#i got the last of my presents yesterday and like the palpable Relief I felt

[redrobin-detective]

I hate the commercialization of Christmas centered around present giving, that I am socially forced to buy things for both people I love and people I want to choke on a starburst. I hate the forced, fake cheer around as people pretend they’re being good and charitable by buying overly priced junk just to tick off a box on their to do list. I hate that most of the time, people are too stressed by having to buy so many people gifts that often they just buy whatever just to have something to wrap which the receiver doesn’t even want resulting in a circle jerk of stress for everyone involved with no net gain.

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 4

Am I insane for posting another chapter? Yes. Am I doing it anyway? Yes. Should you message me about how you feel about Spills & Francis? YES!

(Got a song you want added to the playlist? send it to me!)

I've gotten so much love over this series and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that you guys love these two idiots as much as I do. <3

(Feo means ugly in Spanish but it can be used as a term of endearment between [male] friends)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Angst, yearning, 18+ language, alcohol (Spills gets wasted)(Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 3 Part 5 Playlist

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Age: 17

“No Francis I don’t wanna watch this - I’m gonna get scared.” It was late, you were both sitting in his cozy living-room, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

“Why, are you chicken? It’s just The Shining, it's not even scary.” He put it on and despite your protests, he settled and let the movie play, You gave him a pout.

“Okay if you really don’t want to I’ll change it you big baby.” He rolled his eyes to grab the remote but you stopped him.

“Promise you’ll walk me home?” You knew it was one of his favourites. He smiled wide.

“Of course! If it’s too much I'll change it.” He gave you most of the blanket that was draped over his legs and you sat very close to him. He was taller than you remembered him being, having gone through a growth spurt over the summer and he towered over you now. All knees and elbows.

When the room scene came on you burrowed your face into his neck and he wrapped an arm around you, you were so pretty. Your hair smelled so good and he buried his nose into the messy bun you wore. You practically clawed at him, trying to get closer - he made you feel safe.

“Is it still scary?” You spoke into his neck.

“Yes - don’t look yet, just a little longer.”

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

**Present Day**

Pope was holding up a shot-glass full of something and there were shots lined up for the three of you when you walked in.

“Catfish, I never thought it would happen for you feo, but I’m glad it did. Claudia, he’s lucky to have you.” He raised his shot glass and a chorus of ‘To Frankie and Claudia’ rang out before everyone tipped the liquor back.

The burn in the back of your throat couldn’t just be from the tequila, you’d swallowed a lump. You’d forced back the tears stinging your eyes when he dipped her back to kiss her. With her laughing and grabbing his neck they were the picture of romance and the smile you had plastered to your face must have looked manic. Popes eyes caught yours then and his eyebrows raised, a question in his features that you couldn’t quite read but he looked away and left you with your thoughts.

-

You got very drunk. Fall-down drunk. Forget about everything drunk.

“Spills, I think you should stop - you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.” He was softly taking the shot out of your hand and you tried to fight him but his grip was iron.

“St-op t-telling me wh-what to do Francisco.” You tried to take it back but it seemed like the floor was coming up to say hi. An iron grip around your middle stopped you from losing a couple of teeth.

“Jesus Spills, okay - that’s enough. I’m cutting you off.” He held onto you and you wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him but you also wanted to throw up. Decisions decisions.

“I-think-imgonnabesick…” you brought your hand up to your mouth and part of you expected him to let go but he didn’t.

“Take a deep breath, it’s okay, Pope can you get me some water?” He was holding onto you, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and you tried to focus on his hands on you as the whole room spun dangerously. A few minutes later he was holding a cold glass of water to your lips. “Drink the whole thing, I'm going to hold it because if you spill it I'll kill you.” You chugged it down and he put it on the table.

“When did you get so strong, Francis?” Your words were slurred and you felt his chest rumbling with laughter at your question. “You smell so good.” You said it lower- more to yourself, but he heard and the laughing stopped.

“Oh no! Are you okay Spills?” Claudia was there now, her hands pulling your hair away from your face and before you could succumb to the urge to tell her never to call you that Frankie spoke up.

“She’s okay, just need to get her home. You’re okay right, Spills?” His voice was lower, so soothing you could fall asleep to it.

“Hey Frankie, you and Claudia should stay, tell me where she lives and I’ll get her home.” It was Pope, Frankie must have trusted him immensely because before you knew it he was putting you into the front seat of Pope's rental and buckling you in. Claudia was tying your hair back and putting your purse into your lap.

“Be careful please - this is her address, just make sure she gets in and lays face down. There should be a bucket somewhere in her bathroom - water and some aspirin on her night table.” Frankie was talking as you closed your eyes. When you opened them you were parked in front of your place.

“Hey honey, come on let's get you inside. I’m just going to look for your keys, okay?” Pope was taking your purse out of your lap. You nodded vaguely.

He helped you in and guided you to your bed. You could feel him taking off your shoes and throwing the blanket over you.

-----

Someone is driving an ice-pick into my skull.

The light was intense and you swore out loud when you cracked an eye open. You stretched and felt a piece of paper beside you on the bed.

“I locked your door - keys are in your mailbox. Drink the water - take the ibuprofen. Let Catfish know you’re okay when you wake up- he was worried. - Pope”

You groaned.

[Francis]: Spills, are you okay?

[Francis]: Can you answer me please?

[Francis]: Don’t tell me you’re still asleep? What, are you a teenager? Getting drunk and sleeping until 4pm????

[Francis]: Sorry Spills, just worried - can you please let me know you’re okay before I show up?

You could see the three little dots signalling that he was in the middle of typing another message and you quickly called him to stop him.

“Jesus, it’s about fucking time.” He sounded worried and relieved and it pulled on your heart strings in a way you both loved and hated.

“Stop yelling Francisco, I am begging you.” You threw your arm over your eyes to block out the light as you lay there, in yesterday's clothes. You didn’t even want to know what you looked like right now.

“Feeling all that tequila aren’t you? I haven’t seen you that drunk for a long time.” You could hear the faint smile in his voice.

“Yes yes I know - so fucking embarrasing. Did I do.. Or say anything..?” You were trying to ask him without asking him.

“You almost threw up, but if you’re asking me if you started table-dancing you’re good.” He laughed and you sighed with palpable relief. All you needed was for him to tell you that you’d confessed your love or told Claudia to fuck off.

“Thank god. That would have been all I needed. Can you tell Pope I said thanks? Okay, I'm going to go shower for a million years now.” You wanted to hang up, your head was pounding and you needed a few hours of silence and about a gallon of water.

“Okay - see you in a few hours.” You didn’t want to deal with both of them together, not with how you felt right now.

“No Francis I don’t want to entertain, I already embarrassed myself enough yesterday.”

“It’s just me coming and I’ve seen you much worse. I haven’t been home in a long time so, take a shower and do what you have to do and I'll be there at seven.” He hung up and you could have thrown your phone across the room.

Fuck.

---

The knock at the door at exactly seven didn’t surprise you.

What did surprise you was how nervous you were that he would be coming over.

You were literally attached at the hip at one point, he’s seen you at your worst.

“You’re looking much better than you did last night, Spills.” He laughed as he walked past you and into your home.

“Oh god.” You groaned as he laughed, why had you been nervous? You watched him as he set down the bags of what looked to be way too much food on your kitchen counter. Grabbing napkins and forks - completely at ease within your space. “What did you bring?” moved to peak into the bags.

“Chinese - “ He looked to see your eyes wide and the big toothy smile you were giving him and laughed. “Did you think I’d forget you always get Chinese when you’re hungover?” He laughed as he took out what looked to be all your favourites.

“You’re a lifesaver Francis, truly.” You were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you served yourself.

“I know, I’m practically a saint.” He walked over to your couch and plopped down, an egg-roll in his mouth as he turned on your TV and looked for something to watch. This was it - this was how it was supposed to be.

This was easy.

He had come over in comfy clothes and seeing him on your couch in sweats and a soft flannel was almost too much. His hair had gotten longer than he had worn it before he went away and it looked so soft; practically begged for your fingers.

“Are you still a baby about horror movies?” He asked without looking at you, you saw that he had put on some cheesy zombie movie. A big smile on his face.

“No, I’m okay, as long as you check every single corner of this place before you leave.”

“God I love horror movies, Claudia hates them so we never end up watching.” He sighed. Her name cut through the air like a knife. An ice cube casually dropped into your shirt.

“That’s too bad.” You quickly shoved food into your mouth, stopping yourself from saying anything you’d regret but he knew you too well. He looked at you then, eyes narrowing a fraction.

“Do you like her?” He asked, point blank and your eyes widened at him.

Fuck, don’t make me answer this right now.

“Yeah, she’s great.” To your credit, you tried. You really tried to sound genuine.

“Why don’t you like her Spills?” He sighed heavily, putting his plate down onto your coffee table to face you properly.

“What are you talking about? I said she was great!” You could feel the flush creeping up your neck and licking at your face at the lie. She was great, that wasn’t a lie - you just didn’t like her.

“Seriously? You’re going to act like I can’t tell you’re lying through your teeth? Just tell me! I’m going to marry this girl. I have to know why you don’t like her.” He had a little frown on his face and you could see that he was worried, but what would he have to be worried about? Worried you’d picked up on something he’d missed maybe?

“I just don’t know her, Francis, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with her, you know I'm just weird. She seems really nice and I’m sure I’ll like her once I get to know her better.” You smiled at him sadly, you didn’t want to talk about her anymore.

He smiled back at you and picked up his plate, happy with your explanation.

---

It always seemed to happen this way, ever since you’d been teenagers. He’d put on something scary and you would end up with your face buried into his chest.

“Oh god - that is disgusting!” You shut your eyes as he laughed, his chest rumbling underneath you at a particularly gruesome scene. You felt his hand rubbing your arm, and it was such a comfort that you sighed lightly. The words bubbled up without your permission.

“I missed this.” You felt him rest his chin on the crown of your head.

“Me too Spills, I always missed this while I was away, missed you.” He spoke into your hair, you could feel his breath ghosting along your scalp and your heart raced, you wanted nothing more than to turn and kiss him. His hand stilled, and you felt his heart beating under your ear. You wanted to do it, your whole body seemed to tense with want and you turned slightly to look at him through your lashes. He was already staring at you, his mouth was so close.

His phone rang, snapping him out of his trance and you moved away from him reluctantly.

“Hey babe, what’s up?” He smiled apologetically. “Just take a deep breath, it’ll be okay. I’m on my way.” He hung up and gave you a look that said I’m sorry. “Gotta go, wedding emergency.” He sighed heavily as he got up, taking both your plates to the kitchen with him.

You wanted him to stay, you wanted to grab him and sit him back down on the couch and straddle him. Grab the soft material of the flannel while you kissed him but you didn’t. Instead you smiled and thanked him for coming and for the food.

He made his way through the apartment before he left, opening every door.

“Just checking every corner, so you can sleep.” He smiled.

I love you too.

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[bellamyblakru]

For the adorable cliche prompts 49 & Merthur ❤️

oh my god i am so sorry for how late this is. like im months late. i apologize 😭😭my writing drive has been so shit, but i got the random urge today and i wrote like over 4,000 words in one sitting💀💀 i hope this is okay!!! again, i am so sorry akskksks i hope you like it, my lovely mutual❤️❤️

ill add it under the cut and it is right here on ao3! without further ado, i present: merthur + anxiety + you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out

Merlin smiled at the servants as he passed them.

One step in front of the other, the warlock smiled on, ignoring the growing blood stain beneath his tunic. He was lightheaded, growing more unsteady as he walked through the darkened halls of the castle. He could make it to his chambers, he knew, if he just willed a bit more magic to staunch the flow of the wound. 

He paused in the middle of an abandoned corridor, leaning his head against the cold stone of the wall as he focused his power. His magic flickered sadly, already working overtime to keep him conscious. But, as always, it answered his call. Merlin felt his magic simmer over the injury as he let out a small breath of relief. 

Straightening up, Merlin stumbled his way into Gaius’s workroom, and he did not collapse until he made it to his small room in the back. 

He stared and stared at the ceiling, wondering if anyone else could feel the world spinning. He figured he should worry about that, but his magic prickled his mind then—reminding him to sleep. 

So, Merlin relented, and he fell instantly into a restless slumber. 

Waking up with a gasp, the warlock shot up in his bed. He narrowed his eyes at the light coming through his window, wondering how on earth he got here. The last thing he remembered was reading the threat against Arthur that was hidden in the king’s letters and thinking how to stop it…but the rest of the day came back blurry. He shook his head. The day needed to start—even if Merlin couldn’t remember what he did the day before, even as that thought slightly terrified him.

He moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet over, and he tried to stand up. The minute his feet touched the ground, the room swayed, and he came crashing back onto his cot. Merlin groaned at the searing pain in his abdomen. Lifting his tunic, he gently prodded the bruised area that covered most of his torso. 

His answer was solved, then. He must have found the threat and eradicated it, and this was his gift for doing so. Grimacing, Merlin slowly got to his feet and limped to his mirror. Looking over to his left, the warlock saw some wrapping he could use to cover the damage. Doing so, rather gingerly, he frowned at the ache. His magic usually smoothed away these pain and bruises quickly—it was why a bruise never lasted more than a few hours on him. Shrugging the thought away, however, figuring it must be taking a bit more power than usual, he threw on his purple tunic and plastered a smile on his face. 

By the time Merlin arrived at Arthur’s door with breakfast, a sweat had broken out against his neck and back. Panting a bit, Merlin shoved the wooden door open revealing an already awoken Arthur staring through the window.

“You’re late.” Merlin heard Arthur grumble.

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin couldn’t think of a lie that suited him, so that’s all he said.

Arthur turned around. “That’s it? ‘Sorry’?”

Merlin grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes, moving to sit at his desk where Merlin dropped off his food. Arthur watched him tidy up the room for a few moments before blurting out: “Let’s go out.” 

Merlin turned around, an eyebrow raised. “Out?”

Merlin swore he saw Arthur’s cheeks redden. The king coughed. “With the knights. You know, like a hunting trip.”

Laughing a bit at Arthur’s rushed sentence, Merlin smiled. “When shall we depart?”

Arthur straightened up, tilting his head to regard his servant. “Today.”

“Okay.” Merlin saw Arthur’s palpable relief at the word, though he couldn’t fathom why. “Is everything alright, Arthur?”

Arthur smiled brightly. “I’m fine, Merlin.” 

The warlock narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Arthur focused on eating and the paperwork in front of him as Merlin started grabbing the laundry thrown about. He hid his flinch as he bent down, stifled the cry wanting to escape his throat as he walked to the dresser. 

He needed to get out of here before Arthur noticed. 

“I’ll go prepare the provisions and tell the knights.” Merlin didn’t hear Arthur's response as he ran out the door, quickly shutting it and leaning against the cool wood. The guards barely blinked at his behavior—they were quite used to oddities at this point. Merlin nodded to them as he continued down the corridor. 

Today was going to be difficult, and he couldn’t imagine it would end well at this rate. 

Forcing his magic to his core, Merlin sent messages to the roundtable and to the kitchen before he found his way back to Gaius’s workroom. He was sat at the table, head in his hands, when Elyan walked into the room. 

“Merlin?”

Merlin shot his head up, regretting it when the room twisted. Blinking, he looked at the knight who somehow was sitting beside him. Merlin saw Elyan’s lips moving, so he tried to focus. 

“—lin, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Merlin narrowed his spinning focus on Elyan’s concerned eyes. ���Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Elyan scoffed. “I find that hard to believe, my friend.”

Merlin tried to smile. “I swear. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Elyan’s eyes softened even more. “No, everything is okay. Arthur sent me to fetch you. We are leaving, remember?”

Merlin blinked again. How long have I’ve been out?

“Of course.” Merlin shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Elyan narrowed his eyes. “Merlin, you don’t seem well. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more. I’ll tell Arthur you can’t-“

“No, no, I’m okay. I can come.”

That didn’t seem to convince the knight, if the doubtful look on his face was any indication. “Merlin, you are a part of my family, and if you need to stay home, I’ll stay with you. Make sure you get better. Arthur won’t fuss if I make an excuse for us both. Maybe Gwen, you, and I could go on another picnic, yeah?”

Merlin smiled at the memory of their last adventure together. “That does sound tempting, but I am truly okay! Look!” He got up and did a little spin, making Elyan laugh at the dramatics. 

“Okay, okay. I believe you. But don’t think I won’t keep an eye on you, little brother.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Merlin grinned, pulling the knight into a strong hug, his heart feeling more full than it has in a long time. 

“We are leaving in a few moments, I’ll meet you there?”

