a completely different part of town. So it was actually impossible.

And there it is. The Good Folk.

What the fuck was this sorcery.

The cherry on top: standing outside arguing with a woman was Harry.

My feet lead me without a single thought in my head.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 15 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 3268

————————————

Act II, Chapter 3 - The Rescue

Being within the soft silver glow of Isobel’s shield, the party felt less of a need to keep watch, but Astarion still stayed awake out of habit, only needing four hours of trancing to feel refreshed. So it was in the pre-dawn hours that you found him in front of his tent, reading a book.

“Awake so early?” he asked as you passed his tent.

“Old habits,” you mused.

He only gave a small “hmm” and continued to read as you walked away.

You were heading towards the cave behind the waterfall, notebook in hand. It had been so long since you had practiced aloud, and you were scared you would forget the songs that your mother had taught you. The old songs, the ones that she said were special, were part of her lineage.

We come from the eladrin, not the ones from Toril, but from the Feywild. Long ago, an eladrin came to this plane and stayed a while, and had a child. So our lineage continues to this day, fey blood in our veins.

You took a deep breath.

And sang.

You weren’t sure how long you sang this song or how many times you repeated it, but when you finally stopped, you still felt the same as before, just with a sore throat.

Mother said this song could bring out the fey in my blood. But nothing ever happens, no matter how many times I sing it. Maybe I don't have enough power in me. 

Sighing heavily, you closed your notebook and left the cave. Your companions were already up and about, getting ready for the day.

And unfortunately, Volo had found them first.

Shit.

“If I could just get a few quotes about your adventures—”

“Not interested,” Lae’zel snarled. “Be gone. We have enemies to kill.”

“Ah, but only a sentence or two—”

You gently took Volo by the elbow and guided him towards the pathway away from camp. “I’ll regale you with some of their adventures back at the inn. I need to help them get ready, and then I’ll join you there.”

He brightened. “Oh, that sounds lovely, I will see you soon!” 

As he jauntily headed away from your camp, you heaved a sigh of relief. Turning to the party, you noticed that they also looked relieved to see him gone.

“We owe you,” Wyll said with a grin.

You gave him a small salute. “Just doing my duty to protect the camp,” you said with mock seriousness, earning you a few chuckles.

You walked with the others to the bridge, and wished them well as they left the safety of the shield. Watching them disappear from sight, you silently wished for their safe return.

Then you turned to the inn.

Sigh. Guess I better face my own battle.

***

An hour felt like an eternity with Volo asking question after question. It felt more like an interrogation rather than an interview. As you finished answering yet another follow-up question, you peeked at his writing. He was clearly embellishing and exaggerating nearly everything you said.

“That’s not what I said,” you finally pointed out.

“I’m punching it up a bit, making it sound more exciting to the average reader,” he explained. “You have to make them cling to your every word!”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Eventually you caught the eye of Alfira, who came up to you and asked for your assistance in the kitchen. Excusing yourself, you followed her until the two of you were safely out of earshot.

“You looked like you needed an escape route,” she said with a knowing smile.

“I did, thank you so much.” You looked around. “I guess I’d better actually do something in here, so it’s not too obvious that I ran away from him.”

She giggled. “Well, we could use your help preparing the midday meal.”

As the two of you chopped ingredients and cooked, she shared some stories of her past.

“I’d love to hear one of your songs,” you said after she mentioned how she had met the others.

Alfira looked at the pile of peeled and chopped potatoes. “Well, I think we’ve prepared enough for now. Let’s go out back, I can sing for you there.”

She grabbed her lute and the two of you went out the back door to the shoreline behind the inn. Strumming the lute a few times to tune it, she began to sing.

It was a beautiful song, and her voice was soft and warm, wrapping around your heart and making you feel every note like a gentle caress. Unable to stop yourself, you began to sing with her.

Without missing a beat, she harmonized with you, and together, the song grew stronger. You created a verse in response to hers, and though she looked a bit surprised, she smiled and let you sing. Before long, your song began to gather an audience.

When the two of you ended the song with the last few notes sung as a complement to the other, applause suddenly burst out around you.

Unused to the attention, you froze up. Beside you, Alfira bowed gracefully and you quickly followed suit, your movements a bit stiff. She turned to you as the crowd dispersed. “I didn’t know you could sing so well.”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it often in front of others,” you replied. At least, not if I can help it.

“Well, could’ve fooled me. You’re a natural. I can’t believe you came up with that verse so quickly.”

“Just felt… inspired, I suppose.” You smiled. “Thank you for sharing your song with me. It was brilliant.”

She smiled back, and together the two of you walked back into the inn to finish preparing lunch.

***

It was very late. You had taken an afternoon nap so you could stay awake to watch for the group, but even so, you were starting to feel sleepy. And yet you continued to stare at the pathway, willing them to come back safe.

They’re on a rescue mission. In enemy territory. There’s a very high chance something has happened.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about that. Getting up, you cast the hot water rune under the waterfall, and then decided to distract yourself by practicing your old songs and dances.

A few hours passed in this way until you felt exhaustion sink into your bones and drag you down to your bedroll. And still, you stared at the pathway, laying on your side, unable to sleep, anxiety gnawing at the periphery of your mind.

Finally, amidst the soft rustling of the trees around the campsite, you closed your eyes.

It’ll just be for a moment.

***

Memories this far back were more like impressions, feelings, colors splashed onto a snow white canvas.

Your mother, the color of warmth, of autumn, of the sun.

Your father, the color of the earth, of summer, of the sky.

They were happy together, always smiling at one another. And they always smiled at you, as if you were their shining star. They would always love you. They would always be there for you.

Until they weren’t.

The village was peaceful, quiet, tucked away in the mountains just south of the Spine of the World. Far from the chaos of the cities, where devil-worshiping cultists summoned infernal creatures to take over the continent.

And yet, somehow, these far-reaching plots and conspiracies touched even your miniscule spot in the world.

Somehow, the snow white canvas you loved so much became drenched with red.

But before the crimson stained your life, it was full of songs, of dance, to celebrate the change of the seasons.

You always thought your mother looked the most luminous during the harvest season. Her cheer was infectious, spreading throughout your small village. Everyone knew her. Everyone loved her.

Of all the people that died that day, you missed her most of all.

***

The soft chime of the alarm bells woke you. Pushing yourself up with some effort, you saw your companions returning, looking fatigued and covered in grime and blood. 

“If you’re famished, there’s some snacks near the campfire,” you told them. You had set up a platter of nuts, dried fruit, and meat jerky before you went to sleep, just in case. “I’ll go renew the hot water rune,” you added before heading off to the waterfall.

You could hear someone languidly following you. You expected Gale, who enjoyed observing your magic. Perhaps he wanted to make his umpteenth attempt to guess where it came from.

Instead, you were surprised to glance behind you and see white hair stained with blood.

“Are you alright?” you asked, turning towards Astarion.

“I’m fine, go on,” he said, waving his hand at you dismissively. “I need a shower.”

I would too, with all of that blood. Stepping into the water and casting the rune as quickly as you could, you realized the water was going to be hotter than usual. Shit, I sang the song too fast.

You tentatively stuck your hand into the heated shower to check. You quickly pulled your hand out and stepped back, only for your back to slam into Astarion. You turned and, looking past his bare shoulder, realized all of his clothes were on the shore.

Is he…? Oh. I should not have looked down. Immediately focusing your gaze to his face, you blurted out, “The water is too hot.”

He raised an eyebrow, then walked past you. Before you could stop him, he stepped into the hot water and sighed happily.

“Perfect.”

“R-really?”

He turned his head toward you. “Yes, darling. A few of us think the rune is never quite hot enough.”

You gawked. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Astarion shrugged. “They probably didn’t know it could be changed. And it felt good regardless.”

You made a mental note to tell the others that you could adapt the temperature. You also realized that Astarion was still showering in front of you as if you weren’t there. Quickly turning around, you stiffly marched back to camp.

“Not even a goodbye?”

You waved back to him without turning around. That view is going to haunt me now.

Back at camp, some of them were snacking while others had broken into one of the wine bottles and were drinking casually. You asked what had happened, and quickly you learned that because of the worm in their heads, they could easily pass through the towers. After they were interrogated and then tasked with finding the whereabouts of Bal-something, they were left alone. Unsupervised, they were able to track down the tieflings and gnomes and escaped via an underground dock. 

“Wow,” was all you could say. No wonder it took them so long to get back.

Astarion returned from his shower, which reminded you of the temperature. “Right, so, just in case any of you prefer hotter water, just ask me to adjust the rune next time. It’s a bit hotter this time since I rushed the song, but hopefully it’s still suitable.”

Gale immediately turned towards you, academic interest brightening his expression. “So the speed of your song dictates temperature?”

You shrugged. “To some degree. Pun not intended.” Gesturing towards their tents, you continued. “I adjusted all of your tents to your comfort level as well, after talking to each of you.” You stared at Gale with a grin. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.”

Gale opened his mouth, gave you a look, then scratched his chin. “I thought mine was fine.”

Interesting, I saw you sneak into Shadowheart’s tent. Perhaps you were too distracted to notice that her tent has a higher temperature than yours. But I won’t say anything. You snickered to yourself.

Gale raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing.

One by one, everyone took their turns in the shower and headed off to their tents, until finally, it was just you and Astarion, sitting side by side, staring into the dying embers of the campfire.

“You aren’t going to trance yet?”

“Not yet. I… I need to process something that happened tonight.”

You recalled that he had just stripped and gotten into the shower while you were still there, as if he was desperate to get clean. Your hackles raised. “Did someone try to hurt you?”

