#neatly folded somewhere in his house

[korvessa]

Still thinking how unnecessary this video was, no, THESE VIDEOS because he just had to make one in english and one in finnish?? Dude just wanted to brag that Bojan spent a night at his place rather than some hotel in Helsinki. (Also he calls Bojan’s lace shirt ”SHOW UNDERWEAR”)

[biolumien]

... carried flower petals

pt 2 to this

notes: I AM. such a bad writer. help. going through double the stages of grief on this one. who even cares. who even gaf! i don't. im winning in the dgaf wars. (lying)

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader NSFW! w/ m/f sex. no i did not proofread this. this isn't a flex i actively just squinted trying not to look too hard at my own writing. this is also hoshina pov word count: 2415

hoshina supposes that he couldn’t blame you for your reaction. there was no way you would have been happy about marrying him, a complete and utter stranger–no matter how many times you might have met prior. and in the three times you’d met, he’d tried to keep his distance. there was an aura of deep discontent about you, and he didn’t want to disturb you, for fear that your anger would turn darker.

at least, until you pulled a dagger on him.

the dagger that he’d gifted you, no less. 

or, well–he hadn’t gifted it to you directly. he had selected the gift, but it had come alongside the marriage offer–and so hoshina wondered if you’d conflated the dagger as something utterly negative. when he’d picked out the dagger, he’d vowed it to keep you safe from harm. a selfish well-wishing on his part, sure–as a samurai, he was bound to make enemies that could hurt you.

he raises a hand to his neck, touching where you might have slashed him.

would he have let you? 

he brings himself to his feet as the sliding door to his room opens. you stand in the doorway, dressed in a simple nightgown–a far cry from the garments you wore during the ceremony. 

his mind flits back to them, for a moment–you’d chosen to wear pure white, contrasting him in his black haori and hakama. your expression had been severe, distant even then. you’d followed your new attendants into the quarters of your new housing within the hoshina clan’s home to change out of your wedding attire, and you hadn’t met his glance once.

you bow your head.

“your attendants tell me you’re quite the talent in bed,” you say, your voice crisp. your eyes meet his, your gaze unreadable. his eyes flick to your hands, folded neatly in front of you–and yet your fingers are fidgeting ever so slightly, a possible indication of just how nervous you were. 

hoshina can’t help but laugh.

“is that what they say? my mother can’t help but find people that run their mouths…” hoshina runs a hand through his hair. “sit. i can’t have my wife–” the word still felt foreign to him–wife, he was really a husband, was that even a moniker that fit him?–but he swallows his misgivings, pats one of the cushions next to the futon. “–standing for so long. it would be unfitting.”

“so are you?” you gather your kimono, sitting down. 

hoshina hums.

“if i tell you, would you see me differently?” hoshina asks.

“well. you’re my husband,” you say. the corners of your lips twitch when you say the word husband, your brow furrowing a little bit as you say it. a clear show of your definite displeasure. “i have to… accept it, after all. as your wife. hell, your attendants tell me that you were in the process of courting concu–”

“ahh,” hoshina leans his head back. “so is that what that’s all about?” he sighs, a strange, tightening pressure forming somewhere in his throat. the marriage acceptance hadn’t been on his end. it’d been his father’s, much to his mother’s chagrin. you were from a no-name clan, having long lost your family’s relevance. his mother had complained about your family’s name dragging down the hoshina family’s name.

but as hoshina reminisced–he couldn’t give a damn about his family name.

his brother–his proud, arrogant, stubborn, awful brother–had made his opinion on their family name very clear, by just leaving.

hoshina did resent him for it, just a little. it just meant that he couldn’t run away, now. 

“no. the concubine rumor’s bullshit,” hoshina says. “quite honestly, i couldn’t be bothered. i’m not in the interest of producing my family an heir.”

“huh?” you ask, sounding confused. “but–” “i mean. the sex is fine,” hoshina says candidly, placidly. “and if the family gets an heir, we get an heir. but it’s never been my concern. i think you ought not to worry about it, either. our families need each other. it’ll be reason enough for you to stay.” 

you stare at him, perplexed for the moment, before your brow also furrows. 

“so, you… don’t, want—”

“mm. you pulled a knife on me last time we talked,” hoshina teases as he begins to undo his ponytail. “i thought that made your opinion on me fairly clear. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable if you don’t want it. my folks won’t be happy, but there’s nothing like lying that can’t fix that.” he runs a hand through his hair. “so it’s your call.”

you watch him. 

“it’s fine,” you say. you lean in closer to him, and he simply watches you—watches you like he did on the first day the two of you met, watches you like he did when you raised the dagger to his throat. always watching, waiting for you to make the first move. 

“i’d rather just get it over with,” you say. “the first time.” 

“mm. as you command, then,” hoshina says. 

when he leans in to kiss you, he does it slowly. you taste faintly of the sake you drank during the marriage ceremony, though the alcohol has long worn off. 

he wishes he could take you apart more cleanly. to take you apart with intention. he can draw the lines from the veins in your wrist to the beating, fluttering of your heart in your breast. you kiss him with your eyes open, as if you’re watching for his every movement. he supposes that he’s watching you, too, trying to see what you’ll do. what you like. 

“are you just going to kiss me?” you murmur, something like spite in your voice. “or are you actually going to show me something interesting?” 

“interesting?” he pulls back from the kiss, raising an eyebrow. 

“i’ve read all the woodcuts,” you say. “as apparently was my duty as your wife. i was just wondering if there was anything more interesting than that.” 

“mm. you can’t possibly learn what it feels like through reading alone,” hoshina says. “experience is the best teacher.”

“big talk,” you retort. hoshina almost hates the way his heart flutters at your words, entranced by you. one hand reaches out to touch your face, the other hand gently reaching down to undo your obi as he pulls you closer to him, letting you straddle his lap. 

“i’m afraid most of my lovers say i’m a talkative one,” hoshina purrs. “but i hope you’ll find me satisfactory.” when he leans in to kiss you again, your sash falls gently onto the ground, and the inner layers of your kimono come undone.  

he’s had no small share of lovers—or, well, general brothel experience, he supposes. he’s a man in the end—a samurai from a family of renown, for whom many lovers might have found him appealing simply for how much money he was willing to pay for good service. but he knows what he’s doing, in any case.

he revels in it, though—at how responsive and jittery you seem to be. the faintest touch of his hand against your skin is enough to make you jolt out of your skin, and you whimper ever so slightly as his fingers pull at a nipple, and he feels your pulse jump in your throat as his teeth graze at your neck. he feels you shift against him, attempt to press your thighs together and he laughs. 

he’s surprised there, too—the way you shudder when he laughs, as he’s pressed against you. 

when his fingers seek between your legs, he’s thrilled, but still surprised to find the telltale sign of slick. 

“mm. this wet already, really?” hoshina teases. his hand brushes against your inner thigh, coaxing you to spread your legs a little more, and he feels your leg twitch against the shift of his knuckles. “you’re desperate.” 

“as if.” your breath sounds shuddery, and hoshina laughs, not meanly. he wonders how he could take you apart—could he use just his mouth? his fingers? the mere suggestion of touching you, just using words alone? he wanted to know, desperately so. desperately in the same way he wanted to know your heart, if only you’d let him. but in the meantime, he smiles—and it’s more of a smirk. 

he takes his fingers to his mouth, sucking the wetness from his fingers, and he revels in the way you flush, a half-scandalized and half-flustered sound escaping your mouth. 

“it’s alright,” hoshina says, teasing. 

“i don’t—need you to tell me it’s alright,” you say, flustered. “i just—”

“less talking from you,” hoshina says, fondly. gently. he’s entranced by you, the swell of your breast and the way your skin flushes red from your neck to your collarbones. he wishes he could sink his teeth into your pulse—or would you give him your beating heart, let him devour the tender organ? “you’re doing wonderfully. do you feel up for more?” 

you pause, biting your lip. he marvels at the way your fingers twitch against his in anticipation, and your brow furrows. 

“let—i want to be on top,” you say, and hoshina simply smiles. 

“alright,” he acquiesces. “i’m all yours.”

that much was true. he was learning far too quickly that he was very much a man that would follow you anywhere, that he was at your beck and call. 

you help him undress with shaking hands, pulling his belt away and pushing the kimono from his shoulders. your hands stop for a moment as you survey his chest—hoshina watches your face, propped back and leaning back on his hands. your fingers press against a deep scar against his chest, and your eyes meet his. 

“long story,” hoshina says softly. “not the kind i’d tell my wife on our first night together, anyhow.” 

your hand gently touches his cock and he hisses, practically, wincing at how it feels like too much and not much at all. it takes most of his discipline to not rut up into the touch, to let himself be taken by that pleasure. you gently push him back, letting him lie back against the futon. 

as you lower yourself slowly onto his cock, hoshina watches as your fingers flex against his chest, your eyes squeeze and your toes desperately curl. he shifts his hips a little bit, and you whimper. 

“don’t tease,” you keen. 

“m’not.”

hoshina thinks it’s quite the opposite, really. he’s a patient man, but not this patient. you’re about halfway down his cock at this point, slowly taking him in bit by bit—and then his patience just snaps somehow when he hears you whine again. not in a bad way—just in a he’ll fucking die like this, he’s sure kind of way. 

you gasp immediately as he thrusts up, causing you to bottom out. your hips meet his, and you lean your head back, a loud and desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“y-you awful man,” you moan out, something like a pout in your tone. “i wanted to take my time—”

“mm—hm. sorry,” hoshina teases, not quite apologetic at all. his voice strains a bit—you feel almost like a fire, your cunt desperately squeezing against his cock. “just don’t think i’ll last long with you squeezing me like this. does it feel that good?”

your face flushes, your hair plastered to your forehead. 

“shut up.”

“i’ll take that as a yes, then,” hoshina says, unrepentant in the way he thrusts up into you, reveling in the way you respond to each movement with tiny little whimpers that stretch into longer and longer cries. you don’t say his name, but he finds himself uncaring for the moment. does he wish you’d say his name? does he wish, however selfishly, that this moment might burn itself into your memory?

surely he doesn’t. it would be unbecoming of him to ask that much. 

your hand leans out, digging into his skin, and he lets out a soft, raspy breath, taking your hand into his. 

“‘m close,” you whimper out through shaking breaths, and hoshina’s heart squeezes again, at the way your hips cant against his, as if each touch almost hurts, but you can’t help but continue to press your hips against his, trying to find more traction. hoshina smirks, his free hand reaching out to thumb at your clit, flicking upwards, and tries to see if he can memorize the way you seize up against him, the way you squeeze down on his cock–tries to see if he can memorize every twitch.

he hopes he can.

you cum soon after, and your hand digs into his so hard that he wonders if you might be able to break his fingers one day–and hopes that you can. he holds you tightly against him, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm as you whimper tiny uh, uh, uhs–until you wince.

“hurts, i–please,” you say, and hoshina takes pity on you for the moment, pulls out, and strokes soothingly at your face. your chest heaves, and hoshina thinks he could get lost in your every motion. as hoshina shifts to move away–he’d rather prioritize your comfort over his in the end, so despite the fact that he was hard to the point it almost hurt, he figured he’d just deal with it on his own—you shift up.

“but you–you didn’t,” you say after a moment, grabbing his wrist. 

“hm?” hoshina hums. “mm. don’t worry about me, dear. i’m more than capable of–fuck, you–” his voice halts right as your hand wraps around his cock, your thumb grazing over the head of it ever so gently. “fuck. you-you don’t have to–”

“please,” you say, something like disdain–or spite? or something, he really couldn’t tell–in your voice. “i can do this much.”

he cums embarrassingly fast–the mixture of being so strung out at this point, so strangely affected, enamored by you–and he can’t help but laugh. he wants to press his face into your collarbone, but he can’t bring himself to cross the distance. he hums, instead, simply exhaling through his teeth for a moment.

“get some rest,” hoshina says. he watches as your face shifts ever so slightly–and he wishes he knew you better, if only so he could understand what you were thinking.

“alright,” you say.

hoshina fears he’s in love.

but the part of him that knows better says he shouldn’t be. he watches silvery moonlight paint the planes of your back, and you turn away from him, lost in sleep. 

he sighs.

[flippinpancakes64]

cullens coming in on the reader crying

The Cullens walking in on you crying

Sorry that this took so long, I literally got in a car crash. I guess that's what I get for deciding to write fanfic.

For right now, my requests are closed as I am currently trying to catch up :'(

Anyway here's your story! Thank you for being patient and I hope you like it!

