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hanaruri-tunes · 11 months

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Spoiling Belphie rotten (then Beel joins in because he can) Belphie x reader

⚠️MDNI⚠️

Hiii I'm back and here are the warnings (?): Degradation, praise, mommy kink, breast sucking, mention of lactation, breeding kink, yandere belphie, threesome, bj

Sorry if I forgot something, I'm still not used to tumblr's "smut culture" ajfhzhufude putting on those warnings feels more like I'm just tagging my smut. (But I guess that's ultimately the point?) Reader/MC is cisfemale in this one.

I still have no idea what I'm doing, in case you hadn't noticed. Hopefully I'm not making a fool of myself too bad aaaaaaa. Here goes.

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You were the only one who had the ability to wake Belphie up with ease. As soon as he heard your voice, his consciousness would spring back up. When you touched him, gently shaking him, his eyes would open on the spot. Although there was no magical or scientific explanation behind this, Belphie's brothers and even Belphie himself had now given you the task of waking him up everyday. Since you were the only one capable of such a feat.

But when it came to matters Belphegor wasn't interested in… he would give a hard time to you as well.

"Hnngh don't wannaa. If it's not for school what's the use?"

"Are you serious? Diavolo invited us for dinner, that's not something we get everyday. Also, we warned you not to sleep during the day today in order to avoid this exact scenario..."

"Hnnnghhhh."

Even YOU were at a loss on what to do now. Maybe you should really go without him… No. Lucifer had tasked you with this and you didn't want to disappoint.

"Come on, make just a little effort. If you do, I'll give you a reward after we come back."

Although you couldn't see it because Belphie was facing the wall, at that moment his eyes shot wide open. He took a moment to recollect his thoughts.

"Hmm… what kind of reward?"

Not really having anything particular in mind, you give him a standard answer. The kind that will inevitably become a big mistake later.

"Anything you want. You can decide- Oh but something that is in my power obviously aha."

You said that while sitting on the side of his bed. Belphie would always wonder how you could so casually just invade his space like this and not expect any retribution. A small smirk appeared on his face before he shifted sides and turned towards you, facing you.

"You're really oblivious and reckless, how cute."

He says with his cute little head laying on the pillow. Does he realize how painful it is for you to wake him up everyday when he looks so peaceful? So comfy in his bed that you sometimes get the urge to join him and go back to sleep.

"Wow, rude. Come on sleeping beauty, Lucifer will get mad if you don't hurry it up."

As expected, from there things go fairly smoothly. As soon as you all arrive at the castle, Barbatos takes you to the dining hall where Diavolo was waiting. He then shares some of the future projects he has in mind for the devildom hoping for the brothers' help as well as your own. You weren't really worried about what Belphie would ask you after you made it back home but the question did stay in the back of your mind throughout the entirety of the evening. Looking back, you really should've asked instead of brushing him off.

Well, wherever. Making your way back to the house of lamentation, all of you were carrying "leftovers" from the dinner but really, it was mostly just a gift for Beel. Diavolo knew how big of an eater he is and there's no way even a royal dinner would satiate this monster of a stomach he has. As you all left the food in the kitchen and let Beel devour it all, everyone started making their way back to their rooms. Everyone except Belphie.

"You're coming with me, right?"

"For?"

"The reward. Don't tell me you forgot?"

"Ah well, sure? I mean- I just didn't think that we necessarily needed to be in your room for you to ask something from me."

Belphie chuckles. Somehow it kind of gets on your nerves as you feel like he's mocking you. Well, no matter. Making your way up there, Belphie invites you to sit on his bed. Your back against the headboard.

"Um. Thank you?"

You feel your cheeks heating up. You always feel like you have to keep an "attitude" with him just as he does with you, but seeing how he has quite literally invited you into his bed, you're starting to have some *thoughts* you wish you weren't having right now. It wasn't like doing dirty things to him never crossed your mind but you weren't 100% sure if he ever had ideas like these as well. Unsure, you would never lay your hands on him more than necessary, worried that it might be too much too soon. Well, you were about to find out that this was never a concern of his.

He joins you, laying his back on your thighs.

"Could you cradle me Y/N?"

You blink.

"Uh, like, a baby?"

"Hmm not exactly. But I'll call you mommy if that's what you want."

You almost choke on your own spit.

"W-wha?? Did you really just say that?"

Annoyed, Belphie himself places your left hand over his shoulders while he's still laying down on you. He then places his head on your chest, rubbing against your breasts like a spoiled little brat.

"It's truly so cute how you're still trying to stay guarded and dignified in a moment like this. Do you really think I would invite just anyone into my bed?"

Your heart rate picks up at the insinuation and you're pretty sure Belphie can hear it.

"Ooohh~ So you do get it. Can you take your top off?"

This was the twins' room. Beel might be busy right now but once he's back… How would he react if he saw what the two of you were doing?

…

Ahhgh. Fuck it.

You take your top off and your bra, Belphie's face lights up with a shit-eating grin. The really thrilled kind that pisses you off for some reason.

"We've got a real pervert here. I only asked you to take your top off yet you went all the way. Oh nooo~, I unknowingly invited an indecent person into my bed, whatever shall I dooo~"

You flick his forehead.

"Shut it, you're the one who's… A-anyway, why am I the only one taking layers off? Shouldn't you do the same?"

Belphie snuggles against your bare chest, hugging you. Then he leaves a kiss on one of your pink tips.

"Well I'd like to unbuckle my pants but my hands are too busy holding you~ Please do it for me?"

Frustrated by how he's obviously babying himself up for you, and yet he still manages to look cute while being obvious, you follow his "suggestion" and unbuckle his pants. Revealing that he's already quite hard. Well at least that part of him isn't lying…

As you wrap your soft fingers around his length with your right hand, your left arm is still cradling him against your chest as he starts to kiss, lick and pull on your sweet spots. He smiles as he sees how pleased his touch makes you feel.

"Mommy~ why is your chest not dripping with milk? Is it broken?"

"G-God shut the fuck up…"

You try to keep your focus on your right hand, the one that is stroking and pumping him, desperately trying to make him feel as good as you feel right now. You don't want to be mocked for not being able to perform as well as he can. In fact, isn't this already what he's doing?

Noticing your worry, Belphie makes an effort to reach for your lips, kissing them lovingly.

"Calm down honey, you're too tense. I'll show you what makes me feel good."

Unwrapping one of his arms from you, he reaches out for your right hand, putting his hand around yours. As he does, you notice how much bigger his hand is compared to your small, soft hand. Yet he's supposed to be the youngest of his brothers.

Belphie still suckles on you, but in between his devious tongue doing god's work, he's also mumbling a bit as he guides your hand.

"No need to be hasty… I like it slow and gentle at the beginning… Just grip it more forcefully when I'll be close to cumming, I'll take care of the pace."

You keep doing this for a couple more minutes, from time to time you kiss him on the head or on the forehead to which he responds with a soft "mommy" against your breasts. You're starting to like being called like this. To return the favor you also call him baby a couple of times to which he responds with a long suckle on your breasts.

He's just so cute… The only problem is that you're starting to get unbearably wet.

"B-Baby?"

"Mh-hm?"

"Um, c-can we hurry it up? Sorry but I- ugh. I-I need some help down there unless you want me to stain your bed…"

Suddenly, Belphie's dick leaks with precum.

"S-Shit."

His hand's grip on yours tightens up and you understand just how strong he really is, he quickens the pace but it's not enough. The air around him darkens as he unconsciously changes to his demon form.

"Agghh this won't do."

He makes you let go of him and he stands up on the bed, pushing his dick in front of your face with a scarily tense expression. He's extremely turned on, looking down on you. That's when you know this baby-mommy nonsense is over. Belphie places his right hand on your head while pumping his dick with the other. You can tell it's taking him an immeasurable amount of self-restraint to not yank your head and shove his cock down your throat, humping it until he releases himself in you.

"Y/N, say ahh~"

Obediently, you grab into his thighs and open up your pretty mouth for him. He cums all over your face and tongue. When he's done, he closely watches you tasting him and wiping your face off with your hands that are now covered in his seed. Funnily enough, his tastes like condensed milk… it really fits him.

Calming himself down a bit, he sits back down in front of you then grabs you.

"Belphie?"

You have no idea how he does it so quickly, but before you have even realized what's about to happen, you were on your hands and knees with your skirt and underwear down. Your ass facing him as he's already brushing the tip of his cock on your wet cunt. He whistles.

"You weren't kidding. It's a mess down there."

"Ah- H-Hold on, what if Beel comes in?"

He gently places his big hand on your back, pushing you down slowly onto the bed, as if he's taming you. Your face is now on his pillow while your ass is prettily in the air, giving him a good view of your privates.

"Ssshhh. Don't think about that. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing baby."

As if your roles were switched, he was the one calling you baby now.

Not that it mattered anymore to you. You let go of all of your worries to be in the moment. The moment in which Belphie is about to enter you and make an even bigger mess of your insides. With one hand firmly on your waist, he uses his other hand to slowly open you, pushing his dick inside as gently and slowly as he can.

As you feel his length entering you, you realize just how hot a demon's dick is. You thought your insides were warm but his might be even warmer. You squirm under him, calling his name. Almost unknowingly, you reach out for his hand on your waist, placing yours on top of his as he had done earlier to guide you. Except in your case it wasn't for guidance, you just wanted to caress his hand that was so satisfyingly wrapped on your body.

"Belphie… Y-You're so good… Ungh."

Belphie chuckles.

Then you sense some sort of unfamiliar danger emanating from him. The kind that strangely excites you. As you notice that "danger", Belphie leans in over you, wrapping your entire body under his, then he whispers.

"You dumb little bitch♡ You still don't get that I'm about to breed you, huh? I'll fill every nook and cranny of your tight cunt while you'll be helplessly whimpering and calling my name. How cute is that?"

You've always tried really hard to keep up with Belphie. His sloth aside, he always had a nasty attitude, not in a "violent" way but it was like he would look down on you from a place of infatuation. You knew he found you cute and adorable but you never truly understood what it would mean for the long run. Thus you would also keep your guard up with him, trying to "not be looked down on" from his sadistic love for you. Well, now it was clear that you had failed and honestly? Being defiled like this felt embarrassingly good.

He started pounding into you from behind, his weight all over your back as you let yourself lose. Even going as far as drooling all over his pillow.

"That's it! That's the face I've wanted to see all this time! Isn't it annoying to always pretend to be responsible? To always try to meet everyone's shitty expectations of you? This is it. Let yourself sink. Aaahh you're so slutty and adorable, IloveyouIloveyou-"

As you felt like you were about to completely lose yourself to pleasure, the door of the room flung open.

"Belphie, do you know where Y/N… is…"

Beel was done with the leftovers. And now you two were done for too. You were about to panic but Belphie caressed your head, calming you down.

"Sssshhh I got this."

With a calm smile, Belphie turned over to face Beel.

"Ah Beel, yeah sorry. Could you close the door and come here for a sec? Oh- And keep this a secret from the others please."

Beel silently does as he's told, then in disbelief, he sits on his bed across from Belphie's.

"Uh. So. Isn't it better for me to leave?"

Belphie laughs, all carefree. As if he wasn't just calling you a slut and pounding into you like a dog in heat a second ago.

"Leave? We're just starting. In fact we were waiting for you!"

…

What?

You manage to fight off the embarrassment and lift your face up from the pillow. Shooting daggers at Belphie.

"You see, Y/N here reaaaally wants us to fuck her raw but since she's too shy and reserved to admit that, I took matters into my own hands. Would you care to help us?"

"Help with…"

Beel looks at you and the state you're in, then looks away in embarrassment. He's fidgeting with his hands, a bit lost.

"O-Only if Y/N is fine with it. If she tells me I can, I'll do it."

You should've seen this coming. Belphie shares absolutely everything with Beel and vice-versa. So even going as far as sharing a "partner"... well it was always in the realm of possibility.

The twins look at you, you can tell they're begging you to say yes through their eyes. Their gazes full of hope. You sigh. Well… If you're going to whore yourself out… You are going all the way.

"You can join us Beel. But please show at least a little bit of restraint when needed. I don't want it to hurt…"

Beel smiles gently and nods. Belphie smiles deviously and hugs you.

"That's our Y/N! ♡"

Well at the very least, you feel like you can trust Beel to monitor Belphie's behavior in bed… Nervously, Beel gets up from his bed, making his way towards you.

"Uh so, how can I help?"

Belphie looks over at his pillow still covered with a bit of your drool and he chuckles.

"Hmm. Well you see… Y/N has trouble keeping her mouth closed when I fuck her. She needs something to fill her mouth with or else she'll make a mess on my pillow. Not that I mind but I suppose Y/N is quite embarrassed about it…"

The little shit was right. You can't even look back at the pillow, too scared to see just how much you've left behind. Before you can even understand what's happening, Beel was already standing in front of the bed, his waist lining up perfectly with you. He starts to unbuckle his belt before Belphie stops him.

"Ah, wait Beel. Y/N likes doing this part, let her unbuckle it."

This fucker was right again. How does he understand your secret wishes so well? Scary. Without complaining, you gently move Beel's hands away from his front. He blushes at the sight of you unbuckling then unzipping his pants. So much so that his length is already half ready to make his way into your mouth.

You stare at it a bit, observing its size and shape then looking up at Beel who's too shy to look at you directly for longer than 2 seconds. How is he genuinely so cute while Belphie is so not?

But nothing gets past Belphie.

"Y/N~ You just thought something quite rude right now, didn't you?"

Placing his hand behind your head, he pushes you towards Beel's dick.

"Come on. Since you like Beel so much better than me, why aren't you sucking him off yet?"

You hit Belphie's arm as Beel also tells him off, warning him not to be too pushy with you. Well, no matter. You start off by gently kissing Beel's tip, making him grit his teeth at how cute and kind you are to start off so politely. Then you take him in slowly, a bit clumsily. Not sure on how to keep your teeth from touching his shaft, hoping that you're not doing a lousy job… Especially since Belphie is looking at you doing it so closely. Probably regretting that moment from earlier, when he decided against shoving his dick into your throat.

A bit frustrated. He goes back to where he stopped before Beel walked in. He enters you as slowly as the first time, making sure you get used to him being inside you again… Yet you just can't, feeling him fucking you from behind while having to pay attention to how you're taking care of Beel is quite difficult. Belphie and Beel notice your discomfort right away. Beel tells you not to worry about getting everything right while Belphie comments on how cute it is that you're trying so hard to please them, that in on itself is already pleasing.

As the three of you pick up the pace and get lost into the act, the twins' true colors resurface. Or rather, the way they express their love for you becomes very clear. Whenever Belphie spanks you or thrusts into you too hard, Beel warns him to be careful and to make sure he's not hurting you. Belphie retorts that you actually like it when it hurts a little bit which ticks you off because his observation is right.

As you carefully suck him off, Beel keeps petting you and caressing your cheek, praising you. Telling you how good of a job you're doing and how adorable you look. To contrast that, Belphie takes any excuse possible to mock you. Telling you how perverted your mind and body are. Degrading you satisfyingly.

"Everytime Beel calls you a good girl I can feel you tighten up. So you're the kind of whore who likes to be praised for being filthy, hm?"

Beel takes over and reassures you.

"He's just teasing you Y/N. You're so cute and pretty right now that it's hard for him not to pick on you. Please forgive him."

This constant cycle of mockery then praise and praise then mockery makes you shudder from pleasure. Being called a dirty slut from behind, treated roughly. Meanwhile your mouth and head are being treated so kindly, Beel caressing you and calling you cute, smart and pretty. It didn't take long for you to break. You could feel them getting close to release as well and as soon as they called out to you at the same time, it was over.

"Good girl."

"Pervy bitch."

As expected of twins, they managed to sync their climax not only between each other but with you as well. Belphie's load was even hotter than his cock, filling you entirely, you could feel the juices leak embarrassingly from your hole once he pulled out. As for Beel, his seed tasted like thick honey. You drank it as best as you could, making sure that Beel knew how delicious he tastes.

Utterly exhausted, you collapsed on your back, facing the ceiling. Completely fucked out. They joined you, hugging you from each side. Belphie was back to acting like a spoiled little fucker, rubbing his cheek on your breasts.

"Beel~ Join in, it's so soft."

Beel shoots a glance at your chest, then at you.

"Can I?"

You nod, your mind so blank that you don't even take the trouble of uttering a simple "yes." And so Beel follows Belphie's lead, softly laying his cheek on your other breast."

"Beel~ Once Y/N is pregnant her breasts will lactate and we'll be able to drink her milk. Imagine how good it'll taste."

Beel's eyes light up. Oh no.

"Y/N's… milk…"

He lifts his head up, looking at your nipples, then starts sucking on them. You worriedly call out to him.

"Beel! Nothing will come out y-you know?!"

"But still, just imagining it feels good."

"Doesn't it?"

Belphie agrees then joins in on the licking and sucking. You're done for. Two cute boys are treating you like their mommy and chances are, they'll have a second go at you in a few minutes once they notice how wet you've gotten from feeling their tongues all over your chest…

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Wegh that was a long one. As always don't hesitate to leave a comment, even a keyboardsmash is greatly appreciated!! Share how you've lost your mind 🫰

#obey me #obey me smut #om! belphegor #om! belphie #belphegor #om! beelzebub #om! beel #obey me nightbringer #belphie smut #beel smut #hanaruri writes

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lilacmingi · 6 months

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PLAYTIME

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Moondrop!San & Sundrop!Wooyoung x fem reader

Word count: 4,092

Note: This was published on Wattpad October 2022 and since the FNAF movie is coming out in a couple days I’m sharing this one on Tumblr! It’s one of my favorites and I feel like it’s so unique. (this was titled “Sundrop & Moondrop | FNAF AU Special” on Wattpad but I gave it a title for Tumblr) also if the cover looks bad pls ignore it :P

You huffed as you pushed up the metal garage-like door just enough for you to get through. You didn't really care where it led to, you just wanted to get out of the main area of the mall and away from those incessant staff bots.

You just started working at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. In fact, it was your first day on the job and you somehow managed to get yourself locked inside. You were so busy with all your work that you lost track of time. When you finished, you found that you had been locked inside.

The area you just entered was the daycare.

The first thing you spotted was a huge golden statue depicting a sun and moon character, both dressed in attire that resembled that of a jester. Glancing around the room, you saw round tables scattered about, each one with a number on it. You were quick to figure out you were in some sort of reception area of the daycare.

You peered out into the netted area beyond the reception hall, inside were two large, multicolored play structures with cartoon faces of the glamrock mascots from the Fazbear franchise stuck on them and a massive ball pit designed to look like a mote. Your gaze was drawn to a platform a few feet above the play area, made to look like the outlook on a tower, a bright spotlight shining directly on it. Red curtains draped over an arched doorway that led to what you could only assume was a room.

The daycare area appeared to be a safe and vacant place for you to lay low for a while.

Your eyes searched the area for a moment before you spotted a colorful rainbow sign that read: SLIDE INTO FUN! leading directly into the daycare area. It appeared to be your only way inside, seeing as the security bots were patrolling the staircase that led to the second entrance for adults.

Without any other option, you got in and descended down the slide, falling right into a ball pit. You waded through the colorful spheres and stepped out of the pit. Now that you were inside the netted area, you were able to get a better look at everything.

The place seemed to be empty and free of any bloodthirsty animatronics.

Surely, you'd be safe.

Suddenly, your attention was turned to the castle up on the wall. A man suddenly emerged from the arched, curtain-draped opening and stepped out onto the platform. His blonde hair was pushed back away from his face, tousled in a way that made it look a bit spiky. He was dressed in jester attire, the collar ruffled as well as the top of his yellow and red striped pants. Tied on his wrists were red ribbons with bells that jingled when he moved.

The man lifted his arms into the air, chuckling gleefully before diving into the ball pit you were just in moments ago. You watched with wary eyes as the man never came up. Hesitantly, you stepped closer, peering into the ball pit. He emerged abruptly, causing some of the colorful spheres to fly through the air. He made his way out of the ball pit, a bright smile on his face.

"Hello, new friend! You're a bit big to be in the daycare." He tilted his head. "That's alright! We can still have fun!"

He didn't give you a chance to speak as he continued talking.

"We can finger paint, tell stories, drink Fizzy Faz until our heads explode and stay up all night!" He exclaimed, giddily as he pranced around.

"I was actually just hoping to—"

"What's your name, new friend?"

"Uh... Y/n." You answered.

You were wearing a name tag. Did he not notice it?

"Ah! Y/n. What a wonderful name! I'm Wooyoung, but my friends call me Woo. Hey, do you like glitter glue?"

