#Posting early so I can concentrate on the second week challenge

[acewithapaintbrush]

Mirabel: So I'm going to destroy the miracle?

Bruno:

My entry for the first week of We don't talk about June challenge brought to life by @wdtajn

[mindibindi]

hey! sorry for bothering you, but i as a fellow x-phile i would like to ask how credible it is that gillian anderson and david duchovny hated each other back in the day? there are probably quotes or something but i can't really judge anything this late after the fact. i did watch the show when it aired but i was too young to get into internet culture. anyway, i'm hoping for some wisdom from fans who remember this. :) thank you!

Hey Anon,

It’s no bother and thanks for the ask. And actually, after the fact is a good position from which to view this matter since, as we all now know, Gillovny’s story has a happy ending. I was around for the original run too but internet culture was very different then. Not everyone was constantly online, I certainly wasn’t. The internet was expensive and hard to access so I got a couple of hours per week tops, which I mostly used to read fanfic. (Fanfic for this show/ship was basically my fanfic writer origin story: I was like WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO THIS TOO???!!! And btw: readers complain these days about the pressure to respond to fanfic. Back in the day, you had to compose a whole fricking email if you wanted to badger your fave author for more. And there was certainly no easy kudos button option to make you feel like you’d done your bit to encourage community. Anyway.)

There were fan sites, message boards and lots of different fanfic archives. And sure, there was some gossip but it still mostly came via old print media. Pre-social-media, there wasn’t a direct line to celebrities or any great expectation placed on them interact with fans in regular, intimate ways. The advent of social media has created these parasocial relationships in which (some) fans think they know or have a right to far more than they do. Back in the day, and istg this is true, I posted a picture of DD with Blue in the surf on some now defunct message board. The moderators removed it and v kindly said: nope, against our guidelines, no images of private moments taken without the person’s consent. I mean…. talk about boundaries! My baby fangirl ass was properly chastised and learnt a valuable lesson. I think we can learn a thing or two from early internet culture and original fans, some of which are still knocking about this site.

Anyway, all of this is to say, I don’t have any special insight here. The only people who know in any great detail what truly went on in DD and GA’s relationship is them, and maybe a few people in their immediate vicinity. But XF fans are lucky enough to stan two very honest, emotionally thoughtful people who have shared with us some of the challenges they faced during the show’s original run. And, for better or worse, when people tell you who they are, I tend to believe them. Yes, there are other fans that can probably provide you with quotes and timelines and (wild) speculation, but I think I know enough to give a fairly objective opinion on what I think actually occurred. For me, the most pertinent quote here is Gillian’s characterisation of their relationship as being like “a forced marriage”. I take this to mean that, like any marriage, there was great intimacy, respect, cooperation and commitment. Maybe even love. But there was also a lack of choice that caused tension, despite multiple positive relational elements.

“Tension” is a word that has also been applied to their late-90s relationship and I think it’s probably more accurate. I don’t think they HATE hated each other. But I think they probably had fleeting moments of feeling: OMG this person is getting on my last sane nerve, I cannot stand to be around them another fricking second. I think the protracted and concentrated intimacy of their circumstances gave rise to SOME super understandable negative feelings that ultimately, did not define the true nature of their relationship, either then or now. I don’t think those feelings were all there was, even back then. I don’t think these two were epic lovers any more than they were bitter enemies. I think they were just two human beings attempting to function under super intense scrutiny and an extremely gruelling work schedule. And that at times resulted in tension or irritation which they found ways around. Talking to each other only as Mulder and Scully may sound terrible to some but I think it’s a rather ingenious way to conserve their energy for their jobs. It shows an incredible commitment to their characters, to the show and to the contribution the other was bringing to that celebrated dynamic. They knew it was important so that's where they focused.

We have all had times in relationships where we’ve needed some space, even from someone we like, love, respect and value. If anyone was struggling to understand this dynamic between DD and GA then recent experiences of lockdown should have provided some insight into this kind of intense forced intimacy. Now, I have never been married but I’ve lived with people and that experience will make you loathe how a person walks, breathes, sleeps, eats, does the smallest, most insignificant things. It’s not the permanent state of your relationship. It’s just a passing reaction. It does not matter how much you might like or appreciate this person. In one bright flash, they become the most infuriating person to ever walk the planet. Then you go into another room or go to work and the feeling fades. But what happens when you can’t get away, you actually can’t get the sort of space a healthy relationship needs? We all saw how lockdown increased the pressure on all relationships, especially partnerships and marriages. There was pressure within and without and people reacted naturally to profoundly unnatural circumstances. That’s all that happened here.

Now, it must be pointed out that even during periods of the original run when their relationship was supposedly suffering, there is footage of them having fun on-set and ruining takes by making out. This supports the idea that any “hate” was an understandable but impermanent reaction for both. Actually, I think it is highly admirable that they were able to collaborate together and remain individually sane while experiencing such relational tension. It shows incredible personal fortitude and professional commitment. They stayed focused and pragmatic and, to me, there is never any indication that their personal struggles impacted the final product. In fact, I believe they actually enhanced Mulder and Scully’s relationship in those middle years of the original run when they too were experiencing some growing pains in their relationship. I’m thinking of the raw emotion in that end scene of “Elegy” and the palpable impatience and antagonism in “Gethsemane”. I’m thinking of the division and sadness in the hospital scene in “The Red and the Black” and throughout “The End”. Like Mulder and Scully, David and Gillian have some fundamental similarities and some very distinct differences. For the first few years of the series they were living very different lives. It took them time to attune to each other, just as it took Mulder and Scully time to fully absorb the many intricate dimensions of their relationship. As DD and GA grew older, their lives became more similar and their understanding of each other likewise grew. And honestly, I think it’s somewhat hypocritical and inhuman to appreciate the many complex beats of the M/S relationship as it plays out on-screen, but then judge their real-life counterparts as they tread an equally complex path towards true understanding, appreciation and love.

I haven’t watched TXF in years and in my recent rewatch, I was surprised actually at just how combative this relationship could be. I had only remembered all the sweet, shippy bits! But (and I should not really have to point this out) that's also what is so compelling to watch. The conflict. The contrast. The difference (not just in height, although their physical difference does act as a powerful symbol of their mismatched but ultimately complementary dynamic). The difference and yes, even at times tension, between David and Gillian only adds to a dynamic that so many have tried and failed to emulate (RIP to any reboot of this show. This show IS DD and GA’s chemistry. End of.). I can’t be mad or disappointed about Gillovny’s 90s tension, so carefully navigated by both actors, because fuck me does it work for the MSR angst! D’you think we’d have so many delicious angsty fanfics if these two had been sunshine-y, tension-less best buds every step of the way?? Not only is some tension an understandable human reaction that I believe they have every right to, it adds dimension to an epically URSTy relationship that could have gotten boring (and kinda did towards the end, let's be real). There is an added, honest, brave truth to the moments of impatience, frustration, disagreement and division in the M/S relationship because DD and GA experienced these things themselves in the context of their equally intense working relationship. I think the actors continued to mine their own tension and express it through Mulder and Scully, which again is a super creative and healthy way to protect their working relationship and serve the M/S relationship. A relationship in which they were invested, but also a relationship that was central to the show and important to so many fans.

In time, the more intense M/S moments lost their bite. The relationship became softer, less combative, more appreciative. The LA move decreased the actor’s isolation and gave the show a new tone. Gillian is on record saying how strange it was for her when David disappeared in later seasons. And we all know the story of the 10 min post-"Existence" embrace (if you don’t let me know). So this story has a neat and satisfying ending even if Mulder and Scully never really got theirs. As evidenced by the second movie and reboot, nothing was destroyed. The chemistry remains (even if it’s not served by quality plot, development, context and characterisation). These human beings and artists did their best under difficult circumstances. They protected the work, the characters and their relationship. In fact, I would venture to suggest that the wild appreciation they show for each other now, the enduring chemistry we see on-screen and the palpable enjoyment they feel at the other’s presence any time they get the opportunity to reunite is in part due to how they navigated their early years as mismatched colleagues thrown together and expected to work closely under immense pressure. Thanks to David and Gillian, hate never took root. And now, in DD’s words, all that’s left is the heart.

[chacusha]

Summer Quodo event poll

Because I have a "running events" problem (namely, that I like brainstorming events that would be neat, and then once I brainstorm an event, I get attached to it and want to run it), I am planning on running a Quodo event for the middle of the year.

So, please help me pick which event I should run this summer by telling me which one you'd be most interested in!

Explanations on each of these below the cut:

Option #1: Ship week

Here, the event would be a Quodo ship week most likely in early/mid August. Basically, the way a ship week works is that there is a designated week for posting fanworks for a ship, where each day in the week is associated with a prompt (or maybe two prompts, to give people choice). The last day in the week is usually a free choice day. Basically, it's a way to have a concentrated burst of fanworks for a pairing, and you can see the different ways people interpreted each prompt, and it's also kind of a team effort? Or you can treat it as a challenge to try to post one thing each day -- it's completely up to you how many days/prompts you fill.

The event will start by me collecting some prompt suggestions, holding a vote on them, and selecting a week's worth of prompts and publishing the list of prompts for each day. Then people make as many fanworks as they would like for the themes and post their work on the appropriate day.

Proposed timeline: April: Collect prompts May: Vote on prompts and release prompt list Jun-Aug: Creation period August: The ship week

Option #2: Collab event

For this event, basically, you would get paired with another Quodo fan and the goal would be to collaborate in order to produce a fanwork or a pair of fanworks. What a "fanwork collaboration" means can vary a lot and depends on what the members of the group are interested in (basically, when signing up, you would specify your preferences for the type of collab you would be interested in, and these preferences will be taken into account when I do the matching).

Here are some types of collaboration, roughly in order from least amount of coordination/cooperation to most amount of coordination:

1) Writing/creating to the same prompt/idea: Basically, the coordination happens at the beginning of the project with the two members agreeing on a general idea/prompt to work with, and then both members go off and create and share what they made at the end. This way you get two unique takes on the same idea. Very little coordination involved.

2) One person creates work inspired by/complementary to the other's: Here, the creators collaborate in order to produce a pair of related works -- first, one work is produced and then the second work is made in relation to that work. This could be the second creator's take on the same idea -- a remix/retelling/redraw of the original work, or an illustration for a fic or a fic inspired by art, etc. (It's also possible for both people to each create an original work and then swap, although this is more time-consuming and may not work with people's time.) This requires a bit more coordination, maybe sharing early drafts or handing work off by a deadline.

3) Collaborating on the same fanwork: This option involves two people working together to produce a single work. You can choose to do this however you like -- for example, with fic, maybe you swap the writer every few paragraphs, or do it roleplay style with each person writing one character. With art, maybe one artist does lineart and then hands it off to the other person to color (or both artists each do lineart and then send to the other to do the coloring). Hard mode!

You can treat this event like a bang or reverse bang if you like by using option (2). A bang is where someone writes a (long) fic (doesn't have to be long for this event) and they get an artist who illustrates it or provides some other kind of art or complementary fanwork (could be headers/graphics for the fic, podfic, etc.). A reverse bang is the opposite -- an artist comes up with a piece of art (maybe a sketch) and a fic writer crafts a fic around that piece of art.

There would be periodic check-ins just to see if there are any members/groups that have gone inactive and which might require reassignment to a new group.

The sign-up form would collect things like: - What fanwork medium you would prefer or are planning to work in. - What type of collabs you're open to. - What type of fanworker (fic writer, artist, etc.) you would prefer to work or not work with. - How often you would like to check in.

Proposed timeline: Apr/May: Sign-ups and matching Jun-Aug: Creation period August: Work reveals (in pairs)

Option #3: WIP-finishing/motivation event

The purpose of this event would be to provide motivation/company/social pressure to finish a longer/more ambitious sort of project. People can sign up with a new or existing project they would like to complete by the deadline, and then they would use the work period to see if they can finish the work, in the company of others doing the same. It's called a WIP-finishing event, but really, any project is allowed even if it's brand new. That said, this event might be useful for projects you've been meaning to get around to for a long time and haven't, or intimidating projects a bit beyond your skill level so far. Any media is allowed -- fic, art, comics, podfic, vids, meta, crafts, etc.

I am still figuring out the timeline and due dates -- below is what I have so far, but I would be happy to adjust the deadlines and format in order to accommodate what would work best and be the most motivating for the participants. So far, I am thinking that there is a date at which the project must be finished, and then there is a long posting period for people who would like to post their work in smaller increments. I would also pick 1-2 dates for each finished project to spotlight/advertise it -- one would be toward the beginning of the posting period for works that are fully finished and posted, or for works that have started posting (have posted the first installment); the second one would be shortly after the last installment of the work has been posted (if applicable).

The sign-up form would collect things like: - Your name and name/description of project - (Optional) Progress so far and projected length/time commitment of project. - (Optional) Goals you would like to have hit by certain check-ins.

It would be fine to drop projects at any time.

Proposed timeline: Apr/May: Sign-ups. May-Jul: Creation/posting period, most likely with optional check-ins at the beginning of Jun/Jul/Aug. Mid-August: Work completion deadline. Work posting and promos begin shortly afterward. November: Work posting deadline. Final wrap-up/celebration and masterlist.

Which one would you be most interested in? Let me know!

[carica-ficus]

Day 1

Date: 01/11/2023 Word count: 1,768 Total words: 1,768

Day 1 went really well! The atmosphere was amazing and our small writing community is all fired up for the work up ahead! It's much easier knowing everybody is in this together and that we are all working toward a similar goal. We had a little event the other day to hype ourselves up where we presented our projects - ideas, characters, plots, inspirations and so on - and it was great fun.

As for the project I'm working on, the working title is Zaboravljena Obećanja (Forgotten Promises) and I won't talk too much about it here, but here's some thoughts about today's writing sessions:

I started off at midnight, getting in 300 words. They were shit, of course, but I'm glad I started so late (or early, depending on how you take it) because my brain was so tired that I couldn't concentrate on romanticizing the sentences. I just wrote. So yeah, 300 shitty words in. Great success.

I woke up at around 9ish, hoping to get at least an hour of work before I went out with my family (the 1st of November is a Christian holiday here in Croatia), but I managed to get a little less than 40 mins to write. Still, I started expanding on what I already wrote and it all started looking a lot better.

Okay, last session was in late afternoon. Got the rest of my words in. I kept fighting with myself not to edit my sentences, but couldn't always comply with the rule. So, 2-3 hours later, the work is done.

Good beginning of the challenge. I really, really want to keep it up, but I won't be home the second half of next week and I'm not sure if and how much I'll be able to write. my goal is to write as much as possible this week, so I can take it easy next week.

Okay, that's it for now! Still have work to do on my other story that is due tomorrow. Gotta get some more words in.

(Btw, if you're doing NaNo and want to share your experience, so far, don't be shy to talk to me or comment on this post. <3 )

[2jaeh]

INSUFFERABLE l  KIM DOYOUNG 

GENRE: mature theme, slight smut

WARNINGS: choking, dom themes, cursing

asshole! Doyoung , enemies to ???

Words : 4k 

You’re put in a group project with the most annoying pretentious jerk your law class had to offer. Immediately Doyoung tries to boss you around but you being you, you weren’t taking his shit...soon enough he finds out he can dominate you after all...in a very different way. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Theres no fucking way...no fucking way” you groaned looking at your group project list, eyes narrowing on possibly the worst people within your course year. Slumping in your seat you half smiled at the girl who approached you, one of your fellow members from project hell. 

“Heyyy y/n I think we're in a group together” she grinned and took a seat next to you, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and checked herself out in her mirror covered cellphone. 

Dami was probably the most narcissistic person you'd ever met and being in law, it was definitely a common trait around here. Dami sat up and began tapping you on your shoulder frantically “He’s in our group! Kim Doyoung is in our group” the two of you watched as the dark haired man conversed with the lecturer, casually turning back to look at the table where you guys sat, in annoyance. 

“That guy is such a prick” a guy who slid in the desk behind you, Seungmin said and Dami nodded in agreeance as you all continued to watch him. 

“Ive never really spoken to him before” you cocked your head, “What’s so annoying about him?” 

This time another group member joined in, a quieter girl who normally sat in the back Jisoo, cleared her throat, “He is really bossy and only likes to do things his own way.”

‘Well he is about to meet his worst nightmare’ you thought knowing nothing pissed you off more than someone telling you what to do. 

The muffled conversations around you began to soften as you felt someone stand over you and drop a file on your desk. Looking up, you locked eyes with the one and only Kim Doyoung, dressed in his usual black slacks, black turtleneck and clear rimmed spectacles. He raised his eyebrow at you as if you were supposed to guess what he wanted.

“What ?” you challenged him, folding your arms across your chest and returned an eyebrow raise. 

Doyoung sighed in annoyance, his long slender fingers moved across the file and opened it swiftly, “I want you to do roll call” he said coldly. 

A lump formed in your throat. You felt like you were being talked down to, it was something that infuriated the hell out of you. He wasn't older than you, nor was he getting better grades than you but somehow he had a superiority complex. Dami quickly nudged you and you rolled your eyes, “Seungmin ?”

“Here!” 

“Jisoo ?” you placed a tick as you called out each name. 

“Dami, Jangjun…?” you looked around and noticed that the usually loud comedic relief in your classroom was nowhere to be seen. 

“I think Jangjun is late, i’ll text him” Seungmin sighed and pulled out his phone. You turned back to the roll call sheet and pursed your lips, “Kim Doyoung ?” 

Doyoung just looked down at you, sucking in his bottom lip and raised that damn eyebrow at you again. 

“You need to say ‘here’ do you not know how roll call works ?” you tested him and he rolled his eyes and sighed, “here.” 

