#he smiles at you and teases you and then pours his not inconsiderable power into you

[rcmclachlan]

what if i put my life in your hands? what if i took your life in mine?

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff. 

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

[obeymemc-marcie]

Special Guest Appearance

(That's the title of this one)

Warnings: NSFW, Dom!Levi, a smidge of tail action, MC uses she/her pronouns with female genetalia, slight masturbation, mentions of demon in heat, let me know if I need to add more! 💜

"Hey there Deviltube, L3 here and welcome back to another video. We're going to pick up where we left off here playing Skyrim. If you remember we were-"

Marcie mouthed the words with a practiced ease as she lip-synced his signature intro, dangling her legs outside the rim of his tub bed. Her eyes roved over her own device as she played through the same quest he was currently livestreaming. He had told her before that he didn't mind if she'd made an appearance during one of his streams, but she knew this was his passion and didn't want to distract him from it. Besides, playing along with him always made her feel giddy, gave her a sense of happiness she couldn't explain.

Today, however was a little different. After his last livestream, Marcie had pulled up a walkthrough to read ahead through the next quest. She still wanted to play it through with him but this time, she wanted to make an appearance during his livestream.

It had been almost a full month since his last heat and now that he had Marcie, well it was a little easier for him to get through it, but Marcie also knew he dreaded the heat cycle. It made him insatiable and dark, rough and driven by lust and the pure primal instinct to mate. Marcie couldn't help the bolt of pleasure that danced along her spine, pooling in her lower abdomen remembering how he had been with her. She licked her lips, fighting back a moan, as she felt the ghost of his tail coiled around her throat, his cocks penetrating both of her holes at the same time. Her blue eyes fixated on her screen, set in determination and she squeezed her thighs together just slightly, already feeling her arousal dampen her panties. Today would be an interesting livestream indeed.

"What do you guys think, should I fast travel to the Greybeards or run there?" Levi panned his camera to the area surrounding him and his eyes caught some bandits in the distance, "or should I go kill those guys and steal their horse?" He paused for a moment to rummage through his character's inventory as the comments flowed in, all his viewers casting their votes.

That's when his nose picked up a scent, light at first but unmistakable as it whirled around his senses, embracing him. The scent of sweet oranges and subtle notes of peppermint mellowed out by eucalyptus and tied together with lemongrass; it was the ambrosial scent of his human's arousal.

Orange eyes could see her legs swaying over the edge of his tub in their peripheral vision, he caught the movement as her legs moved closer together and get smell became more potent.

Levi snapped out of his trance when he felt his mouth begin to salivate and turned his attention back to the game. He saw a prominent blush spreading out across the bridge of good nose, painting his cheeks and a light pink in his livestream camera feed. The pupils of his eyes narrowed into slits but only so briefly he thought he'd imagine it. Shaking his head, he faked a few coughs and cleared his throat, hoping it would dispel the blush and felt a stirring in the back of his mind.

"H-hey," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat again, reaching out to take a swig of his energy drink. "Guess I'm going to go steal a horse," his laugh was forced but he quickly found himself delving back into the game.

Marcie was biting her hand trying not to laugh. Watching his face, his real time reactions in the corner of the steam, oh he was going to punish her for what she had planned. She smiled, practically humming in anticipation. Bandits had not spawned in her game so she led her character over to where his would be on his playthrough and paused to wait for him. Making as little sound as possible, Marcie pulled her shirt up and over her head and placed it on the blankets next to her. Levi engaged in combat with the bandits and took the opportunity to pull her legs down and tug off her jeans as well, leaving her with just her bra and underwear on.

The full scent of her arousal washed over him, no longer held back by the denim. He paused his game mid fight to catch his breath. Comments poured in, some asking if he was a noob for chickening out of a fight, some asking if he was okay because he looked feverish. His eyes cut back over to the tub and noticed her legs were not hanging over the rim anymore. Listening for a moment for any indication she was doing something indecent in his bed, Marcie noticed Levi was looking her direction on the livestream and held up her hand, giving him a thumbs-up signaling she was okay. Hesitating, he turned back to his game, face felt like it was on fire. The red stuck out against his normally pale face.

"Sorry about that," Levi saw he was sporting a small pout and changed his expression to a small smile, sheepishly looking into the camera, "I guess I'm not feeling too well today but I still plan on carrying out the rest of this mission." Talking helped him shift his mindset back into gaming mode and soon he was making his way to the Throat of the World on horseback.

A few hours had passed, Marcie found herself lost in the game as well until she'd heard the words she'd been waiting for. While reading the walkthrough, she memorized the key phrase for when she would act out her plan. Levi had a knack for letting the cutscenes play all the way through, soaking in the dialogue and cinematography like a long-awaited movie.

The voices droned on as she saved her game and put her console to sleep. Peeking her head above the top of the tub, her lips spread in a conniving smile; the mischievous kitty about to eat herself a canary. Readjusting her breasts to plump them up in her bra, she crawled out of the tub and slunk down. His attention was solely focused on the monitor, watching the Nordic heroes battling against Alduin's forces, eyes sparkling as he watched the scene unfold. She almost felt guilty for what she was about to do. Almost.

Marcie crept and crouched to hide behind the file cabinet under his desk, successfully concealing herself. Her nerves fluttered, she debated giving up and returning to the tub. But then she felt the ghost of his claws running down her thighs as his tongue, his forked tongue, made her see stars between her legs. Her breathing shuddered as she steeled her resolve and crept closer, crawling on her hands and knees under his desk.

Levi had been entranced by the cutscene. The graphics, the cinematography, the dialogue, the lore, it all fascinated him. The rich lore of the Elder Scrolls and here was the moment he saw the three heroes go against Alduin and witness how the World Eater was cast forward into time.

He almost missed the spike in Marcie's arousal. The scent was stronger this time, he choked back a whine. His leg started to bounce in frustration as he felt his own arousal start to stir. Levi bit his lip as he felt his pants tighten around him, he could feel another part of him start to wake up as well, after having slumbered for almost a month. His grip tightened on the controller as he shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to add a little more friction and pressure to his semi-hardening erection.

Marcie could feel the smile that stretched across her face, smug and victorious. She could fell herself start to drool and she inched closer. He was reacting to her. Reaching her hand down to her own apex, Marcie ran her fingers through her folds biting back a sigh and played with her clit and watched the tent in his pants twitch and rise.

Levi sucked in a breath, releasing his lip, a vein pulsated along his neck as he grit his teeth together. She was teasing him now. She had to have known what affect she had on him. The screen blacked out as it shifted to a loading screen. Taking the moment to roll his chair back, Levi arched his body, turning to look into the tub bed. He felt his heart stop when it was empty. He clearly still smelled her, but where-

Oh.