"I-“

"If you like glitter glue, I have glitter glue, and lots of it!"

"I'd like to just stay in here for a while if that's okay."

His eyes sparkled as an excited gasp left him.

"Of course! There's so much we can do! We could play hide and seek, have a puppet show, make macaroni art." He listed enthusiastically.

This guy didn't seem so bad and the daycare appeared to be the safest place for you. Perhaps you could stay.

"Oh, this'll be so much fun! There's one rule, however. Lights stay on. On." He punctuated the last word, his voice sounding ominous when he did.

"Uh. Yeah. I can do that."

"Wonderful!" He clasped his hands together. "Come here! I have some fun activities planned."

He grabbed your hands, yanking you forward. Because of that, you stumbled and accidentally knocked over a stack of cylinders that had crescent moons and music notes on them, the objects making the sound of a party favor as they tumbled to the floor.

Wooyoung came to a stop, turning to see the shapes that had toppled over.

"No, no, no, no! What a mess! Oh, which was the bottom? Where is the top? Clean up! Clean up!" He stressed, hurrying to stack the musical cylinders back up.

Once the stack was back the way it was, he let out a sigh.

"There. Good as new."

"Sorry." You apologized even though it wasn't really your fault, but it felt appropriate.

"It's alright, friend." He beamed. "I get ahead of myself sometimes and I can be a bit clumsy."

He continued to pull you towards a tiny table where he ushered you into a small chair that you barely fit in.

"Look at all this neat stuff!" Wooyoung beamed. "Here."

He placed a piece of copy paper in front of you and began talking about all the different arts and crafts materials he had.

You opted for the colored pencils, grabbing one of them while Wooyoung started grabbing paints.

"What are you gonna draw?" Wooyoung asked, giddily. "I'm gonna paint a sun."

"I'm not sure what I'm gonna draw yet."

"That's okay. Just wait for inspiration to strike!"

As you thought about what to draw, you noticed a black cord stretching across the play area.

"What are those cords?" You asked Wooyoung.

"Oh. Those lead to generators in the play structures. There are five of them and each connect to a light on the outside of the structures." He pointed.

You noticed a few lights here and there attached to the plastic grate walls of the structures. You wondered why there were generators in a play area for children, but chose not to ask questions.

"So, you mentioned Fizzy Faz earlier."

"Uh-huh." He nodded.

"What does it taste like?"

The paintbrush in Wooyoung's hand fell, as did his jaw.

"You've never had it?"

You shook your head.

"We have to change that right away! What flavor do you prefer? There's orange, pink lemonade, cherry, lime, and grape."

"I'll have (your choice)."

Wooyoung immediately got up from his chair and started to hurry off only to stop and turn to you.

"You won't run off, will you?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go." You shrugged.

Minutes later, Wooyoung returned with a can of the fizzy drink and a small paper cup.

"Here you go, friend." He beamed, placing the small cup down on the table.

You thanked him, trying some of the soda, the tiny cup already nearly empty.

"Are you hungry? I have all sorts of yummy snacks. Goldfish crackers, cookies, potato chips, gummies." He listed.

"Now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry."

"Great! I'll be right back."

He hurried off somewhere while you stayed in your seat, working on your drawing.

Moments later, a paper tower was placed on the table as Wooyoung started putting small piles of assorted snacks onto it.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted, so brought everything." He paused for a second. "You don't have peanut allergies, do you?"

Before you could answer, he spoke up. "It's fine. None of these snacks are made with peanut products anyway. Gotta stay safe for the kiddos." He gave a bright smile, his head cocking to the side. "Here you go, friend."

You chuckled at the setup before you. A small, paper cup with soda and a paper towel with little piles of snacks on it.

"What's so funny?" Wooyoung asked.

"This just reminds me of when I was a kid." You smiled softly at the nostalgia. "This was the usual setup for special snack at school."

"Ah, that's right. You're not a kid." He chuckled. "Sorry, friend. I'm used to being around children." He slid the can of Fizzy Faz to you before sitting back down in his seat to continue his painting.

"That's alright." You waved it off, taking a drink of the bubbly soda. "You're trained to handle kids. You're used to that, so I don't blame you for being on autopilot."

"Thank you, Y/n." Wooyoung gave you a gentle smile before turning his attention back to his artwork.

"So, you work here?" He asked.

"You just noticed?" You chuckled.

"Yeah. I was so excited to have a visitor that I got carried away."

"Well, I only just started working here today. I don't know too much about this place and I had so much work I got distracted and when I finished, the doors were locked."

"So you're stuck in here until morning?"

You nodded.

"You can stay in here with me until 6am! You'll be safe here."

"Thank you."

Things were quiet for a few moments. The only sounds were the music playing in the daycare accompanied by the soft noise of your colored pencils against the paper.

"New friend, Y/n. Can I tell you something?" Wooyoung asked, cutting through the silence.

"Sure." You hummed, painting away.

When he didn't say anything, you looked up at him. His cheeks were tinted pink and he was holding back giggles.

"What is it?" You urged.

"You're very pretty."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Only children come into the daycare, and parents, of course, but I'm not used to seeing someone as pretty as you." Wooyoung was blushing like crazy as he spoke. "The teenagers and young adults usually spend their time elsewhere like Roxy Raceway."

"Right. I'm sure this is weird for you."

"No, actually. It's a nice change. The limited non-robot staff we have here don't really come into the daycare, so I'm not around older people that often. But, again, it's a nice change."

An hour or so passed and you were having a wonderful time with Wooyoung. Making crafts and painting really took you back to your childhood and helped to distract you from worrying about animatronics. Wooyoung had even made a cute little drawing of you with crayons, which you found endearing. He was very enthusiastic and bubbly, asking lots of questions about you and your interests. Whenever you'd give him your answer he'd watch you with wide eyes, taking in every word.

The two of you were having a blast when all of a sudden the lights shut off, surrounding you in near total darkness. You let out a gasp, the bright and sunny man's stern words immediately replaying in your head.

"Lights stay on. On."

He was so serious when he said that.

What happens when the lights go off?

"Oh no." Wooyoung muttered. "Oh no. Oh no!"

He stood up from his chair abruptly, causing it to fall over as the panic in his voice rose.

"What's wrong?" You asked, worriedly.

"Not good! Not good!" He put his hands on his face, staggering backwards as he screamed in agony.

Lost in his hysterics, he tripped and fell behind a stack of large, foam blocks sitting about the daycare, the atmosphere becoming eerily silent.

"Wooyoung?" You called out, shakily.

To your shock and mild horror, a completely different person emerged from behind the shapes. This one had dark hair with a white streak in his bangs. His attire was similar to Wooyoung's, but instead of stripes, this man's pants were a dark blue color with yellow stars all over them. He donned a night cap on his head with the same pattern.

"I'm not Wooyoung." The man responded with a sinister grin. "I'm San."

"What happened to Wooyoung?" You asked, taking a step back.

"He's not here right now." His red colored irises that seemed to glow raked down your body. "You're up a bit late, don't you think?"

"No." You answered, taking another step back.

"You should be sleeping. Naughty, naughty." He shook his head while wagging a finger at you.

"I'm not a child." You responded.

He let out a tsk as he leaned in close to you, tilting his head. "Daycare rules."

You took a step back, stumbling when your foot hit something. You had accidentally knocked over the same stack of cylinder shapes that you'd bumped into earlier.

San growled angrily, bending down.

"Clean up! clean up!" He repeated in a seemingly annoyed voice as he began stacking the objects back up.

You then realized Wooyoung reacted the same way and perhaps you could use that to your advantage. You took that as your chance to try and escape, bolting directly for the play structures, crawling up the slide, opting to hide there for a moment.

"Oh~ you wanna play hide and seek?" San chuckled, the sound coming out in a rasp. "I think I can manage."

It sounded like San was on the opposite side of the daycare, which put your nerves at ease, but only for a moment.

Afraid to stay in one place for too long, you

shimmied up the slide and started crawling around in the structure.

What do I do? What do I do?

Would you have to spend the rest of the night hiding from this San guy?

You advanced further into the play structure, moving up a bit higher, taking a moment to peer out into the daycare. It was dark except for the giant screen at the front of the room depicting a sun character that resembled Wooyoung.

Using the light from the screen, you looked around the area from above. You didn't see San anywhere, which terrified you. Instead of staying in one place for too long, you continued on your way, slipping through a colorful tube and into another section of the structure.

As you crawled ahead, you felt your foot catch on something, instinctively flinching before turning around to find a generator. The relief you felt when you saw that it wasn't San was immeasurable.

That's right. There are generators inside the play structures.

You shuffled back to the generator, a red light shining. Feeling around, you managed to find a switch of some sort, your fingers curling around the handle. You pulled up on it, a light on the outside of the structure coming on shortly after.

A quiet sigh of relief leaves you.

One down, four to go.

"You can't hide forever, dear." You heard San's voice from somewhere below.

Taking one last look out into the daycare, you spotted San creeping across the bridge above the ball pit.

You needed to find the other generators, and fast.

You crawled through the top area of the play structure, not finding any. As much as you hated to, you knew you'd have to go back down to the lower level.

Taking in a deep breath and gathering all the courage you could muster, you headed down until you got to the bottom level. You glanced around, checking for San before sneaking your way into another section of the play structure. It didn't take long for you to come across a second generator. You flipped it on and were on the move once again.

The floodlights didn't illuminate the area very well, but it was better than nothing. You hoped turning on all five would somehow bring Wooyoung back.

You continued searching the play structure, opting to follow the cords throughout the area, hoping they would lead you to a generator. Sometimes they would lead to one you had already turned on, while other times they led to a light attached to the outside of the structure.

You hadn't spotted San for quite some time, which gave you a sense of relief. Maybe you got lucky and he forgot about you.

Just then, you spotted him clinging to the outside of the play structure. A scream tore through you as the man leaned close to the grates.

"It's past your bedtime, my dear." He said with a sinister smirk.

You scurried away as quickly as you could, wanting to get as far away from him as possible, your knees becoming sore from crawling around so much.

You had already turned four generators on. There was only one left, but you couldn't seem to find it.

I've searched this entire structure. You thought to yourself. Where could it be?

Just then, you spotted a second play structure on the other side of the daycare, your heart dropping in your chest. The last generator is over there. You're certain of it.

You would have to find a way over to it without getting caught.

Moving silently throughout the play structure, you made your way to the bottom where you slowly began to lose your nerve. Your mind began to fill with petrifying thoughts, wondering what ghastly things San would do if he caught you.

You have to get to that last generator, Y/n. You told yourself, trying your best to psych yourself up and gather your nerves. Getting the lights back on was the only way to ensure yourself safety.

Taking one last look out into the daycare, you got ready to make a break for it, checking for San. When you didn't see him, you took off across the colorful foam flooring, skittering towards the second play structure.

Dark chuckles echoed through the vast room.

"Run run as fast as you can."

Hearing San's taunting frightened you and had you shaking like a leaf, but it also gave you that extra rush of adrenaline you needed, helping to get you safely to the second structure where you momentarily felt safe.

"I can see you." He sang creepily, prompting you to scurry further into the structure in an attempt to get away from him.

You hated this. Why did the lights have to go out all of a sudden? That was the one thing Wooyoung said not to do and now look where you are. It's your first day on the job and you're going to die by the hands of some psychopath in star pajamas. The mere thought of being caught made the panic within you rise tenfold.

You creeped through the structure, hoping San doesn't find his way inside. Little did you know, your fears would soon become a reality.

As you're crawling, you feel someone's breath fanning against your neck.

"Knock knock." He whispered.

You let out a terrified yelp, continuing to move forward at a quicker pace, but you didn't make it very far.

A gasp left you as San grabbed hold of your ankle, jerking you backwards until you were underneath him.

"Caught you."

His hands held you firmly against the flooring of the play structure, preventing you from escaping. You were just a foot from the last generator—so close, yet so far away. San moved in closer, his sharp eyes gazing down at you as a wicked smirk played at his lips.

What do I do?

You were panicking, your heart beating so fast you could hear the pounding in your ears. Fearful of what he would do with you, you shoved him away with your knee, pulling yourself closer to the generator, stretching your arm out, your fingers reaching for the switch, just barely brushing it.

"Wait!"

You paused after hearing San call out to you.

"Don't. Please."

The desperation in his voice caught you off guard, making you hesitate in your actions.

Your brows pulled together in confusion. Did he just ask you not to flip the generator on?

"I thought we were playing hide and seek." He continued, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward.

"Hide and seek?" You parroted in disbelief. "I thought you were trying to kill me!"

"Kill you? No. I thought we were just playing a game."

He pout in his voice almost made you feel bad for him. Almost.

"You didn't exactly make that clear."

He sighed, his head dropping in disappointment.

"I'm turning this on." You told him. "I want Wooyoung back."

"You don't like me?"

Your hand froze once again after hearing his words. He sounded hurt. Pitiful, almost. Turning back to him, you saw the expression on his face. His bottom lip was stuck out in a pout, quivering slightly as his red eyes appearing glossy with tears.

Your hand went limp, abandoning the the generator and silently hoping you weren't about to make a mistake.

•

Your heart thudded against your rib cage, your knees hitting the plastic flooring of the play structure as you crawled as fast as you could through the narrow passageways, getting lost in the maze once again.

I can't believe I let this happen again.

You barely made it out the first time and now you're stuck here once more. That all too familiar feeling of terror was beginning to build inside you as you hurried to hide, ominous chuckles from San echoing down the tunnel you were crawling through. Your body shook as you hurried through the endless labyrinth that was the play structures. The raw panic and trepidation that ran through your body was the only thing keeping you going. Your trembling hand grabbed onto the switch on the third generator, flipping it on.

That's when you heard San's dark chuckling behind you, causing you to gasp.

He was inside the play structure.

Crawling as fast as you possibly could, you turned a corner, shuffling through a tube, coming out at the bridge that connected two of the play towers. You hurried across into the second structure in search for the next generator.

"You're getting better at this, darling." San's voice emitted from across the bridge.

He was right on your tail.

You followed the twists and turns of the tunnels and platforms, not realizing you'd somehow gotten turned around.

Panicked, you changed directions and shimmied down a nearby passageway, narrowly escaping. You arrived at a small ramp that led to a lower level of the play structure. From what you remember, there was a generator nearby one of the ramps, though you weren't sure if this one was the right one. There was no time to think it over as you took the chance.

Just when you thought you were about to find the next generator, you ran into San who had a wicked smile on his face, his eyes flickering with mischief.

You yelped in surprise, which only made him grin wider. In one, swift motion he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you.

"Gotcha."

"You promised you wouldn't chase me this time." You frowned.

"Sorry." He giggled. "It's just so much fun."

"I've had enough hide and seek for the night. I wanna hang out with Wooyoung."

"You got to hang out with Wooyoung earlier." San whined.

"Alright, fine. But I don't want you scaring me anymore."

"No scaring. I promise!"

After that first night at the pizzaplex, you learned San wasn't so bad after all. He just had an odd way of interacting with people sometimes and tended to come off a bit scary. He wasn't nearly as terrifying as he appeared. In fact, he was actually rather adorable.

His counterpart, Wooyoung, had apologized profusely to you once the sun had come up, worried that San had spooked you. Being honest with him, you explained what happened, but assured him that San wasn't a bad person and you actually enjoyed your time with him—when he wasn't chasing you, that is.

From then on, you would drop in and visit Wooyoung during the day while working and stay after hours to spend a little more time with him before bringing San out. Something fishy was definitely going down at the mega pizzaplex, especially with the glamrock animatronics, but with San and Wooyoung around, you felt safe. You found yourself looking forward to seeing them every day, wondering what new shenanigans would ensue once the pizzaplex closed for the night.

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

#ateez imagines #choi san x reader #san x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader #fnaf security breach #ateez x fnaf #five nights at freddy's #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 6 days

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04/21/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Leslie Jones; Nat Torres; SaveOFMDCrew - Let's Get OFMD an Emmy; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby/ Tonight's Taika

== Rhys Darby / Cryptid Factor ==

So our fabulous Captain has shared a video of him ghost hunting in a haunted hotel! The only way to access it (as you can see below) is to sign up for the $10 Cryptid Factor Patreon. Link here. It's cute and funny, and you get access to all of the other Cryptid Factor vids and a lot of other cool perks.

== Taika Waititi ==

Another pic of Taika From Sydney Trip for Rita's launch of TypeBea

Img Src: @fuckyeahworldoftaika

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie spotted out on 4/20!

Img Src: @comedianpinkfoxx IG

== Nat Torres ==

Just a quick couple pics of Nat in hats!

Img Src: Nat Torres IG

== Save OFMD Crew ==

Today SOFMD crew is working on more engagement to get OFMD an Emmy! Artwork by @erostheartist

Feel free to reach out to SOFMD crew on any of the platforms and share your favorite OFMD Season 2 Costumes! Save OFMD Crew Linktr.ee

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

And who could forget the guy who pointed out that Blackbeard was out on a treasure hunt! Annnnd immediately got threatened! Thank you @melvisik for highlighting Enrique Renaldo! He really took one for the team there!

== Colouring Pages ==

More colouring pages from the ever-lovely @patchworkpiratebear! Please click the images below to go to their tumblr pages!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Here we are again-- coming up on Monday. I really hope you all got a chance to get some rest this weekend, a chance to be creative, a chance to heal up a bit for the coming week. Refueling is incredibly important in keeping the ever wonderful you up and running.

Tonight I wanted to get a little sappy and tell you just how amazing you are. Seriously, have you thought lately about just how much went into where are you are today? Millions of years of evolution, thousands of years of civilization for your parents to meet, have you and then so many years of growing, learning, living, and here you are the way you are today. The amount of complex interactions that had to occur to make you are impossible to ever quantify.

You are a unique, beautiful, glorious creature, and when you were born, you had infinite potential for the coming years. You were wonderful, and sweet, and you meant so much to the world around you.

Today, you are both the same, and a different person as you were then. You are different in experience, and growth, but you are still the same beautiful, fantastic, full of potential creature you were the moment you breathed air for the first time. That hasn't changed.

You were worthy of love then, and you're worthy of love now.

You were beautiful then, and you may look different, but you're even more beautiful now.

Your potential was infinite back then, and guess what? It's still infinite. There is so much to do in this life, and you WILL get where you want to be one day (if you're not already there).

You also mean so much to the world around you. The players may have changed, or stayed the same, but you still mean the world to those who love you, whether they say it or not.

You are a tiny shining speck in the grand scheme of time on this planet, and yet, you make such an impact on every other speck you encounter, and just like the millions of years before you, you are instrumental in the backstory of someone yet to come.

You don't have to have kids, to make that kind of an impact (although if you do that's it's own path) even just interacting with others, giving kindness where there wasn't any before can cascade and make a world of difference, which then spreads in it's own infinite direction to the future.

Your life matters. Your love matters. You matter.

Rest well lovelies, sweet dreams.

Img Src: @/TheGoodQuote's IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is "Out of Context"

Gifs courtesy of @thunderwingdoomslayer and @mermaidstede!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #save ofmd #taika waititi #long live ofmd #adopt our crew #save ofmd crew #leslie jones #nat torres #the cryptid factor #rhys darby faction

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huntinglove · 11 months

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How to get away from antiship spaces (mostly)

Warnings: Long post, antis mention, mentions of pedophilia, rape, self harm and gore (none show, not descriptive)

Have you recently learned that you align yourself with the proship label? Would you like to get away from antis as safely as you can? Here's what I've learned, as an ex anti:

1. It may be hard, but try to get rid of/abandon your accounts where you used to interact with antis.

This is one of the hardest steps because having a lot of followers can be discouraging, but it's the safest approach in this situation, because if antis see you following or interacting with proshippers they WILL question you about it and depending on how you tackle their asks they'll throw you to the wolves and publicly "warn" people about you so people can mass report your account/harass you

This applies to anything; Tumblr blogs, Twitter profiles, Discord servers, if you've interacted with antis block them and delete your account if you decide to adopt the proship label

Antis constantly claim that they don't harass people but as soon as someone drops the anti label they dogpile them and call them "traitors" as well as their usual buzzwords to catch people's attention, it's better to pull the plug directly than just rebrand your account

1.5. If you REALLY want to keep your account because you've used it for a long time or because it works as a portfolio, please create a different account to post about proship content

If you make a new account remember to block your anti mutuals/followers from your main account before you start posting, art styles can be very unique and easy to spot similarities in, as well as typing patterns and reoccurring emojis/symbols

If there's the option to, keep your profile private until you've built a steady environment for yourself, if you prefer to keep your profile private permanently that's also a good option!

Remember, your safety matters more than numbers on a screen!