He let out a small huff of laughter. “Someone is always trying to hurt us, darling.”

“I don’t mean in battle.”

He was quiet for a little while before he spoke again. “There… was a blood merchant. She wanted me to bite her in exchange for a potion, but…” He looked sick for a moment. “Her blood smelled foul, rank. And the way she leered at me… I can’t get it out of my head.”

You remained quiet, letting him continue.

“But the others… they didn’t force me. Gale asked me if I wanted to, and when I told him I didn’t, all he said was, ‘then don’t.’ Like it was that simple.”

You nodded. You were glad that everyone was growing closer together, and could trust each other.

“I’m… grateful… that they told me it was my choice,” he said quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve had to make these decisions for myself. I won’t lie”—he looked away for a moment—“it’s a daunting prospect.” He looked down, his expression darkening slightly. “If they had told me to bite her… I would have just gone along with it. A moment of disgust to force myself through, and then I could have carried on, just like before.”

You frowned. “One potion isn’t worth it.”

“Then what is? Two potions? A moment of unpleasantry doesn’t matter if there’s a fine reward, right?”

“Not if it means giving up something you don’t want to give,” you replied. 

“But we could have used that potion,” he argued. “Perhaps I should have just gritted my teeth as always and let her”—his voice caught, his expression pained—“have me, for a bit.”

“Absolutely not!” You turned your entire body to face him. “You’re not some object to be passed around.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes widened with momentary surprise before he looked back at the fire. “You’re right. I’m more than that. More than a thing to be used.” 

You watched him as memories seemed to play across his vision. He let out a huff. “Being forced to lure pretty things back to my master, what I wanted be damned, was my entire existence for two hundred years.” He frowned and took a breath. “I had nothing at all for so long. Not even my body.”

He turned back to you once more. “Today made me realize that I never stopped thinking like I was still his slave, even in freedom.”

You reached out with the intention of hugging him, but you pulled back. You didn’t want to force anything on him, not now. You put your hand back in your lap. “I’m glad you’ve realized that,” you told him. “Whatever happens, whatever is asked of you, you can always say no. I’ll never judge you for it.”

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said, the sincerity in his tone marking your heart. “You can too, you know.”

You looked at him in confusion.

Astarion smiled. “You can say no to me as well. You don’t have to feed me every night.” He gently brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You’ve looked more tired since we’ve come here.”

Your eyes widened. Ah, so he’s noticed.

“I can go for a while without a meal. I’m not so weak that I can’t hold back until you’ve recovered.”

“And I’m not so weak that I can’t handle a bit of blood loss a few days in a row. I am a woman, after all.”

He chuckled. “Fair point.”

You looked back at the fire, letting the silence simmer over the flames as you digested the conversation. It was… a lot. Quite the catharsis and revelation for your poor vampire spawn.

Wait.

Looking back at Astarion, seeing his contemplative expression as he stared out into the distance, you wondered when your heart had claimed him as one of yours. 

You knew you had been staring at him for too long when he glanced back at you. He gave you a flirty smirk. “Admiring my beauty?”

“Just… just wondering if you wanted a hug,” you mumbled, feeling lame. “But not sure if you were comfortable with that,” you added sheepishly.

He sat up and smiled. “You are such a little sweetheart,” he said as he opened his arms. “Come here, darling.”

As you snuggled into his embrace, you felt something strange when your skin made contact with his.

…guilt…conflicted…

It was faint, but it was there. You honed in on it, even as your body was reveling in physical contact. 

Why does he feel this way? Godsdammit, nothing is ever simple with this man.

You pulled away, unable to get your head out of your own, well, head. “I think I’d better get some sleep now,” you said, stuffing your own thoughts deep down for later.

“Of course.” He stayed where he was for a moment, looking at you with a slightly pained expression before he got up and gave you a slight bow. “Sweet dreams, my dear.”

As he left for his tent, you crawled into your bedroll and tried not to ruminate on the reasons why he would feel guilty.

***

A trance for an elf was more a meditative state, a reverie to refresh the mind and body. So when Astarion went to lay down in his tent, he expected his subconscious to run through his usual mental training exercises.

Instead, his mind decided to replay the scene from this morning.

After seeing his sweet treat walk past him with a mission in her step, he waited a few moments before quietly getting up and following her. It took a moment for him to brave the running creek and peek into the cavern behind the curtain of water.

There, he could hear her sing a song in a language unknown, and yet it felt familiar. It had been decades, over a century even, since he had spoken Elvish with any regularity. And yet… even after so much time, he still understood that the witch was singing something similar, yet different somehow.

She read the lyrics from a worn notebook in her hands, her attention completely on her song and not on anything else. She has zero awareness, dammit. Astarion stayed and watched, keeping one ear out for anyone who may approach.

Not that he was guarding her or anything. He was just… listening.

The song ended, and he started to move away from the cave entrance, but then he heard her sing again from the beginning.

She’s going to sing herself hoarse.

Shrugging, he continued to walk away, but he paused when he heard her cough violently.

She’ll be fine.

Her song continued, her voice cracking in places.

Damn foolish witch. Why should I care?

But he did care. And he wasn’t happy about it.

Shaking his head of the memory, he turned over and tried to go back into reverie, but his thoughts turned to how delightfully sweet she looked when she asked him for a hug, how nice she felt in his arms. The conflicted feelings he had, both wanting her and not wanting her, stemmed from the same reason. A reason that was growing harder and harder to deny.

Godsdammit. This is going to be a long night.

-----------------------

Act II, Chapter 3 End notes: Oh dear, Astarion is starting to catch FEELINGS. Whatever will he do? As always, thanks for your continued interest in my little story, please let me know what you enjoyed by leaving a comment!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute

[levi-venn]

Cross and Tech and Omega and Egg

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final) Available also on AO3

When CT-9904, the clone that would one day become "Crosshair", was first pulled from his birthing tank, he did not cry.  

This was by design.

Engineered to become a “stealth soldier”, 04's vocal cords were shaped so that he could not raise his voice above a frustrated rasp. It was often muted by his incubator.

CT-9903, who would one day adopt the moniker "Tech", was also silent, but this was always a cause for concern. When 03 was quiet, he was most likely attempting his next escape. He had kicked the latch off his first incubator. He had poked the hinges off his second. By the third, Nala Se had nowhere to put the baby escape artist.

Putting 03 in 04's incubator was supposed to be a temporary solution.

A week later, when the new, reinforced incubator arrived, she picked up 03, and found his hand locked with 04's with an iron grip. 

CT-9903 cried. 

CT-9904 hissed.

And so, the ever patient Nala Se left 03 where he was there.  There were no more escape attempts after that.

One day, CT-9903 began to cry.

Nala Se was in the middle of calming 05 who was trying to wreck the changing table with tiny, but mighty fists.

"Omega, see to 03, please, he needs to be changed."

Omega slid off her stool and without looking up from her datapad she said. "It's 04 who needs changing."

"How do you know?" Nala Se asked.

"03 cries louder when 04 needs help."

***

Too bright. Too loud. Deafening silence. Sudden isolation. Stimuli deprived and overloaded. Nothing. Everything. Relentless. Overwhelming.

Even if Crosshair did have the capability to scream, he'd never give the science officers the satisfaction. Let them wonder the limits of his body and the sanity of his mind. 

He lost count of how many experiments they put him through, but one thing always remained the same: He gave them no data to work with.

Until today.

Omega didn't see him. The stormtroopers were moving her and Nala Se towards the lifts, and the glass chamber he was kept in was too far from the main hall, and there were too many other cells and test subjects between them. But there she was, shooting defiant looks at the troopers as they shoved her along.

It broke Crosshair in a way these scientists couldn't.

He tried to call out to her, but his throat was dry, his vocal chords ached, and his very DNA denied him. All he could do was let out a raspy growl.

The scientists took note of the sounds. It was the first reaction they had received from him. They congratulated themselves on their findings.

Omega disappeared into the elevator. She never looked back.

A science officer turned a dial. There was a lightning strike of agony. And Crosshair passed out.

***

It was dusk when Crosshair woke up in his cell. An obsidian eye gazed unblinkingly at him. Egg's caw was subdued. It usually was on lab days.

He shakily rose to the window with his plate to share his corn and bits of unidentifiable meat, when he saw something that wasn't there for him this morning: a travel biscuit.

Tech came by. Crosshair told him not to, but he still-

Suddenly, Tech popped up in the window. "You're back!"

Crosshair was mid-bite into the biscuit and choked, turning away to cough. "Tech, dank farrik!"

"A human cough,” Tech declared, “has the estimated speed of a hundred and sixty kilometers per hour. A wookiee cough averages two hundred kilometers an hour."

"I told you to stay away."

“You did,” Tech said simply, breaking his own biscuit in half to offer to Egg. “But I disregarded your request. Consider this revenge for ignoring my wish for solitude when my legs were being reset."

“You carry grudges that long?" Crosshair asked, his amusement outweighing his exhaustion. "I just wanted your dinner roll."

“I see…” Tech said, then reached into the cell to snatch the biscuit out of Crosshair’s, hand. He took a bite, then handed it back. “Now we’re even.”

"Tech…Omega is here,” Crosshair murmured.

Tech’s face fell for a fraction of a moment, before it gave way to an analytical frown. “How long has she been here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were they experimenting on her?”

“Not that I could see.”

Tech was quiet for a moment. “When our brothers-”

Crosshair slammed his hand against the bars. Egg ruffled his feathers and let out a craah of protest. “I swear on the kriffing stars if you finish that sentence I’ll-” he stopped himself, not because he physically couldn’t do anything, but because the devastation in Tech’s eyes obliterated the empty threat. "If they do come, let it be for her. Let me rot here. I made my choice. I deserve-.”