Edward:

Unless he was away from home, you wouldn't have even been able to think sad thoughts before he was right behind you

But assuming he was away and didn't notice your turmoil until he was close to the home, he is instantly by your side

When he goes up to your room and sees you curled up on your shared bed, he is instantly worried

Frantically scanning your mind for every possible thing that could have made you as upset as you are right now

If it was a person, his first thought is violence

If someone said something to you, he is instantly flying out of the house and hunting them down

He gets so blinded by rage that he doesn't even stop to think that you might just want comfort at that moment

So unless you can call out to him before he can leave, you're gonna have to wait until he comes back

But after he comes back, or if this was never about a person in the first place, he is instantly holding you

Rubbing your arms, petting your hair, whispering words to you

After you've calmed down he's asking you what you need

Your favorite food? Your favorite movie? You want to go out somewhere? You name it, he'll do it

Won't leave your side the rest of the night

Alice:

I get the sense that she's a bit clingy

So just the fact that you were able to be alone long enough to cry without her noticing is a one in a million chance

Unlike Edward she does not resort to violence, however

In a flash she is by your side, petting your hair, drying your tears, and asking you what's wrong

No matter what the issue is, she will stay by your side

She already has your favorite takeout on the way, your favorite movie on the TV, your favorite drink in a cup beside you, and your favorite pajamas neatly folded waiting for you to change

She will spend the whole night talking to you softly, braiding/messing with your hair (or just running her fingers through it if it's not long enough), and telling jokes she knows you'll laugh at

Doesn't leave your side

She doesn't even make you get up early to spend forever choosing the perfect outfit for you the next day

If it was a person who was making you sad, she goes out of her way to walk you to classes where she knows you'll see them

If they try anything in the future she is not afraid to stand up for you

Jasper:

He senses your mood change from a mile away

Like literally

He is out on a hunt with Emmett and he feels your mood change and he can feel the tears falling from your eyes

Jaguar or whatever the hell he had be damned he is running home

Wastes no time in going to your side

Asks what's wrong and then calmly listens

He brushes away the tears from your eyes and holds you in his arms as you let it all out

He'll make little snarky comments if this was about someone being mean

Is your 'yes' man

"I just want him to die!" "I completely agree, darlin'"

Again he is your personal servant for the night

Food, movie, drive around town going at least 100 mph

You name it, it's done

He's also not one to get violent, though

He knows his own limits

He is still very sensitive to blood

Is not willing to put their whole livelihoods at risk just to put some douche in their place

Rosalie:

As soon as she heard the first sob, she was up the stairs and in your room

Instantly cradling you, holding your head, giving you kisses on the cheeks, doing anything to calm you down

Once you finally muster up the words to say what happened, she is shushing you

After you explain, I mean

She doesn't want you just mumbling on and on

Because now she's in 'fix it' mode

Is running you a nice, warm bath with candles and bath bombs and everything

She cooks you something warm and nice

Puts on your favorite show or movie and lays next to you until you fall asleep

But if someone did this to you...

As soon as you're asleep she is up and out of the house

She might enlist the help of Emmett or Edward

Their tires are slashed, all of their shampoo is Nair, all of their clothes have been shrunk in the wash, etc.

She wouldn't tell you what she did

That's her little secret ;)

Emmett:

He gets a little scared at first

He doesn't really know how to deal with crying and really big emotions

I mean the biggest emotions he's ever felt were hunger and fear

Either way as soon as he hears you crying he is done with whatever else he was doing and is by your side

He sort of just.. sits there

He's rubbing your back and trying to be supportive and a listening ear

He will let all of your tears soak his shirt he does not care

Once you calm down enough you're gonna have to be the one to ask him to do things

Don't be scared to ask, he will do anything you want

He will ask you if you want him to go beat up the person who made you sad (if that's what happened)

But that's only half a joke

If you say no and laugh he'll laugh too

But once you're asleep....

He is out the door

That person is legitimately missing the next day

Police cannot find their body

Or any sign of them at all

Esme:

Ultimate comforter

She walked into the house after going grocery shopping for prop food for the house when she sees you

I feel like she would try to give you your space first

She would go up to you and ask if you're okay, but if you don't immediately say something she would quietly leave

When she was going through her own human heartbreaks all she wanted was to be alone

But she is on high alert

If you so much as whisper her name from all the way across the house she is there in an instant

Food, blankets, a board game, and maybe some wine if you're feelin it

She will help you make a blanket fort in the living room

(She also told everyone else to go away)

Listens intently and quietly while you explain everything that happened and why you're crying

If it's because of a self esteem issue she could start crying herself if she could

She thinks you are the most perfect person in the world

However if someone else did this to you I feel like she would have all of the tea

"What did you say their name was again? I recognize that last name, their mom was a hoe"

Carlisle:

He's really quiet about it

He doesn't want to intrude

So when he comes home and goes into his office to see you curled up on his chair crying he just leaves again

He slips a note to come into his room whenever you feel like it

When you get in there he has the bed all set up with pillows and blankets

The TV is on playing one of those YouTube videos of a crackling fireplace

Warm food is sitting on a tray for you

And he is sitting in the middle reading a book as he waited for you

He is there with open arms and open ears

He's really good at reading people

If you just want someone to talk at and complain to, he will happily sit there silently

If you want explanations, someone to bounce ideas off of, or an active listening partner he can do that too

I'm sorry but if you spoke bad about yourself he'd hit you with some bullshit

"Well actually *insert thing here* was very fashionable and considered very attractive in *insert random era here*"

And if it was someone else who said something to you it would also be insufferable

"The way you're describing this person sounds like they might have *insert mental illness here*"

Your best bet is to just tell him to stop talking

Vampire! Bella:

This girl knows sadness

I mean she was like a stationary rock for three months when Edward left her

She knows it sucked being alone too

So when she hears you crying she is right by your side

She also might have grabbed some tissues on her way

And oh she might have also grabbed the bowl of candy that Esme uses as decoration

And wow that's crazy she picked up your favorite sweatshirt of hers how weird

She is the ultimate yes man

If someone said something to you she chimes in about how she hates them too

If you're crying due to a self esteem issue she shoots that down immediately

If you're crying because of a movie she starts talking about how if she was human that movie would have made her cry too

The queen of yappersville

She could talk you to sleep

And tbh she probably does

The next day, if it was someone at school who made you cry, she gets all up in their face

Like I'm talking middle of the school hallway like "so I heard you had some things to say to my partner here yesterday, why don't you say them to me now?"

People are a little scared of her now

But at least no one messes with you anymore :)

[alchemistc]

too many toasters | bucktommy 1/1

Tommy contemplates asking Buck to move in with him.

read on ao3

He's reorganizing a cupboard to make room for the massive crockpot he'd found for a steal at an estate sale (thinking of the stew he wants to make for Evan the next time the Santa Ana's are chasing at their heels) when he notices.

Evan's protein powder, still balanced on top of the fridge because he's hesitant to claim the spot Tommy had cleared for him weeks ago.

Evan's spare immersion blender, brought over because he'd seen Tommy's old-school espresso maker and wanted to try his hand at foam art. Unsuccessfully, considering both of them were avoiding cows milk at the moment.

The spare set of Jeep keys looped next to the garage door, which Evan hadn't asked him to return after Tommy changed his oil, and Tommy had taken to touching on his way out of the house like a wife stroking a token of her husband far off in a foreign country fighting a war.

In the living room, the blanket over the couch is tucked and folded in a way Tommy can never replicate and doesn't try, because he likes the look of it, hanging neatly over the arm of the loveseat.

In the garden, a second set of gloves, too unwieldy for anything but pulling thick weeds.

In the bathroom, the mouthwash Evan swears by tucked next to Tommy's aftershave in the medicine cabinet.

In the bedroom, two hoodies Tommy has stolen and stretched out the shoulders of - a flavored lube in the bedside table drawer that they'd both laughed themselves silly about after one use and Tommy hadn't had the heart to toss in the trash the next morning - three department issue tee's folded neatly in his wardrobe that Evan outgrew years ago and has retrofitted for sleepwear - a book on the bloody history of the potato on top of the ancient PS4 setup Tommy still hasn't moved to the living room.

And more - Tommy can picture them all in his mind clear as day, and his heart lurches fondly, warningly, in his chest.

They’ve settled somewhere between normal and warp speed, now that the early relationship milestones have all been blown clean out of the water. Spare keys exchanged, controversial sexual fantasies shared, shovel talks mostly avoided by the sheer power of dry wit and matching bitchiness, I love you’s exchanged beneath a hazy crescent moon with half a bottle of Merlot drunk between them and the wisteria hanging off his pergola tickling their noses. Tommy counts the time Evan had let him throw the Jeep up on the lift so he could do a full diagnostic rundown, and Evan counts the time Tommy let him Facetime with his nephew in Reno. Milestones, common and uncommon, that Tommy had stumbled through with a hand clenched in Evan’s, absolutely prepared to match both speed and psychosis.

He’s met the parents, at more than just a passing glance with his face covered in the same soot that painted a radius around Evan’s mouth. He’s fully integrated into the 118’s groupchats - every iteration, though he’s fond of the Maddie-Karen-Athena combo that never fails to go for the throat where station fuckery is involved.

They’ve done the stupid zodiac quizzes Tommy’s sister had sent him, Evan curled into the circle of his arms and ignoring the barrage of texts he’d gotten from Maddie after he’d asked her what time of day he’d been born, grinning into the skin of Tommy’s pec at the readout and then promptly reminding Tommy that neither one of them believed in that shit, anyway.

They’ve talked about the future — for themselves, individually, for the possibility with a partner. For each other, if (when, Tommy’s heart whispers) they make a good run of things.

Evan’s lease is up in a month.

They haven’t talked about it.

He only knows because Eddie had mentioned it, about as subtle as a bullhorn, before Tommy had to stop him from gossiping about all the missteps Evan’s had with living with significant others in the past.

(”There are things about Evan I should hear from Evan first,” Tommy had told him, a little more stern than he’d been going for, enough to make Eddie visibly swallow down a barrage of thinly veiled disdain for Evan’s exes.)

Evan hasn’t brought it up, but Tommy knows a little , enough to piece together why he might be reluctant to broach the subject.

But as Tommy shifts the popcorn maker into a corner and removes the toaster he’s been tinkering with to no avail for six months now, crockpot sliding in without so much as a rustle from the other kitchenware stuffed in there, he thinks about the recent quiet that has swallowed him whole on nights when they just can’t quite make the revolving door of their disparate schedules work. He thinks of the times he’s pushed through the door to Evan’s loft, dead on his feet and world-weary after a patient arrived at the helipad DOA — of the sound of his voice falling into a tangent easing something inside Tommy even though his joints and his heart were both still aching.

He thinks of the way Evan looks, toothpaste on the corners of his lips because he’s had a thought halfway through brushing that couldn’t wait the extra forty-five seconds to be heard. He thinks of the way he hates washing his sheets between visits, now, because he doesn’t like losing the faint scent of Evan’s shampoo on the pillowcase.

Tommy closes the cabinet and makes a beeline for the jug of protein powder sitting on top of his fridge. Opens the cabinet door above it and shifts the jug back into the spot he’d assigned it weeks ago.

“Right,” he says, out loud, into the silence of the house.

The house sighs back at him.

---

Tommy is incredibly good at stifling the part of himself that enjoys rom-coms more than any other genre of fiction. He’s had years, decades, to push his soft sighs down below his diaphragm where they can’t hurt him.

Evan appreciates how little fanfare there’s been to most of their firsts. The lack of pressure, the ease with which they’ve approached things that they’d both previously considered watershed moments.

He considers texting Eddie to ask him if Evan has mentioned anything about re-upping his lease. Tosses that thought aside almost immediately, because he can already see the snarky response: There are things about Buck you should hear from Buck first.

He nearly reaches out to Bobby, before he remembers Bobby’s soft smile, a month and a half ago, while Evan carted a squealing Jee-Yun around Hen and Karen’s backyard, his gentle smile when Tommy had handed him a club soda and lime. (”You know, I never thought I’d see Buck settle in to something he doesn’t need a pep talk about,” Bobby had said, and something had unfurled in Tommy like a delicate flower reaching for the sun.) He could. It’s stupid to think Bobby wouldn’t be happy to talk to Tommy about something like this — but there’s a quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him this is something he needs to figure out for himself.

In the end, he keeps it simple. Just enough romance to maybe give Evan a heads up. Two nights after shoving Evan’s protein power where it belongs, Tommy tells him to dress slightly more than casual, picks him up in the Nova he’s been fixing up for three months, drives him up the PCH until the sun is low on the horizon. They watch the clouds spark up in pinks and purples, the sea reflecting colors back, and then Tommy gets them burgers and beers, and they walk them off in the twilight, shoes in their hands as they drift along the sun-warm sand.

Evan points out a cloud that he swears looks like the tree in the front yard of the house he grew up in, and Tommy seizes the moment, shifts the slim box from his back pocket while Evan is turned away. It’s nearly too dark, and they should probably have turned back for the car twenty minutes ago, but Evan has a step count he likes to meet when he won’t be at the gym for a few days, and they’ve got plans for a long weekend.

Tommy takes a deep breath when Evan turns back to look at him. His breath tumbles out in a rush when he catches sight of the box. “It’s not a ring,” Tommy tells him, cringing, hyperaware all of the sudden that Evan would absolutely know that just by the size and shape of the box.

Evan tilts back on his heels. There is a gentle grin on his face — the one he had five seconds before Tommy told him he loved him, the one he wore the first time Tommy threw one of his hoodies on in the chill of the loft and raised the cuffs surreptitiously to his nose, the one Tommy sees every time he presses a kiss to the pink mark over Evan’s brow.

Like he knows.

Like he’s been waiting on Tommy to catch up.

“You could have just said something yourself,” Tommy notes, with a hint of sass, as the picture comes into focus. “You didn’t have to send Eddie in to drop hints.”

Evan bites his lip. “Is that for me?” That cloud looks like the tree outside my childhood home, my ass.

Cheeky. God, Tommy loves him. “Could be.”

Evan crab-hands his way forward, and Tommy shifts his weight back just enough that he misses, in the growing dark. There’s a little helicopter on the keyring he’d bought, no key attached because Evan already has that, and it’s so sappy he’s bound to get half a dozen teasing texts about it the very first time someone at the 118 clocks it. Tommy doesn’t care.

Evan shifts his weight back, drops his hands to his sides. Tommy can see the moon reflecting off the water in the sparkle of his eyes. “Ask me,” Evan says, and Tommy leans in to kiss him, instead.