She smiled innocently as they made eye contact, raising her hand to her mouth and sucked on the fingers that were previously rubbing against her folds. Marcie groped her breast before pointing up, indicating his game had finished loading.

Levi's mouth was gaping, his face was burning red, his erection straining against his pants. His eyes slowly followed where she was pointing and he scrambled to pull himself back to his desk and turned off the camera.

"S-sorry everyone," he gulped, ignoring all the comments flowing in, "uh, technical d-difficulties," Levi cleared his throat, "let's p-pick up where we left off." Marcie snickered silently as he tried to keep his composure and placed her hands on his knees, gently squeezing his thighs. Levi shifted into his demon form instantaneously and Marcie licked her lips as his tail cracked against the tile floor.

This was supposed to be the moment in the game where he was to fight Alduin. He had spent days level crunching so he could be prepared. Oh, he was going to punish her. Levi smiled deviously and paused the game.

"I swear, some people in this house are really inconsiderate, I'm sorry, I have to go yell at Mammon again," his tail was thrashing around behind him making crashing noises to accompany the lie. Muting the microphone, Levi rolled his chair back slowly and leaned forward to grip Marcie's chin and pulled her up to meet his face, a wicked grin spreading over his lips. Marcie gulped and licked her lips in anticipation.

"You're going to sit in my lap, and I'm going to edge you until I've decided you've had enough." She nodded enthusiastically and he shook his head, and let out a deep laugh "You underestimate my power."

In normal circumstances, she would have snorted at the reference but with her current state of arousal and the way he was devouring her almost-naked form with his eyes, his words sent shivers down her spine.

Levi rolled his chair back and Marcie climbed out from under his desk. He raised his hips and commanded her to take off his pants.

"You should be wet enough to take all of me, right kohai?"

Marcie bit her lip and twirled a stand of her hair around her finger, saying, "but you're so big senpai, I don't know if my tight pussy will be able to take all of you, but maybe if you fucked my throat first?" Her lower lip jutted out in a pout and he groaned, the arm rests cracking under his grip.

Levi released a dark chuckle, cocked his head to the side, and smiled sadistically. "You haven't earned that right. You know where the lube is, go get it." She pouted but obliged, pulling open one of the drawers and took out the bottle.

"Good girl now hand it over," he outstretched his hand and Marcie whined. He was denying her of touching him, he tutted in response as she held it out to him. "You should have thought about that earlier. You have to earn the right to touch me," Levi coated his erection with enough lube and tossed the bottle onto the floor. "Now, turn around and come sit on my lap."

"Yes senpai," Marcie did as she was told, sticking her ass out further than necessary before lowering herself down, releasing a shuddering moan as his size stretched her out. The lube made it easier for him to slide in but she was still met with resistance and struggled with his size, riding him shallowly to coax her muscles to loosen up.

Levi growled, his tail cracking against the floor as he felt her walls squeeze him. It had been awhile since they were last intimate, and he could tell with the way her heat constricted around him. Leaning forward, a claw traced the fabric of her bra before twisting, slicing right through the fabric. His hand reached around and groped her plump breast as she had done earlier, his other hand moving down her body.

His fingers ghosted over her skin, feeling the flesh ripple and twitch under his delicate touch. He bit into her shoulder as his hand reached her apex, his fingers rolling themselves over her sensitive nub and lapped his tongue against the love bite.

"What's wrong Marcelline," he palmed her breast, toying with her nipple and teased the skin on her other shoulder, "I thought you wanted this yet you're struggling. Try to keep quiet as you take the rest of me or I'll have no choice but to shove my tail down your throat." The tip of the appendage slithered around her thigh before coming up to flick against her clit as emphasis. Panting and biting her lip, Marcie continued rolling her hips in slow and shallow thrusts, moving as much as he'd allow. His nails dug into her hip painfully if she moved too much.

Rolling them back to the computer, Levi switched out his headphones, opting for a single earbud so he could hear her and the game, and moved his mic to the other side, away from Marcie but still able to talk into it. He'd have to read the comments later, but he lost a few viewers.

'I bet if I turned the camera back on, the viewer count would skyrocket.' Levi mulled over the thought but she threw her head back onto his shoulder as she fully seated herself on his lap and he could see her face; eyes clouded in lust, breasts rolling around to match her panting, cheeks burning bright red, mouth hanging open, was that drool? No, only he was allowed to see her like this. No one else deserved to lay eyes on his precious Marcie.

Levi gave her breast one last squeeze before returning his hand to the keyboard. "Not a single peep. If you make a noise or try to move, I will only play longer." He kissed her shoulder, "you understand kohai?" He smiled as she nodded.

Shout-out to @kawaiizard for helping me beta read this 😭 I appreciate you 💜

[kinkymankey]

Shantae: Half-Genie Housewife - Chapter 1

Shantae stood just outside the doors to the lair's innermost sanctum, hyping herself up. The puzzles have been solved, the enemies defeated and the traps avoided, all while she was heavily pregnant with twins. She smiled and rubbed her stomach. “This is it, you guys. Nearly over.” She pushed open the door and charged in, taking a battle stance. “Baron!”

“Ah, the little half-genie Shantae,” the baron chuckles, his back to her as he stood hunched over a cauldron. His figure was obscured by a dark cloak. “What an unexpected surprise, and by unexpected I of course mean completely expected.”

“So? I’m ready to take you on!” She retorts, raising her fists. “Get ready to have your butt kicked!”

“On the contrary, my dear,” he grinned and chuckled, beginning to turn around. “It is you who will have your--!” Now fully turned around, he stopped himself mid sentence, his menacing look on his plain, shaven face dropped to one of confusion and even surprise.

Shanate grinned and laughed. “What? Surprised I’m still in one piece from your traps? Gotta admit, they were pretty good for a new guy like you.”

The baron took a sharp inhale, and fiddled with his fingers. “Well, um, I guess that is one thing as well,” he nodded, “but, um, I was not aware of...that.” He gestured to her stomach area.

The half-genie gave a confused look. “What? You mean my tummy?” She poked it with a finger. “What? Think I can’t kick butt when expecting?”

“I mean, it is very clear you can, just isn’t something you really expect. Man. Woof.” He turned his back to her again. “Why didn’t they tell me she’s pregnant?! Would have been good to know! Can, can I even do this now?”

“Huh?” Shanate tilted her head, dropping her fists to now rest on her hips. “Can you what? Fight me? I don’t see why not.”

He turned back to her, throwing his hood down to reveal long unkempt brown locks. He clapped his hands together in front of him. “Listen. Allow me to level with you. As you can tell, I am a new baron. Heck, I don’t even have a title yet. I’m just ‘baron’, not even a capital ‘B’.” He chuckled awkwardly. “As such, this is really my make or break moment to see if I can become a true baron. I have some qualms with it being I have to beat up a pregnant girl.”