2. This one should go without saying but, please don't share much of your trauma/mental health issues/triggers with people online in general, but especially not with antis

I used to talk about my struggles and vent publicly a lot, antis would stalk my accounts and send me all types of fucked up content.

I've had people send me rape videos and threats, people telling me I deserved the abuse I went through, people would send me gore and self harm images, as well as suicide tutorials.

They can and will use all of it to their advantage, they're restless and will dig up even decade old posts if they feel it'll be useful for them. It can and will take a toll on your mental health, so please save yourself the trouble and only open up with people you genuinely trust and feel safe talking to!

You're not alone, but please don't let dangerous people take advantage of you when you're at a bad spot

3. Keep an eye on your followers, especially if your profiles are public. There are always some things to look out for to make sure your followers aren't antis pretending to be proshippers

According to my personal experience, here's some red flags to look out for:

A.Antis think that the word proship means problematic ship, so they'll refer to pairings as "a proship"

Most proshippers dislike this terminology because it comes from an incorrect definition and usually avoid it

B. TikTok antis specifically come up and use a lot of emoji combos, creating meanings for them and usually adding one or two combos that are actually known to proshippers, along with some never seen before

A lot of the time they use it to identify themselves, a sign that means "I'm not actually a proshipper, just baiting"

I've also seen antis use the clover emoji in combos, inspired by the "clovergender/cloversexual" scam that 4channers came up with, to make it seem like the LGBTQ+ community was welcoming to offending pedophiles. Antis do this because they assimilate the proship label with problematic ships, mostly age gaps/underage content

C. Their account is brand new but they already follow a lot of proshippers. This is usually because they'll follow proshippers who've been posted on a blocklist, usually in the exact order that they've been listed too

If they're on Tumblr, they'll usually keep the people they follow public, so that other antis can find and harass those proshippers

D. Keep an eye on their follow list. Like stated above, they'll usually keep it public and 9 times out of 10 there will be an out of place antiship account, it's most likely their main profile/account/blog

E. They'll use their usual buzzwords on their own posts

For example, if they're trying to mimic a proselfship account they'll post pictures of underage characters and caption it things like "omg i'm such a pedo" and tag their post with proship related tags

Of course this doesn't apply to everyone, so it's always important to take context into consideration, as well as how many of these red flags may apply.

And lastly, please remember that the block button is your friend.

If someone's interacting with you and something about them seems/feels off, block and move on

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kjscottwrites · 2 years

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Do you read erotica? Do you have opinions about how erotic language is used? Good news! I've got a survey for that ~

EDIT: Survey is CLOSED! Stay tuned for results - coming soon!

As a new erotica writer, finding the sweet spot between clarity and sex appeal in a scene can be challenging - like really, bemusingly, cringingly challenging. Scouring the web, I quickly found that I'm not the only writer facing this problem. Yet, there seems to be little to no wholistic data out there to serve as a guiding light.

That's where you come in! If you're an erotica reader with some free time (and some strong opinions on the topic) make your voice heard!

Feel free to share and repost ! There's a quick Q&A under the cut if you want some more info:

Wait so.....

Q: What if I don't read erotica myself but know people who do?

A: Please still feel free to share AND/OR repost if you're comfortable doing so. I'm active here on tumblr, but hope the survey can reach erotica-enthusiast communities on other socials so that the data is as diverse as possible.

Also... Even if you are a very occasional erotica reader, or someone who dislikes the way a lot of erotica is written, your opinion is still very valuable. You're more than welcome to fill it out for any reason.

Q: Is this survey SFW?

A: Not remotely! The survey will ask you to verify that you are 18+ and comfortable with potentially-offensive erotic language right at the start. Survey-taker discretion is advised.

Q: Is the survey anonymous?

A: Yep! Since it's a google survey it may show your email at the top, but this survey will NOT collect that information, nor any identifying information about you.

Q: Are you going to share the results?

A: Of course! The survey will remain open until the end of October 2022 and shortly after it closes I will share all of the data in a comprehensive and easy to read document. Be sure to follow me if you're a writer who would find this data useful!

Have any other questions? Feel free to ask.

#please help boost!#writeblr #writing #survey #bookblr #romance novels #romance #adult fiction #nsft #n/sfw #language

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dyemelikeasunset · 1 month

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Feeling a whole lot of emotions right now, but the good kind. I found Dom and Mor through a Tumblr poll about webcomics, and decided to read through it — as a gnc lesbian I loved seeing the characters and their relationship and your really cool artstyle. But when I got to one of your notes at the end of an instalment, where you wished everyone Eid Mubarak and said something like ‘we made it’, my heart felt like it stopped. Maybe it’s just because I’m not old enough to have moved out of my parent’s house and so never really had the chance to express myself without worrying about what my small town community will tell them, but… oh man, as you probably know, being Muslim and queer can be so isolating sometimes, since some people in both communities will think that those two parts of your identity contract themselves when they… don’t, of course. It makes me so indescribably happy to know that there is someone like me out there — who is celebrating Eid, has a wife, and creates beautiful art that showcases queer characters. I knew that logically there must be other queer Muslims out there, but I’d only ever heard of them in the context of them being imprisoned or shunned. It means so, so much to me that you chose to be open with all of this online, because it really makes me feel, in a way that not many other things can, that people like me do get to be happy, do get to be themselves… and it makes me believe that maybe one day I will have that too. Thank you, I guess, is what I’m trying to say, for showing me that I’m not alone. It really means a lot. Being open online can incite harassment, I def know, but thank you for choosing to do so. Of course you don’t do it for thanks, but it has really meant a lot to me, just to see someone else like me out there :). I hope that you’re having a blessed Ramadan and that you have a lovely Eid!

The reason I chose to be open about it online is pointedly because I have been in such a similar spot as you. When I was young, the isolation and existential loneliness was almost unbearable. Then as a young adult, most of the other queer Muslims I met were so entrenched in their own traumas that our bonds were mainly over our shared pain. As I've grown, I realized that yes, there comes a time to talk about being queer and muslim and how those things deserve a place in the world together, but more than that I want to be open, loud, and casual about who I am. So many other identities are allowed that normalcy-- I want to be that, and I can't bear to be quiet about it anymore

I'm happy my work and elements of my life were able to reach you. You're not alone-- and a casual, integrated, peaceful life as a queer muslim is absolutely possible. I hope you're able to find your version of that someday in the future

I hope the rest of Ramadan also treats you well!

#long post /#text heavy /

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mandos-mind-trick · 9 months

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The Phantom of Pabu - Part 1

Summary: After being rescued from the Empire, Crosshair spends his days miserably existing on Pabu. Haunted by the past, he's slowly drowning in his thoughts, until he spots you. You pique his interest from the start, a person who might just be more broken than he is.

Pairing: Crosshair x reader

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, suicide attempt, alcohol abuse, nightmares, sleep deprivation and its side effects, stalking-like behaviors, depression, descriptions of war and its aftermath, sleepwalking, brief mention of slavery, brief allusion to trafficking, trauma bonding, possessive and protective Crosshair, a bit of a savior complex

A/N: This is so different from anything I've written before, in a different style than I usually write. It evolved into something way more than it was supposed to be, and honestly I'm a little scared to share it. It's a testament of where my mind has been these last few weeks and really just a lot of feelings and emotions pouring out onto the page. Please heed the warnings as this is a pretty heavy story, especially this part in particular.

Next > | MASTERLIST

(Gif found on Google since Tumblr's gif search sucks)

At least they managed to settle somewhere warm.

Crosshair is grateful for that one thing as he reclines on a bench, shielded from the unrelenting sun by a tree. The island is hot today, drawing his brothers to the beach in an attempt to stay cool. As uncomfortable as it is, it is much preferable to somewhere cold.

He hates the cold.

The beach bustles with the sound of the inhabitants of the island, all of them seeking the cool water in relief from the heat of the day. It’s loud, sights and sounds threatening to overwhelm him. He hasn’t been here long, not long enough to feel comfortable with the freedom he’s been allotted.

No one knows.

No one cares.

He knows. He cares. He can’t forget.

He might have left, he might have suffered in the heat in favor of somewhere quiet had he not had somewhere to focus his attention. A distraction from the screaming of children, the endless movement of the crowd on the beach.

It hadn’t taken him long to spot his distraction, the grounding scene to keep him from losing his mind. You’re seated in the sand, as far from the crowd as you can be. Your shoes are off, placed neatly beside you. Your legs are pulled against your chest, your arms wrapped around them as you stare out at the cerulean water.

You haven’t been on Pabu long. He’d glimpsed you during your arrival with a few others, quickly lost in the crowd he was trying to avoid. Hunter had dragged him along, repeating the endless mantra that socialization is good for him.

Crosshair disagrees.

Hunter was persistent in forcing him into social situations, knowing well Crosshair would simply observe and refuse to participate. He preferred watching from a distance, becoming nothing more than a figure in the shadows. He knows the corners of Pabu well; that was where he made himself at home.

You have made this outing less unbearable, at least.

You’ve hardly moved since he spotted you, shifting only slightly to alleviate an ache in your joints. You don’t seem bothered by the sun or the heat, your skin glowing under the bright radiance from above.

Crosshair wonders what you’re thinking about. He rolls his toothpick between his lips, mind wandering as he considers you. He refuses to believe your head is empty as you stare out at the horizon. You’re far too fascinating to be reduced to a brainless shell. He had never been one to consider the thoughts of others, but staring at you has made him curious.

Not curious enough to approach, not curious enough to ask.

Curious enough to disregard the crowd and its maddening dissonance. He’s always alert, always ready, but your mysterious presence is enough to quiet the ruckus to a bearable level.

He gazes at you as the sun tracks a path across the sky, the crowd beginning to thin as evening settles in, turning the sky shades of orange and pink. You remain sitting there, still as a statue, when Hunter calls his name. He’s almost hesitant to leave, hesitant to walk away before you do. For a moment, the absurd idea passes through his mind that you might actually be a statue, but he knows that’s not true. He’d seen the small movements as you adjusted yourself, the small flinch as two children got too close to you while playing.

You’re still there as he rises, turning his back to you as he leaves his bench. His curiosity has been piqued.

Perhaps this place isn’t so unbearable after all.

***

You’ve invaded his thoughts, controlling his mind even as he sits alone in his room. He’d memorized every small detail of your being that day; you’ve been plaguing him since. He doesn’t know your name, he doesn’t know where you live. He doesn’t know a single thing about you, other than when you’d arrived on this island refuge, disappearing into the crowd of welcoming inhabitants like a phantom.

He’s become existential in his thoughts. Are you even real? Are you a figment of his imagination as he fights the guilt and shame threatening to devour him every time he gets even just a brief moment of reprieve?

He needs to see you again, even if just to prove you’re more than a figment of his imagination.

A ghost sent to haunt him for his sins.

Maybe Hunter is right. Maybe he has been alone for too long.

He can’t stand the considerate, generous, welcoming inhabitants of the island. He doesn’t deserve such kindness, such compassion after the things he’s done. If they knew the blood that stained his hands, the oppression he’d doled out simply because that’s what good soldiers do, they wouldn’t be so amiable.

He’s become almost nocturnal to avoid them.

Sleep evades him, and when exhaustion overcomes him, the nightmares begin. His brothers are gracious enough not to mention it, but he can see it. The worry, the concern in their gazes as he blearily stumbles out the door, choking on smoke and frigid air and rain. Endless rain.

Muscles tense and tight from the frozen air, clothes soaked through, half delirious from the cold and hunger. He’s weak, barely able to get his legs under him as he races for the door, desperate to escape, desperate to forget.

He walks in the warm air, when the sky is black and dotted with stars, when the world is quiet and asleep. No one around to try and engage him in conversation, no one to give him pity-filled looks as he passes. No one to ask after him, the disgusting shine of sympathy in their gaze. The few who pass on rare occasions don’t look at him, avoiding his gaze fearfully as if he’s some wraith slinking through the blackness ready to feast on the unfortunate soul who looks him in the eye.

A ghost haunting the island, lost and wandering for all eternity until the ocean washes away the last remains of the rock where the city stands.

His hands are still trembling, clenched into fists at his sides when you appear out of the darkness like a phantom. You’re ahead of him, far enough you haven’t noticed him yet. Even his enhanced vision has trouble making you out, but it’s you unmistakably.

Dressed in black, whether it’s on purpose or simply chance, you blend into the shadows of the night, slipping in and out of the light at each doorstep. You truly appear like a ghost, steps slow enough to make you seem as if you’re floating. You’re barefoot, nearly silent as you slip through the darkness.

Crosshair follows, encaptured by your mysterious presence. His mind draws forth the stories Omega had heard from Phee and recounted to them. Stories of seafarers seeing ghosts in the waves on stormy nights, sailors hearing the voices of women calling out to them, drawing them into the waves to be lost forever.

You walk the streets, nearly making one full circle around the island before you stop, freezing in the spot between lights. Crosshair blinks as he comes to a stop, as if he’s suddenly waking from a dream. He’s closer than he wanted to be, three houses separating the space between you.

You suddenly turn, his body stilling in the darkness. Can you see him? Had he made a sound in his distraction and alerted you to his presence?

There’s fear in your eyes. Your shoulders lift, squaring as you tense, almost like you’re preparing for a fight. Hands balled into fists, your chest heaves as you glance around, almost as if you don’t realize where you are. You take half a step back, eyes glancing over him but there’s no sign of recognition, no realization that he’s there.

You’re running. He’s half tempted to follow, half tempted to finally learn where you live, if only so he can remind himself you are, in fact, real. He stays planted where he is, watching your retreating form meld into the darkness until you’ve disappeared from his sight.

He stays where he is, playing over the scene in his mind. Did you notice him somehow? If he had been the cause of your fearful reaction, you hadn’t confronted him. Perhaps you felt his stare, some primal instinct recognizing something was behind you, something was following you in the dark.

Whatever had happened, it startled you. He likens you to a wild animal, feeling a bit like the predator that had been stalking his prey. You were easy prey.

It would have been so effortless.

He’s shaking by the time he returns to the house, the stars beginning to disappear as morning arrives. He slips into bed, drawing the covers over his head as though he can hide from his very thoughts.

***

The next time he sees you, it’s during the day.

You had been absent from his nightly walks, his eyes tracing every inch of the darkness he could see, waiting for your form to appear like a ghostly apparition. You had been missing, however. Perhaps he startled you more than he first imagined.

You appear at one of Shep’s parties, towed in behind Phee rather reluctantly. He’s in his corner, surveying the party from a distance like he preferred. Most left him alone, having learned he was a bore in conversation and those who hadn’t realized it had felt the bite of his words. Hunter had scolded him like a naughty child, but if it kept them away, he would face the reprimanding of his abrasive nature.

His interest is piqued when you appear, looking like the phantom he pictured you as. The glow that your skin had radiated under the sun is gone. You’re pallored and gaunt, even in the orange glow of the setting sun, looking every bit like the ghouls in the stories Omega enjoyed so much. The wispy blue dress that hung from your form was no help, limp strands of hair rustling in the breeze off the sea. Your eyes are swollen and dark as they pass over the party, eventually meeting his.

He should draw his gaze away and pretend he was simply doing the same, observing the milling party-goers. Yet he can’t seem to draw his gaze from you, locked in under your stare. There’s no recognition there, no sign you had seen him that night, no threat you were going to make a scene, expose him for following you for an hour as you wandered around in the middle of the night.

You break first, drawn away as Phee introduces you to Tech. You look displeased to be forced into conversation, Tech oblivious to your dismay as he prattles off some senseless facts about something Phee had said. At least with Tech, you could avoid having to partake in the conversation. He could talk enough for everyone involved.

He continues to watch you through dinner. You’re seated across the table and two seats down from him. The tenseness in your body speaking to your discomfort has not lessened any. You’re still again, aside from the slow lift and lower of the fork in your hand. You avoid everyone’s gaze, as if trying to ward away any attention that may be brought upon you.

You luck out, most of the guests seem to forget you’re even there. Crosshair doesn’t; his gaze is coaxed back to you constantly throughout the evening. He can’t look away, feeling as if he’s watching a tragedy unfold in front of him.

He’s witnessed enough of those.

None have affected him like this.

You disappear before dark, slipping away without a sound. No one seems to notice. No one but Crosshair. He casts a glance over the throng before he slips away, catching up to you. He stays a good distance behind you, not wanting to reveal himself yet. He’s reminded of that night he followed you, except he doesn’t have darkness to use to his advantage.

You look no less like a phantom in the red light of sunset. If anything, it makes you look more like a ghost. A ghoul painted in bloody light, a visage of pain and suffering.

He’s lost in his thoughts once more as he follows you, distracted by your haunting image. His heel drags across the stone, loud in the quiet peacefulness of the evening. You pause upon hearing the sound, shoulders squaring once more.

He moves instinctually, dipping behind a wall as you turn on your heel, eyes scanning the street behind you. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for someone to be following you at this hour, even if they only happened to be going the same direction as you. Yet, your reaction says differently. Had you been lost in your thoughts as well, distracted by whatever raced through your mind?

“I know you’re there.” You say, voice low and soft. He’s never heard you speak before. Your voice is just as haunting as he imagined. There’s no accusation in your tone. It’s not a shout to draw attention. “You’ve been following me.”

He stays behind the wall, fighting the war within himself. He should stay hidden, he should keep himself at a distance. If he reveals himself, you may realize he had been there that night. What answer would he give if you asked why? He hadn’t meant to follow you, at least not for so long. You had lured him behind you like a fish caught on a line.

Would you run again if he spoke the truth? Despite his dislike of practically everyone, you’ve caught his attention in a way he’s not sure he wants to lose. It frightens him, and it worries him all at once. He needs no one. He’s happy in solitude.

That’s not true, is it.

He slowly steps out from behind the wall, keeping a safe distance from you. Your eyes widen a bit, as if you had been doubting yourself, as if it would be the same as the night he followed you. Had you thought you were going mad?

You shift your weight as he reveals himself, the tenseness of your shoulders not easing any. Why should it? He’s a stranger to you. You’ve never spoken before now. He’s not even sure if you’ve seen him before tonight. You had caught him staring upon your arrival. Would you assume he’s been the culprit the entire time?

“You left the party early.” He says, trying to come up with an explanation before you can ask. You may not take to the truth as openly as he could hope.

You shift again, hands curling around the wispy edges of your dress. “I don’t like parties.” You say it with such bluntness he can’t help the smirk that lifts his lips.

“I don’t either.” He says. “Too many people.”

“Too much noise.” You say, nodding in agreement. “You’re...one of Tech’s brothers.” He gives you a questioning glance. You seem to know of him, despite this being the first time you’ve spoken. “Phee likes to talk about Tech.” You quickly explain.

Of course. You had arrived at the party with Phee, meaning she had likely invaded your life as much as she invaded his brothers’. She and Tech were very much infatuated. While he’s not heartless enough not to feel happy for his brother, Phee’s personality was grating to his introverted nature. Omega likes her too, and so she spends ample time with them.

It appears she has gotten to you as well.

“The name’s Crosshair.” He says, slipping a toothpick into his mouth.

You tell him your name, his mind replaying it over and over to commit it to memory. It wasn’t likely he’d forget, but he doesn’t want to run the risk.

“Are you going the same way?” You ask, taking half a step backwards. You’re anxious to get home. He can tell by your body language. You want to get there before others start leaving the party. “You could walk with me. I promise I won’t talk your ear off. I could not talk at all, if that’s what you prefer.”

“I’m not one for talking.” He says, his body already moving forward. He’s not entirely sure if you’re even going in the same direction he is, but he’s not going to complain.

A smile tugs at your lips as you fall in step beside him. “I was raised in a culture where you don’t speak unless you have something meaningful to say.”

“Sounds like an ideal place.” He says.

“It was, until it was wiped out by the war.” You respond.

So that was it. The war had been what ultimately led you here. He doesn’t press any further. He can tell you don’t want to speak more on the subject. Instead he falls into silence as he walks with you, letting you lead the way to your tiny hovel.

It’s not far from where you stopped that night he followed you.

“This is me.” You say, stepping up onto the small porch. “Thank you for walking with me. Solitude is nice, but sometimes silent company is better.”

Wise words. You may be right in that regard. He didn’t hate walking with you, and he certainly didn’t regret his decision. The silence had felt natural, not forced like the time he spent with those who believed conversation was necessary and silence was some form of disease.

Perhaps he was capable of enjoying others' company after all.

***

Despite your formal introduction, Crosshair finds little time to interact with you alone. The next time he sees you after the party is in passing.

Phee is the one that draws the attention to you, having spotted you leaving the beach as they were arriving. You don’t seem to have settled well into your new life. The dark, puffy circles under your eyes have worsened, and it seems you only continue to liken the ghost he once thought you were.