"Give me your hand." Tech said, evenly.

“What? Why?”

Tech removed his glove and slipped his bare hand through the bars. “Because you need it.”

Crosshair stared at the hand, his memories drifting to the first record-shattering storm on Kamino he had ever experienced.

“When will it be over?” Crosshair had snarled, curling around his cadet rifle on his bunk while the storm raged outside.

“By my calculations," Tech said, laying in the bunk below him, "another three hours and then the winds will carry it Southward.”

“I hate your calculationsss,” Crosshair hissed, pressing his cheek against the cool metal surface of the rifle barrel.

“You can’t hate calculations,” Tech said, climbing onto Crosshair’s bunk. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Crosshair said nothing, hiding his face in his pillow.

“Give me your hand.” Tech said, laying down on the other side of the rifle. 

Crosshair wanted to say no, but just then thunder shattered the sky outside as if trying to get into their room and pull them all into the sea. Crosshair’s hand shot out and clasped his brothers.

“The fear of thunder and lightning," Tech said, "is called Astraphobia. It isn't an irrational fear as an ocean storm is the most vast and dangerous sort of storm. We, however, are in a structure designed to withstand a storm twice this size,” Tech said. "It is safe." 

It is safe…

Crosshair looked at his brother's hand extended to him through the bars. Scarred and callused like his, familiar and different, but always safe.

“We aren’t leaving without you both," Tech said, his hand suspended patiently. "I’m not leaving without you. You have my word."

Crosshair clutched Tech's hand and Tech pulled him forward slightly, giving Crosshair's hand a sturdy jerk as if to shake loose any resistance to his words. "Do you trust me?" Tech asked.

Crosshair tried to summon a biting reply, something to chase away the comforting relief this simple contact created. 

Instead he pressed his head against the cell bars and squeezed Tech’s hand tightly. “I trust you.”

***

A week later, when Tech woke up, he didn't know the Marauder was coming to Weyland the following morning.

Even if he did know, it wouldn't have changed his plans for the day. Egg still would still screech in his face, urging him to get up. He still would make the trek back to the facility. 

The last few days Crosshair seemed to be in better spirits all things considered. Today was lab day, Tech was determined to make it back to Crosshair's window before then, travel biscuits stocked on the window sill, hand ready to hold.

Until then, Tech and Egg were on a mission.

There were other windows to look into. Tech had looked into most of them searching for his sister without success. Today, he was down to his last four windows.

The first two were empty, the last one had a pair of Devronian hands clutching the bars. The third, however, a tuft of blonde hair could be seen and little else, as if a very small humanoid was gazing up at the cloudy blue sky.

It was then that Tech executed his three-phase mission:

Phase One: Establish that he is alive and well.

Phase Two: Inform Omega that Crosshair is also in the facility. 

Phase Three: An ongoing phase. Tech would do his best to split his time between Crosshair and Omega. This may prove difficult, both in travel times…and the length of time away from his brother. 

Even now, Tech found himself wishing he was at Crosshair's window, waiting for him to return. Waiting to be reassured his brother had survived whatever the science officers put him through that day. But Omega may need him, too. He would do whatever he could for his siblings, with his limited resources of travel biscuits and various informational tidbits.

Phase one began similarly to how he presented himself to Crosshair: A neatly carved message on a piece of wood light enough for Egg to carry. 

Egg made himself comfortable on Tech's shoulder, sometimes watching with keen interest and other times preening Tech's unruly hair.

The message read [Tech Lives]. 

Seemed direct enough.

Egg flew up to the window and Tech could hear his sister's startled gasp followed by an inquisitive voice. "Oh hello! Are you a crow? Where'd you come from? What do you have there?"

Tech used to ask questions like this to every single person and animal he met. He wondered if they both received this inquisitiveness from Jango Fett or perhaps Omega picked this up from Tech.

Oddly enough, he hoped for the latter.

"What?" Omega exclaimed, evidently reading the message. "Who gave you this?"

Tech raised a finger. "That would be me."

The whole point of this gently revealed plot twist was to avoid any loud outburst that may rouse a guard.

It didn't work.

"Tech!!!" Omega shouted.

Tech grimaced, but he waved. "We should keep our voices at a reasonable volume."

"I knew you were alive! I knew it! I kept saying 'we never saw a body. He's still out there!"

Tech touched the side of his temple, missing his goggles immensely. "The 'No Body, No Death' Theory is not an exact science, Omega."

"It is for us," Omega said, stubbornly.

Tech smiled. "Are you alright?"

Omega shrugged. "They brought me here to push Nala Se into working on a project. I've been assisting her. Don't know exactly what we're doing yet, but it involves clone science and advanced genetic manipulation."

"It may or may not have something to do with whatever they are doing to Crosshair here."

"Crosshair is here?!" Omega bounced up and down, presumably on a bed. "Is he okay?"

"No."

Omega's pained expression made Tech wish he could have presented that answer gently. "But he will be," he added.

"Is this crow a friend of yours?" Omega asked, stroking Egg's chest feathers.

"More precisely Crosshair's friend. His name is Egg."

"Because he likes eggs?"

"Evidently."

"I've missed you, Tech." Omega hoisted herself up to get a better look at him. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm also glad you're well. My advice is continuing your work with Nala Se. Don't raise a ruckus and-"

"And our brothers will find us! Soon!" Omega said with far more confidence than Tech felt at this point.

"My thoughts exactly."

"There's something else you should know." Omega said, stroking Egg's feathered chest. "There's a scientist here. She's a clone, too…I don't think she was made on Kamino, though. She might have been born here."

"That's unsettling. Jango's genetic code has been depleted as far as I know. She would be a very distant relation to us."

"She's not one of us," Omega said, venomous. "If she was, she wouldn't be hurting our brother."

Tech wished he had his goggles, more importantly the camera attached to it. He could have provided Crosshair proof that his siblings care about him, indisputably.

"I'm inclined to agree."

"If Crosshair's not okay, Tech, you should go back to him."

"You don't need me to stay with you?" Tech asked.

"I'm with Nala Se. I'll be fine. Go back to Crosshair."

Tech nearly left immediately, but his concern for his sister lingered. "Are you sure, Omega?"

"He needs you," she said, with a knowing smile. "And you need him too. It's always been that way."

Tech frowned at the pointed statement…and frowned further at the truth of it. 

He didn't have time to ponder, he needed to get back to Crosshair. 

He needs me. My need to know he's alright is purely a coincidence. 

Tech climbed up to Crosshair's window, ducking out of sight just as the droids dumped his brother onto the metal floor of his cell. Tech wasn't prone to anger, his logic cooled his temper before it could boil, but he felt the light crunch in his hand before realizing he had crushed one of the travel biscuits in his trembling fist. 

He waited for the sound of marching droids to fade away, then he sat up and set the biscuit on the sill. Then he waited.

Egg cawed. Incessantly at first. Then mournfully. Then sat quietly and waited, too.

Dusk turned to night. 

Tech felt a knot in his gut as he gazed at the stars. There was a time when he and his brothers would lay out on the roof of Kaminoan science center, watching for the clouds to part just long enough to see stars. 

Tech would try to identify as many planets as he could before they disappeared again. 

Crosshair would make up planets to annoy Tech and they'd get into a slap fight. 

Wrecker insisted they were just dumb little lights. 

Hunter swore he'd visit every single planet before the war was done with him.

It wasn't so long ago, but it was several lifetimes ago. They were different. The galaxy was different. Tech knew it was useless to grieve for the past. Life is ever changing and evolving. He did wish he had spent more time cherishing those moments, however. 

They are over too quickly to quantify.

Egg flapped and let out a soft craah. 

"Tech…"

Tech's glove was already removed when he sat up, reaching into the cell to clutch Crosshair's hand. "I'm here."

"You're late," Crosshair sneered, tiredly. 

"So are you."

"Omega?"

"She's fine. They aren't hurting her. I believe she's leverage to press Nala Se into the Imperial service. She asked about you."

"Course she did," Crosshair said, dryly.

"Believe it or not, Crosshair, I'm not the only one who mourned your loss to the Empire."

Crosshair grunted in response. 

He fell quiet. His grip on Tech's hand was weakening. When he spoke again, his voice sounded hollow…distant… "I'm tired, Tech. I don't know how much more I can take."

Tech tightened his hold on Crosshair's hand. "Think of it as a sunk cost fallacy. You've come this far. You've endured this much. You might as well keep going until-"

Crosshair's hand slipped suddenly from his. 

"Crosshair?"

He heard Crosshair collapse on the bed. 

"Cross?!"

Tech pressed his face against the bars, but could only see a blurry darkness. 

Egg tapped the bars insistently, letting out a distressed chitter. 

Then they both fell quiet.

And listened.

Faintly…Tech heard a very light snore. 

Logic did nothing to soothe Tech's nerves at this moment. He was tired too. He was also hungry. Starving actually. Travel biscuits didn't have enough nutritional value for a full day's energy and he saved most of the biscuits for Crosshair.

They were both on borrowed time.

Tech leaned against the wall beside Crosshair's window, then slowly slumped over, curling up as best he could.

In addition to being uncomfortable sleeping on the concrete slab it was also dangerous to fall asleep on a high ledge. He didn't care. Tonight, just for tonight, he needed to be near his brother.

***

Crosshair awoke to what sounded like a sarcastic rooster mocking the morning sun.

It was Egg. Of course it was Egg. And it was most definitely sarcastic.

When Crosshair slowly rose from his cot, still sore from the previous days experiments, he didn't see Egg's scrutinizing gaze, however, he saw his tail feathers.