“Who says you’re gonna win?” She smirks. “Listen, I went through your dungeon, solved your puzzles, and even learned a new transformation that I’m sure will help me take down whatever tricks you have up your sleeves. Let’s fight already!” She pouts a little.

“How far along are you anyways?” He asks absentmindedly.

Shantae rolls her eyes. “Eight months with twins.” She places a hand on her bump and rubs a small area.

“Ok. Yep. That’s pretty far along, especially for twins,” the baron nodded. “I could easily put you in labor during our fight, and I don’t want that on me.”

“Aw, come on!” She shouts, clearly frustrated. “Please? I swear I won’t pop! My tummy hasn’t even dropped yet, so I’m not even close to labor.”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t control when the baby comes, unless it's some genie power,” he adds, unimpressed. “Look, why are you even fighting when you’re so pregnant?”

“Because I’ve gotta protect people from bad guys like you! It’s my job!”

“And there is no one else who can handle this? Just you?”

“Well, my friends could,” Shantae contemplates, but quickly shakes it off, “but this really is my thing, so I want to keep doing it my way.” She shrugs and pats her bump.

“You could at least set up a buddy system or something. What happens if you do something that hurts your babies or something? What then?”

“Well…” She was quiet for a while, not really sure what to say. “I just try not to,” she finally responded, before glaring at him in an angry yet kind of cute way. “Why do you even care about this anyways? You’re the bad guy!” “Valid point, but I don’t want to harm the unborn child! They’re the purest of innocents as there are, and I will not be a monster!”

“Children,” she corrects. “But you do other bad things, right?”

“Theft, larceny, enslavement, pirating, malicious potion brewing, world domination,” he listed off, “but nothing like killing. No sir. Non-lethal takeovers are the plans of this baron-to-be!”

“Ugh! You’re the lamest baron ever!” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “You really suck!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what do you want me to do then, huh? Just break the Barons’ Code? That’s a great idea to get kicked out!” He retorted mockingly. He crosses his arms. “Inconsiderate welp. You could learn some decency. In fact...yeah,” he smiled and nodded his head slowly. “Yeah. I think I know an apt punishment for you now. Get ready, half-genie!”

“Oh, so now you wanna fight. Finally!” She grinned, resuming her fighting posture.

“With magic!” He declares, turning back to his cauldron.

“Oh yeah, with what?” She mocks. “I have loads of transformations. Flood the room? I’ll swim as a mermaid. Fire floor? I’ll fly above it! Spikes? I’ll jump from spike to spike as a monkey! Show me what ya got!”

“Quiet the impressive repertoire,” he smirks at his cauldron. “You like having such varied transformations on hand, is that correct, my dear?”

She responds cautiously after a moment. “Yeah…?”

“Well, then.” He turns back to her, a pink vial now in hand. “Perhaps you would care for a new one?”

Her eyes go right for the vial. “Yeah, sure. Probably some kind of poison, isn’t it? What makes you think I can trust you with that?”

“You can’t really, can you?” He asks rhetorically, shaking the vial. “Shame. Looks like you’ll have to take a chance.” He suddenly dashes forward with a great speed, placing a hand firmly on her belly.

“Hey!” She shouts, her facing turning a bright red and her voice growing angry. “W-Watch it, pal!” She tries to back up, but it feels to her as if his hand was now glued to her.

“Say ‘ah’,” he teased as he tried to force the bottle to her lips.

She curls in her lips, keeping her mouth sealed. “Mhmh!” She shakes her head. The baron, not to be deterred, begins to squeeze her belly; soft at first, but progressively tighter and tighter. Shantae begins to moan, holding them back as long as she can until she is forced to open her mouth. “What happened to--?”

Before she could so much as start, the baron quickly poured the contents of the vial straight down her throat, forcing her to swallow it down. The liquid was very thin, and emptied quickly down her gullet. “You JERK!” She shouted, trying to swipe away at him with her hair.

“Thought you’d like a little gift,” he joked, dodging by quickly rushing back as fast as he had come.

“What happened to not hurting a pregnant lady?” She asked in a hoarse voice while rubbing her throat.

“Did I hurt you, though?” He asked back, sounding honest.

“You sq-squeezed my tummy! An-And forced me to drink that weird gunk!” Her voice was returning to normal, but sounded flustered now.

“But does it hurt?” He asked again, just as honest.

“It...well, n-no,” she responded quietly. “B-But still!” She pouted.

“See? No harm, so no foul.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Big jerk,” she huffs, crossing her arms atop her belly. “What did that stuff even do to me?”

“Not feeling it yet? (Not enough bat wool),” he asked. “Well then you should be feeling it soon enough.”

“What? What is it?!”

“You’ll see,” he grins

She cowers slightly, putting her hands on her belly nervously. Suddenly, a weak headache strikes her, and she feels the whole weight of her body on her. She takes a few hazy steps as the headache builds in intensity, trying to lean against a wall that was not there.

“Feeling woozy?”

“N-No!” She retorts, gasping as the headache makes a large surge.

“Seems like it to me,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” she scoffs and blows a raspberry before shortly falling to the floor. Oooh, my head...wait...what is this…?

“Something on your mind?” He asks tauntingly.

“Nnggh-nothing!” She snaps, shutting her eyes and grasping her pounding head. What are these thoughts? They’re so weird…

“Trying to fight it? I’d suggest not. It is a very strong potion,” he voices.

“Wh-What did you do?” She struggles to say, the thoughts in her mind getting more intrusive and over powering.

“Your thoughts. Tell me them, speak them aloud and you will have your answer.” He grins deviously.

“Staying at home, c-cooking...cleaning?” She grits her teeth as she speaks, and the realization hits her. “Y-You’re making me a housewife…?”

“Yes! Exactly!” He pumped a fist. “Now you got it! Right on the money!”

“Why?!” She yelled, making as strong as an effort she still could to hold back the thoughts in her head.

“It’s simple, really, when you think about it. By making you a dutiful little housewife, you won’t get in my way to stop my plans as you’ll be much too busy around the house. Much too busy!” He explained. “In fact, you’ll never trouble the Barons again. This will certainly earn me my baron title!”

“You jerk!” Shantae retorted in an appalled tone.

“Fight it all you want,” the baron sounded amused, “but once the brew eventually sets in, you will simply have to give in.”

The half-genie began breathing deeply as the thoughts began to overtake her. “You big, dumb jerk! You are the absolute worst, you big, fat, stupif je--!”

And then she suddenly stopped, mid sentence. A confused, almost lost look came across her face.

And there it is, the baron thought. “My, how rude. You’re hurting my feelings.