You were doing more than sitting this time. Your pants are damp almost to the knees, sand sticking to the fabric. Despite your time in the sun, there’s still a pallor to your skin, making you seem almost sickly in the bright sunlight.

He’s not the only one who’s noticed.

“Are you feeling alright, sweetcheeks?” Phee asks, pressing a hand to your forehead.

He watches the squaring of your shoulders, the subtle twitch of your muscles as her hand makes contact with your skin. You’re ready to flinch away, bracing yourself for whatever horrid thought passed through your mind as her hand lifted towards you. Perhaps you may have even tried to duck, had social convention not frowned upon such extreme reactions. It would have brought up questions, questions he knows you are desperately trying to avoid.

Instead you freeze, staying far too still as Phee feels your forehead. Reacting strangely would only heighten her concern. Brushing her off will save you at least this time, though she will be paying closer attention to you now. Perhaps the more extreme reaction would have been the better choice.

“I’m still trying to settle into a new place. That’s always been hard for me.” You speak slowly, and though it might only be a half truth, he can tell it’s worked.

Phee lets her hand drop back to her side. “Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean it. Anything at all.”

You nod slowly, something flashing across your gaze too fast for even him to decipher it. “Right. I-I will.” You begin to step away slowly, almost as if you were waiting for someone to stop you. “I’m going to go rest now.”

You turn without waiting for a reply, hastily retreating up the path from the beach back onto the streets of Pabu. Crosshair is half tempted to follow you, to slip away from the others, but Omega takes hold of his hand, leading him out into the sand. He allows it, having more patience for the kid than anyone else.

The increase in interactions with you has only heightened his curiosity. Even now that he’s heard you speak and knows your name, you’re still a phantom in his mind. You appear so hollow, so empty and yet he knows the depths inside your soul are so vast the entire ocean could fill them and still not reach the top. You seem to float past those around you, even the very air seeming to cut right through you.

You appear so fragile, and yet the walls around you are so steep, even the most experienced climber would shake their head in prospect of climbing them.

Curiosity would not be enough for him to wish to climb those walls, to see what devastation lies on the other side. Curiosity is not a strong enough word to drive him to seek you out, to yearn for your voice, your story, your very being.

He wants to see the devastation inside you because he knows it is a mirror of his own.

Only you could understand him in the way he yearns for. His brothers try, but they can’t know, they can’t possibly understand him. Not in the way he needs. No amount of sympathetic looks and words could possibly begin to chip away at the thick walls that protect him.

He wants to tear down your walls, he wants to see your ugly insides, if only to vindicate the ugliness that resides behind his carefully crafted exterior. You are not so good at hiding it, at least not to those who know. Crosshair knows you will shatter eventually, just as he did.

He’d had his brothers to catch him.

Who do you have?

***

Crosshair sees little of you over the next few weeks. He catches glimpses in passing, often being herded somewhere by Hunter or Omega. You simply seem to exist, floating past the crowd, or sitting on your porch with a cup of caf. You don’t look any better than you had before, still pallored and gaunt, all the life seeming to have been sapped from your body.

He finds himself pausing his nightly walks in front of your small house. He hasn’t seen you walking since that night, but occasionally he spots movement in the windows of your hovel, shadows moving in the light through the curtains.

The most he sees of you is in passing on the landing pad on their way to do a supply run. You were speaking with Phee, pushing a bag of credits into her hands. He could see the desperation in your eyes, practically pleading with her.

Whatever it is you wanted, you were desperate to get it.

It plagued his mind the entire trip. What could you be so desperate to get? A relic from your home world? Something from your past to bring back fond memories before war stole everything from you? Or perhaps something else. It could be anything.

It could be anyone.

The thought stirs something inside of him, something that makes him feel sick. It burns through his veins, heating his skin. He pushes the thought aside, hating how it makes him feel.

You disappear once more after your discussion with Phee, fulfilling your role as the ghost in his life. He continues his walks, pausing in front of your home but you never grace him with your presence, even unknowingly.

It’s a week later when he finally sees you once more.

It’s late. The moon is full, bathing the island in cool light. There’s not many places to hide tonight, not many shadows to conceal him, yet he hadn’t been able to shake the need to walk. His mind had been restless, and the images behind his eyes when he closed them were too much to bear so he slipped from the house, stalking along the quiet streets.

He passes your house, pausing in his usual spot. His brow furrows as he takes in the scene in front of him.

Your front door is wide open, the lights on inside. He pauses there for a moment, waiting for any sign you may be moving around in there, but it’s quiet. Still. Your shoes are on the porch, haphazardly laying with the toes facing the street, like you had left with them on, then decided against it and tossed them back onto the porch.

Either that, or you had left in a hurry. He scans the area but there’s no sign of you, his stomach twisting nervously. He’s not sure why. The scene in front of him has put him on edge. For someone so closed off, leaving your door open was not what he would have expected. Even if you had ventured for a short walk, leaving your private space wide open for anyone to see was out of character.

He continues his walk, more alert than he had been. He moves slowly, waiting for a sound, a sign, anything that may lead him to you.

It doesn’t take him long.

He spots you first, stumbling lazily down the street. He can hear you mumbling as he gets closer, cursing with slurred words. There’s a bottle in your hand, glowing faint blue in the light of the moon.

You’re drunk, a nearly empty bottle of spotchka clutched in your hand. So that was what you had sent Phee after.

He wonders if that’s the only bottle you’ve had tonight.

He debates the best course of action. You may react if he startles you, possibly waking the neighbors. He does not want to have to face them, to try and explain. He knows it’ll only bring more unwanted attention to you as well. They’ll want to help, they’ll check on you, they’ll worry about you.

You’d hate him forever.

You freeze in your stumbling walk, his body stopping as well. He’s pulled into the memories of that first night he followed you. There’s nowhere to hide tonight, though if you spot him on your own perhaps your reaction will be more desirable. You slowly turn, swaying a bit on your feet like you’re trying to stand in a stiff breeze. You squint at him, mouth hanging open as you take him in. He wonders what it is you see. Can you even recognize him in this state? Or is he a shadow, a ghostly figure your alcohol-riddled mind is trying to piece together.

He says your name quietly, your eyes widening as they focus on him. He steps closer, moving slowly, carefully. You’re unpredictable in this state. He pauses just past an arm distance away, worried about getting too close. You might run again.

“Crosshair!” You shout, bringing the bottle to your lips, draining the rest. “What’re ya doin out so late?”

He can smell the alcohol on you at this proximity, the scent burning his nose. You look a mess, beyond just your drunken demeanor. Dark, swollen circles rim your red eyes, your clothes wrinkled and worn like you haven’t changed them in a few days. Strands of hair stick to your sweaty forehead, your face looking sunken and gaunt. Your feet are bare again, though whether that was a conscious choice or a consequence of your inebriation, he’s unsure. The haphazardly placed shoes suddenly make sense.

“You’re drunk.” He says, looking you over. You don’t seem hurt, not physically at least.

You sniffle, staring at the empty bottle in your hand. “Guess I am.”

You throw the bottle with a force he didn’t know you were capable of, the glass shattering loudly on the stone street. You stumble backwards from the force of your throw.

“It’s fucking stupid.” You say, wheeling away from him. “Those motherfuckers took everything from me!” You brace your hands on the wall overhanging the cliff. You push yourself up, kneeling on the edge. It’s a long drop to the houses below. The fall might kill you, if you landed wrong.

He suddenly feels nervous. Would you jump? He wouldn’t have pitted you for someone who would do such a thing sober. You’re not sober, though. You’re not in your right mind.

“They’re coming back.” You whisper, staring down at the moonlit city below.

“Who’s coming back?” He asks, watching you carefully. He can’t imagine anyone on the island so much as threatening you, much less attempting anything uncouth.

“They’re coming. They’re coming.” You’re starting to get frantic. Whatever it is you think you’re seeing, it’s driving you mad. “We have to go before they get here. We have to go!”

He moves purely on instinct. His years of training have saved many lives before, but none of them felt like this.

His arm is around your middle before your knees leave the ledge, body falling forward into his arm. He uses his weight to pull you backwards, turning mid-fall so he takes the brunt of it, his back hitting the stone street. You fall on top of him, stunned long enough for him to secure his hold around you.

His heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. He holds you tightly, half to keep you restrained and half for his brain to process that he did catch you, he did make it in time. You’re still here, you’re secure in his arms.

He hasn’t felt this way in a while.

He hasn’t felt this way since Barton IV, since the avalanche, since he had to keep Mayday and himself alive through a blizzard only to watch him die. He had lost Mayday after trying everything he could to save him. He feels like he didn’t do enough. He feels responsible.

He won’t let the same thing happen to you.

You scream, the sound muffled by his shirt as he forces your face against his chest. You try to fight him, but all the strength with which you threw the bottle is gone. You’re no match for him. Not in this state. He sits himself up, keeping you restrained against his body.

“They’re coming back.” You sob against his chest, beginning to hyperventilate. “They’re coming back, we have to go!” You continue to struggle, but your fight is waning, getting weaker and weaker. “We have to go before they come back!”

“Stop.” He grabs your face, pulling you away from his chest enough that you can see him. Tears and snot slide down your skin, wetting his fingers. You’re sobbing, breaths hitching as your body tries to regulate itself. “Stop.” He shakes you, nothing more than an attempt to snap you out of this delusion. “No one is coming.”

You stare up at him with those haunted eyes, the moonlight making the dark circles under them seem more intense. “I can’t sleep.” You whisper, shockingly alert compared to what he had just seen. He can feel you folding, your body getting heavier until it’s only his grip on you holding you up. “Maybe if I get drunk enough, I’ll pass out before I remember.”

He lets you fall limp against his chest, keeping his arms locked around you to prevent you from trying something stupid again. His heart is still racing, the adrenaline making his hands shake. He had been designed for extreme stress. He had been designed to run straight into battle and not bat an eye.

The thought of losing you so easily has rattled him.

He needs to get you back home, somewhere he can keep a closer eye on you until you inevitably pass out from the alcohol in your system. He shifts you in his arms, pushing himself to stand. You’re light, far too light. He wonders if you’ve been eating, or if your sleep deprivation has taken over your entire life. Tech had spewed the detriments of sleep deprivation several times during the course of the war. They were designed to go without sleep for extended periods, but even they were not immune. They would begin to degrade to the point of delusion, and death would follow soon after.

He wonders how long it’s been, how long you’ve suffered without sleep.

You truly are a ghost.

It’s a surprise the inhabitants of the nearby houses haven’t been roused by the commotion. Or perhaps it’s just luck. The last thing he needed was someone else making this worse in an attempt to help. He has you under control now. If someone were to intervene, he’s unsure of how you would react.

He carries you back to your house, the door still open and the lights still on. It feels strange, invading your space. He feels as if he’s breaking some unspoken rule, infringing upon a sacred space as he steps in the door.

It’s a mess. Clothes and blankets are strewn around the small living area. Dirty dishes sit like landmines, half eaten food spread across the stone floor. How long it’s been there, he’s not sure he wants to know. He follows the trail into the bedroom, that space not much better off. Clothes everywhere, full and empty bottles of alcohol on the floor, the bed stripped completely of sheets and blankets.

He can’t let you stay here like this.

He finds the ‘fresher, stepping inside. It’s at least cleaner than he expected, damp clothes and towels piled on the floor, used containers of shampoo and soap littering the sink. He clears a spot, swiping the containers onto the floor. He sits you on the counter, your eyes closed. For a moment he thinks you might have passed out, but you crack your eyes open, staring at him.

He leans you back against the mirror, making sure you’re steady as he digs to find a clean rag. He finds a semi-clean one, running it under the cold water before gently wiping down your face. He cleans every inch of exposed skin, checking the bottoms of your feet. Dirty, but thankfully uninjured.

He can’t leave you here. It’s too risky. Not that he’d want to leave you in this mess anyway. He sighs through his nose, staring at your half asleep form. You’ll hate him, but he has no other choice. He can’t risk it.

He can’t risk you.

He picks you back up, carrying you out of the ‘fresher. Something shatters under his boot as he crosses the living room, but he’s too focused to care. He leaves your house, grabbing your shoes before making the short journey back up the hill to his own home.

It’s dark and quiet inside, just as he’d left it. His steps are near silent as he heads back to his room, his own small sacred space. He lays you on the bed, your body curling in on itself as soon as it hits the mattress, as if you’re trying to revert to some early form, back when the world was safe, when you were unable to comprehend the horrors that were soon to cross your path.

You’re asleep, or past the point of being able to control your own body as you take little notice of anything around you. He tucks the blanket around your shoulders. The stench of alcohol is going to sink into his sheets, permeate the air in his room. He can wash them later.

He settles himself on the floor at the end of the bed, leaning against the door. You’d have to move him to get out. Even with the exhaustion settling into his mind, the likelihood of you slipping out unnoticed is very small. Hunter already knows someone else is in the house, and if by some chance he doesn’t, he’d know as soon as he heard your footsteps.

The likelihood you’ll remember any of the events from tonight are slim. You’re far too drunk. He’ll have to come up with something, a reason for bringing you here.

He’ll worry about that when the time comes.

You’re going to be angry when you wake, but if it keeps you safe, he’ll face your wrath happily.

***

Crosshair’s pulled from sleep, straightening up from where he’d been leaning to the side as you groan quietly. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, stretching out his legs. His joints pop uncomfortably, forced into one position for too long. He glances at the bed, watching the lump under the blankets shift. Your arm lifts above the blanket, rubbing across your forehead as you groan once more. He can imagine the severity of the hangover pulsing behind your eyes.

He pushes himself to stand, approaching the bed slowly. You blink blearily up at him, squinting slightly as if you’re trying to see him better. Your sleep-addled brain is still trying to focus, trying to process everything you’re seeing. The chronometer on the wall tells him you haven’t been asleep longer than a couple hours, and it’s entirely likely you’re still a bit drunk.

You slowly push yourself up to sit, glancing around the room, looking anywhere but at him. He can practically see the shame burning on your face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Your voice is rough with sleep or drink, or perhaps both. “It was stupid of me to think alcohol would solve my problems.” Your gaze drops to your hands like a guilty child waiting to be reprimanded. “You shouldn’t have had to go out of your way to help me.”

So you do remember. It takes him by surprise. Some parts, perhaps, he thought you might remember, hazily at most.

“I don’t want to die.” You say, taking his silence as an invitation to continue. “But can you really call this living?”

He narrows his eyes at your words. You are right. He can see the suffering in your very existence. The exhaustion that plagues you endlessly, that makes you the phantom he sees you as.

“I-I should get home.” You swing your legs over the bed but he grabs your arm before you can move too far.

You feel so frail under his touch, and he’s afraid you’ll crumble like a stone statue if he squeezes too hard. “Don’t.” He says, your body pinned in place by the harshness of his gaze. He releases your arm, turning to grab clean clothes from his dresser. He tosses them to you, your body barely reacting in time to catch them. “Clean yourself up, then have something to eat before you go.”

You blink at him for a moment, hand clutching the clothes he’d tossed at you to your chest where you’d caught them. Your head turns slightly towards the door as the sound of the others moving around in the kitchen draws your attention. You had been introduced to them by Phee, so they weren’t entirely unknown to you. They knew very little about you, though, and certainly wouldn’t be expecting you to be here.

“‘Fresher’s down the hall.” He says.

You stand on shaky legs, your eyes pinching shut as your hangover makes itself known once more. He’s worried for half a moment you may collapse, his body ready to catch you. You let out a long breath before you’re moving, stepping out the door. He waits until you’re gone before he’s changing, ridding himself of his alcohol-saturated clothes. He leaves his room, stepping into the living area.

All eyes are focused on him instantly. He’s immune to it now after years, and there’s no desire for him to react, not in this safe space. Not when it’s his squad. His brothers. They’re all wondering, they all want to know. Phee rarely spent the night here. Tech was more likely to be absent from their morning routine than to have it disrupted by the appearance of someone from the outside. For him to have brought someone in, have them here in the morning...he’s the one breaking routine.

Crosshair pours himself a cup of caf, Hunter staring at him from across the kitchen. Crosshair meets his gaze unwaveringly, giving him a telling look. He’ll explain later. He doesn’t want them to know while you’re still here. The last thing you need is for them to make a deal of it, to cause a scene, to give you those ridiculous pitiful looks, to shower you in sympathy. He knows the wrong kind of attention could drive you back to the place you were last night.

He can’t risk that.

You emerge from the ‘fresher nearly half an hour later. Crosshair knows much of that time had to be you working up the bravery to come out and face his brothers. Your hair is damp, cleaner than he’s seen it in a while. You’re swimming in his clothes, making you seem even more fragile than you already appeared.

They’re all staring at you, and he can see the heistance, the nervousness of having all the attention on you. You step up next to him, standing close enough you could duck behind him if you felt the need. He’s surprised you aren’t hiding behind him, facing his brothers bravely.

Omega is the first to greet you, breaking the silence. She greets you by name, despite the limited interactions she’s had with you. She’s always so perceptive, remembering names and details from conversations and interactions that even Crosshair missed.

"You're welcome to stay for breakfast." Hunter says. "If you'd like."

"That would be nice, thank you." You say, Crosshair noticing the waver in your voice. Hunter likely did as well, but he draws no attention to it.

Not that he would.

"Come on, you can watch holovids with me while we wait." Omega says, taking your hand to pull you to the couch.

And so their normal morning routine was back to normal. Wrecker joins you and Omega on the couch, Echo going back to working on breakfast. Hunter steps closer to Crosshair, giving him a look.

"She needed help last night." Crosshair says quietly, reading the question on his brother’s face. "It wasn't safe for her to be alone."

Hunter nods slowly in understanding. He'll get the full story later, but for now that's appeased him. He only worried about the safety of his family, not that you posed much of a threat.

Crosshair sits you next to him at the table as they eat, partially for a sense of comfort and security on your part and also so he could make sure you actually ate something. He doesn’t have to worry much, though. You seem perfectly happy to eat.

Conversation flows as it usually does around the table. You don’t partake much, not that he really expected you to, but he can tell you’re listening intently. So observant, so aware. Wrecker’s bellowing laugh makes you jump, but Crosshair is the only one that notices.

“How did you get here?” Omega asks, turning to you as she changes the subject.

The table falls silent, suddenly all eyes on you. You pause in your chewing, hand closing around your fork just a little tighter. He can practically see your thoughts racing, the nervous tension beginning to square your shoulders once more.

“Omega.” Hunter scolds, casting a sideways glance at the girl before turning back to you. “You don’t have to answer that.”

You swallow the food you had been chewing, obviously not expecting to be given the option. Most people wanted to know, and they asked without hesitation, without considering what they’re asking the other person to relive.

Crosshair can’t help but be a bit curious too. He’s not a nosy person. He doesn't care about others enough to bother knowing their secrets. The only people he cares about are his brothers, and he’s spent his entire life with them. There wasn’t room for many secrets among them, not even after his return. They knew about his excursions, and they were perceptive enough to decipher his curiosity towards you. Bringing you here likely only answered the question of just how close he’s gotten to you, even if they weren’t aware of the full story.

They would be. He would tell them. Not to earn you more pity, but in hopes they will share his desire to look after you.

You, however, he wants to know. He wants to peel back the layers like the skin of a fruit. He wants to know. He wants the answers to why you’re so broken.

Why you’re so like him.

He would never force you to share. He knows the pain of having to relive those moments. It’s enough having to see them every time you close your eyes. Having to speak them aloud only feels like a threat, like you may breathe life into them once more. Like they may happen to you all over again.

“No, that’s alright.” You say, putting your fork down. “No one’s really asked me before. Not that they’ve really had a chance to.” You shrug, the corner of your lips almost lifting into a smile but it drops from your face as quickly as it appears. “I, uh, I was from Devoth.”

Wrecker gasps dramatically, Hunter’s face falling in understanding. Crosshair’s chest clenches, things beginning to fall into place. So that was it. Devoth had been one of the worst battles in the last year of the war, no, the entirety of the war. They hadn’t been part of it, but he remembered hearing of it.

“What does that mean?” Omega asks, looking around at the sullen faces at the table.

“Devoth was a planet in the Muno system located in the inner rim.” Tech says. “It was a mostly peaceful planet under the Republic government. It was used as a mining colony for centuries due to the deposits of rare minerals under the planet’s surface.”

“During the last year of the war, there was a Separatist invasion.” Hunter says, cutting off Tech’s ramble of facts about your home planet. “The battle that took place there was one of the most severe in terms of losses. The Republic won the battle, but it came at the expense of most of the battalion and the planet.”