Merlin nodded, promising to be there on time, and when the knight vanished, as did Merlin’s brief energy. Chiding himself on not taking Elyan’s offer, Merlin forced his legs to stumble into his room to throw some articles into his bag. He double checked his wrappings, and he raced out the door. 

He felt his magic flicker at his movements—it wasn’t pleased to be keeping him conscious and healing at the same time. Sighing through his teeth, he shook his head before smiling brightly at the knights. Elyan rolled his eyes while Gwaine ran up to him and pulled him into a spinning hug.

“It’s been too long, Merls!” Gwaine ruffed his hair when he put him down, a wild grin on his face.

Merlin laughed, swatting away the knight’s hand. “I saw you yesterday!”

Gwaine put his hand on his heart, a fake pout on his face. “You haven’t missed me?”

Merlin nodded, trying to ruffle Gwaine’s hair back, who squealed and ran behind Percy for protection. 

Lance walked towards him with Merlin’s mare in one hand. “How are you Merlin?” Lance whispered so only he could hear. 

Merlin took his horse, stroking her neck. “I’ve been better.”

Lance frowned. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin opened his mouth to lie, but Arthur was already on top of his horse yelling at them to hurry up or they would be left behind. Merlin shrugged his shoulders to Lance, who narrowed his eyes, but they both hopped up their respective horses. 

The ride hurt his side—a lot. Each trot sent pangs of fire through his body, rippling in his veins, spreading a wild, uncontrollable pain that caused Merlin to bite his cheeks to keep himself from yelling. 

He didn’t make a noise, though. He never does.

He stayed behind the pack, trying to feel the magic of the earth around him. The trees, the birds, the ground—all of it magic, all of it welcoming Merlin with no hesitation. He smiled slightly, his head tilted towards the sun trying to shine through the foliage. Hearing someone slow down, he forced himself to open his eyes at his companion.

Arthur watched him, curious, staring openly at him.

“May I help you, sire?” 

Arthur did a half smile at the tone. “Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say his quip, but he audibly, and dramatically, snapped it shut when he saw the look on Arthur’s face—the king laughed, causing Merlin to stare at the other now. He loved Arthur’s laugh. It didn’t happen as much as Merlin would like, but the time he got it out of the man always felt like a prize like no other.

All the pain in the world would be worth hearing that sound again.

Arthur’s amused face looked away from Merlin, assessing the small clearing they just wandered into. 

“We can make camp here.”

Merlin immediately jumped off his horse, grateful for his tight wrapping he applied this morning. The bandages feeling like the only thing keeping him whole. 

“I’ll get firewood!” Merlin yelled, not waiting for anyone to say anything else as he all but ran into the forest, towards the running water he could hear was close by. Three steps in, he heard someone walking behind him. 

He sighed. “Lancelot. Why are you following me?”

The man in question caught up to him easily enough, and then right passed him, looking at the ground for usable wood.

“Well, my magical friend, as you are in pain and have not answered my previous question, I figured I could take it upon myself to annoy you until you broke in and told me what was going on with you.”

Merlin grumbled. “I’m fine.”

Lance didn’t stop searching, barely blinking at the obvious lie. 

Sighing, Merlin grabbed Lance’s arm, stopping his friend’s theatrics. “Look, I just hurt myself yesterday and it hasn't been healing properly. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Lance quickly poked Merlin’s side, earning a loud gasp from the warlock. Merlin looked at Lance with wide eyes, shocked. “What the fuck, Lance?”

Lance scoffed. “Fine my ass, Merlin. If you say that one more time, I’ll throw you in the river.” 

Merlin scowled, while Lance just rolled his eyes. “Now, you’re going to go back to camp and let me finish collecting firewood.” And right when Merlin was about to protest, Lance glared at him. “No complaining. I am going to make sure you’re not going to do anything else stupid and hurt yourself more. Merlin,” here Lancelot’s eyes were soft, “I am here for you, always. And I am not letting you hurt yourself more.”

Merlin smiled softly, giving in and hugging the knight. “Thank you, Lance. You know I love you?”

Lance grinned, pushing Merlin gently towards the others. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Merlin hugged himself as he walked slowly back to camp. If Lance could tell, then maybe he wasn’t as good as hiding his pain as he originally thought. He frowned as he continued, his thoughts moving towards the noticeable silence of the surrounding forest. It seemed a bit too quiet, but he pushed the thought away. I’m starting to sound like Arthur, he thought with a small huff. 

Walking into the clearing, Merlin spotted Gwaine and Percy bent in an intense conversation, Elyan and Arthur parrying in the center, and their sleeping mats all nicely arranged in a circle, so he figured it would be a good time as any to start preparing dinner. Working diligently helped keep his mind off himself. As his thoughts wandered, he didn’t notice the small cracks of sticks and dried leaves coming from the other side of the clearing. 

He did see the shadowy movements, however, right before they attacked. Merlin got up quickly, shouting out an alarm that was just a few seconds too late. And the last thing Merlin saw before he was knocked out was Arthur yelling at him, and then nothing but blackness.

Merlin woke up with a resounding headache. He tried to move his hands, but he forced his eyes open when he realized they were tightly bound. 

He squinted in the bright firelight, seeing many figures encased in darkness. 

“Finally! The warlock awakens.” 

Merlin shook his head, confused. “What?” He said through his gag.

“Ungag him, will you? Let the man talk.”

Someone close to him stepped forwards, the face unremarkable and void of any expression as he roughly took off the covering.

Merlin spit blood to the side before he squinted up once more. “And you are?” Merlin said, sounding bitter and a bit bored. This shit always happens to them.

“Call me Aren.” The man said, the smile heard in his voice, as he stepped into Merlin’s view. He was a tall man with black hair and onyx colored eyes that glinted from the fire.

“Should that mean something to me?” Merlin inquired, knowing that pissing people off was usually his specialty.

Aren’s smile vanished. “We met yesterday. Don’t I look familiar?”

Merlin leaned forwards on his knees, tilting his head. “Hmm, I can’t recall. Though, I don’t usually give many of my enemies much thought.”

That made Aren grin, and Merlin took the quick pause to look more closely around him. All the knights were tied with two or three of their attackers holding them in place. Lance was here, too, so they must have caught him unawares as well. Merlin looked to Arthur next, who was glaring daggers at this Aren man. 

Aren hummed, walking around him. “How is your wound?”

Merlin saw Lance and Elyan straighten at that as Arthur’s head snapped towards the warlock. Merlin feigned confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

The leader nodded to the person to Merlin’s left, and Merlin barely had a second to understand what was going to happen before the man kicked him squarely in the abdomen. 

Merlin screamed as he fell to the ground.

Aren clicked his mouth, disappointed. “See what happens when you lie?”

Merlin grunted, managing to bring himself back to his knees. He felt the blood soaking through his shirt, the color draining from his face, the intensity of the stares of his friends—from horror, or from fear, Merlin couldn’t tell.

“What do you want?” Merlin spit, getting slightly pissed off now. 

Aren shrugged. “What do any of us want, Merlin?”

The warlock lifted his gaze, finally realizing what the man said at the beginning. Warlock. This man knows I’m a warlock. Merlin quickly looked at Arthur in horror. The king looked steadily back at him, no hint of repulsion or betrayal or anger. Maybe he didn’t hear Aren say it, Merlin prayed to any of the gods that was true. 

“Ahh there it is!” Aren cheered. “The recognition. You were quicker yesterday.”

Merlin growled. “And why is it that I can’t remember anything about our little encounter?”

Aren looked to his left, grabbing someone’s hand. “Ah yes. That would be the work of my lady, Taryn. Say hello dear.”

The girl smiled, the expression more wild than not, and did a slight bow before sliding back into the darkness. Aren then watched with clear amusement as Merlin tried to use magic against the bindings. “My dear boy, what are we? Novices?” He scoffed. “We are quite skilled, I’ll have you know.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit who you are or what you know.” A quick pause before Merlin continued: “How about we make a deal?”

Merlin heard Arthur start protesting through his gag knowing what Merlin was going to say, but the warlock tried to ignore him and the unease settled in his gut.

“Yes?” Aren said lightly.

“You can have me, without a fight, if you let my friends go. They are innocents.”

The leader laughed, loudly. “I would hardly call these men innocent, Merlin. They’ve aided and abetted the king of Camelot’s hatred of magic. Watched as true innocents were killed, watched as the king did nothing but stand to the side as our people burned. No one here is innocent.” He snarled the last part towards the group, making them look down in shame. 

“Still,” Merlin pleaded, “you have me, right? That’s all you came for. Let them go.”

Aren’s face darkened a bit, but he still seemed to consider the offer. “Willingly?”

Merlin vehemently nodded, knowing that he had mere minutes before the blood loss made him pass out. 

Aren turned towards Taryn, as Merlin quickly counted how many people there were. Thirteen held his friends down, two were to his left, two to his right, three in front. 

20 people, Merlin mused, shouldn’t be too hard. Right?

He let himself glance at Arthur, who turned to look at him at the same time. Arthur’s eyes didn't look angry, or betrayed, only fierce with a hint of distress. Merlin looked at his King for strength, knowing that if he didn’t believe their captors about his magic, he would soon. And Merlin wanted to remember his face like this—strong, unyielding, protective. His king, soon to be his doom. Merlin shut his own eyes, swallowing the terror of what he was about to do in front of his friends. If he were to die from this either way, at least his friends would make it out alive. 

With resignation and determination pounding in his blood, Merlin opened his eyes. He heard the gasps of everyone, and he knew his eyes were no longer the color of the sky, but a fiery gold. Aren snapped his head at the noise, eyes widening at Merlin.

“That’s not possible,” the man shook his head violently, “the cuffs—“

Merlin gave him a feral smile before the world ignited into a burning white light. 

Landing on his face, Merlin felt his energy quickly fade into a numbness. He laid there, breathing unsteadily, when he felt hands lift him up.

Elyan, Gwaine, and Lance surrounded him, the latter two holding him on his feet as Elyan took out his sword in front of them, Percy quickly joining the knight in front. 

Merlin coughed out blood, whimpering a little at the lack of any feeling in his body. His eyesight was blurred, but he saw Arthur stand up slowly, his hands raised like he was taming wild animals.

Merlin gasped, remembering, albeit slowly, what happened. He stumbled away, his breathing quickening, his heart pounding too quickly, too quickly. He fell, the pain in his side returning full force. The knights tried to help him, but he pushed them away, tears streaming down his face. “No, no, no,” Merlin cried, “I’m going to die. He is going to kill me.”

He saw Lance and Gwaine quickly look at each other, fear on their faces, as they stepped towards him. Merlin sobbed. “No, no, no. Get away from me. No, no!”

He couldn’t breathe. The ground started spinning beneath him, the trees started falling towards him, he heard screams, but that could’ve been himself, as the world crashed into blackness once more.

“aking up? Gaius!”

Merlin couldn’t move. His eyes felt like they had been sewn shut, and his throat felt like he had been screaming for hours on end.

“Ga’s?” Merlin rasped out, reaching out his hand for his father figure.

“I’m here, my boy, I’m here.” Gaius touched his hand, feeling his forehead with the other. “Your fever has finally gone away.” Merlin heard Gaius move away for a moment, only to return with a glass of water. He forced his eyes to open, lifting them to the court physician.

“How do you feel, Merlin?”

After gulping down the entire cup, Merlin sighed contentedly. “Like absolute shit.”

Gaius chuckled. “I would imagine.” The man helped Merlin into a sitting position, the pain in his side almost nonexistent.

“What happened, Gaius?”

Merlin looked past his caretaker, eyes landing on the king. “Arthur? Why-?”

The sad look on Arthur’s face was enough to remind Merlin exactly what happened. Merlin gasped, looking towards Gaius in terror, “Gaius had nothing to do with it, my lord. I promise.” And then remembering what the knights did, he quickly added, “Neither did the knights, I swear on my life. If I am to burn, please keep them out of it. I’ll do anything, just please don't hurt them.”

Arthur’s face fell even more, the hurt shining brightly in the king’s eyes. At the moment of silence, Gaius rubbed Merlin’s back and whispered, “Merlin, Arthur knew. It’s okay, we are all going to be okay.” And with that, the man left them alone.

Merlin couldn’t think straight. His thoughts flew faster than ever, trying to connect the pieces he was obviously missing.

“Merlin…” Arthur whispered, his voice sounding scratchy from disuse. Now that Merlin actually looked at him, the king looked horrible. His blonde hair disheveled, his stubble longer than normal, his shirt and pants dirty, his eyes baring darkness indicating he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

“Arthur..?” Merlin said softly, a question, a concern.

Arthur got up then, and he started pacing. Merlin could do nothing but watch as his king—his light, his reason for living—pulled violently at his hair. Confused, Merlin wanted to comfort Arthur, as always, but as he tried to get up, his legs immediately failed him. Merlin closed his eyes, expecting to hit the floor hard, when he felt strong hands hold him up.

“Merlin! You need to sit down and rest, what are you doing?”

Merlin held onto Arthur, his hands finding their way to his king’s shoulders to steady himself. They locked eyes for a minute, or for an hour—Merlin couldn’t tell—before Merlin broke it with a quiet question. “Do you hate me?”

Arthur tensed beneath his hands, and Merlin’s heart fell. It was too much to wish that this wasn’t the end. Merlin tried to stop his tears from coming, but it was no use. His heart was broken. He felt broken.

“No, no! Why are you crying, Merlin? Are you in pain?” Arthur sounded genuinely concerned, breaking Merlin even more.

“I’m fine.” Merlin tried to push himself away from him, but Arthur held on steadfast.

“Merlin, look at me, please Merlin.” And after a few beats, Merlin did. He saw Arthur’s beautiful cerulean eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I don’t hate you.”

That made Merlin’s knees weak, but Arthur didn’t let go, and he didn’t stop talking, either. It was almost like once Arthur started, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t hate you, and I don’t think I ever could, if I’m being honest. You know what I am? Angry. Not at you keeping your secrets, or lying to me for years. I worked through that all already—I’ve been doing it for months. I always came to the same question, though. Why? Why risk yourself like this? Why help me? Why stay at my side when I’ve been unworthy of that devotion? That question wouldn’t leave me alone. I would watch you tidy up my room, humming, and wonder what on earth is keeping you at my side? At first, I was angry. Angry that you lied, angry that you were the enemy the entire time, angry that everything we had was a lie.”

Arthur tighten his hold after Merlin flinched at the words, and the king started rubbing absentminded circles on the warlock’s skin.

“But, after keeping you at a distance for a week, I’m not sure if you remember that,” Merlin did. Vividly. Arthur wouldn’t let him near him, and he wouldn’t tell Merlin why. But after that week, they returned to semi-normacy. Merlin was unsure what happened, and Arthur still held himself tightly whenever Merlin entered the room.

“I realized how stupid I was. I asked Gaius to tell me everything, not that he did it easily. He refused to know anything I was talking about,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “like I would ever believe that. But after a few days, and countless promises that I meant no harm, he told me. I was in shock for a bit after. Gaius said he didn’t have all the details, and that I should talk to you, but I was scared. Merlin. I was scared to find out why.”

Merlin still couldn’t stop the tears from falling as Arthur gently lowered him onto the cot, the king sitting next to him, still rubbing those damn patterns onto Merlin’s skin.

“Watching you for a couple more days, I started scolding myself for my own cowardice. I started thinking why the question mattered that much, why I cared at all for someone who obviously never truly trusted me. I get it, though, Merlin,” here Arthur stared directly into Merlin’s eyes, not wavering for a second, “why you never told me. Fuck, I wouldn’t have told me either if I was in your place. When did I ever give you a reason to?” Arthur scoffed at himself, still tensed and worked up.

Merlin couldn’t get a word in before Arthur continued on. “And last week, I decided enough is enough. I needed to tell you I knew. It wasn’t fair of me to keep it from you, not when you live your life in such a constant state of fear of Camelot’s laws. I needed to tell you how I was almost done rewriting the laws, how close I was to freeing your people, how sorry I was for being so idiotically blinded by my father’s hatred. And when you agreed to go to the hunt with me, I was already prepared with my speech. With you and my knights, I was going to explain the changes I was making, and I thought that would be the perfect time to tell you I knew.”

Arthur got up again, walking back and forth. “Of course it all went to shit, though, because when can we ever get a break? And, gods, Merlin, I was so angry at you for putting yourself in more danger! What was that? Not telling me you were hurt? I had to find out by some assholes kicking you so hard that you scream in pain! Merlin,” the king turned to face him, walking back to the cot, “the sound almost broke me.”