“Oh? I-I’m ever so sorry,” Shantae responded, her tone suddenly sweet. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Score. “Oh, think nothing of it,” he chuckled with a hand wave. “You were simply not in the right mind.”

She giggles lightly. “Of course. Um, would you mind maybe showing me home?” She blushed slightly, trying to get to her feet.

“Of course,” he nods, quickly coming to her side to help her up. “Where is it you live, my dear?”

“I live in--.” A chill shook her head, and her eye twitched. “What? I’ll never tell you, ya creep!” She yelled and pointed accusingly, before a confused look came over her face and she withdrew her arm. “S-Sorry about that...that was strange.”

“You’re fine. Must simply be the hormones,” he tells her. Fight all you want, little half-genie, he laughs to himself.

“Probably. They do do strange things,” she giggles, stroking her belly slowly.

“Fret not, I understand. So, where do you live? I assume somewhere in Scuttle Town, correct?”

 “Yes, the lighthouse on the outskirts,” she nodded with a smile.

“I can manage that. I’ll use some magic to take you back,” I offer.

“Be my--.” Her head jerked slightly, before she took a step back and tried to run away.

“Shantae? Where are you going?” He asked calmly but with a subtle confidence.

“Away from you, you je--!” She suddenly stops with a confused look, nearly stumbling over. “W-What was that?”

“Careful.” The baron hurries to her side to catch her from falling. “Not the best idea to run while pregnant. Center of gravity is all off.”

“Of course, I shouldn’t be doing such silly things,” she giggles. “Thank you, again.”

“No problem,” he smiles comfortingly. “Speaking of silly things, your get up…”

“Hm?” She looks down at herself. As was the usual, she wore a very small red crop top, with pants in a matching shade that were see-through slightly. She also wore gold braces around her arms and her hair was held back in a tight ponytail. “You’re right, this is pretty silly,” she laughs. “I mean, just look at all this belly I’m showing off. “

“Just a suggestion,” the baron started as he began to lead her out of his lair, “but perhaps change into something more reasonable when you get home?”

“A very good suggestion,” she agreed, following him. “I had the idea myself. I certainly must have something more comfortable.”

“Yes,” he nodded, cheering in victory on the inside. “So, any other plans for today?”

“Hmmm.” She trails behind him a small distance as they walk. “I think I should clean up my house today, certainly has been a while...maybe take a crack at some baking...and...kicking your butt!”

He quickly glanced behind himself to catch her charging forward, shouting and making motions to tackle him. He quickly stepped aside, but made it seem like he got hurt in some way.

Shantae rolls forward, ending up on her butt. The determined look on her face quickly melts to one of alarm and embarrassment. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me!”

“You’re fine. I am quite alright,” he assures her, quickly coming to help her up. “Though, let’s hope that’s the last outburst…” A bold attempt, but that was your last try. The potion should have fully set in by now.

“Yes, let’s,” she nodded in agreement. “Sorry, again. I’ve been such a mess, and I have no idea why.”

“You’re fine, really. I’ve handled worse,” he joked, making a small laugh. “So, back on topic, is that all you have planned? What about going out?”

Shantae looked at him with a bemused expression. “Why would I go out? Maybe for shopping, but what else?”

“Just curious,” the baron responded, congratulating himself mentally. “Is there any reason why?”

“I belong at home,” she explains. “That’s where I should be, preparing for my babies.” She hugs her belly, smiling down at it.

“Good,” the baron grins. The two eventually arrive outside his lair, which exits to the lush jungles of Sequin Land. “Seems quite a walk,” he commented, trying to gaze through the rather dense trees. “How did you get here to begin with, if you can recall?”

“I ran,” she responded, and seemed to surprise herself. “What a silly thing to do!” She laughs, patting her stomach.

“And dangerous. I must offer you a safer means back home. I have a spell that can make the travel much quicker.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she nodded.

“Of course,” he said. “Hopefully, we may have another visit with each other at a later time.”

“That would be very nice.”

“Farewell, Shantae,” he waved, and in an instant he summoned a whirlwind, producing a squeak from the half-genie before she disappeared with it. When she finally did, the baron let out a hearty, loud laugh. “It worked! Now she sees herself as nothing more than a lowly housewife! I am free to pursue my plans! The barons may wreck havoc as they please!” A wide grin grows across his face. “Oh! I must tell them! I will certainly earn my title now!” With a spring in his step, the baron returned to the bowels of his lair.

[elleonmybeloved]

Irresistible Clover

Amnesia | Heroine x Kent Words: 3722 Chapter: 1 Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448383/chapters/53637313

Summary: Hera's got it bad for her coworker and once temp math-professor Kent, but she thinks it's pretty clear that he's not interested in relationships, or her for that matter. But when a golden opportunity to spend some time with him presents itself, she just can't resist being a sucker for love.

Kent isn't good at social relationships and he's well aware of that. A romantic relationship would just be asking for trouble, and probably not worth all the effort. But when it comes to his clever coworker Hera, he can't help but insert himself into her life every chance he gets. It's so illogical, more than 50% of relationships in people his age end in heartbreak, but where is this urge to hold her, protect her, and kiss her coming from? Why can't he treat her like everyone else?

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   

It was official. Hera was having a bad day. Well, days, actually.

First, her power went off right in the middle of her favorite game  Riddlemaster  yesterday. She’d only been able to play half an hour more before her laptop had finally died, and she’d lamented for having to watch it on such a small screen the whole time.

Defeated, she’d turned in early. Not much else to do with the lights out.

Second, she’d been unable to sleep until 3am, unused to the pitch dark. She preferred to sleep with her night light on, and refused to be ashamed about that no matter how much Shin teased her about it.

Third, the power was still out when she left to go to work in the morning, and all the food she had to eat was in the fridge, which she couldn’t open unless she wanted everything in there to spoil.

Finally, only an hour into her shift at the cafe, she’d developed a nice sleep deprivation headache that throbbed painfully behind her eyes.

So she couldn’t help it if she was being a little less patient than usual.

“Hey Hera, could you load up a fresh batch of frozen strawberries? We just ran out.”

Hera looked up from the triple-order of parfaits she was making and eyed the three whole other mostly idle people that Mine could have asked instead of her. Frozen strawberries were heavy and as one would assume,  frozen  and would smart on her bare hands after just a few seconds of carrying the bag.

“I’m busy with an order right now.” 

“Oh.” Mine looked extremely surprised, and Sawa who was working on sorting through tickets behind her wore a similarly shocked expression. Hera was usually quite polite with her speech. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” Hera didn’t think she  sounded  very sorry. Keeping her eyes down, she finished pouring the cream topping on the parfaits with a more aggressive squeeze than was necessary, and stalked off to go deliver them to the table before they began to melt.

