#she’s closed off and cold. to her companions. to the people she saves. the one’s she fights.

[itsmetheabnormalone]

Am I the only one who doesn’t have a favorite Doctor? I always say 11 is my doctor, as in he’s the one who brought me into DW (first face this face saw 💜), but I couldn’t rank them if I tried. In the end, they all blow me away with their own interpretation of the character and their own quirks.

#I always start out being sceptical #and sometimes it takes a while for a doctor to grow on me #like 12. I needed a season. but now I every once in a while I watch his regeneration scene to feel sth lol #bc I absolutely love his principles. I even have the 'hate is always foolish and love is always kind' written on a light on my desk #I love this whole 'am I a good man' storyline #with 11 I loved the exploration of his arrogant and dangerous side #that man wanted his name to be heard all over the universe. he wasn’t as smiley and bubbly as everyone makes him out to be/ as he pretends #in german I’d say größenwahnsinnig #9 being this light and fighting his way back to optimism while holding so much darkness within #he was the least toxic imo. he never would’ve hurt his companions (which the others have. we must admit they’re kind of an ass at times) #13s biggest battle being the script and not getting enough characterization imo is kinda iconic bc she still managed to give us a doctor #she’s cute and bubbly but reckless/careless #she does things that get people/aliens killed or hurt and just goes on as if nothing happened #she’s closed off and cold. to her companions. to the people she saves. the one’s she fights. #don’t get me wrong yes she’s nice and funny with them all but that’s it. she can’t let anyone in and seems to be just running #and while I usually am not a fan of romance #Tenrose has my heart #the whole found family thing he had. the 'i need people or I become a monster' #the way they all found a different way to portray his anger and how he’s dangerous #9 was full of hate when he was angry #10 was like a fire burning to hot and that fire never really stopped burning not even in his calm moments imo #the flame just became smaller #11 was arrogant and cocky. he hit way below the belt and at times didn’t even care who he hit. #12 just wanted to be anything else than actually angry. #sure he was grumpy but actual anger only came out when he was forced by the ziogons or Me #only when lifes were at stake. no arrogance or similar. #doctor who

[clangenrising]

Month 10 - Leafbare

A few days of sunny weather had thawed the heavy snow and caused the huge piles to dwindle down to slushy dregs. For the first time since the kits had started walking, Smokyrose felt comfortable letting her daughters out to play. Fogkit had been bouncing around the den for days, begging to go explore and meet people, but Smokyrose had insisted that they would be far too cold to have fun if they went. In truth, she didn’t want to risk either of them getting sick, especially after what had happened to Nightfrost. 

But today the sun was shining warmly on the camp and she had no excuses and she was just as eager to hand them off to someone else as they were to have some fun. 

“Alright, my darlings,” she said, ushering them forward with a gentle sweep of her tail, “Remember the rules: Don’t go over the hills and stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay!” Fogkit squeaked, bowling forward into the clearing. She stopped, squinting against the light with her tail straight up in kittish excitement. Slatekit started forward, then paused for a moment before hurrying after her sister. Smokyrose watched them go with a mixture of pride and weariness, and not just for the usual reasons. 

She couldn’t help but look at the two of them side by side and imagine her walking with their father. She sighed and wondered if the ache for him would ever cease. The ache for Currentseeker had waned, she reasoned, so maybe time would ease this wound too, but it didn’t feel like that would happen any time soon. 

“Ooh! Look at this!” Ospreymask called as she slipped out of the healers’ den, Branchbark limping along behind her. “Hello there, girlies!” 

“Ospweymask!” cheered Fogkit. Slatekit gasped excitedly. 

“Look at you!” the warrior purred, bouncing over and batting the tiny kits around in her paws. They shrieked and squealed with laughter and Smokyrose smiled. Confident they were in good paws, she moved to the top of the warriors’ den to settle in the sun and warm her bones. Aldertail was already sitting atop the flat stone and looked up as she approached.

“Ah! H-hi there, Smokyrose,” she said, shifting her weight anxiously. 

“Hello, dear,” smiled Smokyrose. “Don’t let me disturb you at all, I’m just coming to stretch my legs.”

“O-okay,” Aldertail nodded and gave one of her forelegs a few firm licks. 

Smokyrose spread herself out on the stone with a relaxed sigh, one ear tilted to listen absently to her daughters’ laughter. “How have you been settling in, dear?” she asked and Aldertail sat up suddenly. 

“Oh,” she said, clearly having let her thoughts drift. “Um, good- uh, well, I mean. Everyone has been so kind and- and generous to me.” She glanced over at Ospreymask and the kittens 

“I’m glad to hear it,” purred Smokyrose. “I know the Clan is better off with you in it.” Aldertail blushed, ears sliding back, and she buried her nose in her curled forelegs. Her only reply was a small squeak that Smokyrose assumed must have been a thank you. She chuckled warmly and let out a satisfied groan as she pushed her stretch. Her back popped and she sighed in relief, melting back down into the warm stone. Kitting had taken a toll on her body that she hadn’t expected and she wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same again but on days like today she could almost believe it. 

The sun was a gentle companion. The wind was soft and quiet, largely shielded against by the camp’s sloping hill. She looked over to where Ospreymask was wrestling with the girls and smiled, thankful as ever for the warrior’s never ending exuberance. 

“Ack!” Ospreymask cried as Fogkit accidentally stepped on her face very close to her eye. “I’m out numbered! Branchbark, you gotta save me!”

“Sorry,” Branchbark grinned impishly. “I’m injured, remember?” He waved his left paw in reminder. The wound was no longer bandaged, mostly just a nasty, dark scab and a greenish bruise underneath his short brown fur. 

“Coward!” Ospreymask wailed, flopping underneath the kittens. Slatekit and Fogkit giggled to each other and then Fogkit went in for the kill, chomping down on the side of Ospreymask’s neck. The warrior hissed in pain and pulled away. “Hey, hey, gentle! Remember, we’re just playing.” 

“Oh,” Fogkit jumped back, wide eyed. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Ospreymask smiled, leaning in to nose the kit’s forehead. “Just be careful next time.” 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Slatekit’s tiny voice asked, barely audible from where Smokyrose was sitting.

“Yeah, I’ll be right as rain,” Ospreymask purred, hooking her into a hug with one paw. “Unlike Branchbark, I can take a bite like a champ.” 

“Hey!” he frowned, “That’s not fair.” 

Ospreymask cackled and flicked her tail at him. “You’re so easy!” Fogkit joined in with her laughter, snuggling up next to Slatekit with a wiggle of her tiny haunches. Smokyrose sighed fondly. What precious things, her girls. She tried to ignore the aching that came with the thought. 

“She looks just like him,” Aldertail murmured and Smokyrose inhaled sharply, looking over at her. Aldertail shrank with fright as she realized what she had said. “Oh! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-” 

“No, no,” Smokyrose hurried to reassure her. “It’s alright. She does.” She’d forgotten that Aldertail had known Ghost. Curiosity suddenly gripped her and she found herself speaking, “Do they often?” 

“Hm?” Aldertail tilted her head in confusion.

“His kits,” she said softly. “I’ve heard he has plenty. Do they often look like him?” 

“Oh,” Aldertail said, her own voice softening to a whisper. “Sometimes. The girls are usually torties, the boys are fifty-fifty.” 

“I see,” she nodded. The thought that there were kits just like hers wandering around the two-leg place was still hard to conceptualize. A desire to speak with their mothers tugged on her heartstrings. She wondered if it would be possible to find them all, to let them know they weren’t alone, to find out what they knew about him. 

“How long did you know him?” Aldertail asked carefully.

“Since the spring,” Smokyrose smiled, “So… six or seven moons.” 

Aldertail nodded. “There were rumors he had a new dame but nobody knew who. People said you were a wild cat with blood on your teeth and strange magic that stole his heart.” 

Smokyrose couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, my! Well, I’m flattered but no, no. I’ve never even had any battle training.” 

“Really?” Aldertail asked. “I thought all of you did, at least a little. Branchbark has been trying to teach me a few things but I’m not very good.” 

“Most Clan cats do,” she nodded, “but some cats choose other paths. Like Sagetooth and Oddstripe, they’re healers so they spend their time practicing medicine instead of combat or hunting techniques.” 

“But you’re not a healer, are you?” 

“No, I’m a mediator,” she said proudly. “Since I was little, I’ve studied how to settle disputes and work out problems. When two cats or two Clans have disagreements, cats like me help find a solution that makes everyone happy.”

“That sounds hard,” Aldertail winced. 

“It is,” Smokyrose shrugged, “but I love it. If you wanted, I could teach you.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” Aldertail said, and Smokyrose already knew she wasn’t interested, “but I’m more scared of talking to cats than I am of having to fight one. Thank you though, I don’t mean to be rude!” 

“Not rude at all,” Smokyrose shook her head. “Mediator work isn’t for everyone.” 

“Mama!” Fogkit’s voice called out and she turned her head again, “Mama look how tall I can stand!” The kitten was rearing up on her hind legs, trying to stretch her arms above her head, which was slightly impeded by Slatekit trying to cling to her like a shield. She kept falling down and then rearing back up with an energy that Smokyrose wished she could still muster. 

“Look at you!” she called. “You’re so tall, Fogkit!” The kit beamed and Smokyrose felt another surge of fondness mixed with aching. She wondered if their father would find the display as cute as she did or if he would ignore them entirely. She dreaded to think what his indifference would do to her kittens, if he indeed felt it. 

She glanced at Aldertail, who was staring at Fogkit with a grimace made from fear and pity, and had to wonder what had been done to her to make her so afraid of Ghost. What had he done to the cats under his charge? What had he hidden from her? She decided she didn’t need to know. She and her kits were safe in RisingClan and she would raise them to know every single minute that they were loved more than they could ever know. She hoped that would be enough.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Smokyrose #Ospreymask #Branchbark #Aldertail #Leafbare #clangenrising #Fogpaw #Slatepaw

[overly-dramatic-artist]

Week One: Introduction!

@encanto-extended-edition

OMG how have I never done a proper introduction of my girl??? Anyways…

Full name: Angela Leilani Yaamil Morales Estrada

Age at the time of the movie: 48 years old (December 8th, 1901)

Angel was initially a name holder for the reader insert in my fic, “Why did it have to be me?” She was never intended to become a full fledged OC, but thanks to several supportive friends, Angela evolved into what she is now.

Angela is born to parents Guillermo and Anamaria in 1901, and shortly after childbirth, Anamaria sadly passes away, leaving Angela to be raised primarily by Anamaria’s parents, Quinuama and Raymundo. She is the youngest of six cousins on her maternal side, and she knows very little about her father’s extended family. The passing of Anamaria puts Guillermo in an inconsolable depression, leaving his daughter to be brought up by her grandparents due to his emotional absence. Her family owns and runs a tailoring shop in the Encanto, renowned for their fine fiber arts and beautifully crafted clothes. Angela is best known for her impressive bead work and crocheting, as she enjoys fixating on tiny details.

At age five, she befriends the Madrigal triplets, the four of them becoming close companions, but especially between Angela and Bruno. The two of them grow close over the years, considering the other to be their best friend. I’ll save the juicy details of their companionship for Week two, but to summarize, their friendship takes a dramatic twist following the breakup of Angela and her fiancé when she is 19.

Following in her mother’s footsteps, she joins the church choir at a young age, and quickly blossoms into a vocal star, devoting her time to organizing musical events and writing songs. Later in life, she takes to traveling outside of the Encanto, something inside her yearning to know more about the world and escape the limitations she feels trapped in. She gains herself a notable reputation as a performer in multiple social clubs and lounges, her name taking her across South America, and eventually across the sea.

Angela’s personality and mannerisms are based a lot on my own. She is extremely caring and compassionate for others, but often has a hard time deciphering her own emotions, and will usually bottle up her complicated feelings to save herself from causing trouble. She is often lovingly criticized as being overly dramatic by her family and friends, causing her to become extremely cautious and anxious about how she presents herself to others. Sometimes, something small will set off her temper, and she gets very cold and unresponsive as a defense mechanism, or if something makes her deeply upset after a buildup of repressed feelings and stress, she will fall apart into tears. Often times, her stimming gets interpreted as flirtatious behavior, and her attempts at masking usually have the same effect (hair twirling, too much eye contact, smiling and nodding).

A few little bits of information and trivia:

The bracelet she is almost always seen wearing was gifted to her on her fifth birthday. It had originally belonged to her mother. It is made up of pearls, jade, and a thin gold chain. Her rosary is constructed of similar materials.

Leilani was her intended name in canon, as Guillermo wanted to name her after his mother, but Anamaria immediately called her baby ‘her angel’ when she was born, so the name Angela was chosen instead and Leilani was bestowed as her second name.

I imagine her voice sounding like that of Angela Aguilar when she’s younger, and evolving into a vocal powerhouse like Beyoncé or Selena.

She is terrible at cooking. Her grandmother and aunts had tried to ingrain the kitchen skills into her at a young age, but it stressed her out because she wasn’t naturally gifted in it. She can make a good cup of coffee, but it’s best to leave to crafting of fine foods in the hands of someone more capable and confident.

💖Some amazing art from some amazing people💖

@prophetic-hijinks @egofan4evr @lvnamuraart @dororoxpenana 💖

#encanto #encanto oc event #encanto oc appreciation #encanto extended edition #wdihtbm #encanto oc #Angela morales Estrada #angel morales estrada #bruno madrigal x oc #mandys drawings

[catasoph]

Return

Gally x f!reader

Summary: (Y/N) was alone the longest of time. Forgetting how a home or love feelt like, until a temperamental glader saved her and gave her a place to belong.

Words: 11.4k

Warnings: loneliness, suicidal thoughts, drinking, gunshots/wounds, trust issues, panic attacks, violence, kind of hurt/comfort

Authors note: My apostrophe stopped working through this. Please dont come at me. I already spend too much time on this. XD

The sun was just setting when a young woman walked into the club. The walls were crumbling down. All the beautiful wallpaper that once adorned the house was gone, leaving only cold stone behind. A few parts were sprayed full of graffiti. It showed obscurities and perverseness. Everything only to get by in a heartless world. The women walked in, carefully, scanning the room and nodding to a few familiar faces but never talking. Her first way was up to the bar, getting countless strong drinks to down her sorrow in. She sat there watching the people sway around her until she also felt her world taking down the framework around it, so it could move freely. Her legs automatically found their way to the dance floor, because she had been here too many nights already. Trying to forget the outside world. She memorized every wall and corridor. The little cracks everyone only looked at when they had one too many while they tried not to puke. She had mastered the art of avoiding the disappointment that lay outside waiting for her to come again at sunrise and swallow her whole.

The woman was (Y/N) (L/N) formerly property of WCKED, now all alone.

She danced until her legs hurt and her eyes were too tired to stay open any longer. Most people had already filled out hours ago, leaving her with the usual companions and her solitude until she also decided to leave. Not looking at the few remaining guests that were laying on the floor unconscious or sleeping. The nodding to the few that were still standing was reserved for the beginning of the evening. So nobody would dare try coming up to her.

When she opened the thick wooden door, where splinters were coming off and the color had already fainted, she left the darkness behind and stepped out into the light. A new day had come but for (Y/N) the roles were reserved. The light was mocking her, holding up a mirror she couldnt look into because all the sunshine had vanished. At least the club was dark, indulging her fantasy that the whole world was dark and that it wasnt only her mistake.

(Y/N) started her way down the sandy alleys, where rubble was laying next to other humans. It was true that not only her world was filled with darkness. It just had different shades. When a drunk guy was singing old lullabies with his friends, it didnt seem so dark to her. Only a filthy grey. But if (Y/N) looked too closely she would see that the old lady who, a few weeks ago, gave spare food to strangers who couldnt afford it, was now laying on the floor trying to gnaw her own leg off to stop the virus, the world got a whole lot darker.

(Y/N) closed her eyes for a moment to feel the warmth that was radiating down on her that would get almost unbearable in a few hours. When she opened them again three guards with greyish pants and a bulletproofed vest came towards her. It was not unusual to see some people patrolling the streets but these guys were sent from wicked. The helmet they wore was too expensive and protective to belong to anyone else than the remaining citizens from the last city. They were coming for her. Wicked had found her again. Immediately she turned around, trying to escape the other way but also from that side guards were circling in on her.

Her world was still turning, her feet stumbling over each other while her breathing became labored. She needed to focus, get control over herself. A hand touched her arm, yanking her forward so that she fell to the ground. The guards were around her, pointing their large weapons at her defenseless body. They were coming for blood.

When she finally stood straight a shot was heard and one of her legs gave out while a sharp pain pierced through her thigh.

"Kill me." (Y/N) breathed out.

"KILL ME! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Followed her scream. If wicked was to take her final moments then everybody would hear it. She would fight till the end, even though she had already given up. There was no way she would give wicked the satisfaction to do this quietly.

"Or are you afraid?" A deranged laugh split her throat as she looked at the guards that still hadn`t pulled the trigger.

"Big bad wicked afraid of a little girl?" Her smile showed her teeth as if she was warning the guards not to come near a hungry wolf. (Y/N) slowly stood up, her (e/c) eyes never leaving the guards in front of her and registering every movement. The woman was playing a dangerous game.

"Stay on the ground!" A booming voice filtered through the helmet. (Y/N) tsked but obeyed, pressing her hands onto her gunshot to stop the bleeding. Her eyes found the ground, closing, preparing for her final breath while thinking of all the people she loved and lost. A rain of shots was heard but no one pierced her skin. Loud thuds followed accompanied by dull footsteps. Slowly her head lifted again and her lashes flew open only to be met with the most trusting green eyes she had ever seen.

"Youre safe now." He spoke quietly. (Y/N) nodded dumbly, all air knocked out of her. The man gently took her hands from her wound to inspect it and she just let him have it. In the background, different voices made their way through the ringing in her ears. "They should take on guys on their level." "They can never just leave us alone." Her eyes flitted over the ground, looking at the guards that only seconds ago were threatening to kill her, were now laying dead on the same mud they always spitted on. A hand gently laid on her cheek pushing her face straight again, to look at the boy that had rescued her. "Dont look at them. Keep your eyes on me." She did. He gently put a band-aid over her bloody leg.

"The bullet is not in your leg anymore, but the wound still needs to get cleaned properly. You can come with us. We can treat you at our hideout." The man stood again, his serious eyes observing the alley they had found her in.

"Where they coming for you?" It was an obvious question and a loaded one at that. He asked if they came for her specifically or if it was just a coincidence. (Y/N) only nodded, avoiding eye contact, instead fidgeting with the sleeves of her jumper.

"I understand. Im Gally. Im sure we will find a place for you." A smile grazed his lips that she could only return.

He abruptly turned around and put (Y/N)s arm gently around his shoulder while bringing his own around her upper body to steady her. The other guards had been going down the little alley to search for other intruders but returned quickly to the van that was standing just a few feet away from the massacre. Gally placed her gently on the end of their car, leaving her to find her own way into a comfortable position while the other man climbed in behind her.

"You want to adopt her?" Another guard asked, taking off his mask and showing his gray hair and serious face. Wrinkles adorned every part of it, and his cheeks looked a bit hollow.

"She needs our help," Gally whispered, hoping that the girl he barely knew, didnt hear their conversation. It was deadly silent for a moment. Both men starring each other down before the older one of the two relaxed his stance. "If we take her, she is your responsibility." "Yes, Sir," Gally replied seriously.

"Im Jack. I`m one of the crew leaders to observe the patrols around the city. Who are you?" The gray-haired man asked, lifting his eyebrows which only added more to his natural wrinkles. (Y/N) was silent, only turning her hands to find more blood on the backside. "Why is Wicked after you?" He didnt sound threatening. His voice carried understanding and compassion while his eyes held a conflict. He needed to know but he didnt want to prod. (Y/N)s eyes slowly lifted, acknowledging the man but never moving a muscle to speak. Instead, her eyes flitted over to Gally, who was already looking at her, trying to find something she would never show. Jack huffed in exasperation but let the topic go. Leaning back in the tight space and clutching his gun whereas Gally watched her for the whole ride with a serious expression.

The car drive was silent. All the guards had taken off their helmets, so slow breathing could be heard from everyone. But (Y/N) didnt lift her head to look at them. Her eyes were intensely focused on her hands which were smeared with dirt and blood. Not just her own but also the blood that was rushing out of the lifeless bodies to pool around her feet.

Only shortly after they arrived at a large warehouse. The doors to the van opened just to reveal more people in the same attire, running around and chatting. In here non of them wore their helmets. Feeling safe with the comrades they fought alongside who had probably saved their life more than once.

The crew that had rescued (Y/N) filtered out of the car to walk slowly in the same direction. Gally was the last to step out of the vehicle. Jack found his eyes and nodded towards the women they had found while stretching out a hand for Gally to hand him his weapon before he turned around and left them alone.

"I will bring you up to the medics first and then we will find you a room." The blond man explained quickly while helping her up to her feet. Together they hopped up a flight of stairs and put her on a bed that looked the cleanest out of all of them.

A tall, lanky woman stepped in. Brushing her unruly red hair out of her face and pushing her glasses up on her pointy nose.

"Someone new?" Her voice sounded cheery even though she looked like she hadnt slept for days. Caring for the wounded, praying that they wouldnt die.

"Yes, found her in front of a club. Wicked shot her." Gally explained monotonously.

The woman peeled (Y/N)s trouser leg away to have a better look at the wound.

"No worries, dear. The old grouch can stay." A laugh bubbled out of her throat that made (Y/N) untense her shoulders and relax a bit but never letting Gallys hand go through the whole procedure.

"It looks pretty good. The bullet is not in your leg anymore so I will just clean your wound and close it with some stitches. You had some luck, dear." The woman laughed while carefully treating her wound. "Whats your name?" Silence stretched through the room, curling up on another bed and making itself comfortable to stay.

"Well, Im Robin. The whole lot calls me Rob though. Are you planning on staying with us?" No words left (Y/N)s mouth but instead nodded her head slowly.

"I see. Youre not one to talk? I can talk for both of us." Robin smiled truthfully and already opened her mouth to continue until her eyes fell on Gally still standing in the room and eyeing the two women curiously. (Y/N) could see the intention in Rob's eyes, before she could even form a word (Y/N)s hand found its way to Gally`s, making her intentions clear. The doctor's gaze snapped immediately over to their intertwined fingers and a smirk danced its way onto her lips.

The blond man gently put his hand around (Y/N)s upper body while she laid her arm over his shoulders to stabilize. Together they limped out of the room and down a long corridor to the sleeping quarters. They all had little numbers messily scribbled on them or were customized with graffiti. Gally explained that it made it easier for greenies to find their room. A strange word. Greenie. A small smile tucket at her lips hearing it.

"Okay, all done. You need to keep the wound clean for 48 hours. After that, you have to wash it twice a day. Come by tomorrow morning and I will show you how to bandage your leg." Robin smiled at (Y/N), her head moving over to Gally to nod at him.

"Take her away. She is all yours. Give her a nice room and keep her safe from all the animals out there." Gallys deadpanned expression morphed into one of confusion. One of his eyebrows arched up, whereas his mouth stayed in a thin line. Robin turned with a little giggle around and left the room. Finding a new victim she could terrorize.

"This one is mine. The one next to it is free so it would be easiest for you to stay there or do you want to keep looking?" (Y/N) shook her hand and took a symbolic step forward with one of her legs, waiting for Gally to follow and get her into her new home.

Gally placed her softly onto her bed, the mattress dipping under her weight and the bedframe squeaked pathetically.

"Are you okay?" A nod and then silence followed. The man shuffled awkwardly on his feet, wanting to say something but hesitating. His mouth opened a few times but only hot air emerged.

"I will leave you alone now." He settled on, in the end. Gally turned around, ready to leave but not taking a step because (Y/N)`s hand wormed her way back into his, tugging him back, asking silently for him to stay.

He turned around and looked into her eyes. Memories were flashing him then that would stay a mystery to him but he could see her pain. Desperately wanting to have someone. So he just settled on the floor in front of her and let their interlinked hands hang between them.

The day was already going towards its end when the woman decided to speak her first words.

"Can I trust them?" Such a simple question got Gally to waver. Squeezing their hands on impulse as if to tell them everything would be alright.

"Of course, you can trust me." A shy smile grew on her face, looking directly into his eyes while answering.

"Ohh silly, I know I can trust you. What about the other guards?"

"They saved me. They gave me a life and something to fight for. I trust them with my life." Her smile never fell but a glow was added to her eyes. Tiny so nobody would have noticed but Gally had studied her the entire day and it was as if a bit of life went back to her.

"So, I will do the same."

Weeks went by and the everyday life started again. (Y/N)s wound had healed completely and Gally went daily out for patrol but always returned. They had found their own little routine. Gally just came back from his evening patrol, opening the door to his room and taking off his heavy clothing with an exhausted sigh. Life out in the streets was hard. Everyone tried to survive. They stole, fought, and killed. Betraying the community they once had. Forgetting that their real enemy had built walls so high they could never climb them. It was brutal and the peace they tried to bring and reunite all the people that got forgotten never seemed to be enough. A shy knock was heard on his door.

"Come in!" He said while pulling his shirt over his head. A small smile grazed (Y/N)s lips when they stepped foot into the room, holding two bowls filled to the brim with vegetable soup.

"I made a recipe from my mom today." The bowls were put gently onto the table that was standing in the room with two chairs accompanying it. Gally took his seat opposite her and thanked her.

"How was she?" Curious eyes looked up to him, while (Y/N) blew the soup on her spoon before eating it.

"My mom?" A nod followed, staring down at his own soup.

"She had the best recipes. She made the most delicious dishes from cheap ingredients." A chuckle left her lips. Soup forgotten at her side whereas Gally's was almost completely gone.

"She always sang these old songs while cooking. Swaying her hips until my dad joined her for a quick dance. They looked so happy together." A wistful smile played on their lips, eyes unfocused while remembering everything she had with them.

"She thought up stories and told them to me before bringing me to bed."

"She sounds like a good mother." (Y/N)s eyes snapped back to the blond boy in front of her. Crashing back into a reality she couldnt escape.

"Im sorry." Gallys frown deepened, pushing his empty bowl away from him to lean back in his chair and cross his arms.

"Its okay. I dont know my parents so I dont miss them. Wicked gave me a different family." It should spark happiness that he had found what so many were still searching for but his eyes were dark with sadness. Guilt spread in his veins like venom and paralyzed him every move. It was a lie that he didnt care. Maybe he didn`t care for his parents but he definitely for the family that he had lost.

(Y/N) was standing in the kitchen preparing supper for Gally. His favorite food was sizzling on the stove. An easy curry with rice. The meal had been done for a while but no noise from the vans driving back in was heard yet and no other hungry man had found its way into the kitchen. Instead, the hideout was awfully quiet. It appeared as if (Y/N) was on her own. Ghost's from another time chasing around her. With a gnawing feeling in her stomach, she took the extra portion she had prepared to bring it over to the medical room where Robin had been hauled up all day. The older woman regularly forgot to eat during the day, which led to her fainting in the middle of the corridor. Since that day (Y/N) had made it her job to provide food for half the guards in the building and paid extra attention to Robs eating patterns. She had a plate loaded to the brim in her hands, carefully watching her steps so nothing would spill and tumble to the floor. When she appeared in the open doorway, Rob is entranced in a paper laying in front of her, hurriedly scribbling notes on the notebook beside her.

(Y/N) gently knocked on the doorframe so as to not startled her. The doctor's hurried gaze flitted upwards, catching her smile and returning it with relief.

"Thank goodness its you." She breathed relieved, leaning back in her chair while (Y/N) placed her food in front of her.