Omega looks at you, a horrified look on her face. You’re staring down at your plate, eyelashes fluttering like you’re trying not to cry. Your hand’s closed in a fist where it rests on the table, your entire body wound tightly.

“Most of the planet’s surface was destroyed.” You finally say, voice wavering just slightly. “I was home alone when it happened, when the Separatists invaded. My parents had gone to the city center that morning. We had no warning. It was just a normal day then suddenly there’s a droid army marching through our neighborhood. They pulled us all out of our homes. Marched us through the streets with blasters at our backs. They were trying to gather us all in one place.” You shrug. “I couldn’t tell you what they were planning to do, but it couldn’t have been worse than what happened.”

“What happened?” Omega asks, everyone at the table leaning closer subconsciously. They had only heard the stories from those few who survived, those who fought. They’d never heard it from the side of someone on the surface. Someone entirely neutral to the war.

You turn your gaze to Hunter, almost as if you’re asking permission to share the horror of what happened with a child. You won’t give all the details, he knows already. That’s far too intimate for your first real conversation with them. Perhaps you were trying to save Omega from experiencing the same trauma you had.

“The Republic arrived not long after the Separatists did.” You continue. “As soon as the gunships entered the atmosphere the droids started shooting at the gunships and at civilians. I think they were trying to get the Republic to call off the invasion by executing innocent civilians, but there was so much confusion, it didn’t work.”

“How did you survive?” Omega asks.

“Someone grabbed my hand in the confusion.” You say. “I don’t know who she was, but we ran for it. There were underground shelters built out of old mining tunnels all over the city. Devoth was known for sudden, intense storms during the rainy season, so they were built to offer shelter when the storms blew through the city. We made it into one of the shelters with a few others.” You shake your head. “I couldn’t even recognize where we were when we finally came out a couple days later. Everything was gone. It was like a storm blew in and wiped the entire planet clean. There weren’t even bodies left.” You hastily wipe the tear that falls, sniffling. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry you lost your home and your family.” Omega says, speaking with such compassion it stirs even Crosshair. “I’m glad you made it. You can be part of our family now.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you. I am lucky that I made it out.”

Hunter quickly changes the topic of conversation, sensing your distress. He won’t push you to continue, won’t push for more details. They’re capable of understanding the loss that comes with war, and the desire to leave it in the past. Crosshair knows there’s more to the story, however.

The rest of breakfast passes quickly, and despite Omega’s insistence that you stay longer, Crosshair knows you’re tired and overwhelmed. He escorts you from the house, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit as soon as you’re outside. The streets are busy and bustling already, but you don’t seem as tense walking beside him.

You almost seem human.

“That wasn’t the end of the story.” He says as you approach your house, slowing his pace. The Battle of Devoth had happened well over a year ago. A lot can happen in a year.

“No. It wasn’t.” You say, slowing your pace as well.

Silence reigns between you until you reach your porch, sinking down onto the steps. He stays standing, hovering over you. He stares at the top of your head as you look out into the street, past the inhabitants milling about their day and out into the distant cerulean ocean.

“We were in that shelter for almost three days.” You say, tugging at the cuffed hem of your borrowed pants. “The battle happened fast, but we were scared of what we would find above. We had no clue what had happened, who had won. When we finally got out, the planet was unrecognizable. We looked for anything we could find, but it had all been reduced to dust and rubble. There were a few other survivors, others that were lucky and made it into other shelters.”

He stays quiet, not wanting to give you any reason to stop. He wants to know. He needs to know. It’s like a sick fascination, a need to know just how broken you are.

“We tried to contact someone, anyone, but none of the comms were working. We all thought we would die there, but the pirates arrived not long after. They were looking for anything they could pilfer but there was nothing but us.” You finally look up at him, tears still sliding down your cheeks. “We didn’t have any choice. What else could we do? Stay there and starve or hope the Republic showed back up to look for survivors? We willingly walked ourselves into slavery.” You sniffle, wiping the tears from your face.

There’s a pain in his stomach that has grown as he listens to your story. He had never stopped to think of the horrors that the civilians, the citizens of the planets they fought on, faced too. It wasn’t their job. Their job was to fight and try to survive to the next battle. They didn’t think about the homes they destroyed or the lives they upended trying to prevent the droid army from accomplishing the same end.

He’d done horrible things under the Empire. Worse things. He remembers it all, even when he hadn’t been the one in control. He’d destroyed lives, enslaved others, killed innocent people. All for what?

“Don’t make me tell you what happened after.” You shake your head, the tears still falling despite your best efforts to wipe them away.

He doesn’t need to know. He knows enough about the galaxy to be able to guess what happened to you. He’s curious how you made it here, but he won’t push you further than you have been today. You’ve been dragged through enough in the last few hours. He doesn’t want to risk pushing you to repeat what happened last night.

“That’s why I can’t sleep.” You say, staring off out the window. “I can still hear them marching down the street. I close my eyes and they’re kicking in the door, dragging me out into the chaos. I can still hear the ships, the blasters, the bombs. Sometimes I don’t make it. Sometimes I can see my parents. Sometimes I’m back with the pirates. Sometimes I never escaped at all.”

Understanding washes over him like a wave from the sea. You’re beginning to make sense now. The rapid decline you had been steadily sliding down since your arrival here. Your struggle sleeping, the nightmares both awake and asleep. Crosshair feels the bite of loneliness in his house full of his brothers and Omega, but he’s never truly alone.

You’re entirely alone.

You had been alone when your life was destroyed, when everything changed. It was lucky that you survived at all. No matter how many times you were assured you were safe here, you were alone. Being alone was not safe for you. Being alone left you vulnerable to the horrors of your past, left you vulnerable to the horrors that may come through your door when you’re least expecting them.

He begins to formulate an idea, a plan taking shape in his mind. He won’t leave you to suffer alone. You had already proven you wouldn’t survive that. You don’t have to be alone here, but he’s well aware you won’t willingly accept help. You’re too stubborn for that, too ashamed of your own brokenness.

He’s not going to give up on you, leave you to suffer a cruel fate that could be avoided. You were so much like him, even if your experiences were different. He understands you, and you have the capacity to understand him. He can help you. He desires to help you.

Little do you know, you are capable of helping him as well.

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @anxiouspineapple99 @clonemedickix @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #x reader

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 1 year

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My Chapter 51 Thoughts and my thoughts around ShimaMitsu in general

So @mapoeggplant had a really cool discussion thread on twitter and I wanted to contribute to it. But I got very longwinded and now idk if the pics in my google doc even loaded... so I decided to share my thoughts here on tumblr as well!

Be warned, this post is littered with manga spoilers so if you are an anime-only or haven’t caught up to the most recent chapters, avoid this post so you don’t have the journey spoiled for yourself ^o^

Mika realizing something is up with Mitsumiー Mika is definitely a character that surprised me in how much I ended up liking her! Everyone in S&L I think is a subversion of popular tropes in manga’s past where on the surface they look like a trope and then boom, sensei hits us with a reality check and explanation as to how they are. Mika is clearly the ‘mean girl in shoujo who hates the protagonist by virtue of crushing on the male lead’. *Worry not, I’m aware S&L is a seinen*

But her maturity and growth over the series? Astounding. From reconciling with her envy of Mitsumi, Nao helping her come to terms with the idea of Mitsumi and Sousuke dating hypothetically in the future and becoming such a good friend? Love it.

So I love how Mika is the first to really notice that something is off with Mitsumi in regards to Sousuke.

Pretty sure that back in chapter 47 it was established that all of the girls have noticed something was off with Mitsumi. But they decided to respect her privacy because if she wants to tell them what’s wrong, she’ll tell them and they want to give her the chance to come to them first. Though they did express they were worried she wasn’t truly seeming like herself.

And the reason Mika starting to connect the dots this most recent chapter is so ‘big’ for me, for lack of a better word, is because it really puts into perspective how Mitsumi has been handling the breakup.

Mitsumi breaking things off with Sousuke was definitely a mature move. I’ve even been in the same position of breaking things off with a relationship because of feeling like the way we loved each other was different and it would be best to go back to friends. Then spending 2 years chatting with my ex as if nothing happened before having an emotional breakdown about it and needing two weeks of space from her before I could function around her. And it feels like Mitsumi is doing the same thing with Sousuke. But by virtue of Mika spotting Mitsumi’s discomfort in sitting next to Sousuke and starting to question things, it really solidifies how Mitsumi is processing things.

Like, Mitsumi telling Sousuke she can work on her own and such when he proposed the idea when she mentioned wanting to work to get Maharu a new wallet. She wasn’t just brushing it off and being all chill, kumbaya. She was more than likely trying to avoid him because she isn’t really ready to just be alone with him yet.

So I’m hoping in this arc that Mika is going to bring up what she’s noticed to Mitsumi. Because since she’s already processed her feelings, if Mitsumi were to admit to her that she and Sousuke dated briefly before she ended things it wouldn’t make Mika spiteful or anything weird like that. If anything, I think it would bring them closer together because if there is anyone who would understand the Sousuke-failed-relationship/rejection love pains Mitsumi is going through, it would be Mika.

Mitsumi & Sousuke (and Yasaka)ー

As for Mitsumi specifically, I think that her relationship with Sousuke as present is a ripple effect of Yasaka’s statement back during the chapter Mitsumi rightfully called Sousuke out for not standing up for her when she would definitely do it if the roles were reversed.

Immediately after that, we see Mitsumi beginning to contemplate what she said, her perspective of Sousuke and she doesn’t really know how Sousuke was raised, his relationships with his family etc. Like, she knows there is some drama there, based on the school festival arc with the play and running into Sousuke’s childhood friends and mother but she also acknowledges she doesn’t know the full story and how Sousuke came to be how he is today.

While Yasaka’s assessment did give Mitsumi the idea that she should keep in mind how she was raised and how others were raised paints how they become in the present, she is almost like… overly internalizing that and trying to be overly conscious of Sousuke’s feelings. And even the feelings of Maharu. I’m not sure I’d go as far as saying Mitsumi is blaming herself for what they are going through since so far I haven’t really seen anything that would indicate self-blame. The closest you can get to that is her scolding herself for expecting Sousuke to come to her defense just because they’re dating.

When, in reality, while Yasaka is right Mitsumi should keep in mind that Sousuke and her have different frames of reference and she should be considerate of that… Mitsumi was well within her right to be upset that her boyfriend was letting some mean girls shit talk in her face and made no effort to defend her.

Then the next time you see them interact in chapter 45, she essentially brushes that under the rug. She apologizes to Sousuke for getting upset, he says he is going to turn down their party invite and they go their separate ways… But Sousuke never actually apologizes for not standing up for her which, at least in Mitsumi’s eyes, would solidify the idea that she was in the wrong and was expecting too much of her at-the-time boyfriend.

This overly considerate behavior Mitsumi is now displaying even went as far as not wanting to tell her friends about the breakup and everything that led up to it because she was worried about how they would perceive Sousuke and possibly give him some sort of negative treatment in response to how things went. Not to mention, she’d rather just bottle up her feelings than cause a rift in their friend group they’ve had since first year.

When she breaks up with Sousuke, she goes above and beyond in reassuring him they have and always will be friends. Which while that is cool because the hiccups aside, they have a pretty great friendship, Mitsumi isn’t really allowing herself to feel hurt by the breakup and thinks that, while even if a large portion of it is that she and Sousuke’s ‘love’ is different her actions thus far would imply she thinks it is on her for expecting so much. (So I guess there actually is a good portion of self-blame from her, even if subconsciously!)

And with the most recent chapter, Sousuke gets to see how Mitsumi is hiding how hurt she is by Maharu’s rejection of her gift and her outburst that Mitsumi is only thinking about herself and to me his expression is almost like a parallel to his expression in chapter 46 when Mitsumi broke up with him.

In chapter 46, Sousuke needed comfort. He’s worried about being abandoned or viewed as worthless because he wasn’t able to live up to the ‘use’ or ‘idea’ Mitsumi had of him.

This time, Mitsumi needs comfort and it’s like this moment has essentially confronted Sousuke with the fact that she isn’t as cheerful, mature and invulnerable as she has presented herself to him thus far. So while yes, Yasaka was right in how Mitsumi doesn’t know as much about Sousuke as she thought she did, the reverse is also very true in that Sousuke doesn’t really know Mitsumi as much as he thought he did.

Sprinkle all this into the fact that Sousuke is going through his own whirlwind of emotions regarding Mitsumi, their breakup and how he feels about her. He’s jealous of Ujiie and how close he is with Mitsumi, he feels left out that Mitsumi hasn’t really been including him in activities outside of school and he was pouty and perplexed in chapter 47 about her perspective of the breakup going far as to pout to Chris and Ririka:

And Chris rightfully being confused because he doesn’t get Sousuke’s reaction since back in chapter 42 he didn’t even really know if Sousuke really even liked Mitsumi romantically (as proven by how, when Sousuke told him about the breakup, he automatically assumed Sousuke was dumper and not the dumpee). Now he wants to be closer to her while Mitsumi is essentially going ‘I want to keep everything chill and normal but at the same time I’m still upset and trying not to be next to him for extended periods of time just yet’.

Fast forward to chapter 51 and Sousuke’s in Mitsumi’s childhood home and feeling out of place/out of his element. So this is all the recipe for him to confront his own misconceptions of Mitsumi and, hopefully, apologize for his part in the breakup and how he should have stood up for her. Which we do see him do later in chapter 50 when she isn’t present, but Sousuke has the self-awareness to know and bitterly accept that if Mitsumi hadn’t called him out before he likely would have let them continue talking poorly about her.

Maharu & Mitsumiー Now onto Maharu~ I’m fully looking forward to her part in this arc because it is very clear that she is dealing with insecurities regarding herself and her older sister. Mitsumi has been confirmed by multiple characters that she is essentially a prodigy in her hometown and her hometown is being hit with a very real-life problem the Japanese countryside faces. Like, it is to the point where schools in the countryside are shutting down because there aren’t enough students to justify keeping them open because the young people are leaving for the city, not returning and not raising their kids there (which most people aren’t doing anyway due to the decline in birthrates in recent years for Japan).

Mitsumi even went as far as telling Sousuke her thoughts that she might likely be the only one of her siblings to even leave their prefecture.

We don’t really know how much Mitsumi is discussed back in her hometown, but it must be enough to make Maharu feel the way she does. It is just unfortunately manifesting in taking things out on her sister rather than talking to her parents about how she feels or even trying to discuss it with Mitsumi. Hell, talking to Mitsumi about it first probably won’t even help things come to a positive conclusion. As it stands now, Maharu’s perception of her sister is that Mitsumi looks down on her for getting out of the prefecture and going to the holy grail that is the capital of their country for school.

She needs an outside perspective that isn’t ‘tainted’ by Mitsumi.

Mitsumi’s friends from Tokyo are out because 1) they are Mitsumi’s friends and 2) Maharu already is feeling insecure and putting them on a pedestal because they are Tokyonites and fancy people.

Her family is out because Mitsumi is essentially their pride and joy.

And the chapter end with Maharu running into Fumi and while I wanna say ‘Fumi, get in here and rescue this sibling relationship’-

Fumi would still fall under the category of ‘tainted by Mitsumi’ by virtue of being Mitsumi’s best friend, even if Fumi has been shown to be very close to the Iwakura family. So I honestly think it could go either way with Fumi trying to talk to Maharu and help her vent how she feels, but Maharu could easily do that and when Fumi tries to be reasonable Maharu could think that Fumi is trying to take Mitsumi’s side when she is just trying to help give Maharu some outside perspective.

So that would basically summarize all of スキロー thoughts with the most recent chapter sensei has delivered us. I’m loving it all so far and looking very forward to what happens next!

#look she's not writing #skip and loafer #スキップとローファー #スキロー #iwakura mitsumi #shima sousuke #shimamitsu #egashira mika #toyama fumino #iwakura maharu #manga spoilers #skip and loafer spoilers #skip & loafer #skip & loafer spoilers #animanga thoughts

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orange-demons · 4 days

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we all love avatar/bosch, but i offer you avatar/ed as a concept, because i'm deep in the ship trenches

Ohh! Avatar/Ed is such an interesting ship. and srry for the wait! I didn't forget about you I swear! I honestly thought he would have more fics on tumblr because of how popular he is. And here I thought Bosch was the underappreciated one. Dude barely has 5 fics to his name. Also I didn’t know if this was a statement or a request, so I present you with some headcanons. Enjoy!

Ed doesn't want civilians getting caught in his fight to free people from Shadaloo's experiments. So he tells you that if you stay with him you may regret it.

He’s quite distant and cocky when he talks to people, so expect some push back when you try to get close to him.

That’s kind of expected when he tells you to get lost after you reached your full mastery with him.

He doesn't care about who you used to be or if you have regrets about the past, he only cares about the version of you in front of him. The You now.

His friends are important to him, they're like his family, so he would want you to be on good terms with them before he continues the relationship.

He hides most of his feelings behind a wall, but when he finds people he cares about Ed will develop a soft spot for them.

He's one of those people who can take a punch better than he can take a hug.

But that doesn't mean he'll push you away if you decide to be affectionate with him. He'll tense up at first, then he'll relax once he realizes you aren’t a threat.

Ed would want you to meet Balrog someday, and meet the man that shaped him to be who he is. Well...he'll bring you to him whenever Ed decides to reach out to him.

Every person who wields Physco Power uses it in a way to enhance their own individual skill. So he'll work with you to help you find your unique style to the best of his ability.

As your master and potentially your future bf, he wants to make sure you're not using Physco Power all willy-nilly. It's dangerous and he doesn't want you to get seriously hurt, despite you telling him you can handle yourself.

His observation skills are sharp so he can pick up small things about you that you probably haven't noticed about yourself. Like habits or certain mannerisms.

So he can tell when you really want something when your eyes linger on it for a split second longer. Which he ends up getting for you because he likes to see you smile.

Ed can also see when you want to be affectionate with him in public. He saw you catching glances at his hands when walking beside him. But you tucked your hands in your pockets after a while of contemplating. He reluctantly offered his hand to you, because as much as he hates PDA he likes you more.

He still has nightmares every so often that makes him wake up in a cold sweat, so please hug him and tell him everything's fine.

In SF6 there are hints of corruption in his KO win pose where he laughs manically. He snaps out of it fairly quickly when you point it out and gets ashamed for letting his emotions get the best of him.

As much as a hard ass he is, he appreciates it if you check up on him just like he does with you.

Like that fortune teller said, Ed is scared of losing himself and turning into something else. Would you even recognize him?

He does get concerned if he hasn’t heard from you in a while, which prompts him to go on a full-blown search. Even if you don’t think it isn’t a big deal, he does. So he wants to make sure you’re okay.

If you’re not feeling well mentally, he’ll lend his ear to you. He has his fair share of rough days, but if there’s anything he can do to relieve some of your stress he’ll do it.

On the flip side, he doesn’t want to pick fights with you but it sometimes happens when he gets frustrated. Ed has a lot of burden on his shoulders and it doesn’t help if you’re always sticking your nose in dangerous situations all the time.

He cares, he really does. It’s just that he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

Falke would knock some sense into him if he ever goes too far and forces him to apologize to you. Makes him get on his knees and everything.

Balrog was his unofficial official father figure so Ed picked up on some of his habits later on in life. Good and bad. And his inability to show his emotions without it turning into frustration is one of them.

He’ll try to tone it down for you in the future, but it is something he’s going to have a hard time with, especially since he’s already having an internal conflict with himself on a daily basis.

There are 2 types of kisses I can see him giving: short and abrupt or long and passionate. It depends on his mood and if he’s in public. He would hate to be seen as that couple who can’t stop locking lips at the train station. He’ll get embarrassed.

He would also want to spar against you and help you fix your form when you’re off balance. As mean as it sounds, he’ll make you fall on your ass and tell you to do it again. In his head, he’s teaching you how to be a better fighter. But if it gets too much, tell him. And he’ll adjust his demeanor towards you.

Like those cheesy romcoms. Ed would give you his oversized jacket when it got too cold outside. But don’t tease him too much about it because he’ll threaten to take it back. He won’t.

Ed roams freely at night, so most of your dates will consist of street food and fighting. He also likes to go to the movies with you and watch those shitty horror movies whenever he has downtime.

But ultimately, he’s never in one place for too long. And if you want to keep in contact with him, you better like long-distance relationships.

Because of the distance, he’ll call you at least once a day no matter where he is, because he wants to hear your voice. How’s it been? Are you doing okay? Any assholes giving you shit? Etc.

But similar to his father, if things get too dangerous on his end, he’ll contemplate cutting you off from his life.

He's the type of lover who genuinely wants the best for you, with or without him.