Unfortunately for her, Ikki was ‘entertaining’ a customer at the bar which was right in her way to access the exit flap. Normally she’d just wait, but the parfaits were heavy, and if Waka noticed her serving half-melted ice cream she’d be the one to get berated later. And she really didn’t feel like listening to that.

“Excuse me.” She said shortly, looking pointedly at Ikki. “Coming through.”

His eyes widened and he hastily got out of the way. “Of course, my apologies for blocking your way…”

Hera didn’t respond, just briskly and carefully weaved around tables and customers to deliver her order.

Staring after her, Ikki made a short “huh” under his breath and then turned to the lady who was still giving him moony eyes as if nothing had even happened. 

“Right - thank you for your kind words my lady, but actually we don’t accept those types of things here. If you have any additional questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to voice them. For now, I’m afraid I must return to the kitchen.”

“Aww… okay.”

Back in the kitchen, Shin was restocking the whipped cream and cinnamon while Kent stoically oversaw the cooking of what Ikki assumed was about to be one of their “Creamy Heart Gnocchi” plates. Mine was struggling to lift a large bag of frozen strawberries out of the freezer, although it was a matter of height rather than strength.

Ikki leaned against the doorway to avoid getting in the way.

“Seems like our cute little maid has her claws out today.” He stated probingly. He wanted to affirm that it wasn’t just him. While his eyes didn’t work on Hera, he fancied that his natural charm still worked on her just fine.

“If you’re -kya!- talking about Hera, then yeah, she’s like, totally bitchy today.” Mine grumbled, yelping as she finally succeeded at getting the bag down. 

Kent made a displeased grunt of warning at the profanity.

“Grumpy, I mean. She  scowled  at me earlier when I asked her to get these for me!” Mine made a cute pouty face and demurred her posture to look pitiful.

“Restocking desert items is part of your responsibilities, not hers.” Kent corrected.

“Hpmh! Whatever. Let’s see how many customers she can please with  that  attitude.”

“Can you stop gossiping about dumb shit and get back to work.” Shin said, setting down a container of whipped cream a bit harder than necessary. As usual, he looked irritated.

Kent forwent correcting the profanity since he too wanted them to get back to work rather than conversing further.

Mine huffed and stalked out, forgetting to look like she was struggling to carry the heavy bag, holding it in one arm with ease. Ikki made an amused face and got the container of darjeeling that he had come in for originally and got to work brewing the tea.

 ---

 Not that Hera had begun the day with much in the way of patience, but right now she was dangerously close to losing it completely. Just one more hour of torture and she could go home to what was hopefully an apartment fully restored with power.

There were no windows in Meido no Histuji, which contributed to it’s cozy den-like atmosphere which inspired customers to relax in the dim lighting of the cafe. It was probably good for business, but Hera would have liked to have some windows simply for the fact that  maybe , she wouldn’t be dealing with a table of male customers who wanted more maidly services than she was willing to offer.

Since they probably wouldn’t feel so bold in the face of broad daylight.

Hera forced a polite smile and held the tray up higher so that it would block access to where her ample chest swelled her apron.

“Thank you for your kind words masters, but we don’t offer any of those kinds of services at this establishment.” She really should have been more cordial, but this was the wrong day for them to grope her. “It is stated quite clearly in our rules on the sign outside the cafe. Should you masters require some help to read it, I can gladly provide a chance to have my manager come personally reaffirm this.”

“You bitch, do you really think you’re in a position to make fun of us? Just provide us with proper service, it’s not that hard.”

“Right. Proper maids serve in silence with a smile.”

Were all teenage men this way? Horny, aggressive, and rude? Even her male coworkers were at least one of the three, considering Ikki’s womanizing, Shin’s rough speech and actions, and Kent’s cold and inconsiderate tendencies. At least Toma didn’t act that way, but he was like an annoying helicopter parent that liked to boss her around, which she appreciated even less.

Clicking the pen off, Hera decided to go get Waka instead of continue trying to take their order. 

“Sir?”

“What is it, Hera?”

“Customers at table three just groped me under the pretense of trying to check I was taking their order right sir.” Hera would usually sugarcoat the situation but right now she didn’t feel like it. “I told them we don’t provide those services but they obviously aren’t taking no for an answer. I figured it would be best for you to decide how to handle the situation. And if you don’t mind sir, I’d like to take my break now.”

Waka’s eyebrows skyrocketed at her tone - a far cry from her usual sweet gentle voice. Though with the situation at hand he didn’t blame her.

“I see. Permission granted. I’ll handle the situation, thank you for notifying me.” He pulled up his gloves and pushed up his glasses and made for table three, a dark aura following him.

Back in the break room, Hera was slumped on the couch, eating the apple and peanut butter sandwich she’d cobbled together this morning like it was a feast, lamenting the lack of the bento locked in the forbidden depths of her fridge.

She was hungry enough not to care though, and when she finished she laid all the way down on the couch and pressed her hands against her eyes, wishing her headache would just go away already. Her boob was also kinda sore where the guy had jabbed it in his attempt to get a handful.

When she heard the sound of the break room door click and open, she didn’t even bother to move.

“Hera.” Great. That sounded like Kent.

“What?” She didn’t bother to sit up. “I’m on break.”

That was when the smell of food - some kind of cheesy pasta, she guessed - hit her nose. It was so good that she couldn’t bring herself to be ashamed of how she instantly started salivating.

She peeped through her hands. It looked just as delicious as the man holding it. Not that she’d ever had a chance to taste him. Now  that  was a dangerous train of thought, especially since her crush on him was clearly unrequited. It was pretty clear Kent wasn’t interested in dating, so she’d kind of given up on trying and resigned herself to admire him on her own.

“I noticed you were moving twenty percent more slowly than normal and look at the food you were serving 5 times more than usual. This has led me to believe that you may be hungry, so I brought this for you. Before you ask, yes, Waka has permitted it.” Kent said, setting the plate down on the break table, along with a fork, napkin, and bottle of water.

Hera took her hands off her eyes and raised her eyebrows.

“Wow really? Thanks.” She sat up and took the plate forking a large bite. Letting out a low groan at the rich taste, she wasted no time shoveling fork to mouth. 

Kent was watching her with his usual impassive look. 

“Maybe it’s just because I’m hungry, but right now this feels like the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Or maybe you’re just a genius in the kitchen.”

“Prolonged periods of time without food can cause large amounts of serotonin to be released upon the breaking of such a fast as the body’s way of naturally encouraging the brain to eat to regain the appropriate amount of nutrients.” Kent explained. Though Hera hadn’t asked for the Fun Facts, she didn’t mind this habit of his.