You smiled to yourself, completely satisfied with pissing him off when your internal celebration was interrupted by an out of breath Jangjun, who threw his bag on the floor and took a seat on Dami’s desk. Doyoung looked at him disgustingly, and even though you too were obviously annoyed by Jangjun’s tardiness, was that reaction really necessary ?

“Be on time” Doyoung sneered and grabbed the roll call file making his way back to the lecturer. 

“Fuck Kim Doyoung is in this group ?” Jangjun groaned, sharing the sentiments of the entire meeting. You couldnt believe these were the people you had to work with for the week. It's like you could almost feel an outburst waiting to happen, whether it be from you or Kim Doyoung. 

Doyoung returned and took out his phone, not really looking at any of you as he spoke, “we should make a group chat to update each other on work”

The group hastily shared each other's details and Doyoung created the chat and pinned a set of three rules. 

The first was the group was strictly to be used for the project, no small talk or any other messages that weren't related to the project. The second rule was that no one talks about the group content in private chats as it will cause confusion among members. Lastly you weren't allowed to message after 9pm unless it was an emergency, a very serious emergency. 

“Dang is this the military ?” Jangjun snickered as Seungmin and Dami tried their best to hide their laughs. It was typical of people like Dami and Jangjun to not take anything seriously. Their families were well off and they were just studying just for a piece of paper you call a degree. Doyoung couldn't even hide his annoyance, not like he ever did but he seemed particularly pissed off today. 

“Look, just follow the rules and all of you get a free pass and then we never have to speak to each other again” Doyoung spat and made his way to the exit leaving the rest of you in utter shock. 

———

The first two days were utter hell as Doyoung tried to take control of almost every aspect of the project and frankly you didn't even mind because his business proposal was flawless, it was just the way he spoke to all of you that drove you insane. 

“Dami its not fucking rocket science all you need to do is make a clientele spreadsheet with the mock list the professor gave us” Doyoung didnt even lift his head from his laptop, unaware of the impact his words had on her. 

Dami pushed away from the desk and her eyes began to well up and before you knew it she was running out of the library, with Jisoo and Seungmin following quickly out of concern. 

“Nice move asshole” you rolled your eyes, continuing to work on your laptop. 

Doyoung peered up and pushed his spectacles up, “what was that?” 

“I said nice move asshole, do you intend to talk to your future clients like that?” He initiated a different kind of anger from you but you managed to keep your cool. Doyoung shrugged as if what he had said to Dami had not carried any weight and continued typing away. 

A few minutes of the members disappearance quickly turned to an hour and Doyoung’s nonchalance about the whole ordeal really ticked you off to the point of slamming your laptop closed and pushed back from the desk. 

Doyoung quirked his eyebrow at you, “Is something wrong ?” 

“Is something wrong” you mimicked him, “Jangjun hasn't come in today because you sent him on multiple errands, and you just made Dami cry over something so ridiculous”

Doyoung sat back in his seat and rubbed his temples, “They're all freeloaders, you and I are the only ones doing work, why do you care so much about them?” 

“Basic human fucking decency maybe?” you groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, “listen im not like them, i'm not gonna take shit from you”

“Sure”

“Youre a fucking asshole Kim Doyoung.” 

—-

You lay in bed and replayed that scene with Doyoung in your head multiple times. He was so unbothered by your antics nor did he care about anyone's feelings within the group. He was cold, heartless all he thought about was himself. His cold expression was practically engraved in your head, spending all these hours with him was really not your favourite pastime. 

Group 7 gc 7:00pm

KDY: I posted a schedule for tomorrow we will be working in pairs on the highlighted sections. 

You took a look at his document and groaned when you saw your name placed next to his. There was no way, no way in hell you want to work with him one on one. Not caring about breaking his rule, you pulled up a private chat with him and began expressing your concerns. 

y/n  x  KDY : 7:10pm 

Y/N: Hi, there's no fucking way in hell am I working with you. Change It. 

KDY: I said no private chats and no, I'm not changing it. 

Y/N: Wouldn't it be better for us to split and have the others actually DO work for once ?

KDY: I barely gave them room for error, we're going to be the most anyway and besides, I'd prefer someone who can handle...my personality. 

Y/N: …..so you agree..you are an asshole ?

KDY: I give people a reality check that's all..

Y/N: whatever makes you sleep at night...can I atleast choose our work venue because If I were stuck in a library again with you I might kill you. 

KDY: haha..

KDY: sure. 

Y/N: mango drop cafe, 10am. 

KDY: cool, see you then. 

‘Haha’. You had no idea why that text in particular riled you up. Did he find all of this amusing ? Was he making everyone's life a living hell because he enjoyed it ? You stared at his messages and somehow ended up on his profile picture. He was leaning against a railing dressed in all black with his hooded eyes concentrated on the camera lense, Your realization of how attractive he was came from the fact that you stared at the picture for a good 20 minutes. You wondered who took the picture, a girlfriend maybe ? You shook your head. He seemed too uptight to be getting laid. You sighed, closing your phone and awaited yet another day with the insufferable gorgeous man that was Kim Doyoung. 

You arrived quite early at the cafe but of course Doyoung was here before you, already typing away at his laptop, in his usual attire. You greeted the barista and placed an order for a chilled cafe latte before making your way over to him. 

“Hey” you said simply and took a seat opposite him in the booth. Doyoung’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice and made room for your books on the table.

“You're here early” 

“You're already picking a fight with me?” you said casually setting up your workspace. 

Doyoung chuckled under his breath and shook his head, “I just didn't expect you this early y/n it's not that serious.” 

You ignored his words and got straight to work, not in the mood to play his little game. You felt Doyoung look at you a few times. You weren't sure if it were to check if youre doing the right thing or he was just looking at you. 

“Well i'm done with my part” you stretched your arms above your head and yawned. 

“Yeah I'm pretty much done too, Do you want another cup of coffee ?” Doyoung offered pointing to your empty cup. You were taken back by his softer demeanor but quickly nodded, “uh yeah sure.” 

Doyoung returned carrying a tray of two fresh cups of coffee and a slice of cheesecake. Setting everything down he handed you the extra fork and placed the cheesecake in the middle of the table to make it easier to share. 

“H-how much do I owe you ?” You fumbled in your bag for your wallet. 

“It's okay, it's my treat” Doyoung replied, placing a piece of cheesecake in his mouth and slowly licking the fork clean. You gulped as his tongue darted out carefully licking the cream from the metal, not leaving any residue behind. You had no idea what the hell was going on but you felt hot, almost claustrophobic. 

“You're okay?” Doyoung asked innocently, unaware of what he was doing to you. 

“Why are you being...nice?” You questioned, knitting your eyebrows together as the man continued to act as if this was his usual behavior. 

Doyoung pursed his lips and placed the fork on the plate, “You want me to be mean to you?”

“No I just don't get-”

“I apologized to Dami and she told me she only overreacted because the guy she likes, Seungmin was there” Doyoung explained and removed his spectacles, “she was embarrassed to ask anyone for help, I paired them up for today.”

“Wait wha-”

“Also Jangjun works at the campus radio” Doyoung continued, “I had only found out the day we all met, I gave him tasks that will allow him more flexibility, that way he doesn't have to join group sessions often.” 

You blinked, unable to form any words in order to reply to Doyoung. Especially after he chuckled at your speechlessness, knowing you didn't bother getting his side of the story at first. 

“You were right y/n I dont have to be an asshole all the time, I just like to get my work done” He shrugged. You kept eye contact with him but somehow it felt as if he were still toying with you, waiting on your next reaction. He seemed like he played this game often, making sure he always had the upper hand. Doyoung seemed relaxed as he stared at you, taking another scoop of the cheesecake and slowly ran his tongue over his lips after his bite. What the fuck was he doing ? 

“Y/N ?” you heard a familiar voice come from the entrance of the cafe. Your attention diverted from Doyoung to the blonde haired boy who began approaching your table. 

“Jungwoo ? oh my God what are you doing here ?” You stood up and pulled him into a tight hug and pecked his cheek. Doyoung shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched your exchange with the stranger. 

“I got off early from class about to go to Subway, are you still doing that group project thing?” Jungwoo looked over at your table and half smiled at Doyoung who tried to distract himself with his phone. 

“Uh yeah but i'm all done here I think, wanna hang out ?” you hooked arms with Jungwoo as he nodded enthusiastically. You turned around and scratched the back of your head, 

“So...uh”

“Were all done you can go, I have somewhere to be anyway” Doyoung smiled as you slowly began packing up your things. 

“Alright, see you tomorrow I guess” you bid your goodbye and headed out for lunch with Jungwoo. 

—-

You had just finished up your skincare routine and caught up with a few instagram posts when you noticed Doyoung had followed you. Sitting up in bed you scrolled through his feed curiously. Every post was aesthetically pleasing and he looked absolutely hot in every single one of them. He had to have a girlfriend right ? No guy posts pictures this good without women flooding his DMs. 

There was no harm in doing the same since he was in your class, you decided to return the follow and close the app. Suddenly your phone vibrated with a new message in your chats. 

Y/N X KDY  10:30pm

KDY: hey 

Y/N: aren't you breaking two of your rules right now ?

KDY: haha 

KDY: I didn't realize what time it was…

Y/N: ….anyways..is this about work at least ?

KDY: kinda… you left one of your books at the cafe. I have it with me. 

Y/N: oh… thank you.

KDY: no prob...oh I hope its not a problem I added you on ig

Y/N: no its okay we are friends I guess

KDY: haha I thought I was the insufferable asshole..

Y/N: you are...but not all the time. Look im sorry for saying shitty things about you. 

KDY: its all good. 

KDY: …….

Y/N: ..whats up?

You twirled your fingers as you watched the three dots from Doyoung pop up and disappear over and over again. What was taking him so long ? 

KDY: that guy….that you met at the cafe..is he your boyfriend ?

Y/N: Jungwoo ? no way we've been friends since high school.

KDY: oh..

Y/N:....why would you even ask that ?

KDY: curious. 

Y/N: curious about who I'm dating ??

KDY: A little. 

You frowned at your phone and noticed Doyoung had changed his profile picture to a selfie. The picture was..something alright. You bit down on your lip as you enlarged the picture, which showed a wet haired Doyoung with his head resting in his palm and his long index finger was placed between his plump lips. 

“Fuck y/n get yourself together” you gave yourself a pep talk before opening his chat back up again. 

Y/N X KDY  10.54PM

Y/N: fine if you can ask a question can I ask one..

KDY: go ahead 

Y/N: who do you keep thirst trapping for ?

KDY: ….haha thirst trapping ? 

Y/N: Yeah who do keep posting these hot pics for huh

KDY: …..

KDY: You think i'm hot ?

Fuck. Why did you word it that way. You groaned immediately regretting sending that message but something in you was so curious about him you decided to just risk it, what was the worst that could happen ? 

Y/N: well yeah, I mean I'm sure everyone thinks you're attractive, you seem to know it too. 

KDY: wow. 

KDY: I think you're hot too. 

What the hell was going on. You felt your face heat up and you placed your pillow in between your legs as you turned on your side. 

KDY: I was almost disappointed when I thought Jungwoo was your boyfriend, he's way too passive. 

Y/N: ...and what makes you think you know what kind of man I need ?

KDY: hmmm

KDY: first of, with that fucking attitude of yours..A dominate one. 

You swallowed hard as you felt a tingle in your stomach, squeezing your thighs together on the pillow to create more friction. 

Y/N: I could say the same for you. 

KDY: You may think youre dominate in many aspects...but when it comes to fucking..im the one in charge. 

God you hated how hot that sounded. He had you in the palm of his hand through text. You were a mess and he wasn't even the room to fuel it. You wanted him so fucking bad it was insane. 

Y/N: running your mouth doesn't equate to doing it you know...

KDY:.....

KDY: then would you like me to show you ?

Everything happened so damn fast. One minute you two were texting the next minute you were sharing your apartment location and Doyoung was on his way over. You scrambled to put on sexier underwear and do your hair, still in shock by the fact that Doyoung was on his way over to bang you. 

You jumped when you heard the doorbell and realized it was him. Opening the door you were greeted to a very different look of Doyoung. His hair was messy and reached his eyes. Instead of his usual black academic attire he wore a loose white vest that showed off his toned chest and arms, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. 

“Hi” Doyoung smirked, his eyes were dark as he scanned your figure. 

“Hi” you responded, leaning against the wall in the hallway and looked up at him. Doyoung slowly approached you, like a lion circling its prey. His slender fingers danced lightly along your body, drawing a line from your waist until he found your throat and wrapped his cold fingers around it. He bit down on his lip as he studied how perfectly his hand looked around it and squeezed gently, smirking after hearing a soft moan emit from you. 

“I want you to do as I say, any back chat from you will get you punished you got that ?” he brought his lips down to your neck and exhaled. 

You nodded in response but that wasn't good enough for Doyoung. You felt his squeeze on your throat once more and he used his hips to pin you against the wall, “use your words” he gritted his teeth. 

“Yes sir” you replied obediently, and felt him smile against your neck. 

“Good girl, and if i'm too rough let me know so I can stop okay ?” he replied, his voice changed and it was much sweeter and genuine than before. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek when you nodded and led you to the bed. 

Doyoung lay you on the bed, already stripping off his shirt and ordered you to undress yourself and rid him off his sweatpants. You bit down on your lip taking notice of how aroused he was when you palmed his member. 

Doyoung watched you through hooded eyes as you discarded his sweatpants and boxers. He softly patted your head and grabbed a tuft of your hair in order to make you look up at him. 

“Spit” he ordered, and held out his hand and you did as you were told. You watched as he lathered himself with it, moaning as he stroked himself. He was so damn sexy, biting down on lip and slowly pleased himself as you watched. 

“Do you want this inside you sweetheart ?” he cooed and placed a finger under chin. 

You nodded quickly, “Yes please” 

“What do you want me to do baby ?” He purred and hovered over you as you lay on the bed, breathing heavily as his fingers moved against your warm skin, tracing your curves, ghosting over your heat and returning back to your lips to insert a digit inside. 

Doyoung watched diligently as you sucked on his finger like the good girl he knew you were. He finally pulled his finger out and with one swift movement entered with his member before you could even respond to his question. You moaned as he quickly slammed his hips into yours, wasting no time in gaining a rhythm as you marked his back with scratch marks feeling as though you were on a high. 

Doyoung fucked you like a pro, wasting no time to switch positions and had you on all fours, slapping your ass before slamming into you again, that pretentious smirk forming on his face as he heard your whimpers asking him for more. 

“Are you ready to cum sweetheart ?” he asked, pulling you up as his strokes became slower and tugged on your ear with his teeth. 

“Y-yes yes i'm ready” you panted.

“What's the magic word ?” he growled as he grabbed your throat and slowed down his pace as you were nearing your climax. 

“Fuck youre so annoying PLEASE, please let me cum Doyoung fuck” 

Doyoung chuckled and picked up his pace until you finally climaxed and he followed shortly after, collapsing in the bed next to you. 

“You have such an attitude God” he rolled his eyes playfully, bringing the blanket over your bodies and grinned when you moved in to cuddle him. 

“I guess you will have to fix that some time” you yawned and wrapped your arm around his waist, “but I have to admit, maybe I do enjoy the insufferable Kim Doyoung bossing me around once in a while.”

[erensproudsimp]

Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

[snapefiction]

#9. Fever - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 9 of Snapemas! Ihm sorry for the short break but Uni and work kept me busy. Enjoy the new Chapters! :)

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️ 

Pairing: Severus Snape x Assistant!Reader

Word count: 3022

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your last name

#9. Fever

Being an assistant was stressful. But being the Potions Assistant who's constantly trying not to completely disappoint the Professor was nerve wrecking. Every day you tried your best to get on 110% of Concentration. It started with getting up early to get ready, reading a few pages of a new book you got yourself as a early Christmas present, eating breakfast, heading to class and assist at Professor Snape´s Class only to stay in the Dungeons until late in the evening to grade tests or just correct Homework's. Sometimes you even forgot Lunch or Dinner but you really didn't mind. You always sneaked some Christmas cookies or bakery goods in your pocket so you would always have some food in your robe. Professor Snape didn't mind as long as you did your chores and wouldn't annoy him. Sometimes usually on Mondays or Thursdays when Professor Snape was especially busy you made sure to leave some cookies on his desk as well. Knowing he would huff at you for this niceties but would also be thankful for it.

Today was another Thursday , Thursday the 17th to be exact and in one week would be Christmas. Professor Snape told you that he wants to return the recents test back to the students on Monday. Which meant for you to put on a few nightshifts if you would want to stay up to his plan. You didn't mind taking this extra work, actually you enjoyed it. Being an Professor has always been your dream job and also you enjoyed learning from such an smart man as Professor Snape.

Besides, he may be a few years older than you are but he still was a pretty handsome man. You had a thing for him. For the way he speaks, his way to teach, the way he entered a room and took all the attention on him, how he used to dress and also for the way he never even cared a little bit about what people thought about him. On the one side you wanted to be like him and on the other you just wanted to be by his side. That's why you didn't mind stressing yourself out. It's like you almost didn't notice how time passed whenever he was around. The both of you didn't talk much but it was enough to feel like there was good company. Back to the fact that it was 9pm already and you were still correcting homework. A small shiver went down your spine only to set in goosebumps on your arms and legs. It was always cold in the Dungeons but as the night crept around it almost got unbearable for a Frostbite like you were.

As you got up to grab your robes from one of the chairs across of your table you noticed how  a sharp pain grew in your head. Bad timing for a headache you thought. Not thinking about it you just filled your cup with another tea.