#street fighter x reader #ed x reader #ed x avatar #sf6 x reader #sf x reader #street fighter 6 x reader #street fighter ed #ed headcannons #street fighter #street fighter 6

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pixie-in-a-moonlantern · 18 days

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KILL ME LIKE A LOVER

Durgetash | explicit 18+ Enver Gortash x f!Durge / Halsin Silverbough x f!Durge smut, sex, p in v sex; homicidal urge, light bondage in a non-sexual setting, graphic threats of violence; prolonged emotional/physical hurt, comfort, fluff, love confession, 2 romantic relationships (separate for now, hinting at possible future poly f!Durge/Halsin/Gortash)

❗ Closely follows events of the first fic: I Don't Like You (Tumblr | AO3)

Read on AO3 for more context and comfort (I'll be very grateful if you toss me a kudo there as well, even if you read and reblog here ♥ - remember, fic writers share their work for free!)

13,795 words in 10 chapters

My Spotify playlist for this couple »

“You’re back,” he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. “And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful.” He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. “Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay?”

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

01 She walks escorted.

The Watcher walks beside me the whole way to Wyrm's Rock. I try keeping my head down, but any hope of not being noticed is lost with every thundering step the Watcher takes. People hold the Baldur's Mouth gazettes and point at the hallowed hero as she walks escorted to the City's would-be savior for an audience.

I wish I could just open up a portal to the Hells in the sidewalk and jump in. Gortash is going to pay for this one.

We finally reach the elevator to the audience hall and the stupid clanker squeezes in with me. I bulge my eyes, just about ready to go on a murder spree.

"Seriously? It goes straight up into the tower, where else do you think I could go?"

"There is no need for alarm, citizen," the Watcher assures me monotonously, not moving an inch. "I was instructed to deliver you safely directly to the Archduke, Lord Gortash."

"Would you chill with the 'Archduke' already?" I groan, head lulled back. "You know he's not one yet, right? No matter how many times you repeat it."

The Watcher doesn't respond. Perhaps Gortash expects such quips from people and instructs his hellish machines to not react. Or—perhaps if I was other people the metal hulk would just smash me on the spot for such a comment. Fucking tyrant.

What was even wrong with me when I willingly worked with this man, having just as deprived plans for the Sword Coast myself? Did I accidentally get lobotomized into a sane person? That would be one Hell of a joke on fate. And on Bhaal.

I imagine he must be simmering in his own rage, watching his prized child run around helping refugees. That little fantasy cheers me up. I lean on the side of the elevator and just chuckle to myself through the ride, mocking Daddy dearest in the relative privacy of my skull.

The Audience hall is deserted once more. The Steel Watch form a line in between the columns from the entrance to the dais on the other side, standing at attention. It's like some sort of welcoming ceremony, but just for little ol' me.

I reluctantly scale the acres of red carpet over stone flooring, feeling my chest tighten.

Gortash watches me as I approach, the remote-control suit of armor still stomping next to me. This time, he sits on the throne in all his grimy glory like the shameless usurper he is.

Except... he doesn't look grimy. Did he bathe again? What in the Hells does he think he can pressure me into doing?!

... again.

If there's a term for how his face simultaneously brightens and darkens, I can't recall, but that's exactly what happens. He's happy to see me and has very unsavory thoughts about it.

The Watcher only peels off my path once I'm literally at the lowest steps before the dais. I cross my arms over my chest and give Gortash my most unamused expression, even though my heart is racing with both fear and excitement.

He smiles as if he didn't notice it and opens his arms wide in a grand welcoming gesture. "My dearest assassin," he exclaims, voice warm like sunshine.

"Yeah, right, whatever," I roll my eyes. "So what, do I just stand here, like a pleb before their master, or did you have something civil in mind?"

He leans back in his seat and pats his thigh, a smirk playing around his lips. "You can always come sit on my lap."

Indignation and an unwelcome spark of lust flood my chest. I let out a bestial growl, not quite sure if I mean to intimidate him or my inner demons.

Gortash chuckles and, to my surprise, actually stands from his throne and steps down, until he's face-to-face with me.

It's hard to say whether he made it better or worse. I try to keep my gaze from wandering down his ridiculously low cleavage, but looking into his eyes is not much safer. They gleam with both smugness and affection and my stupid heart flutters.

"How lovely to see you, Nara," he drawls, sight approvingly gliding up and down my body. "I love how you chose to wear your custom made version of my gauntlet."

I sigh. I should've known he would bring it up.

I woke up on the nautiloid wearing that thing. I didn't remember anything about it, but it looked badass and was also quite useful. I store a healing potion in the socket and even the claws have come in handy in a pinch.

I didn't feel like getting rid of it when I noticed him wearing the same thing in Moonrise, because I grossly underestimated the significance. I just thought he set off a new trend among Baldurians and I wasn't immune to the allure. Happens to the best of people, right?

After I made the mistake of having sex with my ex, I figured ditching it won't help me anyway—if I do it now, it will only show him that I care.

"I didn't exactly have time to change for you, Gortash," I sneer. "You had your metal munchkin threaten me into coming here. It paraded me through the town, taking the busiest route. What do you think I am to you? Your lapdog? Your fucking mascot?"

Despite my derisive tone, he chances a step closer and my heart jumps up into my throat.

"You came to see me yourself first, remember? No one forced you."

"Well, at least no one saw me then," I bitch.

"Too bad," he bites his lip, coming closer.

He slowly, cautiously reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I grit my teeth in an effort to not show it, but I like it too much to make him stop. He smiles contentedly and keeps lightly touching my face.

"You're back," he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. "And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful." He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. "Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay? Nara?"

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

"Do your friends know what you did the other night?" he smirks, smarminess making its comeback in his voice. "Does your druid know?"

"I tell him everything," I say equally smugly, finally gaining some leverage. "He's the most wholesome man I know. He's not trying to own me or isolate me like some."

A shadow of irritation and disappointment dims the self-satisfaction in his face. Point for me.

"Karlach wasn't so understanding," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "She's worried about me falling for you. I told her it's a ridiculous notion, but she proceeded to make me feel better by describing how she's going to disembowel you if you hurt me."

He scoffs. "I can imagine. She always was a crude weapon. Effective, but crude. Nothing like your refined style." His gaze softens again when he gently combs the hair on my temple with the claws of his gauntlet. "You never used brute force, yet there was no one you couldn't break. I wouldn't have been an exception, but you stayed your hand. Against your father's explicit wishes, apparently."

"I'll break you right now if you want," I say in a trembling voice. His tone and touch are doing things to me. I'm getting scared and the Urge in me is trying to respond to the stress with violence.

His mouth stretches into a delighted smile. "I'm sure you'd like that. But so would he. I thought you were done being his good girl?"

My throat goes dry as I recall the night it all went awfully wrong. When I failed to do my duty one too many times. When I got my reward for disobedience.

"What Orin did to me," I croak, "was Bhaal's punishment for my refusing to kill you."

Once Gale understood the predatory patterns of his former lover, he got eerily good at interpreting gods' behavior. He gave me more answers than even Gortash managed to. Knowing this lifted a certain weight off my mind; I wasn't just discarded for being useless—I was being a bad murderer to Daddy and he decided to teach me a lesson.

Gortash's face goes slack for a moment, before darkening with realization. He didn't know. Or he didn't want to. It was easier to blame Orin's ambition.

"So, yeah, I'm done being his tool. If I do kill you, Enver," I'm the one to reach for him this time, running a fingertip down that enticing window of his shirt, "I'll be killing you for myself."

He gulps, fumbling for lost balance. "Incorrect, sweetheart. It was punishment for loving me. Not calling it what it is doesn't make it any less true."

"Did I, though?" I've had a long sleepless night thinking about it. "I was a naive, brainwashed cultist. Did I really choose you? Or were you just convenient? The only man around with enough balls to risk it with me, maybe? Or worse: the only one who figured how easy it would be to use me?"

I'm hissing by the time I finish the last sentence and I can see how close to home it hits. His chest heaves and he takes a few steps back, turning from me. I can't see his face, so I assume he's looking for a way to refute my accusations.

"I don't know."

His voice is so small I can barely hear it. Small and vulnerable, filled with insecurity. I'm once again reminded of the image I created of the little boy Gortash treated to neglect and betrayal instead of love, and I feel the telltale stinging in my eyes.

He slowly turns back, his expression a pure emotional chaos.

"I... don't know if you chose me," he says a little louder this time, but still sounds so... lost. "One day we just... were and..." His eloquence bends under the heft of his uncertainty. "It was so easy to be with you, so... natural. I..." He closes his eyes against the turmoil raised by the memories. "At first I figured you were just having a bit of fun rebelling against Bhaal, but... You were so amazing. So warm, when your Urge was satisfied. I've never... no one ever made me feel like you did."

The only things I knew of our relationship were what he told me. I imagined it a lot different than what it sounds like now, after he suffered a sobering blow to his ego. I can't know how much of this is genuine... but he suddenly painfully reminds me of Astarion, the way he fumbles in the dark as soon as his winning act falls apart.

I know he's not a good man. I've heard plenty about the things he's done—and is still doing. But how much of his flaws can I blame on nature when I also know what he's been through? He's a survivor. No one is inherently evil—not even me.

The people you surround yourself with have a profound effect on you. Even Astarion's worst traits are being slowly worn down in the unexpected acceptance he's receiving. If it had been Gortash who was betrayed, almost killed and taken, and then found by such a wholesome group of similarly afflicted weirdos, would he have remained selfish and cruel? Or would he have chosen a better path, like me?

"I thought I was a 'horrible influence' on you." I swallow hard. I shouldn't believe a word he says... but I do.

"You were," he shrugs casually. I find him a lot more pleasant without the air of fake grandeur. "We did wonderfully bad things together, things I wouldn't have thought of myself. But that was your heritage." He studies my face for a second, longing in his eyes. "No one taught you to be silly and fun. No one taught you to be gentle. No one taught you how to appreciate more than blood and guts in people. You bloomed with all colors like a flower, when we were alone."

I blink the tears away and hug myself. No wonder Bhaal got mad. He wasn't raising me to be gentle and fun. He wanted a devoted follower. He wanted to own me. And yet I seem to have found myself in someone else instead of him.

He couldn't smite him, so he took it out on me.

"Then why can't I remember any of this?" I whisper. "My murdering days keep coming back to me. But the picture where you should be is blank."

I don't expect it and certainly don't wish for it, but Gortash notices my discomfort and rushes to me. He takes my shoulders and squeezes them reassuringly.

"You are his creation," he says grimly. "He has the power to restore everything within you. It's clear why he chooses only the parts without me: for the same reason he had Orin attack you. You were a different person with me—a person he didn't like and didn't need. He won't let you remember me as long as your blood belongs to him."

I'm getting overwhelmed. I feel used, manipulated, trapped. I feel my fear and smell the scent of my blood as Orin's beating the life out of me, calling me slurs I've never heard of. I feel as if someone's invisible hand presses on my windpipe and I sense a dreadful but familiar presence.

"NO!" I'm shaking my head wildly, trying to push him out. The world seems to blacken around me, but I keep fighting. "I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR?!" I yell blindly at the ceiling, pulling on my hair.

YOU CAN NEVER BE 'DONE' WITH ME, CHILD.

I gasp when his voice thunders in my brain without having gone through my ears. It's deafening and it's all around me, smothering me.

YOUR CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION. GIVE IN. OBEY. BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO END YOU.

I shudder and shrink into myself, falling to my knees, cradling my head. I'm suspended in agony for several impossibly long seconds... then my vision goes black.

02 Daddy sets an ultimatum.

"...Talas... Talas!"

My head is pounding and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Someone's calling out my name... but it's not really my name.

"Nara!"

There it is. But it feels wrong. I feel movement, but can't tell what's happening.

"You know what," I grumble and I'm surprised to hear my own voice, "I've changed my mind. I hate the way you say it."

"Thank the devils," I hear Gortash snort. "As names go, exchanging 'Talas' for 'Nara' is a pure downgrade."

I open my eyes. Red mist is clouding my gaze. I feel thirsty and hungry. A rough palm cups my chin and a violent jerk runs through my body, making my teeth snap and try biting it. But the hand is strong and its grip tightens enough to hold me still.

"Easy now," Gortash hums, unbothered by my little attack. "You're safe. I'm safe. Let's work through it slowly. We've got all day."

I look up and find his face and it's the only thing I can clearly focus on. Everything else is muted, but his features are so sharp I squint at the intensity at first. But I understand. I know what I want now.

I want to kill him.

I grunt and try to reach for him, but I'm restrained. I look down through the red haze and see myself kneeling on red satin sheets. I'm still wearing all my clothes, but my boots, armor and gauntlet are off. The ties right above my elbows creak like tough leather as I strain against them, but I can clearly feel soft padding pressed against my skin. My wrists are bound in front of me. I can move, sit back, relax...

...but I need to KILL.

"Let. Me. Loose," I filter through my gritted teeth, almost foaming at the corners of my mouth like a rabid animal. Then a maniacal giggle gurgles in my throat. "And I'll show you something fun!"

"For fuck's sakes, you're beginning to sound like Orin," Gortash shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my dear, but if I'm not completely off my game, I believe you would regret it later. Maybe you would even cry for me?" His brows form a hopeful little arch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not keen on finding out, but I'd like to think you would."

I growl, pulling on my binds with all my strength.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Enver, come on!" I tease, baring my teeth, my tone dark, rough, vulgar. "I know you like the pain. I will cut you and slice you and bleed you real nice. You'll love it, I promise."

"Ssshhh," he soothes, caressing my face, skillfully evading my bites. "You can cut me when you calm down, Talas. You won't get to kill me today."

Anger jolts through me, hot like a branding iron. I lurch at him, uselessly dangling on the ends of the thick chains tying the leather cuffs to the bed frame.

"You will let me loose! And I'll tear you to pieces." My voice scratches like sandpaper. "I will slit your throat... and as you bleed out, I will lick blood off your soft skin." Growls turn to hisses. "I will drink blood from your sweet lips. I will shower in the thick stream of it as the last pathetic bubbles of your breath emerge and burst at the edges of the fresh cut. Then curl against your struggling chest to listen as your heart stops."

Gortash smiles as he listens, infuriatingly misty gaze softening his features.

"That sounds almost romantic," he purrs. He holds my hair firmly in his fist to keep my head steady and nuzzles my neck, slowly kissing a line from my shoulder up to my lobe. "I always thought the Urge was purely homicidal," he hums against my skin, "but is it possible you're mixing in your love and lust for me? Would you kill me like a lover?"

A chortle escapes my lips and I realize he's given me back a sliver of myself. I don't have the capacity to analyze if it were his words or his touch, but a tiny, heavily suppressed part of me suddenly knows what's happening. It knows this is not me. My Urge is spreading through me like a malignant growth, filling every inch of my torso, of my head, and that little piece of me is watching in horror.

No....

I let out a tortured moan and my head lulls back for a second. I can feel my body spasming and the agony is making it hard to keep my thoughts remotely clear. I hear my blood thrum in my ears, and a low voice speaks inside my skull:

It is wise to obey me. Yet you resist. You did not kill the Moonmaiden. You did not kill the druid. But you WILL kill the Tyrant's Chosen.

Or you will DIE in his place, child.

I feel tears trickle out of my eyes, even as my mouth is making raw, animalistic noises. The pressure in my temple grows so much I feel like my head is going to pop. It's excruciating, but I have no intention to submit. I fight with all my will, defiantly flipping off the god I didn't choose till the bitter end.

"En... ver," I squeeze through the teeth I grind so roughly my jaw hurts. My voice is but a wet wail, a desperate plea—but it's mine.

If I could focus on anything beside the blinding pain, I would see the alarm in his face. I register his hands on my arms, holding me upright. The sound of his voice carries over my head, but I can't distinguish the words. A high-pitched whine fills my ears. My vision fades to black again.

And I fully expect to not wake up this time.

03 We are still alive!

A chunk of void. A big skull in the center of it. Flames dancing in its eye sockets and around it. Almost playful.

I don't understand its meaning. Who am I, anyway?

Even though the skull is clearly before me, I can feel it surround me. It presses on my temples and squeezes my chest. I feel a headache of the century crush my head in its metal jaws.

A creature slinks from behind the skull. Hideous, covered in blood. Long body with a thick tail and four clawed arms. It hisses and chitters, spreading its toothy mandibles. Its beady little eyes are flashing with malice.

I cover my head with my arms as it jumps at me.

But it's not there anymore. I try to gasp, but a sick clicking sound comes out of my mouth instead. I hear rumbling laughter—the giant skull is pleased, it's mocking me.

I reach forward and instead of hands I see claws coated in fresh blood...

...and I wake up screaming.

There's water everywhere. I thrash and splash and heave for breath, but my arms are wrapped tight around me and my wrists and ankles bound. I accidentally splash water into my mouth, breathe it in and start choking.

Someone's big, strong, incredibly warm hands fish me out and steady me, patting my back, helping me cough. I hear a soft rumble, but this time it's not eerie and foreboding—it's familiar and soothing. A broad palm strokes my wet hair, humming comforting sounds in my ear.

"You are safe, my love. I'm here."

I lift my heavy eyelids and look up. Halsin's beautiful face is in my view and my heart is uplifted. He puts a cold compress over my forehead and I feel a little better.

"Halsin," I squeeze out of my burning throat, failing to make it sound as loving as I felt.

He smiles anyway and his eyes sparkle with affection.

"You will be alright, my heart. I will take care of you."

"I will too," I hear another voice and Gortash steps into view, obviously annoyed by Halsin taking all the credit. He's hugging his chest, nibbling on the ends of his gold claws, looking anxious and worried.

I finally realize where I am. It's Gortash's study. The flames roar in the fireplace next to the bathtub and all lamps are lit: it's dark behind the tall windows. Through the finally calm water I see my body, completely naked.

But none of those things are important right now.

"Come closer, Enver," I croak, failing to produce a seductive voice, sounding like a hag instead. "Untie me, let's have some fun. We haven't finished what we've started."

Halsin and Gortash exchange glances. It only ticks off my Urge. I flail back and forth in the tub for a second, trying to loosen the binds, but they were put on by someone who knew what they were doing. It infuriates me, tearing a ragged scream from my lungs.

"COME CLOSER, BABY, AND LET ME GUT YOU!"

"Nara," Halsin pleads softly, stroking my hair again, putting back the compress I shook off and adding one to the back of my neck. "You will get through this, I promise. The tepid water and the cold compresses should help lower your blood pressure, so you don't suffer an aneurysm. You popped many blood vessels before you passed out. That's why Gortash called me here."

I feel the Urge let up just a smidge when the cool rags press on my aching head and Halsin's voice and touch give me comfort. I try to breathe deeply and steadily. But no matter how hard we both try, it's no use. I take one look at distressed Gortash and the pull is back in full strength.

"Have you experienced this before?" Gortash asks, doing his best to ignore my rabid growls.

"She woke me up in camp several nights ago," Halsin nods somberly. "Refusal to kill Isobel redirected the Urge at the person closest to her heart, as punishment. She came to me before it overtook her and put her trust in me. It lasted the whole night, but she won in the end. But it was not this bad..."

"He..." I try to utter words that are not permitted to leave my lips. I fight my own muscles to continue. "Said... He... Dies or... I do."

Halsin's brows join in surprise and he glances at Gortash again, whose face darkens even more.

"Sounds like we really pissed Bhaal off this time. She screamed at him, defying him, before the Urge took over. I was just an outside observer, but I figured he was communicating with her. Seems like we know the gist of the conversation now."

"What were you doing?" Halsin wonders.

"Nothing much," Gortash shrugs evasively. "Talking. Talas was learning more about our past, about how and why she came to such an unceremonial end in the cult. Said none of her memories of me returned to her. Clearly Bhaal's job."

"Nhhhnnnhhhng!" I add my gold to the discussion, thrashing in the tub again. I'm glad I'm at least able to follow their words, even though I can't contribute. Sweet images of me running my hands through Gortash's spilled guts flash in the back of my mind, but they're just white noise.

Halsin wipes my upper lip with a troubled expression. He lets go of me to touch the air in that divine way of his, to call upon Silvanus, and pulls healing energy out of nowhere, pressing it to my head with the broad palm of his hand. I breathe a little easier for a few moments.

"If this goes on for much longer, I'm afraid even I might not be able to help you," he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to mine. I gulp and just moan in response, hoping my intonation will convey my thanks.

"I don't suppose we could trick the Urge somehow? Have her stab me a couple of times and then knock her out, and when she comes around I'll be lying in a pool of blood and... You get it."

Halsin chuckles in amusement.