"Who else should it be?"

"I thought they had returned from the attack and would swarm my office now." The woman lazily gestured, before digging into the hot meal in front of her.

"Attack?"

"Darling, have you not heard it? There were rumors that another gang was making trouble. All most all of the guards went out to keep the other citizens safe." Robin didn`t realize the effect her words had on the woman in front of her. Just enjoying her meal and trusting everyone would make it back safe.

Loss was nothing new. Everyone had lost someone or something. Their family, their friends, their home, their city. But some people had lost more than others. Their hope, their faith, their trust, and their sanity.

"Tha… That's why Gally isnt back yet." (Y/N)'s eyes found the floor, her world swaying, turning, and twisting to throw her off her balance. Her breath became short and rigid. Hand gripping the doorframe tightly to remain standing, while a piercing ring stayed in her ear. She couldnt remember it. She couldnt remember his laugh, how his hand felt. She couldnt remember the color of his eyes. She couldnt remember him. There was just darkness. The pictures she desperately tried to save in her mind were already trying to flee. Burning away to ashes she couldnt grasp. How would she live like that? With the distant memory of the happy life, she could have had before everything fell apart again.

He would fall, die, tumble to the ground like leaves the only difference would be that there would be nothing poetic about it.

He would fall and she would fall with him. At a different time and a different place with a different feeling but they would end up at the same place. Laying together as if it was their destiny that their fates got entangled.

"(Y/N)! Darling!" A loud voice came muffled towards her still ringing ears. Her eyes focused on a woman with red hair. She remembered her. Robin. She remembered his laugh and the wrinkles around his eyes. His favorite food and the places he felt safest. She remembered everything but still felt her life glide through her hands, shattering on the cold concrete floor.

"You`re okay," Rob stated, (Y/N) wasnt sure if she said it to convince herself or the girl that was still violently shivering on the floor. "He will come back. I promise." A promise she had no control over. The (H/C) haired woman scoffed, scratching her hands. Her body imagined a place to hide where the pain couldnt find her. Numb it the only way she knew how with a bottle of vodka in her hands and the desire to forget in her head. Instead, she nodded. Letting Robin take her hands and place her in one of the beds to sit in silence together.

"Look at me!" The woman gripping her shoulders orders.

"Breath. Do you feel my heartbeat? Breathe with it." Her tone softened, calming down with every intake of air. (Y/N)s bright red head was returning back to a healthier color. She could feel the sweat trickling down her nape and the tears on her cheeks. (Y/N) became overly aware of everything touching her body. The clothes on her body scratched and itched while the hands on her arms burned through her skin.

She mustered the younger one a bit longer before returning to the food that was still standing on her table, only half eaten. No one dared say a word. The air filled with tension that was created from the outside and would only break when Gally returned. (Y/N) looked out of the window onto the sandy streets where people crawled around like insects hoping to not get crushed by the world. She was listening intently for noises. Be it a gunshot or tires screeching on asphalt, anything to predict the outcome she didnt want to know. But the first thing she heard was a motor rumbling and people yelling even though she couldnt understand their words. Her head whipped around and her feet slipped onto the ground. Sprinting out of the room to see for herself. She arrived at the parking space, seeing everyone helping to bring the equipment back. Her eyes nervously scanned the crowd, rushing through the mass of people to find the usual blond-haired boy.

She didnt leave Gallys side for the remainder of the evening, pressing into his side. When nighttime came around the thought of leaving terrified her. Her bed seemed too empty and lonely. No one would chase her nightmares away that were sure to come. But Gally sensed her distress. Never leaving his side and touching him when the situation would allow it.

"(Y/N)." A soft voice spoke behind her, getting her to whirl around and crash into a broad chest that she engulfed greedily with tears spilling once more over her face.

"You`re back." The hiccuped, letting Gally press them closer together so she could hear his heartbeat.

"I will always return."

They settled in and got comfortable. (Y/N)s hand immediately finding his when he got in beside her. They faced each other, staring into their eyes and hoping to find answers to questions they wouldnt dare ask.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" Gally asked with a husky voice, pulling his blanket back and gesturing towards the other side. Huge eyes found his, scared and desperate. A small nod was the only answer he got, reminding him of their first days together when talking seemed to be too much for her. Overwhelmed by her emotions.

"I was also at wicked." Gally raised an eyebrow. Confusion and curiosity settled on his features.

"They tested if I was immune. I wasnt so they didnt send me into the maze but all the other children. Th…They hurt them. Put them through horrible tests and I couldnt do anything. I was so helpless. When they didnt need me anymore they send me out into a world I didnt know. I lost everything all over again." Gally scooted closer, engulfing her in his strong arms and feeling her breath against his neck. "I tried to save them and get them out but... I failed. I couldnt save a single one. That`s why wicked was after me."

"Thank you." He took a small break, a calming breath leaving his mouth. "For trying."

Gally was sitting at the edge of the roof, feet dangling in the air while he stared straight ahead. His hands held onto a white stone with a smooth surface where a sun was carved into. Reminding him of his promise to never give up and keep going. He didnt know who he had promised. Didnt know who he belonged to and what feelings to associate with it but it is the only memory wicked let him keep. Or it was just the only one that was too strong for them to take. The stone had been in his pocket since the day he arrived at the glade. His only personal item besides the clothes on his body. It was his and he kept it safe. Promising every evening that he would see the sun the next day.

Light tapping of feet was heard behind him, closing in on his figure. Someone else placed themselves next to him, their feet finding their space next to his not afraid of falling. (Y/N).

"You like this place." She stated bluntly. Keeping her eyes facing forward onto the huge gray wall illuminating the landscape. The difference was significant. The outer parts of the city where they lived were in ruins. The flare spreads uncontrollably, leaving people to die of poverty and sickness. Whereas the wall hid the rich and lucky. Mocking them with their cage of metal. The last city was majestic in Gally`s eyes. The buildings were so high and bright that they seemed to grow bigger the more often he looked at them. This wall reminded him of everything he was fighting for.

"They took everything." Silence made its way between them. Motionlessly listening to the sounds that the wind could not carry over the barrier. Wishing they could listen to something but the screams of agony coming from the streets below them.

"Yes, it always reminds me of my goal." The wind picked up, flying through their hair and moving their clothing in rhythm.

"They took a lot from you, didnt they?"

"In the Glade. At first, everyone was afraid of me but Alby. He gave me a chance so that I could show what I can do. I started building with the other few boys we had back then. The fear shifted to respect. I didnt realise it back then but they became my family. Until Thomas came. He scared me so much. His whole recklessness. It felt like he wanted to take my family from me." He laughed dryly, his hands still holding motionlessly onto his lucky charm, never wiping away the tears escaping his eyes.

"Now look at me. I was the one who destroyed my family. If I would have just made different decisions. Maybe Chuck would still be alive and we would be together." His voice never wavered. Glad to finally speak the truth that had taken countless nights of sleep from him. The shame was thrumming in his veins never stopping to flow. His head cast downwards, tears falling onto his dark trousers, not able to taint them.

(Y/N) breathed slowly. Her eyes watchfully examined the desert that lay before her.

"It hurts." Her gaze swept over to Gally. "I know. I wont give you the same empty phrases. It hurts to lose what you just wanted to protect. But for all the boys that died in the Glade, Wicked set them up for it. The selfish desire of rich people did that to you." She took a breath, trying to compose herself. "You shouldnt blame yourself. It`s not your fault."

Her hand gently lifted, wiping the tears away that Gally had stubbornly ignored. Her hand lingers on his cheek, stroking over the freckles gracing his face. When he finally turns his head, looking at the girl that was smiling sadly up at him he surged forward. His right hand met the asphalt to keep them steady where as his other one held her face gently. His chapped lips found hers just for a delicate second. Retracing quickly only for her to chase after him, holding him close.

Their days didnt get easier. Life kept on going dragging them with, but it finally felt like they had a purpose. Something to live for that wasnt hate or revenge. They lived for their future, for love. They lived for each other. Realizing that no one would fight their battles besides themselves.

"You`re okay, Rob. Lets move to the bed." The redhead clung desperately at (Y/N). Her legs barely worked and gave out again when the gunshots rang through the hideout. "Lay down. Relax for a bit. I will find out whats going on." She squeezed her hand gently, pulling a blanket over the shivering woman before rushing out of the room and down the corridor to find out what was happening.

Their routine didnt change much. Gally went out for patrol every day. Getting better and earning the trust of the other soldiers so that his rank increased. Directing small groups of guards through the city like the leader he was. It was a sunny day. (Y/N) was helping Rob in the infirmary. Moving the injured and bringing the medications the other woman had brewed. Until she heard loud gunshots ringing. Robin was on the ground in seconds. Holding her hands tightly over her ears and shaking violently.

She found Jack, the guard from the day they had saved her, in the radio room. Turning around immediately when he heard someone enter.

"I want backup down at the garage!" He hollered while marching straight in that direction the woman hot on his heels. "Stay behind me. I cant let anything happen to you, darling." He smiled genuinely before pulling down his helmet and gripping his gun tightly when he heard the screeching of tires. The first van arrived and the guards swarmed a dark-haired male, a blond boy, and a woman with short hair. They stayed at a reasonable distance but pointed their guns directly at their faces. The second van wasnt as peaceful. Grunting and screaming could already be heard when they just drove in. When the doors open a soldier and a man fall out of the van who was punching him violently. Immediately the three teenagers swarmed around them. The girl spoke calming words that got the foreign man to let go.

"Whats happening?" (Y/N) was a little out of breath, gripping the doorframe tightly while her eyes zeroed in on the gray-haired man. "The shots came from the wall. There is a mass panic down in the ruins. But Gally and the others are okay. They reached out via funk. They are on their way with a few extra men. So stay back until I deem it safe." His voice was professional, filling the tension in the room with orders and making his way already outside before (Y/N) could answer.

"Where all on the same side here!" Gallys loud voice broke the tension, bringing all eyes to him.

"What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?" Gally hesitated for a moment before pulling down his mask.

"Hey, Greenie." The new arrivals looked at him shocked. Eyes wide, mouth trying to form words that just wouldnt come. The first to react was the dark-haired man. He leaped at Gally and punched him straight in the face which made them both fall over. Jack was immediately at their side ready to pull the stranger off but before he could the blond one spoke up. Soothing words reached his companion so that he let go of Gally.

"I can help with that. Follow me." Gally turned around ready to lead the group deeper into the hideout. Angry and disapproving looks were exchanged between the man that had attacked Gally and the blonde one.

"H...How is this possible? We watched you die" "No, you left me to die, and if we hadnt found you when we did. You would be dead right now." Jack untensed his stance, lowering his weapon a bit but still ready to kill if anyone made a wrong move.

"What are you doing here?" Gally continued.

"Minho. Wicked has him here. Were looking for a way in."

(Y/N) sprang out from behind Jack, pushing her way forward through the other guards only to stand in front of Gally and examine his face. Her hand was reaching out but centimeters before touching she backed away.

"Are you hurt?" Her eyebrows drew together in concern, looking behind Gally to see the others had stopped walking as well and were watching them intensely.

Lawrence was an intimidating man. He didnt give up without getting something in return. The deformed man was always out for profit. He was greedy and (Y/N) was sure if he had the luck to stay at Wickeds side on the other side of the walls, he always tried to tear down, he would have forgotten about all the poor people as well. Putting his greedy hands against a clean window to watch the people, he was now protecting, burn.

"I`m fine." (Y/N) mustered him for a few seconds. MInho was a familiar name. Gally had talked about him repeatedly. They seemed to have been some kind of friends in the maze but the people he had thought his family had left him behind to die.

"Dont be reckless. You dont have to save everyone." Both of them knew how dangerous it was to get into the last city. Few had tried and non of them had survived. It was a suicide mission and Gally knew it.

"I need to save him." He whispered, his eyes desperately searching hers for an ounce of understanding. But before he could find it, her eyes drop to the floor and her head shakes in disappointment. He carefully reaches for her hand and squeezes it softly. Reassuring her that he would not leave her alone in this life. She was not meant to see all the horrors of life by herself.

"I will return. I promise." Their hands fall lifeless between them. Gally rushes past her to show the Gladers the way to Lawrence, their doom.

When the conference was over. Gally, Newt, and Thomas got ready to scout out their way to the last city. Leaving Brenda, Jorge, and Frypan for leverage behind. Brenda was finding a seat next to (Y/N) in what appeared to be the kitchen space. The wooden chair creaked under her weight but the mysterious woman never lifted her chin.

Gally spoke for the group of newcomers. The dark-haired man, named Thomas, offered up his blood to heal the sick man temporarily. While they discussed some details about their deal (Y/N) stood in the background watching the group of strangers.

They didnt pay her any mind besides the girl. She felt (Y/N)s presence in her back, staring intently at them. Determining if they were a threat. Her eyes flickered over every person when someone shifted but stayed longer on Thomas. She looked at him as if he was the pest. waltzing in to destroy her dream. It was clear she didnt trust him or any of them.

The night dragged on. (Y/N) feared it would be bright again before they returned. Making it harder for them to slip from shadow to shadow and disappear into the darkness. They could get noticed by Wicked without them even making it near their friend. But abruptly the door flew open and the three stood healthy and safe in front of them.

"Do you think it will work?" They didnt look at each other. It was obvious they were talking about the idea of freeing their friend from Wicked. Ignoring every sign that told them to stop, to turn around and run, because if they took one more step they would fall into the depths of hell and couldnt crawl their way out like the last times. "Its reckless and stupid." (Y/N) retorts, hoping Gally would still hear her disapprove even though they were already picking up their bags. Her eyes tried to scorch the skin that was on his spine while he was busy leaving the room, to break into a city with enormous high-security measures. After they were out of earshot (Y/N) picked up her voice again.

"But they will not stop until he is out. Gally is their best bet." She turned her head towards the brunette, smiling sadly up at her.

(Y/N) sprang up, to wrap her arms around Gally and feel his muscles tightening around her while his heart beat against his chest.

Everyone found their place around a large table. Silence filled the air. The three men were just staring down at the table whereas the others were mustering them curiously. Frypan was the first to fill the empty void.

"Well, did you find a way in?" Thomas glanced nervously at Gally, shifting on his feet uncomfortably but never speaking up. Gally sighed exhausted. The bags under his eyes were prominent for having been out all day.

"Its Teresa." (Y/N)s head lifted. She knew that name. Memories of a dark-haired girl flashed through her mind that could not be older than her but had already lost her heart. Everyone was afraid of the flare. The disease creeping into your bones, stripping you naked of all they had been before. But what terrified (Y/N) the most was the empty eyes of people who had lost too much. Their heart was emptied out. Feelings thrown in a cage that nobody could open. She had seen that in Teresa when they were barely children. Teresa never had a consciousness. Selling her friends out to get what she needed. She was a vicious beast in disguise.

"No, there has got to be another way." His voice was rigid. He was pacing back and forth. Ready to carve his way inside if he could leave the girl that had betrayed them more than once out of harm's way.

"Like what? Youve seen the building, she is our only way in." A bit of anger seeped into his voice at Thomas stubbornness to discard his plan. "Do you really think she would just help us?" Frypan spoke up from his side of the table, gesturing lazily at the blueprints in from of the group. "I dont plan on asking her for permission." Gally chuckled lightly. (Y/N) would have expected them to look surprised or mildly uncomfortable but no one batted an eye at the statement of the soldier.

A beat of silence rang through the room. Tension seeping in and creating a fog no one wanted to walk through.

"Am I missing something here? This is the same girl who betrayed us, correct? Same dick?"

"I like her," Gally stated, letting (Y/N) and him agree on at least one thing that night.

A gasp left Brenda when Newt pressed Thomas against the fall, screaming at him. Saying without needing to even utter the words that he had failed Minho because they had trusted the girl he loved. (Y/N)s hand immediately found Gallys. Seeking warmth and comfort from the only person that would not skin them alive if they had the chance.

"What? Are you afraid your little girlfriend is going to get hurt? Hmm? This has obviously never been about just rescuing Minho." The blond's eyes were blown wide, his fingers tightly balled to fists while his nails dug into the flesh of his hands. The tension in everyone's body seemed to rise. Holding them all in a choke hold, not allowing them to breathe.

"What are you talking about, Newt?"

"Teresa!" Newt screamed at him. Leaping off his seat, that fell with a loud thud to the ground. He charged across the room, forcing Gally to shift unconsciously in front of (Y/N) to block Newt's view of her. Being a protective wall between them.

"I mean, shes the only reason why Minho went missing in the first place. Now we finally have an opportunity to get him back and what?"

"You dont want to because of her? Because deep down you still care about her, dont you?" Newt spat in his face, body shaking heavenly while panting, trying to get air into his exhausted lungs. "Just admit it." The boy sounded defeated. As if he had lost all purpose and hope for following Thomas, just repeating the same actions if the man was never able to sacrifice something.

"I`m sorry." He turned around. His head faced the ground before rushing off and leaving everyone flabbergasted.

"Newt." Thomas breathed out. His eyes stayed on Newts with a shocked expression. Searching for the source of the angry display. "Dont lie to me!" He screamed. Shoving Thomas once more roughly against the wall, making (Y/N) flinch.

"Dont lie to me." Came it dangerously low, threatening the boy with these simple words. His posture suddenly changes. Regret flashed through his eyes when he slowly lets go of Thomas.

"Im sorry." He whispers towards the boy he had just attacked with eyes that were unseeing. It was as if he had forgotten himself and someone else possessed him for the last few moments, so he could remember but couldn't control.

No one of the remaining people dared to move. They were staring at each other or after Newt. Gally only loosens his grip on (Y/N)s hand after Newt had been gone for a few minutes.

"I will talk to him." Thomas was the first to talk and rush after his friend. Everyone else stayed as if they had been turned to stone. Not talking just existing and hanging in their own thoughts, They didnt look at the blueprint but were just staring into space to find a purpose to keep going, to keep fighting, because this had felt more disastrous than anyone was prepared for.

"I will join your mission."

"Absolutely not." Gally turned abruptly, staring into (Y/N)s determined eyes. The battle was fought silently, not one of them breaking eye contact before Brenda spoke up. "I could use help with the kids." Gallys angry gaze swept over to her, ready to set her aflame while the woman in front of him smirked. Knowing he could not leave her behind.

(Y/N) put a giant pot in front of the Gladers. Having cooked for them so they would all be healthy and prepared for the days to come. They filled up their plates and started eating silently. Thomas and Gally were wrapping up the last details of their plan after Thomas had decided he would use Teresa to get their friend back and bring Newt back home safely and healthy.

They waited till the next evening. Letting everyone rest until they would start with their plan. (Y/N) was laying in Gallys arms. Following the lines on his hands and breathing deeply into their proximity.

"Sooo, you and Gally?" Brenda started, picking innocently at her food, only looking up at the corner of her eye. (Y/N)s cheeks flushed in rosy pink. It didnt go unnoticed by the other girl but she waited patiently for confirmation, so she nodded quickly.

"W…what? Gally? Tall, tough guy Gally? Always a scowl on his face Gally?" Frypan squeaked next to her. His cutlery limply hanging in his hands, food forgotten over the conversation they were having.

"So he was a softie all along," Newt smirked. Only stopping shortly his meal before continuing. Brenda didn`t even bat an eye at the stiff girl in front of her, just silently enjoying the information she got on the stoic glader boy.

"I need you to be safe." She whispers.

"Right back at you." (Y/N) scoffed.

"Im not as reckless as you." Gally chuckled lowly, burying his head into her nape. She smiled wistfully. Knowing she finally had what she always wanted. Her mind was at peace before she fell asleep.

The next day was hectic. They were trying to get everything in order before they would go to the city and had to fight on their own. Lawrence has offered to help. If Gally gave them a way in and placed an electrical device near the power box, they would hack into Wicked`s system to put a record over the cameras and let them walk through the building almost unseen. When the world became dark around them, the three boys once again climbed through the manhole cover to get into the last city and leaving the rest to wait.

When they came back a woman stumbled in front of them. Dirty sack covering her face to keep the way to the hideout anonymous. Newt placed her harshly on a chair, ripping off the sack to give a face to a disheveled Teresa. Her eyes moved around the room, scanning the faces of her kidnappers.

"Gally?" Teresa panted loudly, her eyes focusing on the believed dead glader, who sighed heavily.

"Here is how this is gonna go: where gonna ask you a few questions and you will tell us exactly what we need to know. We'll start off simple. Where is Minho?" Gally leaned against the table. His face not showing the emotion that was brewing inside of him. All the anger, sadness, and fear locked behind an expression no one was able to read. He pushed himself to a standing position. Grabbing a chair and slowly walking towards her.

"You guys don't seriously think…" Teresa's eyes were trying to outrun Gally. Moving around to find kinder eyes, fixating on Thomas when they made eye contact. Gally dropped the chair harshly in front of her, sitting down. His eyes bore holes in her skull. Intimidating her to get what they need.

"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not gonna help you." A heavy silence filled the room. The air was stuck in Teresa's lungs, too scared to crawl up her throat, out into the world to face the angry man in front of her.

"Well, I don't know. We don't necessarily need her, right?" Gally stands up and spins his chair back to the table. "Not all of her." He grabs a knife from the table, pointing it threateningly at her. "We just need her finger." No smile was playing around his lips to show he enjoyed the theater. Because for him she was once one of them. They had the same fate. (Y/N)s eyes suspiciously shifted over to Gally. Her eyes left Teresa for the first time since she had walked into the room. She knew how much pain she had put all of them through. She could see it in their gestures and the words that were tied back behind a tongue. Sewn up to the tops of their mouth and staying with them forever.

"Now we know you have Minho in the building. Where?"

"He is with the others in holding. Sublevel 3."

"How many others?" Newt spoke up from behind Gally. His posture was just as unreadable as the other ones. The kind smile that Teresa appreciated on her first days in the glade, was chased away by shadows.

"28."

Brenda turned to them. A small smile played at her lips before speaking: "I can make that work."

"No, no you guys don't understand. The whole level is restricted. You can't get in without a thumbprint ID." The tied-up woman scrambled to say. Trying to keep her friends safe but also all the progress they had made.

"That's why you are gonna come with us." The man she loved spoke up for the first time. No empathy or recognition showing through his stone-cold face. She had lost him. Had lost them all. For the hope of letting strangers survive. Would she change her decision if she could?

"Gally, back off," Thomas spoke up. Letting the love he held for Teresa shine through.

"You getting squeamish? I can guarantee you she has done a lot worse to Minho."

"That's not the plan. Back off." Thomas stood up, taking Gally's knife from him without the other resisting.

"Won't make a difference. Do whatever you want to me. You still won't get through the front door. The sensors will pick you up."

"We know, we're tagged. Property of wicked. You're gonna help us with that too." Thomas walked slowly over to her, holding the scalpel towards her. She nodded, silently complying and letting Gally untie her. She takes the scalpel with shaking hands, not looking up until she hears steps rushing towards her. Recognition flashed through her eyes when she saw the woman in front of her. So different but no doubt one of the girls wicked had tested. She was older. Her eyes were hard and her lips downturned. What had happened to you, little bird?

"Ill go first."

Thomas and Newt went with Teresa, whereas Gally and (Y/N) joined them through the underground garage. Making it look casual instead of closely planned. They took the staircase to get to the upper levels to meet fewer people while the cameras are still working. On the ground floor was the electrical box Gally had to open and station the hacking device in that Lawrence gave them. It was a risky plan, sawing the electrical box open in the middle of the stairs. (Y/N) obsessively checked every corner multiple times, clutching her gun between her hands. Fearing someone would come up and shoot them without them even getting near Minho. But Gally did quick and efficient work, having placed the device only a few minutes after them arriving on the floor.

After all of them got their tags out, Gally brought Teresa into another room. Locking her in it without furniture and windows. Preventing almost every option for her to escape or kill herself, while the others got ready. Everyone loaded their weapons, strapped knives onto their body, and Gally, Newt, Thomas, and (Y/N) disguised themselves as guards. She was checking her gun again. When Gally spoke up:

„Stay close to me.“ It was a scared order. Is eyes were trained on the belt, hands trying to tighten it but being unable to move properly. He huffed exasperated when he didn`t hit the hole again. (Y/N) stepped forward, taking his hands in hers, so that he had to acknowledge her. His soft eyes found hers and no words were spoken. She smiled softly, squeezing his hands to reassure him that she would be safe before Gally stepped away and set the plan into motion.

The whole level looked sterilised. No kids were living in these walls but prisoners. Milked until every last drop of them would benefit another human instead of them. They could die if it meant keeping the wealthy alive.

“Let's go.” Gally nods towards the staircase, pulling down his helmet to keep up his appearance while they rushed upstairs to Sublevel 3.

Newt and Thomas opened the heavy metal doors that kept the children from freedom. (Y/N) stayed at the entrance, looking out the doorway to alarm them when new guards were arriving. Promising to keep the children safe that have already given more than they should have.

They stormed the room the children were stationed at. Shooting the guards working for Wicked that were meant to protect the precious serum. It was immoral. Housing them in small cages where they could barely stand. For Wicked, they were objects meant to be exploited.

Part of a conversation trickled into (Y/N)s ear, limiting her concentration for a moment.

"Someone moved him up to the medical wing. Thomas, that's on the other side of the building." Teresa spoke hastily.

"Okay, take me to him. Right now."

"Let me come with you." Newt sounded worn out. Getting tired of wearing heavy clothes and running around a huge building. The disease was clearly getting to him. Painting his face in an ashy gray. He looked like he had already died, only stubbornness keeping him alive.

"No Newt, you're not. You stay here with Gally." Thomas replied. Worry laced his voice while he already moved towards the door.

"You can't do this on your own. Minho comes first, remember?" The fragile boy grabs his arm. His grip was not strong but reminded the other how strong they could be together. Maybe they couldnt win but at least they could fight. Their lives were intertwined and if separated would not be as promising.

"I will stay here with Gally." (Y/N) spoke up from the doorway, lifting the burden of a decision off Thomas's shoulders. Newt nodded at her thankfully, rushing past her to save his friend.

Creakingly the massive steal door opened, Gally rushed in and filled a little bag with glasses full of blue liquid. When the blond steps out and the door falls slowly close behind him an alarm starts going off. Red lights on the walls started flashing, signaling them to find their way outside.

As the others rush off, leaving the couple alone, the children start to mutter over each other. Their faces tense with their mouth half open as if a scream wanted to crawl out of their mouth and they fought it with desperation. (Y/N) turned around halfway, acknowledging the fear present in the room.

"It's okay. We're here to save you. But stay quiet please."

"Okay, we need to get outta here. Now. Stay close to me. Stick together.” Gally stepped forward, addressing the children with clear instructions they would be able to follow in the chaos that lay outside the door, waiting for them.

“You. You guard this with your life, you understand?" He gave a boy that was standing at the front of the group the serum. Before he takes off, leading Wicked`s property outside. (Y/N) stays back, making sure everyone left the room before covering the back of the group.

He took out his walkie-talkie, sending a quick message to their escort: "Brenda, where are you? We are here." Only a moment later a bus drove in front of them, showing a smiling Brenda who immediately opened the doors and helped get the children in, who eagerly scramble inside.

They reached the garage without many complications. Gally stopped abruptly letting the kids be covered by a connecting wall. His eyes roamed towards the other side of the huge parking space, breathing heavily from all the running.

"Stay low. Go go go." Gally lifted his hand, signaling the kids to run in front of him so he could watch the other people on the other side. When all of them are in front of him, he falls in step with (Y/N) and they run alongside each other until they reach a safer spot.