,,Professor, do you want another Tea as well?" You asked slightly nervously. His head slowly looked up to you. ,,No thank you, Miss YLN." As he didn't look away from you for another few seconds you sat down and dared to ask. ,,Is there anything else I can do for you?" He laid down his quill and shook his head. ,,Miss YLN, are you okay ? You're really pale." Taking a small sip from your cup you thought about your words for a few seconds before answering him. ,,I- um - I'm okay. I'm just having a little Headache. I probably didn't drink enough today." Snape's look of concern didn't fade right away but your words calmed him so much that he continued to write something down. He wasn't as scary as everyone thought he was. Actually he was always making sure that you felt comfortable as his Assistant and that you could always learn the most out of every class. Maybe he just isn't good with forming his emotions and stuff like this into words, you thought before taking the quill back into your hand and began to write down some feedback for the student.

Waking up as the sunlight hit your face you noticed how late it must've been by now. As you jumped on your feet you felt like you just wanted to lay back down again. The headache didn't fade but grew a bit and your throat was sore by now as well. What a pretty way to start your day. Putting on your fresh clothes you ran down to Professor Snapes class. As you walked through the wooden door after knocking it twice you noticed how the class hasn't started yet.

,,Miss YLN, you're pretty late today." Professor Snape stated as he was brewing something on his desk not really paying you much attention at first but then turned to you. Gladly you knew he would never be as mad with you as with the students.

,,I'm sorry, I usually never oversleep. Can I help you?" Scanning your face he wore it again. This small concerned look.

,,Maybe it's for the best of you will take yourself back for today and go back to your chambers before midnight." He advertises and continued brewing something. Feeling like you disappointed him somehow you let yourself fall down on your seat only to take out the Homework you corrected the night before and waited for the students while making some tea.

The whole day long you could follow the concerned Glance from your favourite Professor and colleague. He didn't say anything but the way you felt your energy fade from hour to hour and later minute to minute you knew his Glances weren't just expressing his concern but also an warning to take care of yourself. Sitting on your chair at 11pm you heard how he slid back his chair only to slowly walk over to you like a hunter for it's prey.

,,You know that not taking care of your health needs is not only reckless but also childish. You're obviously not alright and how are you trying to learn something if you won't remember anything anyways." Shaking his head you felt ashamed by getting lectured of him like that.

,,I'm sorry, Professor. Tomorrow I will be better, I promise." You knew that you weren't going to be better by tomorrow but you just didn't want to give in, let him do all the work by himself right before Christmas and miss his classes which really interested you. It was a tie. As a sign that you'd take his words at heart you closed your notebook and sent him a weak smile. ,,Goodnight, Professor Snape." By now he almost sat down again but followed your actions with his eyes. ,,Goodnight, Miss YLN. Get well soon." Closing the door behind you noticed how warm your cheeks have gotten. They always got red whenever he spoke to you but now they felt especially warm. Not thinking anything about it you got back to your Chambers only to continue grading five more tests until you fell asleep on your desk and headed to bed a few minutes later.

The Morning again was awful. You didn't overslept today but didn't sleep at all besides the few minutes you passed out at your desk. You were so tired but still couldn't fall asleep. Your Pain in your Head and throat didn't fade again and by now it was clear to you that there was something big awaiting you. Nevertheless you still decided to grab some of the tests. Gladly you remembered that the weekend had just begun and you haven't have to help the students all day long. You had still so much to do. You wanted to wrap a few presents, grade the last few tests, finish your book, correct homework and help Professor Snape brew a new Potion. As you looked into the Mirror you could see how the lack of sleep has drawn your face darker around the eyes and paler than usual around the cheeks wich still blushed. All together you looked like a mess. Even though whatever was coming to you hasn't fully developed inside of you yet it was clearly to see from the outside. Splashing some water on your face in hope it could fix your visual appearance just a bit and brushing your teeth you got more And more tired. After pulling your pullover over your head and taking your robe with you, you walked down to the Potions Classroom.

The Professor wouldn't approve that you were there today, you simply knew it. But your assistant contract was almost over and you tried to take everything with you. So it had gotten even more important for you to fully concentrate until the classes were over on Tuesday. Also Professor Snape started to trust you by everything you did, it was a great opportunity to test your limits and gain knowledge. So why would your health get things mixed up right before Christmas? Remembering your Professors Words you set yourself a Limit. Until Tuesday I will continue to work. Afterwards, over Christmas I will try to slow down. Nodding to approve your own thoughts you knocked on the door.

,,Come in." The Deep Voice instructed and by his tone you noticed that he was stressed out as well. Doing as you were told you entered the Classroom only to earn an disapproving Glance from your supervisor. ,,You look like a walking dead. You really should try to rest. Why won't you listen to me?" If you wouldn't be so concentrated on hiding your blush you probably would've heard his concern and despair dripping out of his words.

,,I just wanted to grab some papers and help you brew the potions. Afterwards I will head back to my chambers instantly." He eyed you up and down.

,,Well, I'm sorry to inform you that I for must away. The Ministry asked for my help so brewing the potions has to wait. I will be back tomorrow evening and until then I instruct you to rest. Merlin knows you need it." Walking over to your desk to grab everything you needed you saw a small tissue laying there spread open with a few cookies laying on top of it. It was laid down the way used to do it for your Professor. Smiling widely you turned around. ,,Thank you." Without a further Words you surprised him with a hug. He was so stiff but after a few seconds passed by he eventually rubbed your back slightly. ,,Thank you, Professor. It means a lot to me." Slightly letting him go you receive a smile of his in return. ,,You may call me Severus by now. This year we have spent so much time together you don't need to call me by this title unless Students are around." There it was again. The way your cheeks blushed, your stomach tingled and you became lightheaded. ,,Okay. So please call me Y/N then as well." You both looked at each other and sealed your deal with a small nod from each side.

,,Now get back to your chambers. I won't repeat myself again. You need rest, Y/N." Sighing you followed his instructions after gathering all your papers, materials and the cookies.

Seeing his Assistant like that didn't just only concern him but also made him feel sorry. Knowing it was wrong, against multiple Rules, against his own principes he still couldn't help it but slowly start to care about her. Care in form of worrying, thinking about her and after she would leave his classroom wishing she would come back again. That kind of care. Seeing how overworked, stressed out and tired she looked like would almost give him a physical stitch. Was he expecting too much of her ? Well, he had high Standards. He wasn't denying it but if the students were already stressed out and panicked because of his classes how must she feel? Promising to guarantee her a break to cure whatever had overtook her health lately. After not seeing her at Breakfast again he'd even sneak some cookies in a small tissue before sliding it into his robe like she'd always use to do. Even if she wouldn't attend at breakfast she'd always come to class. Her curiosity wouldn't allow her to miss anything. He loved that trait about her. It reflected perfectly how truly interested she was and how pure her instinct of wanting to gain knowledge motivated her from day to day even though she wasn't feeling her best. One time when the both of them talked late at night hovering over some test she admitted how much she loved Christmas. He felt his breath fade away and he was enchanted by her completely. The way she talked about fairy lights, Christmas traditions, the whole feast in general made him weak for her. Y/N's Excitement was so contagious that even an old kid like he was felt the Christmas spirit again. That’s why he felt like he wanted to do something for her so she could feel better even if she would have to stay at Hogwarts over her favourite Holidays.

Leaving the classroom you felt more tired than before. You were happy that you saw Severus, but sad that he had to leave. But actually your Body was grateful for this forced break. You quickly graded the last four test and corrected the last homework before grabbing your book and finally laying down again. Your eyes couldn´t even read the first words before you felt asleep again.  From time to time- it must’ve been hours - you woke up again. Not being able to move or think you just faded back to a dreamless sleep.

The next time you woke up it was completely dark outside. You woke up because you were freezing so much you feared you could freeze any minute if you wouldn’t put on an extra sweater. Pushing yourself back on your feet you could feel every inch of your body hurt. But the worst was this constant noise in your ear. There it was. It finally hit you and probably would knock you off your feet this time. After you reached your sweater, pulled it over your head you directly laid back down again only to sleep until the next afternoon. At least that’s the last time you remembered to wake up. For a short moment you could remember that you probably drink something or even eat, you still had those Cookies Severus gave you, but were so tired. Your eyes couldn’t open up completely from how tired and completely exhausted you were.

Returning earlier from the Ministry than anticipated Severus made his way to his Chambers. Before he went to the Ministry he had stopped at Diagon Alley to get something that had been on his mind lately. Of course he would notice how often you had to deal with shivers and goosebumps because of the freezing air in the dungeons. And when he had seen this one new Robe he couldn’t stop imagine how it would fit on you. So when he came back he instantly bought it and even wrapped it in a Christmas themed wrapping paper. His excitement was rising from every hour to hour. How would you react? Was it too personal? Pushing his Doubts aside he waited until Monday morning.

When Monday morning arrived he couldn’t wait any longer to see you walking through his door. Time passed, the students arrived but you didn’t. Worrying if you overslept again he couldn’t fully concentrate on his Classes. Before Lunch it was enough for him. He had to find you.

Still laying in bed you couldn’t understand what’s real anymore and what’s not. The fever overtook you and you weren’t able to function anymore.

Knocking on your Door Severus stood there impatiently. ,,Miss YLN?“  After a few seconds he tried it again. ,,Miss- Y/N, is everything okay?“ Dropping the formalities his worries grew. ,,I’m starting to worry about you.“  After time passed he couldn’t hesitate but open the door with an spell.

The first time you woke up again you noticed how your head wasn’t hurting as bad as recently anymore. Also you weren’t in your bed. This one was more uncomfortable and the light from above way brighter than in your room. Looking to the side you saw Severus sitting there, holding a book trying not to fall asleep.

,,Professor.“ Smiling wagely you tried to sit up a bit. Surprised he laid the Book aside and quickly helped you. ,,I told you, you can call me Severus.“ Letting out a small hoarse chuckle you nodded. ,,Okay, Severus. What day is-´´ ,,Christmas.“ He answered not waiting for your answer. ,,Oh, guess I’ve been sleeping for some time then.. I’m so sorry. Did you find my papers? I got everything ready so you could hand them out.“  Chuckling he slowly handed you a cup. ,,It’s Christmas and you just want to work. Not even I want to work.“ As you let the water hit your mouth you followed his Movements. He took a Package from the Ground and set it aside of you. ,,Maybe this can distract you.“  Taking himself a bit back so he wouldn’t appear as intrusive as he felt like he sat back against the chair. Watching your shaking fingers opening the Package and unwrapping the robe he couldn’t hide his smile. Proud of himself but still worried about you he was glad that you still was able to wake up again. He wouldn’t admit it but he checked every potion twice that Madame Pomfrey had given you. Even though he brewed the Potions himself he wanted to make sure it was the best he could brew. Blushing you thanked him multiple times before pulling him in a hug again. Thank you, Prof- Severus. Thank you for taking care.“ Your fever still wasn’t cured yet but you were in best company and knew the best Potions Master who could help you out anytime. ,,Merry Christmas to you too.“

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[maeve-writes]

Little Red Corvette

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky x Reader

Rating: 18+; Minors DNI

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, public sex, slight praise and daddy kink.

Summary: Bucky finds happiness in fixing up classic cars. He has his sights set on one in particular. When he can’t find it, you make it your mission to do whatever it takes to get it.

a/n: This is written for @buckyblues 4k Follower Challenge. (Congrats again!) I chose Little Red Corvette by Prince. Normally I’m inspired by lyrics, but the idea of Bucky in a sexy red two seater with a pretty lil’ thing next to him made me weak. I wanted this to be straight up smut but feelings got in the way.

This is not beta’d. Forgive any mistakes!

-

When Bucky came to terms with his new life, found some peace in a world without Soldat looming over his shoulder, he found solace in his tinkering. He would often take apart whatever technology he could find to see how it worked only to put it together again. It was therapeutic, a constant reminder that things were never broken for long, someone would always be there to fix it.

You were the one to piece him back together. Sam helped, too, of course, tightening any loose screws you may have missed, but you did all of the heavy lifting. You found out what made Bucky work, what parts needed replacing and you fixed him. He would never be the original James Barnes, but no one ever stayed the same, and you didn’t want him to be. You liked the man you woke up next to every morning, who blinked at you with sleep hazed eyes and pressed lazy kisses across your face. You loved the man that ravaged you at night, on any surface, buried as deep as he could go so he could become a part of you, to feel you against his soul.

While you found his tinkering irksome at times, especially when he would steal the coffee maker or microwave when you were in a rush to get to work and just need to zap fry breakfast and fill up your thermos, it was mostly endearing to see his nose scrunched up in concentration as he disassembled things with childlike fascination. 

What broke you was when you flopped down on the couch with controller in hand and no console to receive its signal. 

Storming into the garage, you slammed open the door to find him hunched over his work bench. “James,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You could see his muscle tense underneath the grey henley he had on, his breathing stilled. Only two women ever used that tone with him, one was his mother, the other was you, and he wasn’t sure which he was more afraid of. When he didn’t answer, you leaned against the door frame and glared at the large frame of his back. “Care to tell me where my PS5 is?” 

His shoulder dropped slightly and he dared to look over it at you. Bucky had seen death, had seen war, had seen the near end of the universe itself and nothing made his blood run colder than the receiving end of your icy stare. “I’ll put it back together,” he offered. The grinding of your teeth made him flinch and he dropped his tools to cross the room and make things right.

It took two months to find a replacement for your beloved PlayStation. How could he have known how hard it was to find one in stock? Even when it came in and he hooked it back up for you, you still held out one more day before you finally caved and forgave him with a two day fuckfest that ended with a proposal that Bucky moved on from electronics to cars.

He took the suggestion and ran with it. The next day he and Sam went to the junkyard to find a good frame with potential and towed it back with that bright, genuine smile of his and an eagerness to get started. He spent days on the internet ordering parts, looking up facts on what modern modifications worked best, and watched video after video of reviews on classic sports cars.

You found him in the garage most nights when his dreams became too much and he didn’t want to wake you. Some nights you would bring him snacks with a kiss and leave him to his work. Other nights you would climb behind him on his bench, wrap your arms around his waist and sleep against his back. Either way, you allowed him to work because that’s what Bucky needed.

When he wasn’t off on a mission or wrapped up in you, he was researching cars or fixing them. After one was finished from the base up, he’d give it away or offer it to a charity auction, then start all over. He had his favorites, every “car guy” did, and he also had his white whale.

One night you felt him crawl up your body impressively hidden behind the spread of your book. You lifted a curious brow but before you could lower your novel, he shoved his tablet in your face as he took a seat on your thighs. “Every time I try to find one, someone snatches it away,” he told you, voice a little huffy as if he was seconds away from a tantrum. 

“It can’t be that hard,” you tutted, tucking your book away to help him with his search. It turned out that it was incredibly hard to find any sort of form of his new obsession. Every post that either of you found had been sold or had a sale pending. Even body frames were hard to come by, much to your luck. “I’m sorry, babe, but we’ll find one soon.”

Bucky resigned himself to finding a filler car. While he was still enthusiastic about fixing up something new, you could tell his heart was set on it - the 1965 Corvette Convertible, specifically, Rally Red in color. There wasn’t much that your man asked for in life, even though it owed him so much, so for him to yearn for one thing so much and not be able to obtain it, it upset you.

So, you were going to make it happen. 

You spent your days working as usual and your nights searching for his coveted car. Your browser was filled with tabs, each watching car auctions, only to be outbid on all of them. Frustrated, you flipped on your VPN, opened up your TOR browser and dipped into the dark web to dig deeper. It wasn’t your first time going through back channels to get what you wanted and it wouldn’t be your last. If it would make Bucky happy, it would be worth the risk.

Two weeks later you told Bucky you would be working later than usual. You had been playing up a huge project at work and the deadline was coming closer. He, of course, hated when you were out past dark without him, but he never vocalized his concerns because he knew the bite he would receive in return. You could take care of yourself, he knew that, but he would still worry because that was his job.

You took an Uber from work to meet the seller at the small airport on the edge of the city. The man was from Germany and specialized in vintage cars; if he didn’t have one you wanted, he’d find one for a hefty price, of course. But any amount was worth your man’s happiness, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you held the small bag of cash in your hand as you crossed the airfield.

Sitting outside what you assumed to be a private jet was the cherry red two seater, top already down and looking as beautiful as the picture you saw online. Yeah, it was going to be worth every penny. “Jonas,” you asked as you approached the man standing cross armed next to the car. He towered over you by at least a full foot and a half and was just as wide. His dark eyes watched you approach, a curious flint sparked in them.

“Yes. You are early,” he noted. He held out a beefy hand and you placed the money in it. “Not one for pleasantries, hmm?” His laughter echoed across the runway and you offered him an amused smile. “Your man is a lucky one.” His other hand was held out, this time with the keys to the car. “For you to meet a complete stranger in the middle of the night, it is dangerous, no?”

You narrowed your gaze and lifted a brow. It seemed your look was enough of an answer because Jonas gave you another laugh. “A woman of very little words, I like you. We will do business again, yes?” It was a statement rather than a question. “Enjoy.”

He swept an arm toward the driver seat and you slid inside. With a turn of the key, the car purred to life and a smile grew on your face. You revved the engine twice, nodded to the man a few feet away before you sped towards your house to give Bucky his gift. 

When you got home, he wasn’t there. You found a note left on the kitchen counter: Beers with Sam. -B

Normally you wouldn’t mind him going out because you were happy that he would be even willing to leave the house, but to only leave a note and not text you seemed worrisome.

You pushed any more negative thoughts out of your mind and headed to take a shower. By the time you got out and headed back to the kitchen to make yourself a quick sandwich, Bucky was home, sitting on the counter and watching you. “Hey, handsome, how’s Sam?” You leaned up to kiss him, but it wasn’t returned. “Something wrong?”