"Egg," he wheezed, holding his aching side as he struggled to stand on the cot. "What're you looking at?"

Tech was curled up on the ledge. His brother slept here all night. 

Crosshair didn't remember much when he came back to his cell, his mind foggy from the drugs and his body pushed to a limit he didn't expect. 

He must have passed out. And it must have scared the dank out of Tech.

He sighed and picked up the half eaten biscuit left on the sill. There were a few peck marks but it seemed Egg left most of it for him..He threw it at Tech, which bounced off his cheek.

Tech didn't move. Crosshair rolled his eyes. 

In their cadet days, Crosshair often had to  physically roll Tech off his bunk to get him up. Tech didn't just sleep, he'd pass out. There was no such thing as a steady sleep schedule for him and every few days his body would crash. 

Crosshair had been so wrapped up in his own situation it didn't occur to him that Tech was more alone than he. 

…and what else has he eaten besides travel biscuits? 

The droids had already dropped off his stale hash brown and eggs this morning. Crosshair took two bites, gave a little egg to his crow and set the rest aside for Tech to wake up. That would be their routine from now on, he decided. Crosshair could live on very little food, he'd give the rest to his brother. 

His brother who needed him.

Something distant in the cloudy sky caught Crosshair's gaze. At first he thought it was another crow, though he hadn't seen another since Egg showed up.

It wasn't a freighter either. Not an imperial one. And it was coming in at an odd, off-kilter angle, something Hunter often did when flying covertly under radar, though not nearly as gracefully as Tech.

Hunter…

"Tech!" Crosshair wheezed. "Tech, get up!"

Tech shot up, hair sticking up every which way, his cheek creased from laying on the rough ledge. "CT-9903 reporting for…duty…." 

He blinked and looked up at Crosshair. "What happened?"

Crosshair smirked. "G'morning, sunshine." He nodded to the horizon. "You were right."

Tech followed his gaze, shielding his eyes from the sun. "They found us?"

Crosshair couldn't stop smiling if he tried. It was a thin smile, almost a sneer, and it made his cheeks ache. It felt good. "You sound surprised."

Tech whipped his head back at Crosshair, squinting and smiling. "Not surprised, just…shocked…that it took so long."

"Uh huh…Hunter and Wrecker aren't exactly the brains of our operation. You and I were always the smarter ones."

"I would never say that."

"You always say that."

Tech adjusted his non-existent goggles. "Perhaps…occasionally." He stretched and winced. "I better go meet them and give them the intel."

Crosshair dryly. "I'll stay here and watch the place."

Tech smirked. "Rest. Eat. We'll be together again soon."

Crosshair's jaw tightened, trying to summon the pessimism that kept his sanity stable, but he was tired, and in pain, and full of kriffing hope.

"Fine," Crosshair said, quietly.

Tech started to leave, legs swung over the edge of the platform. He paused. "Cross…?"

Tech rarely called him that. Just as Crosshair rarely called him "Techie". The names were reserved only for the rare moments fear and rarer moments of sentimentality. The last time he was called Cross, Wrecker had blown himself up with his own damn grenade. 

When they left behind cadet training and dove head first into combat missions neither of them could afford childish fear or vulnerabilities. They left the nicknames behind with their childhoods.

"After you're free, Tech said, "we will drop you off wherever you want to go…" Tech's eyes seemed bigger even without the goggles magnifying them. "But I hope you stay with us."

Egg clicked indignantly at Tech.

"Egg, too?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course."

"I'll let Egg decide. He's the real brains of this operation."

"While I can't argue with that as he was the reason I found you, how do we know what he will-"

Egg flapped noisily with a shrill squawk and landed on top of Techs head, seating himself and screeching pointedly at Crosshair.

Tech grimaced, careful not to move. "Well….that seemed evident to me. Do you concur, Cross?"

"I concur…Techie," Crosshair smirked. "Now get me the hell out of here."

---

Thank you so much for reading. I’m grateful for the kind words, memes, and I loved the fanart of Egg!

If you enjoyed my writing, please consider checking out my book “Error: Detective Not Found (A Cake Pop Noir)”. You can find more info on it on my main tumblr account @blueberryhelper

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Happy bday to the girlflop/girlboss/girl ever. I wrote some a few days ago while I was at the doctors but I deleted them by accident so you get these instead. (Shout out to the whole four people who saw that post 🤧)

-doesnt see the point in celebrating/making it a big deal, she's only ever celebrated with her parents and *maybe* some relatives, and Ash never really liked going out, so it's just...always been a really small thing for her at home.

-embarrassing for her but she has a mild phobia of balloons because the sound is really painful for her when they pop, so they're forbidden at her birthday parties- (Aiden learned that the hard way-)

-her taste in cake is just chocolate...like not even any frosting or anything...she'll eat like 3-4 slices tho she tends to indulge herself a lot on sweets.

-(hugging my pillow) she likes comic books (kicking my feet in bed) she's not a big reader but she prefers comic books way more! As we all know she is a Spiderman Stan and we love her for that. It started when she was hiding in her parents closet (it was noisy outside) and found some old comics from like the 90s in the back...her parents were so stressed looking for her meanwhile she was just lying on her belly flipping through them, it helped her with the noise from outside :)

-Pizza > burgers. But she just likes cheese pizza with pepperoni thats all- her taste in food is kinda bland akdgksh

-she's actually like, mildly interested in makeup (as in a "Oh that looks nice" kind of way) but the texture feel on her face is so bad and she hates it so she can't have makeup on for like more than an hour because she'll ruin it lmao 🫠 She prefers to watch Taylor do hers. She's fine with Taylor painting her nails, but she starts peeling it as soon as it flakes.

-when she was little she absolutely refused to cut her hair because she despised anybody besides her parents touching it, as she got older she just kinda accepted like "well why would I cut it now". Tyler offering to cut it was a little weird for her, but she likes how he does it so she's fine with it. She trusts Ben to be careful and because she knows braiding it helps him relax, and Aiden...Aiden is...Aiden 😮‍💨

-Bad artist, finds it frustrating to draw. In that sense she admires Ben, Aiden, and Logan's artwork.

-stunningly average student except for athletics. Her grade in PE wasn't that high because she wouldn't team up or show enthusiasm, but it went up after she made friends and started grouping with them. (She did buddy back stretches with Aiden ONCE and he lifted her off her feet and since then she won't do it with him anymore-)

-is not enjoying puberty. She has a lot of joint pain from growing, and a sweating problem- her and Logan talk about deodorants. And her periods are like "sit in the shower and think about life" kind of bad (projecting a little)

-when she was little, before she started ballet, she liked to dance around the house when she was alone.

-Bad at responding to affection and compliments, her brain just kind of. Switches off. She's really pale so you can see her blush easily lol

-cuz its pride month have a queer hc <3. Having a crush makes her feel like she's dying, she hates it a lot (I mean Aidlyn but you can project it onto any ship~), it took her till she was an adult to realize she fell under the demi category (but she's not a big label person)

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 6: The Man of your Dreams

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 2k words, 6/?? chapters

Summary: You make your way toward Astarion, trying your best to prepare for the encounter to come.

A/N: Some context for this chapter -- if Tav starting dreaming for real when they were 18, had on average 3 dreams of that life a week, they had about 156 a year, so around 1716 dreams between ch 2 and 3. Another whooping 10,920 between ch 3 and ch 4. At 4 hrs per reverie, they dreamed about Astarion for 50,544 hours. I would be obsessed too, Tav.

Ao3 | [Ch5][Ch7] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

After leaving the druid’s settlement, you begin your trek back to Baldur’s Gate. Only a few more days and you will be on Astarion’s doorstep. I hope he hasn’t moved, you think. Or worse, moved on. You don’t want to think about what you might do if he’s moved on– either to another lover or to another plane– but you suppose you should prepare for those possibilities as well.

As you spend your time traveling, you plan for the important moment ahead. There’s not a lot of time left before you’re face-to-face with the man your past-self loved. The man that you might have come to care quite a bit about. Could you even love someone you’ve never met?

You shake the question away and focus: what will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? 

I suppose I should start with hello. Maybe follow it with my name. You think, briskly walking along the large dirt road back toward Baldur's Gate. Or maybe this is a good opportunity to be clever, refer back to your previous life. What did my past self say first? You start flipping through one of your earliest notebooks of documented dreams, to try to find the first one you’d had as the hero.

“‘Easily, stand back’?” you ask yourself aloud. What kind of first words were those? No, no, you can do better than that. What did they say next? You continue to skim as you walk and audibly groan. “I can’t headbutt him! What kind of first meeting was this?!” 

Surely you can do better than this. Maybe you can refer back to one of his favorite poems? Or perhaps a particularly interesting adventure the two of you went on. There must be something in your notes that will help you make just the right first impression on him. You just need to remember what your past self said to him, what they were like.

You spend the next few days of travel doing just that: brushing up on your past with Astarion from your notes. Before setting off, you had managed to trade a few rare spell scrolls for a Bag of Holding for this journey, to ensure that you would never be without your research or your documented reveries. Now seemed as good a time as any to refresh on your knowledge.

Hero’s Life - Entry 254: Tonight I dreamed of that mad vampire. Again. The entire time we were just sitting around a campfire. He hit on at least four of my companions present. I don’t understand why this is helpful. 

At the end of the night, he propositioned my past-self once again, and while they didn’t say no, they asked him, “Are you that desperate?” He replied, “Darling, we could die any day now, why not a little death before that?” (Note: I researched the innuendo. I still don’t understand why this is helpful.)