“This is more likely what you are experiencing. Although the taste buds do experience changes throughout late childhood and early puberty, they remain the same throughout adulthood. At your age they would not have made a change capable of such an effect.”

“That’s cool.” Hera remarked, setting the plate down to drink some water, feeling better now that she had eaten. “Just don’t go telling me all the nutritional information of the pasta because then I’m gonna feel guilty.”

“Well actually-”

“Ahh! Stop stop!” She covered her ears and glared at him. “I just said don’t tell me, don’t be mean.”

Kent did something then that she swore she never would have believed if she hadn’t experienced it for herself.

He smiled at her.

It didn’t last long though, because all too soon his expression returned to neutral and he held out the water bottle insistently. 

“I need to get back to the kitchen. Make sure to drink it all or else you will get dehydrated from the sodium in the mozarella.”

Hera was left holding the bottle numbly, watching the door close after the tall young man. Slowly unscrewing the top, she placed the lip against her mouth and took a sip.

Did that really just happen?

 ---

 Blissfully wrapped up in a cozy green blanket, Hera was sipping on a box of pineapple juice from the comfort of her sofa, her laptop balanced on her lap.

Work was over, her headache was gone thanks to the power nap she’d taken when she got home, and she was well fed. She hadn’t fully forgotten about the disgusting experience of a stranger grabbing a handful of her right breast, but leveling up three times in  Riddlemaster was doing a good job of getting her mind off it. The trivia-based game was as mentally stimulating as it was fun, and getting the answers right made her feel smart.

Hera just liked this sort of thing. Finding out weird explanations for things was so satisfying for some reason. That’s why she’d decided to major in psychology. 

On to the next question! Just two more and she’d unlock the next level and earn another 500 gold coins.

  The picture above is a ______ because of 

a) jaw and teeth

b) snout shape

c) both a and b

 Taking a moment to study the picture, Hera was pretty confident the creature in the image was a crocodile. The creature in the picture had a kind of wide snout compared to other crocodiles, but she recognized the interlocking snaggleteeth that differed from alligators which had overbites.

Filling in  crocodile  in the blank, and selecting  a  she pressed submit.

 Correct!

 Hera grinned smugly at the upbeat chirp of the game as she got the answer right.

Alright, last one before she reached level 40! Oh she couldn’t wait for those 500 coins, that was enough to buy her avatar two new outfits! She already knew which one she wanted too. They’d recently released a Summer Festival set that had 3 different colors of yukata with a beautiful floral pattern.

Hera wanted the pink one with the gold hair ornament.

  Which number represents the rate at which rabbits reproduce? This is called ______.

a) x = 1 + 2/x

b) 3.14

c) 1/89

d) 6.2831853071

 Shit. Math, her weakness. Well, there was no time limit to figuring out the answers to the questions, so she usually just googled the subject of the question and tried to figure out what the answer was based on what she read…in the spirit of not being a cheater. But she really had no idea on this one.

Clearly the second option was pi, she knew that much. The first one looked like an equation, but it wasn’t one she recognized as being related to anything that could have to do with rabbit reproduction.

Twenty minutes later and several videos and wiki pages about rabbit production later, and all she really knew was that rabbits were horny and she was thoroughly stumped. None of the articles had even mentioned anything about numbers or math.

Hera bit her lip. She was so close to getting her Summer Festival outfit… and her pride refused to allow her to cheat. But the outfit was a limited time item that would be removed from the store during maintenance on the 15th of August. That was a little over a week from now, but she didn’t have all the time in the world.

Time for her last resort. The oldest one in the book, phone a friend! Well, text actually. Opening up her cell, she typed out a message to Sawa.

 To: SawaiiK From: Hera-oine7 Date: 8-04 7:49:00

Hey (^-^)/   I know u r usually taking ur time in the bath right abt now, but if u have time can I get your help on smthg?

 She opened up the Riddlemaster store page in another tab while waiting for a reply. Using the preview function, she removed the usual outfit her character wore (a greek style ‘goddess’ outfit she thought would suit it, since her ign was GoddessHera) and applied the Summer Festival outfit and began playing around with the colors of the trim and embroidery.

It was good motivation.

Her phone beeped from beside her and she sat up to retrieve it.

  Hera! <3 Haha, yeah I was, but aniki made so much of a fuss about having to piss that I decided to just get out rather than argue with him abt using the 3 other bathrms in the house… -_-

And sure watsup? U were acting odd @work today, u feeling ok?

 Oh right, she had been in a mood to go home without socializing in the changing room like usual, so Sawa was probably still reeling from her pricklyness towards Mine that morning. 

Writing quickly, she replied.

  Oh nah, it’s nothing like that, I’m fine. I was just tired lol.

 She contemplated adding “ of Mine’s shit ” but that wasn’t very nice. The two might not get along ever since Mine overheard Hera talking to Sawa about her crush on Kent, but she wasn’t mean enough for Hera to justify talking trash about the girl for no reason.

  I just need help with a question on Riddlemaster again hehe. (- 3-)’ Its abt math. 

 Hera sent it and sipped some of her juice.

  LOL u r so addicted to that game! But ya ofc I’ll help. Wats the question

 Hera took a picture of her laptop screen and just sent the image file through text. Would take a lot less time than retyping the whole question.

It took a few minutes before Sawa to reply.

  Ok well. I tried but i have umm no freaking clue lol. (^~^)’’’ Neither does aniki. This is probly higher difficulty than normal college math. ...hey u know who u should ask? ;)

 Dang. Well, she wasn’t surprised, considering her googling efforts had proven completely useless.

  Idk, who?

 It was times like these that she wished her parents hadn’t passed away without leaving her any siblings.

  He’s TALL, he’s handsome, he’s rlly good at math, and you now have the perfect excuse 2 hang out with him :)

 Oh. Kent. Hera considered it, crushing her juice box now that it was just bubbling noisily. 

She’d written countless texts to him about all sorts of things hoping to start a conversation and catch his attention, but she’d deleted all of them because they were stupid and the last person she wanted to laugh at her was Kent. Or god forbid, think she was clingy.

But this was actually a situation where her asking him this made complete logical sense, so it was pretty safe.

The problem was, how would she turn it into something that would last more than 2 messages? It would be such a waste to squander this perfect opportunity. Her phone chirped again.

  Do it do it do it do it do it!!! Hera!! No hesitation, get yo man!! 

 Hera laughed at the message, Sawa was probably interpreting her lack of a response as her convincing herself out of asking Kent.

  Alright fine. Pray 4 me. 

  YESSSsss!! Tell me how it goes! It’s time for dinner so I’ll ttyl :)

 Okay now… the hard part. Clicking out of Sawa’s contact, she scrolled down and clicked on Kent’s. 