“You weren’t at work,” Bucky said evenly. “We stopped by to grab you dinner and you weren’t there.”

Your skin heated and you sighed. “Bucky, I can explain-“

He cut you off with a dismissive wave of his metal hand. “Don’t bother. If you’re seein’ someone else, you can just tell me.”

You recoiled like he slapped you across the face. “James,” you snapped, which caused him to tense up, “I would never, ever even dream of being with anyone but you.” You forced your way between his legs and cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you. “You are all that I want and no one will ever compare to you. Don’t ever say that again, okay? You’ll break my heart.”

He didn’t say anything, not for a few minutes, and neither did you. All he could do was stare into your eyes and see the truth in them. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay, I know why you did,” you assured him and pressed another kiss to his lips, this time you received one in response. “Now, can I tell you why I wasn’t at work?” He nodded once, a tiny glint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Well, I’d rather show you.”

You stepped away from the counter and pulled him along with you. With his hand in yours, you led him to the garage and flipped on the light with a, “Ta-da!”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed as he let go of you and stumbled into the room towards the car, all of the fear, worry and angst melting away instantly. “How did you-“ You pinched your forefinger and thumb together and twisted them in front of your pursed lips. He rolled his eyes but smiled and gestured to the driver seat.

“All yours, handsome,” you winked and hit the button to open the garage door.

He shook his head and patted the seat next to him, “You’re comin’ with me.” When you protested saying you were in your night clothes, he waved it off. “We’re just goin’ for a drive, sweetheart, nothin’ to dress up for.” You joined him with a reluctant sigh and flopped into the passenger seat. 

When the key turned and the engine purred, Bucky let out a pornographic moan. You turned to him, brow perked. “Sweetheart,” he rasped, “you have no idea what this car does to me.” Your eyes flickered to the quickly growing bulge in his jeans before his deep chuckle caught your attention, “Or maybe you do.”

He reached over to pinch your chin between two metal fingers before crashing his lips against your own. His tongue fought its way inside of your mouth and licked sinfully against the roof of it. “Buckle up,” he whispered against the gasp you released as he sat back.

Lightheaded, you did as instructed and watched him adjust the mirrors and lights before he pulled out of the garage and sped down the driveway and through the neighborhood. His face was bright in the evening light, his smile outshone the moon. “You’re gorgeous,” you told him breathlessly, and you would have most likely not been heard over the wind whipping around you by any other person, but your super soldier caught every syllable and flushed at the compliment.

He took your hand into his and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle before it came to rest on his thigh. You could feel the happiness radiating off of him, seeping into your own pores and filling you up until your lips turned up into a matching smile. “What’re you thinkin’ about,” he asked you, flicking his attention from the road to you and back again.

“You,” you replied, “always you.”

The smile on his face grew and he squeezed your hand once more. He found a new happy place, one outside of your shared home, one not between your legs. It was there, in that car, racing free down the open road with his best girl in the seat next to him. “I’m thinkin’ about you, too,” he said as his hand guided yours towards his lap.

“Mr. Barnes,” you gasped playfully but allowed him to rest your hand against his tented jeans, “we can’t do this, it’s sinful.”

“Live a little, darlin’,” he played along, forcing you to squeeze him which caused him to groan.

You pinned your bottom lip between your teeth and rubbed at him over his clothes, feeling the heat of his arousal coming off him in burning waves. Your fingers worked open the button of his pants and with a little maneuvering, you were able to fish out his cock, hard and thick, violently red and dripping with need. His hiss as it hit the cool air caused you to jump back for a moment, but his needy whimper drew you back again. “I swear to god, Bucky, if you crash and kill me, I’m going to haunt you,” you warned him.

He blinked, taken aback by the rather brash statement, about to ask what you meant by that but you were already unbuckled, bent forward and taking him into your mouth. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, metal hand gripping the steering wheel tight enough to pop the stitching on the leather coating. 

Your tongue swirled around his tip, gathering what leaked out before you flattened your tongue and took more of him in. He was thick and long, hard to take all at once, but you had learned from many hours of practice just how to get all of his glorious cock down your throat. Your hands worked what wasn’t wet with your tongue yet as you bobbed up to suck on his head and relax your jaw. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart,” he cooed above you, his free hand bundling up your hair to keep it out of the way. “Fuck, your mouth works my cock so good.”

Delighted at his praise, you hummed in return that sent sparks to his core. You took more of him in, nearly all of him, with your cheeks hallowed and your tongue dancing along his skin. More praise fell from his lips, encouraging words and filthy promises, you almost forgot you’re in the car until the tires started to hit the bumps along the white line - an indication that Bucky was veering off of the road.

You pulled off of him much to his disappointment and saw that he parked along the side of the road. “What’re you doing,” you asked, wiping your spit away with the back of your hand. 

“You told me not to crash,” he shrugged and undid his seatbelt. “Now get over here and ride Daddy’s cock.”

The words hit you dead center and you nearly collapsed from how weak and needy they made you. “We seriously can’t do this, Buck, anyone can come by and see.”

“That’s livin’, darlin,” he replied. His flesh hand wrapped around his cock and started to pull on it, staring at you with half lidded eyes and a groan rumbled in his throat. “Are you gonna just sit there and stare or are you gonna enjoy the ride?”

Absently, you licked your lips and watched his hand work himself and honestly felt a little jealous of it. That was your cock, it was your responsibility to make it feel good. Thoughts of getting caught and thrown in jail over public indecency were thrown out of the window and you crawled over to him, losing your sleep shorts on your way over.

“No panties? That’s my good girl,” Bucky grinned, his hand moved from himself to your hips as you climbed into his lap. “Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy all day.” He hungrily licked his lips and reached between your bodies to run his fingers through your folds, drawing a gasp from you. “Absolutely soakin’, hm? Been thinkin’ about me, too?”

You nodded, your pussy clenching around nothing as Bucky’s fingers teasingly danced around your hole. “Daddy,” you whined, desperate for any sort of attention, “please?”

“What do you need, sweetheart,” he purred, his thumb ghosting over your clit as your slick began to run down your thighs. 

“You, Daddy,” you answered, hoping that was enough. “All of you. Only you.”

Bucky seemed to be happy with that and slid two thick fingers inside of you. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he hummed, slowly pulling them out again as you whined above him. “You need to be filled, don’t you, baby? My fingers won’t be enough.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip once more, threatening to draw blood, when you shook your head in response. “Need your cock,” you told him. “Please.”

“Always askin’ so nicely, sweetness, how could I deny you?” He twisted his fingers inside you one last time before he held himself steady so you could line up. “Sink down on Daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

You steadied yourself with one hand on the headrest of his seat and the other was used to guide his tip towards your core. Once he slipped inside, your hand shot up to grip at his shirt as you lowered yourself with satisfied moan which was nearly drowned out by Bucky’s. “Too big,” you sighed, seated and feeling stretched and full.

“But you’re takin’ it, darlin’,” he smiled up at you, his skin flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat. “You’re doing so good.” You preened at his compliment and returned his smile. “You move when you’re ready.”

You took the time to adjust to angle and his size, leaning down to exchange a lazy kiss. When you parted for air, you shifted your weight to wrap your arms around his neck and raised your hips to slide up his cock only to slam back down with a moan.

“Is that how you’re gonna to play it, sweetheart,” he asked breathlessly. When you replied with the same harsh roll of your hips, Bucky growled and his hands found your hips. You could feel the bite of his grip against your bone, you knew the bruises it would bring in the morning, but it would be worth it. “Can’t have a nice, slow fuck in the car, can we? My girl needs it hard and rough.”

He shifted his legs to plant his feet firmly on the floor of the car and started to meet your hips with a harsh snap of his own. Delighted at the feral snarl that curled his lips, you increased your speed, bouncing on his thick thighs as he fucked up into you, a growl erupting from him with each meeting of your hips. “Yes,” you gasped, “that’s it, Daddy. Just like that.”

“Yeah, I know how my dirty little girl likes it,” he grunted over the sound of your skin slapping and your slick sex sucking him in. “I can hear how much she likes it.”

Your head fell forward as he pounded up into you, the lewd squeak of the seat joined the chorus of your moans. “So close,” you told him.

But he already knew by the way you fluttered around him, coaxing him toward his own end. His metal hand left your hip and moved between you to seek out your swollen bud. “Gonna cum for me, good girl,” he asked. You tried to answer, tried to nod, but the way his hips shoved up into you and the cool metal against your heated sex that rubbed desperately at your clit was far too much.

A delicious snap came from within you and spread a white hot fire throughout your body. You came with his name on your lips, a desperate, holy cry. And he wasn’t far behind, a few hard thrusts and he spilled into you, whispering praise and adoration.

You stayed joined until the mess between your legs became itchy and the bugs started to swarm from the sweat on your bodies. “Best mill and half I’ve ever spent,” you sighed happily, lifting off of his lap.

“Wait, how much?!”

[theoriginalladya]

when they haven’t seen each other for a while (bonus point if they’re not sure the other one is alive) and all this time they’ve been trying to stay strong, but when they reunite, they crash into each other’s arms, and completely breakdown…(Abboats)

Oh my goodness, this one turned into something far more epic than I imagined! lol 2600 words later... I have a prompt for you! I'm only posting a portion of it here because of length. The rest is over on AO3. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU so much for this one! This is something I've been toying around with inside of my head since they first started making themselves known to me, and your prompt finally provided the necessary path! <3

HUGE thanks to @shadoedseptmbr for a second set of eyes on this monster! <3 <3

from this prompt list

On AO3 here

(commissioned art of Abby Williams by the fabulous @rosenkow)

A War That Needs Winning

War is hell…

The ungodly screeching growl of reaperized batarians, so close as to pierce her ears, chases Abby into hiding behind a vehicle-sized chunk of crumbled stone without conscious thought. If she lives past this battle, through this nightmare, she will never, ever, take anything for granted ever again, most especially an appreciation for silence. The ability to just sit, be one with it as it fills her, floating away on a sea of calm – nothing in the galaxy compares to that… except, perhaps, the freedom from fear and terror.

As quietly as possible, she yanks her rifle free and lifts it to rest on the top edge of the stone. Using the scope, she sights the horrific beast and takes aim, seeking out the vulnerable spot between its four eyes. While she has no love for batarians on a good day – she has yet to meet anyone who grew up in susceptible human colonies who does, to be honest – killing this… this thing and putting it out of its misery is a small mercy. It was once a living, breathing, thinking being. Now it is only a mindless shell. There is certainly no joy to be found in this.

How many husks have I done the same for? Reaperized turians? It’s a kindness to what it once was…

That it assists the war effort is purely secondary; no one, not asari, turian, krogan, batarian, human, or any other species, deserves such a fate. She sincerely hopes if it ever happens to her, someone is kind enough to destroy the twisted, corrupted version of herself being used as a weapon. That belief is, in part, what keeps the terror at bay when she is out on a mission.

Ever patient, she focuses and waits for her shot. Seconds pass that seems like hours, until… The cannibalized creature turns in her direction, gives her a perfect target, and her finger pulls against the trigger.

Headshot, down you go!

Without a sound, she leaps to her feet and scrambles away. She has no idea the time, her omni-tool now broken, but there’s a schedule and instinct screams loudly that she’s behind. There is no other option but moving forward. Not only is there a schedule, but she has a job to do, a purpose, and it has to be done right or everything will all be for naught.

I can do this! I promised Sealgaire I will be there… and dammit, a Williams always keeps her word!

Working her way through the devastation that is what remains of London, while difficult isn’t entirely impossible. It would be far easier if her shuttle hadn’t crashed and she had the rest of her team to assist, but even she sees Fortune’s blessing in the mere fact she walked away. Even more, the crash came near Kensington, an area she knows very well thanks to those early weeks and months spent here with Coats.

Coats. Abby winces, rubbing absently across her sternum. Ryan.

Slipping into the shadows between two buildings, she swipes the back of her hand across her brow, ignoring the smear of blood that comes away on it. The piercing ache from battle injuries sustained in the crash she can live with; the guilt for surviving when none of the rest of her team did? That’ll be more of a challenge, but one she’ll deal with later. For now, her concentration is on make it to the FOB, to rendezvous with the rest of Hammer. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.

But what of mine?

In the back of her mind, she continues to hear the last transmission the shuttle received before it went down, words from the team guiding them in.

Be advised: Enfield reporting 80% KIA. Camden, 75% KIA. Redbridge, 92% KIA. Kensington, 100% KIA.

Kensington… Ryan…

Pulling lower lip between her teeth and biting hard, Abby desperately searches for a way to block the despair trying to take hold.

I know you better than that, Mharú! You won’t allow it – not you, not the rest! It can’t be true…!

Read the whole thing here // Read the series here

[tartagilicious]

[CN] Lucien’s Sunset Date (eng)

this date is amazing ugly sobbing but if this doesn’t post I’m rioting. also, this makes me wanna dance under the stars with lucien while listening to feel good by fromis_9 is that too much to ask, universe?

--

MC: the sweet and sour short ribs, black pepper beef tenderloin, boiled cabbage heart... the meal is almost done!

I checked the recipes on my mobile phone while checking on the dishes in the bento box. Recently, Lucien’s research institute is working on a new project. He stayed in the institute for several days and did not come home.

I studied a few new dishes in my free time, but I never had the opportunity to try them with him. So, I took advantage of the rest of the day to cook and made a bento. Of course, I was also planning to see him out of my own selfishness.

When I happily took a few quick photos of the bento, I marked “Professor Xu’s love bento” on the photos with cute fonts. When I was about to go out, I received a text message and opened it to see that Lucien sent a strange address.

MC: ?

Is this a mistake? I dialed Lucien’s phone doubtfully.

Lucien: Did you receive the address?

MC: Um, where is this?

Lucien: This is where I am now. I guessed that you would come to me for lunch.

MC: ???

MC: How did you know?

Lucien: Because… black pepper beef tenderloin, sweet and sour short ribs, and boiled cabbage heart.

MC: ...Lucien! Are you studying mind reading for your new project at the institute?

His shallow laughter came from the earpiece.

Lucien: The project sounds very interesting, but you seem to forget that my research field is brain science. If you want to know the answer, you can open the photo album now.

I hung up the call, opened my phone’s photo album, and a buffering icon appeared in the middle of the screen. After a few seconds, my photo album automatically updated a piece. I have never seen the picture before.

The photo shows an exclusive courtyard with a wooden log door frame and red brick wall, and a row of old-fashioned labour utensils are displayed at the foot of the wall. In the middle of the yard is a 28-brand bicycle, its style reminiscent of the 1970s.

And under the light of the noon sun, reflected on the wall is the shadow of a person. I recognise it almost at a glance as Lucien.

“Ding” my phone has received a text message.

Lucien: Do you know the answer now?

After Lucien’s reminder, I finally realised. Last week, there was a problem with my phone and I needed to use another cloud account for verification. So, I used Lucien’s account temporarily, but I must have forgotten to log out. In other words, during this period, our mobile phones were using the same cloud account, so the photo album was also in a shared state.

MC: Yeah…

On my way to the private courtyard with the bento box, I blame my own carelessness in my heart, while repeatedly confirming the appearance of the “inventory” inside the box. Lucien must have seen the recipe that I saved in the photo album, not even the photos taken of the box just now have been spared.

I sighed and knocked on my head a little, then I suddenly realised again. If our mobile phones have been synced for more than a week, that means that all the photos I took during that time…

I quickly send a text message to Lucien.

MC: Lucien, have you seen anything else in the album? What photos?

Lucien: For example?

MC: For example, something that impresses you…

Lucien: Are you saying that this subject is my photo?

My fingers flicked subconsciously as Lucien’s reply appeared on the screen.

Lucien: I forgot to say that next time, you can shoot with more integrity, that way I can cooperate with you on more poses.

He really!!

He often took pictures of himself reading books or doing experiments, but he didn’t take any others! This cunning man!

(translator’s note: the original translation refers to him as “a lion man”, basically saying that he’s sly and superior.)

When I arrived at the lane where the courtyard was located, I saw Lucien from a distance standing and waiting for me. I hurriedly raised my hand to him.

MC: Lucien, is your research tricky? Have you set aside the time to eat?

Lucien took the bento in my hand and looked at me with happy but tired eyes.

Lucien: It’s not too tricky. As for having good meals… if the standard is this bento, then i really can’t call any of them good meals.

He took my hand and leads me through the door. When I stand in the courtyard, the sense of precipitation of the years becomes stronger.

MC: How can you be in this place? Is it related to research?

Lucien: Well, this research project will conduct clinical trials here.

MC: This is actually a new research base?

Lucien: To be precise, it’s a temporary research base.

MC: What about the other people of the research institute?

Lucien: The study will officially start tomorrow, and today we gave them the day off.

MC: It turned out to be so, but how could the research base be chosen in a yard with such a sense of age?

Lucien didn’t answer. He took me to sit down at the square table in the courtyard.

Lucien: Based on the understanding of ___, I answered your question, but after that, your curiosity will only grow more questions. So, before this, let’s eat first. I’ll give you a good tour after we eat.

After supervising Lucien eating the lunch, he took me by the hand and walked into the second part of the courtyard. The style of the building is consistent with the courtyard, even more so seeing the rest of the architecture.

The dark grey rough floor exudes a faint smell of cement, and the green leather wall is painted with the four red characters “hard work”. The three classic furniture pieces restore the old texture and the rest of the daily necessities present also exude a strong sense of age.

Lucien: How do you feel?

MC: Although I obviously haven’t experienced this era, it seems as if i’ve really returned to the past.

Lucien: The research team here has spent a lot of time restoring it to seem like the 70s.