"You would just let her stab you? Are you a masochist, or just so in love?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gortash growls defensively. "We have a problem. I'm offering a solution. If I had to die, I'd prefer it to be by her hand, but I plan no such thing just yet."

"I do not think it works quite like that," Halsin shakes his head. "But thank you for the offer."

"It's... my fault she's like this." Gortash's discomfort at admitting responsibility is evident. "I don't want her to die. So if you have ideas, I'll do anything to help."

"You can help me right now, Enver," I screech, failing to restrain myself. "Come here! Come and make love to me. But don't forget to untie me and bring me a knife. I'll show you a little trick! You'll be positively drained after I'm done with you."

"Perhaps the best thing you can do to help is to get out of her sight for now," Halsin suggests and only a touch of derision reaches his tone.

Gortash frowns and grumbles something under his breath, but takes his leave. There's only Halsin's broad form next to me now, effectively shielding me from seeing Gortash. My Urge immediately eases up and I lean back on the headrest, exhausted from fighting my own muscles.

It doesn't last long, though.

"Halsin?" I coo, swallowing hard as I feel another crushing wave of twisted need.

"Yes, my heart?" He bends down to kiss my forehead. It doesn't work as well as before, but I manage to hold back the instinct to bite.

"I love you," I tell him while I can still form words of my own choosing. "And I'm grateful for everything you do for me. Don't take this personally, but now that you're getting in my way of killing Gortash... I'm beginning to want to kill you, too."

He pulls away, but not far, and studies my face. I can see so much compassion in his eyes, but they're tired and he looks older. He wipes my upper lip again and sighs.

"This is going to be another long night, isn't it, my love?"

"Halsin, stop," I mumble weakly as he prepares another spell, looking more and more sapped every time. "Please. Just... let me go."

I'm so run down. The pain is debilitating. In the rare moments of peace, all I can do is float. My mind is fried, my organs struggling to keep running. I've had enough.

But the worst is the thought of accidentally pulling Halsin under with me.

"Do not even start," he growls. His voice sounds dry and spent, but he collects the healing energy and once more fixes some of the damage the high blood pressure has done to my vessels.

I want to cry, but I don't have the strength to do it. But I notice something: it's been really quiet for some time.

"Where's Enver?"

"He is... off trying something else."

The evasiveness would normally make me inquire, but the Urge lashes out again, spasming my body, forcing more horrible words out of my mouth.

"I WILL SKIN YOUR LUSCIOUS PELT, LITTLE BEAR! I WILL WEAR IT ON MY BODY AS I WATCH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PUT YOUR GUTS BACK IN YOUR BELLY. I WILL—"

04 Unbearable lightness of unprecedented fluff.

I feel like I must have died when I open my eyes and nothing hurts anymore. The world is soft and quiet, the water around me like a blanket, the dim flickering lights enhancing the peaceful silence. Perhaps this was the afterlife.

"Welcome back."

I don't recognize the voice at first. I slowly turn my head to find Halsin—

—but I look into Gortash's worn out face, languidly blinking at me. I see a giant bear slumped on the rugs by the bathtub, exhausted from keeping me alive.

I watch Gortash in fear for a little moment. But there's no tug, no agony this time. I only feel... slight elation. My weary heart flutters, tapping into its last reserves of power.

"Enver," I whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I feel his palm cup my cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. Tears stream down my face, but I can't gather enough strength to sob.

It's over. It's really over. At least for now.

"Sshh," he coos quietly, combing my hair. "Do you feel like you can handle moving to the bed? I'm afraid you'll melt if you stay in that bathtub for much longer."

I take a few breaths and nod. The instant I move, I can feel all my muscles scream in protest, but I push myself through it. He's right, my skin is getting tender from soaking so much, I can't just sleep here anymore.

He unties me and that's when the ache in my arms and hands joins the party, making me whimper. I've struggled against my own body for hours and hours with only short reprieves of unconsciousness. It's taken a heavy toll. But I'm alive, and so is everyone else.

My legs are so wobbly I slip back into the water a few times, splashing around, sprinkling sleeping Halsin. His snout twitches and I hear a grumble, but he doesn't wake up. Poor thing.

Gortash is trying to hold me upright, but his angle is all wrong, standing next to the tub. But on my fourth try I manage. I just lock my knees and hope it'll be enough for a minute. I notice the water in the bath is surprisingly fresh after housing me for so long, but it's already draining—someone must've changed it several times during the night.

I gasp in surprise when warm drops start raining down on my head and shoulders.

"Another handy technological marvel," Gortash smiles. "Just try to keep yourself on your feet. Let me wash you."

He takes a sponge and a bar of soap and begins slowly rubbing my skin under the gentle, refreshing shower.

I'm too busy keeping my knees locked and staying awake to have any deep opinions on why he's being so caring. My foggy, tired mind is simply enjoying his attention.

He's gentle and thorough and doesn't shirk from any part of me, but doesn't linger for longer than necessary. I mistily welcome the muted rush of excitement his touch gives me and close my eyes, fully trusting him like I only could with my marbles scattered all over the floor.

"Mmm," escapes my lips. I don't know words, but apparently I can make sounds.

"Sit back down, I'll wash your hair," Gortash commands softly.

I sit curled up, my eyes shut, jaw slack, little mewls of pleasure coming out of my mouth. His fingers caress my scalp in circular motions, coaxing some blood back into my skin. It melts away my tension and feels so good against the leftover headache that still throbs in my skull.

Gortash picks up the shower head and rinses the shampoo foam off my hair. It finally hits me that it smells like him. I let out a quiet chuckle. Doesn't he have a special flower scented bottle for his feminine conquests? Maybe he just likes marking them this way.

He helps me stand back up again, dabs me with a towel and then wraps me in a robe.

"Come here, princess," he murmurs and pulls me into his arms.

And he carries me to the bed. I don't think I would protest even if I had the energy. I may be a strong independent woman... but this is nice.

He pushes a tray of food and drink to me and we both eat in silence. I can't force much into my wrecked throat, but I thirstily guzzle all the water and wine. The slight buzz is not helping my overused veins, but it does wonders for my cramped muscles.

Then I lie on my side, watching him freshen up and change. I finally have plenty of time and no capacity for shame; I take in every detail of him I can spot. The toned muscles of his legs. The line of fine dark hair on his chest going to his groin. The way his thick hair softly reflects light when it's crisp clean. The pleasant, earthy color of his skin. Every glance he tosses over to check up on me.

My heart flutters again. I gulp hard and convince my eyes to close, so I can't see any more of him.

Suddenly the mattress beside me sinks and I can feel him next to me. The warmth from his body envelops me, his scent fills my lungs and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. My poor blood pressure spikes again and I try making my gulps for air subtle, but I can see the delighted amusement deepen his crow's feet.

"Sleep," he sighs, studying my face. "You need to rest to get your strength back."

He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses my temple. His skin is soft and warm, but his short stubble and rough palms leave a tickling sensation that's driving me wild. I inhale a lungful of him and press my mouth to his jaw, testing the scratchy surface against my lips.

I can hear his breath quicken and feel his hand move to my shoulder and rub the silk of my borrowed robe. I take his face in my hands and bite this time—just a little, letting my teeth graze the stubble, enjoying the sweet scratch—and I hear a moan.

I forget myself. I forget who he is. I just want to keep tasting his skin.

His mouth is on mine. I hungrily welcome him in. His hand roams my body, kneading my flesh—mine frantically search his every surface, unable to decide where to stay. Perhaps I'm just cold from exhaustion, but I feel like he's radiating more heat than an average human being. I bathe in the warmth, pulling myself as close as possible.

The way he pulls air in through his teeth when I bite his lip is like music to my ears. How is this man so edible? He drags his fingertips across my face and I suck his thumb into my mouth. The low rumble of his chuckle travels right to the knot in my lower belly and my eyes roll back.

He presses me flush to his body, molding my flesh, and I let out a feral groan, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair and pulling. I need him. I need him now.

His mouth moves to my neck, but he doesn't kiss and nibble like I want him to, he takes me by the nape and immobilizes me. I can hear his ragged breath in my ear as I blink in bewilderment.

"Talas," he exhales desperately. "I know your opinion of me has taken a sharp dive... but I don't fuck mentally compromised women."

He lets me pull away and I stare at him in doubt. He snorts, shrugging.

"Alright, I guess sometimes I do," he admits, "but I just know you'll wake up in the morning with your wits intact and hate me for taking advantage of you."

The hum of blood in my ears quiets down as I swallow my disappointment. Tears sting in my eyes; I can't tell why, but I feel robbed. He sighs and pulls me closer again, but only to hug me.

"I've missed you so much," he whispers into my hair. "I don't want to ruin this." Running his fingers through my hair once more, spreading soothing tingling over my skin, he rocks me gently. "Sleep. I promise I'll make it up to you later... if you still want me to."

I can barely hear his last words, but I sense the uncertainty in his tone. The pressure around my chest tightens and I wrap my arms around him and hold on. The pleasurable hormones surrender the stage to the exhaustion in my muscles and bones. I feel myself falling asleep even before my consciousness drifts off.

05 Warm bodies.

The soft light creeping in through my closed eyelids rouses me gently, but I'm so tired everything still feels like a dream. I cling to my drowsiness and try to go back to sleep again.

Then I feel a warm palm on my hip, stroking the silky fabric covering me.

I shift slightly, moving into the touch, and the hand slowly travels across my back. Another joins it, caressing my thigh. I moan quietly, reaching out for a body to hold—

—and I find two. Both are very warm and my hungry touch is ecstatic to feel each pressed to one side of me. I gently squirm between them, rubbing myself against soft muscle that eagerly responds in kind. Their musky scent is both soothingly familiar and enticingly erotic. I can hear two breaths and two sets of soft sighs as I let my palms feel my way across their skin.

I open my eyes and meet Gortash's sleepy eyes watching me. My heart jumps up into my throat and I jolt into a sitting position. I turn to find Halsin on the other side—probably crawled onto the bed when he felt strong enough to move again.

"Shit," I mumble under my breath, quickly removing myself off the satin sheets.

"And it was just getting good," Gortash laments wistfully, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

"Seriously? Jokes?" I pull my robe tighter around my body, suddenly self-conscious about being completely naked under a thin layer of translucent fabric, and prop my hands against my hips. "Did you even realize you were groping me right next to my partner?"

"As I recall, you were enthusiastically groping me back, sweetheart," he smirks. "A few hours back you didn't mind making out in front of him."

I gape mutely at them both for a second.

"I was out of my mind!"

Halsin groggily drags himself off the bed and holds me close, patting my back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," I hum into his chest.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, my heart." He kisses the top of my head.

I push away to look at him sternly. "Yes, there is. You've spent your whole night taking care of me at great cost to yourself and the first thing I do when I'm finally okay is this? Not even my mental state is an excuse. I only want to make you feel loved and safe, not uncomfortable and uncertain. I don't deserve you."

Instead of appreciating my commitment, albeit failed, I see pain flash in his eyes.

"Halsin?" I sniffle, my chest filling with dread. "Please don't leave me."

His expression melts into a touched one. He cups my face and smiles softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he rasps. "Not until you decide otherwise, my love. You have nothing to fear. I will always be by your side, for as long as you'll have me."

I feel tears trickle down my face, the relief mixing into my terror tapping a generous stream.

"Now I'm sorry," he sighs, futilely trying to wipe my tears away with his fingers. "I misunderstood. I thought..."

He didn't have to explain. It didn't even come to mind at first, but I figured it out.

"You thought I would replace you with him?" I chuckle through the turmoil in my chest. "Not in a million years."

"Yes, don't mind me," Gortash growls and removes himself from the bed as well. His face looks like it's carved from stone, cold and hard. We both watch him as he locks himself in the next room, leaving us alone.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Halsin says quietly and I can hear commiseration in his voice. "He really is in love with you, sweet thing."

"Well, I'm not in love with him," I snap. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."

I'm still raw from the suffering Bhaal has inflicted on me, and the realization of just how much my heart has softened towards Gortash puts me on edge. The possibility of hurting Halsin through another bit of my unfortunate past just piles on top of that.

"Far be it from me to push you towards another man," he smirks, mild amusement creeping into his expression. "But I don't want you to limit yourself on my behalf, Nara. I thought you understood that I don't wish to own you." He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. "If that is what you need, you are free to be with anyone else to any extent you deem necessary for your happiness. I only want you to be safe and happy by my side. That is my only goal."

I close my eyes and let him lean his forehead against mine.

"You know that's my goal too, right?" I mumble.

I can sense he doesn't believe my words—never have. But I haven't figured out why. I really mean it. He's the ray of sunshine in my bleak days. I want him to keep shining at all costs, even if I'm not the one basking in the beams.

"You deserve all the joy you can get, my heart," he whispers. "Do not make me the one to stand in your way. I will always wait for you to come back home to me."

I swallow a new wave of tears. "Then let's go right now."

"No," he sighs. "I will go. You seem to have unfinished business here. When you are ready, find me in camp. I believe you are safe here, at least for as long as you don't try to kill him first," he chuckles.

"I just might," I grouse. "He's playing a dangerous game here. I didn't think he'd be so bold to try to seduce me in front of you. Didn't he notice how big you are? Doesn't he think you'd rip him to pieces if he pisses you off?"

"I think he knows he has a chance." Halsin gives me a slightly patronizing glance, likely getting tired of my refusal to acknowledge my weakness. "Doesn't he?"

"I don't want to have anything to do with him," I repeat, but my voice falters.

He smiles, presses his face to mine and inhales deeply. "I can smell your arousal, little duck," he chastises softly, combing my hair with his fingers.

"That's for you, too," I frown, a little embarrassed, recalling the unexpectedly pleasant first moments of my morning.

"I know," he nods and this time I can tell he's certain. "But you two have history. Unless you explore this road, you might spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'... I don't want that for you. I don't want that for myself. Whatever you do, I would like you to be sure that you're not missing out on something. I will be here if you decide to come back to me."

I have no more to say. I let him press a kiss to my lips and watch him exit the room. I don't follow. I keep standing where he left me, hugging my shoulders.

"I can't believe you actually stayed."

I whip around to find Gortash in the doorframe, dressed and tidied up, shaved and smelling fresh. He's leaning on the doorframe and though his face is still grim, his swagger doesn't seem to have suffered irreparable damage.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Enver," I sneer.

"Oh, don't be crabby, baby," he purses his lips in mock comfort. "You landed such a perfect boyfriend. I'm jealous, now I want one, too. Hurry up and break his soft heart—maybe he'll be interested in me instead."

"I'm not breaking his heart," I spit. "I love him."

That sentence makes him wince, but he recovers in record time, smirking like the bad boy he is.

"Then maybe I'll break it for you. When he's no longer there to enable you, will you run back into my arms?"

I don't realize I'm moving before I have his stupid tall collar bunched up in a fist, pushing him against the door. I bare my teeth, my nose a hair's-width away from his. My tortured muscles protest against such treatment, but the rush of adrenaline outvotes them.

"Touch him and I'll kill you," I hiss into his face. "Stone or no stone."

The initial flash of surprise, even fear, is quickly replaced with a seductive smile.

"Gods, I missed this fire," he grunts, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush to his body. "Too bad your devotion belongs to another now."

I tear from his grasp, gritting my teeth so hard they squeak. I don't know what else to do; hurting him only gave him twisted pleasure. So I stomp off to the bathroom, looking for my things, so I can leave this cursed place already.

06 Payback is a bitch.

I dress up in my clothes that feel like they've been freshly cleaned and pressed, and complete my morning routine with the conveniently offered supplies left in the bathroom for me. As I put on my gauntlet I have to stop and lean against the sink. My thoughts are spiraling.

Remembering all that I've done since I arrived at this tower is making me hyperventilate. Gods, I really did nearly jump Gortash's bones. My reason was clearly damaged, but... Gathering my wits didn't erase the desire. I still want him. I hate everything he stands for... but I can barely resist him.

I stare into my scarred face in the mirror, hoping to understand my own mind. Even if I really used to love him in the past doesn't mean I should now. It physically hurts me to imagine Karlach's probable response to that. And Wyll's. And everyone's, really. Apart from some of my companions who would prefer to take control of the Brain, or even to actually team up with the Tyrant's Chosen, none would approve.

"Oh, fuck me," I mumble.

I close my eyes for a few long seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. It doesn't help; my mind is serving me memories of Gortash's gentle, respectful touch, in blinding contrast to what I thought I knew about him. How does that happen? Was he just that good at playing me? Or was it genuine?

Poor Halsin. Perhaps the thing that scares me most is his disapproval. Would he stay by my side if I succumbed to my twisted desires? Would he be open to sharing me with a man who doesn't care who he abuses as long as it serves his power-hungry agenda? Even he must have a limit to what he's willing to tolerate.

I slam my hand against the mirror and growl. I feel like I'm being split in two. One part will not let go of the beautiful, peaceful vision of what life can be with Halsin. The other... the darkness in me, one that has nothing to do with the Urge, craves to be nourished, to be recognized and utilized, to be accepted.

Can I have both? Or is that just a mad hope of a lobotomized freak?

I need to get out of here, now.

I rush out of the room, then into the Audience hall. I'm hoping it's deserted and no one will notice me leaving, but Gortash is once again comfortably seated on the throne, his alert eyes on me the second I come into his field of vision. I slump my shoulders and frown, turning to him.

"Hey, look," I choose a neutral tone, nonchalantly hooking thumbs in my pockets, "I gotta go. We have lots to do in the city. There's a vamp that begs to be staked, a pregnant hag on the loose, and also Orin's not gonna kill herself."

"Ah, yes," Gortash drawls, getting up and slowly sauntering towards me. "You're very busy. The slayer of Ketheric Thorm. The hero who's lifted the Shadow Curse. Pretty impressive."

I purse my lips, glaring at him. Of course he figured out it was us who exchanged his planned article in Baldur's Mouth for a puff piece on us.

"Yeah, it would be a shame if we were slandered instead of celebrated, don't you think?" I nip sarcastically.

"Why do you think I made you come here, my dear," he tosses me a sour grin. "You get in my way, I get in yours. You'd do best to remember that."

I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I actually considered thanking him for what he'd done for me tonight, but I'm not in the mood to do that anymore.

"Yeah, yeah. If you're done threatening me, mind letting me go? Like I said, lots to do. You want the netherstone, or not?"

Gortash stops maybe an inch from me and leans in to whisper in my ear: "You're not a prisoner here, sweetheart."

A powerful shiver runs through me, so strong I can't possibly hide it. His gaze slides down my body and lips twist in a delighted, sinful smirk. My breath hitches at the sight of him and his scent makes my throat go dry.

He pulls back to a little more respectful distance. "But I thought you might want to have that brunch on the balcony I planned for us yesterday. Don't worry," he chuckles, "I had my cook make us fresh food—birds seem to have eaten the last batch, anyway." His gaze lingers on my eyes, gauging my thoughts. "It's sunny outside. I want to sit with you, talk and enjoy the view from this tower."

Still reeling from the mind boggling reaction I'm having to his closeness, I swallow hard. 'What's the worst that can happen' isn't even a question here. I know what can happen. I know what my body, my own treacherous body, wants to happen. But maybe... just maybe... if I spend more casual time in his presence, this assault of hormones will stop.

After all, there's nothing more off-putting than really getting to know the horrible man you're attracted to. Could be just what I need to get over him.

07 What's the worst that can happen?

I let him lead me onto the balcony. Any thoughts get knocked out of me as soon as I lean over the stone wall and stare at the city stretching below us.

I've only spent two weeks here since we arrived, and from up-close it never quite seemed as grand as people tend to describe it. It's big and loud and overcrowded and smelly... But it seems gorgeous from this high above. No wonder Gortash wants to settle up here permanently.

I don't appreciate the thick atmosphere of this place. I miss the clean waters and animal white noise of the picturesque location the nautiloid crashed in. Even the Underdark is breathtaking in its menacing way.

This doesn't feel like home anymore. It's familiar, but I'm a different person.

Much like what I could say about Gortash. The fact that we used to be a thing shouldn't mean that we have to be it again.

I have so many questions it feels like a chunk of anxiety is balled up inside me—I don't even know what to ask specifically, I just know I need a lot of answers. I want to understand what happened between us and how. And how can a man so callous, so cruel to everything else be so gentle and sweet with me.

I have to know what game he's playing. Is he hoping to weaken me? Stab me in the back as soon as I kill Orin and take both the netherstones off my cooling flesh? Was any of what he showed me real?

"Heavy thoughts, Talas?"

I sigh and turn away from the view to see him comfortably sprawled on an actual rug stretched over the stone floor.