They didn’t end up sleeping together, but they did stare at each other for a long while. Not sure what to make of it, but the loud tiefling woman, Karlach, laughed and they both snapped out of it. She told them to, “Stop flirting or invite me next time!” Based on how these memories are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s my next dream…

You frown at the entry. Too early, you conclude, seeing the still somewhat-hostile nature of your relationship. I need something a bit later. 

Hero’s Life - Entry 599: The vampire seems to be a terrible influence. In tonight’s reverie, my past-self spent hours stealing things from people, and he seemed to be the guiding force. I can still hear his ridiculous little giggle. My past self said, “This is necessary to help us defeat the Absolute.” But based on how our heart was racing, I’m thinking ‘defeat the Absolute’ translates to ‘sleep with Astarion.’

Astarion seems to enjoy the fun though. He said, “Naturally. We’re only being the most diligent heroes, aren’t we?” Then my body giggled– I can’t tell if I enjoy these dreams or not anymore.

You laugh at that entry, shaking your head. It’s silly to you that now those shared giggles are fond memories, not annoyances. You continue to flip.

Hero’s Life - Entry 1356: Astarion was in tonight’s reverie. My past-self was talking to him about the scars on his back and he seemed hesitant to talk about them. Cazador did terrible things to him, I’m not sure if I should write it all down, but needless to say, it’s dark, demonic magic. I might not like the man much, but no one deserves that kind of treatment.

Note: Refer to Hero’s Life - Entry 1395 to learn more about the scars on his back. Refer to Hero’s Life - Entry 1307 to learn more about Cazador.

You gulp at that entry. For a while, you felt uncomfortable documenting what had happened to your companions, especially Astarion. After some time, you knew you needed to keep track, if only to understand the man better. Now you feel a bit guilty studying him, as if he were a subject on which you’re about to take a very important test, one where you can’t afford to fail.

Pushing the guilt down, you switch journals to find an entry past the events of Baldur’s Gate, wondering if perhaps you could recall anything more… loving, less of the struggles you dealt with.

Hero’s Life - Entry 3711: Tonight I was in the Under Dark, on our way to visit the vampire spawn. I haven’t seen the Under Dark in my memories in years (Note: see Hero’s Life - Entry 219 for most recent reference). It’s just as beautiful as I remember it being, lovely bioluminescence and so much amazing fauna. Astarion looked incredible in the glow of the Glowcaps and I’m glad my past-self told him as such. He appreciated the compliment, and I recall the warmth I felt when he said, “Keep lavishing me with praise and I can assure you we won’t be making it to the spawn today.” We shared such a lingering kiss that I can still feel on my lips.

We traveled for a few hours before reaching the vampire spawn settlement. I wish I could have stayed in the reverie longer to see how they are all faring. Before I lost the memory, Astarion said, “Gods below, this cannot be how they live.” I hope I get to see what he meant.

You smile at this memory. It’s a nice entry, but you’re suddenly struck by how sappy your entries became. No wonder my parents worried, you think.

Still, nothing stands out to you that might help– Maybe a “hello” really is the best you can do. Regardless, you suppose that studying will be helpful, so you continue to flip.

This goes on for many more entries, more journals and notes. After a few days of walking and reading, you find yourself back at Baldur’s Gate– a weirdly familiar city, one that you’d live in for much of your previous life, but, for now, just another stop on your journey. 

You take the night to rest, refresh, and reread the final entry in your notes on the Hero’s Life. 

Reading the dream you had just a few nights ago only serves to unnerve you. Your stomach squirms in displeasure at the idea that this was all a terrible, terrible idea. Again, you think to yourself, why did my past-self give up? They seemed so powerful, so incredibly competent, surely they could have made it out of there alive.

But there’s no use in speculating. You won’t get any closer to Astarion by spinning yourself in circles. Besides, you should get some rest ahead of the final stretch of your travels tomorrow. You lay down for your reverie, thoughts of finally meeting Astarion creating a pleasant, albeit anxious, buzz in your mind. Not long now, you think.

All that’s left is to make it there.

__

You’ve arrived. Or at least you think you’ve arrived. The druid’s marking seemed clear enough, but you’re surprised by how far out this trek was from the main road. It was at least an hour’s walk from the nearest inn, and nearly an entire day’s journey from Baldur’s Gate. It’s past sunset now as you catch your first glimpse of the house.

House is rather a misnomer– Mansion would make more sense. It’s a massive building, with rows and rows of curtained windows lining two large floors. Several steep staircases lead up a winding pathway to the entrance, framed on either side by well-manicured hedges. You’re struck by how carefully everything seems to be decorated: from delicate awnings to the many balconies’ balustrades. The style itself is ostentatious, a bit much for your taste, but you suspect it’s not nearly enough for Astarion’s taste from what you’ve seen of him. 

Again, you’re reminded of what Halsin said, “Many sought him out after that day, to try to warm his cold heart. I'm not certain if any succeeded.” Perhaps the decor was affected by a possible paramour. Your throat feels dry at the thought. 

But you’ve come too far and you’re far too determined to turn back now. Besides, if someone else answers the door and it’s clear you’re too late, you know how to graciously take a step back. You hope.

You walk up the stairs to the house, legs numb and heart pounding. This feels like the longest walk you’ve ever had the displeasure of taking, and you’re almost certain you haven’t taken a single breath the entire time. By the time you reach the top, you take a few hurried breaths, smooth out your robes, dust off your hair– generally, try to make yourself look more like the love of Astarion’s life and less like a weary traveler on weeks of poor rest.

It’s now or never.

A few solid knocks on the door, and you stand there, waiting. Your nerves seem to have nerves and you’re not sure how you’re managing to stay standing. Torn between bouncing into the sky and sprinting away at full speed, you twist your hands together in a small attempt to remain sane.

An excruciating number of seconds, maybe even minutes, later, you hear the door unlock. You hold your breath as the door opens and before you stands the man you’ve been dreaming of for nearly a century.

He looks the same as your memories. His perfectly curled silver hair, his elegant elven features, his striking red eyes– all of them feel so familiar and a warmth comes over you. He’s as beautiful as the day I met him, you think, only distantly recalling that it was not you who met him. But it is you to whom he's speaking now.

"Why hello," he says in a cheery tone and that same Baldurian lilt you've come to love. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The proverbial cat has your tongue, every excuse and introduction you'd considered is simply gone from your mind. All you can do is stare at him, savoring the way his lips are curled into a smile, wondering if his hair feels the same in real life as it did in your memories.

“Hello? Did you need something or are you just here to admire my face?” he asks, an annoyed eyebrow arching up, the perfect smile broken.

“You're the man from my dreams,” you say, before you can think better of it.

“That’s odd. Usually I'm the one with the cheesy lines,” he says with a wry look. It drops a second later, and he continues, deadpan, “Not interested.”

Before you can say anything more, the mansion’s large wooden door closes in your face.

[campoverlook-if]

Progress Update #4// 4/3/24

Hey everyone, just wanted to update you all on the story.

I've started a new process for the past few days where I write for two hours and then take fifteen-thirty minute breaks in between. I'm still blanking on what to write for a section sometimes, but I'm really trying not to have grayed out choices again. That was NOT fun.

Still, the writing process shouldn't be forced, but sometimes you just really need to kick your own ass and grab that text file by the ears. Plus, this is the most productive I've felt since getting my wisdom teeth removed.

In celebration of this new bout of inspiration, here's a sneak peek of an upcoming scene you may encounter in the update.

Alright, that's it. This girl can't just bully you away because she doesn't like you. You hadn't even done anything when she first started acting nasty towards you. Yes, you may have walked away in the middle of a conversation, but she had been so…aggressive. You weren't just going to stand there and take it, and you definitely weren't going to start now. So, you take a step closer to Claire, giving her a leveled glare of your own. "Last time I checked, this table doesn't belong to you." Tension quickly fills the air around the two of you. Claire doesn't respond to your retort, but she doesn't need to. Her body language gives you all the information you need to know.

Ooooh boi, what the hell did you do to make Claire this mad at you. And on the first day? Tragic.

Along with that we'll be getting into a few things before finally ending episode 1:

Reworked the gender system of the counselors. Now you can choose from the beginning how you want them to be.

Added the choice to be non-binary (a new batch of campers, hooyay!). Also need to add onto scenes with Asher, Claire, and Lucas.

Meeting the final two counselors (Ruby and Silas).

An added scene with E for returning MCs during your walk to the mess hall.

Going through orientation, including a fun scavenger hunt (Uncle Robert said it would be fun, don't believe him).

A small scene with your new roommates in your cabins.

I'm so excited just thinking about it, and I'm the one writing the dang story.

If you hadn't seen it yet, I answered an ask a little bit ago about doing visuals for the blog. I'm not the best at visual media (that's more my mother's thing) but I can use a character maker like a mf if I have too.

It was kinda nice, a little limiting, but it was surprisingly helpful for me to have it. I've thought about how these characters look for so long it's strange to suddenly see them brought to life in any type of way except text. The character bios have been updated with these pictures now.

(UPDATE: LITERALLY MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DECISION: SLEEP DEPRIVED AF BEHAVIOR)

So, I wrote this update yeaterday and was planning for it to just post through queue like I normally do, but the situation has changed. The demo will be updated again, however the stopping point is literally the same. The only major changes are the gender system, adding being non-binary, and having everything on one file (pray for me). The stopping point is still the same.

All in all the word count is now at this point: 57k (W/O Code), 14K (average). Not a huge jump average wise, but I'm happy anyway.

Link to demo here.

(END OF EMERGENCY UPDATE)

That's all I wanted to talk about for now, if you run into any bugs just let me know and I'll fix it lickity split.

See you all on the next update!