MC: I’m even more curious now that you mention it. What kind of research is it that you need to have a venue like this?

Lucien: It’s a study on the healthy brain of the elderly. For people with Alzheimer’s disease, or elderly with hidden risks of clinical depression.

MC: I’ve heard that there’s no effective treatment or medicine for these conditions, is that true?

Lucien: Well, Alzheimer’s disease can be said to be a serious challenge facing modern brain science research. Even this research can only focus on early intervention before illness, while observing the quantity and quality of brain cells.

MC: So, why do you want to restore this place to the 70s specifically?

Lucien: The brain of elderly people is often in a state of stagnation, so the brain will easily degenerate. The most memorable experiences of the elderly staying here are concentrated in the seventies, which is the most meaningful time of their lives.

Lucien: Putting them in a familiar environment to stimulate the brain is the basis of this research project.

MC: use memories to wake up the brain and prevent them from succumbing to sickness… that’s it. It would be nice if more people could know this method.

I looked around, and suddenly had a flash of inspiration.

MC: Lucien! Can I use my camera to record this research? This might attract more investors.

Lucien didn’t speak, he looked at me a little bit more and then smiled. Realising my offer was a bit abrupt, I quickly tried to change the topic.

MC: Though, it doesn’t matter if I can’t shoot. After all, this involves the confidentiality of research. But, if our memories can be recorded, this way, when we’re old, we’ll have more memories to look back on in these cases.

He remained silent, but the smile on his face was deeper.

MC: What happened? Did I say something wrong?

Lucien: No, if you want to shoot, I can ask the patient’s families for their opinions. But, I think they will agree, because what you want to do is also a very meaningful thing.

MC: I thought you would think that my idea was too bad to consider…

Lucien: I’m just happy. It turns out that you’ve already planned so far for our future.

After going through the entire building, Lucien took me to the backyard again. In the centre of the yard was a dense wisteria tree. There was a breeze in this early autumn afternoon, and the sun above also swept away most of the hot temperature.

The backyard shrouded by the wisteria flowers was concealed by a shady and drooping branch, swaying leisurely in the air but looking very comfortable. Obviously, it’s my first time coming here, but I feel a familiar sense of deja vu.

Lucien: What do you think?

MC: It feels weird to say it, but just for a moment, I felt that this scene was familiar.

Lucien followed my line of sight and looked at the branch of wisteria.

Lucien: On a scientific level, you must have visual experience. But I have a more romantic explanation. It may be that our souls snuck out in a dream, and then we met in a yard in the seventies.

He turned to look at me, his dark eyes deep like an exquisite pool of water.

Lucien: Maybe they were there and had a stable and slow life.

His voice is calm and determined, and his words fell to the bottom of my heart.

MC: Lu-Lucien, you’re seriously bluffing to me again…

Lucien didn’t seem to care about my disbelief, the pool in his eyes was still flowing with waves.

Lucien: If you don’t believe it, do you want to try it?

MC: What is there to try?

Lucien: Having a slow dream in the courtyard of the seventies.

MC: Like our souls, spend a lifetime in a dream?

Sure enough, I subconsciously believed Lucien’s words, but the initiator only smiled and nodded.

Lucien: “Life” is a subjective word, and how long a life is, is up to you to feel and decide. So as long as you want, we can spend our “life” here.

Maybe I was moved by Lucien’s romantic theory, or because I haven’t seen him for a long time, but either way, I eagerly agreed to his proposal.

MC: Since we’re going to live a slow life in the seventies today, let’s be more involved!

I took out headphones and my mobile phone and placed them on the stone table in the yard.

MC: I’m asking professor Xu to please confiscate these modern contrabands.

Lucien nodded knowingly, and took out his phone as I did.

Lucien: It seems we have to find something to seal them in the “future”. 

As he said this, he found a wooden box and put all of our electronic products inside of it.

Lucien: Welcome to the seventies, silly girl.

--

The weak autumn sunlight in the room shone crookedly through the window like a painting waiting for us. Though, we don’t have the mind to appreciate it, only focusing on living in the slowed down time.

Lucien seems to have come prepared, and the activities proposed were endless. He taught me how to light a kerosene lamp and took me to try an old fashioned sewing machine. We played with fans leisurely together, and listened to the squeaky Suzhou Pingtan on the radio.

(translator’s note: suzhou pingtan is a traditional musical art in china)

Time seems to have really slowed down for us while we do a lot of things, but the sun outside is still mild and bright. After listening to a pingtan, I eagerly looked at Lucien

MC: Lucien, what should we do next?

Lucien: What do you want to do?

MC: May I decide?

Lucien: Well, I also want to know what you think of this slow life.

MC: Well… I can’t think of my answer at the moment.

Lucien: It’s okay, just let the flow happen. Rather than using your brain to think about what you want, it’s better to leave the feelings to your heart. This deliberate content doesn’t necessarily conform to the meaning of a slow life. What you feel currently is the most important.

MC: Then… can we sit in the sun longer? Is that too plain?

Lucien: I think it’s a good idea.

After getting Lucien’s affirmative answer, I also dreamed of sitting in the sun with him. Only soon, my beautiful fantasy was disillusioned, because we searched the entire yard and found that there was only one recliner.

Lucien and I stood under the wisteria frame in the backyard, looking at the narrow chair in front of us.

MC: Hey… how about you sit down first? We can take turns.

The moment I blurted it out, I felt like I said something silly again. I blushed and was about to fight for myself further, but he reached out and pulled me into his arms. Before I knew what he was going to do, Lucien grabbed the back of my waist and gently closed the distance, our warm breaths instantly intertwined

Before I could speak under his deep eyes, my centre of gravity suddenly fell and I was in a soft embrace. My eyes moved slightly down, and I found that we were sitting on the recliner at the same time. My legs had encircled his body without me knowing when.

The motion startled the recliner, and it shook slightly. I couldn’t find my balance for a while, and I subconsciously hooked onto Lucien’s neck.

MC: Lu-Lucien?

I struggled to stand up, but Lucien released the hands that were fixed on my waist, and I was forced to tighten my arms around his neck. There was a warm breath stagnated in the air between us. The suffocating sensation reminds me of the air above an asphalt road in the summer.

Lucien: It’s boring to be alone in the sun, I think two people would be better.

MC: There’s nothing boring about being in the sun…

Fearing that I would make him uncomfortable, I lightly held on to prevent myself from slumping into him.

Lucien: You can relax, this chair is enough to hold the weight of both of us.

MC: I-I’m very relaxed.

Lucien:  Are you….

I heard his low and dull voice noise in my ears, and I hung my head even more as my face flushed. He stretched out a hand, pressed the knuckle of his right hand against my chin and gently lifted it up.

In the next second, a gentle and light kiss fell on my lips.

I instinctively closed my eyes and could only hear the beating of my heart in my head. Although it was only a soft kiss like a dragonfly’s, time seemed to slow down. When we finally separated again, it was really as if we had spent a lifetime in that moment.

Lucien: I can be sure that you are really relaxed now.

When I blushed and didn’t know how to react, Lucien’s cell phone began ringing in the wooden box. As if I had caught a life-saving straw, I stood up and started to go into the other room, his laughter coming from behind.

MC: Answer your phone, I’ll be in the bathroom!

Lucien: I know, I’ll finish up soon.

When I came out of the bathroom, Lucien’s call was just ending. He saw me coming and waved his phone apologetically.

Lucien: Sorry, ___. There’s a problem with the preparations of the study at the institute, and I need to return to discuss it with the research team.

MC: It’s ok! I’m very satisfied with your company for the whole afternoon.

After returning everything in the yard to its original position, I reluctantly took Lucien’s arm and prepared to leave with him. After spending almost the whole day with Lucien in the private courtyard, I feel a bit reluctant to give him up here. Perhaps seeing through my mood, Lucien stopped walking.

Lucien: Maybe we can slow down our departure?

Following his gaze, my eyes fell on the bicycle in the middle of the yard, the same one from his earlier picture to me.

MC: You mean, we can ride that?

Lucien: It doesn’t matter, I can find someone to send it back tomorrow.

Lucien stepped forward and patted the horizontal bar in front of the bike.

Lucien: It’s just that this time I still feel wrong, so ___ can sit here.

I couldn’t help but think of our experience of cycling in Canada. At that time, I was anxious to ride the bike, my hands and feet shaky.

(translator’s note: this is a reference to Lucien’s Autumn Date, available in EN)

Lucien: Want to revisit it?

Lucien supported the handlebars and body, his slender and powerful arms firmly supported the bicycle. I nodded and looked at his hand that was supporting the seat.

MC: I won’t be as anxious today as I was that time.

After confirming that I was sitting firmly, Lucien stepped on the pedals. He lifted his hand and wrapped me in his arms, a reassuring temperature stemming from my back.

MC: Because, I hope this road can be longer.

A white crescent moon took over the setting early, and the pink-ish purple sunset was like peach-flavoured candy. In the middle of the modern city, Lucien and I looked extremely out of place with our old-fashioned bicycle, and the angle of the sun stretched our shadows very long.

Our two shadows, they slowly inched towards the next day.

[delyth88]

I haven’t been on Tumblr much the last few weeks for a few reasons.  Partly because I haven’t yet watched any of the What If...? episodes and I didn’t want to see spoilers. Partly because I want to re-watch the Loki series again and see what I think of it after taking a break - the amount of time and energy it took to keep up with an episode a week was surprisingly exhausting!  And I kinda want to give the series the attention it deserves, and I just haven’t had the energy for that.  But mostly it’s because we’re back in lockdown again and that’s challenging in its own way. (Yeah, this is going to be a post about real life and Covid, so if you’re not here for that you probably won’t want to read the rest of this post.)

New Zealand has kept Covid out of the country for most of the last year and a half.  We had one nationwide lockdown in March-June of 2020 and a couple of shorter less intense local lockdowns in our biggest city, Auckland in August last year and again in February this year. But in between it’s been life pretty much as normal, unless you wanted to travel overseas in which case you have to quarantine in the government-run hotels for 14 days on your return for $3000+ and rooms are hard to book because there’s a limited supply.

On Tuesday the week before last someone at work read out an article from the news online in the early afternoon that said not much more than that a case had been detected in Auckland and everyone in Auckland travelling on public transport should make sure they were wearing a mask that afternoon.  More details to come. An hour or so later reports that the Prime Minister was flying back to the capital, Wellington, for a Cabinet meeting at 4.30pm, and we knew it was serious.  They generally only do that if there’s an alert level change coming.  We’d all expected another outbreak at some point, and people were particularly on edge watching the outbreak in New South Wales, Australia, grow beyond their ability to stamp it out. We’d been warned that if an outbreak should happen it would likely mean an immediate move to our highest Alert Level.  So I packed up and went home early, as most people in the office did, as we made a point to say goodbye and wish each other luck. I began packing my suitcase full of everything I could think that I’d need for a month or more and waited till the official announcement at 6pm. We were right - it was Alert Level 4. Alert Level 4 means we all must stay to our household bubbles and no-one except for essential workers can leave for reasons other than to go to the supermarket, the pharmacy, the doctor, or for a vaccine or a Covid test. Or to do a bit of exercise near your home. I live in a small apartment alone and did the last lockdown alone so this time I drove a couple of hours north to stay with my parents for however long it might turn out to be.

The case numbers were a bit of a shock for us. It started with one man who had no known links to the border but quickly grew to 30, 50, 80 people a day.  Now I know that sounds tiny to most people, but we’re a small country, a ”Team of 5 million” TM. And during the first global wave of Covid the highest number of cases a day we peaked at was 89. So this was a bit scary, particularly as we’ve been warned for a while about the high transmissibility of the Delta variant. More worrying still is that the case numbers just kept going up past the point where we were expecting to see a stabilisation.  The thing is, we don’t know if what we did the first time around will work against Delta. We think it might, but we can’t be sure like we have been in previous outbreaks. And unlike other countries where the virus was in the community, we’ve been slower to get and administer vaccines. Bookings were only starting to open up to people outside of the vulnerable categories and border workers a few weeks before this outbreak.  I won’t have my first shot till mid September.

But today we had some good news.  We’ve now had two days of lower case numbers. Yesterday’s were the results from Sunday which traditionally has lower testing rates so we couldn’t read too much into that, but today was lower again at 49 cases. So I feel we can take some heart from that. Though there is still quite a way to go.

Tomorrow most of the country moves down to Alert Level 3, which is pretty much the same as Level 4 but with contactless takeaway food and coffee (I mean it’s more than that, but for the average person those are the main differences). Auckland will stay in Level 4 for another two weeks at least.  So it’s looking like I’ll be staying up here for 6 weeks or so (because inter-regional travel is prohibited until we get to Level 2). I’m lucky because I can do my job from home, but it’s hard to concentrate and I almost wish I couldn’t work from home so I wouldn’t have to deal with the stresses of work as well as lockdown, but I know there are people in much worse situations all over the place so I’m grateful.

The thing that this has really brought home to me is that we’re going to have to have a difficult conversation soon.  One that Australia is having now.  If we want to have higher numbers of people travelling to and from New Zealand we’re going to have to by choice let the virus in.  And this is going to mean that we will lose the sense of normality and safety that we experience on a day to day basis between lockdowns.  And it will mean choosing to allow people to die from this disease, looking at the data from other jurisdictions, even if we reach an incredibly high vaccination rate of over 90%.  I would hate to be the person who has to make a decision like that. I know there are new treatments being developed and a second generation of vaccines that may be more effective, but then the virus is also changing and who knows what the situation will be like at the end of the year. Yay uncertainty. lol

So yeah, that’s where I’m at right now.  

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (5/8)

If you’d like to read on AO3, you may do so here.

October 15, 2018

The leaves were beginning to change outside the window; the maples turning russet, the birch yellow. Scully felt pendulous and gravid, the child in her belly more active than her previous two combined. Sleep was becoming difficult, but by day they’d fallen into a comfortable routine, safe and unmolested from the dangers that were beginning to feel as though they had never existed at all.

She stretched and left Mulder, half his face obscured by his pillow, his lips soft and pliant in sleep. A fresh pot of decaf awaited her in the kitchen, its automatic timer set by Mulder late last night.

The kids were still asleep, as far as she could tell -- she'd heard Lily come home well after midnight. She'd been up reading anyway when her daughter had popped her head into their bedroom door and whispered "I'm home." The girl had been wearing a small smile and Scully recognized the look. Lily was falling in love.

Will shuffled into the kitchen sleepily, a palm rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He approached Scully where she stood at the counter and put an arm around her shoulder, leaning on her. He still smelled like the sleepy little boy who liked to cuddle into her side to watch nature shows when he was six.

"Morning Mom," he said, taking a snuffly breath. He leaned down and rested his cheek against her head (he was almost as tall as Mulder, though still as skinny as a maypole). Scully wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him in closer. Affection from her kids was getting fewer and farther between now that they were active teenagers. She was determined to enjoy whatever she got.

"Morning," she said, giving his back a little rub, "you're up early."

"Yeah," he said on a yawn. "There's an open rink this morning and a couple of buddies are going. Is it okay if I join them?"

Scully nodded. "Just make sure you tell your dad, too. Know the exits before you go and keep an eye on the crowd."

Will squeezed her once and then let go, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter and holding up like James Bond. "Call me Double O Billy," he said and sidled back to his room off of Scully's bemused chuckle.

She spent an hour catching up on email that had been routed through the Gunmen and Darlene -- coded messages that they interpreted and sent to her mother, sister and brothers. Melissa was giving her a hard time about not letting her fly to Europe (where she thought they were) to be her doula when the time came to give birth. She was tempted to send Byers to her sister's house to explain exactly what was happening, but rejected the impulse. Their mother -- the only person other than the Gunmen and the X-Files triumvirate at the FBI who knew their situation (though not their location for her own protection) -- would talk her down eventually.

Mulder came padding up behind her as she closed the laptop and she felt a soft, drawn-out kiss on the side of her neck.

"Morning," he mumbled into her skin.

She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, then turned to receive his kiss.

"Morning," she said.

"I’ll be back shortly. I'm going to drop Billy off at the ice complex and then take Lil to campus -- she suddenly started liking football."

"I think it's the company rather than the sport," Scully said, turning in her chair to face him.

"...I'm going to choose to believe my version," he said.

Scully reached out and linked their fingers briefly. "Tell her to be careful," she said, "she's spending a lot of time out of the house."

Mulder nodded and squeezed her fingers. "I will," he said, "and when I get back, I have a few ideas for how we can spend our child-free afternoon." He waggled his eyebrows at her and let go, backing out of the room like the charmer he was.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“So why UVA?” Travis asked her. He had his head propped up on an elbow and his other hand was wrapped loosely around her foot, his thumb rubbing circles into her arch. She was on the couch in his dorm room and he was on the floor -- she’d been helping him study for mid-terms. They had been officially dating for five weeks and had seen each other at least every other day in that time. He’d introduced her to a couple of friends as his girlfriend.

“What?” she asked. It was hard enough to concentrate while getting a foot massage, and she’d been staring at the index cards in front of her, trying to find a question that would stump him.

“Why are you going to UVA? Brain like yours, you could have gone anywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever asked you why there.”

“Other than the in-state tuition?” She had told him that they’d moved from Virginia, but hadn’t elaborated.

“Other than that,” he smiled.

“I’ve always wanted to. When I was a kid, my dad would occasionally get called in to consult there and he would take me with him. I kinda fell in love with it.”

“What did your dad consult on?” he asked, “You don’t talk about your parents much.”

Travis tapped her other leg, and she switched feet, silencing a groan when his knuckle hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She had purposely avoided mentioning her family much and debated how much was safe to share.

“UVA has a Department of Perceptual Studies,” she said, and she saw him tilt his head in question.