(Y/N) prayed he would find the others quickly and return to them. But her hopes were crushed when shortly after their departure guards appear close to them. In a hushed voice, Brenda tells the children to get down, hoping they will turn around and leave. Slowly they make their way toward the vehicle, guns raised. Brenda looks back at (Y/N), her eyebrows raised in a silent question. Every scenario was rushing through her head. The possibility to leave Gally behind to die was a heavy burden in her heart but she nodded. Her responsibility was bringing the scared children, clutching tightly onto each other, to freedom. Far away from Wicked so they would be safe.

"Where is Thomas?" Brenda asked puzzled, her eyes searching for her friend.

"I thought he was with you," Gally responded, sending the last child into the bus before focusing on the stubborn girl, who was already leaving the bus.

"Wait, wait. Stay here with the kids. Just wait. I'll find him."

“I will come with you.” (Y/N) decided but got a stern look from the man in front of her.

"Stay here. Wait with Brenda and guard the kids. I will come back I promise." His eyes are swimming with fear. Desperate to know that she will be safe until they arrive. His eyes pleaded with her to just give in. Which she did. Knowing they were only losing precious time, so she nodded, before stepping close to him.

"Stay safe." She gave him a quick kiss, hoping to show him that she needed him to return to her, before hopping on the bus as well. Gally pulls down his mask, clutching his gun before jogging back to the wicked compound.

Shortly after they left the wicked building behind, police cars appeared next to them. Chasing them through tight streets, with Brenda trying to shake them off. The bus swang to every side, aspiring to hit the police cars. Brenda turned into a different street, praying to finally get away, only to race towards a barrier, packed with cars and armed soldiers. Brenda reacted immediately, doing an emergency breaking that jolts all of them. They were panting heavily, hearts racing against each other while their bodies were still. No one moved afraid of breaking down.

"Sorry Thomas," Brenda muttered but it got drowned out by the starting motor.

“Hold tight, kids.” (Y/N) spoke loudly while Brenda pushed the gas pedal, making the guards in front of them scramble out of the way before they started driving through the city.

The trailer of the crane dropped in front of her. (Y/N) reached for it to secure it onto the front of the bus. Bullets flew next to her, trying to let at least someone suffer for all the damage they had caused, but the bullets just went past. Not even grazing her. As soon as (Y/N) is inside, the bus gets lifted into the air. Everyone getting pushed against their seat, while (Y/N) held onto one of the handrails in the front.

“Get out of the vehicle!” A voice bellowed.

"Give me the flashing light." Brenda shook her head vehemently. Clutching it tightly to her chest.

"Brenda, I have the bulletproof vest. Give it to me." Her grip faltered slowly. She never offered it up to the other woman but instead, she had to take it. (Y/N) held the light in a white-knuckled grip, stepping out of the bus without looking back at the immunes. She would leave them to Brenda.

"Step away from the vehicle. Put your hands in the air. Drop the weapon."

(Y/N) took slow steps until she was in front of the bus, raising her hands in the same fashion before smirking and firing the flashing light into the sky.

A red light engulfed the night sky, her eyes twinkled pleased. Finally, she was able to return what Wicked had done to her. A few years ago she was incapable of saving her friends. She failed, but she would make sure to give the children packed on the bus a chance for a new life.

When they reached the top height, Brenda whooped. Happy to finally be out of danger, only to get her hopes crushed by the loud creaking of the bumper. Frypan drops them fast outside the city, just stopping a few meters before they hit the ground. The bus falls forward with a loud crash, deafening the screams of the children. When they reached the ground safely, loud panting was heard throughout the vehicle until Brenda's loud voice broke the deadly silence.

A loud explosion is heard that shakes the ground. Everyone scrambles outside, seeing the last city burn with flames. (Y/N) imagined she could hear the screams. They wanted to save and know they helped to destroy. In this world, nothing would ever be without a cost. Without regret and doubt. They would always try to save only to see the world burn again.

"Okay everybody out."

They walk the last few meters over scorched land to the hideout but when they reach it nobody is there.

"Lawrence!" Brenda called out, hoping for a reply.

"Everyone is gone." (Y/N) spoke out the thought, nobody dared to. Her home was abandoned. All the people she had considered family left, without knowing if they would ever see each other again. She could imagine they were preparing for a war against Wicked. Without caring for all the lives they would take. Without caring that Gally was still in there.

"Just get the others. Get everybody out."

A cracking noise was heard from the walkie-talkie that sparks hope. Brenda answered immediately.

"Thomas, you there?"

"We're not gonna make it."

He sounded out of breath and out of hope. Screams and gunshots could be heard from the other side, making (Y/N)s eyes sting. Her heartbeat racing, trying to sprint towards the burning buildings itself. "What are you talking about?"

"No. I'm not leaving you. So forget it." (Y/N) could taste the sour panic in her mouth. She could not stand to watch, to listen. Her feet gave in, making her fall to the ground unceremoniously. She couldnt lose Gally. Not again. He was her life. She couldn't survive it for a second time. Her breath became rapid. All the memories of them together flashed through her mind. The future they wanted laying dead in a casket with cold hands and ash skin. She wouldnt survive it. A loud noise erupted next to her, bright lights she couldnt place making her eyes squint. Strong hands were on her, helping her up from the cold stone floor but she couldnt make out their voices, their faces. Everything was a blur until someone placed a hand over her heart.

“Youre safe. We`re all gonna be okay. We will get them out of there. Help is here.” Frypan spoke slowly toward them while (Y/N) lifted her head to look around. The scenery had shifted towards a metallic aircraft, flying them towards the high flames. Towards Gally. Relief painted over her face, letting her close her eyes before the airplane landed and she had to stand up again. The war was not won yet.

They waited anxiously. Brenda's eyes were glued onto the tunnels, the way the boys should come from. Whereas (Y/N) was pacing around, picking at the skin around her fingernails, while watching the flames climb higher and higher.

“We need the cure!” Minho panted. No air was left in his lungs for talking but Brenda didn`t need to reply. Racing towards the tunnels herself with the boys and (Y/N) closely behind. Gally and (Y/N) were the only ones left with guns, taking over to cover the others from attacks.

“There!” Frypan screamed, pointing at two running figures. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Gally but her heart plummeted when she couldn`t spot Thomas and Newt anywhere.

The city was a mess. Cars were turned around, windows smashed and whole stores set aflame. Corpses were scattered around, while more were added to it.

(Y/N) drags herself behind the others. Her feet getting heavy and her brain hurting from all the screams and lights. A piercing pain ripped through her body. A scream ripped through the bright night sky while her hands clutched her abdomen. Getting stained with wet, red liquid. Her eyes were blown wide, looking forward to Gally who stood paralyzed a few feet in front of her, sprinting back to catch her before she hit the ground.

They took cover behind a car, (Y/N) shooting behind herself to get rid of a wicked guard that had been following them for quite a while. The others took off before the guard got hit by one of the bullets, leaving (Y/N) to fend for herself. The man falls shortly after. His eyes became lifeless while blood is trickling out of his wound.

They lay together on the ground, people moving around them but unseeing. His lips were moving, but she couldn`t make out his words. Her eyes slipped shut when she felt Gally encircle his arms around her.

The ocean was crashing. Whispering tails of heartbreak and love. Birds chirping above it, to add details. It smelled salty and clear like freedom and peace.

But her eyelids were heavy, refusing to open, while her body dragged her back down to darkness. It was war, fighting. A battle she couldn't lose.

She slipped in and out of dreamless sleep. Accompanying her until she felt ready to see the new world. The world they had created.

Slowly her eyes opened, registering the grey ceiling above her, it looked trist and old.

Wind swept through the open door, flying over her face, gently tickling her awake. Forcing her to move her head and acknowledge the blue paradise outside of her shed.

"Hey." A voice rasped beside her. Her eyes blinked blearily to focus on the man who had stayed at her side.

"Hey." Her voice was croaky and broken but it reached its destination. A tired smile played around his lips, while he took her hands.

"I missed you." Gally gave her a glass of water that was already prepared at her bedside table.

She nodded in gratefulness and tried sitting up, but a jolt went through her body, making her wince in pain. Hands automatically reached to her stomach.

"You got shot at the last city." He gently helped her to get her upper body straight. Positioning it gently on the pillows. Before bringing the glass towards her lips.

"Rob did everything she could. She saved you." His eyes were downcast. Avoiding her eyes.

"It's not your fault."

"But it is."

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I…I should have taken care of you. Looked out better."

"Gally, there is nothing you anyone could have done." (Y/N)'s eyes were truthful. Her face gentle with no regret etched onto it.

They sat in silence. Thinking about all the smoke and gunshots filling the air a few days ago, while the waves gently tried to wash away their sorrows.

"We're safe now. The boat got ready today. We will go to the safe haven this evening." Gally spoke up. His voice was a hopeful whisper. He that if he spoke of it their luck would run out and they couldn't reach paradise again.

A peaceful expression reached (Y/N)'s face. She let her eyelids fall shut again. A sigh that was trapped inside of her for years finally found the light of day.

"I will bring you to paradise. I promise." Gally cupped her face, breathing a kiss onto her forehead.

"You have said that before, you know? When we were children." (Y/N)'s expression never changed. Unconcerned about the secret she had just revealed.

"When we were Children?"

"Mhh, I already met you at the wicked camp." Her eyes opened abruptly, facing him again. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier." She studied his expression but his face remained stoic not showing what he felt.

"I don't remember."

"That's okay. It was a long time ago." Her body relaxed at that.

"Is that why you trusted me when we picked you up at the ruins?" She nodded. Their memories fluttered through her brain chasing each other and creating their relationship.

"I fell in love with you again."

"I fell in love with you too."

Her eyes closed. Smiling warmly. Her mind felt at ease. The pain in her abdomen not hurting as badly as it did moments ago. Warmth spread through her body and she thought if dying felt like this she would enjoy it. Because it smelled like freedom and peace and love.

But she would open her eyes again, a few hours later on a boat in the middle of the ocean and they would already see their paradise.

#writers on tumblr #angst #writers #prose #gally x reader #tmr gally #gally x you #gally x y/n #gally #the maze runner #maze runner fanfiction #the scorch trials #death cure #tmr #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagine #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #fluff #falling in love #newt tmr #tmr teresa #thomas tmr #tmr fic #im going insane #safe haven #wicked #angst with a happy ending

[she-walks-on-starlight]

Kiss of Death

a/n: This is Day 1! I will make a compilation of all these works at some point, watch this space - ✨

Pairing: Lae'zel x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Write about a first kiss

Warnings: swearing, blood, mild violence, mild threat, description of tasting blood.

Summary: Travelling with a stoic, broody Githyanki eliminates any chance of surprises... right?

Word Count: 997

The first time she kisses you, it takes you both by surprise. You were travelling the Risen Road, on your way to the Mountain Pass when you were cornered and set upon by a group of men and women demanding your valuables, and your lives.

The ensuing fight is a bloody one. Your attackers are well-armed and well-organised, a group of Zhentarim finally catching up with you, thirsting for revenge after finding you had not only killed one of theirs, Rugan, but also made off with the shipment he had been tasked with transporting. Turns out Zhentarim mercenaries hold one hell of a grudge.

Lae’zel welcomed the battle, unsheathing her gleaming greatsword with a piercing cry of “Htak'a!” and leapt into the fray, slashing, and stabbing in a deadly dance worthy of her heritage.

You were no stranger to a fight, not these days. Growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate had you learning to fight to survive before you even saw your tenth summer. You didn’t possess the same skill as Lae’zel but then few could match a Githyanki warrior trained in the ways of the blade practically from birth. You just thanked the Gods that she had chosen you as a worthy travelling companion, as she held a blatant disregard for most people she encountered.

You’re starting to tire, but you know you have to keep fighting. There’s no way you’re going down in a fight with these bastards, and you know Lae’zel will never forgive you if you give up.  You’re distracted by your own thoughts, a fatal mistake. The brute nearest you sweeps both your legs and you end up on your back, your blade knocked a few feet away. Useless.

The man chuckles, his eyes bright with malicious glee, raising his marred greataxe over his head. “This is for Rugan!”

You summon the last of your strength, leaning up and driving your elbow into his groin. “Fuck you!”

The man doubles over in pain, grunting angrily. His eyes blaze and he lunges forward, clasping hold of your throat. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands if I have to, whelp!”

“Hta'zith!”

The man’s eyes widen, and you feel warm, thick blood on your face. The blood is not yours; it is leaking from the man now slumping as life drains from him. The sharp tip of Lae’zel’s sword protrudes proudly from his chest. She does not move to help you up, instead she turns away to survey the now bloody scene in front of her, riddled with the fallen.

Jumping up, you dust yourself off, angling yourself away from Lae’zel as you surreptitiously check yourself for wounds. You discover a long, thin cut on your forearm that will likely close on its own in a few days. A gash just under your ribs presents a more pressing issue, but it can wait until you find a somewhat decent healer. You glance to the side, watching curiously as Lae’zel cleans her sword of blood in one sweep of her gloved hand.

Sighing, you retrieve your sword and sheath it, raising your voice so she can hear you. “Thank you. For the save. I didn’t see him, stupid really…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because without warning, Lae’zel is towering over you, her expression unreadable. You swallow, unable to find your words and apparently you don’t need them because she grasps your collar roughly and brings your mouth to hers.

Her grip is tight and unyielding as she presses you against her, the cold plate of her armour clinking against your fraying chain shirt. Her scent envelops your senses, a rich blend of sweat, musk, and blood. Her kiss is dominating, and her teeth are sharp, every now and then nipping at your bottom lip as she deepens the kiss to claim you entirely. Her tongue enters and you know it is futile to even attempt to take control, so you allow her to have you, a low moan tearing from your throat as your body awakens from her fierce kiss. All too soon, she pulls way from you and busies herself with checking the corpses for anything that can be sold or put to good use.

You blink rapidly. “Why did you do that?”

Lae’zel stares at you blankly. “I find your form pleasing, especially in the throes of battle.”

You gulp, feeling a blush creep up your neck and colouring your cheeks. “I was hardly any good back there. You had to save me.”

Lae’zel nods. “It is true, your stance should not be broken so easily. Your balance requires more training, and you must learn to grip your weapon in such a way that you wield it with more force and cannot have it wrested from you.”

You hang your head, but grin sheepishly. “Good job I have you around to teach me, huh?”

Lae’zel cocks her head to the side, analysing you. “I will gladly impart my wisdom for battle unto you.” She steps into your space again, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet her gaze. “But I would have you hold your head high.”

You wonder if she will kiss you again, taking the time to admire her eyes, green emeralds flecked with bronze and gold, a more precious sight than any petty gem. She considers you for only a moment more before she returns her attention to looting. You join her, still reeling from the kiss. Once you have swept the area, you nod to Lae’zel and continue towards the Mountain Pass. She shakes her head.

“No. We make for the Emerald Grove. You are in need of healing.”

You sputter in protest. “We need to reach your crèche!”

She silences you with a look, a devious look in her eye. “If you are to withstand my plans for you this night, you must be healed and ready.”

You gulp again, suddenly feeling very hot. “Well then…in that case, to the Emerald Grove!”

#my writing #fanfic #lesbian #lae'zel #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x fem!reader #writing challenge #bg3 #bg3 lae'zel #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #first kiss #bg3 spoilers

[bluebellhairpin]

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; Bilbo saves everyone from the Mirkwood prison. But the next challenge is just as hard - making you way down the river in one piece. Then - possibly even worse - convincing the bargeman to take you across the lake.

Warnings; Mentions canon injuries. Reader has a little panic attack. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, and is Human.

Listening to; 'The Forrest River' by Howard Shore

Part 8 || Part 10

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

You’d dozed off again. There wasn’t much else to do in the cell other than quietly talk to Thorin and sleep - maybe eat, if it were the time of day for it. 

By the start of your third day locked away, you were beginning to lose your appetite. Between fiddling with the new bead in your hair and digging the dirt out from under your nails, you wondered if maybe you should’ve struck a deal with Thranduil. Maybe if you’d offered to stay in return for Thorin and his Company being able to leave safely, he would’ve agreed. 

Even so, you couldn't decide if it was the right thing to do - it definitely was not what you wanted, you’d much prefer to stay with Thorin. But you knew you all were running out of time. Durin’s day was drawing closer, and you were still too far away from Erebor. 

You hoped Bilbo was okay. 

When you woke, it was with a start. Your cell door was opened, and standing before you was Thorin. You didn’t want to go so long without seeing his face again - seeing it now had your breath catching and it hadn’t even been three days. 

“We need to move quickly,” he said. 

“What? What’s going on?” you asked, hauling your still half-asleep body to stand and follow the Dwarf. 

“Bilbo is here, he has the keys. Found a way out.” You practically skipped a step in joy. 

As cells unlocked and more of your friends joined you, you did a head count - a habit you picked up from Gandalf, and in your opinion a very important one. You’d hate to have left someone behind in a place like this. 

With everyone accounted for, Bilbo led the Company across the halls and down deeper into the building - to the cellar. He then presented empty wine barrels for you and your companions to get into. There was quite a protest. 

You wanted them to listen to Bilbo, you swore you could hear people coming - soldiers footsteps getting louder by the second. You didn’t have time to make a fuss about the way you were getting out - you just needed to get out. When Thorin told everyone to listen to Bilbo you breathed a sigh of relief. 

With incredible speed, all the Dwarves were in their own barrels - Bilbo and yourself however, were not. Bilbo because he was still needed elsewhere, you because there weren’t anymore barrels left that you could fit into. 

You decided very quickly that this would be a problem for later. 

Running over to Bilbo, you pushed on the lever he was trying to pull, sending the floor under the barrels disappearing, and your friends tumbled into a ravine below. The door closed behind them, and you and the Hobbit were left alone. 

“What now?” Bilbo stuttered after a moment of blissful success. 

“We need to get down there too, come on!” you said, quickly making your way towards the end of the door with Bilbo's hand in yours, dragging him behind you. Together, with both your weights tittering on the edge of the trapdoor, it began to tilt, and soon you were both free falling through the air. 

A cold shock ran through you as you hit the water, and your instinct to open your mouth for a breath was suppressed until your head was above water again. The side of the barrel you clung to belonged to Kili, the young Dwarf clapped your shoulder as you pushed your wet hair away from your forehead. 

“Nice work Master Baggins,” Thorin said, “Now let’s go.” Everyone started paddling their barrels down the river, away from underneath the cellar. 

Eventually the river current started pulling you along, the need to paddle was no more. Soon after, the river turned to rapids, and the banks beside you were filled with Elven soldiers. Legolas included. 

He yelled ahead to a guard, and the gate beyond was closed, narrowly missing Thorin at the head of your barrel convoy. Legolas then took a few steps towards where you were acting like a half-drowned rat, and then spoke again as if you could understand Elvish - but boy, you sure could notice how you both had the same nose. 

 A horn blew from behind you, and you saw the Elven guards above draw their swords. However the one closest to you was shot with an arrow before he could even think. He dropped to the water between the barrels, and you managed to snatch his sword before he floated out of reach. You felt it might come in handy later. 

Then a huge number of the Orcs swarmed out of the nearby bushes, meeting with both the Elves and your group in a clash of weapons and bare fists. 

“Kili quick, the leaver!” you said, ushering him up onto the bank and towards the lever that would get everyone moving again - staying right here would be a death sentence. 

Kili fought his way up the stairs with help from the others below, and reached the top without too much trouble. For some strange reason, you began to get a sick feeling. As if that was far too easy considering the circumstances. 

The whistle of an arrow shooting through the air had the thought leaving your mind. 

You heard Thorin yell your name, and right beside your head you saw an arrow in Kili’s barrel. It would’ve only missed you by mere inches. You turned to see where it came from - a huge Orc with half his face twisted around metal was aiming his bow right at you. 

You thought you were going to watch yourself die, unable to do anything to stop it. 

Then an arrow hit him in the shoulder. He let go of his weapon, distracted by his new foe on land. Legolas burst from the bushes along the river, searching the river and barrels with a hard gaze. When his eyes met yours, you swore you saw him smile seeing you were okay.  

You supposed a brother like Legoals wouldn’t be so bad. 

A yell from Kili snapped your attention back to your group. He got shot by another Orc’s arrow. He crumbled to the ground in pain - he’d even almost had the gate open. 

You spared a glance at Thorin, whose eyes seemed to read your thoughts. He shook his head as if to tell you no, and leant against his barrel as if to come forward to stop you. You ignored him. 

You would not be stopped. 

Hauling the sword - previously hidden underwater - onto the bank beside you, you followed in a heap of wet clothes and cold flesh, and started the climb up to Kili. 

An Orc approached, blocking your path ahead, and you readied your weapon to strike, but it was shot down before it could get close. 

You turned to see Legolas again, running towards you and destroying every Orc in his path as he went. He was speaking to you in Elvish again, which was starting to get on your nerves. How he came to the assumption you knew how to speak it, you didn’t know - but you didn’t have the time to pull his socks up about it right now. 

You ignored Legolas’ attempts at speaking to you and went back to helping Kili, an act that made Legoals’ tone more harsh and demanding. As you went, you mostly ignored the Orcs, seeing as Legolas would take care of them before you got the chance, and put your full focus on helping Kili. 

You reached him, stepping past to throw the sword away and yourself into the leaver, opening the gate for the Company below, before turning on your heel and heaving an arm under Kili’s to help him stand. You’d managed to clamber back down safely, and helped see Kili back into his barrel - but before you could jump back into the water a hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back. 

“Why have you not been listening?” Legolas said, keeping you beside him and away from the ledge. “You have to go back to Thranduil.” 

You weren’t listening, only seeing how the barrels were moving away. If they went any further it would be horrible trying to catch up when the water was so rough. You tried tugging your arm away from Legolas, but his grip was like steel. 

“Let go!” you said, tugging again. 

“No, you must return -” 

“That hurts!” you yelled. For a moment it was like the world stopped. The forceful declaration of pain seemed to shock your half-brother. You took his weakened grip as a chance to break free, and without thinking further you took off running to jump into the river after your friends. 

After being out of it, the water felt warmer, however the chill still crept into your bones. You would’ve only been under for a few seconds, but when you resurfaced the gate and the Company seemed to be about as far away as each other. The current kept pulling you along, and since you were smaller and lighter than Dwarves in barrels, you caught up with them fast. 

Like a cat in a bathtub, someone grabbed you by the back of your coat collar, pulling you up so your head was out of water and your shaking hands could grab the edge of their barrel. 

“Dinna fash none lass, just hang on.” Dwalin said. You coughed, both because you still had water in your mouth and also because you had no idea what half of what he said was. Maybe there was water in your ears? No matter, you took to hanging onto his barrel like it was a lifeline as he went back to fighting off Orcs alongside everyone else. 

You had no idea why, but suddenly you couldn’t breathe so easily anymore.

Thorin couldn’t be more thankful that everyone had made it out of Mirkwood. 

Actually he could be, if his attention wasn’t on fighting off Orcs from every direction. He was glad all his friends were safe, that they were all able to fight, that Kili was able to get back in a barrel, that Bilbo was holding on - that you were holding on. 

Then he actually saw you. You, mostly underwater, looking half like death, barely able to keep your eyes open. You were panicking. If you were lost in the water now, you’d be lost forever - just like the Orcs they were all fighting. Thorin couldn’t have that. 

“Dwalin!” Thorin called, voice rough and half desperate, “My One!” 

Thorin watched as Dwalin reached over to grab your arm - pulling you further out of the water and speaking to you in a tone far too quiet for Thorin to hear over the fighting and rushing water. The Dwalin looked up, concerned. 

“I think your human has lost it!” he yelled. “Talking nonsense they are!” 

“What?” Thorin asked, brow furrowing in complete confusion.

“She’s speaks about a tree -”

“What tree?” 

“That tree!” Fili said, pointing behind Thorin. He turned to see a tree that had fallen across the river. On top of it were Orcs, crowding ready to reach the Dwarves that would float below. Thorin looked at the tree, and the weapon in his hand, and an idea sparked. He hoped those behind him would follow his lead - they usually did. 

He raised his weapon as he was about to pass under the tree, using his strength to cut into the trunk. He didn’t get it the first try, but a few more and it would fall. Luckily Bofur and Dwalin both followed suit, and the tree fell with the Orcs following. 

Those bastards never were good swimmers. 

The river ran faster, and soon the Orcs and Elves along the banks alike dwindled to nothing. Thorin knew it wouldn’t last - they needed to keep moving, keep a few steps ahead of those hunting them. 

One more sharp bend in the river had the rapids disappearing like dust in the wind - the river was much more calm, and there was an accessible embankment just ahead. He paddled over, discarding the barrel for dry land - even though he felt like he was taking half the river with him with how water-logged his clothes felt. 

The Company followed behind, all scrambling onto the rocky shore - he watched as Fili helped Kili out of his barrel, concern working onto his brow at his nephew’s new injury - there was no time for it now, but it would need to be looked at soon. All the more reason to get moving. 

Then Thorin found you again. You looked better now - before t was like something had shaken you - and he watched again as Dwalin and Balin both helped and looked over you. You shook your head - physically uninjured - and even from such a distance Thorin could see life return in your cheeks. 

Thorin realized, in that moment, that he no longer needed to watch to see if you were well. He had spent months silently watching out for you, wordlessly making sure you were okay after every encounter - an old habit he felt was going to take a while to get used to breaking. Now it was his every right to get to ask you - in fact it was expected. He wasted little time in getting by your side. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching your face, and your hair - the braid your bead was in was in-tact, and the bead itself was still fixed in place. That was good. 

“I’m okay,” you nodded at Balin and Dwalin, thanking them. You looked up at Thorin, smiling slightly, before turning away again, searching for someone else. “Everyone else? Is Kili alright?” 

“I believe Kili is the only one walking away hurt.” he said, “We need to move though, before the Orcs reach us again.” He watched your brow furrow. 

“Should Oin take a look at Kili first -” 

“There’s an Orc pack on our tail.” Thorin interrupted, then his voice rose as he addressed the Company, “Quickly bind Kili’s leg. We need to keep moving.” 

“Where do we go?” Balin asked. 

“What about the Mountain? It’s so close.” Bilbo suggested. He was half out of breath, but Thorin was starting to think the Hobbit was enjoying his adventure - with how enthusiastic he was about offering help. 

“There’s a lake between us and Erebor, we’ll never cross it on our own.” Balin replied. 

“Walk around it?”

“Orcs will catch us.” Dwain said, “With no weapons to defend ourselves? We might as well die here.” 

You were sitting half wondering what to do. 

Thorin wanted to keep moving - but all suggestions to where were shot down. Your Company had nowhere to go. 

You had brought your hand up to rest your head on your palm when you were scared half out of your skin. Ahead was a man. He had approached undetected, and he held up a longbow. At your startled rise to your feet, others also noticed. Dwalin first, defensively raised a stick only to have it shot out of his hands - Kili likewise with a rock. 

You felt that this man was not there to hurt you. If he was wanting you dead he would be shooting you all in the back, not defending himself. 

“Try it again and you die.” His words were spoken at Kili, but he was talking to everyone. The skill this man had with a bow rivalled the Elves accuracy - you didn’t want to test him. 

Still at the back of the group, you watched as Balin spotted something further down the river. He then approached the stranger. 

“You herald from Laketown, yes?” he asked, watching as the man’s attention went to him. “That barge wouldn’t be for hire by any chance?” 

The Company helped gather the barrels for this stranger - an effort to smooth over the attempted transaction playing before your eyes. 

You helped too - he looked at you like you were a sore thumb. Catching his eye as you placed a barrel before him told you his name - Bard. You also saw how he knew dragons, how he would do anything for his children, and how deeply he missed his wife - all before you were even told. 