P.S. - I love it when new people follow and only like the posts of certain counselors. I know who you're into now ;).

[thefallenangelsgang]

The Avantris Fam Discord got this a few days early, but, in a burst of academic energy I haven't felt in weeks, I wrote a 2k word Literary Analysis on Marius from Edge of Midnight in 4 hours (complete with citations and sources)

What you are about to read is the culmination of an 18 day hyper fixation (I averaged more than a session* a day) (*each session being about 3 hours in length). It has only been slightly edited for better Tumblr consumption. It is legitimately almost 2k words. It starts VERY academic (as I get to flex my knowledge on an obscure Arthurian legend I love) and then immediately drops off in quality as I traverse some "dubious psycho-analysis" (my own words) and try to wrap up a half finished thoughts that should be thousands of words longer.

If you want to see my active descent into madness or the original google doc this was written in, join the discord (linked above!). I've got massive Legends of Avantris Brain Rot and will for a very long time I fear.

TW for Sexual Assault Themes (please tell me if my tw tags are not extensive enough)

CW for my insufferable academic attitude, literary analysis where no one wanted it, "dubious psycho-analysis", half finished thoughts, DnD, vampires, and my sailors mouth

Marius: An Analysis on Chivalry and Chastity

Break to save your dash

To get the literary shit out of the way, Marius’s seduction is a parallel of the Arthurian Legend “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” intentionally or not. I have a sneaking suspicion perhaps The Duchess scene is also based on the “Tale of Sir Galahad” bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail BUT that bit draws inspiration from Gawain’s story. So no matter which way you cut it, Marius is connected to Gawain to SOME degree.

Attempting to be brief, I’ll sum up Gawain as briefly as I, someone who loves this tale a ridiculous amount, can.

Gawain is King Arthur’s nephew, a knight of the round table, young, chivalrous, pious, but itching to prove himself. He loves the aging Arthur and Arthur loves him like a son but he feels restless in his station because he has not gone on a great quest like many of the other knights. 

Serendipitously, during the New Years celebrations a strange man enters Arthur’s great hall. He is green and carries a great axe in one hand and a bough of holly in his other. He challenges anyone in the room to hit him with the axe and he will return the blow in a year and a day. No one takes the man up on the challenge. Arthur is about to do it when Gawain takes his chance to prove himself. Thinking he can outsmart the Green Knight, Gawain cleaves the man’s head from his shoulders. Unexpectedly the Green Knight picks up his detached head, leaves the axe for Gawain as a trophy, and strides out of there with the reminder that he will return the blow in a year and a day. Gawain has effectively doomed himself.

Attempting to put off his fate, Gawain waits to seek the Green Knight until All Saints Day (November 1st). He is sent forth with all of the pomp and circumstance a Knight of the Round Table and favorite of King Arthur can get. He spends nearly two months seeking someone who knows of the Green Chapel where the Green Knight resides and is fruitless. Winter sets in and he begins to suffer exposure when he is greeted by a beautiful castle that seemingly appears out of nowhere. He meets the Lord of the Castle and the Lord's beautiful wife. In the spirit of Christmas the Lord challenges Gawain to a game. The Lord will be hunting the next three days, anything he catches is to be Gawain’s. In return Gawain is to give the Lord anything he receives during his stay.

Well what Gawain receives is a lot of unwanted attention from the Lord’s wife. She attempts to seduce the ever pious Knight. Gawain, minding his promise and his tenets, only allows her six kisses over the course of the three days. All of which he returns to the Lord. But seeing as she can’t sway him with the sins of the flesh, she tempts Gawain with magic. The same day she convinces Gawain to receive three kisses she offers him an enchanted sash that will keep him from harm. Gawain accepts this knowing it will save his life in the coming days. He breaks his promise to the Lord and does not divulge this gift.

Gawain keeps his appointment with the Green Knight who admonishes Gawain when he flinches at the first swing, holds back on his second, and finally drives home the third, only wounding Gawain slightly. Gawain now must confess his temptation to the Green Knight who tells him that it is not Gawain’s fault. This has all been a plan by Morgan le Fay to attempt to ruin Arthur. Gawain only fell to part of her plan and so it has been thwarted. He should learn from this stumble on his path. And learn he does.

Monty Python takes this tale and guts it for “the Tale of Sir Galahad” segment. Galahad is instead searching for the Grail when he stumbles upon a mystical castle with a grail shaped beacon. His temptress(es) are the “8 scores” of young women of Castle Anthrax. He too enters the castle sick from exposure and wounded and thwarts unwanted advances until he learns that the grail is not there. Before he can fall to his temptation Lancelot, Ector, and ironically Gawain rescue him from his “peril” judging it to be “too perilous” for him to face. (It is really important to note that the actual Sir Galahad in Arthurian Legend doesn’t have a story that even resembles this one. Galahad is supposed to be an emulation of good ol’ Jesus Christ and the perfect chivalric Knight. He literally ascends to heaven in his tale. The only reason Gawain’s Tale is used is because it is the perfect setting to test “Sir Galahad the Pure” as long as you fudge a few details.)

These are both humorous stories with happy endings. It is important that Marius’s story is not.

Marius is searching for the Grail much like Sir Galahad in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (a parallel Mikey brings up often by singing “Brave, Brave, Brave, Brave Sir Robin Marius”). 

Like both Gawain and Galahad his quest leads him on a lengthy adventure that causes him to suffer from exposure to the elements. A fate he is saved from by a mystical castle that appears out of nowhere. 

Much like Gawain and Galahad, this Castle is the home of a seductress. 

And all too much like Sir Gawain, the Lord of this Castle is away on a hunting expedition. 

But here is where Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, and Sir Marius’s stories diverge. Because Marius’s story partially is a story of sexual assault. 

We see in the ritual that Marius’s “head is filled with exhaustion, wine, and a strange perfume that feels almost magical in its enchantment” (Nikkie’s narration, 2:32:00, Chapter 17). There’s literally no other way to say this, Marius cannot consent to the acts about to take place in The Red Duchess’s bedchamber. He is too sick, too drunk, and, on top of it, literally charmed. 

His affliction is also another facet of this assault. While his transformation is not a direct result or part of the sex act, it follows quickly on the heels of it. Nikkie even notes Marius is still naked and that the shame of what has just happened is beginning to bubble up.

(Now this is where I get into the dubious psycho-analysis)

Perhaps attempting to swallow that shame, he accepts the Faux Grail and drinks from it, not questioning the appearance of the so-called Grail of Dawn. If he can just get through this night he can bring it back to Victor and all will be righted. He can live with the shame if it saves his kingdom. 

But that isn’t the Grail of Dawn he is drinking from and the woman who has just taken something irreplaceable from him is not just a beautiful woman looking for the comforts of the flesh on a cold, lonely winter’s night. And he is going through something so much more horrible than being assaulted like he has been.

And so he ends up back in the cold, irrevocably changed through no fault of his own, and he hates himself for it.

It’s heartbreakingly common that Sexual Assault survivors blame themselves for being assaulted. Marius’s conviction that he was at fault, that if only he was stronger, smarter, less feeble, he could have found a way to say no. He could have escaped her clutches. He wouldn’t be a Dhampir. He wouldn’t be haunted by her noxious perfume. He would still have his clear connection to Lathander. 

None of it is really his fault. The Duchess took advantage of him. There was truly nothing he could have done to change his fate that night.

At this point I am trying to articulate some of the things @middycat_ @zer09851 and @purpledinosaurdnd were talking about here https://discord.com/channels/223485292449890305/892828741900849182/1182483200505815153 

I think I want to jump into my High Inquisitor thoughts because they tie so closely with the novel I wrote above. This section is admittedly a little more scatterbrained. 

The High Inquisitor is a perfect example of both Marius’s self loathing and the way abusers seemingly can sniff out who has been abused before. From the second we meet her she singles Marius out. While yes, Marius is the most “normal” out of the EoM cast, Jericho is a MUCH easier target. He is touch starved and his sin is literally Envy. Jericho would have bent immediately at the first hints of affection and then she has an actual demon under her control. But Marius, though a tougher catch, is a much tastier meal so to say. (Not in that way you freaks /j) 

By answering to the High Inquisitor’s beckoning is how we end up with Marius as the Crimson Abbot. His self hatred would make him spiral and he’d turn to his Wrath to compensate. We’ve seen it before, especially recently when he thinks Lathander has abandoned him. He gives in because it's so much easier. She wants me? Fine. Let her have me in all of my broken glory. I’m too wrong to serve Lathander. Etc etc. 

Man, I wish I could string these thoughts together better.

AHA! This was the thought I had that I felt needed more context! 

@middycat_ brought up “hoping beyond hope that it’s not lathander’s choice to leave him”

I think the severed connection between him and Lathander is both a subconscious self-sabotage and a direct result of the ritual binding him to The Red Duchess. 

Most of the binding rituals I was pretty comfortable with. Lethica, Briggsy, Farryn, and somewhat Yorgrim were simply binding themselves to their gods/patrons. (I’m still not entirely sure what the Maiden of the Mists' whole deal is about but she seems mostly benevolent for now. Mr Crossroads didn’t really make Briggsy that way, he kinda was a bastard from the start. The zombification was a result of “fuck around and find out”). The ones I felt least comfortable with and that are reaping the most consequences are Jericho and Marius. Jericho’s character analysis is another similarly sized tome that will have to wait but he is having a harder and harder time keeping Virgil in check. Marius has bound himself to the woman that literally raped him. 