Merlin’s tears were a steady companion as Arthur took up his seat once more, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “You were in agony, and I couldn’t do anything! Powerless, and terrified, and fucking useless. When you looked at me before turning into white hot flame, I saw your fear, your terror, your resignation that this was your end. I screamed, then, when you closed your eyes. I screamed at the men holding me, at the world for watching this happen, at the gods who did nothing to help. But you,” Arthur shook his head, eyes full of amazement, “You lit up. You burned so brightly, I had to shut my eyes. I’ve never seen such raw power, Merlin, you were brilliant.”

Merlin repeated the word quietly to himself, brilliant.

Arthur shook his head again, his eyes darkening. “After that, you started freaking out. You were sobbing, yelling you couldn’t breathe, backing away from everyone. Even as the knights tried to tell you that they understood, that they knew, you didn’t believe them. Gaius says you were delirious from the blood loss and the use of such magic, and it scared me. I thought we were going to lose you,” Arthur’s absentminded rubbing returned, the feeling burning through Merlin’s skin.

“The knights, Merlin, you should’ve seen them. Elyan and Percy had their weapons towards me, as Gwaine tried to help Lance pick you up. But you wouldn’t let them, saying for them to run, that they needed to get out of there. Lancelot managed to calm you down enough that you passed out, but no one moved. They were ready to protect you until their last breath, even if that meant leaving me behind to get you to safety. I explained to them quickly what I knew, and they immediately moved aside to let me near you. I had to get to you, and I think the knights saw that too.

We carried you to the horses and rode to Camelot, faster than anything we’ve ever done before. Gaius was able to stop the bleeding, but you had such a high fever for days. I didn’t leave your side. I wouldn’t. The knights came in at the beginning, and they promised me that you would be fine if I left for a moment, but I couldn’t move. You thought I hated you, I saw it in your eyes, and every time I closed my own, that was the only thing I saw. They realized it was quite a lost cause and they began to take turns staying with us, each of them telling me how they came to realize your magic. Elyan found out accidentally through Gwen, who threatened him if he harmed you in anyway, Gwaine apparently always had an inkling, ever since the plate incident when we first met him, and Percy said he had no idea, but he knew what kind of person you are and he would defend you to his dying breath.”

Merlin’s breathing hitched, the overwhelming feeling of acceptance smothering his lungs.

“Lancelot was the fiercest, if you were wondering. It took a lot of explaining on my part before he let me near you again. I knew Lancelot’s loyalty was with you, but the depth of it shook me to my core. All the knights seem more loyal to you, it seems, than their own king,” here Arthur smiled, “and I am proud of that, of them. They knew you, all of you, and did not hesitate to protect. I knew I made the correct choice picking my roundtable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Merlin nodded, still stunned enough by it all that he couldn’t say a word.

Arthur grabbed his hand then, turning himself towards the warlock. “So, no, Merlin. I do not hate you. I was mad that you put yourself at danger once again, so please stop doing that. You’re going to put me in an early grave from worry, and I think Gaius and the knights agree with me.”

Merlin gave a wet laugh, “I can’t promise that, Arthur, you know that.”

Arthur’s soft smile returned, and Merlin couldn’t help but stare at the man’s face. This was the king he chose, here was the reason he put himself at danger. Arthur wiped away Merlin’s tears, and Merlin leaned into the touch as Arthur’s fingers gently stroked his cheek.

They had so much more to discuss and to plan, but for now, Merlin let himself feel acceptance for the first time since he’s moved to Camelot. He let himself feel loved, cared for, understood.

No, this wasn’t the end of anything, Merlin realized, only the beginning of something greater.

[jeranasblog]

Let me make it up to you

Summary: Peter shouldn’t have gone out so close to his heat. Thankfully, his Daddy came to take care of him. 

Rating: E

Notes:  This story is my second Starkercest Bingo 2020 contribution.  Kink for the second story: Just the Tip (Bingo board at the end of the post). Read the first OS here. They add up to one story but can be read separately, too. 

Warnings: Adoptive Father/Adoptive Son, don’t like it, don’t read it

Read it on Ao3

Peter knew he shouldn’t have left the house so close to his heat. He had already been out of his mind yesterday, his body buzzing with arousal until he had ended in his Daddy’s bed with his fingers thrusting in and out of his wet hole. The beginning of his heat wasn’t quite there, but it was only a matter of hours until he couldn’t control himself anymore and his biology would take over.

 Peter knew it, knew what could happen to unguarded Omegas because once their cycle hits, arousal would feel like despair and at the peak of his heat, he would climb every Alpha like a god damn tree. Parents tell their Omega children not to leave the house close to their heat. They tell horror stories of teens being bred by strangers, of Omegas being forced to take and like everything an Alpha wants them to. But Peter left the house anyway because he was stupid, because he would do anything to be the perfect Omega for his Dad.

 Everything started with a phone call from the assistant of his engineering professor. She had called him, frantically explaining that she had lost the term paper he had submitted last week. It hadn’t been his fault, the deadline had already passed, but they couldn’t grade his work unless he submitted it a second time. Even though the assistant apologized a million times, he still had to get up and leave the house because no one else could go for him. His Daddy was at work, preparing his leave to help Peter with his heat and his friends had caught the flue, lying sick in their beds. So, there was no other option but to leave the house.

 Of course, Peter could have explained the state he was already in and the assistant would probably have delayed the second deadline, but he was afraid of losing a semester over a stupid term paper. He wanted his grades to be the best, he wanted his Daddy to be proud of his Omega son, so he made a stupid decision and took the subway to college.

 Oh gee, it had been a mistake. People had already been staring at him and turning their heads when he got on the subway, and he hadn’t even arrived at the college campus yet when the first drop of slick dripped down his thighs. Several different Alphas were watching him with hunger, his sweet and ripe scent screaming at them to take him. Peter knew that Alphas were already staring at him on a normal day, and his heat was making everything ten times worse.

 When he finally arrived on campus, Peter was nothing but relieved. Being trapped with plenty of people in New York’s subway, standing close to strangers, was too much for him. He didn’t want their eyes on him, the only person that should see him like that was his Daddy.

 Determined to get it over with quickly, he almost ran to the office. The feelings were getting stronger, dizziness clouded his mind and he felt how his hole arched for his Daddy’s knot, how he produced slick to ease the way. He clasped the second print of his term paper firmly in one hand, counting the seconds until he finally arrived. Slowly, his vision started to fade, and he felt that his instincts were taking over, forcing him to present so that any Alpha could take and breed him.

 Peter struggled but he forced himself to raise his hands and knock on the door of his professor’s office.

 “Oh god, Peter!” The assistant looked at him in horror and Peter was more than grateful that she was a Beta. Being too close to either Omega or Alpha would have been too much.

 Peter didn’t even notice anymore that she took the copy of his term paper out of his hand, fighting to keep the last grasp on his control. He felt slick running down his thighs and a burning arch inside of his hole, begging his Alpha to soothe the emptiness. But he wasn’t at home. He was in the middle of the college campus and didn’t know how to get close to his Alpha.

 “Come with me.” The assistant said, grabbing his forearm and dragging him towards a white door on the end of the hallway. Peter’s brain had already shut down, the only current thoughts on his mind were Daddy and more. He didn’t realize anymore that she was guiding him towards a heat room, quickly checking that no Alphas were crossing their way.

 “Do you have an Alpha?” She asked and sat him down on a couch in the middle of the room.

 Peter frantically shook his head. He wanted to scream yes, he wanted to let the world know that he had his Daddy, but not everyone was open-minded and although Tony wasn’t his biological father, he had still adopted him. He hadn’t talked about being open with his Daddy yet, so Peter kept quiet, afraid his Daddy didn’t want everyone to know.

 “Is there anyone else who could pick you up?” The assistant asked while Peter did his best to stop his hands from wandering into his pants in front of the Beta. Slick was soaking his panties, slowly drenching his trousers and he knew it was only a matter of time until it would hit the couch. “Do you have an emergency contact?”

 Peter stared at her for a second, his brain processing the question while his mind was fighting against the arousal. Emergency contact?

 “Yes.” He whimpered, suddenly certain how he could solve the problem. “Can you call my Daddy? He can take me home.” The assistant smiled pitifully and took his phone after Peter had dialed the number.

 Peter didn’t hear anymore what she was telling his Dad. He didn’t even realize that she left the room, overwhelmed by the need for his Alpha. Every second was making it harder and harder until he finally snapped, pulling his pants down in the middle of a heat room in college.

 The first finger that sank into his wet heat was pure relief and Peter sobbed, almost breaking under the white-hot pleasure. He didn’t even move, just providing his hole something to clench around, giving it the illusion that it would be stuffed soon. He desperately wanted to move but he didn’t have the heart to do so. He would wait for his Daddy, would save himself for his Alpha like a good little Omega.

  It could have been minutes or hours until the door finally opened again, his lust-crazed brain wasn’t able to grab the concept of time anymore. Everything was hurting, everything was spinning and the only thoughts that stopped him from going crazy were the memories of his Daddy’s fingers in his arching hole. How they had filled him, how his Alpha’s knot would fill him even more.

 Eventually, his Daddy was standing in front of him. “Oh, Peter.” He was talking to him like he was a little child, disappointment and pity in his voice, and the thought of letting his Daddy down was enough to make him cry. He didn’t want his Alpha to be mad at him.

 “I’m so sorry, D-Daddy.” Peter hiccupped, crocodile tears running down his cheeks. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, but the assistant called and wanted the term paper and you weren’t there and…” He couldn’t talk anymore, his body shaking with heartbreaking sobs.

 “Shhh, don’t cry, baby boy.” His Daddy pulled him to his feet, wrapping his arms around his hips to prevent him from tripping. “I’m not mad, baby. I’m just disappointed that you didn’t call me. I would have called the college for you. Nobody forces Peter Stark to leave the house so close to his heat. You’re mine. Mine to look at and mine to take care of. Do you understand that?”

 Peter nodded and slowly, his sobs died down. It was a relief to know that his Alpha wasn’t upset with him. However, the bad feeling remained, the despair of letting his Daddy down too much for him to bear, so he almost wasn’t noticing his arousal anymore.

 “Can I make it up to you?” Peter begged with teary eyes. “Please, I wanna make it up to you. Just give me a chance. Just let me make you feel good.”

 Tony sighed. “Pete, we don’t have time for this. You’re close to your heat. I have to bring you home.”

 Peter’s disappointment was almost palpable. The dried tears came back, threatening to spill and he must have looked so wrecked that his Daddy gave in. “Fine, I might let you suck my cock, but I want you to come against my leg first. An orgasm should be enough to delay the beginning of your heat for a few hours.”

 Peter beamed. He could make it up to his Daddy, he could be a good boy, help his Alpha feel good. He must look stupid with the broad grin on his face, but he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t hide the anticipation of finally tasting his Daddy. He had dreamed of this for years.

 Tony sat down on the couch, spreading his legs and opening the zipper of his suit pants. Peter had enough room to crawl between them, preparing himself to take his Daddy’s cock.

 It was a vision. Thick, long and red, standing proud for Peter to worship. His Daddy was so much bigger than him, his cock at least twice as thick and long as Peter’s and salvia started to pool in his mouth. The Alpha’s cock was everything Peter had ever dreamed of, the first evidence of his knot already visible at the base. But the best thing was the scent. Peter could find no words for it, overwhelmed by the desire to take it into his mouth, to choke on it until his Alpha would gift him his seed and soothe the arch in his belly.

 Out of control, he rushed forward, trying to take his Daddy’s cock in one go, but a firm hand stopped him before he could even reach it. A desperate whine slipped past his lips and Peter felt betrayed by his Daddy who denied him his cock.

 “Baby.” Tony growled as Peter made attempts to swallow the Alpha’s cock. “We made a deal, didn’t we? I said first your orgasm and then my cock.”

 Peter cried out, slick pouring out of him from the words alone, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to come right now, he wanted his Daddy to feel good. He wanted to choke on the beautiful cock, wanted to take it so deep, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Nevertheless, he stopped fighting, a command of his Alpha too important to ignore. He sat still, his face ruined with tears, and waited for his Daddy’s orders.

 “I want you to strip but keep your pretty panties on.” Tony commanded, his voice rough from arousal. “You’re already dripping all over the place. Can’t leave your hole uncovered or you’ll flood the room.”

 Humiliation spread through his veins. It made him even hotter, even wetter and the first dribble of slick dripped to the floor. Peter’s eyes widen, ashamed of his obvious arousal, and according to the Alpha’s face, he wasn’t the only one who noticed the mess.

 “Good, sweetheart. Your smell is killing me. Your sweet slick is dripping all over the floor. Come closer, rub your little hole over my shoes and I might feed you my cock. Come on, hurry. We don’t have all day.”

 Peter scrambled to obey, moving his hips until his panty-covered hole was pressed against his Daddy’s designer shoe. It was so filthy, so obscene, a sign of how easy Peter was for his Daddy, he almost came.

 “Just like that.” His Daddy encouraged him when he moved his hips tentatively for the first time. “Rub yourself all over me like the bitch in heat you’re soon going to be.”

 Peter felt the pressure of the leather against his cheeks, felt how the shoe was sliding between them until they were tightly pressed against his hole. One touch was enough to make them slick and he rubbed his ass against them, savoring the contact against his empty hole. It wasn’t enough.

 He wanted more, needed more, something inside him. It didn’t matter anymore if it was his Daddy’s cock in his mouth or his fingers in his hole, just anything to soothe the burning fire that spread through his body. Pleasure was sparking inside of him every time he moved, and his cock hardened, trapped in his panties, and pressed against his Daddy’s leg.

 “That’s it, my good little boy.” The Alpha encouraged him, burying his hands in Peter’s hair. The tight grip made him arch and he let his hands slide behind his back, spreading his cheeks to intensify the contact against his empty hole. “Look at you, holding yourself open for me. Do you wish it were my cock? Do you wish I would knock you up? Keep your sweet little cunt full with my knot?”

 Yes, yes, please. Peter didn’t notice that he was screaming. He didn’t care that his Daddy called his hole a sweet little cunt, he didn’t care that the heat room was soundproof but not locked, he didn’t even care about his disappointment anymore. The only thing he could focus on was riding his Daddy’s shoe, rubbing against his leg until he would come.

 It didn’t take long. A couple of filthy words whispered in his ear by his Daddy, a tight grip in his hair, and the increasing pressure against his leaking cunt once his Daddy lifted his shoe was enough to send Peter flying. He sobbed as he came, the orgasm was bright, hot and overwhelming, but still not enough. It could never be enough as long as he knew that he hadn’t made it up to his Daddy yet.

 “You look so beautiful when you cry, baby.” Tony growled in his ear as Peter fell apart, his insides clenching around nothing and the urge to split himself open on his Daddy’s cock overwhelming. Satisfaction was outweighed by denial, prolonging his orgasm in sweet agony. His body twitched against his Daddy’s shoe, riding out the last waves until he slumped down against his Daddy’s leg. He felt even worse than before, even more desperate, but at least the fog in his mind cleared a little.

 Peter needed a couple of deep breaths to calm down, to cope with the betrayal that was buzzing in his body. He knew he didn’t deserve his Daddy’s cock after going out so close to his heat, but he couldn’t suppress the all-consuming desire to taste his Alpha’s come.

 Once he trusted his voice to work again, Peter raised his head, looking straight into his Daddy’s face. “Can I suck you now, Daddy?” He begged like a little slut, the cutest pout on his face.

 Tony pondered, making a show of denying Peter his cock. “I don’t know. Have you been good, boy? I’m not sure if you’ve earned it.”

 The words physically hurt Peter and he winced, an utterly betrayed expression on his face. “You promised you’d think about it.” Peter cried softly. “You promised I might get it. Please, Daddy. Just the tip, please.”

 “Just the tip?” Tony teased him and took his own erection in his hand, slowly starting to stroke it.

 “Yes.” Peter answered eagerly, his eyes fixed on his Daddy’s hard cock. “Just something, Alpha. Just the tip, please.”

 Tony sighed playfully, enjoying the power he held over Peter. The Omega stared at the thick flesh, loved how it twitched proudly under Tony’s own grip. He watched some drops of precome spilling from the tip, wanted nothing more than to taste them, to follow their path with his tongue. He wanted to be responsible for the Alpha’s pleasure, his mind spinning and his biology forcing him to lean forward, to take the thick cock into his mouth. But he resisted because his Daddy didn’t give him permission.

 “Fine.” Tony decided dismissively. “Come closer, baby. You can have the tip. But only the tip. I’ll take it away if you get too greedy. Do you understand me?”

 “Yes, Daddy.” Peter smiled happily, crawling closer to his Daddy’s crotch.  

  When his lips touched the tip for the first time, Peter moaned, relief he had never felt before flooding his body. It felt right to kneel in front of his Daddy, to take the warm flesh into his mouth. He savored the moment, slowly spreading his lips until he could take the first few inches of his Daddy into his mouth.