"Couldn't get a blankie?" I quip, shaking my head. "Your ass get too soft?"

"Well, since I don't have to live rough anymore, I just don't do it," he chuckles, tapping a spot next to him. "Come have some comfort, too. I imagine you're not used to it anymore, being on the road for so long."

"I think I pretty much forgot what comfort felt like when that Myrkulite bitch of a torturer got a hold of me," I say dryly as I make my way to the picnic. I immediately see the change in his expression and his fists clenching.

I sit down and stretch my legs in front of me. "Do all your Absolute lackeys respect you this much, or was she special?"

"That's still under investigation," he growls darkly. An image of his most loyal soldiers beating information out of the slightly less loyal soldiers crosses my mind. "The nerve on her. The nerve on Ketheric. He should've told me."

"I guess plotting to take over the world doesn't make for the best bonding time," I smirk, picking up a chalice of wine.

"True," he nods, deciding to wash his rage down with some wine as well. "This is not a circle of trust. I even had to kill a number of my own for being too ambitious. Mostly when they tried to assassinate me to take my place. Or get to me through you."

"Hm," I grimace, not ready to believe I was so important to him that he wouldn't sacrifice me in a blink of an eye if it brought him enough reward. "How do you know I won't kill you? Bhaal sounded pretty determined. He'll try again. You might not get so lucky this time."

"He won't. Not until you get rid of Orin."

I raise my eyebrows at him and toss a few grapes in my mouth. "How would you know?"

Gortash pauses, looking away, squinting at the sky.

"Last night I told her what was happening, got her properly pissed off. I promised you would come to her, which is what you want, anyway. She went to talk to him, to convince him she's capable of defeating you. I hoped she had the pull—and it looks like she does, because it worked. Bhaal wants you to ritually combat her at the Temple just a smidge more than he wants me dead—and can always make either of you do it later."

He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone as if he didn't just confess to virtually saving my life. I gape at him mutely, wine forgotten half-way to my lips.

"Well," I chuckle in disbelief, "I'm stunned that you didn't brag about it immediately."

"I knew you would see it as bragging, no matter when I told you," he rolls his eyes, chugging his wine. "So I wasn't going to. Until you asked."

I shrug and nod, admitting that's true. I'm always ready to believe the worst of him. Just in case.

"But you should know." He turns to me, face serious, gaze intense. He takes my hand and squeezes. "When Orin is dead, he will sic you on me. It won't matter what you feel or what your agenda is. This time he'll have no reason to relent, he will have one of us dead."

He sighs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear with the same tenderness I tasted last night. His eyes are warm and gentle.

"If nothing else works... I will let you kill me," he whispers and my breath catches in my throat. "Which is why I suggest you keep your word and we finish our plan together. If we're successful, we might have enough power to keep him away from us."

I watch his hair flow in the breeze around his face. He lets go of my hands and looks to the sky again, as if the endlessness of it helped him feel like he has more options, more freedom.

"So, at the least, we have until you kill her."

His voice is so heavy, raspy, wistful, I shiver again. He doesn't even suggest that we actually stay together or anything... he's just contemplating the near future, counting down days until he might not see me again. Or live.

"You would just let me kill you?" I ask, suddenly reminded of Halsin's similar question from last night. Gortash brushed it off then and I was too busy trying to survive, but it hits differently now.

I see his throat jump as he gulps. He seems to mull over his answer. Then squeezes his eyes shut.

"I began hatching the Absolute plan for my sake only. I wanted power and control. But then you came..." He flashes me a glance, almost shy. "And things changed. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. But I started to work towards a different goal. I wanted to make this work for us. Make the world the perfect place for us to be happy in. To do whatever we want, to have all the comforts, all the fun."

He pauses for a long time. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember something, anything, so that I could confirm his words, but the memory of him is still as incorporeal as before.

Before I figure out how to react, he speaks up again:

"I didn't know how differently it could end," he rasps and I'm in shock to notice his eyes getting somewhat wet. "How someone could hate me, hate you, so much that they would tear us apart and destroy everything." This time he looks at me steadily, though I can see how much effort it takes him to not let his sight run away again. "I love you, Talas. We were having so much fun I hadn't realized it... until I lost you."

I rapidly blink in utter bewilderment. My heart squeezes hard. I feel tears fighting their way out of my eyes. I can taste bitterness in the back of my throat. As if the only thing I could remember about our past is how heartbreaking it was to be separated from him like this.

And I realize that I believe him. It makes sense. Bhaal's ultimatum revealed one thing: this murder was personal to him. I really must have been in love with Gortash before my disappearance. Enough to make the Lord of Murder feel threatened and want our bond broken.

And I'm beginning to see why—to see past my initial impression of him, past his flaws and sins. It makes me scared. What happens if I give in to it, even if just for a little while?

But just how much time to decide do I really have?

08 Innocence of a guilty man.

Turns out, I don't need much time at all.

Gortash's confession was so raw it's impossible for me to stop thinking about it. He's quiet as we eat our breakfast, and so am I, but my head is buzzing. The alcohol doesn't help hold my walls up, but I don't think being sober would save me now.

'We only have until you kill Orin.'

That could be mere days. We've only just arrived, but already met her more than once—sniffing around, gauging our weaknesses, snickering maniacally and giving us the creeps. If we don't strike first, she will. Not to mention the ticking clock that was the tadpole wriggling in my head, threatening to turn me into a tentacled monster the second the Brain breaks free of Gortash's and Orin's control. We are all screwed if we don't find her soon.

My mind ambushes me with slightly fuzzy memories of last night. The way Gortash washed me, the way he carried me to the bed like royalty, the way he cared. I don't have to run away and marry him in secret to enjoy him. I don't have to make any promises at all.

I can just have him one last time. Whatever happens next.

"Well," I peep, nervous about what I'm going to do, "since we're full, alone and have the time... maybe we can... uhm."

Gods, I'm awful at flirting. I'm so lucky Halsin decided to approach me first. We would still be hungrily circling each other if he hasn't.

To my utter dismay and embarrassment, Gortash laughs out loud. "You haven't improved one bit," he shakes his head.

"Shut up," I grunt, trying to hide in my hair.

He props himself on one elbow, reaching for my jaw, caressing me and pulling me down to him for a kiss.

"Your best line so far was 'I would love to carve you up real slow,'" he smirks, coaxing me to look up. "Fortunately, that worked like a charm on me."

My brow crinkles and I burst into vivacious laughter. It makes me feel better, more at ease. I guess I didn't change that much.

"Gods, it's been forever since the last time I heard that laughter," Gortash sighs, stricken.

He attacks my mouth voraciously, making me gasp into the kiss.

It's different than before. It's not libido that drives him this time. There's pain behind the layers of need. Pain of long separation, of deep grief, of lost hope, of impending death. He's virtually inhaling me, as if he would love nothing more than to blend into me.

I feel dizzy and compelled to return the kiss with the same intensity, even though I'm running out of breath. I don't want to hold back anymore. What good would it do me to fight my feelings when this is the last time I get to have him.

His skin is much smoother after the morning shave, but I can still feel the faint remnants of stubble gently scratching me. I run my fingers all over his face, trying to imprint every shape of him into my damaged brain. I come across the scar on his chin and the sensation feels more familiar than ever. I know I've touched this scar before.

His hand copies my movements, tracing my scars. They must be new to him; Orin left them on me when she tried to kill me. He remembers my face when it was still flawless, yet his fingers are feeling my new imperfections with reverence.

"Bleed that bitch slowly," he rasps against my skin. "Savor the kill. You deserve a sweet revenge for this."

"I wish I could do the same to Bhaal," I reply breathily.

"So do I, my love. So do I." He pulls away a little, skin flushed, eyes misty. "Let's go inside. It's chilly here, you might catch a cold."

I squeeze my eyes shut, half wanting to laugh, half crying. I feel him get onto his feet and the next thing I know I'm in his arms, carried like a princess once more. I hug his shoulders and hide in his neck, nibbling hungrily, making his breath catch as he's walking towards his study, gait a bit wobbly.

My legs are weak too—I nearly buckle as he puts me down by the bed. I steady myself holding onto him, while he's doing his best to keep my armor and clothes intact as he's pulling them off my body in ragged, desperate moves.

He pauses with his hands hovering over my offered gauntlet.

"What?" I wonder. "Think you won't be able to enjoy it without me hurting you?"

He tilts his head, squinting in the distance. "I don't think we've ever tried that."

"Just take it off," I say and put his fingers on my wrist. "If it's not enough, I can always use my nails."

"To be honest," he raises his eyebrows pensively, "I don't think I even care. I just want to be with you."

He shakes the metal off my hand and tosses it to the floor. Then his eyes find his own, with the glowing netherstone adorning it.

"I promise I won't steal it," I chuckle. "At least not until I have Orin's."

He doesn't seem to appreciate my teasing. He takes the gauntlet off, but quickly puts it in a small, sturdy looking metal box and locks it inside.

I roll my eyes. "Still don't trust me, Enver? Did I use to fuck people just to get their precious stuff and favors? I thought that was more your style."

"Just a precaution against whomever else might be sneaking through the tower," Gortash smirks and returns to me. "You weren't even interested in fucking until you met me," he touches my face. "Granted, you didn't have many eligible choices around you, with your father keeping you in dark tombs among abominations. But I taught you everything, little lover."

My breath hitches a little at the realization, but I gulp the shock down.

"Well, then I guess I'm glad you've been sleeping around with so many of your noble conquests. Would hate to be taught by someone inexperienced."

He laughs with his eyes shut, then sighs and pulls me into his embrace.

"Oh, Talas, don't be jealous. There's no need to drag nobles into my bed anymore. I did try to drown my grief in a few... but it never helped. You were my first in months."

I blink at him, stunned by his words yet again. "Explains why you looked like you hadn't bathed in weeks at your inauguration." I swallow hard, distressingly aware of his enticing scent now.

"I've let myself go a little, yeah," he admits with an amused grin. "My company didn't mind. I thought Ketheric smelled like death, but then I met Orin." I snort and he joins me. "That faint stench of rotting flesh makes me want to gag. You, though..."

He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, pulling off his clothes. "You." He inhales a lungful of me, groaning. I shiver, closing my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and lets us both collapse onto the bed. Our limbs tangle, skin grazing skin, our mouths lock in a thirsty dance of tongues. It's a strange feeling, like being with him for the first time, even though it's far from it. I'm not fighting him, not resisting unwelcome desires, not trying to pretend this isn't what I want... I give myself to him willingly and eagerly.

09 Your fingerprints all over me.

He pulls us higher and flips us over, so he could lean on the head of the frame with me on top. The unexpected exposure makes me flinch. I'm still getting used to showing all of myself even to Halsin, and this... I haven't had time to decide how to feel about it. But the way he watches me makes me shudder. His gaze worships every inch of me, his fingers following closely after. So I lean into his touch and close my eyes, letting my mind rest in the soft waves of pleasure.

"How are you even more breathtaking than before," Gortash whispers so quietly I'm not sure he even meant to be heard.

I look down at him, using the rapidly depleting brain capacity to study his face some more. I didn't think he was capable of such adoration. I'm trying to hold onto my healthy doubts for the sake of everyone who's put their trust in me, but it's getting truly difficult.

So I choose to focus on the rest of him instead. On how he makes me feel.

I let my hands wander over his body, enjoying the inexplicable electric sensation of touching his deliciously mocha skin. Making him shiver as I run through the fine hair on his chest he so likes to show off. His muscles are defined just the right amount, well hydrated and comfortably soft. The little love handle on his tummy makes my mouth water and my hips grind against him wantonly.

He groans and grabs me by the nape to pull me into a ravaging kiss. I lift off his lap just enough to help him slip inside me. I cry out softly, unable to hold back the sweet tears of ecstasy.

My needy mouth devours him. He holds my hip in a firm grip to help me ride him. The fingers of his free hand dig into my back, desperately pressing me to his chest, but the hurt they cause isn't physical. I don't want to look into his eyes, I know they will bewitch me.

But I fail and let his gaze swallow my soul.

I can't focus on kissing him anymore. I just lay my forehead on his shoulder and keep rolling my hips. I feel the crushing orgasm closing in when he rakes my hair and starts murmuring in my ear:

"I love you, Talas. I love you."

I let out a sob as it hits me like a wall. I'm not screaming or moaning—I'm crying. My heart is breaking, my soul is splitting... Yet, in the midst of my torment, there's mind boggling ecstasy shooting through my body like lightning.

He caresses my back, letting me ride out the last of the tremors, while I latch onto his mouth again, mixing his intoxicating taste with the salt of my tears. He doesn't seem bothered, drinking my inexplicable sorrow eagerly, thirstily.

I collapse onto his warm chest and keep softly sobbing into his flesh.

I remember now.

"Are you alright?"

I don't respond for a long while. I just keep slowly rolling my hips, not letting him stop making love to me. He listens to my intentional body language, running his fingers gently all over my skin, and lets me deal with it in peace before I'm ready to speak up.

"I love you too, Enver."

The leftover reason in my brain gags its mouth in horror. But I know that it's true. It's been true the whole time, I just didn't know, being stripped of all my memories of him.

The memories didn't return per se. Only feelings. I was a drooling mess, and still my heart yearned for something I lost. Someone I lost. I doubt I could even recall his name or his face... but I knew I needed him.

"Please," I sniffle, finally dragging myself up to look at him. "Make me forget how I know this. It hurts."

That strange sucking feeling in the center of my chest suddenly makes sense now. I've had it since the crash. My head was empty, but my heart ached for him.

"Talas," he whispers, cradling my head. I watch his eyes well up like mine.

I kiss him, letting him tangle his fingers in my hair. He presses my face closer to his and drowns in my mouth. When we're out of breath, he leaves my lips to travel up to my cheeks and eyes, kissing away every tear.

He wraps me in his arms and smoothly rolls us over, pressing my back into the red satin sheets. He holds my hands above my head and I expect him to get rough—I wouldn't mind having this gnawing emotional anguish knocked out of me with a delicious pounding I know he's keen to inflict.

But his fingers lace with mine and his eyes watch me with tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. He's not done fighting for me.

And I'm not done being loved by him.

I hold his gaze, studying the specs of color in his irises. I let out soft moans as he languidly moves inside me and kisses my mouth without breaking eye contact. And when my body begins buzzing, building up to another mind-shattering climax, I whisper his name. The first one slips from my lips accidentally, but as my mind clouds I get bolder. When my body spasms and my toes curl, I scream it over and over in between waves of ecstasy.

His gaze never wavers—up until his own finish catches him unprepared, drawing a surprised, tender whimper out of him. His body quivers, uncontrollably shooting hot seed inside of me as he holds me close, encasing me in his arms like something fragile and precious, moaning my name into my ear.

Mind blank, I just lay, limbs wrapped around him, not willing to let go. We stay like this, gently caressing each other, panting, cooling off. It's not until we start getting uncomfortable that we're finally forced to let go.

"How would you feel about having a bath together again?" Gortash suggests, his roguish smirk gracing his lips once more.

I'm all sweaty and sticky and full of his load, so I nod.

I don't want to leave just yet. Going back into the real world means being faced with responsibilities and morality. It means remembering what a menace this man is to the city. It means considering losing him forever if he decides to stand in our way. I'm not ready for that. Not after I had an emotional charge the size of an extinction-level catastrophic event go off in my chest just minutes ago.

10 One last chance.

Gortash fills the tub with hot water and takes me by the hand. But it seems like I'm not quite ready for this, either.

Come on. It's just a bathtub. The only place that's actually filled with horrors is your own head.

And I recall all the tenderness and care that happened around it, as well. Two diametrically different men doting on me, sacrificing their strength and favors for me. The thought further eats away at the walls of my poor heart.

"Need some help?" Gortash glances at me, evidently understanding my hesitation. His arm snakes around my waist and he kisses my temple. "Come on. I'll be in there with you. Promise not to tie you up this time—unless you want me to," he chuckles into my hair.

I snort and relax a little. There was really nothing to be afraid of; Bhaal was taken care of for now, there was no reason for my Urge to come out this soon. But my legs won't work.

"Yeah, I do need help," I sigh, draping myself over his shoulders.

He tosses me a wicked grin and picks me up. "You're getting used to this fast."

"It's a nice thing to get used to," I shrug innocently.

"You know you got heavy?"

"Maybe you got out of shape," I narrow my eyes at him, then we both laugh.

I almost don't notice how he submerges both of us in the pleasantly hot water. My heart thrums in my throat for a bit, but then Gortash starts rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. I let him do it for a while, then close my eyes and lay my head in the crook of his neck.

"Thanks for saving my life last night," I mumble and I really mean it. "I was ready to beg Halsin to mercifully end me. Wait, no, I did actually beg."

I feel his palm run along the side of my face, then his fingers combing my hair back in soothing motions. "It's the least I could do after putting you in danger. I'm so sorry, Talas."

"It wasn't your fault," I sigh. I know what he means, but... when two people fall in love, neither of them should be held responsible for the disproportional reaction of their relatives.

"I still can't believe how close you were this whole time," he rasps and I his hands ball into fists. "Bloody Ketheric. What a low, petty revenge for making him feel uncomfortable and redundant during our Absolute meetings."

I snort. "How were we getting on his nerves so much?"

I feel his chuckle reverberate into me through my back. "You used to like sitting on my lap and making out while he was speaking. And whenever you spaced out during discussions, or simply didn't have an opinion, you would always back me up, not even listening to his arguments."

"Oh," I grimace. "We were very dismissive of him. I'm not surprised he felt affronted."

"Oh, Talas." I hear exasperation in his voice. "He kept you in his dungeon as a toy for his deranged 'scientist' and let me believe you were dead. He deserved to get his tongue ripped out and be beaten to death with it. Would you really just forgive him?"

"I'm kidding," I turn to him, eyes still closed, and plant a kiss on his chin. "I hate his fucking guts. I'm just sad I wasn't able to make his death proper fun."

"There she is, my Bhaal-babe."

"We've met all of his children," I growl. "All cursed and deranged, almost begging to be put out of their misery. The man couldn't give two fucks about any of them, beside precious Isobel he raised from the dead in exchange for their lives, with thousands of innocent souls on top. He didn't deserve redemption and he knew it."

There's a long pause and I can feel Gortash tensing up.

"Do I?"

That knocks the breath out of my lungs. My eyes open wide, but I only stare into the distance.

Why would he even ask that? He didn't seem remorseful of his many, many sins. He looked straight in Karlach's face and looked pleased with himself. He tadpoled Wyll's father and shipped him who-knows-where the minute he got him to surrender his title. He subjugated a whole city and prepared to wage a fake war on it, just so he could pronounce himself its savior.

And those were only the deeds we knew about so far.

"Do you think you deserve it?" I deflect the question back at him, unsure how to respond. Suddenly I'm aware of how naked and defenseless I am in his presence again.

"Shh," he rubs my arms, noticing my discomfort. "I didn't mean to make you bristle up. In the end, Ketheric was left with no one who supported him out of their own free will. I know how depressing that is—I was in the same position before you returned. There's a big difference between doing things because you know you're alone against the world, and doing things for someone you love."

I scoff. "Well, if that's how you operate, how about you give me the stone and help me clean up this mess? Because that's the only way this," I gesture between him and myself, "is going anywhere. You know that what we just did doesn't really change anything between us, right?"

I can see the hurt in his eyes—but no surprise. He knows. He's just probing for another option. Or trying to manipulate me. Whichever.

He decides to abandon the topic. "We've never done it like this before," he studies my face. "You changed so much."

"Enver," I sigh, feeling almost bad for him. "How do you still want me back, when I'm not even the woman you remember?"

Silence. He evades my gaze, watching the sunlight behind the tall stained glass windows. He doesn't seem to understand it himself.

"I guess you've given my life more meaning than anything I've ever done before."

My heart and eyelids flutter, touched more deeply than I was willing to admit.

I know what that feels like. I could've let my Urge dictate my path, succumb to the thirst for blood and death, do what I knew to do best. Instead, I've found myself in people around me, people of varying degrees of 'good' who sometimes struggle as much as I do.

I've found purpose in keeping them alive. In helping them denounce their gods, avenge their traumas, fix their mistakes, save what's important to them. In loving them as much as they've grown to love me. They healed me in ways medicine and magic could never have done on their own.

They saved me, and now I would rather choose death than let a bloodthirsty god take control over my life again.

Perhaps Gortash would do the same...?

I don't dare to guess. Not until I see the change with my own eyes, in action, when I present the choice to him with Orin's netherstone in hand.

Because I've just decided that I will do just that. Despite everything he's done, everything that deserved grave, and likely final, punishment, I will allow him one last chance to do better.

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