“So what makes you think I would help you?” The Bargeman said. You felt yourself biting back a smile - you understood his caution, in fact if you were in his shoes you’d be reacting the exact same way. 

“The boots you have there have seen better days, like your coat.” Balin said, “No doubt you have hungry mouths to feed too.” He finished with a laugh. “How many bairns?” 

The man gave him a look, then answered. “A boy, two girls.” 

“No doubt your wife is a beauty too.” You felt yourself cringe - unknowingly knowing what was to come next. 

“Aye, she was.” You felt your heart ache for Bard. You felt a life - one that was hard, and spent all alone. The last thing you wanted for this man was to cause trouble.  

Balin started apologizing, and you heard Dwalin grumble beside you. 

“Enough of the niceties, come on now.” You were sure he was thinking he was being quiet, but you had half a mind to drag him away by the ear and scold him when you turned around to hiss his name in warning. 

“Why the hurry?” Turned out you weren’t the only one who heard. 

“What’s it to ya?” Dwalin said, shifting closer. 

“I want to know who you are.” Bard said, walking off the boat and back onto the dock, eyes scanning over the Company - stopping on Bilbo, but fixing on you. “And what you are doing in these lands.” 

“We are simple merchants, journeying from the Blue Mountains to visit our kin in the Iron Hills.” It was a good lie - Balin both told stories true and fake in the same way. You felt though that this man was just as clever. 

“‘Simple merchants," you say?” he looked at you again. “And what kin may you have in the Iron Hills?” 

You supposed a Human did stick out more in a band of Dwarves compared to a Hobbit. 

“The kind I would rather see sooner than later.” you replied, trying to find words you had not yet thought to speak. You thought, looking at Thorin by your side, that you would soon have kin there anyway. What was the difference to this and an early trip to visit in-laws? “But we will not be able to reach them without supplies.” you said, putting the conversation back on track, and Bard seemed to let the matter go for the moment. 

“Food, weapons, the like. Could you help us?” Thorin asked, directly stepping forward now that Balin’s subtle approach wasn’t working. Bard looked at Thorin, then down at the barrels you’d rode the rapids in. 

“I know where these came from,” he started, touching a scratch an arrow left in one of them. 

“And what of it?” Thorin said. Bard smiled lightly, tilting his head to one side. 

“I don’t know what business you had with those Elves, but it doesn’t look like it ended well.” You watched as Thorin’s shoulder rose - if he were a cat, oh how his hackles would rise. After a Hard stare between Thorin, and Bard, Bard began again. “No one enters Laketown unless let in by the Master. All his wealth comes by trade with the woodland realm. He would rather give you up then risk that, or King Thranduil’s wrath.” 

Bard turned away and Balin looked at Thorin. He spoke something you weren’t able to catch, gesturing to the bargeman, before Balin moved to Bard’s side. 

“What are you doing?” you whispered, leaning over Thorin’s shoulder to speak - and to watch Balin and Bard wager. 

“Making sure we get across this lake in time.” Thorin said.

#the girl who knew the end #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x reader #the hobbit x reader #thorin x you

[paganwitchisis]

Vampiric Antidote

Here is my own original work! Not Beta read.

Rated E (Explicit) Words:8,733

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, porn with plot, vaginal sex, creampie, aftercare, excessive porn and sexual content, fuck or die, sexual healing, PiV sex, and etc...

Relationship: (AFAB) Female Tav/Astarion

Summary: After a visit to the House of Hope, Female Tav is infected with a poison from the Incubus inhabiting Raphael's room. This poison makes Tav lustful and in a state of distress. 2 days later, they reach camp and Astarion sees her condition. Being familiar with this particular poison and the effects, he knows he is the only one who can save her. This is after Cazador has been eliminated and Astarion has chosen to stay a spawn and not sacrifice his brethren. Established Romance. Fluff and smut ensue. 3rd person POV, no descriptions on Tav so you can imagine your own character in their place.

STORY IS 18+ ONLY

AO3 Main

AO3 link

She knew something was wrong the moment the blade graced her skin. In actuality it was a small cut but she could tell something was off. Now was not the time though as Gale used Magic Missile on the foes, Shadow Heart close behind with her radiant damage. Karlach swung her great sword and finished off the incubus before them, the disgusting creature. It took little time to kill the remaining imps and to loot the bodies. They cleared the room, found the safe and left to steal the hammer…knowing another fight would await them. Before leaving however they enjoyed the rejuvenating spring but Tav still felt off. Her skin was warm to the touch and her nerves seemed electrified. She wasn’t sure how to explain it but she was slightly short of breath and these symptoms didn’t seem to quite add up.

Some time later they had finished a rather difficult battle with Raphael and won. The devil was finally slain yet Tav was not ok. Tav was dizzy, breathing heavily and felt like her flesh was on fire. She was sweating, and clutched her sword tightly as she slumped to her knees. She was covered in blood and visceral from the fight , her panting began to become gasps of air as she clutched her chest. The corners of her vision began to darken. What was wrong? Karlach, she suspected, was with her in a second as she felt herself raised up from the floor before her world turned black.

Time began to become distorted as she remembered brief flashes of faces and conversations. Gale and Shadow Heart bickering over what to do as her sweat soaked her clothes. Shadow Heart attempted Remove Curse but to no avail. Gale was going over books with little to no possible answers. Karlach was telling them that they needed a professional and to stop guessing. Tav blacked out shortly after and awoke some time later being carried in Karlach’s arms while on the road. How much time had passed was unknown to her. All she knew was the new symptoms that started to appear. Symptoms that had she been in her right mind she would have been very concerned but her mind was not fully her own at the moment. It started with the smell of vanilla.

Tav looked up to see that she was close to Karlach’s chest as she breathed in deep and realized the smell was coming from Karlach. Tav bit back the feeling deep inside her body as she felt heat stir within her loins. This was ridiculous, right? A cold draft of air bristled up Tav’s neck and chilled her heated flesh. She was lusting intently for Karlach of all people. This couldn’t be! Tav didn’t want to let this show but she couldn’t stop her hand ghosting her right breast and the moan escaping her parched lips.

“Uh…guys?” Karlach stopped walking and looked towards the two companions.

“That confirms my theory” Gale mentioned matter of factly. “It’s from the fight with the Succubus”

“Incubus” Shadow Heart attempted to correct.

“Whichever is correct! It doesn’t matter. We need to get back to camp. Someone there may know what to do.” Karlach interuppted.

Another moan escaped Tav’s lips as she thrust her hips upward in an attempt to alleviate the issue.

“And fast” Karlach added and walked more briskly towards camp.

Meanwhile at camp Astarion was frustrated. A few days prior Tav had told him she was invading the devils house and would not be taking him along! Of all the places to be going without him and she would choose Raphael’s own home, one of the most dangerous places she could go aside from Cazador’s. This would of course put Astarion on edge. A week past Tav had helped him defeat Cazador and earn his freedom and since then he had cemented his relationship with Tav. She was the first and only person he truly cared about. She never pushed him to do anything he was uncomfortable with and stuck with him from bloodlust to bloodshed. She rationalized that she needed Gale for his magic, Shadowheart for healing and Karlach for her expertise with Avernus. She wanted him to protect the camp. From what he asked as Orin was killed to protect Yenna sometime ago! All Tav said was that she needed him safe and she didn’t have much time to invade Raphael’s home.

Astarion never showed anyone he was worried of course but he was. Who knows what the devil had in store for them and the what if scenarios would plague him during his long nights alone.

When Karlach came back with a look of terror on her face and an obviously compromised Tav in her arms with Gale and Shadow Heart closely behind her, it seemed Astarion was correct. Astarion was before them in an instant to asses the situation. Tav was in her underclothes as her armor and pack was with Gale. She was drenched in sweat, her hands lightly teasing her body outside her clothes and moaning occasionally as she panted in delusion. Her eyes opened half way and she reached out towards Astarion.

“Help me, please!”

Astarions heart almost broke. He knew what was afflicting her as it coursed through his veins many times.

“She was wounded by a demon wasn’t she? A sexual demon.” Astarion demanded

Karlach gaped and questioned him “How do you know?”

“It is a poison native to them. She is poisoned and you never thought to cure her?” Astarion was secretly happy that it was late at night that the trio returned and the others were sleeping because his demeanor was blown the moment he saw her situation.

“We didn’t know! How…how do you…” Gale stepped forward to defend Karlach

“Do you think Cazador tortures his spawn with just knives?” Astarions tone was ice cold as he drew near Gale so he was within his personal space “Do you know what this poison does?”

Gale didn’t know how to respond because frankly all he knew was from his readings. It was more speculation at best.

“Enlighten me”

“Let’s just say it will kill her. Cazador used it on us because it couldn’t kill whats already dead but she wont be so lucky.”

“How do we cure this?” Shadow Heart questioned.

“How long has it been since she was infected?” Astarion snapped his patience wearing thin as he could see her condition was dangerously close to grave.

“Why does it…” Gale started

“How long!” Astarion cut him off, his eyes shinning more red than usual. Astarion almost snarled, showing his fangs.

“Almost right away when we got there. 2 days ago” Karlach offered the information.

“You let her suffer for 2 days?” Astarion closed his hands into fists, his temper rising. He tried to calm himself

“How do we cure her?” Shadow Heart chimed in, eager to see her friend no longer suffering.

“Cure? It’s too late to make a cure now! Hand her to me”

Karlach was apprehensive to hand the woman over to the snarling vampire before her.

“What are you going to do if there is no cure?” Gale asked.

“You can only let it run its course at this point.” Astarion held his arms out asking silently for Tav but Karlach did not relinquish her.

“But you said that it will kill her” Shadow Heart worriedly mentioned. Astarion took a breath and calmed himself before smirking at their inquiry.

“Darling…what I will be doing is between us but don’t worry, she will not die. I will not allow it…also I will not harm her. On the contrary, she will very much enjoy it” Astarion smiled still holding his arms out “but from what I can see, her condition is deteriorating fast and I wont be able to take her somewhere special. Things may get a bit…loud” Shadow Heart and Gale blushed knowing what Astarion meant while Karlach was already helping to transfer Tav into his arms.

“You know…maybe if we use the spell called Globe of Invulnerability, it may block out the noise. It wont last long though and there are no guarantees.” Shadow Heart offered. “Never used it for this reason before so not sure if it will work”

“That’s sweet of you Shadow Heart. Now if you don’t mind, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Astarion hurriedly darted towards his tent, gently put her down on his bed roll and turned around. Astarion dropped the flap on the tent to seal it and knotted the rope on the top of the flap and the bottom. He made sure no one was getting in, especially because he couldn’t have any interruptions for the adventures he was going to get into shortly.

“Astarion. Help me!”

“One moment love” Astarion grabbed a vial and held the back of Tav’s head with one hand and helped her drink the potion with the other. “There you go. I want you clear headed for this. Not that it will do you any good for what I'm about to do to you” Astarion smirked.

It took moments for the potion to take effect but Tav’s disorientation slipped away and she blinked a few times to reorient herself.

“Astarion?”

“Hush love.” Astarion put a finger to her lips as she took both of her breasts into her hands and she toyed with her nipples, moaning in frustration. Astarion smiled “You’re ill my sweet and it’s too late to cure it.”

“What? But…”

“Let me finish…”Astarion continued “I can help you through it as it runs it’s course darling. This illness will kill you without my intervention and you don’t have much time left.”

“How…”

“I’ll make love to you my dear.”

“No, I don’t want to force you to do anything you…”

“Did you not hear me?” Astarion interjected “I never said I would fuck you or have sex. I want to make love to you. I love you and having sex with you is not the same as what Cazador made me do…or what he did to me.”

“What he did to you?” Tav questioned

“How do you think I know about this love? Cazador would infect us with it, force us to want so badly and so deeply and the only relief we could get would be from him when and if he willed it. It was a sick and twisted game and I hated it but with you….it’s different. Hells…everything is different with you!” Astarion chuckled. “Also, in addition to making you scream my name all night, you should know this poison can last for days. I can also help with that. It’s in your bloodstream and I can…”

“I don’t want you to suffer too….I mean Cazador…he….” Tav stumbled on her words attempting to express her feelings.

“I wont suffer…not with you. Please consider it. I can make it feel really good, heighten the pleasure.”

“Astarion….it’s so hot.” Tav started to pull at her shirt and claw at her skin. Her pants came as gasps and she had such a deep ache between her legs. Every nerve was on fire, every sensation increased, her chest hurt and her head throbbed. Astarion looked at her and frowned.

In one feel swoop he tore her clothes off her to leave her bare but unscathed. The heat of her flesh staving off the cool night air as Astartion took her lips to his own. Passionately and deeply he drank of her before pulling back briefly.

“You’re running out of time.” Astarion traveled south to his prize and spread her legs wide. “I’ll be damned if I lose the woman I love to this wretched poison.” Astarion took two fingers and placed them at her already wet entrance and looked at Tav who was watching Astarion curiously. “May I?”

“Are you sure?”

Astarion smiled and plunged two fingers inside of her sweet peach, quickly adding a third as Tav rocked on the digits.

“I’m sure.” Astarion nipped at Tav’s left nipple. “Already this wet for me dear?”

“My chest…it hurts!” Tav cried out and Astarion changed gears. He acted in a more rash manner to help the woman he cared for.

“Cum for me. We need to blow off some of this tension you're having” Astarion curled his fingers in, finding a familiar patch inside that he knew would drive her crazy before he brought his lips down to her clitoris. Astarion under normal circumstances would take things much slower in bed but she didn’t have the time to do so. She needed this relief as soon as possible. Sure he could have jumped to this and not spoken to her but after being a slave to Cazador’s whims for so long and no having a voice with his own body? He knew how important consent was. Astarion alternated between sucking and licking just how he knew she would like it on her nerve cluster and pumped his fingers inside all the while he stroked that tiny patch of flesh just inside her core. She was going mad with lust. She tried to rise her hips but Astarion held them down with his free arm and devoured her.

This wasn’t the first woman he gave oral sex to but it was the first woman who he found he enjoyed doing it for. It was the first woman he enjoyed the taste of. Astarion found himself plunging deeper into her womanhood, moaning as he made her scream his name (and made Astarion secretly hope the spell worked on noise).

Tav dropped one of her hands to the back of his head and threaded her fingers in his silky white locks of hair as he worked her supple flesh.

Her orgasm crept up on her and without warning took hold. Her body shook in the pleasure that exploded inside of her as she gasped Astarion’s name. Astarion pulled back and smirked as he wiped his mouth and sat back on his heels.

“Now my sweet, with that out of the way we can do things the right way.”

“What do you mean? That isnt it?”

Astarion laughed before replying, bringing his hand gently up to Tav’s cheek.

“Far from it. It will keep ramping up until it is out of your system which can take a long, long time. I can shorten it if you will let me.”

“You mean by…” Tav sat up and felt the words ring true. She could still feel the effects and she lusted for Astarion still even though she just found such a sweet climax.

Astarion drew close and encircled her in his arms, dipping his head towards Tav’s neck, grazing his fangs against her skin.

“Im not Cazador. I wont put you through that again.” Tav responded.

Astarion started kissing her neck and slowly made his way north, kissing her chin, kissing her lips and pulled away to reply, his forehead touching hers and his breath ghosting her skin.

“You’re right, you are not Cazador. You wont make me beg for relief. I can trust you and we can enjoy a wonderful time in each others arms. Please let me end your suffering. We can have so much fun together” Astarion pleaded in his usual sing song voice before kissing the side of her cheek and making his way back to her neck.

A deep ache developed between Tav’s legs and she tried to close her legs to relieve the pressure but Astarion wouldn’t let her.

“I don’t think so my dear. I’ll fill you shortly but first you deserve more than that. Let me worship your body, lay back.”

Tav did as commanded as Astarion started to kiss her neck, collarbone and chest. He brought his hands up to fondle her perfect soft breasts as his tongue encircled her perked up nipples. Tav tried to close her legs or do anything really to relieve the pressure so Astarion brought his clothed knee up to the crux of her thighs and would grind against her core. Tav moaned, brought her arms up and clenched the bedroll fabric in her hands.

“My precious treasure” Astarion whispered as he brought her legs up and kissed the outside of her knees.

“You’re overdressed”Tav commented.

Astarion chuckled and took off his shirt with ease before getting up and slipping his pants to the ground along with his undergarments.

“Better?” Astarion asked?

Seeing his manhood being limp Tav frowned slightly, partially ashamed in thinking that her body didn’t inspire as much as she thought it did. She tried to cover up her concerns but Astarion was quick to notice. Tav knew he had a past history of abuse so she shouldn’t have expected much but she couldn’t help how she felt.

“What is wrong my love?”

“It’s nothing.”

“My dear…” Astarion kissed her passionately and slipped his tongue against hers, he brought his hand to the back of her head and delved deeper. He couldn’t get enough of her. He was engrossed in her feel and taste, he loved her with all his heart. His chest felt warm with how he felt towards the woman he was engaged with. He never felt this way before. Not even when he was alive.

He may be dead but in this very moment he never felt more alive.

Astarion apprehensively pulled away and continue to speak.

“You can tell me anything. Please be honest with me”

“You’re not…well…you’re limp. I thought you’d be hard with everything we've been doing” Tav admitted.

Astarion smiled. “That’s all? My dear, I guarantee you I want you, I need you in fact. It is just a fact of my…condition. I will be hard when I’m inside you but make no mistake, I want you and you are sexy as all hells.”

Tav smiled and dropped her hand towards Astarion’s manhood, taking it into her hand.

“Oh yes” Astarion called out

Tav began to stroke his cold skin, bringing it to life. Tav pushed Astarion back who yelped in surprise as she stalked up his body. Astarion usually was the one to stalk his prey but this power play was a nice reprieve and was curious to the vampire. Tav stopped above his now hard length and looked at Astarion.

“Can I touch you….can I make love to you?”

“Only a little love, tonight is about you as you’re the one poisoned”

Tav leaned down and took his cock into her mouth. Tav ran her tongue up the underside of his penis and sucked on him passionately. Astarion was moaning audibly and put his fist into his mouth to stifle his voice. Tav took his balls gently in her other hand while she took her right hand and stroked what she could not suck on. Whenever she twisted her head right, she would stroke left and give him a whirlwind of different pleasure. Astarion was lost in what Tav was doing to him. Astarion had a hard time doing it but he pulled away. He couldn’t lose himself. He needed to take care of her needs. He wasn’t going to lose her. He couldn’t.

Astarion smiled and pushed her back as he loomed above her.

“Im going to make you feel good. Trust me”

Astarion kissed her while he settled between her legs and spread them further. He grabbed hold of his cock and lined himself up before submerging himself inside of her. It took a moment for her to adjust to his rather large girth but once she did, it felt wonderful. Astarion rocked himself into a gentle rhythm while he brought his fangs to Tav’s neck.

“May I?”

Tav was breathless and in ecstasy, she held on to Astarion like he was a life vest in a sea of pleasure.

“Please.”

Astarion sunk his fangs into the side of her neck like he did all those times before. The initial pain was overcome almost instantly by pleasure that went straight to her groin.

The muscles inside of her moist, hot pussy clenched around Astarion’s dick almost right away which made it difficult for Astarion not to spill himself right then and there.

Astarion felt the rush of blood hit the back of his throat and the familiar taste of the loathsome poison. He drunk it all the same. It didn’t take long for him to feel the affects, his skin getting flush and the familiar pang of desire welling up inside. The woman of his dreams lay before him, naked and his fangs in her throat. His cock laid nestled between the silky wet folds of her hot muscles in her most private places and he felt in that moment the luckiest vampire that was…well…not alive.

Astarion felt like a predator in that moment and reluctantly pulled away from her throat, licking the wound a few times lovingly. All the while Astarion was ramming himself inside her. She gasped and brought her hands to Astarion’s backside, gripping intently to help him drive home. Astarion growled and ducked down to take her one breast into his mouth, his hands on both sides of her head to brace himself as he pounded her tight womanhood. Astarion pulled his head back up and roughly took Tav’s lips once again, slipping his tongue deep inside. Astarion moaned into her mouth as Tav locked her legs around Astarion’s waist.

Astarion pulled back from her lavish and lush lips to comment.

“You feel so good. You’re a Goddess my love” Astarion huskily whispered in Tav’s ear as he started ramming into her more deeply. Tav started screaming in pleasure. As she moved her hands to Astarion’s back. Astarion moved his right hand from balancing himself to the area where two bodies become one.

“You’re going to cum for me” Astarion whispered and started to encircle her clitoris with his thumb. Astarion started changing how he made love and instead of simply going in and out, he ground down and up to hit a special place within. Tav became speechless. It was like pure electricity exploding inside after every stroke. It went from the tips of her toes to the ends of her lips. Electric heat of pure ecstasy drove her eyes back and her toes to curl. Her orgasm was growing with every stroke but when Astarion dipped his head down to bite her again, extreme heat exploded inside of her and everything went white.

“Astarion!” Tav cried out, her nails digging into his back involuntarily. Astarion grined while his fangs were still embedded in her vein. Her muscles clenched around his phallus and it was like it pulled him in deeper. Like Tav’s body kept wanting the vampire and encouraging him to spill his seed. It didn’t take much of course as a few more strokes in such a hot and tight, throbbing environment became too much to bear and Astarion was soon filling her.

Astarion dipped his head on Tav’s shoulder as he caught his breath, his cock still hard and ready due to the poison.

“You ok?” Tav asked concerned.

Astarion chuckled. “My dear, Im better than ok. That felt amazing and just think, we still have a long night ahead of us with a lot more debauchery left”

“Still? It isnt gone?” Tav asked although she knew the answer, she could still still feel it inside her.

“Im sure you know the answer to that. You can feel it as much as I do” Astarion pulled his cock out as a show of what he meant.

“ARE YOU TWO DONE FUCKING YOUR BRAINS OUT YET?” screamed a voice from outside the closed flap, scaring the lovers. Astarion quickly threw on some clothes and didn’t care that he looked disheveled. He looked around at her destroyed clothing and threw some of his clothing towards Tav so she could be decent.

After a moment he unlatched the flap and ran his his fingers through his hair to fix it a bit, thankfully due to his vampirism he was able to will his erection to subside temporarily but it wasn’t a permanent solution. He clasped Tav’s hand after she was decent and stepped out to face the vexed party member.

Before them stood Lae’zel who stood arms crossed and and fairly upset. Not just her stood before them but quite a lot of eyes who should be asleep.

“I guess the spell didn’t work” Astarion commented dryly. Tav blushed but never unclasped her hand from the vampire next to her.

“You could say that. Carnal pleasures are fine but I would like to get sleep tonight if it is all the same to you.” Lae’zel chastized

Tav, thinking she could talk her way out of it, had the bright idea to question Lae’zel.

“What makes you think we were enjoying ‘carnal pleasures’?” Tav questioned

Astarion laughed at the attempt. At this point Wyll had commented from somewhere in the back

“You’re wearing his clothes…”

Tav blushed further and looked down. “I guess you have a point.”

At this point Shadow Heart, Karlach and Gale had come forward with their concern. “How are you feeling?” Karlach asked.

“You gave us a scare” Gale commented “although I see Astarion got a little hungry”

Tav looked at herself and was secretly happy that Astarion thought ahead to wipe away the blood smears from their activities. The puncture marks were still visible.

“Im just fine, although not out of the woods yet. Thanks to Astarion of course” Tav squeezed his hand

Astarion smiled, exposing his fangs as he chose his next words carefully. “She still needs….treatment. If you don’t mind, were going to get away from camp and let you all sleep but she will be fine”

Astarion surprised Tav by picking her up but before he could leave, Shadow Heart stopped him.

“Here. Take this”

It was a backpack full of supplies and a bedroll. Astarion smirked “How thoughtful of you. Thank you”

“I figured that with the night time…snacks that she may need something to eat” Shadow Heart acknowledged.

Astarion took the backpack in hand and Tav with him as he made his way to a clearing nearby but far enough away that it would not bother the camp. It was a lovely clearing next to a shallow clear lake, lit up by the full moon.

“Now my dear, are you ready for more? I want the world to know you’re mine” Astarion started his sentence close to her lips but drew close to her ear when he growled the last two words “You’re mine”.

A chill ran up her spine as he let her down and a familiar feeling flourished between her legs again. She gazed at him and realized how terrified she should be of him but out of all her companions, she felt the safest with Astarion. He was a predator, fast, able and agile. He was always hungry and hunted, a stalker of dusk and a pale lethal killer. A killer who she was safe with no matter what comes their way.

“You ok my love?”

“I love you, you know” Tav admitted while looking at the man before him

Astarion gave a sly smile and chastly kissed Tav before replying “I love you too….and I think you’re the first person I can honestly tell that to”

Tav tossed her shirt off before Astarion could rip them off and drew forward towards her lover. She look his lips and kissed him, running her hands up his chest under his loose shirt. Astarion responded in kind as he drank he up, his hands finding her beautiful perky breasts.

“Mmm” Tav moaned into Astarion’s mouth who smirked before pulling back.

“Get undressed before I make you undressed” He warned. He yanked his own shirt off and disrobed as Tav slipped off the last of her clothing. She turned to put the clothing on a log when she felt calloused hands grip her hips and soft flesh pushed against her backside.

Tav braced her hands on the log in front of her and spread her legs before him. Astarion loved the view. Astarion grew hard but he wanted to make sure she was ready for him so he dropped to his knees and devoured her womanhood.

Tav moaned loudly to Astarion’s ministrations, her special space long since been ready to be invaded by Astarion’s engorged length after all the love making they had made previously. Astarion pulled back from his meal to speak.

“Mmm, you’re body knows who it belongs to” Astarion calmly mentioned with a quick harmless slap of her ass. Tav yelped at the surprise slap and pushed back against Astarion. Astarion stood up and lined his cock up again like he previously did just minutes ago in the safety of their tent. Astarion pushed in chuckling about the memories he would be thinking about the next time he slept there, the memories of the rampant sex and the love they shared.

Astarion wasted no time pounding into his lover. Astarion rose his hand and slap her ass once more leaving a slight pink mark. Tav push back against Astarion in response and met him thrust for thrust. Astartion growled and leaned forward, brushed her hair to the side and sank his fangs into her neck once again. Immediately he felt her tighten up around him and push against him once again. Astarion felt so warm as he drank some of her blood. Fearful of drinking too much he pulled back and licked the wound clean. Tav’s arms collapsed on the log and Astarion grew worried he took too much and the effects of the poison had weakened her. Astarion knew the poison would be lethal if he stopped so Astarion looked around as he made love. He viewed the shallow lake and had an idea. Pulling out, Astarion heard the faint mewl from Tav of the missing appendage. It reassured Astarion she was ok.

Astarion pick his love up gently and made his way to the lake. He stepped into the water and it was cool and crisp to the skin. It was a nice contrast to their heated embrace. Astarion held Tav by the backside, her chest was against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Astarion sat down in the shallow area where the water reached their mid level and entered his lover again. Tav moaned into his shoulder as he did. Astarion held Tav up and began kissing her, whispering for her to wake up.

“If you want me to move, you need to wake up dear” Astarion kissed her cheek

“Youre so comfy” Tav whined

“If you don’t open your eyes, Im going to make you” Astarion snarled, worry starting to prevail.

Astarion dragged his fang gently against her ear lobe.

Tav opened her eyes and leaned forward, taking Astarion’s lips to her own which startled Astarion.

Astarion pulled back and commented “ Cum for me my love and after this you can sleep and eat. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even cuddle with you”

“Please! I love it when you cuddle with me” Tav was slightly embarassed asking for such a thing but after the passed few days she had, she didn’t care. Her body has been battered and been through hell. It deserves rest.