“A department of what?”

“Perceptual studies,” she said, smiling, “it’s a research group devoted to the investigation of phenomena that challenge mainstream scientific paradigms regarding the nature of the mind/brain relationship.” Travis stopped rubbing her foot and looked at her. She went on, further quoting her dad’s friend Dr. Stevenson: “Their mission is the scientific empirical investigation of phenomena that suggest that currently accepted scientific assumptions and theories about the nature of mind or consciousness, and its relation to matter, may be incomplete.”

“You’re shitting me,” he said.

“I shit you not.”

“What kind of phenomena?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She tried not to smile, “ESP, poltergeists, near-death experiences, out-of-body experiences, claimed memories of past lives.”

“And what did they want with your father?” he asked, sitting up.

She shrugged. “He’s a shrink,” she said, being deliberately vague.

“This is an accredited university?” He teased her. She kicked at him, and he ducked out of the way and laughed, then looked at her thoughtfully. “You know, I myself had an out-of-body experience with Trudy Carmichael under the bleachers when I was sixteen. Pretty sure I saw through time.”

Lily chuckled, then playfully challenged: “Do I need to worry about this Trudy Carmichael?”

“I doubt it,” he said, hanging his head, “I lost my virginity, and she lost my number. Not my finest hour.”

“A whole hour?,” Lily said wryly.

“One way to find out.”

He looked at her then and she looked back. The moment was charged and sat in between them. The truth was, Lily was still a virgin. She and Travis had messed around, but fairly innocently, and she’d demurred on action below the waist/under the clothes. “I’m not waiting for marriage,” she’d told him a few weeks back, but she did want to wait for love. If only she knew what that felt like.

“Hey, Frisbee,” Travis said when she didn’t say anything, “please don’t take this as a negotiation tactic -- you’ve been clear on your limits and I totally respect that -- and with the full understanding that you don’t need a reason, and you do you and all that -- but… do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what exactly?” she asked, clarifying.

“When I say ‘no pressure,’ I mean it,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her foot.

Lily looked around his sloppy dorm room. There were clothes strewn about, though mostly out of the way— socks balled up near the laundry hamper, a sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair. The wooden loft that held his bed was posted around the couch, made of flimsy-looking two-by-fours, and did not look like it could hold his weight, much less hers in addition, and remained untried (though Travis swore it had passed inspection). His desk was more fastidiously kept, a reflection of his mind, a structured order in the midst of chaos. He was kind and smart. His smile could make her insides go liquid.

“Honestly?” she finally said, “it’s my parents.”

“Super religious?” he asked.

She had to stop herself from laughing. “No, it’s… My parents love each other. More than anyone I’ve ever known. Their love is like… romance film love. It’s practically written in the stars.”

He looked at her contemplatively. “That’s a lot to live up to,” he said. “Is that what it is?”

“Yes,” she said, then, “no.” It was and it wasn’t. She didn’t know if there was a love out there that could compare, she suspected there wasn’t. Her real hang-up, and she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head since she found her father’s first wedding picture in their attic -- was that her father had obviously made a mistake. What if she did too?

She laughed, annoyed at herself. This wasn’t Regency England. Sex didn’t mean marriage. It didn’t even necessarily mean love. Still...

“Come on,” she said, sitting up and grabbing for his class notes, “this bio exam isn’t going to take itself.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

A sound woke her. Her hips were in agony and sleeping was difficult, so initially she was more annoyed than anything; she could rarely line up more than 90 minutes straight of deep slumber. And then she heard it again.

She reached over, squeezed Mulder's bicep until she heard him sniff sharply awake and silently, pulled out the sidearm she kept inside her bedside table. Mulder, slipping out of bed without a word, pulled out his own gun and went to the door. He held up a hand, trying to tell Scully to stay back, but she shook her head angrily -- she would have his back whether he liked it or not.

When he moved into the hallway, she stepped on the back of his heel and he ended up ramming his shoulder into the doorframe. He swore low under his breath. They were out of sync.

She watched as he put his head into the kids rooms as he made his way down the hallway, nodding at her that they were both accounted for. One more thunk from the living room.

He sidled up to the wall that led to the room and backed up against it. He mouthed one-two-three and they went in, but where she usually went low and he went high, this time they rammed shoulders and stumbled into the room. Mulder flicked on the light when she finally had her weapon aimed true.

There, sitting on a high bookshelf sat Apgar, her black tail swishing merrily. Maintaining eye contact, she swiped one more of the professor's knick-knacks off the shelf and onto the floor.

Mulder dropped his weapon and heaved a sigh, tipping his head back in frustration. "Fucking cat," he hissed.

Mission completed, Apgar jumped down with a thump and weaved a figure eight between Mulder's legs.

"She must be hungry," Scully said.

"Hangry was invented by cats," Mulder mumbled, reaching down to pet the cat with his free hand.

"Our tactical coordination was atrocious," Scully said, flicking the light back off and holding her gun at her hip.

"Yes," Mulder agreed.

"When was the last time you went to the range?" she asked.

"It's been months," he said tiredly.

"We're going tomorrow," Scully said. Mulder knew better than to argue.

XxX

There were more than a few Molon Labe bumper stickers in the parking lot. Scully had to remind herself that they were in Michigan Militia territory. "Michitucky," she'd heard it called by a few guys at the Bureau. Nevertheless, she pulled up to the firing range with fire in her blood. She might not share their politics, but she would share their space, and show most of them up to boot.

They signed in and bought ammunition. She got a few extra looks for being a visibly pregnant woman, but most of the men (and they were all men) who were at the range gave her begrudging looks of approval. Mulder stood, standing straighter and closer than normal, practically growling at anyone who got too close. She had to admit that his fierce protective nature was more than a turn-on.

The range was outdoors -- different than what they were used to at Quantico. And where there were metal tables and dividers and state of the art equipment at the government facility, here it was all beat-to-shit plywood tables and sunburnt grass littered with shell casings and old ear plugs. They took the lane at the end.

They both loaded and checked their weapons, snugged earmuffs over their heads.

"You want to go first?" Mulder asked, double checking the safety on his pistol and setting it on the table behind their station.

"I can do that," Scully said, looking down at her Sig.

"Care for a little wager?" her husband asked.

"You can't afford me, Dr. Mulder," she said, admiring the still-lanky line of his physique.

He raised his eyebrows, and leaned back against the tall wobbly table. "Oh-ho," he said, "I suppose that depends on the currency." He had a smug look about him that she wanted to wipe off his face. She was a better marksman and more competitive than anyone gave her credit for.

"What are you offering?" she asked.

"Dishes?" he offered, "Laundry?"

"We had children for the menial labor," she challenged, "I can win this with one hand tied behind my back. Make it interesting for me."

He licked his lips. She had him.

"I liked the part about 'hands behind the back,'" he said, "Winner decides who wears the handcuffs."

"You're not exactly incentivizing this, Mulder."

He had a flushed look about him; his nostrils flared.

"Prove it," he said, and she felt a flush. Second trimester hormones could be a beautiful thing, she mused.

It took her several rounds before she got back into the groove. It actually had been too long since she'd practiced and she was rusty. Considering their current situation, she ought not to let it happen again. Her last few rounds were dead center. Once her clip was empty, she cleared her weapon and stepped back.

Mulder's turn.

He wasn't quite as out of practice as she was initially, which irritated her to no end. However, his fourth and fifth shots were a bit wide, and he ended around the edges.

When he was clear, she stepped back up and took a bracing breath. She raised her weapon and fired rapidly; all her shots were center mass except the last two, which she swung up and finished with perfect shots to the head of the paper dummy.

When Mulder stepped forward for his turn, she nudged him.

"How big would you say the back of the Yukon is?'" she asked casually.

His first three shots went wide.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 17, 2018

“Mom?” Lily asked. There was a hesitancy in her voice that made Scully look up from where she was chopping vegetables for dinner. “How did you know you loved Dad?”

Scully set the knife down and turned toward her daughter. “That’s a big question, Lil.”

“What’s a big question?” Mulder came breezing into the kitchen, shooting Scully an intrigued look.

Scully suspected something was up, but didn’t want to embarrass their daughter. Lily had always had an inquisitive streak and would occasionally come to Scully with problems or questions, but she was apt to clam up when pressed.

“Lily was asking me about how I fell in love with you,” Scully said, trying to catch Mulder’s eye.

“It was the day she met me, no doubt,” Mulder said. He grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and shined it on his sleeve before taking a snappy bite. “I’m catnip to the ladies,” he said around the mouthful. Lily smiled. Scully rolled her eyes.  

“Suddenly, I’m struggling to remember,” Scully said with mock derision. Mulder gave her a cheeky grin.

“Did you know right away?” Lily asked.

Scully paused. “Not… Not right away,” she said thoughtfully.

Lily looked back and forth between her parents. “I guess it was a long time ago, huh.”

“Love in a time of sarsaparilla,” Mulder said dreamily. Scully shook her head and he caught her eye. “It wasn’t that long ago, Lil,“ he went on, and Scully felt the low bloom of feeling that always accompanied a look from her husband. For as long as she lived, she would always remember the first time she felt it; on the Tooms case, when he’d hooked his finger in her necklace and pulled.

“No, what I mean is… it was complicated,” Scully clarified.

Lily nodded and turned to her father. “You were married. Before Mom.”

“Yes,” Mulder said.

“Did you love her? Your ex wife?”

“I thought I did.”

“When did you figure out that you didn’t?” Lily asked.

“When I met your Mom,” Mulder said.

“So what you felt with Mom…”

“... was so much bigger than I was, that I couldn’t contain it.”

Scully felt her eyes well up. Mulder still sometimes had the ability to make her feel things all the way down to her toes.

Lily smiled, but looked pensive.

"But you thought you loved this other woman? I mean, enough to marry her?" she asked.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "What are you asking, Lil?"

Lily shook her head, her cheeks pink. She grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked out of the room.

“Oh boy,” said Scully.

“What?” Mulder asked.

“Travis,” said Scully. “She’s trying to figure it all out.”

“Jesus, he didn’t propose, did he?” Mulder asked. The look on his face was enough to make her laugh, but she held it in.

Scully turned fully to Mulder and leaned back against the countertop, crossing her arms in front of her.

“You want to know what I think?” she asked. Mulder nodded. “She’s trying to decide whether or when to...” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

Mulder looked at her, still not understanding. Scully gave him the stare of the dotard husband.

“Mulder…” she said, glaring hard.

Realization dawned and Mulder swallowed. “I should have had that boy killed,” he said.

Scully turned back to the vegetables she’d been chopping. “Let’s refrain from wetwork while we’re on the lam.”

“I make no promises,” he said, and slid up behind her, stepping in close and putting his hands on her waist.  

“I had the guys check him out by way of Darlene,” Scully said. “He is who he says he is. And he seems like a decent kid. Let’s let her navigate this on her own, huh?” She felt his fingers squeeze and then they drifted down to rest on her hips.

“I don’t like it,” he mumbled, and leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to,” she said. “But you do have to accept it, and trust that we raised her to make these decisions for herself.”  She remembered being nineteen and in college and in love for the first time. “You want to hear about Kevin McAvoy, my freshman year boyfriend?”

Mulder squeezed his fingers again and then started to turn her slowly toward him. She set down the knife on the counter and let him. His head was bent toward her and she felt his breath fan her face.

“No,” he said, leaning even more into her personal space.

“I was his Little Red Corvette,” she said playfully, tipping her head back in challenge. He smiled, but she saw something rough pass through his eyes. “He’d put on Prince and --”

Mulder leaned down and silenced her with a kiss.

XxXxXxXxXxX

In her room, Lily sat on the bed, the can of soda from the fridge sitting unopened on her bedside table. Condensation beaded on the side of it, sliding down silently to pool at the base, unnoticed.

Crusher liked to sleep on her pillow, and had left a black felted indent in the feathers, which Lily brushed away and fluffed. She looked about the room. Not much about it spoke of the young woman who slept there and had for months; no posters on the walls, no pennants hanging or pictures of friends. It was a sterile guest room decorated with the mute tones of an unmarried 60-something and lately it had been making her feel like she wasn't even herself.

She stood and walked to the desk, the one place she deposited her things. Her wallet, the phone Darlene had given her that she rarely used and usually kept switched off. Her purse was half hanging off -- likely knocked into such a position by a passing cat -- and when she righted it, she noticed the picture that sat under it. The photo of her father and an unfamiliar brunette, who's face conveyed confidence -- almost a smugness -- and a certain charm.

She stared at the picture. And she wondered.

XxX

October 20, 2018

Lily glanced over her shoulder when she sat, feeling as though she were doing something illegal, something fraught.

No one really used the computer labs anymore -- if you needed to, you could write an entire paper on your phone, though Lily found the practice ridiculous and immature. Nevertheless, there were one or two students sitting at the various desktops around the small library lab, and she checked to make sure no one was paying attention to what she was doing.

She tried to be careful. She had told Travis that she was hoping to log into the university's network to prep for some of the classes she’d be taking at UVA next semester and so she was using his password and login information. She'd checked to make sure there were no cameras on the area where she sat, and that her back was to the one aimed at the larger area.

With a bracing breath, she logged on.

It was surprising what you could find with a simple Google search, and the commonwealth of Virginia's vital records office would send you a copy of any marriage certificate for a fee of $45. Knowing better than to use a credit card, she'd opted for a more in depth search, and found what she was looking for in the Daily Press -- the local newspaper of record in Newport News, Virginia.

It was a wedding announcement, complete with two pictures -- one, the same picture she'd found in her parent's attic and the other of a similar style -- of Fox William Mulder and Lauren Edith Williams, married on August 17th, 1988. According to the article, Lauren had been a recent graduate of Georgetown University and had been employed at Schuster and McClure, a PR firm in the District of Columbia.

Lily looked at the new photograph on the screen before her. Her father looked so young. Only a few years older than herself. Lauren was pretty, had perfect posture, and was staring into the camera like a dare; her dress was all frills and white froth, the material of the dress ruched in large poofs at the shoulders, a crown of satin flowers around the lush brunette curls on her head. She looked like someone Lily wouldn't have dared talk to back in high school. She looked nothing like Lily's mother.

Lauren Edith Williams, she wrote down, and stared at the paper in front of her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

October 21, 2018

Lily was on the bus when she noticed him. It was his age that first drew her attention. Most everyone that rode this route (it went right into campus) was either a student or a professor, and something about him seemed the antithesis of scholarly. He had a sharp face, was dressed in loose clothing, a plain, black ball cap pulled low over his head. His knee bounced where he sat. She thought she could make out a tattoo curling onto the skin under the sleeve of his jacket. He could have been custodial staff for all she knew, but her parents had raised her to trust her instincts, and something inside of her pinged.

He hadn’t so much as looked in her direction, but she reached up and pulled the cord that requested a stop anyway, keeping him in her periphery when the bus rolled to the next stop. She was five blocks further away than she would have liked -- she was supposed to meet Travis just off campus for lunch. The man didn't move or rise from his seat. Nevertheless, she ducked out of the back door and onto the sidewalk, shouldering her purse and pretending to look at her phone. Only when the bus left with the man still on it would she exhale. The bus had just started to roll forward when it chirped to a stop and the front doors opened. The man in the cap trotted down the steps and onto the sidewalk, glancing briefly at her before turning and walking slowly west. Adrenaline awash in her bloodstream, she turned east.

The man had had a nondescript face. He was of average height and build, not someone you'd notice. She wracked her brain trying to remember when or if she'd seen him before, and had a hazy recollection of someone who might have been him: waiting outside of Travis's dorm when she'd come to visit him a couple days prior, or maybe even standing behind her in line at a coffee shop the day before. She should have been paying closer attention. Her parents had taught her to pay closer attention. Up until she'd done a search on her father and his ex-wife, she had. Lily silently cursed at herself.

She looked at her reflection in the shop windows along Grand River Avenue, trying to catch a glimpse behind her. She caught movement, but there were plenty of other people walking up and down the sidewalk. She needed a better look.

She swung up the stairs of the Student Union when she came to it a moment later, remembering walking in with her brother and dad only the month before, and felt the sharp pang of guilt.

When she reached the top of the staircase, she stopped to retie her shoe, glancing back behind her as she did so. The man in the cap was there, and had paused a ways away, looking down at his phone. Lily finished fiddling with her shoe and casually walked to the door, holding it open for a girl who was coming out, her heart hammering in her chest as she did so. Through the large doorway was a wide set of stairs going both up and down. When the door closed behind her, she bolted down the stairs to her right. There were a number of study spaces and she could pass through each one fairly quickly -- the day was busy and there were students everywhere; if she was lucky she could get lost in the crowd.

She ducked through the main lounge and past the small coffee shop on the lower level, looking behind her. She saw nothing, but that didn't mean he still wasn't coming. Seeing the full racks of clothing in the Spirit Shop across the hallway, she went inside, bending down to pretend to look at a few items on the bottom shelf.

Peering through underneath the hanging shirts, she watched as the man in the black cap came down the hallway outside of the shop and paused, turning toward it. Her heart leapt to her throat. He did a slow turn and then turned to keep walking. She kept her head down.

From the corner of her eye she caught her own reflection in the mirror outside the tiny dressing room -- she was wearing a bright blue shirt and her hair -- as bright and reflective as a stop sign, and always a part of herself she was fond of -- would give her away.

She stood, scanning the hallway outside the shop, and then she hastily pulled a green knit cap off a nearby shelf and pulled the tag off, shoving it over her head and tucking her hair up under it as quickly as she could. She grabbed a large tee shirt off the rack nearest her and took it plus the hat's tag to the counter, pulling some cash that her parents always had her carry out and plunking it on the counter.