---

Tommy finds no less than six of his henley’s in the depths of Evan’s closet while they’re paring down the parts of his wardrobe he doesn’t wear anymore. Rather than comment on it, he folds them neatly and adds them to the keep pile.

The Buckley’s, always deciding to be overbearing at the worst of times, try to buy them a new mattress when they hear through the grapevine that Evan is moving.

Chimney spends a week giving Tommy shit about the keyring, and Tommy retaliates by buying Jee a toy copter that lights up, makes noise, and can manage to hover off the ground just at ankle height.

---

“We have four toasters,” Evan comments. They’ve spent an entire three days off unpacking, the both of them unsettled by the idea of leaving boxes stacked around the house, or in the spare room (Thank you, Eddie, for that shared trauma response).

He’s shirtless, rubbing a serum into his skin as Tommy settles in on his side of the bed, soft pink lips parted, favoring his good leg a little. Tommy’s already reaching for the massage oil by the time Evan has finished his thankfully simple skincare routine. Tommy needs to upgrade his stock medicine cabinet, if Evan is going to continue stockpiling a backup of both of their respective skin and hair products.

He waves the bottle of massage oil at Evan when he moves towards the bed, and something eases in Evan’s expression — the reminder that Tommy pays such close attention to him always enough to turn him a bit gooey, and Tommy has never used it for evil, but he could, if he wanted to. “Do you want to get comfortable to sleep, or is this going to make you horny again?”

Evan grins, bright and wide, a little mischievous as he tilts his head and cocks a hip. Down to his briefs, there’s not much left to Tommy’s imagination.

“Not my fault you’ve got magic hands.”

“I’m merely trying to perform a service for my partner who has been moving boxes up and down stairs for a week and a half.”

“I’ll perform a service on you,” Evan rebuttals, tongue between his teeth, and the muscles in Tommy’s groin tighten on instinct, more than anything else.

“Three out of ten for cheesiness. I’ll give you six overall for sticking the landing.”

“That’s at least an eight and you know it,” Evan argues, the side-sleeper knee pillow already out from under the bed and propping up his leg as he shifts to get comfortable.

Tommy doesn’t warm the dollop of oil in his hand before he slides his palm up Evan’s thigh, and Evan makes a noise halfway between a squeak and a snort. He shoots Tommy a bratty look that Tommy wants to devour, but —

He warms a much more generous pour of oil between his palms before he slowly searches out the deepest knots with gentle fingers, and Evan sighs, eyes tipping closed as Tommy works. His dick twitches in his briefs, but Tommy ignores it, for the time being.

They’ll have time for it later.

[waffledforbreakfast]

Second Encounters - [MUTI! BLLK X F!READER]

Staring: Rin, Shidou, Sae, Niko, Kaiser, Ness, Otoya, Karasu, Reo

[ BLLK Scenario Masterlist ]

TW: ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, etc.

>Rin

Rin was warming up for his game, it had been a few days since he last saw you

He didn’t mean to look for you in the crowd, it just ‘happened’, at least that’s what he’s been telling himself 

And he didn’t actually get excited when he saw you he was just… getting in the mood to play! Yea, that’s right… He definitely smiles on a normal basis, this isn’t anything special…

He felt like he was playing better than usual, did your look of awe motivate that… no…?

Once the game wrapped up (they won, obviously) he poked through the crowd to find you. He wasn’t too sure why, his body started moving before Rin could come up with a good excuse stop it 

But you were the one to find him instead. Maybe it was because he was so tired from playing..

He just finished chugging his bottle too, and he was about to go get some more

“Hey Rin, great game! Oh here- would you like some water?” You offered a plastic bottle that you definitelydidn’tbringjustforRin just so happened to have on you

He looked at you like you were his savour before proceeding to down it in 2 seconds

He took a second to catch his breath before thanking you “So, why are you here?”

You could only laugh “I’ve seen most your games, you’ve got a very entertaining playstyle” 

“Oh… ok.”

It was only now that you realized how this made you come off, “Going to every one of Rin Itoshi’s games? It was just to watch, no feelings behind it, right…? Yea.” You thought to yourself “I mean- it’s not like I even know him. He wouldn’t even want to be around m-”

“Do you wanna come to my game tomorrow?” Rin blurted, as he interrupted your thoughts “It’s at a larger stadium, so you need to buy tickets…”

“Oh uhm… yea!” you gave a hesitant smile, never did you expect Rin to invite you somewhere, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity! You didn’t mind spending a few bucks on tickets-

“Great. I actually already have a ticket for you… you’ll be my +1, if that’s alright with you…” he pulled out a neatly folded slip of paper with your information and barcode. 

It was a VIP ticket

You were hesitant at first “Are you sure…? Aren’t these really expensive?” 

Rin just shrugged “Yea, I don’t mind.” he placed the tickets in your hands “Just actually show up okay?”

“Yeah! Of course.” you were screaming inside “I’ll see you there!”

And with that, the boy went on his way.

Shortly after he got a call from his mother

“Rin, have you given the ticket to your brother yet?”

>Shidou

It’s only been a few days after you managed to get him out the house

He ended up staying the night for the first day, and you only got him out by giving him your number 

He had been texting you constantly, telling you the most random things “Omg look at this bird bro, I could lowkey swallow it whole” “HELP I PISSED SAE-SAN OFF AGAIN-” “Will you watch the new csm movie with me?” “PLEASE WATCH THE NEW CSM MOVIE WITH ME” “WATCH THE NEW MOVIE WITH ME PLEASEEE I BEG”

He would NOT shut up about watching the new csm movie, turns out, he doesn’t have any friends that watch chainsaw man… actually, you weren't sure if he had friends at at-

So you finally agreed to watch it with him in the cinema, and he was OVERJOYED 

He bought the tickets and everything

Shidou would come and pick you up in the morning, then you guys would go out to buy some snacks, and smuggle bring them into the theater

Shidou was very happy to have someone hang out with him, and you guys had a lot of fun :D 

>Sae

Sae found himself going to the perfume store for the 4th time this week

It was friday

Did he really need another perfume? No. Has he already bought 12 from you this week? Yes. But Sae Itoshi still wandered the mall, making his way over to your store

“Hello, [Y/N]” he said with a nod, the greeting had become a daily routine 

But it seemed that you were preoccupied with another customer, Sae frowned

The man was almost yelling at you, talking about how useless you were, making inappropriate comments, etc.

Just when Sae walked in, the man knocked over a very expensive bottle of perfume that he requested to “look at”, when you had tried to get him to pay for damages, he just walked out!

If you had more energy, maybe you would’ve gone after him, but it had been a long day, and your shift was about to end in a few minutes anyway.

You finally noticed Sae in the store, and tried to compose yourself

“Hello, Mr.Itoshi, 4th time is it?” You said with a small laugh

“Yes. Hello.” He said as he looked at the broken bottle on the floor “How much was that?”

You sighed “$420….” You grabbed the broom and quickly cleaned it up

“Hm. Let me pay for it.” Sae said, as he pulled out a fat wad of cash

“Oh! Uhm… that’s a lot of money…” You replied, staring at the cash

Sae only shrugged, “No, not really.” He placed the stack on the counter 

You gave a weak laugh as you finished your cleaning “So, what can I help you with this time, Mr Itoshi? I think you’ve already got all our new arrivals…”

“Hm.” He looked around the store. If he was honest, he didn’t even need more perfume, the first one you gave him was perfect. And yet he still came here everyday.

A few seconds of silence passed, Sae wasn’t sure how many. But you were counting

“6…5…4…3…” you kept track in your head “2…1.”

The clock struck 6. You gave a quick bow to the man “I’m so sorry, but my shift is over now.”

“Oh”

You grabbed your bag quickly from behind the counter and put your jacket on

“Wait uh-” Sae hesitated “Could… I buy one perfume before you go?”

You checked your watch “I’m so sorry, I have to catch the bus” you apologized “There’s always tomorrow!” you tried to keep it positive (and make sure you have clients)

“Let me get you an Uber.” he insisted “We wouldn’t want you getting wet now would we?”

Once the Uber arrived, Sae walked you out with an umbrella 

You turned to him and gave him your thanks “And what perfume did you want to get? I’ll make sure we have it in stock tomorrow if you pass by again”

“Oh… I was wondering which one you used…”

“My perfume?”

“Yea.”

You smiled and looked through your purse, pulling out a small bottle and handed it to him “It’s this one, I’ve had it for a while” 

He was caught off guard by the action “Really? Are you okay with me having it?” He examined your facial expression

“Yes, I insist.” you laughed lightly, “You are indirectly my main source of income too so yk-” 

Sae smiled

“Thank you” He said, a genuine look on his face “Could I get one more thing…?”

“Yea, what is it?”

“Your number”

>Niko

“Niko, you should really take a break…” You said, as you watched the boy continue to train

“No. The game’s tomorrow. I need to make sure we win” The boy said stubbornly 

You could only roll your eyes at his remark “Oh come onnnn. You’ve practiced the last 100 days. We’re basically guaranteed the win.” 

You weren’t exaggerating either, it really has been 100 days. And those 100 days may have been some of your best.

Niko sighed “Alright… I suppose I could go for a break…” he put the ball away as he grabbed his belongings 

You smiled “Great! We should go out!” You said enthusiastically as you helped him pack up

“Huh? But I’m tired….”

“Ehh? Alright, let’s go to your house then, we can watch some anime to cool down.”

He smiled at your consideration, ignore his light blushing too ok?

You had been to his place quite a few times now, so you made yourself comfortable as Niko picked a show

“Hey Niko,” you said as you scooped some popcorn “How do you feel about tomorrow?”

He took a moment to think about it before replying, “To be honest… I’m really nervous.. But having you there makes me feel a bit better”

“Aww, thanks Niko” you teased

As the two of you finished setting up, you guys sat down and prepared to start watching

“Hey, Niko, we should totally watch this in theaters one day! I really need to convince you to go with me one day…”

“Oh? Alright”

“Wait really!? You’ll actually go outside!?” you turned to him eagerly 

“Sure.” Niko smiled “If we win tomorrow, I’ll take you out, it’ll be a date!”

(man was absolutely panicking inside 🤭)

>Kaiser

Kaiser stood by Ness as he checked his phone

“They should be here any moment, I swear-” Ness reassured the annoyed blonde 

Kaiser only scoffed “They’re a waste of my time…”

“I beg your pardon??” You approached them from behind “I’m two minutes late.”

Kaiser glared at you, “Those are two minutes of my precious time.”

You rolled your eyes “Yea right, like you have anything better to do…” you turned to Ness and switched up your tone of voice “Hi Ness! It’s so good to see you again :D” 

Ness smiled “Yea…” he was scared that you and Kaiser were going to break out in a fight at any moment 

Kaiser was deeply offended by your remark, and felt the need to make a comeback, but you had already moved off the topic

“So, where do you wanna go, Ness? There are quite a few places nearby…” You checked the map on your phone

Ness only looked at the other boy, “Is there anywhere you want to go, Kaiser?”

Kaiser stared down at you “Where do you want to go?”

You did not expect that, someone like him asking for your preference? “Not gonna lie, I’m pretty hungry… I’d be down for a cafe.” you gave him a warm smile as a thanks

Kaiser looked back at Ness “Let’s go Karaoke.” 

“WHATTTT??” your jaw dropped. He asked for your opinion to choose the most tiring activity?? You glared at him. You were going to out-sing this man if it were the last thing you did.

And out-sing him you did. Kaiser only scoffed and said he wasn’t taking it seriously anyway.

After karaoke, you guys did a lot of other activities, shopping, watched a movie, laughed at babies crying, you were having so much fun that you completely forgot about your hunger. And your grudge against Kaiser. Alright, fine, you tolerated him. But you weren’t going to tell him that! He can inflate his own ego.

“Hey Liebling,” He called, using a nickname he picked for you just a few hours ago (you had to ask Ness what it meant, but Kaiser told him not too) “You still hungry?” 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought he genuinely cared!

“Depends….” you examined his expression to figure out his intentions 

Kaiser only laughed “Alright. Let’s go pick up some food at the Cafe.”

This was too good to be true! So you kept your guard high

Ness giggled at your expression “You know, he’s not alway a jerk, just… 95% of the time!”

“Wow, thanks Ness, so very comforting.”

When you guys arrived at the cafe, you were immediately attracted by your favourite dessert. You looked through the display to see the one piece left.

“Oh? You like that dessert?” Kaiser popped up behind you, teasing

“What? No-” you lied

“Really? Then… I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I bought the last piece~” Kaiser taunted you as he grabbed his wallet

“You wouldn’t dare” you glared at him. You could put up with him being a jerk for the most part, but your dessert? Unacceptable.

And he still bought it!!

You were outraged, literally about to fight him.

“You sure he’s not always a jerk?” You questioned Ness as you glared daggers at Kaiser

Ness rolled his eyes playfully “I think he actually quite likes you”

“Really? Is mockery his love-language?” you joked sarcastically 

“Yes, actually.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked back at the other deserts, about to chose one

Kaiser scoffed and lightly tapped the boxed snack on your shoulder “Yours.”

“...Huh??” 

He glared at you “It’s for you. You're welcome.”

You took the box quickly and thanked him. Maybe Ness was right… me wasn’t always that bad…

As the day ended, you guys shared a last moment.

You gave Ness a quick hug as you were about to leave, and thanked Kaiser for the dessert 

Kaiser rolled his eyes “Do I not get a hug?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you gave him one anyway.