 To: KentSJ94 From: Hera-oine7 Date: 8-04 7:58

Hey Kent, it’s Hera. There’s something I need some help with. It’s a math problem, sort of. Would you be willing to meet up with me to help me figure it out? I’m free this Sunday.

 Hera re-read the message several times, seriously debating sending it. Was she really going to do this? What if he thought she was annoying for bothering him? After a moment she added on-

  If not that’s okay.  

 That should cover her bases right? He probably didn’t like girls that were demanding. Okay time to have courage.

Her finger hovered over the send button.

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and hit send. YOLO.

“Oh my god I can’t believe I actually sent it to him.” Making a noise of distress, she quickly closed her phone and put it under a pillow. “Ugh, why did I do that.”

She almost hoped he didn’t see it. Too bad you can only delete the sender side of texts.

Hera chewed nervously on the inside of her lip. Maybe she should go do something. Just sitting here looking at her phone was making her freak out. A bath like Sawa? But she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. A bath with loud music then. Maybe BOP bass boosted... and chocolate. Nice thing about being alone was that nobody could catch her stress eating.

She’d barely set a foot in the direction of the bathroom when her phone chirped. Hera was so wound up, it spooked her into a harsh jump.

She slowly picked up the phone with dread. 

“Lord have mercy.”

 Re: Hera-oine7 KentSJ94 Date: 8-04 8:05

I will be at my house on Sunday working on my thesis presentation. Come over and I will help you with your problem. Notify me if the issue requires preparation.

 Hera stared at her phone.

No way. It actually worked? He had actually agreed to help and was inviting her over to his house.

...Maybe she should go buy a lottery ticket too.

 Re: KentSJ94 Hera-oine7

Date: 8-04 8:07

  Thank you so much Kent! I really appreciate it. See you Sunday @12:00?

 His house wasn’t far away- she’d been there once before just outside when she’d asked to turn in some math assignments late due to being in the hospital for anemia before. She just wanted the extra time to doll herself up thoroughly before she got there. She wasn’t a morning person and well, go hard or go home.

His reply was very quick this time. That didn’t surprise her though, she figured he was the kind to stay on the phone until a conversation was finished. It struck her as the more “efficient” thing to do.

 Re: Hera-oine7

KentSJ94

Date: 8-04 8:08

Yes.

 Hera kinda wanted to laugh, it was so like him to respond like that. Well, brevity is the soul of wit and all that.

Looking back at the message history, she re-read Kent’s messages several times. There was this weird bubbly feeling in her chest that was giving her the urge to cover her face and squeal as loudly as possible. 

Hera resisted it of course. She wasn’t a kid. But she did let out a particularly happy noise on her way to the bathroom that could only be described as a giggle.

Sue her, she was a girl in love. Grabbing her chocolate, she made for the bathtub, intent on taking a celebratory bath this time. Which of course, required sweets.

[rageagainstthemarine]

post trespasser pre whatever da4 is. savill and desire finally sealing the deal

"You're making a face," Raya had said, as if she hadn't worn her own pout. With her forced bed rest, and by him no less, he couldn't blame her. There was always a battle to fight, an argument to break up, a meal to cook - and she could do them all again. Once her life threatening injury was healed. Coming back from the dead didn't guarantee a healthy pass. "I thought you'd be happy to have me back."

It was a tease, born more from boredom than any real aggression, but Savill still flinched away from her bedside as if he'd been slapped. It felt like it, too, so suddenly pulled from his thoughts it almost hurt, and he blinked to clear the fuzzy edges from his vision. He couldn't so easily rid himself of the unease gnawing at his stomach. "I can't..."

Raya sniffed, lifting her chin. "Well next time don't almost kill yourself trying to save me if you're going to regret it."

Still a joke. Mocking. But something didn't feel...right. Savill glanced at his hands. He flipped them over. His magic... it buzzed beneath his skin like a faint prickling. Beneath that, beyond the small tug of the Fade at his fingertips was...little else. He couldn't feel like the burn of his blood in his veins and the taste of copper was missing from his mouth. His pulse jumped and there was no echoed laughter in the back of his mind. Savill flicked his eyes up to Raya. He could see the Purpose reflected in her eyes, narrowing and widening the longer they lingered on his face, but he couldn't feel it.

Savill didn't want to know what expression he wore now. He could only feel the horror quickly burning through his chest and the sudden wave of nausea that rolled up his throat and left his mouth feeling numb and sour. He could feel something missing, something warm, something tight, and something strong. He could feel tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

"Sweets. I can't feel them." Savill held his arms out as if he could find them in the scars circling around them. It was a false hope that he'd find a trace of them, physically, but it kept him busy. Any less control and Savill wasn't sure he'd rip his second eye out to get his demon back.

Gods, his demon. Was that all they were to him? After nearly three decades of their voice, their strength, their encouragement, truthful of not... Desire was still there, always, for him. For him. When he was weak and when he was strong and when he needed to heal the most important thing in his life Desire had... Savill exhaled a shaky breath. Desire had given him everything. He looked at Raya again and watched the same realization play across her face in a series of shades. Shock turned to pity turned to grief until she looked away. Savill reached out for her, halfway, before dropping his hand to land on the empty space besides her.

"I think when we healed you..." He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. He couldn't hate Raya. He couldn't blame her, either. None of this was her fault and Savill would have chosen the same decisions if it happened again, even knowing the end result. Because he'd find a way to keep both the important people in his life. He would. Savill straightened before rising to his feet. He could.

"Savill-"

"Don't try to stop me," he said. "Don't worry," he added, hearing his words and understanding what it sounded like.

"You always say that before you do something stupid." Raya didn't sound too happy, but she didn't try to discourage him.

Savill winked and tried for a smile. It didn't feel right. "That's because I'm always doing something stupid."

And this was most likely the most stupid thing he had done in a while, he thought, storming out of Raya's chambers and descending to the Keep's storage in the basements below. To enter the Fade, to find a demon, to... well, Savill could figure out the last part when he got there. The first step was...

"Lyrium," he snapped at the bookkeeper scribbling something down by one of the newest crates to adorn the storage's walls. If the storage even had walls. Boxes and shelves were piled unevenly with foodstuffs and medicines and clothing. Savill snapped his fingers when the bookkeeper remained silent, face pale in the dark and back stiff.

"In...in the back. By the-" Savill was already gone, cloak dissapearing the gloom of the next room. Magical artifacts glowed  softly in the dim and Savill tore into a box more lit than the others. Refined lyrium. In bottles for the mages and smaller tubes for the ex-templars still loyal to the Inquisition. Savill wondered if they were needed for this. He hoped they weren't, he thought, as he swiped an ornately decorated bowl and took the whole crate to less used part of the lower halls. He'd pay for the next two shipments if this worked.