"I don't need a receipt, thanks," she told the young woman helping her, and turned away.

"But what about your change?" the girl called after her.

"Tip jar," she said, turning back and keeping her voice low.

Once outside the store, she pulled the tee shirt over her head and made her way for the lower level exit that emptied onto campus. Seeing no one behind her, she took the steps out as fast as they would carry her and ran.

XxX

Darlene narrowed her eyes at Lily, and opened the door. “Quickly,” she said.

“Thanks,” Lily said, as Darlene let her into the house, peering around the block. “I didn’t want to use the phone.”

“I get it,” Darlene replied as she ushered Lily into her kitchen, where Lily sank onto one of the stools that sat before the peninsula of the counter.

"You want a lemonade or something, kiddo?" Darlene asked, leaning forward against the counter herself and giving Lily an expectant look -- there was more to it than just polite hospitality.

"No, thanks," Lily said, feeling the weight of Darlene's gaze and her own guilt in equal measure.

"Did you do something stupid?" Darlene asked outright and Lily, taken aback, sat up straighter, but didn't answer, thus confirming Darlene's clear suspicion. "How bad?"

"I think they found us."

Darlene huffed a breath. "Elaborate," she said.

"I... I ran a search. A couple days ago, in the university library. I was careful, but maybe not careful enough."

"What did you search?"

"My dad's ex-wife."

Darlene gave a low whistle. "Kiddo," she said, a statement.

"I know."

"Have you considered just asking him about her?"

Lily hugged herself.

"I have. I did. But… I wanted to know. For me. I don't want his version of this woman. I wanted to see for myself who she was. Is."

Darlene moved to the window and peered out, lowering the blinds as she did so. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Lily once again felt a pang of guilt. She looked down. "Not really."

Darlene moved around the counter to a sideboard table on the dining room side of the counter and began shuffling through a drawer.

"What makes you think they found you?" she asked.

"I think there's someone following me," Lily said, "I think maybe I’ve seen him a couple of times on campus, but I don’t know. I lost him and came here."

"Just one someone?"

Lily began to second guess herself.

"I think so?"

When Darlene straightened from the sideboard she was holding a pistol.

"Call your father right now, and tell him to get over here. Armed." Darlene's words were cold and calm. Lily's stomach dropped in her gut.

She reached for Darlene's phone, a relic from another time which hung on the wall, its cord coiled like a snake.

Darlene walked to the sliding glass door as she dialed the numbers, each tone sounding long and drawn out, Darlene pulled the long curtains closed with a snap.

"Dad?" Lily said, when Mulder answered.

"Hey Lil!" he sounded so relaxed, excited just to talk to her though he'd seen her that morning.

"Dad, I'm at Darlene's. She says to get over here. She said to bring your gun."

She heard his sharp inhale. “I’m coming,” he said, and then she heard a dial tone.

"Lily," said Darlene, walking over to her computer, which was booted up and sitting on her dining room table, cords snaking out of it and across the floor. She quickly typed hunt-and-peck with her right hand, the gun still clutched in her left. "I want you to go into the top right drawer in my dresser. In a small lockbox, code 9-10-9-3, you'll find an old Nokia phone. It should be fully charged. It’s untraceable. Do not turn it on. Take it. Put it somewhere safe -- your bra or your sock or underwear. Then get under my bed."

Lily walked to the hallway, her body on autopilot, her heart hammering and her blood roaring in her veins.

Darlene finished typing, clicked a few things with her mouse and then peeked an eye out the closed curtain toward the backyard, tapping the gun against the side of her thigh.

Pausing in the hallway, Lily turned back to Darlene.

"Is someone coming?" Lily asked.

"Kid," Darlene said, shooting her a look, "they're already here."

[afoolandathief]

Okay, I'm going to give @blindthewind's Underwing Challenge a try!

I'm a day late on this because I tend to procrastinate and occasionally get anxiety when I take a stab at social interactions, but I connected with a lot of neat writing blogs when I did the chazzawrites challenge, and I like the concept Minty came up with for the Underwing Challenge.

1. Let’s start with the basics. Introduce yourself and your blog! What genres do you like to read, and which ones do you like to write? Give us a few facts about yourself too!

Call me R, or whatever you'd like; I use she/her pronouns. I'm a 26-year-old reporter from the Northeast U.S. who started writing fiction as a kid and finally got back into it last year. I started this blog last fall mainly to post about my main WIP.

I tend to read science fiction and fantasy — especially fantasy. For a while, I was struggling to find the time and energy to read. Then, while laid up from my second covid shot a few weeks back, I started reading at a similar rate as my middle-school self. I most recently read:

@b-a-pigeon's novella "Worm in a Jar." I loved Worm! I mostly just wanted to read more about them. Also, I need to figure out how B captured the sensation of biking through a small town on an early fall day, and if the ice cream shop is based on a real place. Next on the list is their novel "Mirrored in Evergreen";

Leigh Bardugo's Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom (I identified most with Jesper, because he's bi, likely has ADHD and is in love with a ginger-haired boy who's good with his hands); and

C.M. Waggoner's "Unnatural Magic" and "The Ruthless Lady's Guide to Wizardry." Waggoner does an amazing job of world-building, including creating a unique magic system and introducing queer characters within a world that allows them to be queer. I feel like her works don't get enough hype.

My main WIP is urban fantasy, and I tend to write fantasy set in the "real world" (I love mixing the real and imaginary; but it's also probably because I don't have the capacity to create entire worlds with my words the way some of you can).

Some other facts about me — like I said, I'm a reporter. I am technically still a crime reporter, but I've also recently been assigned to trending and breaking news. It meshes well with my workflow (put me in front of a burning building in a rainstorm and tell me to write 1,000 words and put out 7 tweets within the hour using my phone as a WiFi hotpot, and I'm happy; tell me to write 300 words within a week and I'll procrastinate until half an hour before it's due). But I miss my watchdog pieces, even if they were more of a struggle to work on.

I used to have cats, but don't have any pets, currently — but I love any and all animals. I don't consider myself a runner, but I do also run. That's the most hobbies my job and concentration will allow, at the moment.

I will hopefully post Day 2, soon. I tend to do things in a burst of energy and then go hide in a hole, so it's likely I'll be scheduling several of these posts ahead of time.

[vintage-brass-tc]

4/10/2021

(( Brace yourselves for a long post. 👁 ))

I’m not sure if I gave any more context of this event either, but, last week, I and around 1-2 people from each section were invited by the directors to go help out with something in preparation for next year.

To summarize it briefly, the incoming band students would be trying out some instruments today. Due to COVID restrictions, they couldn’t play the instrument (much) and actually try it out like the usual process. The older band kids given the option to volunteer were going to be the lead examples of what an instrument sounds like.

This means they’d play for people who were interested in hearing them/trying out our instrument. In addition, we also helped make sure the crowd was settled in nicely when we weren’t occupied with said playing.

Of course, I agreed to come right away. Who would turn down a chance to hang out around their TC (ahem, and the band 😳) for a little while?

People could choose to be there for around half of the event— three hours and thirty minutes, give or take— or remain there throughout the full seven-hour duration of work.

I think you know what I’m going to say now, right? Yeah. I chose to stay and pitch in for the whole time. Needless to say, I’m pretty worn out from it all.

(Believe it or not, I practically passed out right after I wrote the previous sentence. Haha, whoops. Hello from the next day!)

Anywho, with all of the background information out of the way, let’s move on to the actual event!!

||||||||||||||||||||||||

I arrived pretty early and assisted the band directors with their setup in the school’s cafeteria. W and I didn’t talk or make eye contact very much, but that was because we were scrambling to get things like the instruments, hand sanitizer stations, music stands, etcetera prepared.

I noticed that M’s wife and daughter, who’s in my band, were here to help all day as well. It was nice to coexist and talk a little with those who M loves and adores.

From what I remember, the first time W spoke within earshot of me was when everyone was given the incentive to warm up on their instruments in the band hall.

He made a stupid joke that I don’t quite remember, but I and some others found it pretty funny. As always, he never failed to lift the room’s spirits, or at the very least my own. If what he said wasn’t enough to keep me going, the smile on his face before he left was adorable as well.

~~

Fast forward to some time later, when I was mingling with other band kids. I thought it’d be fun to join in the frenzy of various pieces being played simultaneously, but I didn’t want to move away from the group to sit down. I thought it would be pretty awkward.

After being sure I wasn’t going to cause any major damage to myself or my instrument, I challenged myself to attempt playing some music on my concert tuba while standing up. I didn’t do this often, so I thought it’d be a fun time to try.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, just as I lifted the tuba upwards, I noticed something in the eastern corner of my gaze; A pair of eyes I knew all too well were already placed on me before I had even begun getting set. My gaze flickered in the observer’s direction for less than a second.

To my surprise, since nobody was talking to him, W decided to focus on me. He was leaning forward on the table he was sat at, with his chin cupped comfortably by his right hand. He watched me with pure curiosity and interest.

I did my best not to look at him outside of my peripheral vision after that to avoid potentially interrupting his thoughts. I also didn’t want to mess up whatever music I had out either since he was listening in on it.

He observed me with this same look on his face until he shot up in his seat and looked forward. I assume there was a person who was approaching him.

Can’t help but wonder why he decided to look at me...and how long he would have been tuning into my mediocre tuba skills if someone hadn’t walked over.

~~

A student was interested in hearing me play the tuba, so I did just that. I believe I played around 6-8 measures of my solo. Despite some minor blips due to a sticking valve, I guess I did pretty decent.

I smiled sheepishly and set my tuba down after my mini performance. A subtle applause rose from the kid’s family, accompanied by a louder clapping to the right of me, which I didn’t quite acknowledge until a voice spoke up.

“Thanks Dad!!” W spoke in a slightly condescending tone while grinning from ear to ear. The sound of his loud voice startled me and I zipped my head over to him. “Wha(ha)t?” I spoke in between some surprised chuckles.

“Your Dad’s clapping...like—” He mimicked a very enthusiastic and very expressive clap for a moment before slapping his knees, leaning forward, and letting out one of his signature loud, giggly laughs. I looked at my father and we laughed along with W for a few seconds more.

After writing this, I’m just now realizing that W must have been paying pretty good attention to me and the situation I was in. I would have never noticed this if he hadn’t spoke up. Wow, haha, that’s pretty cool! (My father decided a volunteer here for a little while in case some people were curious. ^^)

~~

Not as much people wanted to hear the tuba as I thought, so I had some free time on my hands. We were told that we could no longer play out of turn since we were being too loud, so I decided to try to talk to W a little bit while I still could. I watched as he wished the last person currently in line a good day, then I began to walk over to him. As I made my way closer, he lifted his head pretty quickly, and his concentration locked on me. Judging by his serious expression, he may have thought I had an important question to ask him. That threw me off a little bit, and I got nervous.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Uh,” I started, “How‘s the thing going?” By ‘the thing’, I was referring to his job of checking people out of the school. I internally facepalmed at my phrasing.

“Good!” He turned to his computer and hesitated. “Actually, I have a favor to ask you..” I watched as he slouched down a little bit on the desk before popping back up to look at me.

W asked me if I could go ahead and get the directors’ lunch out before the kids got theirs, just in case it all ran out quickly. He then counted the directors for me and forgot to include himself, which we laughed together at after I pointed it out. I went to go grab the packages after the conversation ended.

The whole way to the band hall, where everything was located, I swam through my thoughts. I was grateful that he thought I was good enough to be trusted with keeping track of who got what, food-wise. I’m glad I could help him with that.

After a bit of explaining to some of the students why I was handling the food before lunch and taking multiple portions of it, I was off and giving everything out to the directors. M’s wife already went to get her own food somehow, and she seemed a little bit agitated when I asked if she already got her stuff.

I mean, I’d be pretty mad if someone interrupting my blissful munching moments too, so no shame there. I wonder if M messes with her while she eats sometimes. It seems like something he may do when he’s bored. Haha.

Anyway, I approached W with his stuff, but he was talking to someone, so I slowly came to a stop and just....stood there. Luckily, the guy mentioned I had W’s food, so he looked over. “Thanks R,” he smiled. “Is that all?” He looked at what remained in the bag. “Yep.” I told him that M’s wife had already gotten her stuff beforehand, and he nodded.

After I handed the items to him, he thanked me again. I acknowledged his thanks with a smile before letting him continue talking. A few minutes later, he began to eat.

Can I just point out that the way he eats is so...amusing? It’s like he pays no attention to those around him, instead focusing on engulfing the food in front of him with huge bites at a time. He leaves a mess too while doing this sometimes.

While he’s nomming the stuff down, he uses that time to scan the room with curious eyes. I assume it’s to see if anyone was looking at his Jurassic munching techniques.

Call me weird, but it was all so cute in a way. I had a very tough time directing my eyes off of him at first, but I forced myself to. He was looking near my direction anyway, and I didn’t want him to be like ‘??? R, why are you watching me eat?’. 😳 so yeah

~~

About an hour or so after this lunch incident, I was talking to M’s daughter and someone else. We were chatting casually about something related to our instruments. I just started getting into the conversation when I heard a loud voice call out my name.

“R.” W called from behind me. I perked up, shocked, and stopped talking as soon as his voice rang in my ears. The two people I was speaking to looked in his direction and I followed suit with their action, twisting my body backwards as quick as possible. “Come here.”

He stood there very still, facing me with a serious expression, and I was quite intimidated by this. There was nobody inside a 7-foot radius of him, which further intensified the situation for me. Within another heartbeat, butterflies were swirling in my stomach. I turned back to the two girls and apologized before walking over to see what was up.

I stopped just shy of an arm’s length away from him and met his strong gaze with a face that silently urged him to go on. “I’m going to go to the restroom,” he told me, dipping his upper torso and head down to make his look appear more firm. I responded by lifting my chin up and looking down at him with the same amount of seriousness.

“I need you to stay here and watch. If anyone comes, tell them to wait for me, okay?” He had a hint of a pleading tone in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. “Got it.” I told him. “Sorry!!” He exclaimed in a high-pitched whisper to me as he ran off to the other room. “Not a problem!” I yelled back.

I watched him dash out of the cafeteria doors and halt to a walking pace while he exchanged a couple words with the check-in volunteers. I stopped watching him when he began to walk towards the males’ bathroom again.

I was, again, honored that W trusted me enough to handle something like that. Even if it was a small task like the one he asked from me earlier on, he could have had anyone else do it, but he decided I was reliable enough to. I thought that was pretty cool.

Anyway, I stood there for a bit and noticed a phone faced down on the table. I assumed immediately that it was his, and I observed its beautiful casing. It was decorated with a light gray and white array of lines that sort of gave me a forest vibe.

I never expected something as toned down and serene as this was from him, especially with his crazy energetic attitude I know him from, but it was a very nice sight. I didn’t stare at his phone any further in case anyone thought I was going to snoop or something weird like that.

A family came up and I told them that W would be back in a bit. We chatted for a little while about some band-related stuff until W speed-walked back in. I ended our conversation abruptly before looking at him.

“Thank you so much for your help, R.” He told me sincerely while I stepped out of his way. I didn’t pay attention in the moment to how close we were, but it was definitely very close, somehow still barely avoiding contact. “Sure!” I beamed joyously as my gaze lingered.

“Your phone was going off for twenty minutes,” he told me before he sat back down in his chair. My face widened. “I was??” I paused. “I mean, it was??” He didn’t respond to my slightly panicking tone. Instead, he sat still where he was silently, staring at the person I was just talking to.

“Sorry,” I lightly apologized before heading back to where I had my stuff set up. I checked my notifications didn’t see anything new, so I was pretty confused. Maybe he was trying to get me to go away or something, hence the effort on his face to not respond. 😳

~~

The last thing here was just me wishing him a good weekend, and him saying “thank you for helping“, with me thanking him back afterwards.

Overall, this day was great. My arms are so sore from hauling the extra instrument cases around(the tuba cases for newcomers are unbelievably heavier than my current one), but the moments I shared with W and the band made it so worth it. ^^

Hope everyone’s having a great weekend and staying safe.

[ambersky0319]

You’re Something Else

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

I’m gonna hope I can post this daily- or near daily, at least!

Prompt: Medieval Demus fanfic? Remus and Roman are both princes and with Roman set to inherit the throne their parents desperately want to see Remus married off, however Remus has the tendency to be picky with potential suitors and has turned them all down thus far. That is until Remus’ newest suitor turns out to be Prince Janus. At first Remus is difficult with him as he is with all his suitors but than Janus starts winning him over slowly. Janus also knows sorcery in this.

Overall Story Warnings: Blood and injuries(varies throughout story), kind of a terrible father, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Masterpost 

———————–

Remus over the course of the next week tried to get Janus annoyed, disgust him, to make him leave early. But nothing he did seemed to work. He tried leaving piles of trash in Janus's room, it mysteriously disappeared. He tried to be overly sexual, Janus just smacked him with his cane(not hard enough that it hurt, but enough to get Remus to stop). He had threatened to challenge Janus to a duel and Janus had just laughed and said: "I'd love to see you try."

And Janus, well, Janus just kind of let it happen. What use was there in trying to get Remus to stop when Remus was adamant on trying to get him to leave. Plus, it was fun watching Remus grow frustrated that he wasn't leaving.

And his parents just asked if Janus would stay longer. He agreed, to make them happy, but Remus just groaned in annoyance that this man was as stubborn as him.

Midway through the second week, though, is when things started to get a bit weird. At least for Remus. He had given up on trying to drive Janus away, and instead opted to try and avoid him. It didn't work all the time but Remus was able to avoid him for most of the day by going into the woods, taking a different path each time and sometimes not taking one at all.