 The Alpha growled, a deep satisfied sound and pride bloomed in Peter. He did this, he made his Daddy feel good, his lips around the Alpha’s tip were responsible for his noises. The knowledge was like a rush, new slick began to pour out of his body. He was ready to take everything his Alpha wanted him to give.

 “You’re doing so good.” Tony praised, making Peter dizzy with happiness. “Look at you, how eager you are for me. How badly do you want it, baby boy? What would you do for Daddy’s cock?”

 “Everything.” Peter answered sincerely, his lips slightly touching the heated flesh. He didn’t want to pull back, craving to touch as much as he was allowed to.

 His Daddy’s cock tasted like heaven. Small driblets of salty precome were running down the shaft and Peter did his best to catch every single one with his tongue. He sucked, his tongue dancing around the tip as if he was licking a lollipop. Although he wasn’t even touching himself, he already felt a million times better than before, knowing his Alpha was feeling good and that he could make up for his mistake.

 Peter hold himself back, sucking up all the deep noises his Daddy was making while he fought the urge to take the cock deeper, to choke himself on his Daddy. He wanted to be stuffed full, to struggle, to feel this Alpha so deep that he would be hoarse tomorrow, but this wasn’t about him. His Alpha had ordered him to restraint himself and he would rather die than disobey.

 “God, Peter. Look at you. Sucking my cock as if you were born for it, as if it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re a slut for me, aren’t you? Begging me with those pretty brown eyes to take me deeper.”

 Peter couldn’t answer, his mouth stuffed, so he nodded in agreement, humming an affirmative noise. Vibrations tingles alongside the Alpha’s cock and his Daddy let out a deep moan. He gripped Peter’s hair, a constant reminder of who was in charge.

 “Open your mouth wider, sweet boy.” Tony ordered, his grip tightening further. “I want to stroke myself and I want you to catch everything when I come. Can you do this for me? Can you be my sweet little slut?”

 Peter beamed, eager to be good for his Alpha. He shifted until he was comfortable on his knees, curving his back to look like the perfect little Omega and opened his mouth just like his Daddy told him to. He even put his hands behind his back to show how submissive he could be.

 The view seemed to please Tony because he rumbled deep in his chest. “Sometimes I wondered if I’ve trained you.” The Alpha said while he gripped his own cock and began to stroke himself. The tip rested against Peter’s opened mouth. “You’re doing everything I want you to, even when I humiliate you, and that makes me so hard, makes me want to wreck you even more. That can’t be healthy, can it?”

 “I want it too, Daddy.” Peter whispered against the tip of his cock. “I want you to treat me like your good little Omega. I love it, I love you.”

 “Oh, sweetheart.” The Alpha’s voice was gentle. “I love you, too. You’re my son, you’re my slut, you’re my everything.”

 “Please, come in my mouth.” Peter begged, his gaze leaving the dripping cock to look into his Daddy’s eyes. “That’s all I want.”

 The Alpha smiled at him and patted his hair. “All right, boy.” He gave in. “Keep your mouth open. Don’t move!”

 Happiness bubbled in his chest and Peter nodded enthusiastically. He wanted to swallow everything his Alpha was willing to give him. Tony rested the tip of his cock on Peter’s tongue, the heated flesh burning in the Omega’s mouth. Although he wanted to suck, to choke on it, he was content with a few inches. He would get his Daddy’s come. That was everything that counted in the moment.

 Tony started to fuck his hand, the rhythm hard and unyielding while the back of his hand smacked against Peter’s face with every thrust. Peter loved it, loved the taste on his tongue, and the obscene noise when his Daddy’s hand slapped his face. He felt owned, controlled, and let go, his mind becoming clouded once again. But it wasn’t from his heat, it was the possessiveness of his Daddy that made him go cockstupid. His thoughts drifted and he imagined what it would feel like if his Daddy’s hand would smack his bottom, leaving red marks on his tender cheeks.

 It wasn’t long before Tony’s strokes became erratic and Peter knew his Daddy was getting close. He kept his mouth open, spit running down his chin and he savored the moment of pleasuring his Daddy. Even if it meant just keeping his mouth open.

 “Oh, god. Baby. You’re so good for me.” The Alpha grunted as he finally came, his cock spurting his seed all over the Omega. He pulled back, half his load landing in Peter’s mouth while the other half scattered all over his face.

 Peter was in heaven. He swallowed, already addicted to the salty fluid and he sighed with contentment. He wanted this every day, a fresh load of come filling his belly. He let out a high-pitched whine because he could only swallow half of it, but his Daddy soothed him, spreading the rest onto his face and rubbing it over the scent glands on his neck. Peter preened. His Daddy, his Alpha, was scent-marking him, was showing the world that Peter was his.

 “You did a wonderful job.” The Alpha reassured him, his voice hoarse after the orgasm. “So good for me, the best little slut.”

 Peter blushed deep red and tried to hide his face against his Daddy’s leg. He wasn’t good with compliments but still treasured the words. Contentment was filling him as he sat there at his Daddy’s feet. He never wanted to move, but they were still in a heat room in college.

 They sat there for a while, his Daddy’s hands caressing his head, fingers tugging his curls lightly. The sensation was grounding and Peter relaxed, preparing himself to leave soon. They still had to walk to his Daddy’s car.

 “Let’s get you out of here.” His Alpha promised after a few minutes and pulled him into his arms after he put their clothes back on. Peter wrapped his legs around the Alpha’s hips and one of his Daddy’s strong arms settled under his ass, carrying him as if he weighed nothing. Peter suspected his slick had already soaked his pants, but his Daddy didn’t complain, keeping him against his chest so that Peter could hide his face in his Alpha’s neck.

 He couldn't see if they met other people on the way out, he only suspected that they had passed another Alpha, because once his dad growled possessively. But Peter was happy, snuggling against Tony’s chest like a kitten and breathing in his Daddy’s scent. He smelled perfect, like satisfied Alpha. He didn’t even care if someone was watching him, loved getting carried by his Daddy while he was drenched in the scent of his Alpha’s seed.

 Peter was getting tired, his eyes fluttered and fell shut while Tony was carrying him out of the building. He knew his heat would hit him with full force as soon as he woke up, but for now, he was content in his Daddy’s arms. He drifted away before they even reached the car.

[subtextread]

My mama, and I, are so set in our ways. My mom can’t help but say triggering things - I perhaps can’t help by being triggered by maybe mundane things. It’s work (Work™) not Reacting, and I’m working very hard at it because we are in a scary pandemic and my dad already died this year.

But after washing dishes and saying a goodbye which felt loaded for me and probably/hopefully just flew over her head, I think it was natural to find myself thinking about my dad. My dad had such little access to me - even when circumstances changed and I grew up. He was just grateful to spend time with me and see me. There were times he wanted influence over my life, what parent doesn’t, but it wasn’t the entirety or even a majority of our relationship. I don’t say this as a critique of my mama - she and her side of the family had to do the raising and all the actual work of caregiving, so it’s natural that she also wants a heavy hand in transforming me into what she thinks is right. I’m just saying that there was a balance there. Maybe in safe, well-adjusted families that balance exists with both parents as a unit. With mine it was polarized between them. All that to say, I felt that balance palpably growing up and I wonder if I ever conveyed outwardly to my dad or even to myself in recognition that I appreciated the unconditional nature of his love.

The one year anniversary of my father’s death is in about three weeks. It feels like it was just yesterday. I was writing on tumblr the day it happened because pen to paper was too hard (it’s still kind of hard).

I have hit many roadblocks with processing his death. No death of this magnitude can be easy, but the isolation is unbearable. I will never be able to see my father’s final resting place. When I think of him, there is so little tangible to hold or places to go.

After seeing my mom I ended up driving to the last place he lived when he was here. It was hard. Trying to hold vigil, trying to manifest ritual in these circumstances feels like grasping at vapor, at punishing myself and trying to discipline out memories of places and images that must be somewhere in my mind. It’s also hard because my father lived a life of such transience. His last home in the city was an affordable housing unit, but it’s in a glitzy part of Old Town in Chicago with super commercial streets all around. The building is gated and secured because it is, by its nature, a place people try to access for sanctuary. I was only there for a few minutes. It didn’t feel right to be there, seeing its gentle and cheery Christmas-light bedecked lobby several feet behind the fence while people in need of sanctuary waited outside.

I remember my dad’s unit. If any of you have read the screenplay to Brokeback Mountain, when Alma Jr, Ennis’s daughter, comes to visit him at the end of the book, she’s saddened by the utilitarian nature of his dwellings. That’s how my dad lived too. Is it how all divorced, working class dads with adult daughters live? He had his inflatable mattress on the ground, a hearty and healthily stocked fridge, a TV that only kind of worked, a dial radio, a small closet of pretty chic dad clothes and fancy leather shoes, a lot of magazines and library books. That was it.

I drove around Old Town a little. I could see him walking around there. I could see where he’d post his mail and where he’d board the red line, and where he’d go get groceries.

I went to our old apartment. It was the apartment I was born in, and where my father probably last lived a full 20 years ago. When my parents were together, our family occupied several of the units in the building. This apartment was the backdrop of all of my baby videos and photos. After my parent’s divorced, my dad stayed there still. It was super shitty, to be honest, and at the time, mice-infested haha, but I didn’t know any better. It was home. Its crappiness kind of made it a place of some level of abandon. Once it was just my dad (but even before then), he - and I guess the whole family - had given up on me not drawing on the walls so at some point everything under three feet was just Scribbles, for example.

During that period where it was just my dad in that apartment, I remember a few things - my dad had hung up his target practice headshot sheets (from... work? he was a security guard) on the walls, lol #art. He once made a makeshift swing which hurt my butt and broke a lot but was fun anyway.

One time - ha - I found a tube of bright pink lipstick in the bathroom and subsequently used it to adorn the scribbly walls with a pop of color. I distinctly remember as a kid being like this is weird, but okay. And now, as an adult, I wish I had a camera on me when the implications of my lone, always alone, dad having a random singular tube of hot pink lipstick in his bathroom dawned on me l o l. I was driving down the highway to my childhood home and after being the lady calculating numbers meme for a hot second started cackling hysterically Through The Tears™. My father was just a person, after all. We are all just people. Full, complete, independent people with lives that are always somewhat secret from our loved ones.

I got to our old apartment and there are these two big rocks that have just been there decoratively on this Chicago corner for 30 years at this point. One of them used to be a white/light gray, smooth stone and the other one was a rugged rock with one fully geode encrusted face. I distinctly remember being little enough to climb on them (the white one was slippery, the geode one had purchase making it easy to climb). They’re still there, although now I could literally just climb from one to the other like they were steps on a set of stairs lmao, and the white one has been darkened thanks to city grime ✨. That was the strongest memory of this particular vantage point of our home that I have. All other memories are from the window looking outward, like waiting for my dad’s taxi (like all immigrant south asian dads, mine too was a taxi driver at one point) while listening to the sounds of traffic on wet pavement after the rain.

I texted my brother to ask if he remembered which floor we lived on. He said “wow, weird”. He had just had a dream of our apartment last night. My brother is currently about a half a day ahead of me time-wise, so I think he was both very surprised by our connected subconscious and also perhaps a little concerned that I was visiting no longer familiar neighborhoods at 1 in the morning. But my brother is gentle about this. He didn’t have much of a relationship with my father, his stepfather. He was the first person I called when I was told of his death and he soothed me in all the perfect ways as I drove the 15 minutes it took to get to my mom’s from work. He told me I had been a good daughter, that my father had loved me with the entirety of his being and had lived solely for me, and that I had made him proud and that he had known I had loved him. I wept and wept apologizing that he had to comfort me over someone he had a difficult relationship with, over a stepfather who hadn’t treated him the best, and I could hear him shrug over the phone. He said my father had been a simple man who was constrained by a difficult life and that he had not any ill will towards him. May God protect my brother always, inshAllah.

It’s funny attempting to create ritual, chasing some sort of catharsis or relief in places that felt loaded with meaning, but on physical approach, are devoid of it. My father’s most recent place does not hold his spirit, my birthplace apartment is now occupied by another family and probably furnished up to code. I arrived back to my place having had a stilted cry, a period of smug laughter, a nice conversation with my brother, and now a headache. I’m still stuck in some ways. I’m still figuring out how to process a grief that has elusive, elusive memories attached to it and nothing physical to represent it. But I tried, and my earlier hurt from my mom doesn’t feel all that present anymore. We will keep on trying.

[messymagician]

The Devil’s due

Sarah (Arcana OC) X Julian (Arcana) Follows the main plot story, with changes. Just shy of 4k words. ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 5 : Salty and bitter.

A gentle touch to the shoulder made the rather scruffy-looking magician grumble and gripe from her sleep. Scrunching up her little round nose as quiet chuckles roused her awake. "Mrrrrrmmmm…. What year is it?" She sighed sarcastically while lifting both palms to her face to squish the sleepiness from her eyes. Yikes she felt awful. Not mentally, just physically. Her knees were stiff and it felt as though both of her eyes had been left dry all night.

"I'm going to be heading out, I wanted to give you something before I leave." Asra soothed quietly, enjoying the sight of Sarah's almost childlike waking grumpiness. 

It had been longer than he could remember since he'd had such a sudden connection to someone. But something about her… it was familiar. In the best possible way. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket that reminded oneself of home; watching her little mannerisms felt like a long lost pass-time.

Her drowsiness setting aside eased him back into the present, taking her hand to deposit something small but sturdy into her palm. Standing up and throwing a long shawl over his shoulder. "For the shop. You're welcome to stay whenever you need to."

She didn't have much time to both process his words, investigate the item, and thank him so the latter fell to the wayside temporarily. Flipping the chunk of metal over in her hand before the light morning blindness set aside and she could clearly see what it was. A key. Chunky and unpolished.

Oh wait, this is a key to here?! Her mouth opens to object but the front door clicks downstairs and as she quickly scans the room for Asra it seems he's already outside. Leaving her sitting with her legs dangling off of the spare bed for a moment. A key to the shop. Wow. Her meltdown yesterday must've really had some kind of impression huh. She huffed through her nose, struggling out from under the covers.

It looked like it was just past dawn. Not quite midday yet, the sun still hanging low in the morning position. A few flocks of pigeons sat softly cooing to one another on the opposing roofs outside. She stretches out, feeling her shoulders pop, before getting up and immediately going to explore the shop. There are so many cool things to look at, most of which totally blew over her head last night. She fumbled down the steep staircase and dropped the last two steps in one jump, feeling the last of her dopey waking-up brain finally turn its lights on.

The sweet smell of tea and cinnamon from last night has faded. Leaving a colder, but much fresher, air in the room. Her stomach rumbled hungrily but it was eclipsed by eager out-loud reading of ingredient bottles stored behind the front desk. "Ground amethyst, acorn tops, charmed writing quill ink, powdered pearls… Asra must have collected these himself." She mumbled to nobody in particular while turning a vial of melted lavender buds over in her hands. 

An indeterminate amount of time had passed. Sarah, totally lost to the exploration of the shop's inventory, was startled by a loud knocking at the front door that made her jolt upright directly into the shelf above. Smoothing down her hair shortly after with a grumble. A customer? But she's not the store owner. Should she let-

"Sarah? Are you here? It's Portia- milady said that the other magician had you here last night-" a wave of relief made her eyes almost roll at Portia's little voice coming from behind the door. Briskly jogging over to pull it open, seemingly to the curvy woman's only brief surprise. "So you are here, I owe that new guy some money." She sweetly sings with a bright look to her rosy face. Portia was a lovely little hard worker, around Sarah's height but with just an absolute mountain of messy constantly curly hair tied back behind her head. If she didn't know her and Julian were siblings she probably could've guessed based on their hair alone. "We need to talk…"

"God, don't remind me. Julian was saying that all day yesterday." She cringed, stepping aside to let them in. Her words seemingly slipping Portia's mind as her little eyes got temporarily distracted by the sights inside.

"Wow, this is what the shop looks like? He wasn't lying huh, it really is a place for magical doo-hickeys." Her hands brushed along a crystal ball before she shook her head quickly and moved onto a long cabinet of herbs.

"...You said we needed to talk?"

"Oh! Sorry, Sarah. You're right." She swallows, placing a hand at her hip and cocking her head. "Milady wanted me to come check up on you. Um, see how you were doing on the investigation. You know with Ily- ...Julian." her cheery demeanour seems to diminish. Melting at the heavy weight of her love for her brother and her duty to Countess Nadia.

Sarah felt a sting of guilt and pity. This poor girl has Julian of all people as a brother. Being hunted down must be rough on her just as much as him. "Do you want me to catch him?" She asks gently, watching Portia's expression widen after being caught off guard.

"Me? Why would that matter?"