No wonder Lathander has found it hard to commune with him, The Duchess is practically breathing down his neck, whispering in his ear that he is not worthy of Lathander. He has been debased, ruined, made unloveable in the eyes of that god. And at least up until Chapter 22 he has been pushing back against that. Not any longer. He’s given in. As @middycat_ said “he’s a tired old man, a jaded old soldier who should have long since given up this fight to someone else.” 

I am afraid we are about to see the beginnings of the Crimson Abbot

And the only thing that can save Marius are his friends.

But I am also afraid they may not learn their lessons in time. Many of them tried to encourage him to fuck or made fun of him for not fucking the High Inquisitor when he was clearly triggered by something. 

Jericho will have to quash his envy. 

Briggsy and Farryn will have to admit they were wrong.

Lethica and Yorgrim will have to speak up.

Inaction hurts as much as action

And Marius needs all the help he can get.

[If you stuck this out A) you deserve awards and B) check out my other 2k word research essay on a niche topic: Why Ghouls Look Different Across the Fallout Games (Not because of Stylistic Differences) ]

This is fucking insane but here are the sources i used

Sir Gawain

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Gawain_and_the_Green_Knight https://www.yorku.ca/inpar/sggk_neilson.pdf (Translation PDF if you want to read the tale)

Sir Galahad

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galahad (for the one time i reference his actual arthurian legend)

Monty Python (I really can’t believe I cited this)

https://montycasinos.com/montypython/grailmm2.php.html (This is a script I was quoting from) https://montypython.fandom.com/wiki/Sir_Galahad (I was looking for other info on him in the movie but ended pulling the list of knights from this)

Pretty basic article on why victims blame themselves

https://www.throughthewoodstherapy.com/sexual-assault-survivors-blame/ (In case you want to do some light reading)

EoM Episodes

17 + 22 Definitely Anytime the High Inquisitor shows up

[firemandeanbuck]

The human eye can perceive 10 million colours on average. All thanks to the 3 colour rod cells in the eyes.

Camera was first introduced in the late 10th century. And ever since then, it has been simply improving.

Painting and many forms of art has been in practice since the first human civilization. There are many colours and ways to paint.

Morpheus and Hob are human, and are limited the way humans are. They need rest, they need sustenance interactions with others. And above all, they need muse and motivation for their work.

On a sleepy Sunday evening, the pair find themselves on the blue sofa in their shared living room. Utterly defeated and tired, scrolling through Netflix for a calm and quiet thing to watch. They decided on a document about jellyfishes.

The evening was gloomy, but nothing in the WORLD could bring them down. You see, Morpheus has JUST delivered the 80,000 pound full wall-length piece he had done. It took him 4 months to finish, working 13 hours a day with little to no break. It was a landscape for a client who wanted to have him paint a red poppy field where their grandmother and son are buried. The artist was genuinely touched by the commission so he strived to do his best. Throwing himself completely into it, hoping the client loves the landscape.

He is a full time artist, so he hadn't the need to worry about other everyday life stuff but at the moment, Morpheus desires nothing more than to sleep until the apocalypse and even a little after that.

As for Hob, he has submitted his collection of photographs labelled as "Humans", a series of over 100 pictures that shows people doing human things, from their jobs to their hobbies, to travelling to eating, to celebrating to mourning, to playing to eating, from their first breath to their last. The idea was simmering in Hob's mind ever since he became a professional photographer, but simply didn't have the sponsorship nor the resources. Till his old friend from university rang him up and told him she could support him. So he dedicated the collection to Joanne Constantine, who is at the moment checking his pictures that he had spent the last 27 hours awake to edit as she reduced the deadline from a week to the next day, by an order from higher ups.

They both were proud of their labour and hoped to enjoy its fruits other than the money. They hope the receiving party enjoys their work as much as they enjoyed creating it.

More often than not, Hob had to drag Morpheus to his bed and likewise. There were times where Morpheus had to take Hob out of the most random places he can think of, and back home. To their shared space of comfort and calmness.

Home. One of Hob's favourite topics. He thought of making a new personal collection for it. The word holds so much meaning and emotions for Hob, he wants to give it its justice. 

He already thought of where to start. It is from the person sitting next to him. The person to whom their penthouse belongs, to whom Hob's heart belongs.

Morpheus is not human, Hob was convinced ever since he did a Photoshop for him and his then-latest collection "Dreams and Nightmares", which went on to become his best work til date. Nothing about him is physically flawed. His face, his hands, his smooth skin, even his eyebrows. Don't get Hob started on his VOICE and his EYES.

Morpheus finds Hob interesting. The blue eyed man himself was sheltered and cut off from the world for most of his life, so when he met this vibrant person who looks like the sun is walking on earth, it was like his eyes were opened, truly, this time. Hob had dragged him around to eat street food, discreetly attended random university classes, go to protests unprepared, go to charity centres and volunteer personally in his free time, buy groceries and books every now and then, and interact with people on the tubes to make time pass.

The photographer had also showed him the simple, personal pleasures of life, such as the multi-layered flavours of food, enjoying the weather– a rainy day with a good book, a sunny day with a walk around the block– dancing around in the kitchen with lights off in middle of the night, baking cookies at 3 am, playing violin at crack of dawn, go to parks in the middle of a thunderstorm, making snowman, caring for sick or injured animals, making each other laugh til they feel like their ribs cracking, watch silly movies and reenact old plays.

They had also shared the worst there is to life. Hob lost his wife Elenor and his new born child Robyn unexpectedly. He took many long years to recover, drowning him in alcohol and misery. The session with Morpheus revived his old passion and he carried on.

Morpheus also had a long hard life, he was kidnapped for 2 years, no one knew where he was. Then when he got out, he met a deceivingly amazing woman named Tesslay, pretty soon, they got engaged. But when they were going to get married, she left him at the altar, never to look back or return. When Morpheus tried to contact her, she acted as though she didn't know him.

The artist had no idea he would find someone to be his rock ever again. The universe proved him wrong when it led him to Hob. He fell into a year-long depressive episode. His sister, Teulute, had to drag him out of it and encouraged him to work again.  Only this time, it must be for himself. 

Reluctantly agreeing, Morpheus worked on multimedia project. When it came time for the launch of his collection, he needed it to be BIG so that everyone knows that he is back and better than ever. He worked night and day for it. Hob was among the first to see it, he showered him openly with love and appreciation for his art.

His next work will be a birthday gift to Hob. He never gifted him a painting, despite being an artist. Ironically, Dream didn't know WHAT to paint when it comes to Hob. He knows what he likes and dislikes, but what he LOVES, is a difficult task. Hob loves everything A LOT.

Above all, Hob loves to see things from other people's eyes and to make them feel home.

Hm. Eyes and home. Such an interesting topic. Worth a painting. ESPECIALLY when it comes to Hob.

"Want some pie?" Hob calls from the kitchen, which is attached to the living hall. When did he go there?

"Yes, I would like some pie" Morpheus answers back back across the dark blue painted hall. 

He glances around the place. It's cozy and comfortable, nothing like the High end and minimalistic one he initially gifted to Tesslay. This one FELT home.

Home always was such an important place for Morpheus, for he always searched for it. The journey took him over 3 decades, until he found out that his photographer was homeless, so he offered him his apartment. Most of the things done to the place is thanks to Hob's touch. He made it feel so human. Hob gave him the gift of connecting with humanity when he needed it the most. 

The said man came back with half a pie and plates for them both. And a bottle of  Ice Wine Morpheus forgot he had around. The brunette man offered Morhpeus an easy smile and handed him the pie just the way he likes it; no crust, only middle parts, and poured him the burgundy wine. He added a generous amount of vodka in his glass.

As they were eating, Hob turned to Morpheus, "I was thinking, mate",

"Don't hurt your head, it never was your strongest suit", Morpheus teased,

"Look who's talking", Hob shot back, "As I was SAYING, I want to do a personal mini project", 

"I was thinking likewise, my friend",

Hob's eyes shone brighter than thousands of suns, "Yeah? What will it be about?"

"Can't tell JUST yet"

Hob groaned, "You're killing me, Morpheus", the pale man's heart DEFINITELY didn't skip a beat at the sound of his name.

"Tell me about yours", he said instead.

"It's about home", it was obvious that he was anxious about introducing the idea, given he drank a good 2 full glasses of wine and vodka. But he cannot hide it from his best friend. Not since he is the one who inspired it. 

Morpheus was taken back. Hob was also thinking of the same topic as himself. What do you call that? Coincidence? Fate?

"It's a wonderful idea. Where will you start from?" Can it be from here? With us?  remains dead on his tongue.

"I hadn't gone THAT far" Hob huffs, "I JUST thought about it", downing some more of his drink. Was he on his fourth or fifth glass?

Morpheus leaned back,"if you need help with it, please do tell me",

"Same with your thing. How long do you think it'll take?" 

"Perhaps 5 weeks",

"More time of you being shut off and me being out and about, huh?" Hob meant it light heartedly but it did mean they will see each other less and less. He didn't want to see the one person who provides so much comfort and consistency to him utterly shut out of the world. It reminds him of the early days he moved it. He barely saw him. He was always locked up in his room like he was punished.

“I hope not”, Morpheus replies carefully. He dearly treasures his friendship with Hob. It would hurt him greatly to push Hob away. Ever since the last time they had a row, Morpheus saw his mistakes and apologized, but not before being dramatic and storming out like he was in a Hispanic soap opera. Thing were better since then. Morpheus engages with work around the house.

Sipping on the cold wine silently, Morpheus smiled at the fruity and sweet taste of the wine. It's his favourite drink.

"I just didn't find the right SHADE of blue to start", Hob starts,

"I'm facing the same problem with brown. I need the richest, most layered brown possible",

"Same with blue, I want it to be animated, to have LIFE in it, you know what I mean?"