As you were about to pull back, Kaiser grabbed on to you,

“Next time, let’s go out together without Ness” he winked at you before departing 

Ness totally heard him say it too, but pretended like he didn’t, for the sake of his own safety ;)

>Ness

Despite it being a week since he last saw you, he was thinking of you constantly. I mean, how often does he meet someone so nice and pretty?

At this point, Ness was volunteering to go to the vending machine for Kaiser, even spending his break there, just waiting to see you again

And finally, finally, his waiting paid off

You on the other hand, just wanted to get a drink

When Ness saw you again, he just starting going off about how thankful he was, and how he “didn’t deserve your grace” (the drink you bought for him was $4)

Once Ness had composed himself, he offered to buy you something in return!

And you weren’t one to deny free food, so of course you accepted 

“If you don’t mind me asking, you’re Alexis Ness right?” you asked as you opened your drink

Ness was overjoyed to hear you say his name, “Yes! Yes yes, that’s me, how’d you know?”

“I think i’ve seen some of your games, you’re the midfield for Bastard Munchen? You’re pretty good”

Ness tired so hard to contain his screaming “Really? Do you think so? I’m so honored!! Actually… I have a game tomorrow here, if it’s alright with you, can you come watch? Please? I’ll pay for tickets and everything!”

He was practically begging you, it made you question how his stricker treating him

“Oh? Yea sure, that sounds fun” you smiled

“Great! I’ll get you VIP tickets! Just for you!” he seemed so excited to have you there “But um… there’s one small problem…”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

Ness hesitated, “Well… VIPs are usually reserved for friends or family… so, you might have to be my friend…” he looked up at you, you could tell he was shaking 

“Alright, what’s wrong with that? Can we not be friends?” you laughed lightly

Ness had to take a moment to process this “You’ll… be my friend!?” his entire face shifted to a huge smile “I promise you won’t regret it! I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had!”

You could only smile at him

“Oh? Alright, I’ll see you at the game then”

>Otoya

You were still mad at him for getting you something as crappy as a candle, but he offered to make it up to you… with a date-

“You really are a f-boy…” you muttered as you met up with Otoya

He laughed “What are you talking about? I’m always genuine in my relationships.”

You mentally facepalmed- why did you agree to this??

“Yea yea, say what you want… anyway, where did you want to go?” 

“I’m down for anything” he shrugged

“Alright then, I’m going shopping for a gift, because someone couldn’t get me a proper one…”

Otoya only laughed “Sorry sorry, my bad. Do you not like the candle?”

You scoffed “It’s a fine candle, but I bothered giving you such personal gifts, things that you’d actually like…sigh, why’d I bother…”

“Oh yea, I wanted to ask, how’d you know what I like?” 

“Well, some of us are actually able to observe things about people”

“So you’ve been watching me~?”

“NO!? I’m just not an ass and am aware of my classmates' likes and dislikes?”

Otoya laughed, “Aww, that’s sweet.”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t take it to heart, I know just as much about our other classmates. Because I’m a decent human being and not some play-boy.”

“Oh?” he smiled “I think I’d like to be your boyfriend~”

“...”

“So you single?”

>Karasu

A little note was slipped to your desk while the teacher was drawing diagrams on the board, and you unfolded it quickly

It was written in your code, and you could tell the writer was very hesitant with their pen. It took you a few seconds to decode it, “I heard you bombed your chem test?”

you glared at the paper. You didn’t fail it, you just didn’t do great… and may or may not have been told to take a re-test…

You rolled your eyes as you crumpled the paper and put it away, sending a glare at the writer

Karasu only smirked as he silently laughed, he didn’t think he’d find such fun in writing encrypted notes. Otoya had even tried to read one, but he gave up the second he looked at it.

As the bell for dismissal rang, Karasu packed his bag while keeping an eye on you

At this point, everyone else had left the room, it was just you and him. He smiled

“...What do you want?” you asked him, slightly annoyed 

He laughed, “What made you assume I want something from you?” he teased

“You keep staring at me…”

“Can I not admire your beauty?”

“...Otoya influences you too much, you smooth piece of crap.”

This only led Karasu to laugh harder “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but thanks.” 

You rolled your eyes and laughed as well “Just get to the point will you?”

“Alright. I heard you failed your chem test?”

“...noo…?”

Karasu laughed again, if his voice weren't so pretty, you would’ve been done with it by now “You know… I’m top of the the class in chemistry, I could totally tutor you”

“Really?” you looked up at him “Are you serious?”

“Yea sure, why not. Since you taught me your code, it’s only fair.”

You smiled “That’d be great, thanks Karasu!”

>Reo

Reo had been following you around for the past two days, it was really starting to bother you

Even your classmates were asking about it! “Hey [Y/N], why’ve you been around Reo so often? Why is he always asking about you? Is he cheating on Nagi with you-?”

“What?? No-”

“Hi [Y/N]!” speak of the devil… Reo came by your class again as school ended. Everyone else slowly left the area “Will you play soccer with me?”

You sighed “No, Reo. I’m busy.”

“What? No you aren’t, I checked your schedule, you don’t have practice today.”

“WHAT??” you turned to him “You checked my schedule??”

“Yea?”

“.... You’re really creepy…” You picked up your bag as you prepared to leave

“Wait wait, cmon. Just one game.” Reo followed you out the classroom “I’ll pay you.”

Now he had your attention

“Fine.” you turned to him “One game.”

Reo smiled “Great! I’ll meet you on the field in 2 minutes!”

As the two of you played, Nagi was watching from the sideline, unwilling to participate. “It’s too much of a hassle…” is what he said

The score was now 9-2, with you in the lead. You stopped, “Reo, I think you’re done…”

The purple boy was almost out of breath “No… I can keep going…”

You sighed and put the ball away anyway “Sit down and take a break, you didn’t even warm up properly…” 

Reo took his bottle and downed the whole thing, clearly exhausted

You let him catch his breath before you spoke “Good job, you’ve improved”

Usually Reo would brush off compliments as he got them quite frequently, but this meant a lot to him

He’d been practicing for the whole week, and someone noticed! He was unusually happy

“Thank you!” he said with a smile

You weren’t sure why but seeing him happy… you don’t think you’ve seen him like that before. You smiled

“You know Reo… I’m off practice for the whole week…”

“I know.”

“.... well- I could help you practice if you’d like?”

His eyes lit up “Really? Thank you so much! I promise I’ll make it up to you, I’ll buy you whatever you want!”

A/N: MASS UPLOAD LET'S GOOO

[yandere-writer-momo]

🌶️ Yandere Baki Shorts:

Haunted 🌶️

Yandere Poltergeist Retsu x Afab reader

Minors Do Not Interact

Will you please buy me coffee?

“Now you won’t find a house quite like this one again!” The realtor exclaimed as he guided a young woman through the antique house. It was so strange to find a traditional Chinese home in Japan of all places, especially for such a low price… she couldn’t beat it with the way the housing market was. “It’s completely furnished and it’s already quite advanced for its time.”

(Your name) nods along with the realtor. She ignored his ramblings of all the traditional decor. She just wanted to move in as soon as possible to get out of where she was currently. Any home was better than where she resided.

“Now before you buy this place, I am obligated to tell you that someone died here.” The realtor told (your name) with a grim expression. “But it happened many years ago when this house was first built.”

“Oh… that’s not a problem-“

“It was a murder.” The realtor interrupted her. “Something about the lover’s spat? I’m not entirely sure what the story is.”

“That’s perfectly alright. I’ll take it.” (Your name) smiled at the realtor. She couldn’t beat a bargain like this… it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Yes… once in a lifetime.

.

.

.

(Your name) unloaded the last box from her car and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her eyes glanced over at the small stack of boxes in the living room.

It was a blessing that the house was already furnished, it meant she didn’t have to spend a fortune on furniture now.

(Your name admired the oriental decorations around the home. It was an extremely traditional home but she found it to be relaxing… almost like she’s been here before…

There was a part of her that felt like this home was familiar. That this specific house was somewhere she has been before despite her never seeing it until now. She was feeling dèjá vu.

(Your name) carried a few of the boxes towards the master bedroom to begin to unpack. She folded and hung up a few clothes, her hands smoothed out the wrinkles.

A yawn escaped her lips, the woman frowned a bit. Maybe she should take a nap before she continued? It’s not like she had a lot to unpack still… it could wait.

(Your name) stretched a bit and made her way towards the large king sized bed with red silk sheets. It was strange that they were so clean but who was she to complain? The scent of amber and mint lulled her into a quick sleep.

A coldness filled the room, the clothes were picked up by a seemingly invisible force as they were neatly folded and put away.

A chill racked through (your name)’s body, a few strands of her hair stuck straight up in the air. A pair of cold lips affectionately pressed against the strands.

“My húdié… you’ve finally come home to me…”

(Your name) stirred a bit in her sleep but didn’t wake up from the coldness in the home. Instead, she nestled herself deeper into the blankets.

The apparition ran his fingers through her locks, his dark eyes refused to leave her face. His soulmate was finally home with him again… and this time, he’d never let her go…

.

.

.

(Your name) woke up a few hours later with a refreshed feeling. She hadn’t meant to nap for that long, but her body thanked her for the much needed rest. It’s been a while since she’s slept so nicely.

(Your name) slung herself over the bed, her eyes glanced at the boxes she had left to unpack… but they weren’t there.

(Your name) rose up from the sheets to check out her closet, only to see her clothes were out away exactly the way she puts them away. Huh… maybe she did finish unpacking before she took that nap…

(Your name) decided not to think about it too much since she was still in the process of being awake. Perhaps she should grab a bite to eat?

(Your name) entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to see there was a container in there with her name on it… that was strange.

She opened it to see a neatly made lunch box. It looked delicious…

“How thoughtful…” (your name) smiled as she began to eat the thoughtfully prepared me. It was… “delicious.”

(Your name) savored the meal, unaware of the figure that observed her from the corner. Her tastes were still the same… he was so happy that she hadn’t changed after all these years… it made everything so much easier.

.

.

.

(Your name) noticed a strange presence in her home. She constantly felt eyes on her and sometimes she’d feel a cold draft whenever she was in bed or curled up on the couch. It was bizarre but it didn’t make her afraid… just uneasy.

(Your name) spent most of her time reading in the garden. The peonies and azaleas were in full bloom. The pink and white flowers gave the garden such a cozy, romantic feel to it. Someone must have loved whoever they built it for more than anything in the world…

(Your name) admired the koi fish in the pond that swam under the lily pads. The lotus flowers were fragrant warmed her heart.

“I love it here…” She couldn’t believe she had bought this house for such a steal. This place was a dream come true… she couldn’t believe people didn’t want to stay…

(Your name)’s fingers touched one of the lotus flowers with a smile. They were so beautiful… a shame she couldn’t pluck them.

(Your name) roses up and began to collect her things, unaware of a certain figure that sensed her dissatisfaction.

When she ducked back into the building, the ghostly figure plucked the lotus flower out of the pond.

“Anything to make my húdié happy…”

.

.

.

To say she was shocked would be an understatement at the sight before her… the lotus flower sat in a glass bowl on her counter.

“W-what?” She made he was over to the counter to check it out in confusion. Who could have plucked it for her?

(Your name) felt a chill go down her spin when something cold touched the back of her neck. She whipped her head around to see what touched her, but there wasn’t anything there…

“H-hello?” (Your name) asked softly. But there was no response… this was so strange…

And the haunting began…

.

.

.

(Your name) would wake up to the scent of breakfast being made every morning but there was never a single dirty dish. Only a plate sitting on the counter for her to eat and a freshly brewed cup of tea.

It’s been like this for the last few months… almost like she was getting breakfast made for her by her spouse…

Did she have a stalker? Who would go so far out of their way to take care of her?

She’d swear she’d hear someone humming next to her while she slept but there wouldn’t be anyone there… she was starting to become afraid…

Could it be a relative of the person who died in this house that didn’t want this house to be owned by anyone other than family?

(Your name) messaged her realtor about who the person was that died in this house. She wanted answers… there wasn’t a single logical explanation for the bizarre happenings in this house.

She was just grateful that this person, if she could even say that, only held utmost admiration for her.

A ghastly figure frowned at her dissatisfaction. She didn’t want to leave did she? No… he wouldn’t let (your name) leave him again… she was going to stay this time.

.

.

.

A call in the middle of the night woke her up from her deep sleep. The young woman groaned in annoyance but answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s the realtor… and I found something super spooky about that house.” (Your name) sat up, she was no wide awake at his words. Spooky? What did he mean by spooky?

“And what did you find?”

“Well, there was a couple that lived in that house almost a hundred years ago. Their names were Kaioh Retsu and… (your full name).” (Your name) froze in pure shock. The person who lived in this house was her? What?

“Please tell me you’re joking-“

“No. I wish I was… this Kaioh Retsu was an esteemed Kenpo master and he built the house for his wife, (your name).” The realtor began to ramble. “It seems he was really obsessed with his wife. He did everything for her so it was crazy when she killed him.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold. Killed him… his wife murdered him? Why? Why would she kill her doting husband?

“I did some digging and it seemed he killed all of her friends and family since they didn’t approve of her being with a foreigner. They say she died shortly after murdering her husband.” The realtor sucked in a breath. “The picture of the wife in this photo looks exactly like you… I’ll send it to you.”

(Your name) began to shake like a leaf at the photo. She looked eerily similar to the wife but the man… the man was far more handsome than she expected. He had a muscular physique and long black hair that was in a braid. Retsu didn’t look like the type who would murder his wife’s family and friends…

“Pretty freaky right-“ Her phone suddenly shut off. The woman feeling a cold presence behind her and what felt like hands on her waist.