"He's your brother. And if Nadia catches him she'll…" The words struggle to come out. The both of them feeling sickly at what they already know is coming. "...He'll be hanged. Portia, are you really ok with that?"

"I-.... No. Are you?" She asks back innocently. As of trying to gauge Sarah's affinity toward her brother and her job. 

But the answer was clear even to a blind man. Her brows pinching and turning up in mild worry. "No." 

The previous unease in Portia's shoulders evaporates along with a long low breath. Like the concern never existed, a bright smile pierces her freckled cheeks. "Great! So we're partners then." She winks mischievously. Putting a smile back on Sarah's face too.

"Partners?" She echoes back as Portia's hair flops to one side over her shoulder 

"Well, we both want the same thing. Right? You don't want my brother to die. I don't want my brother to die." Hmm. That is certainly a way of putting it. Though Portia quickly rolls her eyes and looks fed up. "Now we just have to make sure my brother doesn't want my brother to die."

"We need to get him out of the city." The little Devorak starts, placing both hands comfortably in front of her in a streamlined way. "As long as he's in Vesuvia, he's in danger." And as much as the plan sounded good something gnawed irritably at Sarah's ankles.

"Is he really going to let us help?" She asked uncertainty, watching Portia pout enough to give her an answer without words. If last night was any clue, Julian wasn't easy to just 'help' without getting some fussy kickback.

"Sounds like you're talking from experience." She griped, watching Sarah's chest heave in a long sigh. 

"I am… last night-"

"Last night?" Portia quickly interjects, shushing her own surprise with pursed lips. It seems both siblings have a knack for trying to carry the conversation. It made Sarah smile a little despite the topic's contents.

"Yes. He… kept distancing himself. Trying to get me to go away, saying he needed to do things alone…"

Portia nodded firmly, rolling her eyes and flipping a small curl of fiery hair out of her face. "That sounds like Ilya, alright. Let me guess, he said it was to keep you safe?" Was he like this to everyone? Both his sister and the mysterious wizard, Asra, seemed to already know what would have transpired during last night's outing. It only made her more irritated that she fell for it and didn't fight harder. 

A soft look of recognition passes Portia's blue eyes. "He used to do that to me all the time when we were younger. Never let me handle anything… Always shouldering someone else's burdens, while lamenting how heavy the load is." A short pause let Sarah giggle at Portia's dramatic body language when pretending to be 'faint' from dragging the world's problems around. "I mean, it's nice to hear he's still my same brother. And now that I'm older, maybe I can finally help carry that weight. Ilya needs people he can rely on…" 

A spark intertwined between the two as they locked eyes. Some form of eager anticipation almost palpable in the fabric-scented air as Sarah pulled up the key to the shop and Portia grinned firmly. "He might need you. So let's go find him."

"Do you know where he went?" The obvious tone of both quiet challenge and mild intrigue made Portia head for the door. Already knowing that seeking out this Magician was a very good idea… for everyone's sake. 

"I think I might know where he is. Follow me."

___________________________________

A heavy scent of booze and old wood filled Sarah's lungs as the tavern door swung open with little resistance. Inside was well lit with candles that hung in old bird cages from greying ropes. Several very plain and very old looking metal tankards clapped against grainy wooden tables. The atmosphere seemingly inviting them in, a little prepared for trouble.

Low-grumbling murmurs and hushed conversations made the air feel alive. A big, almost stereotypically, burly man behind the bar stood cleaning his mugs. Only stopping for a moment to nod their way before going back to his work. Oh yeah. This is absolutely the place.

Portia also seemed sure Julian would be hiding out here. A firm and unshakable look of certainty to her blue eyes. "Trust me. I know my brother. He'd definitely hang at a place called The Rowdy Raven."  Her round elbow jabs playfully into Sarah's side, which she returns with a small nudge while their eyes scan the room in opposing directions. A semi-hidden spark of auburn forcing Sarah to double-take in it's seat. Sighing as she puts a hand on Portia's shoulder to get her attention.

Julian. Slumped drearily over a table with his face obscured by a thick tangle of indescribably frazzled hair. A tall glass mug in one hand and several more littering the table. All but the one he's loosely holding onto are empty. "Oh boy." Grumbles Portia from behind Sarah's arm. "There he is. Listen, when he gets like this, what he really needs is a good boot to the ass. You want to deliver it or should I?"

"A boot to the ass." Sarah repeats, with an almost cute scrunched up expression. As if she was trying her damnedest to look angry. Oh boy did she have the boot, she just had to stop feeling sorry for him first. He did this to himself and now they were going to drag his sorry boney butt out of it! 

"Alright, you're up then." With a final pat to the back Portia let Sarah approach first. Clearing her throat as loudly as she could manage while crossing her arms to look bigger.

"Julian."

The semi-wasted man seems to jump a tad at the sound of his name being addressed so clearly. Almost dropping the slightly swaying cup in his hand while hauling his forehead away from the table. Looking up with an obviously not quite focused eye. Dazed for a moment before it shot wide open. "Sarah!" His speech was a little fumbled. But then again…. When wasn't it? "You uhhh- you're here. In the Raven. In front of me." There was a note of unprepared disbelief before he could straighten a little more. The collar of his white flowing shirt crooked on one side. "What, uh. What are you doing here?"

"What are YOU doing here. It's the middle of the day!" Portia barks from behind her now taking point to Sarah's right.

"It's never too early for a glass of Salty Bitters. Bartholomew makes a grand one. Barth! Hey, Barth!" Julian yells over the barely talking crowd, making Sarah's cheeks go red with embarrassment. "Two more bitters, would you?"

"Julian!" She whines, quickly re-centring his attention on her. "This is stupid, you're liable to be caught, acting like this."

He sneers cockily, only making her frown. "Caught? Me, caught?" Though within a matter of seconds it dissolves. Leaving only a sad mope. "Mmmm. Good. I deserve it." Just as fast as his mood changed before, it swiftly changed again. Clearly influenced heavily by the bitters. Throwing his arms out in a dramatic fashion. Backhanding a chair on accident that wobbles precariously before settling back down. "You must be relieved. Even if you weren't last night, well. Just look at me now, hmm? I'm all…. I'm all washed up. You'd better get out of here, before I drag you both down too."

Armed with the hindsight of last time, and both Portia and Asra's unsurprised reaction to the story, Sarah feels her crossed arms tighten. Not this time you sad sack of fermented leech juice, she's not going anywhere. Sarah wasn't about to walk out on him drowning himself in drink and dramatic sorrows while he gets arrested. "No."

"I- er, what?" He spluttered, having almost put the mug back in his mouth to drink. Staring at her in disbelief.

"We aren't leaving." She reiterated firmly, glancing over to Portia who gave a small hidden thumbs up to relieve her tension.

Julian looked positively stunned. Sitting in confused silence for a while before groaning and flopping his head noisily back down onto the table. Pressing his cheek into the wood grooves while his eye closed. His voice now partially muffled and very quiet. A reluctant retry at the same shtick. "I don't want either of you two tangled up in this mess. I can't be the reason you get hurt."

"Oh drop it already." Sarah lowered her crossed arms, knocking Portia's shoulder as a signal to chime in. 

"We get to decide that, Ilya, not you! Stop trying to push us away."

"I-" His cheeks flushed red beneath the mop of hair where his face was. Lifting back up to look at them both in a dry-mouthed stupor. "Well, you both came all this way…" turning the charming less serious act back on with a mild smile. "Why don't you pull up a seat? Take a load off. Have a Salty Bitters. They're disgusting……….  I've had five."

His admission of guilty drinking was almost funny. Given any other situation, Sarah would have likely found that statement hilarious and joined him. This, however, was not the time to sit and wait. "Well… we have two options. We can either spend all day here, crying into our drinks-" She gestures down at his mug with her head, raising her brows a little despite the half-lidded glare underneath them. A quiet 'you should they're delicious-' mumbling from Julian as she continued. "Or we can find out the truth, and discover what really happened."

Before any answer could be made Portia jumped in with her own. "Or, third option, we get Julian out of town and figure the rest out later!" She squeaked in mild distress. Obviously not trusting either of them to keep Julian out of trouble enough to make sure he's not caught.

He sighs, running a glove up through his mess of hair. "I can't just run away, Pasha. I tried it before, didn't turn out so well. It's time to face the music.  

Looking exasperated, Portia rolls up her sleeves. "Fine, fine. So, if you didn't kill the count. Someone else must have, right?"

Julian's already red face seems to only get redder before he settles down. Trying to think through the hazy fog of one too many Salty Bitters. "I'm, I… didn't actually think about that. Either I did, or there's another killer on the loose." His charmed smile comes back after a moment. Considering the two little dumpling women in front of him with a silent hum. "Which is…. Bad. It's bad, if there's another murderer out there who isn't me." Catching his slowly rising concern with a side of sarcasm. "Though let's, uh. Let's be clear here. All signs point to me."

"If you mean signs as in; the fact you confessed, then yes. But other than that…. There …. Isn't really much evidence at all when you think about it." Sarah's hands lower from their crossed guard, landing squarely at her hips. The candle lanterns above, and quiet Rowdy Raven style music coming from a small band in the corner, threatening to unravel her seriousness with it's bubbly attitude. 

Portia jumping back in as she leans over the table. "We still don't know that, Ilya! Shouldn't we find out for sure?"

He sits in relative silence for a moment. Eyeing the two troublesome pains in his ass. "I suppose we should. But …" finally the tenderness in his shoulders. A sparkle of victory lighting up his verbal assailants eyes. "...I don't think I can do this on my own."

Yes! Finally! If only she'd tried this last night.  Though, Portia was a huge help too in getting him to back down. Both of their satisfied blue eyes met for a minute before they were grinning from ear to ear. "It's a good thing you don't have to, then! We can all figure it out together." Sarah's voice was restrained from being a shout, but she was clearly very excited. 

Portia interrupts once more, a hand to her lips in thought. "So, if we can't get Julian out of the city yet, what's the next step?" She asked with a little shrug. The loose shirt she wore slipping off of one of her shoulders.

Oh. Yeah. The plan was to get him out of town. They'd discussed it on the way here… but it seems that plan has quickly changed course. Sarah mulled over their options in silence, running through a few scenarios before nodding firmly. Julian's life and freedom was now hanging from a rope, like before, only now there were steps underneath to get him out safely. But how to reach them… what would be the first action to take in proving his innocence. A frustration settled in the pit of her stomach, realising that every which way this happened they would need both Julian's lost memories as well as him being in the palace. A place not easy to get into if you're well known for murdering the count.

With a reluctant wave of her dainty hand Sarah curled the nearby lantern smoke into a quick visualisation of the palace. Much to Portia's poorly hidden delight at the sight of magic but underlying worry on realising where it was. "We should start at the scene of the crime." She roughly pointed to the palace's smoky form. Her ocean eyes narrowing on where she knew Lucio's wing to be. "It might help jog Julian's memory."

Julian opened his mouth ready to point out the glaring flaw in that plan but Portia beat him to it. "It won't be a problem for us, but how will Ilya get into the palace undetected?" She whines, thinking Sarah hadn't planned that far ahead yet. "If someone sees him it's all over."

Admittedly the how of this goal was still slipping her mind. She tried to look reassuring while searching the wood train a in the table for clues before a little candle lit up in her head. If they saw Julian he's as good as toast. But what if…. They didn't see him specifically? What if he… didn't look like himself. Her brow creased with uncertainty. It was a risky spell to perform but she knew she could do it. She had used the spell a few times before… but couldn't quite remember when. "I know some magic…. That might help with that." She squinted, mulling it over before feeling a front confidence pickle at her sides. "A spell to disguise him, make it so that we can walk in without him being recognised."

"What, you mean I'd become another person?" Julian's hair bobbed with his dramatic head movement. Looking up at Sarah and finally letting go of his mug of leftover bitters. "But who would I become?" The question was a dreaded one. She needed someone relatively unknown but in her memory strong enough to look right. Not only that, but they needed to have a logical reason to be travelling with Portia and herself.

A single person came to mind. As much as she didn't want to betray the kind strangers trust so soon after meeting them it's the only conclusion that made sense after several mental retakes. She bites her lip uncomfortably, looking discreetly at Julian's sleeve while debating whether she should tell him who she had in mind. They seemed to know each other, he had guessed Julian's entire talk with her last night… "I can only think of one person but… let's change you outside. Out of sight." Sarah cringed, already feeling her fingertips tingle.

Moving the off-kilter doctor proved to be a hassle as he tried quite valiantly to stay upright. Swaying this way and that, occasionally tripping over his own long boots as they all went outside. The crisp air was clean and cold compared to in the Rowdy Raven but it was a very welcome breath of fresh air. The sky was nice and blue now that it had hit midday. The tumbling trio scuttled away to a damp corner. Dark and out of sight, exactly as they had been looking for.

Sarah felt her nerves knot and twist as the disguise spell came to mind. Taking a deep breath to centre herself and closing her eyes. She just needed to see him… the cloud like fluffy white hair. His shining purple gaze. The ever so slight golden tint to his skin. She could almost smell the shop again, hanging from his shawl. Not wanting the vision to fade she quickly fumbled into her pocket for a handful of indescribable powder. Grey and unassuming. Before blowing it directly at Julian.

The powder shifted in the before shimmering like glitter and fading. Settling onto his scrunched up face as he avoided inhaling for a second. It…. Worked. He didn't look like himself any more. No blood red hair, no silver moon eye…

Portia seemed staggered by the sudden change for a second, staring with vague familiarity. "Ohh, who's that? He's handsome!" She gasps, watching her tall brother twist and turn to try to see himself. Though it seemed to him nothing looked different. Only to them… "What, what? What do I look like?" After fruitlessly trying to spot the change he scuttled deer-legged over to a nearby puddle. Dropping to his knees and peering in with wide eyes. "Oh my god." He stares, stiff, at the image reflected back at him. Asra. Looking exactly as Sarah had seen him this morning. "I'm definitely too drunk for this."

Sarah had to hold her face on seeing his wide and very unwittingly dumb grin on Asra's pretty face. Only managing one surprised snort before shutting herself up to prevent giggles.

[admiralty-xfd]

Culmination

This is chapter 14. To start at the beginning click here.

I had to address “Skinner told me,” my all time biggest pet peeve on the show, because god forbid they actually write a scene where Scully gets to tell Mulder the most important thing she’s ever had to tell him. Especially since I believe this particular moment had so much weight and affected their relationship down the road.

Also, Mulder still has a lot of garbage to make up for. Thank god for S11 Mulder, is all I'm saying.

INFORMATION

(The Truth)

MULDER

All roads have led here.

In the end, all he’s left with is this dank, dark jail cell and the knowledge that no matter what he does, the world is going to end, and soon. He knows the timetable and the method. He knows the truth. And what’s worse, he believes it utterly and completely.

As he lies half naked on the cold pavement of the cell, he thinks of Scully, and baby William. He thinks of a future they will not get to have, a future she will be robbed of. Time they all will be robbed of.

They’ve already wasted so much time.

He hated having to act distant with her yesterday. He hopes she understood why he did what he did. He tries to focus on something good, like how incredible she’d looked; she’d let her hair grow out and he was reminded of how she looked the day he met her. But the length of her hair only brought to the painful forefront how long it’s been since they’ve actually laid eyes on each other. Every inch further proof of time passing, wasting away.

It’s been even longer than it had been while he was abducted and dead, and somehow this has been worse because he could feel the time passing, slowly, tediously.

More time spent alone.

He aches to see her again and it’s the first time he knows for sure he will very soon. He wishes it were under better circumstances but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s glad he got caught. He’s relieved he’s been forced to give himself up. He couldn’t take the solitude any longer. If it means facing the music, he will, even if he hates this particular tune. He wants to see his family.

What are you thinking?

About my son. About his mother.

The guard is relentless. He knows they are trying to brainwash him into forgetting what he’s learned. He wishes they could. Now that he knows, he wishes he could un-know it. The irony of learning the truth he’s sought for so long and now wishing he hadn’t learned it at all isn’t lost on him.

His thoughts drift to Clyde Bruckman from all those years ago, and his ability to see the deaths of others. Bruckman couldn’t live with that knowledge and ended his own life. Can Mulder live with knowing exactly when and how every human being on the planet will die?

What will he tell Scully? Will she believe it too? She’s been through so much, he doesn’t want to take away any any more of her happiness. Maybe they’ll make it ten years without her having to know. Maybe he’s just kidding himself.

Will he even get out of his current predicament alive?

He knows the military is responsible for all of this. The secrets they hold are worth killing for, and taking him out wouldn’t be difficult. So why this ridiculous charade? He wonders why they’re bothering to put him through this, why they don’t just kill him. It’s a miracle he’s lasted this long at all.