Each time he came back, though, there was a few different flowers waiting on his bed. Often they were wilted, but the ones that were still alive were always a bright green. The odd thing was, Remus didn't recognize any of the flowers.

Finally, he had had enough of the flowers and stormed across the hall to Janus's room. Neither of his guards tried to stop him, in fact he was pretty sure he saw them smirking to one another as he pushed open Janus's door.

Janus glanced up in surprise as Remus waltzed in, raising a brow. "May I help you?" He asked. Remus growled softly and tossed all the flowers he had received over the past few days at Janus. Janus still appeared puzzled as he caught them.

"What are you playing at?" Remus crossed his arms as he glared, and Janus blinked. A puzzled look appeared on his face.

"What?"

"The flowers! Why do you keep giving them to me? And where are they from?!"

"Would you prefer I give you something else?" Janus asked, rising to his feet and letting the flowers rest on his bed beside his closed book. Remus looked startled at the sudden closeness. "I figured you'd be interested in them, native to my homeland those flowers, all quite rare. But if you're not, I could always just stop."

Remus bit his lip. "Th... They're rare flowers?"

Janus nodded, walking past Remus to a small bookcase. He grabbed one of the books after briefly skimming the titles, and he passed it over to Remus. Remus looked down at the title in confusion.

Oddities in Nature, Volume II, Flowers.

"It's hard getting them to last so long or even grow in any gardens. Those are the few I've managed to keep alive. But even once they're wilted they still remain useful."

"Useful?"

Janus's eyes widened a bit as he realized what he had said. But the look was fine before Remus had time to process it had even happened. "For uh, medicines. Like this one," he picked up the first wilted flower he had ever given to Remus. "It's nicknamed Moondrop in my kingdom, only blooms under a blood supermoon, and even then just finding the Moondrop is a challenge, so although the supermoon occurs every few years we rarely find one when it does."

"What's it used in?" Remus found himself asking, looking between the flower and Janus.

Janus smiled warmly, genuinely, and Remus hated how his heart skipped a beat.

"A sort of uh... concoction to heal really bad wounds, like stab wounds in the stomach or burns.

"And it works?" Janus laughed lightly at Remus's tone, nodding.

"It does indeed." He tilted his head. "Want to borrow the book?"

"If it's not too much trouble..."

"Don't worry about it." Remus felt himself relax, holding the book closer. He was about to turn and leave when Janus tapped him on the shoulder. "Remus?"

Remus glanced at him, confused. Janus smiled and offered the flowers to him again, somehow they were all arranged neatly in a bouquet. Remus's jaw dropped slightly. "Think you're forgetting something," Janus hummed, slipping the bouquet into Remus's hands.

The next thing Remus knew he was standing in the hallway, Janus's door closed behind him, the book hugged to his chest and the flowers held close as he looked at them with a newfound interest. Remus glanced once back towards Janus's door before heading back to his room to start reading.

-

Janus waited until he heard the sound of another door closing, and he relaxed. Walking back to his bed, he picked up his book; a spell book. He wasn't practicing the spells yet, one of the reasons having just taken place. Remus walking in unannounced.

At home it wouldn't usually matter, since his family knew he was practicing sorcery and would often leave him be so he could concentrate. But it was like this royal family had no regard for privacy. Janus had already seen Orion enter Remus's room uninvited a few times, and Remus entering Roman's the same way. He wasn't going to risk getting caught practicing magic.

To his knowledge, they didn't even know Janus was a sorcerer. Well, he wasn't an official sorcerer technically, but he was practicing and learning and his teacher, Logan, was perfectly content in Janus learning it as a hobby. Besides, you never know when a spell could save your life.

Or someone else's, Janus reminds himself when he glances up and catches sight of the scar along his face and neck. It wasn't Logan's work, Logan wasn't in the kingdom when Janus had been injured in a fire. The sorcerer who did heal him his parents claimed to have died, and Janus had just accepted it. But he did want to learn sorcery after that.

His hand made its way to his cane, and without looking he felt around until his finger brushed over a button. He pressed it and the bottom part of the cane slipped to the floor. Flicking it around, Janus slipped the top part of the cane off as well, setting the piece on his bed as he held his wand, smiling to himself as he ran his fingers over the wood. Maybe he could practice some magic soon, later tonight after dinner. For now, Janus returned to his book, wand in hand but never actually performing any spells.

-

Remus closed the book after a few hours, and he pushed it a bit away from him on his bed. He rested his chin on his hands, brows pulled together as he thought.

This book was definitely an oddity itself, nevermind the plants depicted inside. Remus had only seen a few of them before, and it was a long time ago. The rest he had never even heard of.

Right, native to his land. Remus thought, glancing back to the bouquet sitting near his mirror, the flowers now in a black vase.

The book also showed how to brew the plants to create all sorts of tonics, plus some... graphic... diagrams on what could happen if brewed incorrectly. Now those were fascinating. Some of the things in the book Remus didn't understand, certain phrases that sounded odd when he said them, but he brushed that aside. They were probably things in another language altogether.

Shaking his head, Remus glanced to his window, frowning slightly at how dark it was outside. Had he really been reading for so long?

His eyes drifted to the flowers and he felt himself relax a bit. He supposed it wasn't that bad, reading for a few hours. He wondered if Janus had visited the castle library yet?

Remus shook his head. No, he was not going to start thinking about what Janus might like. He wasn't going to get attached. Surely he could find some way to get Janus to leave, and leave without Remus. He grabbed the book and moved it to his nightstand, climbing off his bed to change into his nightclothes. Pulling the covers over his head, Remus burrowed into his pillows, falling into a relatively calm sleep.

---

Almost another week had gone by. Janus was still living in the castle. Remus was surprised when he realized Janus wasn't leaving his room much outside of meals. Sometimes one or both of the guards would enter the room when the third, Janus's main guard named Ethan(something Remus was very surprised to have learned his name), would ask for them to come help with something. What they were helping with, Remus didn't know.

Sometimes, another book would be left outside Remus's door. Always part of the Oddities in Nature books. And always with a new, strange thing. Janus still gave him rare plants, but he now also started giving Remus little gems that looked boring at first but then would shimmer and cast rainbows on the walls or what looked like blood spatter on the ceiling if angled right.

Remus would return the books by handing them to the guards. Often Ethan. Remus didn't know the names of the other two, they wore helmets that covered all but the bottom part of their faces. A bit unnerving, and it made Remus curious, but he hadn't decided to ask yet.

"Maybe he thinks I'll go to him?" Remus asked his reflection one morning, running a hand through his greasy hair. Well, not as greasy as it normally was. He was making a bit more of an effort to keep it relatively clean.

His mother was happy with the small bit of effort. She was also delighted that Janus had yet to leave. Evelyn believed that Remus would like this one eventually.

Remus hated how she might be right.

There was no denying that Remus was curious about this prince. A bunch of secrets, Janus was, and Remus wanted to learn them all. And he despised that he was fascinated with Janus, finding himself biting back questions he desperately wanted to ask.

Remus never realized how hard staying quiet actually was.

Orion didn't mind Janus. But Remus knew that his father didn't like him as much as he liked Roman. And maybe that was another reason he liked Janus.

He shook his head. He should stop worrying about this, or else the streak in his hair might grow.

Remus grabbed his morningstar along with a small bag of snacks he'd stolen from the cooks. He clipped the bag to his belt and slung the morning star over his shoulder, making his way to the door.

When he walked out, he was surprised to see Janus also leaving his room, cane in hand along with the bag he always carried everywhere except to meals. Janus blinked at him, tilting his head and smiling gently.

"Prince Remus. Going somewhere?"

Remus clenched his morningstar tighter, swaying from side to side as he answered. "Just the woods."

Janus nodded slightly. "Mind if I join you?"

Remus frowned. "I don't know. You don't look like you'd last long where I'm heading."

One of Janus's guards laughed softly, and the other smirked. Remus felt heat raise to his cheeks as Janus rolled his eyes at them. "I can handle myself. Besides, there's some plants I've yet to find in the parts that I have explored and I really need these other plants."

Remus averted his gaze from the brown and yellow one staring at him. He forced his shoulders to relax. "Alright then, it's your funeral."

It really would be, considering where Remus was going was a few miles from the castle where there was rumor of a dragon. It had claimed the lives of some guards and Remus wanted to try and fight it himself, or at least see it. He wasn't going to try and keep Janus safe though, when he would be too busy watching his own back.

Remus turned down the hall without another word, hearing one of Janus's guards tell them to be careful. Janus walked with confidence as he followed Remus, heels clicking against the polished floor a good distraction for Remus. The steady beat kept his thoughts from spiraling, because while Remus might not be inclined to protect Janus... He didn't want to imagine what could happen to him.

One of the guards near the castle entrance stopped them, lifting their helmet to talk to them properly.

"Now where do you two think you're going?" They narrowed their eyes at Remus. "Not going after that dragon, are you?"

Remus smiled sheepishly as they eyed his morningstar. "No one said I couldn't go look at it!"

The guard glared. "That's just as idiotic as trying to fight it, my prince." They looked to Janus. "Surely you know this, Prince Janus."

Janus tilted his head. "It is indeed. Luckily we weren't going to go that way. Prince Remus was going to bring me to this flower he found the other day and we'll be back soon."

They raised a brow. "And he's bringing his morningstar because?"

Janus shrugged, crossing his arms and holding his head high. He was asking them to challenge him as he spoke, Remus realized, watching. "Defense, obviously. There are creatures everywhere in the woods aside from a dragon that could harm us. It makes sense to bring a weapon. Plus, Prince Remus brings it everywhere."

Remus almost pulled away when Janus slipped their arms together, almost tried to argue for Janus to back away. But then he saw the fading confidence in the guard's eyes and found a small smile gracing his face. "Now, can we go?"

The guard sighed, slipping their helmet back into place before stepping back. They walked in step out of the castle and Janus didn't let Remus go until they were out of sight of any palace guards and at an unmarked part of the forest.

"So, a dragon?" Janus hummed as he followed Remus into the brush. There was almost a natural trail, but it wasn't worn enough to really be considered a pathway. Janus noted the many broken branches where the guards probably walked without care, slashing their way through the lush part of the forest. Remus spared a glance his way before turning his attention back to the ground.

"You can always turn back."

"No, I still need those flowers. And I'd like to at least try and find them."

"Are they worth a run-in with a man-eating dragon?" Remus asked, glancing up at the barely visible sky. The canopy is already very thick, the trees standing tall and prouder than Remus has ever stood. He remembers one day when he had tried to climb one, fell, and broken his arm upon landing.

Remus was startled when Janus laughed. It was soft and Remus's heart jumped into his throat as Janus quieted. "I'm afraid to disappoint, but dragons aren't man-eating. Territorial, yes. But they don't eat humans."

"They kill them." Remus pointed out, watching Janus out of the corner of his eye as Janus walked beside him. Janus was keeping his eyes on their surroundings, just in case he did spot one of the plants he needed.

"Some. Most don't. This one must have built its den close to where those guards found it, if it killed them. Or they provoked it. Dragons will kill if pushed over the edge."

Remus frowned. "How do you know so much about dragons?"

Janus swung his cane slightly, moving it so it didn't touch the ground. "They're common where I'm from. You've gotta know about them or else you might end up six feet under."

"They're common?!"

Janus chuckled at Remus's astonishment. "Yes. Very common. It's hard to go anywhere without spotting one. Their dens are further away from us humans but the dragons like the free food and stealing things for their hordes."

Remus bit his lip. He was going to regret this.

Drawing his morningstar closer so it wouldn't hit anything, Remus sighed softly. "Can you tell me some other things about your kingdom?"

Janus tilted his head, smile twisting into a small smirk. "Oh, finally interested?"

Remus huffed, closing in on himself a bit more. "Nevermind."

Janus chuckled. "No, no. I'm sorry. Anything you want to know in particular?"

———————–

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@magimerlyn @deceits-left-glove @stopitanxiety @theyluna-womoon @pinkpersonlove-writes 

[snapeaddict]

Hi, I have been reading you're posts. And I love them. Could you do one like, during a Christmas Party and Snape despises it.. he is forced to join or something like that. I would really love to read them. Tq.

"It's been four years. Do you know how many steps there are from Albus' quarters to yours? And he comes here every year anyway."

"I really do not feel guilty over this, Minerva. May I remind you the headmaster pays me a visit at least twice a week? I don't see how this changes from the usual."

Minerva leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"Well, everytime he joins us back with a sad expression on his face. That is not usual."

Severus put the parchment he had been writing on back in one of his desk' drawers, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you really trying to guilt trip me?" he asked, half smiling.

"Well, I figured out Albus had no tried this tactic already", Minerva sighed.

"That is correct. But despite all of your efforts, I'm still not coming at the staff party, thank you." He watched as she sat in front of him, pouring herself a cup of tea that wasn't supposed to be have been there for her. She challenged him with a look, wanting to see if he would say anything, but Severus, at 25 years old, respected her too much for that. It would take him another five years to friendly insult her without any kind of remorse.

He just sighed and got up to fetch another cup.

"You don't think you are spending the evening here, do you, Minerva? Because I have things to do and you have Christmas Eve to celebrate, as you have all been so eager to remind me these past two weeks."

But the look of seriousness on Minerva's thin face did not change, on the contrary.

"Would you tell me why you dislike Christmas so much?" she asked him, her voice softer than it had been. "Or does it have something to do with us?"

"Of course it has nothing to do with you", he replied, rolling his eyes, sitting back in front of her. He hesitated. "It's just not... an event I mentally associate with positive feelings."

"I understand." She was thoughtful for a few seconds, before speaking again. "I remember quite distinctly Christmas day when I was three years old - it was a few days after my father learnt my mother was a witch. It took me time to think about something else when the time comes."

She looked at him encouragingly. He seemed to hesitate, frowning a little, his eyes locked on his half drank tea.

"My father... He wasn't exactly a pleasant man. We did not have money for a Christmas tree, or for any sort of gifts, but he always found enough money to get drunk on this day. I actually thought it was a very sad day compared to what the other children talked about at school afterwards."

Minerva was about to ask him if his school years had been any different, as she remembered most times he stayed at the school, but he anticipated.

"Of course Hogwarts was better. Potter and his friends weren't here, no Slytherin remained during the Christmas holidays. I liked this sudden loneliness. But there were still... Things I missed, or disliked."

The laughters of his house mates as there was no one to welcome him home during the holidays. Lily's wonderful stories about her own celebrations. Wondering if his mum would think about him and send him something. She always did in the end, but he would hide it as it was nothing comparable to what the others had received, especially in a house where wealth was so important.

Feeling left out, and poor, and unwanted. Early memories.

Minerva understood. She understood well.

"So brewing down here must seem like a much better alternative", she concluded, something sounding like guilt in her voice.

"Indeed."

He seemed to think the conversation was over. She did not.

"But Severus, now there are people who do want to celebrate with you. With gifts. Like me."

Severus looked surprised. He had got her a bottle, quite expensive actually and he hoped she would like it, but he had not considered the fact she could get him something as well. Yes, it was true his fourth year of teaching was easier than the previous ones, and Minerva was one of the main reasons why.

"It would be a pity to miss this opportunity you weren't offered before. I promise it's exactly as Christmas should be. Warm, cozy, a game of chess, alcohol, pudding. And Pomona wanted to see you as well..."

Minerva knew it wasn't only Albus who had been a bad negociator. This year things had really changed between Severus and the staff, between him and her, and she knew he rather enjoyed their company now, even if always a little awkward. And she knew Severus needed to feel like he belonged somewhere, more than he needed to know about the importance of socialising or all the things there were to eat or how he would beneficiate from it. She looked at him.

"You know things are different this year. Don't you think it's time to link Christmas to positive memories? Finally something we can actually improve, if not make up for."

He hesitated. Actually, he was more afraid to disturb than to speak with his colleagues, and he felt Minerva was telling the truth; it was, after all, the first time she had come to see him, while he knew the headmaster had done it out of duty, at least the first year. What he saw in his colleague's eyes... Was it... hope? Some kind of stammering... friendship?

But Severus always pushed people away. He always did.

"Honestly, Severus, don't trust your instincts here. Trust me instead, just tonight", Minerva said softly, very aware of his doubts. Severus sighed internally. Was he so easy to read?

"Very well," he replied quietly.

Minerva looked overjoyed, getting up excitingly.

"That is wonderful news! The others won't believe it... I promise it will be worth your time", she added, smiling to him.

So this was how Severus got up to follow her as they left his quarters to go up to the staffroom, already late as it was eight thirty. He was careful to hide his present behind his back, as well as the usual socks he had gotten for Albus. He would have given them to his colleagues at breakfast otherwise...

"Don't tell me this was a bet between you and the headmaster", Severus said casually, as they opened the door.

"Unfortunately, it wasn't. Because the headmaster is not fun and dislikes bets. But... Do you like bets, Severus? For I do like them a lot..." Minerva grinned.

"Severus, my boy you came!" Albus happily interrupted them, as Pomona knowingly took the gifts off his hands and put them under the Christmas tree.

"I had hoped you would", she then told him, offering him a glass of wine. "There's much I'd like to discuss with you!"

-

Two hours later, Minerva watched as Albus and Severus interrupted a game of chess to let everyone exchange their gifts, the young Potions Master blushing as Pomona gifted him a plant she had secretly grown for him. His black eyes turned to look at her and she smiled to him in response.

Carefully, making sure no one was looking, he mouthed the words "thank you", before turning back to his game, frowning in concentration. Albus nodded knowingly at Minerva, his eyes sparkling, before returning to the game as well.

Ah, this would become another tradition. She knew it.

And it seemed she had finally found a betting partner...

(Thank you for four you kind words and this prompt, dear ! ❤️)