“Who are you talking to?” A deep voice whispered in her ear. And that’s when she saw him… the man from the photo. Kaioh Retsu.

(Your name)’s eyes were wide in shock and horror. Ghosts weren’t real… what?

Retsu wrapped his hands firmly around her wrists.

“(Your name)… don’t be scared.” Retsu’s hands cupped her cheeks. But rather than the warmth of flesh, all she felt was a cold draft touching her skin. “It’s me… it’s your husband, Retsu.”

(Your name) could only tremble as the apparition slowly became more visible as a man rather than a cloud of mist. Even in such a ghostly form, she could tell he was still handsome.

Retsu smiled at her. He was glad she found him physically attractive just like she used to. She didn’t have as many friends anymore nor did she have a family. It made it all the easier…

Retsu leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. His hands eagerly explored her soft flesh.

“My húdié… I’m so happy you’re here.” And with a light force, he pushed her back into the bed. His icy hands pushed her shirt up, the frigid touch made her shiver. “My beautiful wife…”

“W-wait! I’m not-“ His lips pressed against hers to silence her protests as his fingers harshly flicked her nipples. A soft whine escaped her lips at the motion.

“You’re still sensitive here… where else are you still sensitive?” Retsu’s hand dipped down between her legs, his expertly fingers stroking her clothed cunt. “It’s been almost a century since I last touched you and you’re still so beautiful…”

(Your name) threw back her head when his fingers hooked around the edge of her panties and pushed them off to the side to dip his cold fingers inside. Her cavern tightening around the foreign intrusion in shock.

“You’re tighter than I remember… but maybe that’s because you don’t remember the shape of my cock?” Retsu chuckled at her glazed over expression. His fingers thrusting in and out of her warmth at a speed that wasn’t human. “You sound so beautiful, húdié and you’re so wet.”

She was lost in bliss, stars were practically seen from how his thumb grazed over her clit so deliciously. This ghostly man was better than any vibrator she’s ever had… she was close.

“Ah!” (Your name) threw back her head, her orgasm rocked through her body like an earthquake. Retsu smiled down at her satisfied expression. She’s never had such satisfaction before… not from anyone or anything…

“My wife looks so happy… here. Let me give you more.” Retsu gently began to discard her clothes off her limp body. The man sung her praises the whole time. “You’re so soft… so lovely.”

(Your name) didn’t have firm to bask in her bliss before she felt something cold and thick press against her entrance. Her body sitting up a bit to see that Retsu was now bare before her. His traditional clothing discarded to reveal himself to her.

And without a word, he pushed in. Her head thrown back as a strangled cry escaped her lips. Retsu simply smiling at her reactions.

“You’re being so good for me… you’re taking me so well.” Retsu shushed her whines, his fingers wiped away her tears. “We’re one again… I’m finally with my wife again.”

And Retsu began to slowly thrust himself in and out of her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He was the perfect size and the right amount of thickness to make her feel so full… she felt so satisfied.

“Does it feel good, my húdié? I want to hear you…”

“Y-yes… I feel good.” (Your name) cried out when Retsu slowly started to get a little rougher. “P-please don’t stop!”

Retsu smirked, his hips postponed into hers at a pleasurable speed. His hands grasped her hips upward to hit her at her favorite angle. His perfect wife was still the same… and he was determined to keep her this time.

“I can make you feel like this all the time… won’t that be lovely?” Retsu chuckled when he noticed her tethering towards another orgasm. “I’ll give you endless love and pleasure forever… all you had to do is say it.”

“Retsu!” (Your name) cried out, her fingers digging into his arms to try to get a grasp on herself and the overwhelming pleasure she felt. This was entirely all too much for her to handle…

“Say you want forever with me!” Retsu grunted, his thrusts border lining brutal to try to get her to comply to what he wanted.

“I-I-“ (your name) could feel her orgasm right there. She was so close… so close… “I want to stay with you forever!”

And that’s when the biggest orgasm she’s ever had racked through her body. The sheets a mess as Retsu fucked her through it. Her eyes rolled back and her toes curled with pleasure.

Her body went slack but Retsu kept gently thrusting into her. The ghost pressed cold kisses all over her exposed skin. His teeth nipped at her nipples with a smile.

“Of course you can… you can stay…” (Your name) felt a wave of fatigue wash through her but Retsu kept moving. “You’ll be so happy when you wake up.”

.

.

.

(Your name) screamed I’m horror at the sight of her body in front of her. She was a ghost now… what happened?

“It’s okay, xiǎo bǎo bèi. It’s okay…” Retsu kissed her shoulders in reassurance. The man placing his hand over her eyes. “We can be together now… forever.”

(Your name) tried to flee but she found herself being bounced back by an invisible force when she reached the door.

“Xiǎo bǎo bèi… ghosts cannot leave the place where they died…”

“How did I die?” (Your name) sobbed, hee eyes stared into Retsu’s who’s held a sadness to them. “Did you-“

“Not purposely… I didn’t think I’d drain all your life force.” Retsu shook, the man rushed forward to pull her into his arms. “You weren’t supposed to die! I swear! I just made love to you…”

Retsu began to cry as he held her. “But hey… we can be together now. I promise you that we can enjoy our after life together. I’ll even help you bury your body, okay?”

(Your name) could only sob in his arms as he held her. This was never supposed to happen… she wasn’t supposed to end up being a part of this house with this obsessive man.

She would forever be haunted by him…

[thefabledpheasant]

I watched a video of Jensen ackles opinion on the scene in 7x17 where Dean returns Cas’ coat, and he said it was out of character for Dean to have it folded up like that. Which I thought was really interesting because I disagree completely. Dean, as a character, is extremely emotional. He feels a lot and he cares a lot and so much so, that he has to repress so much of it to get through his life.

Whether you ship Destiel or not, Dean obviously cared tremendously about Cas. During Cas’ very brief stint as Emmanuel, Dean tells him: “I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't - I don't know why.”

While I do interpret this as an indication of his romantic feelings for Castiel, either way, this line is Dean stating very obviously that what happened with Castiel has been weighing very heavily on him and he thinks about it a lot. It also shows just how deeply he cared for Castiel.

The trench coat is the last thing left of this person he cares about. What’s he supposed to do with it? He wouldn’t throw it away. THAT’S out of character. I think it’d be in character for Dean to burn the coat as as a final goodbye, the traditional hunters funeral, but it’s canon that a part of Dean believed Cas would come back. The line is in the promo for the episode and Jensen & Misha even mention it being in the original script. Which means no burning the coat.

Then what is he going to do with it? He wouldn’t just throw it somewhere haphazardly. When you lose someone, you treat whatever is left of them with the love you have for the person that’s gone. That’s grief. So, OF COURSE he folded it nice and neatly. I don’t think it’s out of character at all.

When it comes to the fact that he had the coat with him in a stolen car, that’s when we definitively cross the threshold into romantic territory. I think the place the coat made the most sense, from a platonic perspective, is stored somewhere in either their cabin or Bobby’s house.

Dean had to constantly, purposefully transfer this coat from stolen car to stolen car. The coats only purpose is to remind him of Cas. It’s not like the coat actually does anything. Cas doesn’t NEED the coat, so it’s not like he kept it on him at all times because it’s important that Cas have the coat if he were to come back.

I don’t personally think it is out of character for Dean to do what he did. I think Jensen thinks it’s out of character because he viewed the whole thing as romantic and doesn’t believe Dean is in love with Cas. And while I agree the whole thing feels romantic, I don’t think the act of folding the coat neatly is inherently romantic or out of character. It’s just grief.

[vmpiires]

❛ INFINITY — 無限大

choso x f!reader ﾉ MDNI

𑂻𑂴 summary. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ you and choso go on a “date” and choso opens up about his family

𑂻𑂴 tags. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ choso (non-curse), mid 90s AU, nsfw, female anatomy, stoner!choso, mentions of going broke, possible sexual content, canon/modern lore mixes, etc.

𑂻𑂴 a/n. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ i almost forgot about this story BUT IM HERE. reblog to support meeee and enjoy :D (lmk if you wanna be tagged in the next part)

𑂻𑂴 misc. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓂃ㅤ masterlist ,, AO3 — dark mode recommended. WC — 2.35K — part four

@sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3 @exinqiu

“you wanna…hang out? like, right now?” you heard choso say hesitantly over the phone. it was around ten at night and you weren’t busy. you didn’t have anything better to do. plus, you wanted to go out a bit more since you were a bit of a homebody.

“yeah, why not?” you beamed over the phone. “it’ll be fun and i don’t have nothing else to do. plus, we need to hang out more before it gets too cold…winter is around the corner.”

“oh..um, yeah sure. you’re right.” choso answered. though, he was in the clear for the evening since yuji would be spending the night with his friends for a sleepover, the male was still skeptical about somethings.

what if there’s an emergency? what if something happened to his little brother? anything could’ve happened while he was away, not supervising.

you grin excitedly, starting to list multiple places you could go. it took some quick process of elimination just to choose the park. it was simple and it seemed like choso really wanted to go for some reason, so you agreed.

once you got off the phone, you navigate to your messages app and send him a text, ‘oh i forgot to say that if you wanna bring food or something you can.’

now you had to play the waiting game. it was always you waiting longer than five minutes or less than a minute for choso to text back.

well this time you didn’t have to wait. your phone makes a sound shortly after you sent that message. you take a glance down to see that choso loved your message.

‘helping my brother pack. i might be a little late.’

you smiled at the text and urged him to take his time. you thought it was sweet how heavily choso cared for yuji. nothing never went unnoticed around him. he was like a big brother and a mother in one.

you began to put on your clothes and grab whatever you needed before you would finally leave out of the house and make your way towards the park.

the night sky was so clear and perfect. you could see all the stars just from where you were standing. that’s when you started to wonder if choso liked stargazing. how would he feel about that?

you were quickly reminded that choso may not have time for stuff like that since he seemed like a busy man. you could also tell he was the type that wasn’t very exposed to current day activities trending amongst other people.

it’s like he’s trapped in his own bubble.

“hold your hand out,” choso said before lifting yuji’s hand to clip his nails. “now, i’ll be going out somewhere tonight, so i won’t be at home while you’re with your friends…but if you need me, please call me, okay?”

“i know, big brother,” yuji smiled up at his elder brother. choso’s cheeks turned a rosy color before smiling back. “but where are you going? you never leave the house this late unless you picked up work.”

“you’re right but tonight is different…i’m gonna meet our brothers, spend some time outside the house…i shouldn’t be rotting in here all the time anyway.”

choso put the boy down once he finished clipping yuji’s nails and ruffled his hair. he would fold some clothes and place them down into the bag neatly.

“don’t let anybody touch your stuff and break it, okay? you’re allowed to share but make sure they’re being careful. you know money is hard around here and i can barely afford some of this stuff for you.” choso mumbled. his soft expression seemed to turn into a slight frown.

yuji nodded but he couldn’t help but notice his brother’s expression. “are you mad, big brother?”

the dark haired male blinked quickly and shook his head. “no, no. i’m not mad…life is just really hard and i need to probably find a second job.”

working as a bartender is okay for him, he didn’t mind it. but when it came to needing more money to upkeep the house and to satisfy both their wants and needs, he would need a second job.

“then we won’t be able to hang out together,” yuji frowned. it was already hard for choso to make time for his little brother but now it would be even harder.

“i know, itadori…i know. but i’ll make it up to you as best as i can. i promise i’ll never forget about it, okay?” choso held his pinky finger out to yuji. “you trust me?”

“i trust you,” yuji grinned.

“good.” choso smiled as he retracted his hand away from the boy. “now hurry and go grab your coat and your shoes. let’s go, we don’t wanna be late.”

yuji nodded and grabbed his coat from the closet by the front door and put on his favorite red boots before hurrying out of the door, waiting for choso to follow behind him.

after choso drove yuji to the other side of town, choso would make a stop at the corner store and bought another pack of cigarettes and some snacks that you both would like.

it took a little bit of time to make up his mind because he was a bit picky about what he ate but he’d eventually figure it out before heading to the park, finally meeting up with you.

“hey,” choso called her name breathlessly as he jogged over to the spot where you were sitting at. the park was empty, perfect for just the two of you to relax and talk and do whatever came to mind. “i’m so sorry i took so long. i drove thirty minutes from my place, to the other side of town for yuji then back, i’m sorry.”

you noticed his apologetic tone and you nod your head no, smiling at him. “don’t worry about it. like i told you, you didn’t have to rush to get here. i wasn’t going anywhere.”

the two of you finally get comfortable on the grass, eating the snacks you both brought and the drinks. choso noticed you opening a can of beer from the six pack brought with you. the male lifted an eyebrow.

“i thought you didn’t drink..” he said softly. you nod, taking a sip of your beer before sucking your teeth.

“i don’t but it’s nice for the occasion, you know?” you reach down and hand one to choso, offering it to him. the male was about to say no but he considered your next words.

“come on, just one can won’t hurt you. you gotta loosen up a little bit. you’re a busy guy that barely gives himself a break. tonight’s your night, cho.”

the male would light a cigarette and put it between his lips before humming. you were definitely right. choso never gave himself a break. he was always moving. hesitantly, he’d take the can from you and open it, listening to the sound as it hissed open.

you giggled when you saw choso’s face contort to an expression of disgust the second he took a sip of the beer.

“you like this?” he asked.

“i don’t like it either but after a while it’ll taste better.” you reassured. there’s a silence between the two of you as you both sat there, taking in your environment.

trees blowing gently in the quiet wind of the night. lampposts casting dim lights and weak shadows, and the occasional chirping of crickets hiding in the soil somewhere.

choso wasn’t a man of many words so the silence was tolerable but then a thought came to your head. while choso smoked his cigarette and you ate your snacks, you turned to him.