“Make love to me dear and I will.” Astarion requested and started thrusting into her while she rode on top of him. Tav rode him hard, moaning and grunting as she adjusted in the water while Astarion met her thrust for thrust. He played with her breasts and took his right hand to wrap around towards her back. Astarion smirked and thought he would show her something new. He brought a finger and dragged it slowly down the cleft of her ass, startling the woman.

“Astarion?”

“Trust me dear. You will love this” Astarion took his finger down the crack of her ass to the puckered muscle he sought. Astarion kissed her before snaking the finger inside of her.

Tav was surprised as she never had anything go inside her backdoor. She was no virgin when she slept with Astarion but this was something new completely. She did trust Astarion but she was unsure what to expect.

“Your ass is a virgin huh? You’re giving me something precious my dear. I’m a very lucky man” Astarion smiled and kissed her cheek “There is a spot right inside that will make you feel so good”

“I trust you” Tav commented before Astarion kissed her.

Astarion snaked his finger inside slightly deeper and pressed a patch of flesh inside and Tav closed her eyes in pleasure.

“Maybe we can try some ass play one day. I can show you so many ways to cum” Astarion brought his other hand to her clit so he was pleasuring her in every sense of the word. Tav was gasping at this point as she rode and ground into Astarion who was equally in bliss. Astarion was unaware he could reach such heights with someone he could emotionally connect with. Normally he would disassociate during the deed and afterword to deal with the act he was forced to perform. With her? He loved her. After Cazador he knew she was the one. It was ironic that he was her antidote when in a way, she was his. Sex wasn’t a performance with her. It was love and even though he was still learning how to show it and understand such feelings, he knew that she was his soul mate…a concept he never believed in until now.

Before Astarion was aware of what was going on, he found he was close to spilling his load but his lover had yet to quake.

That would not do.

Astarion ramped up his actions in an attempt to get her to finish with him. Astarion was many things but he was not a poor lover. Astarion took her lips to his own and deeply drank of her as he went to town between her legs. Tav’s legs shook and she was struggling to ride her lover’s cock appropriately so Astarion took that over. He made love to her at a punishing pace, forcing her to fall back a little which put more pressure on the actions Astarion was doing to her backside. The pressure, the actions to her clit and the love they made was a fever dream. Tav arched her back and came hard, the walls of her womanhood closed in tight and throbbed around his swollen appendage, forcing Astarion to spill over quickly. Astarion came loudly, something he rarely does but the pleasure was overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the poison or if it was because of the woman he was with but something about this night was different. Astarion knew he would have to consider this further and figure out what was going on but for the moment, he was enjoying the feeling of being alive for the first time in a very long time. Astarion didn’t want to give that up. He would rather die than have anything happen to the woman who brought him back to life. The woman who stuck by him through everything and claimed his heart. Astarion had a lot to chew on but he would never leave her side again. Not after what happened during the incident at the House of Hope.

Astarion pulled his hands free and seeing that Tav was only semi conscious, he helped to bath her in the water they were in. They were absolutely filthy. Between the battle scum that was on her from the fighting days past to the actions of that very night, a good bath, rest and food would do wonders. Of course Astarion was already full. He had already found a boar prior to Tav coming back to camp and then between that and the few nips he had? He was content. Now he had her to take care of.

He bathed her gently and took care of cleaning himself efficiently before returning to throw the bed roll out and open the back pack that Shadow Heart had given him. Inside he found provisions and surprisingly, clothing for himself and her. How far in advance did she see them needing such a thing? Astarion figured that come morning when they returned to camp, assuming the poison had run its course, they would have a lot to talk about. Between embarrassment and insight, there would be a lot to gleam out of speaking to their companions. Astarion wanted to know especially what happened with the demon that had infected his beloved. They usually make deals rather than fight so what was the trade off and why was it so bad?

Astarion managed to wake Tav up long enough to eat a few basic provisions before they cuddled up together on the bedroll.

In the morning, he found that the effects of the poison did not in fact wear off.

He remembered he had a vivid dream. He remember being hot and sweating quite a bit which of course is highly unusual for someone who is dead. He remembered feeling the cool air on his body, a blanket removed perhaps? All he knew was he was uncomfortable. He felt a cool tapping to his cheek which woke him up. Groggily he focused on the image before him. His beloved was above him asking a question but he couldn’t quite make it out.

“Huh?”

“You’re still ill. Can I suck you off?” Tav requested “I don’t want to assume and with your past I mean…”

Astarion felt like he hadn't had anything to drink in days and was parched. Tav brought a dead rat to him. Astarion was befuddled. How did she know?

“How?”

“I don’t like rats. It was a win/win. I figured you would like some breakfast”

Astarion wasnt a fan of eating the creature because of his history with Cazador however the rat was at least fresh and he was hungry. Astarion gritted his teeth and feasted on the rat and drained it dry, quenching his thirst but not his raging hard on

Astarion then noticed he was naked. He could have sworn he went to bed clothed in case anyone stumbled upon them.

“Where are my clothes?”

“You’re drenched in sweat. I took off your clothes to make you more comfortable. I hope that’s ok. You’re still sick. I'm ok Astarion, but I want to repay you.”

Astarion scoffed. “My dear, you are not repaying anything. I loved every minute of it. I wasn’t forced into anything.” Astarion started to stroke himself to relieve the tension.

“I want to suck your cock Astarion. If I’m yours, then you’re mine” Tav commented as she got eye level with his pulsating length. “Please”

“I guess we’re stuck with each other then” Astarion smirked devilishly “And I mean for life. Can you accept that? Vampires have a long life span…”

“I can. Can you accept I’m still mortal and will die long before you?”

“We’ll see dear” Astarion smiled like it was a challenge he just accepted.

Tav licked her lips as she glanced at the cock before her that Astarion continued stroking , pre-cum forming at the surface. Astarion stopped stroking and brought his hand to her cheek, guiding her to his wanting length.

“You never have to ask permission to make love to me, to suck me. I appreciate you asking but only you and just you are free to touch me. I mean it when I say youre the only one for me. I…” Astarion nervously chuckles and continues “ …I don’t understand it myself. I would fight the world for you. I love you.

“Let me make you feel good. I love you too and I cant stand to see you hurting. It is because of me that you’re still poisoned.”

“I told you…” Astarion commented “…you never have to ask. Please suck me off”

Tav wasted no time and started to relentlessly devour his rock hard cock. Astarion let his hands mingle into her soft silky hair as he encouraged her to deep throat his engorged member. Tav pulled back for air, kissing his cock as it rested against her cheek. Astarion normally wouldn’t be permitted to enjoy pleasure except to seduce others but it became a way of disgust. He had no voice. No control over his body. He wouldn’t let that taint this encounter. He was damn well going to enjoy it.

Tav licked the large vein on the underside of his penis before the head of his cock disappeared inside of her mouth. Astarion was watching everything happen and it was incredibly erotic, his pants became heavier as drawing his breath became difficult. The air around them seem to be humid.

Tav resumed her previous technique she tried on him that seemed to have a positive result. She brought her hand back up to his cock, clamped her lips tightly around what she could reach of his rather lengthy member and twirled her tongue around him. She cupped his balls and gently massaged them. Astarion rocked his hips into her as he chased release.

“Ahh” Astarion moaned as he rolled his head back in pleasure.

Tav moaned as she worked him, enjoying the feeling of her lovers most intimate parts entrusted into her care. The vibrations of the moan enhanced the pleasure he felt, Astarion clenched his hand around Tav’s hair as it rested on her head. It didn’t pull on the hair, just add a little pressure as Astarion was losing what little control he had. Astarion felt his balls tightening and his sweet release coming to conclusion. He was so close, just a little bit further…

“I’m going to…” Astarion started to comment and warn Tav about his impending orgasm

“Let me drink you” Tav huskily commented before resuming her work on his beautiful cock.

Astarion found himself turned on further by her words and with a cry, he came into his partner’s waiting mouth. Astarion waited until his member stopped spewing semen before he pulled away from Tav’s mouth who disconnected with a slight pop. A slight amount of cum dripped down the corner of her mouth unbeknownst to her. Astarion sat up slowly and leaned forward to lick the dribble of himself off the corner of Tav’s mouth. Tav chuckled at Astarion’s grimace.

“You drank that stuff? That’s vile!” Astarion remarked

“You taste wonderful” Tav remarked as she made her way up to Astarion’s level and sat next to him.

“You my dear need your taste buds checked. “ Astarion leaned over and kissed Tav regardless “All the same. Thank you. I feel a lot better”

“Do you think we’re in the clear?” Tav questioned in regards to the poison.

“I think so my love….although we’re going to have quite a bit of explaining to do when we return to camp” Astarion remark as he stood up, still naked.

“Dont remind me. Where are you going?” Tav would be lying if she didn’t admit how hot her lover looked. Although was he her lover? What were they really?

“Im getting a quick bath. Im not going to stay sticky and sweaty if I can help it my dear. Feel free to join me if you like” Astarion winked.

Tav laughed and replied “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight as it is”

Astarion stepped into the water until it was waist high and began to bathe.

“ The feeling is mutual. What I mean is we can do other things. Maybe sort out a few details”

“Details?” Tav began to remove her clothing as she made her way to the lake.

Astarion turned to face her and smirked at the naked woman before him as she gingerly got into the chilly water.

“Astarion was dripping wet and made his way towards her before replying.

“I would like to know how you got sick.”

Tav smiled “Alright, but I have a question too”

“Hmm…”Astarion pondered before dipping forward to kiss her, an offer that Tav eagerly reciprocated. Astarion looped his arms around her back and lazily kissed her. He kissed her on the lips, on the cheek, the forehead, the neck and the chin. Astarion pulled back “Now my pet, how did you get hurt, or better yet, why did you get into a fight with a sex demon?”

Tav blushed but figured one way or another he would find out about the deal she spat on during their latest mission.

“At one point we stumbled upon a bedroom where we found what looked like Raphael in skimpy clothes…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa….skimpy clothes?” Astarion interrupted and questioned.

“The better question is if you could classify the strips of cloth as clothing. He was practically naked. Then it talked and we came to find out that the demon was not Raphael but rather a gender changing….or swapping I guess you could call it…sex toy for the devil.”

Astarion sat down in the water and with a yelp he dragged Tav down with him who landed on his lap. Astarion wrapped his arms around Tav and waited for Tav to continue.

Tav rested her head on Astarion’s shoulder and continued the recollection.

“The demon asked that I could play along with it. It requested that I get undressed…..in front of Karlach, Gale and Shadow Heart. It got very upset that I wasn’t stripping naked….”

“Id have killed them all where they stood if I was there with you for even suggesting you fuck the visage of Raphael.” Astarion drew close to her ear by turning his head as she rested on his shoulder, his hand came up from the cool water and cupped her breast. “I won’t let anyone take you” Astarion’s voice made Tav shudder.

“So what did it want?”

“It apparently wanted to have sex with me….in front of the others for one. Secondly the offer was to give it a vow to copy my body….to let it use this copy of my body to have sex with all matter of beasts in hells. Every time my body would be used, I would know” Tav admitted. “I elected to kill the bastard and the imps instead. I got cut during the fight. I knew something was off but I was unaware as to what until we got to camp and you informed us”

Tav buried her face into the crook of Astarion’s neck. Astarion possessively tugged Tav out of his neck and claimed her lips deeply as he pined Tav against the edge of the lake. Astarion pulled back “Im very happy dear that you chose to kill it rather than fuck it. Before committing into a relationship, I would have said you could satiate your hunger any way you choose but you chose to be with me and only me. Especially the image of the devil for gods sake. Of all things to fuck, who would choose that?”

Astarion leaned forward and they claimed each other’s lips again but this time Astarion let his hands wander to her breasts and her thighs. Tav pulled back to warn him “Careful. If we go down this route we really will be walking funny back to camp”

Astarion chuckled and pulled back.

“So what question did you have my pet?”

Tav ran her hand down his hard chest muscles and looked him in the eyes before answering.

“What are we…to you?”

Astarion thought for a moment. Sure he could tell her the usual line about her being the first person he truly cared about but there was more to it now than that. They were lovers but Astarion never was thrilled about that term. He felt it was too casual for what they were now but what were they?

“Hello?” Tav waved her hand jokingly in front of the vampire’s face

“Hmm?”Astarion replied “Oh. Well, about that, I have a crazy idea that kind of just popped in my head.” Astarion smirked and chastely kissed Tav before he continued “If we plan to be with each other eternally, why not make it official?”

“Im not sure I follow” Tav confessed

“I mean, how would you like to be my wife?”

Tav was stunned into silence. Astarion was beautiful, strong, agile and fearsome. He was persuasive and cunning, not to mention very intelligent. This wasn’t even mentioning everything else that attracted Tav to Astarion when they first met. Tav has grown to care about him a great deal since then and has invested in his happiness, his future. She still couldn’t believe it though. This man, this vampire was proposing to her?!?

“Of course! If you’re willing to have a mortal” Tav enthusiastically replied.

“Will you knock it off about that” Astarion chided “I’m not going to lose you but that’s for another time. For now…”

Astarion picked her up abruptly with a yelp from Tav. Astarion chuckled and walked onto the land with his fiance who clung to him due to the dampness and the cool breeze. Astarion sat down on the bedroll with her and covered them both in a thick sheet as Tav let herself relax on the man before Astarion tipped her head up and kissed her languidly.

“You should eat. Then we must return to camp” Astarion muttered, his head draped down to rest on her chin after pulling back to speak.

“I don’t want to. They know we…you know”

“So?” Astarion retorted. “I have seen many people entering other people’s tents during our journey. Were not the only ones”

“How did you…” Tav asked.

“I’m a Vampire my love, I don’t need as much sleep as the rest of you.” Astarion drew the covers off of them and grabbed some new clothes from the pack inside the backpack. He tossed it toward Tav before donning underwear and his clothes himself. He didn’t want to be caught in a compromising position should enemies befall them. Astarion then grabbed some provisions and came back to where he left her.

Tav did as Astarion had done and gotten dressed as well. She sat down on the bed roll when she was handed some provisions by Astarion and began to eat.

“You’re cute, you know that” Astarion commented making Tav blush “We have to go back to camp because we need to get rid of the tadpoles in our brain. Once that is done we can rule the Underdark as partners…together!”

“The Underdark?” Tav questioned

“Well, when the brain is out of the way, I wont be able to walk in the sun any longer my sweet. But do not feel bad about that. We will be ruling over and guiding the 7 thousand spawn Cazador abandoned and be leaders of a new age. Build a new life as equals! How does that sound?”

“What about marriage? We cant get married in the Underdark, I don’t think you will find anyone to officiate it there” Tav giggled.

“The we do it before we deal with the brain, with our friends around as witnesses. This way we can enjoy the sun one last time before I must give it up forever” Astarion lamented

“Tav reached over and gently cupped her hand around Astarion’s cheek to pull him closer into a kiss”

“That sounds wonderful. But wont the other spawn have a problem with a mortal being…”

“My darling…” Astarion cut her off intentionally “ They would not dare lay a finger on you. I also told you, we will find a way to keep you with me….forever….but that is neither here nor now. What do you saw we head back?”

Tav looked down at the last bite of her provisions and ate it before repying.

“Yeah, we should go. “ Tav dejectedly said.

“Good because the sooner we are on our way, the sooner we can go looking for an appropriate ring my sweet.”

“Ring?”

“You are my betrothed arent you? It is only appropriate so everyone knows you’re off limits.” Astarion growled

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Tav smiled “Let’s go”

With that, the couple left the privacy of the secluded forest to walk back to the camp…or rather they limped partially in a way from their adventures the night before. If only the couple knew of what further adventures await them.

#astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x f!reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #baulders gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 #tav #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #sex pollen #fiction #my fic #baldurs gate #baldur's gate iii

[whatacaitastrophe]

Barbora x Astarion - for electricvaporwave

A one-shot I did for @electricvaporwave <3 I loved writing this for you.

Would you like me to write a BG3 one shot for you? Check out this post and send me a message <3

Song Inspiration: “The Moon Will Sing” - The Crane Wives

Content Warning: Canon-Typical Violence

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were actually trying to actively get us all killed.” Astarion scowled at Barbora as she laced up her boots.

“We have to go get them, Astarion. Cal, Lia, Lakrissa, Danis– they’re all going to die if we don’t save them.” Barbora countered, glaring at the vampire. 

This was how all of their conversations went lately: yet another innocent person would be in danger, Barbora would agree to help, Astarion would disagree, arguments ensued. It was a dance Barbora thought the two of them had moved past after all of the other situations where they’d gone out of their way to help people (the tieflings, the ironhand gnomes, the myconids - to name a few) that Astarion had come around on the idea of being the hero. As it turned out, he’d been biting his tongue for a while, and it all came tumbling out the second they reached the shadow-cursed lands. Perhaps it was the environment. Perhaps it was the looming threat of a Githyanki patrol sneaking up on them. Perhaps it was simply just the fact that they were (hopefully) close to the finish line and Astarion was getting anxious about Cazador. No matter what it was, Astarion’s antagonistic behavior was at an all-t against every suggestion Barbora made was wearing on her patience. 

“No, we don’t. We have enough problems of our own– it’s not our fault these people keep getting themselves kidnapped,” He argued. “You’re asking us to infiltrate the heart of Moonrise Towers and break people out of prison. Why bother when we could be as close as we are to getting these gods-damned tadpoles out of our heads?”

“If you don’t like it, then you can stay the fuck here.” Barbora snapped. Maybe the environment was getting to her, too. Even with Isobel’s blessing, and the blessing from the pixie they freed, the energy of this place…it was soul-sucking. Astarion was visibly taken aback by the tone of her voice and immediately Barbora felt guilty. They bickered, mostly about her moral compass and his lack of one, sure, but she never snapped at him like that. An apologetic look washed over her face, but it was too late. She watched as Astarion’s facial expression changed, as he gave her one of those looks he used to give her after they first met: cold indifference. 

“You know what? I think I will. The bleeding hearts can handle this. I’d say don’t do anything stupid, but…well seeing as this whole plan is stupid there’s not much of a point.” He said with an eye roll before sauntering off. 

“Astarion–” Barbora tried to apologize, but he cut her off. 

“Good luck with the prison break, darling!” He called from over his shoulder, not bothering to look back at her, and Barbora sighed. She would deal with that later. For now, she had tieflings to save. 

Barbora should have known this was going to go wrong the second Karlach suggested they jump down into the massive hole behind the warden’s office to see if there was a way to get around to the back of the prison cells. The presence of the hook horrors in the disgusting, fleshy mind-flayer oubliette below should have also been a sign. Only since they dealt with the horrors easily and Karlach’s theory proved to be correct, Barbora let her guard down. There was even a boat waiting for them at a small dock, ready to take them away from Moonrise Towers the second the prisoners were free and out of harm’s way. It was too easy, and nothing was ever easy.

It started when one of the guards cast “Hold Person” on Lakrissa, the tiefling ranger Barbora was fairly certain was dating the tiefling bard they’d also met at The Grove, Alfira. If the desperation in Alfira’s voice when she pleaded with Barbora and her companions to bring everyone back from Moonrise Towers was any indication, then they were probably together. Instead of continuing the short path to the waiting rowboat, Barbora turned around. She needed to break the concentration of the guard keeping Lakrissa in place. 

“Soldier, where the hells are you going? The boat is the other way!” Karlach shouted as she shot an arrow at an oncoming guard who’d emerged from the cell previously holding the Ironhand gnomes. 

“I won’t leave her!” Barbora shouted as she took off at a sprint.  

Karlach swore as she called after Barbora, but didn’t argue with her. The swearing may also have been from the spell that whizzed by the fiery tiefling’s ear, missing her by centimeters. The guard holding Lakrissa in place was stalking through the prison cell and Barbora readied her sword taking aim so that, if her blow landed, he would go clean through the gap in the guard’s armor at his elbow, hopefully causing him enough pain to focus on that instead of keeping Lakrissa in place. The blow landed, and the guard cried out with a yelp, freeing Lakrissa just as Barbora had planned.

“Run!” Barbora shouted to the tiefling as she began backing up herself with one eye on the guard.  Lakrissa did not waste time hesitating before heading back down the path Barbora had just come from. The guard was wobbling on his feet as he raised his crossbow. He was dazed, that much was clear, so his chances of hitting her were low. 

Only, it seemed luck was on his side that day, because when the guard fired the arrow, it found its mark in Barbora’s shoulder. From a close distance, it hit her with such force that the arrow went clean through her body, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole in its place as Barbora yelled in pain, collapsing to the ground. This was it. This was how she was going to die. Barbora could see around the corner just barely, and it looked like all of the tieflings and the gnomes had made it to the boat, even if she wasn’t going to. 

The guard seemed to get a second wind after getting Barbora on the ground and he began walking towards her, replacing his crossbow with his sword as he went. Her vision was blurry now as blood spilled from her body. All she could hope for now was that the guard’s killing blow would be swift. 

“NO!” A voice shouted, and…no that couldn’t be right. The owner of that voice was at camp. Wasn’t he? Was she hallucinating? Gods, if Barbora’s final thoughts were of him before she died, she would haunt him forever as punishment. 

Astarion’s dagger found purchase right between the guard’s eyes, and Barbora realized as the white-haired elf came into view that she was not hallucinating at all– the vampire had followed them to the prison and, if she didn’t bleed out first, he’d just saved Barbora’s life. “No– you are NOT allowed to die on me. Not like this.” Astarion panicked as he removed his dagger from the now-dead guard’s forehead. 

“‘Starion–” Barbora croaked as Astarion dropped to his knees beside her and wrapped his arms around her body. 

“Shhh, save your strength,” The faint sound of ripping fabric filled her ears, and suddenly the smell of Astarion filled her nostrils as he tenderly wrapped the wound in her shoulder. He’d ripped the bottom of his shirt for her. Astarion scooped Barbora up in his arms and swiftly carried her to the waiting boat, where Wyll, Karlach, and Shadowheart were all sitting with the fugitives. A collective gasp left their companions’ bodies as Karlach moved so quickly to help Astarion that she almost tipped the boat over getting out.

“Shadowheart–can you heal her?” Astarion asked the cleric desperately as he and Karlach lowered Barbora into the boat. Shadowheart nodded.

“I’ve used a lot of magic today, but I should be able to stabilize her until we get to Last Light, then we can get more help from Isobel.” That Shadowheart was willing to ask the moon cleric for help was a testament to how bad of shape Barbora was in. Astarion pulled Barbora close to him again, his armor stained with her blood. The warm glow of Shadowheart’s healing magic dulled the pain, and was enough to close the wound’s exit hole. The space where the arrow had entered was still wide open, but at least Shadowheart’s efforts had slowed the bleeding a bit more. 

“‘Starion, ‘m sorry–” Barbora tried to apologize for their fight earlier. After all, he’d been right. She’d nearly gotten herself killed. 

“Hush, darling, we’ll talk later.” He whispered and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head as she closed her eyes. 

It was dark when Barbora woke. Well, it was always dark in the shadow-cursed lands, but it was clearly what everyone assumed to be nighttime based on the way the lights in the barracks at Last Light Inn were dimmed– the room mostly illuminated by the fire still roaring in the hearth. Barbora slowly took in her surroundings, taking note of the fact that she was back in her camp clothes, and her shoulder had been wrapped with new, clean, fabric. There was still a faint throbbing of pain in her shoulder, and she winced as she attempted to sit up, but the wound seemed to have been healed otherwise. 

“You’re awake.” Astarion said softly, and Barbora jumped. 

“How long have you been sitting there?” Barbora asked weakly. She hadn’t noticed him sitting in the armchair next to the bed with a book in his lap. 

“Since we brought you in six hours ago,” He admitted. Six hours? The book in his lap looked like he’d barely touched it– had he spent that entire time just…watching her? As though Astarion could read her mind as she stared at the book in his lap, he chuckled. “I couldn’t stop watching you…I wanted to make sure you were still breathing.” 

Barbora’s heart did a flip in her chest. “You– you were worried about me?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, of course I was,” Astarion chastised her gently as he moved from his chair to sit on the edge of Barbora’s bed. “We have our squabbles, yes, but…you scared me today.”

Barbora stared at him and blinked. “What?” 

“I tried to deny it to myself for a long time. Then I watched that arrow go through your shoulder today and when you collapsed to the ground…all I could think about was murdering that guard for harming you,” Astarion reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That was the moment I realized you mean a great deal more to be than I’d planned for. If– if you’d died…I’d have burned Moonrise Towers to the ground.”

Barbora’s heart sped up in her chest. She’d always assumed Astarion was flirting with her because he flirted with everybody– not because he was actually interested in her in that way. From the sound of it, Astarion was also under this impression with himself until very recently. “I– I care about you, too. I hope you know that. And I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.” Barbora apologized, and she squeezed Astarion’s hand again. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling, I was an arsehole. Besides, I ended up following you anyway, didn’t I?” He reminded her with a smirk, and Barbora laughed. 

“And it saved my life…” She pointed out, nudging him slightly. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t think anything of it– like I said, I care about you. Keeping you alive is of great interest to me.” He teased Barbora and leaned over to kiss her cheek. 

Barbora yawned, her body exhausted from the day and her injury. “Lay here with me?” She requested, and Astarion nodded. Barbora gingerly slid over on the mattress to make room for the vampire, and once he was situated beside her, Barbora moved back towards him and curled herself up in his arms before drifting off to sleep. 

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #female tav #astarion x tav #astarion #fluff #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 16

Kal'tsit (Arknights) vs Entrapta Princess of Dryl (Netflix She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Kal'tsit is a Medic and Pharmacist!

Entrapta Princess of Dryl is a Roboticist, Programmer and First Ones' Tech Historian/Archaeologist!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Kal'tsit:

"Kal'tsit is the Officer-in-Charge for Rhodes Island's Medical Department and she uses her expertise to heal other operators in battle while being apart of the battle herself. Kal'tsit seems to be one of the closest characters to the player character "Doctor", being familiar with their past while Doctor has no clue due to amnesia. Apparently she has been around for quite a long time and, old lady jokes aside, due to all the experience she has she seems to be one hell of an op operator (though I have been unable to play Arknights myself so I am relying on the information of multiple different people who do play). Also she is my wife I love her <3"

"first of all, she is a cat woman (she is very old)... her companion is a green dragon crystalline monster whom she has a symbiotic relationship with... they understand each other and kal'tsit also commands them in battle she oversees the medical branch of rhodes island which is a research & pharmaceutical company trying to find the cure to the fatal rock disease that plagues this world and kills you slowly :( despite living in such a harsh world, she never stops fighting for and helping the people... even tho people want to kill her, she remains kind she mentors all sorts of people and trains them to be future doctors and in the game itself she is classified as a medic! hiiiiii demi its me lapis teehee i hope u have fun hosting this too!!!!"

"My beautiful catgirl ex-wife. She has definitely been alive for millennia, is a passionate ally to the downtrodden (you know, to atone for her previous history of war crimes), and founded a pharmaceutical company that largely does charity work for sufferers of the setting-specific incurable magic rock cancer. She's psychically bonded with the xenomorph-esque monster that lives in her spine. She wants to kill me. <3 For added context to the above, when I say "me" and "my" above, I refer to the player character of Arknights, the otherwise-unnamed "Doctor." While it is unlikely that Kal'tsit and the Doctor were ever literally married, the particular nature of their closeness, implied history, and current co-parenting has lead to "the ex-wife" to be a near-universally accepted fandom nickname for Kal'tsit. In a game full of hyper-competent characters with mysterious pasts, Kal'tsit is both the most competent and the most mysterious, and is genuinely a major factor in my fondness for Arknights itself."