His legs instinctively brought him to the dungeon and he kicked the floor clear of old stray and rat droppings before sitting. Savill poured as many bottles into the bowl as it could fit. The scent of it made his sick. He breathed in deep and held his breath as he lifted a hand to his mouth and dragged a finger over a sharp tooth. A Tevinter blood mage, about to take his Harrowing. This was a dinner party story in the making. Savill shifted his hand over the bowl and dipped his bleeding finger deep into the lyrium.

"You can't just-" Savill ignored the bookkeeper for a second time. Cold made his blood turn to ice and it pulsed sluggishly up his arm and he shivered as the feeling reached his heart, his knees, his head. Savill frowned, deep, as it settled into his bones. It was an uncomfortable feeling and one he hoped he wouldn't have to experience again. If things went right, he was sure he wouldn't. And if things went wrong...

"A lost mageling, hm?" Savill cracked his eye open and curled his lip at the Pride demon towering above him. He'd forgotten how ugly they were. He rose to his feet and rubbed warmth into his arms. The demon tracked his movements with sharp eyes that Savill was more than happy to avoid. He looked beyond it, hoping for some sign of Desire. It had been some time since he'd come to any part of the Fade that wasn't hers. He wasn't sure where to look. "Maybe we can help."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be more than happy to." Savill paused. What was one more deal? He smiled, a soft tilt of his mouth, and relaxed as the demon's mouth split wide, tongue rolling out to lick its lips. Disgusting. "I'm looking for someone."

"That's not the usual request," Pride purred, "but I'll make an exception. Who are you looking for? An old adversary? A grudge holder? Someone powerful?"

Savill tried to keep the smile on his face. "A Desire demon." His grin strengthened with a renewed vigor at the frustration Pride showed in its bare tooth, thin lipped expression. "One who already had their prey. Stronger than most. Recently...ah, disappeared."

"Yes..." the demon hissed. Not so friendly now that it knew it wasn't dealing with an easy meal. Savill wasn't sure he was more than a bony snack in the first place. It was Pride's fault for realizing it sooner. Was no one teaching demons these days to not try to possess the first mage they saw? "There was a sudden shift in the Fade. Not far. A source of power, snuffed, insignificant to be interested in..."

"Lucky me, then, to be the first in line to find out what happened."

Pride growled low in its throat. "Your part of the bargain, mageling."

"Is that what this was? I thought we were just doing a favor. This doesn't make us friends?" Savill took a step back when the growling grew louder. He felt it rumble through his bones. "Sorry, dear, I only a ticket for plus one and the reservation's already been made. I'll certainly recommend you," he added, in a shout, as a clawed hand swiped at his legs. Savill scurried back in a flurry of long limbs and Fade dust and didn't look back as he hurried in the direction the demon pointed out. The direction of a shift in power, Pride had said. Shifted away. Gone. A new panic quickened his pace. Sweets wasn't gone. She couldn't be... She was merely...Savill rolled the thought around in his mouth. Resting. Desire was resting. It had taken a lot out of the both of them to heal Raya. He'd nearly died of the blood-loss and would have without Desire's strength to back him up. He couldn't imagine how much pressure he had put on them. It would take her awhile to regain themselves.

So he told himself when he reached the area Pride pointed out and found it empty. Where did demons go to collect themselves, Savill wondered, turning in a slow circle. His hands entwined around themselves, nails digging into the soft flesh of his wrists. Desire should have been close. Why couldn't he feel them? Sweat made his palms damp and his hair stood on end when he ran a hand through his hair. What would be do if he couldn't find them? Who would he be without them?

A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye made him jump. His legs moved before the rest of him and his heart pounded hard in his chest. A wisp, or something of the sort, wavered on the edges of the flat expanse. Not a wisp. There was too much emotion, too much concentration from it to be a simple wisp. Too much...

Savill found a hand reaching out and he snatched it back to himself, quick, at the familiar sensation warming the air around his fingers. The Fade being flickered, wavered, and Savill felt a faint roll of heat on the back of his head. His hand reached out again.

"Oh, Sweets."

"You fool." Savill was inclined to agree with the soft echo, though with less teasing than Desire spoke with. Whispered with. He could barely hear them and his already aching heart strained further with the effort of catching her words. He tried to smile but the tears beading at the corners of his eye ruined the attempt.

"Look who's talking," he told her, and Desire laughed again, even fainter this time. "I'm so sorry."

"My, an apology? How uncharacteristically inconsiderate of you." Savill would have reeled if they didn't continue to speak with such humor. "A simple thank you would be much appreciated in its stead for fulfilling my end of our deal."

"For fulfilling - Sweets there was never any mention of you...of you dying."

Desire tsked. "Is your friend not safe? Do you not have a stable roof over your head? Have you not heard the welcoming words spoken to you as you pass?" They dragged a pointed, translucent nail down his cheek in a caress. "My dear, you never desired power. Simply happiness and the confidence to enjoy it."

Savill took theie hand, gentle, unsure if it what energy they had left would fade away at a simple touch, and placed a soft kiss on the inside of their wrist. "I can't be happy without you. I can't be me without you."

Another laugh rolled through their. "Oh, the things you could be without me," she said. Desire didn't take their hand away. "Unfortunately, I've come to enjoy your presence as well. A shame."

He leaned into their touch. "Most deals don't end this way, do they."

Desire shook their head with a small smile. "Not quite as messy, no."

"I want a new deal."

They purred. "Will you offer me your other eye? An ear, perhaps?"

Savill lingered against Desire's skin for a moment longer before stepping back and opening his arms wide. "Everything. Possess me. Never leave me. I lo-"

"You desire me. Me." Their voice was serious now, considering, as their shape flickered again. Savill lifted his chin. It felt almost like the first time - but more was on the line than just another sharp word from his tutor and a sharper slap of a switch against his back. There was more to lose, more fear, more impatience, more... more grief. He hadn't been afraid to lose an eye for her. He wasn't afraid to trust her with the rest of him.

"I won't," Desire said, and Savill's heart sank. His arms flopped to his side, limp, and he thought he'd faint with pressure behind his eyes building. "You don't desire possession."

"Then pick another word and I'll call it that! Just don't go!" His chest was on fire, tight from grief and panic and frustration building between his ribs. It eased just a bit when Desire put her hand, flat, against it.

"It will not be the same."

"It doesn't have to be. As long as it's still you."

Desire sighed, a warm brush of air against his face as they pressed closer, hips against his. "You have always been my favorite. I accept the deal."

Savill chuckled, relief flooding through him. Something warmer, stronger, chased after it, rushed through his veins and coiled around his heart and expanding in his chest before settling as a hum in the back of his mind. The wound under Savill's patch itched. "I love you, too."