The government has used him to help them bury the truth before, and they’re doing it again. Spooky Fox Mulder, ranting and raving about apocalyptic alien colonizations would only help their cause, not harm it.

He won’t give them the satisfaction.

The doors to his cell slide open, and the asshole with the nightstick comes back in. He flings an orange jumpsuit at him. “Put that on, you have visitors.”

Please… please let it be her.

He doesn’t know who he’s praying to, but he hopes the prayer is answered. A few minutes pass. And then:

“...Mulder?” Her voice is barely a whisper this time.

He turns around and notices the guard has left them alone, thank god. He does his best Hannibal Lecter.

“I smelled you coming, Clarice.”

Her face is priceless and he wishes he could bottle it but instead he decides to put her out of her misery and laughs.

She exhales, the relief palpable. “Dammit, Mulder, it’s not funny seeing you put on that act.”

“No, that is funny,” he explains. “What’s not funny is what they do to you in here when you don’t put on that act.”

He’s waited too long already, and suddenly it doesn’t matter that they’re in a jail cell, or that Skinner is standing right there, or even that the world is coming to an end. If anything, that knowledge is all Mulder needs to cross over to Scully and kiss her for all she’s worth. He feels her knees go weak as she grabs his head for support. He never wants to stop kissing her again, but eventually they have to. Goddamn Skinner. They shift to a hug, and he envelops her with his arms.

When they finally detach, he goes for Skinner. “C’mere, you big, bald, beautiful man.”

“The only thing you’re gonna be kissing is your sweet ass goodbye, with the trouble you’re in, Mulder,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that right around the fiftieth brainwashing session.”

He takes Scully’s hand, kisses it. Holds it close to his heart. The way she’s looking at him now is something he’s never felt worthy of, but it’s there just the same.

Soon Agents Doggett and Reyes show up and the whirlwind of Mulder’s farcical trial begins in earnest.

***

After they discuss his options, the cell clears out but Skinner remains.

“You know none of this really matters, right?” Mulder sighs. “This is only going to end one way.”

“How, Mulder? With you on death row? That’s not gonna happen, not on my watch. I’m not letting Scully go through that again.”

Mulder doesn’t want her to go through that again, either. But his options are pretty limited at the moment.

Skinner leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “Tell me what you need from me.”

Mulder shrugs. “Make our work mean something, Skinner. Anything. Everything Scully and I have uncovered sits in the basement, none of it brought to light because no one will believe it. Maybe someone in that room will hear it.”

Skinner looks uncomfortable. “Why would they listen to me? They already think you’re a joke.”

Mulder sighs and rubs his temples. “Now you’re catching on.”

“Well, what’s their angle then? To discredit you? You’ve already done that for them, year after year. No offense,” he adds.

“None taken.”

“If they wanted to kill you, they’d just kill you. I still don’t understand why you’re standing here at all.”

“This is a perfect opportunity for them. They want me to help them bury their own secrets because they know I’m not going to out them.”

“Why? What do you know, Mulder?”

“Trust me, it’s not something I can put on the official record.”

“So what, you just plan to die with the truth? You’ll only be furthering their own agenda.”

“You don’t get it, Skinner. Nothing you or I can do matters. None of this matters. We hold none of the cards. All we can do is go down fighting.”

Skinner removes his glasses, wipes them on his shirt, puts them back on. “I can’t be a party to you allowing yourself to get put to death, Mulder. I won’t just do nothing.”

“Try my case, then, sir.”

“Maybe something, anything we’ve got would be enough to save your life. Right now that’s all I want to do. The rest of this government conspiracy crap is secondary. I owe it to you, and to Scully.”

Mulder closes his eyes, leans back against the wall. “I don’t know what to do about Scully. I know she won’t give up on me, even though that’s exactly what she should do.”

Skinner doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“I know all this seems really important right now. But don’t lose sight of the big picture, of your life. You’ve got an important choice to make, Mulder. Don’t make the wrong one. Trust me.”

He starts to head toward the cell door and Mulder takes that in. He wishes he had a choice. He wishes he knew a way out of this. He can’t think of a good plan because he can’t see an endgame that isn’t tragedy. It’s impossible for him to think about any kind of future right now; with Scully, with William. For him. For anyone. All he can think about is the present.

“Sir? Can you do me another favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you ask Scully to bring William?”

Skinner stops, is silent. Silent for a long time. Mulder doesn’t know why but the dread that lurches up inside him is very real and immediate.

“Sir….?”

“I think... you need to talk to Scully about that.”

He starts to panic. “No, Skinner, what happened?” He walks to Skinner and grabs the back of his jacket. “Tell me right now! Is it William? Did something happen to him?”

Oh god, that baby. Scully’s whole world. If something happened to him…

“What is it?!” The terror in Mulder’s voice is enough to get Skinner to turn around. “Tell me!”

Skinner can’t look him in the eye. He shakes his head. “William… is gone.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. His breath stops. Suddenly, everything they have been discussing seems utterly unimportant.

“William is... dead?”

“No, not dead,” Skinner quickly corrects. “But it felt like a death to Scully. Everything just… became too much, it was too dangerous for him. She gave him up anonymously for adoption.”

Mulder stares at Skinner. “When?”

“Couple months ago.”

Mulder’s legs give out and he sinks to the floor, his head in his hands. Everything they’ve gone through, how much Scully wanted that child, all of it gone. He left for nothing. He’s been separated from his family for no reason at all, and even though leaving was meant to protect them all, he failed.

She must have felt so desperate, so alone to make such a decision. Why did he ever leave? The dangers they feared seem so insignificant now.

He didn’t think things could get any worse. He’s never been more wrong in his life.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this.” Mulder can’t look at him. He just wants Skinner to leave before he breaks down completely. “I’m… I’m going to leave you alone, okay? Scully will be back tomorrow. You should talk then.”

Skinner quietly exits the cell.

After the door closes, Mulder bursts into tears. His body is so wracked with uncontrollable sobs he falls to his side and pulls his knees to his chest. He grieves for William, but his grief soon turns to Scully. He loved their child, of course, but the entire time he’s been gone he felt his love for William through his love for her. Every day that passed, every moment he missed, every milestone she must have witnessed, he imagined it through her eyes.

He thinks of her broken heart, again, and feels completely numb.

He doesn’t sleep that night, tormented by desperate cries and fits of wakefulness. He thinks of a night back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where he held Scully in comfort and security and regrets all the choices he subsequently made.

***

She comes to him soon, as he knew she would. Her hand softly touches his shoulder and he wakes.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

He wonders how many more times he’ll get to hear her say that. It can’t be many. He slowly gets up, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Her face comes into focus and it gives him hope, if only for a moment.

“I need you to talk to me, confide in me, or we’ll lose.”

He doesn’t want to talk about any of this. “We can’t win, Scully. We can only hope to go down fighting.”

“You’re scaring me,” she says, eyes glistening. “Mulder, I’m so scared I’ve just got you back and now I’m going to lose you again.”

“I know what I’m doing.” All he can say is something he knows she won’t accept or appreciate. His eyes are begging her to tell him what he already knows.

“Well, whatever you’re doing… you have no idea how much has already been lost… what I’ve had to do.”

She looks so devastated, so defeated, he can’t make her say the words.

“I do know. Skinner told me.”

She doesn’t look terribly surprised that Skinner told him something she really should have. Maybe she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to see him react. Maybe he’s also relieved she didn’t have to see it. She slowly looks up at him, ashamed.

“Our son, Mulder...” she says, breaking down. It’s as if she hasn’t been able to talk to anyone properly about this decision and maybe she hasn’t. She falls into him, nothing else to do, and the tears come. “I gave him up.”

Mulder holds her, shellshocked. This is an eventuality he never even considered and now here they are. He’s not angry, or disappointed. He’s just overwhelmingly numb about the whole thing.

It feels oddly inevitable that this happened to them. How could it ever have gone differently? Why can’t anything good ever stay that way for them?

“I’m so afraid you could never forgive me,” she whispers into his ear as she cries.  

He can’t bear how much responsibility she’s accepting for this turn of events. She made the decision, yes, but if it weren’t for him and the cloud of trouble surrounding him wherever he goes none of this would have happened. Yet again, he feels responsible for her unhappiness and he can’t believe they are back here once again.

“I know you had no choice,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say. He doesn’t know the particulars but he doesn’t have to; he knows Scully had no choice. William meant everything to her, and even though he was only with them for a couple short days, seeing her that happy was enough for Mulder to understand her utter desolation.

This misery is too much to take. All he wants to do is make her feel better and he doesn’t think he can even do that for her.

“I just missed you both so much.”

She hugs him tighter. “God, where have you been? Where have you been hiding?”

“In New Mexico.”

“Doing what?”

His face is buried in her shoulder. “Looking for the truth,” he mumbles. He sounds so dejected but is still trying to make her laugh, and she does. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s something to hold onto in this dark moment.

She pulls away and they look at each other tenderly. He can’t believe how much time they wasted not looking at each other this way, and now the world is ending and everything is complete shit. The only good, pure thing is her face, so he takes it in as long as he possibly can.

“You found something, didn’t you? What did you find?” Scully reverts back into investigative mode, and as much as he wants to tell her something, give her anything she could possibly ask of him, he can’t.

He’s probably going to be put to death. Their child is gone forever. He can’t give her more bad news.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You found something in that facility. That’s what you were doing, right? Mulder, what did you find out there?”

“Scully, I can’t tell you.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” She looks so confused and hurt, he doesn’t want to make her feel that way but if it’s between that and decimating her completely he has to take the former.

“You’ve got to trust me, Scully. I know things it’s better you don’t.”

She looks at him sadly. “I trust you, Mulder. I’ll always trust you. But look around. I don’t know what could possibly be worse than where we already are.”

“I’m trying to protect you the only way I know how.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to do that, Mulder. It’s me. It’s you and me, together. Always. Remember? I want to know what you know.”

“I’m sorry, Scully.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. You are the only person left in the world that I love. I’m never going to do or say anything I know will cause you pain. I just can’t. I won’t. I need you to hear me.”

She looks into his eyes. “I do hear you. But what you’re saying right now is causing me pain, too.”

He has two choices and they’re both impossible. He chooses the one that won’t mean telling her the world is ending and none of this even matters. All he can do is shake his head.

She takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his, not happy with his decision but accepting it. He covers her hands with his own. When they part again, he wipes a tear from her eye with his thumb.

“I really like your hair.”

She smiles, looks down. “Thanks.”

It seems so trivial, so trite to compliment her hair at a time like this, that he knows how significant the gesture actually is. She kisses him one more time, then takes his hand.

“Try to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She slowly stands up, and he doesn’t release her hand until she’s started walking away. She lets his hand drop, and the cell door slides open, then closed.

He’s never felt more hopeless in his life. He doesn’t have a plan anymore. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. There is no endgame.

If he dies with the truth, maybe she can live with hope.

SCULLY

“I’d rather die.”

I’d rather die.

Words have always been a powerful tool for them. In their work, connecting their minds to each other in a private language, almost a secret shorthand they’d refined. So many words had been uttered between them over the years they almost didn’t need them anymore. One look could floor her in any given circumstance. When words failed them, they’d find a way back to each other. They always have.

But these words have torn her apart.

How could he have said that, to her? How could he not know how those words would make her feel?

Maybe he did know. Maybe he’s given up, on everything. Can she really blame him? His life’s work is on trial, he’s probably getting put to death, and she gave up his only chance at fatherhood. She’s the only thing left he has to live for, and maybe she’s not enough for him.

Maybe she will never be enough for him.

She’s done everything she could to bring him back to her, to keep him alive, and it’s as if he doesn’t even care. He doesn't even want to try. Being alive isn’t worth it to him; not without his quest.

She’s so tired of the quest. All she can think of now are the days and nights she spent missing him, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Watching William get older every day without him. Cursing this fucking quest for taking him away from her, yet again.

She’s always respected the work, always understood the magnitude of the forces against them. She’s always understood the unique position they’ve been in all these years. More than anything, she’s always understood her devotion to him, and she’s never questioned his devotion to her.

What she doesn’t understand, what she may never understand, is this obsession; what it does to him. It takes him far away from her, somewhere she can’t go, somewhere he will not take her. It takes him to a place where he tells her to her face he’d rather die.

He’s never lied to her about who he is, ever. She should have seen something like this coming. The idea he would choose to die for his quest rather than live for her is something she hasn’t had to think about before. She tells herself this isn’t Mulder, this part isn’t him. This is the obsession talking. She hates the obsession now.

Back when they first met it was something about Mulder that drew her to him, something she admired. She was so young then, so eager.

She was so stupid.

After so much sacrifice, so much loss, all she’s been left with is him. All he has is her. What she needs is to be enough for him, and it seems that he’s telling her she isn’t.

I’d rather die.

It breaks her heart. All she needs is him, but he needs more.

You say this is greater than us and maybe it is. But this is us fighting this fight, Mulder, not you. It’s you and me. That’s what I’m fighting for, Mulder. You and me.

The way their relationship progressed has been so unusual, she has no map, no compass to tell her how they should be feeling, and how they should be sharing their pain. And she doesn’t know what to think about how he feels about William. Ever since she made the decision it has weighed on her heart in a way she could never explain to anyone, not even Mulder. The guilt she feels for making Mulder a father and tearing it away from him is only compounded by her own pain and loss. He said what he needed to say, and she could tell he didn’t want her to hurt, but she can’t quite shake the feeling there are things left unsaid between them. It’s much too painful right now to think about.

If he ever gets out of this cell, what will happen next? She will go with him, because she will always go with him. She doesn’t doubt his love for her. She doesn’t think she ever could. But she often wonders when this will all be over; when they can escape this darkness that follows them once and for all. When they can finally be free.

Does he even want to be free?

Maybe falling in love with her threw a wrench into his plans. She may be the hindrance she’s always feared she was after all, just in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Will she ever really know for sure?

Maybe it would have been better if they’d never met. She wonders for the first time in a long time what her life would be like without him, without all of this. She tries, she really tries to picture it.

She can’t. She can’t because she knows the truth: she loves him more than that life. She loves him more than anything in the world.

This is her truth. She hopes it will be enough to set them free.

***

The phone rings, and rings, and rings.

Please answer, Mom. Please.

Scully stands outdoors in the cold, Gibson Praise asleep inside the car. It’s so late, or rather so early, she hopes her mother will answer the phone. They haven’t spoken since she gave William up for adoption. Scully expected the distance to last for some time, and she felt she deserved it. The pain William’s sudden disappearance caused in her mother’s life wasn’t so easily healed.

But she needs to speak to her, now. Or she may never again.

“...Hello?”

“Mom?” Scully’s voice is soft, tentative. “Please don’t hang up, please.”

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. But she doesn’t hang up.

“You don’t have to talk, Mom, and I completely understand if you don’t want to. But I need you to listen, please. This is very important.”

The silence continues. Taking this as a sign of acquiescence, Scully continues.

“I’m… going to be out of touch for awhile, probably a long time. I don’t know how long. Mulder is in trouble. I mean… we both are. So I just need you to know we’re going to have to disappear for awhile.”

She stops for a moment, catches her breath. Even with everything she and Mulder have been through, this is a phone call she never expected to make.

“Are you still there?”

She hears a soft sob, and knows she’s there.

Scully breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Mom… I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you know that. I’d never want to do anything to hurt you, and when I gave up William I did that. And I’ll never stop being sorry for how that hurt you. But you have to understand it hurt me too, more than I can possibly explain.”

After a brief silence, Maggie speaks. “Is Fox all right?”

Scully sniffles, but a smile crosses her face at last. “He’s okay, we both are. It’s just… it’s complicated. Our lives are in danger. The less you know, the better. I need you to trust me.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“They’ll be asking you if I’ve contacted you. Just tell them we haven’t spoken for weeks, that shouldn’t be too hard to do… considering.”

For a moment she hears nothing on the other end.

“Mom? Are you there?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how dangerous this job has become for you, Dana. And I know why you did what you did. You never asked for any of this. But it’s the challenge that God has chosen to give to you both. And I’m relieved that you at least have each other. Please take care of yourselves, sweetheart. And call me when you can. Send my love to Fox.”

Scully waits.

“I love you, Dana.”

Scully grips the phone with both hands and squeezes her eyes shut. She’s just now coming to terms with everything she’s choosing to give up for Mulder.

“I love you too, Mom.”

As she ends the call, she stares at the phone in her hand. She won’t be calling her mother again for a long, long time. She doesn’t know when she will get used to that idea. She removes the SIM card and crushes it with her foot, then throws the cell phone over the guardrail.

Just a few minutes later, another car pulls up and he gets out. In this moment she knows it’s the end of the road. She’s making a choice, to give up everything in her life to be with him.