"(cracks fingers) here we go-- dr. kal'tsit is a wise and kindhearted individual who travels and helps as many people as she can in need. when you first encounter her in the game, she comes off as cold and harsh, cutting straight to the point. however, that's only because the player character probably did something really awful (unknown atm). in events where we were able to explore her backstory and see how people reacted to her, we find out that she will save as many lives as she could through tactical negotiation, but she is ready to fight as needed if people fail to consider her warnings. as a doctor with an incurable rock disease (incuritis 2 JDHEJDJFKE), she understands the pain of that illness and administers help to people who get infected, no matter who they are, even if theyre some rando in the village woods. she also created a type of poison that would help in a quiet assassination, something that wouldn't be immediately detected by other forensic scientists until it was too late. i know i said that she tried to save as many people as possible, but this situation was a bit different. i would expand on it but i might be rambling a bit too much, but basically shes got a complex set of decisions and loves humanity a bit too much and also has the skills to back it up.she rocks both a maid outfit and a suit in canon"

Entrapta Princess of Dryl:

"She builds robots!!! She's curious and inquisitive!! She loves her robots!! She has the coolest hair and also I want to be her bestie. She's an absolute love"

"autism :)"

"Builds robots and computers for fun and companionship. Can take apart and understand almost any tech she is presented with. Autism lever set to max and I love her. Mandatory boob window in all her outfits and I've never related harder to a character."

"autistic icon, amazing inventor and app round excellent character"

"she has prehensile hair it’s literally the best thing i’ve ever seen in my life, it’s never once acknowledged by any of the characters as abnormal or explained in any way i’m literally obsessed with it. also autism queen"

"PIGTAILS!!!! autism"

"Entrapta is very bubbly and positive. She never lets anything like losing her friends or going to the bad side or getting put on a death-sentence island stop her from scientific pursuits! She actually drives a lot of the conflict in the story, as she explains the technological backstory of the world, and helps both sides be better at fighting. She loves data, doing experiments, and the scientific method. She's also in love with space. She is an autistic queen <3"

"phenomenal canon autism representation without being weird & shitty. also she’s so strange & wonderful & relatable in so so many ways. my computer is named Darla bc that’s what she named the AI for the spaceship in s5"

"She is THE science queen because she loves science so much and her love of it is INFECTIOUS. I don’t know anything about science but Entrapta makes it seem like the coolest thing in the universe. I love her"

"She ourple. I luv her"

"She's so passionate about her work. Takes through notes! Figured out how to hack her home planet!!! She's autistic as hell and I like her overalls."

"You won’t get autism like this anywhere else bestie"

"amoral mad scientist who flips between the good guys and bad guys, loves building so many inventions, ends up converting the head bad guy (for most of the series) to good through the power of love"

"She has outfitted her entire castle to be a maze, and installed electronic locks on some. Her staff seems to be mostly robots she has built herself. In good part reverse engineering or adapting ancient tech found on the planet. She's incredible at what she does and personally fixes, invents and builds a wide range of stuff from space ships to portals to a prosthetic exoskeleton to trackers to war machines. She can do it all. Autism win! Girlie has been criticised for being treated childlike or being unable to understand those around her to a ridiculous degree, but I'm honestly just glad she's not a Sheldon Cooper. Her favorite bots have personalities and therefore implied AI (but not the shitty kind), which means she's pretty fucking good at software too. She likes tiny foods."

"So very autistic about technology. Initially believes robots are way better than people, eventually makes human friends but also very much still has robot friends (I love Emily so much). Gets so excited about finding new First One's tech. Also her happy spinning around in a space suit in that one season 5 episode heals my heart every time I watch it"

"She's the planet's leading expert on ancient tech (sci-fi/fantasy universe) and develops most of the tech in the show and is very autistic about it. i love her"

"She is fun and funky. Chaotic neutral. Definitely some autism coding going on, which is very charming. She has a pet robot? It is cute"

"Bc she is ENTRAPTA!! No srsly she is such a well-written character. At times kinda morally grey but always lovable and great and she is truly amazing at what she does!! I'm pretty sure she's already been submitted but I wanted to make sure :)"

#stem sister scuffle #round 1 #kal'tsit #arknights #arknights kal'tsit #entrapta #she ra #netflix she ra #spop #spop entrapta

[jiubilant]

“There are twenty-two Company factories in Haafingar,” says the boy named Rafe, beaming as though he’d built them himself. “Ours is the biggest. Our godowns—can you tell me,” he adds, glancing down at his companion, “what a godown is?”

The urchin, shrugging her worldly goods over her shoulder, grudgingly shakes her head.

She’s wobbling in the shadow of the seawall, her legs still off-kilter after several seasick weeks afloat. Above her, the boy named Rafe strides confident as anything along the wall’s crumbly top, the salt wind whipping his curls and his crumpled shirt-collar. When he’d met the urchin at the gangplank a few minutes back, he’d tried to take her sack and carry it himself. She’d flashed her teeth at him, which taught him better. Or so she’d thought, because—

“Here,” he says, and thrusts down an inky hand.

The urchin stares at him until he retracts it, then clambers onto the seawall without help. It’s a better vantage than she’d expected. She squints down, the wind buffeting her fur, at the tangle of masts in the bay—and beyond them the biggest Company factory in Haafingar, where Rafe is prenticed. Where she, too, will be prenticed. A warren of warehouses, their piers sticking out like fat wooden tongues, sprawls in the shadow of the rich coves’ city on the peak.

“Godowns.” Rafe nods at the warehouses. A stone slides from the wall beneath his too-small boot; he windmills his arms to keep his balance, but does not, the urchin notes with reluctant respect, slow. “That’s where we store what comes in. And what goes out. Mostly we export iron, tin, timber, tallow, potash—”

Beneath the urchin’s feet, the wall bucks like the deck of a ship. She throws out her arms, too, hackles bristling, and wonders with despair how she’ll ever mill a third-story glaze again—

“—kidskin, stuff and fustian, furs, woolens, worsted, and worse—”

He’s trying, the urchin thinks, to make her laugh. Like she’s some scrib. She firms her mouth into a line. “How ‘bout imports?”

“—oh, coffee, calico, indigo, serge, silk, sugar, spices, saltpeter—careful!”

The urchin flattens her ears at him, irritated, then realizes that she’s tipping. The wind rushes sideways past her ears before she twists on her feet, lashing her tail like a rudder, and saves herself and the sack by sitting down hard—thump—on the seawall.

“Beneful,” she grumbles, then kicks out her legs to glower at them. Bryn and Lleryn would laugh themselves sick. “Stupid stumps.”

“You’ve still got your sealegs, is all.” Rafe plunks down beside her. There’s an ease in his movements, an unthinking absence of caution and calculation, that the urchin resents. “Close your eyes and breathe in real deep.”

The urchin glowers at him, now.

Then she closes her eyes—not because he told her to, she tells herself, but because she wants to get her bearings. She opens her mouth and tastes the strange new air. Sweat. Stockfish and oakum. Birdshit. Rafe, beside her, smells oddly of both ink and laundry-lye.

“Um,” she says, eyes still shut tight. Gulls cry over the ruckus of the shipyard. The wind carries a snatch of bawdy song, bawled in a tongue that the urchin does not know, from the warehouses—godowns—below.

When she opens her eyes, she thinks, she’ll wake up. It will all go away.

Beside her, a rustle. “Um?”

“Um,” the urchin confirms. Her voice comes out rough; she swallows and tries again. “What’s saltpeter?”

“Glassblowers use it.” Rafe’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And Master Rano says people up there”—up on the peak, the urchin assumes, but he could be gesturing to Sovngard for all she knows—“put it in their beer.”

“How come?”

“Keeps it cold.”

This is so strange that the urchin opens one eye. She’s still on the seawall. There’s stupid Rafe, too, grinning at her.

“There,” he says. “Better?”

The urchin opens her mouth to snap at him. Then she closes it. The wall is no longer swaying from side to side.

“Here,” he says again, and stands, and puts out his stupid hand.

The urchin narrows her eyes at it.

Then she takes it—and, with a haughty sweep of her tail, lets him hoist her up.

#skyrim #microfic #oc tag #shurri #rafe and alf

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

If you're down for writing drabbles... August and Ambrose hunting together?

Whumpril Day 10 Shiver

TW: injury, blood, referenced murder, prostitution, fear of rape, human whumpee, vampire whumpers, multiple whumpers

Note: The victim in this story is a prostitute, but no sexual violence occurs and she survives. This gets a bit heavy, so take care.

Temperance stood on a street corner, far too scantily clad for the chill winter night. She tried to catch the eye of a man, but he passed to the other side of the road. Too many people were indoors, after all, nighttime was meant for rest, not sin.

Two figures approached Temperance. They were properly clothed for the weather, wearing long cloaks, hoods obscuring their faces.

Temperance gave them her best smile, clasping her hands in front of her and suppressing a shiver.

"Hello sirs," she said brightly. "Would either of you care for a few hours of my time?"

She cast her eyes to the ground in practiced shyness.

"Follow us," one of them said quietly.

"Yes sir."

Temperance followed the cloaked figures into an alleyway. It was suspect, but she hardly had a choice in the matter.

Days had passed since someone last hired her, and her owed rent drew nearer. She had not eaten for over a day, causing her legs to tremble under her as she walked.

"Listen very closely," one of the figures said. "Stand against the wall. Do not cry out or make any noise. We will not kill you unless you scream for help."

Temperance did as she was told. She may not have the luxury of an education, but still she was not stupid enough to argue.

Being raped was better than being murdered.

The two figures pulled their hoods down, and Temperance caught a glimpse of fangs as one spoke.

"Cooperate and you will not be badly hurt."

Temperance nodded, blinking the nearly frozen tears from her eyes.

With fumbling fingers, half numb from the cold, she unbuttoned her blouse.

"What are you doing?"

Temperance stared up at the vampyrs accosting her, not daring to speak.

"There is snow on the ground, yet you are still trying to undress. Do you have any sense?"

Temperance buttoned up her blouse. Still she shook with fear, her teeth chattering slightly, thankful, for she would be spared such dishonor, not that she retained a great amount of honor to begin.

One of her accosters gripped her chin, gently turning her head upwards. He ran his tongue over her throat, and it quickly numbed, as though crumpled hand put to sleep, pinpricks running across her skin.

When fangs broke through her soft flesh, she felt nothing, save for light pressure and a trickle of warm blood running under her collar.

In swift time, he made way for his companion, who drank from the same wound.

When they had finished, Temperance brought a hand to her throat, finding the wounds to be already scabbed over.

One of the vampyrs smiled with his blood stained mouth, and pressed something into Temperance's hand, before taking off into the night with his companion.

When they were truly gone, Temperance sank to her knees, a familiar position, dizzy from blood loss.

She examined then, what the vampyr had left her, and found it to be two coins. She recognized not the make nor design, only that they were fashioned from what looked like gold.

In her delirious half-dead state, she couldn't help but smile.

Taglist: @elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @mx-arsenic @anomalys-taxonomy @devourerofcheesecake @whumpsday @echo-goes-aaa @itsmyworld98 @verysmallandverygay @kisaisacat @whumpycries @whumpshaped @whatwasmyprevioususername @interdimensional-chaos @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Event: @whumpril

#Whump #Whumpblr #Drabble #Our Man Flint #Vampire whump #Vampire whumper #Human whumpee #Multiple whumpers #Lady whump #Lady whumpee #Whumpril #Whumprilday10 #Cold whump

[roseduroi]

When the Darkness Fell, iv rose

mob!tom holland x reader

part iii.

-

“She won’t disappear just because you’re a second away.”

“I know that.” Tom grumps out, it’s always that nasty feeling on the tip of the tongue when he feels as if admitting there’s more to a shelled man than he lets on. He’s stuck like the filthy gum glued to the shoe with her and he can’t help but feel at fault that everything is shit. There doesn’t seem a way outta that painful nibbling feeling that pulls at him to the depths of non-existing sentiments for her when the doctor points out his fondness, leading to attachment. 

It’s irritating.

He has nothing figured out and it drives him up the wall. His fists curl up so tight the knuckles turn the shade of white and he feels how anger pulses through his veins as his whole essence just itches to let it out.

“Where’s Bader?” 

Tom suddenly asks, forgetting where the young doctor was heading with the conversation.

“I don’t think beating the guy to a pulp would be wise of you this instant.”

or

Tom is clueless why his heart is so jumpy as non-existing feelings pull him to Y/N.

iv.

“I need a favour.” 

“I feel like I’m a little bit too drunk for that.” 

Tom sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and briefly closes his eyes. The cold bites his bare hands as the harsh winds sweep through his jacket. He paces back and forth in the backyard of his home as dark skies above him cover the night’s blank stars. 

The sun is starting to set. What a chaotic day Tom would say, not that it was unusual for him, just… perhaps different in a way that made his heart stir. The days are short now, everything gets darker and darker; some curse it, some find joy in it. Tom is of those who aren’t bothered by the dimness of the night, finding peace within it rather than only seeing chaos among the lack of rays when the sun is set. 

Consider him a fool or just a random guy who seeks comfort in the dark.   

“It’s hurried.” There is a hint of annoyance in his voice as he speaks to the man over the phone. He wouldn’t push if it wasn’t that hurried. 

He hears distant laughter, chatters of strangers in the background, and then the door opening and closing until eventually, all the voices fade away in the far distance. It’s not hard to guess where his best mate is; the bar music far too familiar to his ears. 

“But it’s my day off today- ow! What was that for?” Harrison whines as his companion, Tom assumes, swats him on the arm. 

“Sup, Boss!” He hears Maliza greet him. “Whatcha need?”

In different circumstances, Tom would laugh, chuckle at them but his thoughts are way too busy to let him slack off, pushing him to the edge, to the limits he doesn’t have. He knows he has given them a day off but this is more important. He wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t so urgent. “There is an unconscious body and I need you to take care of it.” He is blunt, but there’s nothing to hide. Though his words are hushed, they are careful of the people who might hear. You never know who is listening; you never know whom not to trust.

Yet Harrison and Maliza are some of the most trustworthy people Tom knows. His neighbourhood, where he stayed occasionally, is rather quiet too. People around here were simple. Simple, large or medium families were just living and minding their own business. That old couple just around the corner. That old elderly lady with her sick daughter just down Smith’s street. Some aunties and uncles, and that mailman, never scared of the old couple’s dog. The neighbourhood is certainly tranquil. 

Maybe the tranquil that lured him here, that what it was.

A few years back he met Maliza through Harrison whom he knew his whole life. She saved his best mate from the very, oh-so-terrifying flu. That day Harrison was smitten with the doctor in white, and the hospital’s door never stopped opening that week. Harrison just kept coming back. Then it turned out she perfectly handles a rifle, and to this day she’s one of the best of Tom’s people. 

When Tom looks at the couple, every time something stirs within his ribcage, it fastens his heartbeat. It’s odd, the feeling so unfamiliar it adds to the goosebumps already over his skin when the couple holds hands or Maliza wraps the ribbed scarf around Harrison’s bare neck when the harsh winds sweep under their coats. What was that nonsense that forced his blood to pulse more rapidly if this all was bullock? Jealous was a bitter word Tom refused to use. In other words, Maliza wasn’t his type and he knew Harrison ever since they were in diapers. He simply was not interested in what they did behind closed doors, but perhaps jealousy did play a part in making his heart pound faster. 

Something ached he didn’t know could even hurt. Envy of a feeling that wasn’t his to own left a wicked twist inside his bones. 

They completed each other, and Tom only was half of a heart.   

“You want what now?” The male gasps and drags Tom out of his misery thoughts. 

The misty cloud of tiny droplets of water appears before the very man who drags the words out his throat. “It’s complicated.” 

But it really isn’t that much, to be honest.

“It’s that Bader guy, isn’t it?” Maliza intervenes, proving just that. Clearly, she’s the sober one here, having connected the dots quickly. 

He nods. He knows they can’t see it. “Yeah,” so he adds, providing a short but clear response, displaying no other sign of wishing on continuing further. “I’ll send the address.”

“Got it, Boss,” Maliza answers for both, calling him the nickname once more that she had given him all these years back when they stormed in that abandoned fabric.

“And.” Tom purses his lips. “I need you to stop by and check in on her. And maybe grab some of her clothes too. Warmer ones if you might.” Tom says. He kicks the dirty, frost-bound ground, the same ground beneath him that was more sturdy than his heart. Hilarious how one name can make a man like him fidget like a teenager in love. 

But the days are getting colder and the frost - like the fine artist it is - carves the shapes of leaves and petals on its own chosen sheet in early mornings, traces the edges- and Tom (along with many others) will have to scrape off the ice of his windshields because he doesn’t have a garage. The shortage of time in daylight will convert the lifeless autumn trees into Christmas decorations, lining up forgotten alleys and avenues with lights and carols. The spirits will awaken and Tom…

Tom is just done with that time of year. 

“Yeah. No.” Harrison hiccups on the phone. “I don’t want to lose my hand just because I went through your love life’s underwear drawer.” 

But Tom would never. 

“Harrison.”

He wouldn’t.

“To-Am.” He hiccups.

Right?

“Fine.” He knows Tom would never. “Just know it’s Maliza’s hand.” But he takes a necessary precaution; being drunk that is. 

Tom hears the sound of a car unlocking. He guesses Maliza’s driving and he hangs up the phone without saying anything further. His fingers are red, hands insensitive to the bitter cold, but he struggles to type the message.

-

She didn’t want to talk to him, Tom admitted that through clenched teeth a couple of hours ago when he tried to open the door. Which was locked.  Which she locked after the incident. Which was locked because he was deemed unreliable. Which ended up bothering him quite a great deal.

He even made her a sandwich. 

And he let that Bader guy punch him for being an arse, for having let the emotions get the better of him. Tom was an impatient man as much as he was possessive, and sometimes these features never got along. She wasn’t his and neither is she now. But a part of him wished so if he was truthful with himself. That day when he accompanied her, he thought he felt something stir in his heart, a feeling he had never once believed to be true. But after all their encounters and those lightsome banters in between, and after seeing her stare at the moon like it was the sun after late-night shifts at the cafe of Ben’s, Tom felt attached like a child needy for a toy. His primitive beliefs came crashing down, they collapsed to his feet like steadfast soldiers falling for their country. Didn’t matter how much he tried to fight them, those bastard sentiments for her; they blinded his vision, tricked his mind and bound his will, but they got to his heart. 

She got to his heart.     

That’s how much of a fool he was. 

Tom winces at the faint bruising on his cheek as the water hits his face; he tries to wash the day’s heaviness and burdens under the cooling water, splashing it all over his face. Bader did pack a hefty punch and Tom could clearly feel it now, he also isn’t ashamed to admit it. Sheer power didn’t correlate to how much force one could wield, but rather the ability to see one’s faults that come within it. Back then it didn’t matter how much the blow hurt, his feelings were overcoming him; it only made him stay alert. 

The bruising on his cheek is reddish now, indicating it’s fresh as the skin under his eye throbs, tender to the touch.

But somewhat the blow doesn’t feel enough. The pain he feels absorbing his cheek doesn’t compare to the weightiness of the heart as sourly he wishes it would. He cleans his face with a towel, careful around his bruised cheek and when he walks out of the bathroom, Tom’s gaze instantly falls on the locked door to his room, where Y/N is.  

His body aches to turn around and knock, maybe his heart even cries for him to write a cheesy letter and slip it under the door just for her to read how past hope he is to earn her forgiveness, like in the sappy movies he would never watch. But his muscles resist as his glance catches a glimpse of the sandwich he previously made. Tom’s too arrogant and proud. 

He remembers they would bicker about this personality trait of his, too. 

“Being arrogant won’t get you anywhere, you know.” 

“Would you look at that now,” Tom answers her, smugly raising an eyebrow. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” 

“This is different.”

“How come?” The brunette challenges, speeding up his steps to pass the girl. He stops right before so suddenly she halts in her footing and almost trips over her feet as they tangle together to stop her from bumping into his chest. He cockily smirks.

“You simply obsess over me.” He hears her say after a heartbeat of silence and chuckles, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Look who is being cocky now.”

“Not at all. You love being talked about. And this just proves my point I just stroked your ego.” The girl emphasises, knowingly bumping his shoulder as she then passes him. “You think you’re mighty because strangely people fear this short man. You put on this false charm, but beneath it exists some cruelty. And arrogantly you think I will swoon over you like those past girls because you’ve decided to give a poor girl her 15 minutes of fame. I’m not going to fall for that.” 

It was one of their first encounters together. 

It was during one of those many late-night shifts he would accompany her on later in the future. But that night she left him speechless. She perhaps did stroke his ego if not actually damaged it more. They barely knew each other back then; that night was just a couple of weeks after they first met, and Tom would admit, he did embarrassingly torment the poor soul. Maybe not that drastically, but he did happen to be given coffee at all those same times, at that same cafe Y/N happened to work. AND surely during her work hours. He was truly an intrigued guy, indeed. 

So, one night after he finished dealing with his work related-once-in-a-lifetime-not-involving-anything-filthy-kind-of-business in Ben’s cafe - paperwork, Jesus - the clock had been ticking past twelve, his coffee had been long consumed and the dirty cup had been already taken away by a tidying waitress (Y/N for that) ready to close, but Tom was already one jump ahead, resisting to leave. He had insisted on accompanying her to whatever-she-was-heading. He didn’t know back then and he had never been entirely too sure where to she was headed until eventually he had found himself actually on her good side and she’d told him. 

Y/N intrigued him, she challenged him like nobody else did and he wouldn’t have it any other way around. In a sense, she saw right through him. She saw the things he wanted her to see and she saw more beyond what he wished she wouldn’t. But he had finally felt normal and nothing else had mattered after. She talked to him naturally without feeling on edge around him.

And yet, he failed to see through her, who she was coming home to. 

So maybe, in the end, he was going to knock on those damn doors for the tenth time this day and MAYBE he wasn’t going to bolt the second his knuckles touch the surface and he doesn’t receive a response in a mere second. Maybe because he owed it to her. Because he really ought to for her. 

Instead, a sharp knock on the front door scourged right through his heart. 

Harrison

He really should stop getting distracted. One of those days it will get him killed.

Tom walks over  to the entrance and slams the doors open. Ahead there’s Maliza with a bag of clothes next to the entrance and further on a barely steady Harrison metres away with his grasp tight on the fence. 

“Hi, Boss.” The young woman greets.

He hardly nods her way, though, stepping aside to let her in. His eyes are on Harrison, warily observing over the mate, and then glances back at her. 

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s just had one too many. Tried to make his way to the porch, but… yeah. You know.” She awkwardly chuckles and places the bag of clothes on the ground. The girl turns to Tom, tilting her head. She’s inspecting him too, though they both know (and Harrison, too) she isn’t much of a detective. 

He half smiles, knowing. “Yeah.” His smile is half sincere.

“Suuuuup, mate!” He hears Harrison slur. The man waves drunkenly at Tom and almost trips over his feet at the sudden and forgotten gravity, pulling on his arm. Tom instantly moves forward to the doorway but halts in his steps midair as if something was holding him.

Y/N

The man frowns, complicated. 

“You should help him to the car before he breaks his neck.” Maliza interrupts, sensing his hesitation. “I’ve got her.” She warmly grins, showing off her portable bag stuffed with medicine. 

“She doesn’t really talk to me,” Tom admits. 

It’s kind of pathetic actually. He’s displaying his emotions, opening up about such a tragedy like not being able to enter his room, his OWN room and it’s mildly annoying that he’s fussing about this girl who’s upset with him. And he still hasn’t figured out why this bothers him so damn much.

“She’s just scared.” Maliza offers. “I know I’m not the doctor of that speciality, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out how traumatic it must have been for her.”

Tom huffs. “You don’t say.”

“I always say.” She smiles, never taking him to heart. “And always scramble all those prescriptions.” 

Tom stays silent. His gaze is distant and this is just complicated beyond him or checking over Harrison.

The girl sighs, seeing he’s bestowed to the ground like a solid pillar. “What I’m saying is get some fresh air while I check in on her. She won’t disappear just because you’re a second away.”

“I know that.” Tom grumps out, it’s always that nasty feeling on the tip of the tongue when he feels as if admitting there’s more to a shelled man than he lets on. He’s stuck like the filthy gum glued to the shoe with her and he can’t help but be at fault that everything is chaos. There doesn’t seem a way outta that painful nibbling feeling that pulls at him to the depths of non-existing sentiments for her when the doctor points out his fondness, leading to attachment. 

It’s irritating.

He has nothing figured out and it drives him up the wall. His fists curl up so tight the knuckles turn the shade of white and he feels how anger pulses through his veins as his whole essence just itches to let it out. “Where’s Bader?” 

Tom suddenly asks, forgetting where the young doctor was heading with the conversation.

“I don’t think beating the guy to a pulp would be wise of you this instant.”

Tom whips around and glares. In a way, he feels infuriated that she dares to speak such things when knowing nothing of it. That man signed his death wish the moment Tom saw him lay his hand on her and harm her. “You know what he did to her?” He snaps as if she cannot understand and the words she spits are poison. “Do you even imagine?”

She only shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t.” She says it softly because she truly cannot picture fully the caused pain she hasn’t gone through, but it doesn’t mean it’s the lack of sympathy Tom accuses she’s showing. Her heart forever stings, perhaps this is why she’s a goddamn doctor or why Tom’s ways of handling certain matters seem justified to her. Because neglecting a problem isn’t the same as solving it. “But do you think coming back to her with bloody knuckles is gonna make things better? Make her feel less scared?” She hisses in a whisper, firmly standing her ground and keeping her voice unwavering. Her hand ripples through the air as she abruptly waves her finger in his and outdoor direction. 

She breathes a heavy breath when Tom’s silent. “Doesn’t matter.” She speaks, straightening herself up. “He’s not here. Sam’s got him. Haz was in no state to handle his own body, let alone another man’s.”

“Fine.”

Tom storms out the instant as the door slams with a thud.

-

When Maliza calms down and walks over to Tom’s room, nobody greets her when she knocks. The dead silence she is met with is deafening as she awaits. She tries again with a few more knocks, thumping on the door with the back of her hand and with a sigh at the back of her throat.

“Hi,” she tries again. This time introducing. “I’m Maliza. Just like Melissa but with an a… I’m Bo- Tom’s friend. I’m a doctor.” She shifts on her feet, her sentences distant from each other as she’s trying to figure out the words. “He’s worried about you. And you know Tom, he can be very persistent when it comes to the things he wants. I’m here to check up on you.”

By the end of the sentence, Maliza thinks nobody will open the door, no more words float her tongue and she slightly begins to panic at the stillness. Her hand hovers over the door for a second more to knock, but thanks God, there’s no need and she feels a huge rock roll off her chest. She hears the lock pop, and the door slowly opens. 

She’s startled at first. One, this is the first time she’s seeing the myth of Harrison’s bragging about why Tom “is truly smitten”. At some point until Tom’s call, she had even begun doubting something she had never seen or heard. And two, the girl’s indisputably gorgeous. Even behind the puffy eyes and hollowness shining in them either from exhaustion or distress which the doctor cannot distinguish between, Y/N looks beautiful.

Maliza sees her cheeks sunken and pallid and senses her tension and she too grows wary at the stability of the girl’s physical state. Sorofly, she looks unhealthy. Unhealthy to the point of collapsing whenever. 

Y/N heavily leans on the door, nervously gripping the edges as if she cannot support her own weight when her injured foot touches the ground. She keeps it raised the whole time and there’s no doubt she hides the grimaces of pain.

“Hey,” the girl greets back after a heartbeat of silence. 