“why’d you wanna come to the park so bad?” you asked.

“it’s from a recurring dream i have. every time i have that dream, i see my brothers here. i just wanted to….i don’t even know. i just wanted to know that this place wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, i guess.”

“do you know what happens in the dream?”

“it all goes by so fast…it’s not that i don’t remember what happens, i just hate talking about it sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize,” you scooted a bit closer to him. “hey, let’s talk about something else. to lighten the mood, y’know?”

“oh..yeah, good idea.” choso nodded slowly, taking a drag from his cigarette. you had an idea already on what to talk about and you were obviously eager. anyone could just tell by the look on your face.

“have you ever stargazed before?” you began.

“uh…no. i mean- i look at stars but…i don’t do it like that. it’s- i don’t know.” he trails off, looking embarrassed and shy when he realized that he’s stumbled over his words a bunch.

“here, lay down.” you would lie down and choso just looked at you as if what you were doing was the oddest thing on earth. you waved your hand, gesturing him to do the same.

finally, choso would lay down, his eyes lighting up at the blanket of stars covering the sky. the stars were beautiful and bright that night. he could see some of them lining up, creating shapes—constellations.

“i love stars. they’re just so pretty.” you comment, “they look so close but they’re just so far…too bad some of them are dead.”

“these stars have been dead for a long time, they’re just now reflecting back to us.” choso chimed in lowly. you sighed.

“don’t you wish you could just be a star in the sky? not having to worry about anything or anyone in the universe, just yourself?”

“i’m not sure if i wanna turn into a star just yet,” choso said. “it sounds like death to me…but if i could run away and live somewhere secluded from society, i’d do it. me and yuji.”

“do you think anybody would miss you?” you frown a little, your expression a bit serious. choso shrugged.

“i have no friends...and if i did, they all died or they’re just people i don’t speak to anymore. i’m that lonely.” he sighed. “i don’t need other people anyway. it doesn’t bother me.”

choso looked at you and automatically felt embarrassed again. he ran his fingers through his medium length hair and shook his head.

“sorry. i overshare a lot.”

“you apologize a lot…it’s not really anything wrong with it, i just noticed that.” you say. “is that just…how you are? if you don’t mind me asking..”

“it’s just how i am, so—never mind. my dad was just so hard on me, i was always apologizing for something and he just kinda turned me into a sorry mess.”

the sudden mention of his father made him frown and he sighed. “i’m glad i don’t live with him…but i would probably stay there just for some money. he’s the typical salaryman with a son that’s broke…or at least, almost broke.”

“does the job you work at not pay enough?” you shifted your body so you were facing choso instead of the sky.

“it helps me get me and my brother some food that would last us a while and probably a shirt. not any of that luxury stuff. the only time i get that kind of stuff is when it’s given to me.”

“okay, that, i think is an exaggeration…every time i see you two, you’re dressed nicely and when we facetime, your house looks nice and clean,” you say. your hand slowly moved towards his but you hesitate to keep going.

“yeah, i guess it is. my job pays pretty well…i guess i’m just paranoid about it not being enough.” choso took a drag of his cigarette. when he felt your hand on his, he’d look down at it then back at you. instead of leaving your hand where it was, he’d take your hand into his.

the two of you were feeling a buzz from the beers you were drinking and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. choso saw the soft smile on your face as you looked into his soft, tired eyes. you saw how his dark hair covered a lot of his face as he laid on the ground beside you.

“you know, i think you’re a really nice guy,” you blurt out. you weren’t even aware of what you were saying yourself. “i really like you.”

“i….” choso’s breath hitched, “uh…i like you too. i’ve liked you for a long time—since we met.” the male could feel his ears getting hot and the tip of his nose was a pinkish color from the cold, mixed with his blushing.

there was a tingly feeling on his face as his cheeks began to warm with excitement and embarrassment. the cut underneath his bandage was starting to bleed again.

“take this off,” you whispered, slowly removing the bloody bandage, revealing the red cut across his nose that’s usually black. you would take a napkin from your bag and once again, clean the blood from his face.

choso was obviously embarrassed. this was the second time you saw his cut but he didn’t really like others seeing it. the male used his hoodie to cover his nose.

“uh…thank you..for uh—for cleaning it.” he mumbled. you smiled at him and pulled the collar of his hoodie down from over his face before kissing him. your lips locked with each others and you both seemed to be in a deep state of excitement and euphoria.

choso never kissed a girl before. he wasn’t sure what was happening or what he was supposed to do but he tried his best to follow your lead anyway.

when you pulled away, you could see the surprise on choso’s face. his face was flushed from being so inebriated just as you were.

you both fell silent. the only noise that existed was your own breathing and the nature around you. choso was sure he wouldn’t remember much of this tomorrow and neither would you…but deep down, he found it hard to believe.

lowkey this took so long to write,, i’m tired 😭 i’m glad you guys like this. i made something happen so…now its time to get ready to wrap it up. also sorry if there’s any mistakes lol

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Reunited: Reaper x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex

It’s been ten years; Ten long, cold and very lonely years since you saw your husband. You remembered the whole day down to the dot, you couldn’t help but wallow is misery from it for so long.

It was a party at the Overwatch base in Switzerland to celebrate Overwatch’s success with an infiltration and he had invited you to stay for a few days. When the fun was over and your stay ended, you bid him goodbye on the plane back your home in California to wait for his arrival. He had gotten clearance for a break from Morrison, family issues is what he said but it was really because he was thinking about settling down and starting a family. You spent the whole day cleaning and cooking for his arrival when you heard of the awful news.

The base had been bombed.

Overwatch agents showed up at your door hours later to give you the news that they could not locate Gabriel in the wreckage, all they could find was his wallet, the very small wedding photo kept in the slip was missing.

Overwatch paid you his insurances and made sure you were taken care of, by protocols and policies- but you didn’t give a shit.

They kept saying he was dead, but you knew it wasn’t true.

He was alive. Somewhere, somehow, but you knew he was alive.

For ten years, you never gave up hope, that there was some slim and nearly impossible chance that he would be found somewhere.

Your life continued on as best as you could. You wake up, go to work, come home and go to bed only to repeat the cycle every day for ten years.

Not once did you lose faith.

It happened about two months ago. You noticed things were off around you, you felt like you were being watched, you noticed things would be moved.

You would come home to a window being open that you knew you had left closed yet nothing was taken.

You would notice things like your bed had been made when you left it a mess during a bout of pressuring grief, dishes that you had left in the sink now clean and put away.

What stuck out the most was that you had heard something go bumo in the night and when you went to go investigate, you found the fireplace mantle had been meticulously cleaned, frames of pictures of you and Gabriel spotless with the glass polished.

The news of Overwatch reforming had broke and had settled in your gut an odd feeling. You knew Gabriel was out there somewhere, but somehow this news had twisted your gut in knots.

It was one of those days, you had been caught thinking over the past, still grieving, still meticulously playing with your wedding ring as you wandered around your house. The stench of cleaning supplies had your nose tingling.

Last night it had happened again. Something had been done as you slept, urging you to go through your house and clean and try to see if something was taken again.

This time something was added to your house.

You woke to find Gabriel’s old Blackwatch beanie on your end table, folded and pressed neatly, still smelling like his shampoo.

You wandered into the kitchen, intent on pulling apart the cabinets just in case whoever it was that was doing this had hidden more of Gabriel’s things somewhere else.

You bent down to start digging when you saw a dark shadow move in the corner of your eye.

You felt a presence behind you, something large and looming. You swore the air around had gotten colder. Your back stiffened, your shoulders squared, and you hesitated on turning around to face the person that was behind you. The warmth was sucked out of your home by whoever it was, you heard the creaking of what sounded like heavy boots- oh how you missed that sound.

Your heart started to pound in your ears, your eyes twitching with tears, your lips quivering as you had to bite your lips to stop from letting out a shaky breath.

The familiar scent of cinnamony warmth hit your nose.

You spun on your heel to face the intruder-

To face him.

“Gabriel?” you whimpered.

There was a big looming figure just behind the archway from the kitchen to the living room. He stood there, draped in black like he normally always did. Instead of his tight and jagged Blackwatch armor that you remember to be all shiny and glossy was now instead black leather and rubbers, a flowy black coat that obscures most of what else he’s wearing. What struck out to you the most was the mask he wore. A bone white mask against the midnight clothes he wore, shaped as though an owl skull tried to play human with the narrow eyes and the high cheeks of the mask. He looked thinner, he looked cold and pained where he stood. His hands were balled at his sides, clawed gloves in tight fists.

“(Y/n),” he echoed back.

How you’ve longed to hear your name spill from his lips once more, even if the circumstances are like this.

“Gabriel, is that really you?” you took a step forward towards the wraith.

“Mi amor-” He mirrored every step you took. “Mi amor, I’m here.”

One step closer, two steps, three until you both had crossed the distance and met under the archway.

“You’re really here…” You gently raised a hand and ghosted it over his chest. God, he really was cold, almost as though he were dead. He made no move to back away from your touch, he stood rock-still before you. You gently placed your hand on his chest, palm flat against the broad expanse of his built body. “You’re alive.”

You looked at the hollowness of the eye sockets in his mask, and somewhere in the darkness, you saw the glints of his eyes.

You moved your hands to his mask, cupping the sharp and jagged jawline. It was colder than he was and bone-smooth. He reached up carefully and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, keeping his eyes pinned to yours at all times.

“(Y/n)-”

“Let me see you, Gabriel.”

Your voice was just barely audible, the wraith tensed under your touch at those words. You both stood in complete silence for god knows how long until he had released your wrists, allowing you to slip the mask off his head.

You gasped softly, eyes widening with tears. He was just as handsome as the day you both met. He didn’t look much different. Still the thick and brooding eyebrows, the dark and warm chocolate eyes, his dark goatee that always prickled your skin in the best ways when he kissed you. His skin had a slight gray tone to it, and his face had a few deep scars along the cheeks and one across the bridge of his nose that was new, but other than that, it was still your Gabriel.

Gabriel softly cupped your cheeks and looked down at you, a few tears slipping past and dribbling down his cheeks.

“You’re just as beautiful as the day I saw you last,” he whispered.

Before you knew it, you both had your arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and necks. Your lips were smushed together as your fingers snatched at the back of his hood while his fingers were buried in your hair. Your mouths melted together, tears flowed from both of you, both of you were shaking.

Finally breaking for air, Gabriel didn’t let you go too far before he grabbed at your waist and hoisted you up without a second thought and carried you to the bedroom he last saw over ten years ago.

Placing you on the bed as carefully as he could, you couldn’t help but lay on your back before him, your hands still grasping at his brawny shoulders. Gabriel placed one knee up on the mattress beside you, climbing on top of you. His hands were on either side of your head, caging you in beneath him. His hood had been thrown back and he was panting wildly, there was something carnal in his eyes.

Leaning back down to capture your lips in a kiss once more, he leaned his torso down just a bit lower so your chests were touching. Your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it, that he could feel being this close to you again.

It felt like it was a dream, some sickly sweet dream that you would wake from and go back to a missing husband in a cold and lonely house.

But it wasn’t.

Gabriel growled into the kiss lightly, it sent tingles and little shocks down your spine and crackled a fire somewhere deep inside of you. You moaned softly into the kiss and snatched at the collar of his coat, fingers scrunching up the smooth leather and dragged him even closer to your body until there was no space between you both.

Gabriel broke the kiss with a soft growl, nosing your chin to the side to leave kisses along your jaw and down the columns of your throat. His cold body pressing against your warm flesh made your face heat up among other places. You moaned softly and he pressed a kiss right over your throat, sucking just hard enough that it would leave a mark surely in the morning.

“I’ve missed those moans, mi amor,” he purred. He took in your scent, hands balling the sheets and blankets roughly under his harsh grip. “I’ve missed the way you felt, the way you smell, the way you make me feel.”

“Gabriel,” you whined. You felt something hard start to poke at you from below. You knew what it was, what was pressed right against your nether area so closely. “Gabriel, I-”

“Say it,” he ordered.

He made eye contact with you and refused to break it. His eyes were wild, pleading, knowing what you are going to say.

“Gabriel I need you. Ten years and I need you more than ever.”

Some deeper hunger settled in his gaze, chocolate eyes going dark and lust took over him.

“I’ve waited to hear those words for years,” he hummed.

He backed off the mattress but kept you laying down on your back. He shrugged off his cloak and allowed the thick leather to pool on the floor at his feet as he toed off his boots. He grabbed at your loose pants and pulled them carefully off your body, down your legs where he took his time to admire the curves of your body so far. He was examining you, looking over the body of his wife, of his lover that he hasn’t seen in a decade.

“Tell me what you want, mi amor, and I will give it to you.”

“I want you, Gabriel. I want you to make love to me.”

Gabriel reached for your hips and drew you closer to him, just enough for your knees to bend at the edge of the bed. He hooked his fingers around your panties and dragged them down, allowing them to fall to the floor with your pants and his cloak and boots. You shivered at your bareness being exposed to the chilly room. Your soft nethers were wet, but to Gabriel, you knew it wasn’t wet enough.

Gabriel kneeled at the mattress just far down enough to pull your knees over his shoulders. Slowly and as gently as he could, he leaned his head forward and parted you with his tongue. It was cold against your hot, moist core. You whined and arched your back, Gabriel grasped your legs so you wouldn’t move as much.