She knows in her heart she would make this choice every single time.

***

The rain pounds on the windows outside the motel room. It feels chaotic, apocalyptic.

Appropriate.

They lay in bed, holding each other. Their clothes are scattered around them on the floor. They’d both been exhausted, physically spent by the day’s events, but ultimately they were unable to hold back any longer. It had been too long. The aliens may be coming, but they’re both only human, after all.

She knew she’d made the right decision to stay with him; for her there wasn’t really an alternative. The words he’d said in that jail cell hurt, but now she knows why he’d said them. She should have known he was only trying to protect her, as usual. She should have trusted him, like he’d asked. She doesn’t like that she doubted him, but she also doesn’t like how he’d made her feel: powerless, alone. She can’t stand feeling that way, not with him. She hopes he won’t do it again.

Maybe there’s hope.

She’s sure of one thing… she hopes this will all be over soon. She wants nothing more than to slow down, to stop. To get out of the damn car like she told him years ago. She can only hope he wants to do the same.

At least right now they are calm, just for now. Her eyes glance to the window and the rain against the glass reminds her of another night, an important step they’d taken that feels much longer ago than it actually was.

“What are we going to do, Mulder?” she asks him quietly.

“Can we just stay right here? I think I could live with that.” He’s flat on his back, her head resting on his chest.

“The good news is, right now I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“That is good news. Finally.”

They lay quietly and Scully listens to his heart beating.

“Scully, I hope you know that I understand how hard it must have been for you to make this choice. To stay with me. I know what you’re giving up.”

She closes her eyes, holds him tighter. “You don’t know, Mulder. If you did, you’d know it wasn’t a difficult choice for me to make at all.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She knows he’s joking but she reassures him all the same. “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“I’m not joking, Scully. You probably think I am but I’m not.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“I’m serious.” He lets the sentiment hang in the air for a moment. “I mean it. I love you more than I think I could ever adequately express.”

“You do a pretty good job trying,” she replies playfully.

“I’ll try again tomorrow. And then again. And then again. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

“I’ve never been so excited to be so bored.”

The rain patters on the windows. She lazily trails her fingers along his chest. “But…really, what are we going to do?”

“What, you mean about the end of the world as we know it?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know. We live our lives, I guess?”

A thought occurs to her that she hasn’t yet articulated to him. “Back during my cancer I thought about this a lot. The idea of knowing you have a shelf life is scary, but in a way there’s some comfort to be taken.” She folds her arms across his chest and rests her chin to better face him. “Knowing your time is so limited makes you think about things differently. Makes you appreciate what you have more.”

“I get that, Scully. Not quite in the same way you could, but I get that.” He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You do get it in the same way, though. When you thought you were dying, and you never told me. It’s the same thing. 2012 might be the end of the world, but knowing I would lose you would have been the end of my world.”

He’s quiet. She’s not trying to make him feel bad, she doesn’t want him to think she is.

“I was afraid of dying,” she continues, “but I was more afraid of the things I wouldn’t get to do before I did. The regret I had in those moments, that I wasn’t strong enough to even tell you how much you meant to me.”

“But you did. You told me. You were always telling me, Scully. I just couldn’t see it. I refused to see it.”

“And then I got better.”

“And I still didn’t see it.”

She shuts her eyes thoughtfully. “No, you didn’t. But I should have made you see. I should have taken my experience to mean something. Instead I continued to be afraid.”

“I’m afraid now, Scully. I’m afraid the world may actually be headed straight to hell and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Maybe we can. Even when all hope seemed lost for me, you never gave up. Because of that, you saved my life. Like you said… maybe there’s hope, Mulder.”

He wraps his arms around her and she shifts her body to lay on his. Even though they have so little, they have each other and right now it feels like enough.

She leans down and kisses him deeply. It doesn’t feel possible to be happy knowing everything they’ve lost but she is. In this decidedly abnormal scenario, it’s the most normal she’s felt; the two of them against the world. It always comes back to the two of them, no matter what.

You and me, always.

“Maybe we don’t think about that right now. At least for right now,” he says softly.

She tucks her head underneath his neck and enjoys the warmth of his body underneath hers.

“Okay. How about for a long right now?”

“As long as you want, Scully. Promise.”

He’s slowly running his fingers through her hair, staring at the ceiling. They are quiet for a couple minutes.

“I’m sorry about William,” he suddenly says. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

She bites her lip. This isn’t something she wants to talk about right now. It’s just too hard. The name is painful to even hear. She just holds him and remains silent. He seems to take her cue, and stops talking, dragging his fingers along her back.

“I love you, Mulder. Thanks for not dying today.”

“You’re welcome, Scully. I know this isn’t the life you pictured. I’m sorry I can’t give you that.”

“Well, you’re wrong about that. I always assumed we’d end up busting you out of prison and going on the lam.��

He chuckles. “Me too, actually.”

“This part I did picture, though. You and me, just like this.”

“Well, I’m glad I came through in some way.”

“You always come through. For me, you do.”

As the rain continues to fall outside, she thinks again of their first night together, when everything changed. When they made a decision to move forward without fear, and take a chance.

They’re doing the same now, choosing to live, to fight another day. Of all the ways she’d imagined her life, and even with all the concerns she has about the future, she knows what matters is that they are in this together.

Thanks for reading! Back with more tomorrow.

[rawresparza]

Prompt where Sonny and Rafael are reunited after a long time apart?

This is actually something I partly wrote and never finished after The Undiscovered Country and right before I started writing my Never Been Kissed AU. If you’ve read that, you might be able to tell where some of the overlap was when it comes to Professor Barba but I figured I’d rework and add stuff to finish this piece for the fill. I hope you enjoy it!

–

It’s been a year.

Twelve whole months have passed since Rafael Barba had walked away from the District Attorney’s office and out of Sonny Carisi’s life. Sonny hadn’t intended to let so much time escape him. Space, he’d told himself, it’d be best to give Rafael a little bit of space after everything, after West Virginia

(“I screwed up, I know I did. I’m not asking you to forget about it but I’m asking you to forgive me when you’re ready because I’m not letting you go again without a fight.”

“I need you to give me time. I need space.”)

and all the borderline self-sabotage

(“What’s going on with you? You’ve been off since–”

“Since what? Say it. Let’s see if we can get to the root of the problem, Detective.”)

and the trial

(“I can’t just not be there for you.”

“I’m asking you to stay away. I can’t have you there, I just can’t.”)and the resignation Rafael had never told him about directly. He’d learned about it from Liv the next day and Sonny can’t remember ever feeling more like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

Give him time, give him space, Sonny had thought to himself. Time and space, time and space, so much of both have been given and he’s not in any better a position for it. Eventually, he’d hoped the time and space would be good for himself, for moving on, for erasing Rafael Barba from his memory altogether; but Rafael Barba is not so easily forgettable and Sonny had known that all along.

He’d only meant to give it a couple days at the start but a couple days had turned into a couple weeks, a couple months, and Rafael hadn’t reached out to him, either. Every time Sonny had asked Liv how Rafael was doing, she‘d give him that same unimpressed look over the glasses perched her nose and say, “He’d be better if you asked him that yourself.”He hadn’t. Sonny doesn’t know whether he’d made the choice not to out of hurt or pure stubbornness. Maybe he’d hoped it was all one big game of chicken, Rafael would break first and then Sonny could tease him about it for the rest of their happy lives because one day, it would become an anecdote designed for people who asked them how they got together.

He’d been wrong. It’s been agony.

The days still feel emptier in Rafael’s absence. Sonny misses hearing that low voice, melodic in its cadence and soothing to the ear; he misses the blatant ignorance of personal space, the mutual game they’d played of toeing the line of how far they could go without making actual physical contact with each other. An accidental (or maybe not so accidental) brush of their fingers had been tantamount to sexual intimacy, the tension between them so palpable and thick, Sonny had always been near paranoid they’d be called out on it in the middle of a meeting. He wants that back. He can’t, he can’t have it, not what they’d had; but as he stares at a photo of Rafael on his phone, a candid one he’d taken ages ago after Arielle had ended their relationship with a single telephone call and they’d gone out for a drink together after work, Sonny thinks about what they could have now. They wouldn’t have to tiptoe around each other anymore, not with the conflict of interest keeping them apart very much out of the way. That’s hardly the only thing that’d been an obstacle, of course, they’d both made mistakes when it came to figuring out what they meant to each other, but Rafael is the one who’d walked away for good. Sonny wishes that could be enough to turn his back on this, on feelings that he’s carried with him for so many years, but it’s not so easy to turn that off. Even if he thought he could, Sonny knows he’d never be able to do it on his own.

Closure.

They’d never gotten it with each other. if Sonny could build up that courage, say the things he’s said to Rafael but only in dreams, he’d know for sure. He thinks he’d at least be able to find some peace. After Arielle had left him, Sonny had felt a distinct sense of relief, which in turn had spurred an onset of guilt because he knows that even when they’d been together, he hadn’t been faithful to her, not emotionally. He’s been forgiven for it in confession but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven himself. Sonny had let Rafael get under his skin, into his heart, and even after twelve months gone, the man is still there. When he closes his eyes at night, Sonny’s mind taunts him with every manner of “what if” scenario it can come up with, and it’s not every day but it’s enough that he still looks at Stone with a faint level of resentment that should’ve retired itself a long time ago. It shouldn’t be this hard, Sonny thinks, but he hasn’t even been able to fully convince himself that’s the truth. Some days, he catches Liv talking to Stone with a faraway look on her face, like she knows the brick wall she’s talking to would’ve been much more pliable had it belonged to someone else. They meet eyes sometimes, a silent acknowledgment of what they’d lost passing between them, even though Sonny has never once admitted to her out loud that his feelings for Rafael have always run deeper than respect and admiration for a colleague. She’d known, she’d known for a long time, and she’s hinted to him as recently as yesterday that Rafael would probably appreciate a familiar face going to visit him. “The semester’s starting tomorrow at NYU,” she’d commented, and it’d sound off-handed to anyone else listening, but Sonny had known better. “He’s nervous. I’d stop over to say hello, but I’m buried in paperwork. Too bad.”So that’s how Sonny had ended up here at NYU Law, with a paper bag filled with Rafael’s favorite Chinese take-out, the same dishes they’d shared the last time they’d dined together at One Hogan Place, poring over files for a case Sonny had proudly helped him win. The second he’d stepped foot on campus, he’d immediately felt a sense of dread so strong he’d been tempted to give up on his mission and eat the whole damn bag of food himself. He barely remembers how he’d ended up outside the doors to Rafael’s class, it’s like his feet had carried him here against his will and better judgment, but here he stands and even though he has every chance to walk away, Sonny knows there’s no going back.

He’d hoped to slip into the lecture hall unnoticed, to remain a fly on the wall so he can observe Rafael teach because he still can’t quite picture it. Rafael Barba, the man who’d barely been able to stomach being shadowed at first, a lecturer? Even if he’d had no other motive for being here, Sonny would’ve come to see that alone. His plan is derailed by the scrape of the heavy mahogany door against old tile that prompts every head in the room to turn to look at him, some expressions noting annoyance and others relief that might’ve been a little bit hilarious if Sonny weren’t currently flushing red with mortification. His eyes search the curious faces of the students still watching him until they find Rafael, at the head of the class, sitting at the edge of his desk with his mouth forming a perfect “O.” This image of him is perfect. It almost makes it seem as if no time has passed at all because Sonny knows that posture, the tilt of one shoulder above the other and the quizzical expression and the way those eyes shine in the sunlight that hits him just right.

There are hints to what’s changed, of course: Rafael’s face looks a little slimmer, Sonny notes, and the three-piece suit is absent in favor of a simple blue button-up that complements his sun-kissed skin and what looks to be a wool tie, paired with well-fitting jeans that just slightly emphasize the still present belly that Sonny has imagined exploring with his fingertips and mouth more than once. Rafael looks good, healthy, somehow better than he had since the last time Sonny had seen him. Even from the back of the room, Sonny can see the patches of gray that have grown a little longer, a little more noticeable. He looks every part the college professor, it’s uncanny, and Sonny nearly drops the paper bag of food in his hand until he manages to stop staring and slip into an empty seat. Rafael, for his part, manages to recover perfectly, as if Sonny’s grand entrance hadn’t affected him at all. For a moment, Sonny lets himself worry over whether there might actually be some truth to that.“Okay, as I was saying: near the end of our semester, each of you will pair up with another student and choose a case that did not result in a guilty verdict. It’ll be your jobs to convince me why the verdict should be overturned. I’ll only say this once: my case is off limits. Don’t be the funny guy who tries to pull it off. This project is worth fifty percent of your grade and if you try to be that funny guy, you’ll be asked to leave and stay gone. I will fail you out of this class no matter how well you were doing. Are we clear on that?”A wave of affirmative murmurs sound from the students around him but all Sonny can do is cringe, sickened by the thought of anyone trying to catch Rafael off-guard with a presentation of his own case. It’s a fair warning, one that likely needs to be given, which is disappointing in itself. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hand still gripping the take-out bag and now tightly enough his knuckles turn white, as he considers the fact that he has questions about the case himself that he’d never had the chance to ask. Maybe he’ll still get a chance, or maybe Rafael will just tell him to get the hell out of his face. “Good.” Rafael pauses, his gaze briefly landing on Sonny again before he clears his throat and pushes himself off his desk, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re running a little early but it’s the first day, I’ll be generous. First two chapters of the book by next session, be ready to discuss. Class dismissed.”Rafael turns his back on the class and, subsequently, Sonny, who waits until the shuffling of papers turns into the shuffling of footsteps and eventually, that damn door groans back into place with the exit of the last student and they’re left alone. His back is still turned but Rafael has stopped moving, the curve of his shoulders tense, like he’s ready to turn around but can’t find the strength to do it. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sonny makes his choice, standing from his seat and crossing the room until he’s standing close enough behind Rafael to smell the familiar scent of sandalwood and fresh soap that he hadn’t even realized he’d missed so much until right this second. “I don’t even get a ‘hi’?” Sonny asks. His tone isn’t mocking, not sarcastic, it’s just barely teasing, but Rafael finally turns to face him with an unexpected, mildly pained expression and a sad smile. Letting out a deep breath, Rafael sighs, “Hi.” He swallows, eyes darting between his shoes and Sonny. “I didn’t expect to see you.”“Today?”Rafael shrugs. “Or ever. It’s been awhile.”“You could’ve called.”“You could have, too.”“I wanted to.”Rafael seems to take that at face value and nods. Sonny had expected more of a fight; he can’t decide yet whether or not this is better. “So did I.”“Well, I’m here now,” Sonny says, giving the nearly forgotten bag in his hand a little shake. “I brought your favorites.”“You remembered?”“Of course I did.” Sonny tilts his head, searching Rafael’s eyes, though he’s not sure what he expects to find. “Rafael, of course I did. It’s been a year, not sixty.”“A year is still a long time,” Rafael all but murmurs, turning back to the mess of folders and papers on his desk. Sonny doesn’t even understand how Rafael could’ve made such a big mess during the course of an introductory first day of class, but he doesn’t say anything about it and anyway, it’s no different than the typical state of his desk at One Hogan. He lets Rafael gather his things, watching the rise and fall and twist of his shoulders, wanting so desperately to reach out to smooth away the tension still present there. Instead, he stands still, practically holding his breath until Rafael’s briefcase is packed and there’s nothing left to do but leave. “My office isn’t as big as the old one was,” Rafael finally says, a small, good-natured smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s familiar. The wave of relief that washes over Sonny is so strong, it nearly knocks him over. “But if you don’t mind the close quarters, I’ve got a couple hours before I need to be anywhere else.”

“Trust me,” Sonny says, “I don’t mind at all.”

—Rafael is right, the office is smaller, much smaller, so small that Sonny isn’t even certain they’ll both fit into it comfortably until he’s found a seat in a chair close enough to Rafael’s their knees touch when they both sit. “Is this an office or a utility closet?” Sonny asks, laughing when he earns himself a patented eye roll. “I warned you,” Rafael counters, snatching the bag of food out of Sonny’s hands and setting it down on what just barely passes a desk. He removes the food from the bag item by item, inspecting every dish with a nod of approval before moving on to the next one, a line of concentration creasing his brow and his tongue just slighting protruding from between his lips. It’s a look Sonny had last seen directed at case files and with a quick glance around the office, walls lined with bookshelves already stacked ceiling to floor with various titles he barely recognizes, he’s reminded of how much Rafael’s life has changed over the last year. His own had felt different because it’d been lacking this man; but for Rafael, it hadn’t just been a missing few conversations. It’d been everything. “So how’s it going with Stone?” Rafael asks. “Liv says it took some adjusting at first but last I talked to her, it sounded like things had settled down.”“He’s not you,” Sonny tells him simply, and the silence that falls between them both is and isn’t unexpected.