Maliza is suddenly back in the room when the hoarse whisper harshly pulls her back from observing the girl like a sharp needle, picking at her skin. Her pupils constrict, concentrating over again and she rushes over to Y/N. 

“Here, let me help you.” She says.

“I’m okay.” 

Her movements are swift when she storms to Y/N’s side, ignoring the girl’s denial of help and her own heavy steps. She curls one arm around the girl’s waist to aid her walk to the bed. She doesn’t push the pace bigger than Y/N could manage and patiently awaits for the girl to adjust, adapting herself to the girl’s footing when she feels Y/N trusting her weight onto her body. 

Maliza was sure her touch couldn’t be gentler, only tightening around Y/N’s waist the few times the girl swayed or lost her footing so that they both wouldn’t go tumbling to the ground. But all those times, Maliza could swear she heard a hitch of breath or felt an uncomfortable shift away from tightening grip.    

But she remained silent.

The mattress dips as Maliza gently helps Y/N get comfy on the bed and then takes a seat next to her. The girl mutters a thank you but after that, it’s just silence. The stillness is awful. Y/N doesn’t look at her, she doesn’t even pay her any attention. Her shoulders look like the world’s burdens were dropped onto her and everything that was never ever hers was left for her to carry.  

When Tom called and she and Harrison were in the bar, the gravity in his voice was far from anything astonishing. Tom always sounded important when things got heavy. It was as if he was suited for giving commands. But today the urgency under the words felt strained and Tom rarely got strained.

“Are you in pain?” Maliza suddenly asks, searching for her eyes which she doesn’t find.

Y/N stills. Her eyes wander everywhere but, “Uh… no,” she shakes her head, frowning a little as if trying to concentrate on feeling any type of pain. “Only when I move my leg.” She answers honestly. It’s better than lying.

Maliza nods. “Might I have a look?”  

“Yeah.”

Maliza makes sure to be gentle now too. Her touch is light as she unwraps the neat binding Tom did little by little, trying to be as careful as not to graze the swollen area unnecessarily. She’s quite proud of him as well. She admits, Tom did a pretty good job at bandaging Y/N’s foot. Although, the doctor will never say it out loud. He’s cocky as is. 

The skin underneath the binding is harshly swollen and bruised, the bluish and purplish colours over the sprain site mark the torn ligaments. Maliza’s touch feels cool against the bruised area and Y/N almost wants to shrink away at the uncomfortable, almost painful feeling as the doctor slowly examines the damage, gently pressing over certain areas harder than over others. But when Maliza suddenly tilts the ankle to the side, Y/N recoils from her touch like burned.

“Sorry,” the doctor grimaces apologetically. “I just have to examine it.” 

The girl nods, relaxing a little. “It’s okay.” She breathes out and stretches out her leg fully again, entrusting. “It’s just… The pain is quite sharp.”

“Yeah,” Maliza agrees, taking her ankle into her grasp once more. She gently gestures over the sprain site under the bone. “See this?”

The girl bows her head a little. 

“It means that one or more ligaments in the lateral ligament complex are sprained. It’s actually quite common and usually happens from an accidental twist or turn of the foot. Which also explains the swelling and the limited movement of your ankle.” She explains, lifting her gaze upon the girl. “But I won’t bore you with the aggravating names.”

Maliza laughs quietly, gently lowering Y/N’s foot on the bed. She quickly grabs her portable bag stuffed with medicine that was thrown to the ground at the beginning and she digs through it, searching for a small tube in the mess within it. She grins as she grasps it. “This should help with the swelling and pain. Other than that, rest, ice or compression will be fine too.” 

“Most importantly, don’t stress your ankle until the pain and swelling subside. Which means, limited walking, exercises or any other activity which puts pressure on your ankle or it could lead to potential damage. For now, I’m going to apply some gel to ease the pain, it will provide a cooling sensation, so just you know.”  

The gel is cold against the bruised area as Maliza spreads it over the tender skin as Y/N feels the cooling sensation tingling over pain. This time she finds comfort within it. Maliza compresses the ankle with the elastic bandage after. She’s way quicker than Tom ever was. 

She looks at the doctor and for the first time this whole evening, she truly gets a look at her. 

She pictured Maliza just like that. Dark brown hair shaped the young doctor’s face; the wavy bangs covered the softness of her round eyes which Y/N felt could stare right into the depths of the soul. Freckles faintly dotted her cheeks, but she thought it only added to the childishness of her looks, while the blue button-up shirt and the skinny white jeans added to the profession she had chosen. 

She really did look like a doctor. 

Maybe in another lifetime she and Maliza were friends. She hoped they were.

“Tom cares about you.” 

The four words break the silence and Y/N’s breathing stills just that instance. She longs for her to continue, to complete her thought. She craves the connection and comfort of words. But what if the sentence screams a but after the sweet beginning and the girl hesitates to listen forward. She grew attached, attached to the gentleness and need of love as now she had felt the taste of the forbidden fruit. She yearns for those words to get closer, but denies now her already aching heart the vulnerability to open like the flower to the burning sun.

But Maliza continues, nevertheless her hurting heart. And she still listens to every word carefully.  

“I don’t know what happened between you both and it’s not my place to pry, and by no means I’m trying to justify his actions… which can be unexplainable sometimes. Or whatever he did… But I meant it when I said he was… is really worried about you.”

And she takes these words cautiously too. 

“Just don’t tell him that I told you that.” The young doctor tries to laugh away the seriousness. “He has this tough guy’s reputation in his head.”

What she said wasn’t partially a lie. In a way, Tom did need to maintain this tough guy’s reputation, but it didn’t quite come from shielding his emotions. Quite the opposite, to tell the truth. In a sense, he had to maintain the authority to keep order, and Maliza knew, she’s seen there was no one better than Tom when it comes to leadership. But he didn’t build relationships, only when it was mutually beneficial or required. It was a flaw he entrusted to his closest allies.  

Y/N tries not to let her heart stutter at this fuzzy nibbling feeling, but it just wraps around her heart and makes it hammer. She won’t tell, she wouldn’t. But she considers whether this was said in case she did admit to him she saw him soft and maybe just in case for her to be prepared and denied if she ever spilt the beans to him. After all, Maliza’s tone was light and blithe, open to interpretation, to her heart… but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t say, and final. 

But she doesn’t need to say anything else, wonder whether he actually regrets it. Because speak of the devil… and he says plenty. And maybe her heart flutters the second time in one heartbeat, but she’s too hurt and he’s confusing.

“How’s her leg?” 

Tom’s voice booms across the room and startles them both. Neither of the girls had noticed when the devil himself came into the picture and stood in the doorway with his arms folded across the chest. If he’d heard anything, he never mentions it. 

Maliza feels like the question was never meant for her and he foolishly mixed the pronouns as his eyes don’t even glance the doctor’s way. Tom never takes his eyes off the tensed girl, but it’s far from the sharp gaze Maliza’s used to seeing in his eyes when he’s serious. 

“She has a mild sprain.” The doctor answers and she swears Tom’s gaze hardens the instant his eyes land on her. His sudden change almost makes her eyes roll at the hopeless man. He’s head over heels and it shows. “Shouldn’t take more than two weeks to heal. The first days are always the hardest, so make sure she gets well-rested and doesn’t stress her foot. Ice and compression are necessary to make the healing process quicker.”

Maliza explains what she thinks Tom already knows, but she says it more to reassure him than out of duty, to be honest. She gathers her stuff and stands up then, sensing her business is done here for the evening. Her gaze slips to Y/N and she grins; she’s really looking forward to meeting the girl once again. 

“Here,” she withdraws a small card with a number. “You can call me whenever this guy gets annoying.” 

“The guy’s right here.”

But neither of the girls responds; Maliza hands Y/N the card with her number and steps forward to the doorway. She gives one last wave, saying goodbye and exits the room.

“I'll see you off.” Tom states. He glances over at the girl who’s secretly observing and the sides of her cheeks taint over with a light shade of pink as he catches her eyes. She instantly averts her gaze. “I’ll be right back.”

Tom walks Maliza out and stops at the doorway, a little further. The evening is cool, it steals away the warmth of the home. Maliza can see the familiar figure fast asleep in the front seat of the car, the seat belt slung awkwardly over his shoulder. She doesn’t want to keep Harrison in the cold any longer (though, she and Tom both know he won’t remember a damn), but she quickly swirls around to face Tom. 

“She’s a nice girl.”

 Maliza shifts on her feet at the cold wind.

“I know.”

“She could really use a friend.” The statement is kindhearted, but it makes Tom’s heart clench. “It’s Christmas soon. You can’t just leave her be for the whole two weeks if you’re planning on making her stay. And I know you are. She’s lonely, Tom.”

“She can’t even look at me. How am I supposed to fill in her days with me if she doesn’t even want me around?”

“Maybe you should start with sorry.”

-

When Tom walks into his (his..? hers..? such a confusion) room, she hasn’t moved a bit. She’s fidgeting with her fingers when he halts in his step. The warm room light falls onto her hunched figure and shadows the tired features. She doesn’t face him nor try to acknowledge his presence, but he knows the tension followed into the room the moment he walked in. Her shoulders carry tautness, and he himself has jitters all of a sudden.

He yearns to see her eyes, but there’s dread of what he would see in them and it’s kind of crushing. Hence, Tom doesn’t walk closer nor sit on the bed next to her. He keeps his distance in hopes of seeing her loosen the tension.

“How are you feeling?” He asks and he genuinely means it. But to be fair, he doesn’t expect to be answered and he is not wrong. After a few moments, Tom continues. “I asked Maliza to bring some of your clothes here, so you could have something to change into. It’s not much, but we can always-”

“I want to go home.” She whispers out of a sudden. She doesn’t mean to interrupt, but his words are suffocating her. The girl never lets her eyes wander anywhere but the soft carpet and when she does look at him, she hugs herself, rubbing in a soothing motion her upper arm, because it feels like she’s sitting in the hot seat. Y/N blurts a desperate plea, but it’s despairing not for nothing.

What is her home, by any means?

She doesn’t want her clothes here, she doesn’t want Tom to go out and buy her some because it isn’t much. Y/N doesn’t want any of it and it just makes her sick. She wants to sleep in her own bed, in her own room and in her… in her and Matthew’s home. 

She just wants to go home. 

But this time, she is the one who’s met with silence.

-

it was a struggle to force myself to come back to this fic (it took months), even if i had some chapters planned in advance. it’s also a struggle to read my own works; there always seem to be flaws 

nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed 

[i’m not sure whether You still want to be tagged here, so lemme know if You want me to cross you out]

tags: @thomaslefteyebrow @lxvrgirl @jewelrybean25 @vip-access @tomhiho @revrse​ @that-slutty-bitch @supernatural3002 

#tom holland #tom holland image #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #tom holland series #tom holland au #tom holland imagines #tom holland reader insert

[talesofskyrim]

Oc List:2-26-24

Name:Mable

Age:42

Race:Nord

Class:Warrior Mercenary

Primary Weapon and Armor: Set of Steel armor with an ebony greatsword

Secondary Weapon:Bow and Arrow

Backstory: Mable hasn't had an easy life to say the least. She was born in Kynesgrove to a poor Mining couple,and her first 6 years were spent living in a tent. When she was 7 her parents moved to Stonehills and managed to get a simple shack as a house,however 5 months later,bandits would attack the village and her father would die defending her mother and her.

The loss of her father absolutely crushed her heart but it broke her mother even more. Her father always had a way of soothing her mother's temper and once he died,her grief manifested in anger and resentment which Mable often got the brunt of.

When Mable was 10,she began to work in the mines herself,taking the shifts her mother didn't or wouldn't work,just so she could avoid her. During which time her mother became dependant on mead to get through the day,which only made her rages worse.

When Mable was 13,all the rage her mother had came to a head,when during an argument she struck Mable with a hot pan,which hit her lower back and caused her to fall and fracture her leg and hit her head,knocking her out. Her mother was so distraught by what she had done that she wept every hour and day that Mable was unconscious,praying to all the gods for them to help her child heal. Mable would remain unconscious for 3 weeks,her injuries having been tended to by her mother and a priestess of Mara that had passed through. When she had awoken she found herself easily tired and prone to headaches that would lead her bedridden for days,sometimes even weeks. Her mother immediately quit drinking once she was on the mend and began to work on her temper.

At 16,Mable and her mother moved to Whiterun where her mother found work at the local Inn,and Mable was put into the local school at the temple of Kynereth. She was taught how to read,write,cook,and run a household. She also got some of the companions to teach her how to fight,so she could make her own way in life.

At 17,she met a guy named Bryn Stone-Hammer and they quickly fell in love and married shortly after. Within months of the marriage,Mable was with child and would have her first set of twins,Hrognar and Inga.

She would go on to have 2 more sets of twins and then one single child,their names were,Juniper,Irnkstaar,Dengir,Isobel,and Agatha.

When Mable was 26,her happy life was destroyed. While moving to their new home in the forests of Falkreath,they were attacked by a group of bandits. Her husband was killed,as were 3 of her children,Inga,Juniper,andDengir. She managed to kill the bandits and save her remaining children but she had lost 4 people she held dear.

Mable had no time to grieve.Now a single mother,she had 4 kids to comfort,clothe,feed and raise all on her own,and with bandits becoming bolder,she often spent many nights in a chair,holding her trusty sword and staring at the door,her children safely tucked in the basement.

She tended the farm for a few years before another tragedy struck,two actually.

At age 32, her remaining children fell ill with plague and died,Agatha was the first to go. Then not even a week after she burried her last child,she was kidnapped by a deranged vampire who planned to make her his "eternal bride."

Luckily she managed to kill him before he could turn her. She would also get a letter later that year notifying her of her mother's passing.

Now,as a 42 year old woman,she has been working as a mercenary and wandering all of skyrim. At first it was an attempt to meet her end,but now she has found new purpose in aiding others. If her sword and arrows keep even one person from loosing those they love,than she will be content. She is closed off and can come off as cold,but she is quite kind and simply needs time to open up.

#skyrim dragonborn #skyrim #Mable #oc

[scottish-purple-shrubbery]

Something Wicked

Pearlescentmoon started this new world with hope and the love for her soulmate, whoever they were, warm in her heart. She encountered friends, joked with them, accompanying one of them into the fiery depth of the nether to keep him safe

She left the nether, tired and aching but fulfilled, and a bit mischievous. Her and her companion joined those on the surface, seeking their partners. They knew they were not each other's, but the journey had still been fun.

Only to discover that her partner had abandoned her, declaring that she had abandoned him, for running off with someone who wasn't her soulmate while he and her friends partnered kept the two of them alive while they kept hurting themselves. 

Scott and Cleo left, declaring each other their soulmates, shunning the ones that they actually shared life with. Pearl stood there, spurred, and turned to Martyn before he too, walked away from her. 

All she had left was Tilly, her dog

The days passed and Pearl forged her own path. She was still friendly with the other people trapped within the limited world, but she no longer watched them with naive love. This world had abandoned her, dropped her when she needed help. 

It was only her and her Tilly now. 

Tilly kept her company as Pearl built her tower in the sky, fortified with stone so no one could chase her out with flames and smoke. Between buildings, she sought to torment her soul bound, purposely falling into deep snow and letting the deadly chill seep into her blood. She grinned with the knowledge that somewhere, Scott burned with the same cold fire

The players kept fighting. 

Some in broad daylight, stealing resources and griefing buildings without any worry of being caught, while others traded whispers, sowing seeds of distrust. 

Pearl watched all of this from her tower, idly amused as madness chattered in her ears. Tilly would whine and snuggle close, offering her comfort. Pearl cuddled her back, her Red-wrought heart filled with love for her companion.

The Ranchers were the first to fall, ending just as they began—alone. The Canary and his Coal Mine perished as the Canary rushed home, only to fall to the wandering creatures of the End. 

The Coal Mine felt the blows and lifted his shield, desperate to save himself and his bonded, only to die alone.

Then it was the King and his companion, rushing to defend a keep already invaded by outsiders. They died by the hands of a friend too lost in their own blood lust to realize exactly who they were targeting.

The fallen Watcher made a fatal error, thinking he could play another trick on the other Players, but was not knowledgeable enough, not wise enough, to realise the dangers he was putting himself and his soul bound through. 

The Smooth Talker collapsed on his horse, confused and lost in the woods, not knowing why his heart was shutting down within his chest, with nothing to cause it.

Then the ones that both wore borrowed faces slowly burned within the hellfires of the Nether, ending as they began, together.

The husbands feel the revengeful bite of wolves, a pack chasing them as their owner stalked her prey, diamond axe gleaming with her murderous intent, fully under the thrall of the Red.

They would have been just the next ones to fall, but no. 

A bucket of lava was placed, killing Pearl's precious Tilly. After that, she hunted with rage and sorrow. Her only companion on this blasted world—gone, just like that. 

Her sweet little darlin'.

Bdubs fell to her blade, taking the imp with him.

Then was the one she'd started her journey with. The one she had followed into the hellish world to keep safe. The one who had abandoned her to try and win back the favour of his soulmate. Martyn betrayed her, yelling about a curse. He blamed the dog, her sweet little Tilly for her madness, claiming that she had corrupted her.

Pearl laughed, the sound equally unhinged and grief-filled. 

'Tilly's not alive anymore!' 

There was no one to blame but herself. 

She knew that. There was something wicked within her, and it was time to unleash it.

Martyn and his bound, the Undead, perished soon after, falling to their deaths.

Now all that was left was Scott. 

In the small part of her mind, Pearl never thought it would come to this. She'd thought she'd perished way before this, since she hadn't been particularly careful with her health. But here she was, one of the last bonded.

When the world didn't disappear around them, it became clear that there was one more life to give. Scott messaged her, saying that they'll meet where it started. Pearl almost didn't know what he was talking about. Everything felt so long ago, covered in a film of Red.

Once back on spawn hill, Pearl circled her last prey, Scott watching her wearily. 

The more they regarded each other, the more Pearl couldn't think straight. 

One more.

There was one more death to cause.

There could only be one winner.

But then Scott put down some TNT.

Pearl jumped away, thinking it was an attack.

No.

Scott stood next to the TNT, the fuse already lite.

He smiled sadly at her, saying 'Tilly death do us part'

She screamed, sudden fear for her soulmate filling her, temporarily drowning out the ceaseless chanting for blood.

She died as he did, her body crumpling as her string was cut.

He sacrificed himself for her, choosing death so she didn't have to endure the pain of killing her own soul bound.

Huh.

Maybe she forgave him after all.

#pearlescentmoon #double life pearl #double life #the life series #scott #double life scott #grian #goodtimeswithscar #tango tek #solidaritygaming #rancher duo #that ENDING #OMG #I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT BUT I LOVE IT #i wrote this in dms #explaining pearsl pov #to a friend that dosent watch any mcyt #and i liked it enough to post on its own

[swanmaids]

survival

survival; noun: the state or fact of continuing to live or exist, typically in spite of an accident, ordeal, or difficult circumstances.

for @finweanladiesweek day 4: idril.

tw: amputation, parent death, animal death, child endangerment, ice-related suffering 

1034 words.

Idril Silverfoot  knew something of survival. At six, she was one of thirty-six children to set foot onto the Grinding Ice, and at thirty-three she became one of five of those then- almost grown children still alive to reach Beleriand. 

The Ice was cruel to the Host of Fingolfin. Idril watched as it snatched away and swallowed up her childhood playmates, whittling them down one by one, sometimes two by two. She watched as her father’s face hollowed out until he resembled nothing so much as a living wraith. She watched as her mother fell, and sank, and died. She watched, and wept, and even then swore to herself that she would survive. Elenwë had given her life for her daughter. Idril would make that sacrifice matter. Idril- no matter her youth, no matter the Doom- would not die in this frozen, forsaken desert. 

And so, Idril lived in part because she willed it. Cold and dark and hunger were her closest companions, and her thoughts each day were only of how to defeat them. She stripped the corpses of her friends for their furs. She used her Uncle Finrod’s prized jewels of Valinor to light her way. She slept inside the belly of a dead horse, and the next day ate its flesh. After, some of the bolder Green and Grey-Elves  who had followed her father to Gondolin would ask her, how did you feel? You must have been so angry, you must have despaired? Idril would respond, perplexed, how did I feel? Cold, and tired, and hungry, and cold. There was no room to feel anything else. 

Idril survived also because of the will of others. When her fall through the ice alongside her mother turned her legs black from feet to calves, her grandfather tied a seal-gut tourniquet around her knees and in one stroke each, cut them off. For the remainder of the journey, she was carried between her father and aunts and uncles. Much later it occurred to her, with a brutal practicality, that it would have made more sense for the Host to leave her behind to die. The odds for any elven child on the Ice were slim. For one with no feet, they were practically non-existent. But her family willed her to live, and Idril lived to become Idril Silverfoot, when she made it to the shores of Lake Mithrim and newly-freed Maedhros ordered his crafty younger brother to create her first new legs. 

The Ice therefore taught Idril Silverfoot two valuable lessons about survival. In order to surmount insurmountable odds, one must trust in others, and trust in oneself. She kept these lessons close to her heart, for she felt somehow that she would need them again, though she could not at first say why. But she repeated them to herself all the same.

That was why, years later when her father could not hear her husband’s warnings and her cousin returned from his “expedition” changed in a way she could not describe but did not like and she felt the icy finger of Doom trail down her spine and turn her insides glacier-cold, she stamped down on her fear with her steel feet and made a plan. Set your heart to survive and trust yourself.  Idril gathered Tuor and Voronwë, Glorfindel and Ecthelion and Rôg; and spoke to them in secret of child-sized mail for her son and city-wide tunnels for her people. Trust in the strength and will of others. Idril fell into bed each night with aching muscles and clay still under her nails, too exhausted to worry if the city would fall while it slept. Her dreams ceased to feature ice, and instead were of fire and falling. 

As it turned out, she had been right all along.

She survived. She could not save her father, but she saved her family. She carried her son out of the city through her tunnel, on legs her dead cousin had made, and brushed ash and soot out of his hair as she walked. Eärendil, she found, was very much like his mother in a crisis. He held on to her quietly and did not fuss or cry, not in his mother’s arms, or in his father’s, or on his own feet. Indeed, he did not cry once on the road to Sirion- except in his sleep. Her husband and Voronwë, both relatively uninjured, brought up the rear of their refugee train. 

The walk to Sirion was not much like the walk to Beleriand. Now, she carried her own child, instead of being carried herself, and her greatest battle was with the ash that fell like neverending rain, not the cold. But the hunger and exhaustion were as she remembered. Their party dwindling down as members succumbed to both was familiar too. But she made it to Sirion, and by the grace of a shipwright and a child-queen, those who remained of her people had a place to live. 

If Eärendil was alike to Idril, Elwing was even more so. A little girl facing down mighty Doom, simply because she had no choice but to face it, a survivor simply because she had to be. Idril immediately liked her immensely. Elwing liked her too- and she liked her son even more. The two half-mortals reminded Idril so much of her and Tuor that sometimes it was hard to look at them for too long, for Tuor was wholly mortal, and not getting younger, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

No. 

There was one thing she could do to stop it. 

 To attempt the journey to Aman with her mortal husband was mad. They would both die in the crossing. But Idril should have died on the Ice. She should have died in the Fall. Instead, she had stared down her Doom, and her Doom had blinked first. What did she have left to fear? She had set her head and heart to the task. She had steadfast Tuor and Voronwë with her on the waves, and stout-hearted Eärendil and Elwing on the shore. 

Idril Silverfoot was going to write herself out of her family’s tragedy, once and for all. 

#my post #my fic #idril #finweanladiesweek #userlyndeth #tuserosie #the silm

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: early april PARTIES: @rhythmicmeow & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: leticia rescues emilio from a chatty bar patron and decides he's her friend now. he doesn't get a say. for once, he's not mad about it. CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol consumption

It wasn’t exactly rare for Emilio to find himself sitting at the bar. While he did enjoy cheap whiskey in the comfort of his own living room more than a bar full of strangers, it was important to… unwind, sometimes. Talk to someone who could talk back, even if it only served to irritate him. And right now? It was irritating him.

The man had slid next to him and just started talking. Another night, Emilio might have found some way to shut him up — a punch to the face, or maybe an offer to get out of there that would at least make the man’s company a little more bearable — but he found he wasn’t in the mood tonight. He should have stayed home, really; all he wanted was to drink in peace. But here was this man, rambling on and on about something Emilio couldn’t even keep up with anymore. He dropped his head against his fist, eyes screwed tightly shut. Fucking Wicked’s Rest. 

Leticia ducked into a bar after work. The shop had been open for just a week and the store had been swarmed with teenagers and young college students from the local campus - it had been a lot. And after the closed sign had been flipped over, she had been left with a lot of extra energy and no place to direct it. At least until she saw an overly exhausted man sitting at the bartop and someone else, a few seats down, yell-talking to the other man. A life story that no one had signed up for, it seemed. 

Taking a seat next to the exhausted man, Leticia shrugged off her jacket. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was but you know teenagers, you say the shop is closing and suddenly they’re invested in the fly on the wall and won’t leave.” She flashed the man who had been ranting earlier a bright smile. “Thanks for keeping him company! Lord knows he would have died from boredom without you.” She had dismissed the stranger in the friendliest of ways, she just needed her new friend to play along unless he wanted to suffer through another rambling story. 

For a moment, Emilio thought the stranger who slid onto the barstool next to him had mistaken him for someone else. She spoke with a familiar tone, as if they knew each other well and planned on meeting up here tonight. He was about to let her know she had the wrong guy when she turned to the man who’d been talking his damn ear off and things clicked into place. Ah. Not a case of mistaken identity — a rescue attempt. Emilio hid a smile behind his glass, taking a swig of whiskey and offering the woman a nod. “No problem. It happens.”

The stranger on his other side looked disappointed, something flickering across his face as he glanced between Emilio and the new addition. “Ah, my bad, bro,” he said, shaking his head. “Didn’t realize you were meeting a date here. Hey, if you want my number —”

“I don’t have a phone,” Emilio deadpanned, sliding his phone off the bar and into his pocket. The man looked a little offended, but seemed to have gotten the idea. With a shrug, he slunked away, off to find another victim. Emilio let out a small sigh of relief, turning to face the woman who’d ‘saved’ him from a very boring fate. “Appreciate the assist. Five more minutes and I think I would’ve put my head through the bar.”

Covering her mouth, Leticia hid an ill placed laugh as her newfound companion claimed to not have a phone. It was cold and brilliant all in one. “I’ll have to remember that line, that was good,” she whispered. Though considering how many times she had been in this position, where someone had asked for her number and refused to take a hint - it wasn’t as funny as the moment felt. A simple no should have been enough, but considering the short snapshot that Leticia had seen of their behavior, a no would have led to some uncomfortable begging. 

Some people refused to take a hint. No matter how obvious it was. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to fall asleep or yeah - put your head through the bar. Wouldn’t blame you either way. Five minutes is longer than I would have lasted. But mom always did say I lacked patience.” Leticia huffed a laugh and waved down the bartender, ordering a drink before turning back to her ‘date.’ “Leticia,” she offered. “And I’m… well, I’m new in town. Please tell me this isn’t the bad bar in town and that it’s just that one guy who is ruining it.” 

“Gets the hint across,” Emilio replied with a shrug. It wasn’t a position he was in often, of course; he got the feeling she dealt with things like that a lot more than he did. Maybe that was why she’d stepped in as she had — maybe she was returning a favor someone had done for her once, when she’d been in such a position. Emilio wondered if he’d be expected to do the same now, if there was some chain reaction he’d unwittingly become a part of. He’d do it, but Christ, it was annoying that such a thing was necessary. 