It felt like days that he was licking and sucking at your womanhood, draining you of everything you had, all of the pent-up emotions you’d bottled up for a decade now just evaporating now that he was here eating you out.

Gabriel had pulled away, you’re knees were trembling as he held them. You looked up to see there was a glisten to his goatee from your slick. You hadn’t orgasmed yet, but you felt it was coiled tight within you like a cobra, ready to strike and release and let you climax finally.

Gabriel carefully wrapped your legs around his waist before he went to fumble at his belt and zipper. The damn thing was worse than wrestling a snake, not wanting to move and release until he finally managed to unravel everything and drop his pants to join yours.

You’ve missed him. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed all of this, all of him.

He was gentle, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, smearing the bead of pre-cum that pearled out around the head. He leaned over you, propping one knee up again on the mattress. Ever so slowly, you felt the head of his cock brush against your wet folds, you felt yourself be split from your core as his thick cock spread you apart. You grabbed at his broad shoulders as you gasped, your head turning against the mattress and sheets.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt him slip inside of you. He fit so perfectly, his thick cock stroking the insides of your plush velvet walls just tightly enough to cause blissful friction thts sent your head spinning with supernovas and galaxies before your eyes.

He fucked you slowly, he leaned down to press kisses to your sweaty flesh with his cold lips.

[theoryofwhatnow]

i imagine nigel, in the way any attitude ruled teenager would, aggressively ripping that damn cardigan off before neatly folding it and setting it somewhere upon re-entry of his house after alex rejected him by the fire-pit at the end of the film. muttering to himself and repeating what alex had just said to him in a disgruntled and almost mocking tone before deciding to chase after him.

why did he take it off you ask? is it because he wanted to look sluttier in hopes of winning over alex that way? yes. yes it is because i said so.

[thedroneranger]

Centerfold

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: Jake's favorite duo gifts him an anniversary surprise he'll cherish forever.

Note: An imagine in the To-Do List collection. This one is for @cherrycola27, who came screaming into my dms with this idea after reading Car Wash. 🖤

Third image is what I envisioned for the described panty-garterbelt combo. Courtesy of Honey Birdette.

Warnings: 18+ only, nudity, body parts, adult themes.

Word count: 1.1k

Jake hustled into the house, worried he was going to be late. Tossing his keys on the table in the entryway, he thudded up the stairs to the bedroom. As he crossed the threshold, he pulled his shirt over his head. Once he could see again, he stopped in his tracks. There, on his side of the bed, lay a neatly wrapped package. Curious, he walked over. 

As he approached, Jake read his name in her handwriting on the card tucked under the bow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jake pulled the package into his lap and unearthed the card. 

Enjoy. xo

He sat the card beside him and tugged the bow until it fell apart. Once the ribbon was off, he lifted the lid to find a square black leather book with “For your eyes only” debossed in the middle of the cover. He ran his hand across the small words and curled his fingers around the edge to open it.

The cover page read, “Happy anniversary.” A smile graced his lips as he flipped to the next page to see her leaning out the window of his 1967 Ford Mustang parked on a scenic cliff somewhere along the coast. Her chin rested on her haphazardly folded arms, and she was smirking into the camera. Jake loved everything about it.

His smile widened as he turned the page to see her in the first of several traditional pinup poses. 

She donned an open black bomber jacket that revealed just her sternum and the inner curve of her breasts. A gift from Jake to mimic his flight suit, it bore his squadron patches and a call sign patch that read “Mrs. Hangman.” She paired it with the most delicate black lace panties and garterbelt. Jake wasn’t sure how the belt was even holding up her stockings. She was perched on the hood of the car, legs on full display.

In the next photo, she was standing back to the camera, looking over her shoulder, clutching a soapy sponge against ‘Stang, the nickname they gave his vintage muscle car. A smirk curled Jake’s mouth as he noticed she was clad in the infamous black triangle bikini and high-waisted cutoff denim shorts.

The outfit took him back to the day he came home to find her washing ‘Stang in the driveway. His heart began to race as he thought about her riding his lap in the front seat parked in the garage. The mental replay had him shifting in his seat. For a minute, he tried to think about less sexy things to keep himself together. After all, he still needed to get ready for dinner.

Clearing his throat, he thumbed further through the montage, enjoying each pose of his favorite duo.

The upcoming page was thicker than the previous ones. Interest further piqued, he turned it to learn it was the middle of the book and folded out twice its size. 

“Holy…” he trailed off as he unfurled the centerfold to reveal her draped naked across the hood. ‘Stang’s shiny chrome grill with the iconic wild mustang galloping in the center was the least impressive part of the image. 

She was casual yet sultry with her elbows resting on the hood and her temple pressed against the knuckles of her interlaced hands as she stared at Jake from the page. Her biceps strategically covered her nipples, but left the bottom swells of her breasts exposed. Suddenly, Jake had cottonmouth.

When his gaze fell upon her barely parted pouty lips, he felt a sudden rush of blood to his lap. Her hair was also mussed just right and her skin had a certain glow, reminding him of how she often looked after they fucked.  

Next, he was drawn to the slope of her shoulders that led to her back then her waist and finally rolled up her perfectly shaped ass. The soft curves of her thighs trailed to the backs of her knees where her legs extended off the hood, jutting into toned calves and ending with perfectly pedicured toes. 

Jake’s fingers traced her figure on the page. His mind autofilling the feel of each curve.

“Do you like it?” Jake jumped up, nearly dropping the book. Instead, he caught it by the pages. Terrified, he inspected it and found no damage. Once he was sure his gift was ok, he looked at his wife in the doorway.

Immediately, he did a double take as she leaned against the door jamb, donning the bomber jacket outfit from the book.

She swaggered over to Jake, and together, they sat back down on the edge of the bed. She sidled up to him so she was pressed against his side, a hand planted behind him on the bed as Jake held the book in his lap. “We should look at the second half,” she added. 

Jake looked between her and the book. “Do we have time?” He was thinking about their dinner reservation.

Her smile said it all. She folded the pages back in, so they could browse the back half. “These are a little more intimate,” she added.

His mouth fell open as she flipped the page to reveal herself nude and laying upside down in the driver’s seat. Her forearms tastefully covered her breasts as her hands cupped her neck. Head hanging off the seat, her hair cascaded out the open door. Her long legs reached up to the ceiling, the balls of her feet anchoring her.

Mesmerized, Jake held the book as she reached across him to reveal another set of images. On the left, ‘Stang’s hood was open, and she was leaning into it with one leg popped. All her scandalous bits in shadow, but the lighting perfectly shone the silhouetted curves of her backside and supple breasts. 

On the right was a straight-on view of her wide hips, round ass and long legs as she leaned into the trunk. Of course, she was naked, but her core was shadowed perfectly to keep the image in good taste.

They finished the rest of the book, her flipping pages as Jake stared in awe. In his wildest dreams he had not thought about having a keepsake of professionally shot images of his wife and vintage car. 

She closed the book and slid it off his lap, revealing an impressive bulge. A smile pulled her lips as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. His green eyes were dark with lust. “We’re gonna have to skip dinner…” he trailed off, as she straddled his lap.

“That was the plan.” She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

[scribbling-dragon]

nighttime hauntings

summary:

(ao3 link)

(4,317 words)

heyy! happy halloween! as a gift have my personal little silly thing that i had a bunch of fun writing, don't question the worldbuilding too much! (you want to reblog this soooo bad and leave me nice little comments in the tags, soo bad <3)

The tarmac is cool beneath his feet – well, paws? They're paws right now, but they're feet a majority of the time. And ‘feet’ refers to anything you stand on, probably, so till feet…just paw-shaped right now – as he waits patiently. Maybe a little impatiently, hopping from one foot to the other, claws clacking against the cool ground.

The bell jingles and he jerks his head up. He almost smiles, before remembering that such an expression is truly horrifying when he’s like this – Scott had made sure to tell him as such when Jimmy last did it to him, and the siren usually prefers to coat his words in much more honey. The insult wasn’t even thinly veiled, it was just an insult.

His tail begins wagging, almost on its own, as the person he was waiting for steps out onto the darkened street.

He lets out a small bark as greeting, watching as his friend looks up, before smiling at him as well. He stops to check the road before bounding across, skidding to a stop at Tango’s feet. The barista is still smiling, that oddly restrained smile that only just shows a peek of his teeth.

“Hey, buddy,” Tango crouches down, reaching out a hand to stroke along the top of Jimmy’s head. “I’ve only got a few things for you today, but I'm sure it’s more than enough.”

Jimmy can’t respond to him right now, but he hopes the wagging of his tail is enough to communicate that even the smallest of scraps are always enough for him; as long as Tango is the one bearing those scraps, he’ll happily take whatever is given to him.

He takes the piece of food – some kind of croissant? He’s not sure what exactly it is, but it’s tasty, even after sitting on a shelf for most of the day – carefully between his teeth, making sure not to accidentally nip Tango. He’d never forgive himself if he did that, even went so far as to refuse taking food from Tango’s hand for the first few months of their little arrangement.

Tango smiles down at him as he finishes chewing, before standing up straight. The small box the scraps came in is neatly folded into a cardboard square and disposed of in the nearest bin they pass by.

Tango walks quite briskly, as though he has somewhere to be. He doesn’t, Jimmy knows. Not in a weird way! Or a creepy one! He just never leaves the house after Jimmy walks him home, choosing to stay inside. He doesn’t think Tango has very many friends, otherwise he wouldn’t be choosing to take the closing shift at a café that operates on disgustingly early and late hours. He would probably also be leaving his house between shifts.

Again, not in a creepy way! Jimmy is just slightly worried about Tango…they may have only had a few conversations in passing when Jimmy has chosen to visit the café as a human-shaped patron, but he likes to think he has a pretty good feel for the man next to him.

Tango’s hand rests on his head as they wait to cross the road, the flickering orange lamp only briefly illuminating the zebra crossing. Jimmy sits dutifully at his side, scanning the darker corners that Tango wouldn’t be able to see into with his subpar night vision.

Only when Tango lifts his hand from Jimmy’s head does he begin to move again, trotting at his heels.

It’s only a short walk to Tango’s apartment building, but it’s a rather dark one. Tango chooses to take more risks than he really should, crossing through darkened alleyways with little fear. The absolute lack of self-preservation has Jimmy’s heart going a mile a minute, jumping in his chest at every flickering shadow or small sound.

He growls at a rat that startled him, an entirely embarrassing encounter that has Tango cooing over him and stroking his ears; he feels hot under his fur, mortification sliding heavy down his spine as he resists the urge to hide his face. He’s only lucky he can’t blush like this, or any blush he would have is hidden beneath a thick layer of fur.

And, as always, the moment of parting arrives with the looming of Tango’s building.

He can’t help the way he slows his steps as they approach, mourning the end of their small journey for the evening. It would be far more convenient to start an actual conversation with Tango, either inside of his workplace or outside of it, the way his brothers have been telling him to. But he’s far more comfortable with everything as it is right now, and these small walks don't give him the opportunity to ruin everything with a blurted sentence that should have stayed internal.

A hand lands on his head, its weight comforting and familiar.

“See you soon,” Tango gives him that same odd smile, lips barely pulling back from his teeth. “Stay safe, alright? I’d be sad if my little buddy stopped showing up to greet me.”

Jimmy would equally be upset if he was no longer able to accompany Tango on his walks home. The city is dangerous at night, especially with all the creatures living within a small radius of each other. Jimmy can name three different vampires that live within a mile of Tango’s home. And those are only the ones he knows. Goodness knows what would happen if Tango chose to walk home on his own down those dark and disgusting alleyways.

Jimmy makes a small noise, ears drooping slightly as he presses his head forward for a final goodbye. The smell of coffee and sugar invades his senses briefly before he’s pulling away again, watching Tango let himself into his building.

Only when he sees the door click shut behind Tango and automatically lock does he turn to leave, trotting down a different alleyway in order to return to his own home for the evening.

=== === ===

Tango’s not entirely sure when the semi-regular routine began. Only that the habit is well-worn at this point, meaning it’s been at least two months. It takes two months to form a habit, apparently, though some people do it quicker than that. He, however, is a creature of habit and takes a while to adjust his routine.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he finds that he’s already packed away several scraps, and bits of food that would go to waste at the end of the day otherwise, into a takeaway container, ready to give to his nightly companion.

He locks everything up inside first. He’s not going to rush out the door and become an incompetent employee just to go and see his furry friend quicker. Even if said furry friend is incredibly cute and really quite endearing, especially when he does the impatient little tippy-taps with his paws as he waits outside.

A normal person wouldn’t be able to pick up on such a tiny sound, but Tango strains his ears as he does one final sweep of the café, listening for the almost inaudible sound of claws clacking against the tarmac.

He smiles a little when he hears it, making his way towards the door, container tucked carefully beneath his arm. The keys jangle as he takes them out to lock the door, turning around in the small porch and locking the doorway.

He gives the handle a small test, finding that it resists, before finally turning to greet his friend.

“Hello, hello. Yes, yes, I'm sorry,” he crouches down to be more on the dog’s level, smiling at it as he reaches out to give it a quick pat on the head. “I didn’t mean to be so late, but, ugh, Tiffany- I've told you about Tiffany before, right?” The dog tilts its head to the side, though its ears perk forward as Tango speaks.