"I need my brown to be perfect, for the painting must be perfect. I only have ONE chance to get it right"

Hob sighed moodily, "Gods bless editing"

"Y'know. Whales are big", slurred a mildly drunk Hob. Such a sweet pink filled his cheeks. The alcohol blurred his vision and somehow his impossible earthy brown eyes.

"Indeed", Morpheus always enjoyed Hob being drunk. It always leads to interesting places, especially in social events and high society events. 

"NOW, you-you can't just be a whale. WHY!!" He said with the same gravity one would talk about losing something valuable to him. Like a real tragedy had occurred.

"To be fair, I would prefer a jellyfish to be. Just a bunch of neurons, no brain no care" Alcohol did lose his tongue as well. Though, not like Hob.

Then, Hob leaned onto Morpheus, his warm body half over his own. The look he gave him as he held his forearm could be considered dangerous if the man was sober. 

"WHALES are the best", 

"Jellyfishes", Morpheus said, stubborn as a bull.

"Whaaaaales", When the other man said nothing, Hob leaned his forehead on Morpheus' shoulder and gave out a little sigh of contentment.

"Life's 'ood", he breathed.

Morpheus was tense as a rock at this point. He rarely has anyone touch him like this. He is, by definition of existence, touch-starved, but he also DOESN'T like physical touch. Yeah, go make sense out of that. 

Hob is allowed to do a lot of things to Morpheus, he can insult him, make him do things he wouldn't normally do, call him names (affectionately, ofc), indulge him into social activities and all.

Just like every other time, Hob is allowed to touch him affectionately, caressing his arm with his firm grip. Electricity was felt under Morpheus' skin, he felt like going out and taking it out. The heat between them was unnatural, but a very welcomed distraction from the cold outside world.

When Hob started humming a very off-key intro of August, Morpheus knew it was time to go.

"Alright, let's put you to your bed", 

"Nooo", Hob groaned like a disgruntled cat, throwing his other arm on Morpheus' chest. The blue eyed man tried to budge him but to no avails

Seeing no other option, Morhpeus slid down to properly lay on the black sofa and let Hob get on top of him. Morpheus was sure that if Hob was a cat, he would purr so loudly, he would feel it in every bone of his body. Having his best friend over him like this certainly does NOT help the not so brotherly feelings brewing in Morpheus' heart and mind for quite a while.

He tried his best to bury his feelings, but to no use. Everytime Hob calls him dear, or love, or his many silly nicknames, Morpheus can't help but imagine hearing those words only for him alone, when he wakes up in the morning next to him.

"You smell nice", Hob muttered into Morpheus' ear, sending shivers down his spine  and interrupting his train of thought

"Hmm" Morpheus was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would say something foolish again.

"Like, like san'al an'-and villina an' citrus"

"That's quite a mix", commented the unimpressed artist.

Hob grins in return,"it's you, an' you're my home",

Morpheus' heart yet once more skips a beat. Did Hob just call him HOME? Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it's the subconscious. The idea terrified him but the words excited him. How did he long to be someone's home? Their safespace? Their shelter and support?

Reluctant, Morpheus ran his hand through Hob's hair, like he always wanted. It was softer than what he imagined it to be. Untangled and smooth, was Hob's hair, in contrast to his own unkempt and wild head.

Burying himself impossibly deeper into Morpheus, like he wants to fuse with him, Hob wrapped his arms around his thin waist and slept.

It was practically impossible for Morpheus not to sleep like this after he imagined to do it for YEARS at this point. 

The pain in his chest stopped cutting as deeply as if used to. His shoulders don't feel like he holds the weight Atlas does. The entirety of his body was relaxed. So was his mind. 

Wine also did its job in soothing his burning nerves.

For the first time in a long time, Morpheus slept like the god had finally blessed him with it.

[samooooo1]

based on my digimon master online game, how would be like a 24 year old fem! tamer who found in her doorstep a cardboard box with 4 digieggs (wizardmon, terriermon, (fem!) lopmon (she is terriermon's younger twin sister) and meicoomon) and when they hatch as lil keemon, zerimon, kokomon, and a fluffier looking snow botamon with faint light markings (that sign that she is a meicoomon when she grows and evolve to her actual form);

and the lil keemon is the one who loves y/n a lot compared to the other 3 who like her too; with a timeskip of 2 years later with him now as a wiz giving her a flower before confessing his feelings for her and gladly she accepts his feelings.

(Credit to the artist (Artist is mentioned down there on the right side))

(Sorry but I cant picture myself this scenario, as you would have been like a mother figure to them which is why I will do platonic version but no more or less, sorry since it probably would be heading a entirely diffrent way then you wanted but such scenarios are also platonic in my eyes.)

B/f x reader

Growing closer

_____________________

It was a cold nice day, finally after 8 painfully long hours of working, since you gotta make a living somehow, you took office job and after it was finally over and since it was over, first thing you done was to watch TV, there way to many TV Series that have to be finished by you and to little time to sadly do it. After watching a couple series for some hours, you heard a sound from the door you went there, thinking what or who would do such thing this late at the day.

You have gone to your door and opended it and found.. a cardboard with some eggs in it? You were weirded out having never seen such eggs.. and big at that to, you first thought these were Ostrich eggs.. so you tried to cook them but they were to hard and couldnt break which frustrated you.

Sooo, like any person with the average IQ of -5, you used Google to try and find out what these eggs were or better say from which animal or organism they came. To your suprise, they werent any ordinary eggs.. these eggs were called Digieggs and after some throughout research you found out what will come out of these eggs, some Digimons named Botamon, Kokomon, Zerimon and Keemon, they were fictional characters from your childhood Show 20 years ago, you used to watch it so much but sadly have forgotten most of these times.

So you made sure to take them with you everywhere, as to make sure that when they hatch you can see it in a instant. After some further hours of waiting they hatched ! You saw and felt like a Mum VvV, seeing their kids being born, you were very happy :D

Now the funny part.. you dont know what they eat, nor what they can eat or not, they arent any organic organism but you decided milk and some meat should be ok for now.

You searched up their names and what they could "evolve" into, or as people would say "digievolve" into. Now you got a Keemon, small and friendly but sometimes somehow angry, how? I dont know, a Botamon, a chaotic little energy ball, a Kokomon very cute choco looking like digimon and lastly Zerimon, weird but also cute.

Now there was another small problem, you never had to take care of any kids, much less since you were a only child and pretty much got always what you wanted, you never had to do anything. Now that you were a fully responsible adult and moved away from your parents and took a job to pay rent and your living expsenes, you didnt know if you were able to take care of these little Digimon.

Sooo, you called your bestfriend over, he was at first not believing a single word you have said but the moment he was in with you.. He was fascinated, such cute little creatures? But then he asked for what reason did you actually call him.

"So... hehe, basicly if I would this alone, there be to much for me to work off... and I dont wanna be a single mum, and since we both are already bestfriends why dont you help ne :D Also these little kids need a dad."

"Wait wait wait wait- a dad? But why me!"

You mentaly slapped yourself and just gave him a unfazed stare.

"Who is a man, is my closet friend, can weirdly be a good dad, can help me and is always there for me :D"

He just sighned and.. even though to us its obvious and you being a blind person ( in terms of reading the room), he has feelings for you and taking care of them with you.

"You will be the mother?"

You just nodded VvV. "Then... eh.. should I adress you as honey then, infront of the kids?" At that point you just stared at him. Would that title suit you?... Yes, yes it would.You happily nodded.

"So we be parents then? :D" you asked, he just embarrasedly nodded and you jumped in the air, feeling all happy and friendly, atleast you wont be having to deal all this alone, you have someone by your side during all of this.He just smilled at you, how could you be so blind to his feelings but because of you.. he be doing this, out of love for you.

2 Years Timeskip~

After some years parenting, both you and B/f have come far, your small little kids that you named happily, Botamon, you named him after your Uncle, his name was Kai, and little Botamon gave some Ninjago Kai vibes off, and he always watched that show as he grew up.Kokomon, you named them Choc, because of his chocolate coulered self and his affinity to liking sweets that are always sided with chocolate flavor.Zerimon was named Lemon, he is coloured like a Lemon and loves Citrus fruits, noice which is why the both you of named him Lemon and he is the exact opposites of his sister Zerimon.Keemon was the weirdest of the bunch, he was like a clingy dog which is why ya named him Max, he wouldnt leave neither your or B/f sides, always calling you both Mum and Dad, which at times made you chuckle and B/f a blushing mess, yet as they digivoled all into their respective forms you couldnt help but smile at them and B/f and even thought it might have seemed as if you were oblivious to B/fs feelings, you werent, you also liked him but wanted just to tease him so much it also made you realise how thankful you were that he was by your side, supporting and helping you no matter what or without any complaints, so one day when it was late and the kids were sleeping, you invited him to the livingroom since before you both have sleeped seperately but now you wanted to be more then just friends, you took him to the livingroom and confessed to him.

When he heard those words from you "I like you more then a simple friend".. he cried, he was happy beyond any thing that could be scaled, this one was one of the hapiest day of his life, and yes finally after so long you are finally his. He took you by arms and hugged you, its safe to say that you both went to bed after that confession but didnt did the deed as you both were faithful followers of the lord, you saved yourself for day you both will marry.

But the both of you pray and hope that the lord will bless you both with more such happy moments , the moment that the both of you will spend together, as lovers and one flesh, just as the lord always had planned for the both of you.

_____________________

Thanks for making a request but please, any kind of family bond should also be kept as one, but I hope you all enjoyed this small fic and wish ya all a blessed day/night.

God bless ya all!

;)