Rafael is the first to break, reaching for a pair of chopsticks as he forces a weak smile. “That’s probably for the best.”

Sonny wants to argue with that. He wants to get to his feet and shout that Rafael is wrong, that there could never be anyone like him and that’s not a good thing and he shouldn’t have left the squad behind, he shouldn’t have left Sonny behind. The temptation is there, it’s strong, but it fades at the sight of Rafael’s downcast eyes and hunched shoulders. Yes, he looks good, but he also looks tired, in a different kind of way than when everything had gone down. This isn’t just fatigue, it’s a general wariness, a heaviness that Sonny isn’t sure ever really goes away.

“I’ve missed you.”

Rafael looks up sharply, chopsticks held halfway to parted lips. Sonny hadn’t meant to say it, not out loud, at least not yet. He’d come here in hopes to mend this broken thing between them, to start fresh without starting over, even it meant they’d need to move slowly.

But he’s spent the better part of the last year denying his feelings—hell, he’s been doing that since the day they’d met

“I try not to think about you but I do,” he says, the confession spilling out of him.

Rafael says nothing, just calmly sets his chopsticks down, but the simple action almost makes Sonny feel like he’s on the wrong side of an interrogation room. His words come faster, as if he’s running against a clock and if he doesn’t get out everything he needs to say, Rafael will have him booted from the room without a second thought.

“We were headed somewhere, you and me, before everything went down. You can try to deny but I know you felt it, too.” Sonny pauses, realizing in the split second he does that he’s offering up Rafael the chance to put a stop to this, to keep him from humiliating himself, but Rafael only watches him with a too blank expression. “Things were messy but they were getting better. I thought they were. Then you left and you didn’t say a damn thing about it to me, Rafael. I tried to forget about you but you’re always there. Always. Sometimes I still almost dial your number to ask you about cases we’re working on, or to ask if you want me to bring you coffee, or just to tell you I’ve been thinking about you and I wish things could go back to the way they were before we stopped talking for a year.”

He’s breathing harder now, nearly out of breath from an unplanned speech that doesn’t sound as great as he’d hoped it would now that he runs it back in his head. At some point, Sonny had fixed his gaze on one of the egg rolls laid out on the table but he forces himself to look up at Rafael, his stomach churning over the thought of how horribly this could end.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

Sonny hears Rafael’s voice, he hears those words, but the corners of his mouth turn downward into a puzzled frown because he can’t make sense of it.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because I didn’t want to see me, mostly,” Rafael admits. He bites down on his lip, so hard Sonny thinks he might draw blood, then runs a hand over his stubbled cheek. “After the trial, I realized I didn’t like the person I’d become. I felt jaded, you know? And I’ve been jaded for years but not like that. Something didn’t feel right anymore, the job didn’t give me what I needed anymore. I didn’t intend to leave at first, Sonny, I really didn’t. I thought I could be the guy who stuck it out through anything but I wasn’t. I’m not. I think… I think a big part of me was too afraid to tell you that. You’ve always looked at me like I was so much more than I really am, I was too selfish to risk losing that.”

“So you just walked away?” Sonny doesn’t mean for the question to come out sounding like it does. It’s just that he hadn’t expected this, he hadn’t expected Rafael to tell him the only reason he’d left without a word was to preserve the way Sonny had viewed him. Sonny can’t deny that he’s always seen Rafael as someone larger than life, someone who’d seemed capable of anything and even when he wasn’t, he still held his head high and stayed ready to take on the next impossible task.

“I didn’t think I’d let things go between us for so long,” Rafael says. “Every time I thought about calling, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There’s so much I wanted to say to you, I still do, but I felt like a different person after the trial. I wanted to be myself for you but I didn’t know how.”

Feeling like he’d lost that drive must have been such a blow to Rafael. It hurts Sonny to know that, it makes his chest tight, makes him want to take Rafael’s hand in his own right now and god, he’s gone and done it. He’s holding Rafael’s hand and Rafael isn’t pulling away and the rest of the world seems to fade around them. Sonny traces one of the veins on the back of Rafael’s hand with his thumb, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. He’s relieved when Rafael melts into the touch, eyes fluttering shut at the first physical contact between them in over a year. It’s more satisfying than anything Sonny could have hoped for in making this trip. If nothing else, this moment is worth it all.

“I couldn’t let another day go by without seeing you,” Sonny tells him. He watches Rafael’s bottom lip tremble then steady. “I came because I thought maybe we could both get some closure but come on, Rafael. Nothing’s changed, not really, not between us. Nothing’s ever going to change. I am always going to want you.”

Rafael sighs, though there seems to be a spark of hope behind his uncertainty. “So what, you want to start over?”

“No,” Sonny tells him, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in Rafael’s eyes. “No, Rafael, I want to pick up where we left off. I don’t need to start over, I already know how exactly I feel about you. What I want to do is take you out then take you home with me so I can make sure you know, too.”

A smile blooms over Rafael’s face, reaching his eyes and making him look ten years younger in no time at all. He nods, squeezing Sonny’s hand. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

“I think I do,” Sonny says, brushing his lips over Rafael’s knuckles. “So let’s not waste any more time.”

[flatsuke]

are requests still open? :D I would like to request for a Keisuke Shijo fluff/nsfw (*´꒳`*) he's from Liar! Office deception(: he's such a babe but there's currently no fanfic for him yet coz.. he's pretty new? If you haven't played the game yet, then I would like to request for a eisuke/ota fluff(*´꒳`*). Thank you! You're an amazing writer(: all the best💜

Hi anon! Unfortunately, I haven’t played Liar yet, so I chose to write some Eisuke fluff instead (I hope you don’t mind). Thank you for the compliment and I hope you like this ^^!

Title: tête-à-tête

Summary: Eisuke can’t keep his eyes to himself, while she makes a mistake that’d seemingly jeopardize her. It doesn’t.

Genre:  Fluff, Romance

Pairing:  MC/Eisuke

a/n: this fic is based on this post i made a while back lmao. i’m kinda proud of turning a shitpost into an actual fic :’) also, eisuke and mc are dorks.

@maidofstars @2bedroom-baddestbidderlove @bolt8826

@ada254 (THANK YOU FOR YOUR IDEAS IN THE TAGS!!)

“This is a pain,” Luke said, moping. “I came all the wayhere only to find out MC isn’t here yet.”

“You do know that you’re required to be here for auctionmeetings, right?” Eisuke sipped his coffee, not even bothering to hide hisdispleasure at his own tasteless brew.

“There’s no point in being here if I don’t get to see hermagnificent collarbones today…”

“Aaand there he goes again,” Ota commented.

True enough, the penthouse wasn’t as lively as it ought tobe with MC absent. Eisuke could feel his mood quickly dampening at the taste ofcoffee that wasn’t hers. He had half a mind to page her just to salvage histaste buds, but he had to restrain himself. She worked herself to the boneyesterday, and was feeling a bit guilty.

“Well, collarbones aside, MC really is cute, huh?” Babaadded.

Eisuke felt a stinging pain in his mouth, only to realize hebit his tongue at Baba’s statement.

“Aw, come on, guys. Don’t look at me like that. Are yousaying you all seriously haven’tthought that at least once?”

The room grew a bit silent at the thief’s retort, and Eisukefound himself musing on it. Baba wasn’t wrong in the least. She was very easy on the eyes, what with the wayshe smiled at him and carried herself around him. She wore the maid’s uniformalmost every single day, but he wasn’t a fool not to see that she was hidingsomething special underneath all that. He’d be a blind idiot to thinkotherwise—not that he’d ever admit it out loud, though.

“I guess she has nice legs,” Mamoru said, taking anotherdrag.

The thought of MC diligently cleaning the room, clad in herfitted, work-prescribed stockings conjured not-so-innocent images in Eisuke’smind.

“Oh, so you’ve got a thing for legs now, Mamo?” Ota teasedback.

“Shut up. You see ‘em just as much as I do.”

Her bending down,looking for something underneath a couch, her rear facing me—

“Boss?”

Baba’s voice shook Eisuke from hisdefinitely-not-work-related trance, and Eisuke had to hide his irritation, lestthe others have an inkling of his definitely-not-work-related thoughts.

“You’re oddly quiet today,” Baba noted, the smile neverleaving his face.

“Unlike some people, I have better things to think about.” Says the man thinking about her bent over.

“Really, Eisuke? We all know you think she’s cute, so don’tbother hiding it,” Ota added smugly.

“Whatever.” Like hellI’m telling you that.

Not long after, they heard a soft knock from the door, andsure enough, she had arrived for the day’s cleaning. The others stared at heras if they had seen a ghost, but she could only look back at them curiously.

Talk about bad timing—

“Uh, is there something going on?” she asked tentatively.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, MC!” Babachirped. “Don’t worry your pretty little mind about us.”

“Okay…” She didn’t look convinced, but she started cleaninganyway.

Try as he might, Eisuke couldn’t keep his eyes off her evenif he wanted to. Either Baba’s comment got to him, or he was starting to losehis wits.

Either way, he had to admit, there was one thing thatbothered him about Baba’s comment.

She’s definitely morethan just cute.

That night, Eisuke plopped down on his bed. It had been along day full of meetings that seemed to drone on and on, and he wanted nothingmore than to just sleep his troubles away. He unbuttoned the topmost buttons ofhis shirt before letting out a sigh.

This bed’s way too bigfor just one person.

Not that he wanted a smaller bed, but lately, he wasstarting to feel something every timehe saw the cold, empty side of his bed.

Without warning, the image of MC, immaculately sprawled on his bed, dressed in nothing but his shirt, appeared in his mind. Ashiver went down his spine before he begrudgingly realized that he should not be thinking those sorts of thingsabout his employee, of all people. Ugh, Baba’s rubbing off on me.

His phone buzzed next to him, and he scowled at the sound.Whoever the hell wanted to disturb him at this ungodly hour was about to get apiece of his mind. He was about to send the interloper a scathing reply when hesaw MC’s name on the screen.

Strange. He couldn’t remember the last time she texted himfor anything. Most of the time, their form of communication consisted of himpaging her, or the occasional call from him. She never initiated contact, asfar as he could recall. If he was being completely honest, it disheartened him.

Curious, he opened her message only to be met with asurprise.

“Holy shit. Holy fuckingshit.”

The “message” she had sent him wasn’t a work-related text oran innocent greeting. No, her message was the farthest thing from innocent—it was a picture of her in front ofher bathroom mirror, wearing nothing but lacy lingerie that left nothing to theimagination.

He had to refresh the message twice just to make sure itreally was her, and not some fantasy conjured by his overworked mind. No matterhow much he re-opened it, all he could see was her, clad in a lacy black bikiniset he never would’ve thought she’d dare to wear. Who knew that under her maid’suniform and her quiet countenance was a stunning body and an even bolderspirit? Mamoru may have called her a kid all the time, but the cop was a blindfool as far as Eisuke was concerned.

The real stinger was the caption that came with the photo:

[Do I look good inthis :) ?]

Good god, she’s goingto be the death of me.

Why the hell would she send him this? It feltout-of-character for someone as shy as she was, but he couldn’t find himself disappointedat the situation. In fact, if he had to say, he was almost…ecstatic, even. If this was her way coming on to him, then Eisuke wasn’tcomplaining anytime soon.

Nevertheless, he was still her boss. The rational side ofhim urged him to delete the photo and erase everything from his memory.

But, goddamn it, you’vewaited so long for an opportunity, and it looks like she made the first move.

That was also true. God knows how many lonely nights he’dspend with only his right hand as company and images of her lost in the throesof pleasure. He’d die before saying it out loud, but nothing save for her her seemed to excite him anymore. Thecompany of other women did nothing to rouse his blood, but even her mostmundane gesture sent him into a spiral of dwindling self-control.

He stared at the photo one last time. Maybe this was hisreward for months of sleeping alone. If there was a god out there, then damn,maybe he’d start praying if this was what faith got him.

Tomorrow, he’d confront her about it. For now, he desperatelyneeded a cold—no—freezing shower torelieve him of the uncomfortable tightness in his pants.

I’m seriously going tolose my mind.

Impatient as he was, Eisuke couldn’t wait for the next dayto come. He paged MC up to his office as soon as soon as he arrived thatmorning. If he was anxious or excited, he couldn’t tell at this point; all hewanted was to see MC as soon as possible. He even prepared some wine for themto hopefully get the message across.

He heard her knock on the door and beckoned her to come in. Eisukeschooled his most neutral expression while she looked adorably flustered,fiddling with the hem of her uniform.

“MC, you know why I called you in here, right?” he askedher, pouring some wine to appear casual.

She gulped before answering him.

“Is it because I accidentally sent you my nudes…?”

…What?

He froze and stopped pouring the moment he processed herwords.

“…Accidentally?” Thewords were ringing in his head as she nodded back at him. Suddenly, he wantednothing more than the ground to swallow him up and erase this memory from existence.

For a while, they both remained in painful silence. Theawkwardness was so palpable that Eisuke wondered if she wanted to hide in ahole as much as he did. Her unabashed blush seemed to indicate it.

But wait a minute, he thought. If she sent him the pictureby mistake, then that meant someone elsewas meant to receive it. As far as he could remember, she wasn’t dating anyoneat the moment.

Or was she? Shecould very well be dating one of the other auction managers right now and hewould be none the wiser.

He felt a pang of white-hot fury at the thought of one ofthem raking their eyes all over her, pressing their lips on her smooth skin,savoring the cries from her lips and—

“Mr. Ichinomiya,” she said, looking away from him. “Just…pleaseforget this ever happened. It was a complete accident, and I swear this’llnever happen again—“

“Who did you mean to send it to?”

“E—excuse me?”

“Just answer the question.” For my peace of mind.

She was still blushing, but she forced herself to speakanyway.

“…Look, I don’t know why youhave to know, but my friend gave me some lingerie as a birthday present, andshe wanted me to send her a picture to show that it fit me. Your name justhappened to be next to hers on my contact list, so…”

Eisuke inwardly let out a sigh of relief. If it had beensome cretin, god knows what he would’ve done.

“Sir, I really think you should just delete the photo andpretend this never happened.”

True, he probably should. If he were a good boss and apolite gentleman, he’d delete the photo to save them both the potential trouble(not to mention awkwardness) in the future. Then they could both resume theirlives as if nothing happened.

The only problem was he was neither of those things.

“How about this instead?” Eisuke suggested. “It’d be unfairto you if you were the only one in a compromising position. I’ll be sure toreturn the favor, then we’ll be even. Deal?”

“I really don’t understand…”

“You’ll see soon enough.” Eisuke took a long sip of his wine,easing his earlier tension.

“By the way, you didn’t look half-bad.”

If she was blushing a while ago, then she was positivelybeet red now.

“Oh, um, thank you…”

She left his office after giving a hurried bow, and Eisukecould only smirk at how his plan would come to fruition very soon.

That night, MC plopped on her own bed, dead tired from theday’s events. Today was absolutely mortifying,to say the least. She really hadn’t meant to send him the godforsaken photo,and she thought she had sealed her doom the moment she realized she sent it to Mr. Ichinomiya, of all people.

God, I really thoughtI was gonna die back there.

But the look on his face when she told him it was an accident—itwas the same look he’d always have whenever he drank someone else’s coffee. Itwas the look he had whenever he’d try to pet an animal, only to have it claw athim in retaliation.

It was, dare she say it, disappointment.

Come on. Like he’d bedisappointed by something like that.

And yet, the look on his face when she told him the picturewas meant for a friend—it was undeniably relief.

She didn’t know what to believe anymore, and there was afluttering in her stomach she couldn’t shake off. It only grew worse when sheremembered his earlier compliment.

Get it together, MC!He’s your boss, for crying out loud.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up only to see that Mr.Ichinomiya sent her a text.

After what happened, she could only feel apprehension atwhat was to come. Surely, he was going to fire her after today. God, now she neededto look for a new job, too. Great.

Shakily, her finger swiped the phone screen to open themessage.

“…What is this?”

The room suddenly became very warm, and all the blood rushedto her cheeks the moment the screen changed.

It wasn’t a brief text, but rather, a picture of himself. Hewas standing in front of his own bathroom mirror wearing only his blackboxer-briefs, giving her a delicious, unadulterated view of his lean, chiseledbuild. She had to gulp at the distinct V-line that ran down his hips and into…that place.

There was a caption that came along with the photo, and MChad to blink twice to make sure she wasn’t seeing things:

[Now we’re even. Belatedhappy birthday ;)]

Facing him tomorrow was going to be one hell of a task.