At least this conversation was better than the one that had preceded it. So far, she was much less annoying than the man she’d chased away. It wasn’t saying much, of course. Most people would fall farther back on the ‘annoying’ scale than that guy had. But it was something, at least. A way to pass the time. He needed that, sometimes. “Ah, you don’t think it’s a virtue?” His tone was dry, with a slight teasing lilt. He’d never been particularly good at patience himself, truth be told. Five minutes might have been a generous estimate. “Emilio. Not here long myself, but it usually isn’t so bad here. Better than other bars, at least.”

The word risky hung on the tip of Leticia’s tongue, but maybe, in this scenario, it wasn’t. He had her as backup, so if the man had pushed any further, there would have been a witness - and it would have been messier than the usual brand of uncomfortable. But there was an ease in the transition from creepy unwanted conversation to something lighter. A shade friendlier than Leticia had expected. “A virtue, yeah. And humility. Both I’ve, uh, failed on several fronts?” In her line of business, humility might have been good in some cases, but in most? It was a weakness that critics would have used to tear her down. A crack in the armor that would have been exploited. And seeming to be untouchable was preferred to looking vulnerable. 

Words hurt less when you pretended they meant nothing. 

Funny, coming from a musician. 

“And it looked like you were suffering for your virtue. And dying of boredom? Worst way to go.” Leticia let out a small, dramatic whistle, all the while smiling. “Emilio?” She repeated, committing the name to memory. “Not the tour guide I was looking for then.” Regardless, he had a view of this place that Leticia didn’t. A different experience. And if nothing else, a companion to waste the night with in a bar. “What made you pick Wicked’s Rest? The amazing company and conversation?” She teased lightly. 

“Humility is overrated,” Emilio replied, smiling faintly. That was one virtue his mother hadn’t cared for. If you were good at something, she’d said, make it known. Humility served no purpose when lives were on the line. It hadn’t come up as often with Emilio as it had with his siblings, of course. He’d never had to worry much about humility because he’d never been good enough at anything to inspire it. His siblings were better hunters than he was, his sister a better parent. It was only humble to claim you weren’t the best if it wasn’t true. 

Not that it mattered now, he supposed. Mexico was a world away, and no one was left to comment on his feelings outside Emilio himself. And, for the moment at least, he’d rather drink than dwell on them. Maybe that would be different tomorrow. The possibility made him think he ought to enjoy tonight while he could.

“Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head, “I’m nothing if not a martyr.” It was funnier if you knew him, he thought, if you knew just how badly he wanted it to be true. Or maybe it wasn’t funny at all. His sense of humor had never been a universal thing. “Not much of a tour guide, I’m afraid. But I can tell you which bars won’t kick you out for not paying your tab.” It was, in his opinion, very useful information to have. At the question, he shrugged a shoulder and lifted his glass to his lips again. He knew the answer, of course, but telling a stranger that you were a vampire hunter who’d moved to this town because it seemed like there was a high probability of dying for your cause there was probably not the best idea. “No specific reason, I think. It just… seemed like a good place to rest for a while. How about you?”

“My mother would hate you,” Leticia huffed a laugh, but that warm feeling of familiarity was fleeting. It was too soon to be happy and mention her family. Too soon to think about her mother, who was running with the wind, and be comfortable. Grief was quick to pull down her mood, but Leticia covered her mouth and coughed, pretending like it was a passing moment - just something stuck in her throat. Nothing more. Humility would keep her alive, her mother would say. It would keep the rangers from sniffing her out, it would keep her safe - it would keep her unknown. Something that she had echoed time and time again. And Leticia had ignored her every time. Maybe she should have listened. Maybe things would have been different.

Taking a quick sip of her drink, burying the grief as deep as she could. Drowning it in whatever she could find. She needed this more than she realized. 

“Very noble of you. Your drunk brethren are eternally grateful, I’m sure.” But the dry humor was enough to cut into the thoughts she had given more life to. “Can you tell me which bars have an open mic?” It’d probably be the kind of bar that Emilio didn’t enjoy, but he would be sure to remember it as one to avoid. “Ha, rest.” It likely wasn’t the joke that Leticia made it out to be, but she snickered nonetheless. The question turned on her, and she should have expected it - should have prepared a lie that was convincing. Instead, she looked at her drink and shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. It was one of those… throw a dart at a map and just go sort of moves, ya know?” 

“Eh, most mothers do.” His own had never been his biggest fan, and Juliana’s mother had soured on him over time, too. He glanced to the woman at his side, recognizing that look on her face in spite of how fleeting it was. Emilio knew grief well enough to pick it out of a crowd. It was like an old friend, one so familiar to you that you knew their face with as much surety as you knew your own. No more talk of mothers, then. That was preferable to him, too. Thinking of his own still hurt in ways he couldn’t quite wrap his head around, for reasons he wasn’t sure he understood. There was a selfish sort of comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one sitting at this bar that felt such a way.

Her next question caught him off guard. Looking at her, he wouldn’t have taken her for the sort of person who might enjoy an open mic… but, in all fairness, Emilio didn’t know enough about karaoke to know what kind of person would. Maybe it would have been obvious to him if things like that were things that made more sense in his mind. “Maybe a place downtown. College kids like that, ¿sí?” Emilio tended to avoid such scenes. He preferred dive bars, where the drinks were cheap and the questions came few and far between. He furrowed his brow, taking a moment to understand what she was laughing at but huffing a quiet chuckle when it dawned on him. “Guess I walked into that one.” He nodded as she told her own story, though he suspected it was abridged. “Might not be the best place for a dart to land.”

It would be a stranger in a bar she randomly decided to stumble into that would make Leticia think. He hadn’t pressed any buttons, it was entirely her own doing. But between the sadness and the grief, she didn’t feel the judgment she had expected from the wider world. A blessing, perhaps, that she was just another face in the crowd in this town and not the girl who shifted on stage. Maybe she was no better than that ranting man who was sitting in the corner now, unloading his entire life on Emilio just a few moments before. 

But if Emilio felt the same way about her, he was doing a masterful job of hiding it. 

Leticia wrinkled her nose, imagining a bar filled with the same young adults she had been dealing with for the better part of the morning. Probably not a good idea to hang out with the same crowd after hours. “Gross,” she mumbled, before quickly going to correct herself. “I mean, yeah I’m sure that’s where some might be. I just see a lot of that crowd at my shop,” she quietly admitted. “So, spending after hours with them too? Not high on the list. Oh well.” It took him a moment but eventually the joke landed and Leticia chuckled again. “Well, there are worse places to be, believe me.” Caught in the woods. Back home, in an empty shell of a house. “Besides, you came here for no reason. Don’t think you’ve got the high ground on this one.”

He huffed a surprised laugh at her response to his suggestion, shaking his head. “No, I think gross is right. Those kids are always so…” He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand. “Llenos de energía. Makes me tired just looking at them.” Certainly not something he wanted around when he was trying to unwind with a drink. Emilio liked kids, he did. But there were times when he would rather be in adult company. Like here, like now. This conversation wasn’t one he could see himself having with a college student looking to test the limits of their fake ID. 

“You have a shop? What kind?” It caught his attention a little, if only because of the nature of many of the shops in Wicked’s Rest. If she owned a magic shop or a weapon store, it would tell him a thing or two about her. It might also come in handy if he needed something in that area in the near future. Befriending someone who sold weapons would be a wise move for someone who went through as many knives as Emilio did… but if most of her clients were college kids, he doubted Leticia was slinging blades. “Ah, but there were no darts involved. I think that gives me some high ground.”

Snorting, Leticia covered her mouth to muffle a laugh. He wasn't wrong. There were times where Leticia wasn't sure how the hell they managed to keep up the energy - it was as if there was an endless stream of energy that only they could touch. There was a time when she had been able to bounce off the walls and use that energy to perform, but that was so long ago. (Was she getting old?) "A shame we outgrew that trick."

Though, if she had that kind of energy now, would it be any good? Or would it be just a path quicker to death?

"A record shop, The Vinyl Countdown. Doubles as a radio studio." It was the most mundane business to have in a town like Wicked's Rest. But Leticia was clinging to normalcy. And the fragile memories of her father. "I actually think not using a dart is worse. I came here by the pure will of God. You chose to come here. We are not the same," she teased. 

“Ah, speak for yourself. I’m young and spry.” He wasn’t. He hadn’t been full of college kid levels of energy since before he became a father, and he’d certainly lost whatever was left of it when he stopped being one. But he thought the joke might be funny, anyway, even to someone he’d only just met. 

A record shop. Nothing of interest to Emilio, really, though he tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. He didn’t want to be rude, after all; he just didn’t have much use for music. It wasn’t something his mother had found particularly important growing up, for a lot of reasons, so there was none of the nostalgia that most people felt when a tune started to play. It was just… one of many, many things that Emilio didn’t quite understand. “Sounds nice,” he offered, because it seemed the polite thing to do. He snorted at her insistence that ending up here by chance was far more understandable than coming here intentionally, because… well, she wasn’t entirely wrong, was she? “Okay, fair enough. You regretting that dart practice yet?”

Another laugh came as easily as the last, and for a moment, all the shit in the world felt further away. The exact thing Leticia had been looking for when she stepped into the bar. It felt like ages since she was able to simply exist in her body around someone. "I'm sorry young man," Leticia teased. "When you get to be my age, it's hard to tell the age of anyone. All you kids look the same. You'll understand when you're older."

There was no excitement in his voice when he replied and Leticia found herself wondering why there was a distance between himself and music. Most people would share their favorite bands or something else - but sounds nice? She thought about raising the question, but thought better of it. The last thing that Emilio likely needed tonight was an impromptu interrogation about music of all things. "You know..." Did she regret it? Leticia had never given herself a moment to think about it, if this was the place she wanted to land and come home to. "Of all the bullshit I do regret, I think ending up here is pretty low on the list. Save the self pity for the big problems, right?" 

A smirk ghosted across Emilio’s face, rare but genuine. It was always better when someone played along with your stupid jokes, even for someone like him whose jokes were often little more than dry remarks or wry comments. “No, no,” he said, waving a hand. “I’ll be young forever. You know how it is.” Maybe that joke was funnier in a town like this, where a decent size of the population really didn’t age. 

Something seemed to cross her face at his response, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Music was important to people, and they often didn’t understand why it wasn’t important to Emilio. It was one of those many, many things that set him apart from other humans, one of those little quirks his mother had beaten into him to make sure he’d always be just a little different. He wasn’t sure how much of it was intentional and how much of it was a strategy to ensure he wouldn’t find himself too ingrained in the portion of society she’d thought he had no business being a part of. He wasn’t sure how much it mattered. He studied Leticia as she spoke, nodding his head thoughtfully. Save the self pity for the big problems. Not bad advice. “Think that’s a nice way of thinking of it,” he offered. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think this is the worst place you could have ended up.” Not bad for him, either. She was a decent conversation partner, at least.

Young forever. On the surface, that seemed like a dream. People loved their youth, wanted to stay in that same frame of body for their entire lives. But forever was a long time. Even longer with the mental struggles of dealing with... everything. Leticia didn't envy those who did have an eternity here. But still, she laughed. The ache that came with the idea of eternity felt further away in his company. It was strange that a stranger could keep the darkness away while playing with it in the same motion. "That's what they all say. Call me when you get your first gray. I'll give you the over the hill speech."

Irrational optimism was something that Leticia had mastered early in life. She had to focus on the silver linings otherwise she'd lose control and be the monster that rangers hunted and humans feared. Control over her outlook was the one thing she had, and nothing could make her give that up. Meeting his gaze, she returned the nod with a slight shrug, a smile in the corner of her mouth. "This place isn't boring at least," she replied, eyeing the man who had been rambling to Emilio earlier. It felt like such a shift, now that she was sitting down and thinking about it. Her life on stage. In New York - around the world. And this is where she ended up. "You know, for someone who wanted to drink in peace, you sure are making me think a lot." 

“You’ll be waiting a while for that call.” And that, at least, was probably the truth. Hunters didn’t tend to end up with gray hair and wrinkled skin, though not because they were immortal. Dying young was its own kind of loophole to aging, and hunters were good at that. Emilio had already made it far longer than he’d ever expected to. If he was being generous, he figured he had a year or two left. Probably less. Not enough time to end up with gray hairs to call strangers about, in any case. 

Not boring was certainly one way to describe Wicked’s Rest. There was always something going on, always some strange event twisting the town up into something else, something different. Emilio had only been there a short time, but he’d already taken notice of it. It was an easy place to disappear, if you weren’t human. It was an easy place to die, if you were. His answer for which option was the most tempting seemed to change day to day now. He huffed a quiet laugh as Leticia said he was making her think, shrugging a shoulder. “What can I say? Soy perspicaz. I have lots of interesting things to say.” He paused, picking up his glass and swirling the liquid around. “But drinking in silence could be fun, too.”

Wrinkling her nose, Leticia leaned to the side, looking over his face carefully. Leaning back into her seat, she made a noise and then shrugged a shoulder. "I think it might be coming sooner than later. But don't worry," she offered with a smirk. "I'll make sure to have some options for you. Hair dye - some face cream. You won't look a day over twenty." Part of her had felt the need to tell him that aging wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him, but judging by the way he drank, maybe that wasn't what he was talking about at all.

But who was she to judge? He was doing exactly what she had wanted to do. But Leticia was too scared of losing control again. Too scared of her own shadow to breathe properly. Maybe another drink would settle her mind, so she waved slightly to the bartender, silently ordering another drink.

"Uh huh," she murmured. "I could always call your friend back over if you need more conversation. Maybe he'll appreciate your perception." There was no heat behind the threat, but Leticia wiggled her eyebrows and pretended to look half interested in calling them back over. "Too late for that," she waved her hand at his glass. "It's your turn. What do you do for a living here?" 

Faint amusement danced in his eyes as she looked him over, brows shooting up when she insisted that old age was coming for him sooner or later. The idea of putting cream on his face or dyeing his hair to stop it seemed laughable. If a hunter did grow into a wrinkled, gray-haired thing, they tended to wear it as a mark of pride. A trophy of sorts, for surviving against all odds. It wouldn’t be Emilio, but he’d seen others get there. His mother, his uncle, Rhett. “I think I’d rather… ah… age gracefully. No dye or cream for me. No shame in looking your age, is there?” 

He leaned back in his seat as she ordered another drink, taking the opportunity of the bartender’s attention being turned in their direction to do the same. He’d had enough already that the bartender gave him a dubious look, but not so much that they refused to serve him. A few more, and he knew that would be the case. Until then, he’d take what he could get.

“Ah, let him move on. You’re going to serve him a broken heart, letting him get hung up on me.” He knew there was little chance of her actually calling the man back over, despite not knowing her well. Detectives were perceptive, after all, and he could tell that Leticia wasn’t the sort to engage in such ‘punishments.’ Even if Emilio might deserve it for the comment. Huffing another quiet laugh, he tapped his finger against his glass. “Private investigator,” he replied. “You’d think that would mean less college kids bothering me. Not always true.”

Leticia moved on without lingering on why he was so adamant that he wouldn't switch grays up and that if he did he wouldn't hide them. Hoping he'd see it for what it was, a buffer of respect. Not disinterest. "Maybe you'll get lucky and it won't be just one random white spot on your head. Could end up with a skunk stripe. Might look cool, actually."

She held in a laugh again, pulling her gaze away from the man before he noticed the pair eyeing him again. Not to spare the man from another ‘broken heart,’ but to spare herself from having to look him in the eyes again and say no, it wasn’t an invitation for conversation. “Wouldn’t have pegged you as the heartbreaker type. Besides, I think I broke his heart for you last time. I’m due some credit here.” Leticia noticed the look that Emilio got from the bartender, and she shot him one herself. An arched brow and a silent question. Were they going to get kicked out because of him?

A private investigator. Leticia found herself ready to ask Emilio his rates and see if he was taking on more cases. The only thing that held her back was the reality of who she was and what she was. Could she ask a human to help her? Would he be able to if she had to censor half the important information? She bit her tongue but kept his profession in mind. If she couldn’t make any headway in the next few months - turning to a human wouldn’t be the worst idea she’s had. “What do teenagers need help with so much they need a PI? Rich kids mad the poor kid scored higher than them and need dirt on them?” 

“I don’t think that happens to people,” Emilio protested. He’d never seen anyone with a single stripe of white in their hair before, but, to be fair, he hadn’t seen many people with white in their hair at all. Growing up exclusively around hunters would do that to a guy. “Maybe you’ll get a skunk stripe.” 

Smirking, Emilio looked at his glass on the bar to avoid the urge to look at the man they were speaking of. He was the type who’d take it as an invitation to rejoin them, Emilio could tell. And neither he nor Leticia wanted that. In fact, he doubted anyone wanted this particular man engaging them in conversation if all his attempts were like what he’d subjected Emilio to. Getting stabbed sounded like more fun. “Ah, I’ve broken plenty of hearts.” Absently, his thumb rubbed against the wedding band still sitting upon his finger, the one he’d never managed to convince himself to take off. He was good at breaking things. Hearts included. “Okay, you want to be the heartbreaker? I’ll let you have it all to yourself.”

Something seemed to cross her face, though not the usual curiosity people seemed to carry when they heard what he did for a living. Most people were curious because they assumed it was something more exciting than it was. Leticia seemed curious in a much more personal way. But she didn’t voice whatever question was on her mind, and Emilio decided to respect it. If she wanted to ask whatever it was, she’d ask it. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t get anywhere by forcing the subject. “Had one come to me about a lost cat. Another had someone blackmailing her, wanted me to look into it. And… a few do want dirt on their classmates. I usually tell those no.” Digging up dirt on adults was one thing, but kids? Emilio couldn’t justify it, no matter how much he needed money.

“It absolutely happens to people. Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it’s never happened.” Leticia brought two fingers to her eyes and then pointed them at Emilio’s, “You better watch out or your first experience with it is going to be you.” Taking a glance at her own hair, she frowned. “I could pull it off. You might come out blotchy, but I’ll age like fine wine, thanks.” The words came out easily, like they had been friends for a few decades and not for under an hour. It was strange. But a good kind of strange. 

“I don’t want to be a heartbreaker out of pity. That’s insulting.” Leticia had broken the hearts of fans before, she was sure. A romantic connection, though? Never. Fame had put her out of touch with most people and out of reach of anyone she might actually want to talk to. It… muddled things too much. And Leticia had never been sure if the highs of having a partner would be worth all the risk that came with it. Even without the fame, she wasn’t sure how to open that door without revealing too much. Shit was complicated. But wasn't everything?

“Tell me you found the cat,” Leticia said quickly. Clearing her throat, she leaned back in her chair and then shrugged. “I mean. Pets are important, you know? They’re like family.” The college students blackmailing each other was just as alarming, but it only brought one thought to the forefront of her mind: “Glad I skipped college if that’s how they act. Christ.” It was an interesting occupation. She couldn’t imagine he was ever bored - but that was likely why he was there, drinking himself numb with a bartender giving him glances that looked like harsh warnings. Too much to drink or was the bill too high. Leticia made brief eye contact with the bartender again before awkwardly looking away. “I thought high school drama was bad. Where do these kids have all this free time to have a job and go to college and blackmail?” 

“Have you ever seen it?” He challenged, raising a brow and crossing his arms over his chest. She’d probably seen old age more often than he had, though he wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t say yes just to make herself look more reliable here regardless of whether or not it was the truth. “I don’t know about that. I think you’d look more like a skunk than I would, with the long hair. I could make mine look like a choice, if I wanted.” As if anything about Emilio’s appearance was a choice instead of just something that happened. Even his clothing style was limited to what he could ‘find.’ He’d gotten lucky that someone in his building had been throwing out a few trashbags full of clothes that fit him shortly after he’d moved in.

She was easy enough to talk to, which was odd. Most people weren’t, especially for Emilio. But Leticia responded to everything like it was a joke, like it didn’t matter, and there was something relaxing about that even if it was all for show. Sometimes, you needed something light to keep you on your feet. “If you stop taking things out of pity, you might not be left with much,” he warned her, tone dry even as amusement sparked behind his eyes. 

Uncrossing his arms to take his glass in his hand again, he smiled faintly. “Never even had to leave the kid’s apartment. It was under her couch the whole time, just hiding out. Couldn’t make myself charge her for it.” That was the problem every time he took a case that wasn’t the usual fare — he always had a hard time taking money for them. When a case was important, when it meant something, there was a strange sense of guilt that came with the concept of making someone pay for it. Something that stemmed from his upbringing as a slayer, he suspected, from that old idea that everyone and everything with a heartbeat was so much more important than he was. “Eh, half of them don’t work. Live off their parents’ dime, you know? Easy taking money from those ones.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Leticia retorted quickly, pretending like that didn’t reveal everything at the same time. It was the equivalent of saying no comment and pretending that it was enough to rebuff the question. Leticia only made it more convincing when she shrugged a shoulder and took a long sip of her drink. Far more important than answering the question, wasn’t it? “You said that with your full chest not realizing I could just… cut my hair. You know that, right? Or I might get really lucky and have it only on one side of my head so I can use it like an accent piece to frame my face.” 

Wrinkling her nose, Leticia gave Emilio a look. “Fine,” she accepted. “But that means I’m going to pity you too. Fair is fair.” He wasn’t far off the mark, though. The only reason she had landed on her feet here had been a helpful fae that Leticia had given a promise to. It wasn’t so much pity as it was an exchange, but she knew that anyone standing on the other side of that promise would be standing tall and claiming that they had taken pity on her. It was only a matter of time before that pit  came back around for collection to a debt owed. 

Letting out a slow breath, Leticia nodded her head. “Good.” Not that he hadn’t made any money from it, but that he had found the cat. And maybe the kindness he showed too - it was refreshing. Was that normal in Wicked’s Rest? She didn’t know a soul in the city that would be as generous as to find a cat for free, even if it was in the same room as the person. People here could be equally cold, but the warmth was easier to find. “And they have the audacity to look at other people’s problems to use against them?” She shouldn’t have been shocked. In New York, she wouldn’t have bat an eye at the comment. But as different as this place, it wasn’t as different as she had hoped. “Couldn’t be me. Ma would have kicked my ass if she got a whisper of me acting that way.” 

“I knew it,” Emilio scoffed, looking pleased with himself. He took a celebratory sip of his own drink as if he’d achieved some great victory, ignoring the fact that Leticia did the same. One thing he’d learned through the art of having three older siblings was that if you acted like you’d won with enough gusto, it would eventually become the truth. “I could shave my head, then,” he replied quickly, because two could play at that game. If she could find a loophole, so could he. Never mind that he hated the idea of shaving his head; it was all hypothetical, anyway. “That a thing? Using hair as an… accent?” His brow furrowed, confusion clear in his expression. Fashion, unsurprisingly to no one, wasn’t something in Emilio’s wheelhouse.

Immediately, he wanted to argue. Pity wasn’t something he wanted or needed, made his chest feel tight with the thought of it. Best case scenario, pity got someone killed. Emilio didn’t want that. But, at the same time, he could recognize that it was a joke. In an easy, lighthearted conversation like this one, there was no need to catastrophize even if his addled mind so badly wanted to do just that. He shook away the thought, shook away the argument, replaced it with a deadpan expression that was only half-forced. “No reason to pity me. I’m doing great.” He took another swig of his drink, as if to prove it.

He nodded in silent agreement to her statement. He was glad he found the damn cat, even if he didn’t get paid for it. Most of his cases were depressing stories with sad endings. It was nice to have a happy one, even if it was something small like a cat. It was big to someone. Huffing a laugh as she continued, he nodded his head. “Eh, people are assholes.” That didn’t surprise him anymore. People would always do whatever they had to do to get ahead. Emilio knew that. “Your mom seems smart, then.”

Leticia clicked her tongue and huffed, letting Emilio have the temporary victory. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d turn it around. Maybe even pass off someone’s intentional hair coloring and pass it off as proof that she was right. Was that lying? Only if he found out. “What if your eyebrows turn white? Are you going to shave those too?” It was a pointless argument, but Leticia wasn’t backing down. She held up her hand, covering the top part of his face. “You’d be dangerously close to looking like a cartoon villain if you did that.” An unexpected laugh escaped her. “Sorry — yeah. I’m more surprised you haven’t seen it in person. A lot of people use their hair, kinda like tattoos, another form of self expression.” 

Shaking her head, Leticia frowned again. “No, that’s not how it works. Two way street, buddy. If you don’t want the pity, you have to stop giving it away too.” Grabbing her own glass, she turned towards him more fully, arching a brow as he took another sip. If he was hoping she’d drop it there… well, unfortunately and fortunately for him, he had no idea how stubborn she could be. “Here’s to new friends, a well pouring bar, and no pity— okay drink up.” She lifted her glass quickly and put her hand out, tipping his glass up to, trying to force him to drink in acceptance to her claims.

People were assholes. There was no disagreeing to that statement. Years ago she would have said there was a light in everyone, you just had to find it. That being an asshole was usually just a defense mechanism — used like an impenetrable mask to hide. But grief had a funny way of muddying her thoughts. “Human nature, I suppose.” With a thin smile, Leticia nodded. “She is. But she’s also, maybe, the dart that chose Wicked’s Rest as the landing place.” 

“My eyebrows aren’t going to turn white. Where do you come up with this shit?” She seemed to have an endless supply of ‘what ifs’ for him here, and they only seemed to be getting more ridiculous. Was baldness a common feature of cartoon villains? Emilio wasn’t even sure. “Maybe I have seen it in person,” he replied, “but I wouldn’t know it. I don’t really, ah, keep up with those things.” Fashion trends were not something Emilio understood in the slightest. No one he’d known growing up had ever been concerned with them, and he didn’t think any of the people in his life with long hair had ever cared about how it framed their faces.

At least she was funny. Between the friendly conversation and the alcohol, Emilio felt more relaxed than he typically might, more at ease. Leticia wasn’t so bad, even if he’d never tell her that. “All right, all right, fine. I’ll drink to that. But only because I’ll drink to anything.” He clinked his glass against hers with a roll of his eyes, draining the whiskey from the glass.

Human nature. Not the best way to phrase it, given the significant population of assholes in Wicked’s Rest who weren’t human, but Emilio made no argument. It took him a moment to understand what Leticia meant when she admitted her mother was the ‘dart,’ and he huffed a quiet laugh. “Now that makes more sense.” But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

Cracking a smile, Leticia quickly bit it back down. Pretending not to be thrilled at his reaction. “I am just a curious person. So naturally, I ask questions and contemplate the existence of others in broad ways. It’s good for expanding the mind.” It was a PR answer, and if her manager could have heard her now, he would have thought that maybe she had learned something. “Fashion trends tend to change rapidly too, so I’ll give you a pass this one time.”

Leticia should have protested his reasoning. Any reasonable person would have. Instead, she looked smug. “A win is a win, Emilio. I’ve learned to take ‘em where I can get ‘em.” And this, everything about it, was a win. It brushed against the feeling that she had been looking for since she had come into town. Being known without being known. Emilio chose to keep talking to her, even without the pretense of being a rockstar. If anyone knew who she was, would they choose to be her friend? Or would other motivations muddle it? 

Or would her emotions muddle it?

When the bartender passed again, Leticia clicked her tongue and sighed, covering the top of her drink. She was starting to feel it - not drunk in the way most people felt, but the humming of the spirit she shared this body with. It wasn’t a line she wanted to toy with. “Hate to be a party pooper, but I have to tap out. I’ll pay off the tab. Consider it a thank you. Or a fuck you, I hope your hair turns white first.”

#rhythmicmeow #leticia: another round #wickedswriting #alcohol tw #s1 writing #season 1