Tango knows full well that he’s currently having a conversation with a dog, but he can’t help it! He works the closing shift on his own most of the time, none of his co-workers choosing to stay past six p.m., when it starts to get a little bit too dark, or too late at night. Most of them are students at the local university, and they all have early lectures. Tango doesn’t mind taking the later shifts – much prefers taking them, actually, seeing as he doesn’t have to lug his stupidly old and stupidly heavy umbrella around with him– especially not when it helps out those he works with so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods along like the dog responded to his earlier question. “Of course I've told you about Tiffany before, she’s, honestly, sorry for what I'm about to say, but she’s such a bitch. She came in, five minutes before closing. I’d been cleaning all the tables ready for closing and begun to stack the chairs, and she comes in and is all like, oh, so sorry darling,” he drags the darling out, “yeah. She says it just like that- and she comes in so sorry darling, but I've just got to have this coffee right now. You’d understand wouldn’t you? Working so late all the time, ugh, it must be so hard. Like, God, yeah, imagine not living off your husband’s money, Tiffany – I know far too much about this woman’s life, like, no, I am being paid minimum wage to sit and listen to you complain about your third husband’s spending habits, I don't actually care.”

He huffs out an exasperated breath, sagging forward momentarily. Still crouching right in front of the dog means he leans forward and directly into the dog, which does a rather valiant attempt to keep him upright.

“Ugh, sorry, I don't mean to complain. You're here for the scraps, I'm sure,” he pulls the box out from beneath his arm, setting it on his lap as he begins opening it, folding the cardboard edges away from each other. The dog whines, scraping its foot against his leg, before looking up at him with its incredibly sad and watery eyes.

He’s not actually sure what kind of dog it is. When he’d first been approached by it, he’d been taking the waste food out to the bins behind the café. He was certain he was about to be attacked by a rabid wolf, or something. As far as he knows, the only werewolves currently living in the city is a tiny pack of three, and all of them live on the opposite side of the city to him. But in that moment he’d been certain that he was going to be mauled to death by another creature of the night.

Instead, the hulking beast of an animal had sat down at his feet and given him the saddest little look ever, eyes large and watering until Tango had offered up a rather squashed croissant to it.

After that small encounter, he’d tried to find out what kind of dog it was, searching for it first online, and then resorting to a dog breeds guide at the nearby library, in the hopes that he might find what kind of dog was walking him home most weeks.

The most he’d been able to conclude was that it was probably at least half-wolf, though the other parent is unknown. Dog and wolf – both dolf and wog had sounded incredibly dumb, and the dog looks more like an overgrown, slightly shaggier family golden retriever than a wolf.

And it still doesn’t have a name.

He offers out the half-croissant he’d saved for it today, watching as it takes the treat carefully from his hand. He’s fed a few street dogs before, though none of them this consistently, and all the street dogs in the past had bitten at his fingers as they snatched the treat from him, desperate and starving, and willing to rip out someone’s throat to make sure they got the treat.

The delicacy with which this dog takes the treat only reinforces the idea that this dog was a family pet, one that was left behind when it only continued growing and the family could no longer cope with having such a large dog.

It licks his fingers for the last crumbs of the croissant before pulling back and looking at him with those same sad eyes.

“On better topics,” he begins, watching how the dog perks up at the sound of his voice. He almost wishes it were smaller, so he could at least try to sneak it into his apartment. “The cute guy came back today,” he strokes a hand absently over the dog’s head as he talks, “I still didn’t manage to get his name, oh, it’s so embarrassing. Joe – co-worker Joe, Joe that we like – makes fun of me for it every time, says it makes me incapable at my job the moment he walks in. I just can’t help it! He always sits at the window, and gets the same thing every single time. I mean, I get the same thing every time, I can respect that, but I still don't have his name.” He buries his face in his arms, ceasing the absent pets he was giving the dog. “Man, it’s embarrassing. I don't even know his name and he’s a regular. He comes in nearly every evening, and just sits in the window, perfectly aligned with the last bits of sunlight in order to make his hair turn golden.”

A wet nose presses against his arm, before an entire head forces its way through his crossed arms. He pulls back with a short laugh, pushing the dog backwards, hands on its chest.

“Ugh, just ignore me. I'm tired,” he sighs, hauling himself to his feet. “I forgot to have something to eat before I left for work, and now I'm starving.” The dog continues to look up at him as he walks, eyes fixed on him, wet and glittering under the occasional street lights. Despite it’s overall air of patheticness, it seems to be doing rather well for itself. It’s certainly not skinny, despite living right on the edges of the city, and it hasn’t been attacked by one of Tango’s hungrier neighbours yet.

…Though, that might be more to do with Tango than sheer luck.

He’s one of the older vampires in this part of the city, and most of the other ones are content to stay out of his way as long as he stays out of theirs. And he may have been rather unsubtle in his fondness for this particular dog, even going so far as to mark him with a small sigil – one only visible to other vampires, letting them know that they should keep their hands off. The sigil is small and unnoticeable when he doesn’t look for it, fading into background noise.

To other vampires, though, it’s like a blaring light that screams at them to stay away or face his wrath. A rather effective deterrent, if he may say so himself.

He crosses into the shadowed alleyways quickly, feeling far more relaxed here than under the pools of lamplight. The dog, however, presses closer to his legs worriedly, a low whine building in the back of its throat for the first few seconds, before cutting off rather abruptly.

Tango hums to himself, reaching down to pat the dog on its head, stroking a hand over the unruly tufts there in an attempt to smooth them down.

He moves quicker through the dark alleyways. The dog doesn’t like walking through them, but it’s far quicker than taking the main streets, even if these are darker and a little more…disgusting. Still, the dog seems happier when they finally emerge from the twisting maze of brick and crawling moss, wagging its tail again and straying a little further from his side.

Still, he feels more than a little bad when he turns to face it on his doorstep, crouching down again to bid it goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” The dog tilts its head at the exact same time he does, looking even sadder than it had when he first stepped out the café. It would almost be worth it, getting kicked out of his apartment, just to smuggle the dog inside for an evening. “And I’ll have something better than half a croissant next time, I swear.”

The dog wags its tail twice before stopping again, watching from its spot as Tango backs up towards his apartment building. He gives it one last wave before he pushes through the doors, pulling it shut behind himself.

When he glances back through the glass, the dog is already gone.

=== === ===

Jimmy waited patiently, tail curled neatly around his paws as he watches the door carefully. There’s been movement inside for the past few minutes, despite the closed sign already being flipped. Meaning its almost time for Tango to emerge from the darkness and come greet him with a smile.

He’s been worried about Tango recently. His apparent lack of friends aside, he’s been looking paler than before, almost sick with it, and he’d been stumbling yesterday when Jimmy went in for his usual coffee. He wasn’t able to get close enough to check on him then, standing at the respectable distance that humans normally choose to keep between themselves. But now, shifted and covered in a layer of fur, it’s far more acceptable for him to get that close.

He perks up at the sound of jangling keys, hopping to his feet and crossing the road before the door even finishes closing.

Only to skid to a halt before he can reach the person- because it’s just a person, not Tango.

He begins backing away, only to be caught in the act as the person turns around to face him. Another co-worker, one that Jimmy vaguely recognises as Joe, both from his visits to the café and Tango’s stories about his day.

“Heya there,” Joe waves to him, wiggling his fingers slightly at the end. “Didn’t think you’d be here tonight, looking for your buddy?”

Jimmy doesn’t make any response that would indicate understanding, simply continuing to stare up at Joe. He doesn’t know what to make of Joe, something uneasy prickling along his spine as he stares up at him. He’d never been able to get a read on the guy, but something about him just made Jimmy feel…off. Uneasy. Not unsafe, never unsafe, but healthily wary.

“Aw, well, he’s out sick today. He’s not been looking good recently, so you might not be seeing him for a bit.” Joe locks the door as he talks, turning his head over his shoulder to face Jimmy. He’s still smiling, oddly enough. “I'm sure he’ll be back, right as rain, soon enough! Nothing keeps Tango down for long. Nothing can keep Tango down for long,” Joe laughs. Then stops laughing nearly as quickly as he had begun. “You’d better run along, I've got no scraps for you tonight. Not that you’d take them from me, I don't think.”

Joe watches him for a moment longer, before making a gentle shooing motion.

Jimmy feels as though he's been broken from a trance, abruptly backing up before turning away, beginning a slow trot away from the café as he thinks. He still doesn’t feel good around Joe, and that right there was creepily similar to the time when Scott wanted to show him what a siren could really do with their voice. But there was no urge to offer himself up to the man, only a need to stay and listen to whatever it was he had to say.

Whatever Joe is, Jimmy has no interest in finding out.

Disappointed in how his evening has turned out, he slips into the forest rather than making the trip back across the city. He’s not looking to be teased by his brothers about this when he’s not even managed to see Tango. He’d much rather kill a rabbit, or something.

Or, he turns his head, the iron tang of blood filling his nose, perhaps he doesn’t even need to hunt down an entire animal. There seems to be some kind of injured creature out here that would be far easier to catch than the effort required for digging into a burrow.

He follows the scent deeper into the forest, only pausing to make sure he orients himself correctly and can find his way back to the city later.

The path zig-zags, as though the prey was desperately blundering its way through the undergrowth in its panic. Several leaves are dotted with crimson beads of blood, and the trail is laughably easy to follow. He keeps his nose to the ground anyway, snuffling along the small path of broken twigs and crushed underbrush.

A snapping twig has his ears pricking forward, a pained sound following afterwards.

He leaps forward, crashing through the bush ahead of him and ignoring the thorns that scrape along his sides as he lands. He almost slips on the leaves, skidding a little further than he had expected to.

The scent of blood is incredibly strong here, and it only takes him looking up to realise why.

Tango leans against the tree, another body beneath his own a dark shape. The pained sounds are coming from said body, though Tango seems to be ignoring them entirely, in favour of- in favour of…

There’s a wet sound as Tango pulls away from the person, turning to peer over his shoulder with squinted eyes. Those squinted eyes then rather quickly widen- and it’s the first time that Jimmy notices the red sheen they have to them, almost bright enough to glow.

What catches most of his attention, though, is the blood dripping down his chin, staining most of his lower face with it.

His heart in his throat and feeling as though he’s about to be sick from stress, he skitters back when Tango turns fully to face him. Somehow, he’s managed to not get any blood on his clothes.

He bursts back into a human, clothes settling heavily over him as he staggers to his feet, reeling backwards. “Holy shit!”

“Holy- what the hell!” Tango leaps to his feet as well, wide eyes now even wider. “You're- what!”

“You're a vampire!” He shouts back, confused and also more than annoyed with himself. “What- how didn’t I know? How the hell did you do so well at hiding it?”

“You- I didn’t know that you were a werewolf! Weredog- whatever!”

“I'm a werewolf,” he snaps back. “Not a dog.”

“You sure look like a dog,” Tango plants his hands on his hips, far too confident for someone that looks like he got dunked into a can of red paint. “A big dog, sure, but still a dog.”

“I'm a wolf, thanks,” he bristles. “And you're a vampire! You- is that guy gonna be okay?”

Said guy makes another pained sound.

“He’ll be fine,” Tango says. His voice is more than a little dismissive, only sparing a singular backwards glance over his shoulder. “He’ll just think he had a little too much to drink and ended up somewhere he doesn’t remember going.”

“And he’ll be fine?”

“He might need to eat a little more, replenish his blood. I don't know, man, I'm not a doctor.”

“If you're regularly draining people of their blood, then you need to be a little more careful.”

“I don't- this isn’t a normal thing,” Tango sighs. “I just haven’t been able to make time for the past few weeks so I was…a little more hungry than usual. This is a worst-case scenario.”

“Just, ugh, how didn’t I know?”

“How did neither of us know?” Tango turns the question back around. “God, we must be some pretty tremendous idiots to not have realised. C’mon, don't I smell like blood to your super sensitive nose?”

“No?” He blinks, “You smell like coffee, and sugar.”

“Oh, uh, alright,” Tango’s brows furrow together. “Mind if I get your name, by the way? You kept avoiding me at the café when I tried to ask. Makes a little more sense now, I guess.”

“I, yeah? I'm Jimmy, nice to meet you?” He groans, “This is weird as hell. You're covered in blood and I'm telling you my name.”

“Hey, hey, I've been trying to get that name for a while now.” Tango wags a finger at him, “Don't be weird just ‘cause this is weird- could be weirder, let me tell you.”

“Uh-huh, how could it be weirder?”

“I could ask you on a date now rather than tomorrow,” Tango smiles at him, small fangs poking over his lips as he watches. Waiting for a response. “It wouldn’t be to a café, for obvious reasons, but there’s a nice museum nearby that-”

“You want to ask me on a date?”

“…Yeah?”

“I just, ugh, why? I was going to ask you on a date months ago and decided against it!”

“Aw, you shoulda asked me,” Tango frowns. “There was an even better museum exhibit a few months ago.”

Jimmy opens his mouth to say something, but just starts laughing instead. He can see Tango watching him, from behind the tears forming in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to stop laughing for another while yet.

“You're an idiot,” he manages between laughing.

“In a good way, or…?”

“Yeah, sure, in a good way.” He sighs, “What the hell, yeah, I’ll go on that date with you.”

“Wait, really?” Tango seems to light up, completely ignoring the blood on his face and the guy slumped over behind him. “Oh, how would you feel about dinner afterwards? On me, I swear.”

“As long as I'm not dessert,” he laughs.

Tango giggles alongside him, “Only if you offer, sweetheart.”

[zombiigrll]

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☆ ON THE EDGE ⋆ CH.2 ⋆ YOUR SPOT ☆

.ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.8K

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-

'i'm rick grimes, welcome to alexandria.'

-

your eyes widened slightly at what seemed like a pretty instant decision. you were sure it was because of how you flinched when he almost shot you, or the fact that you were obviously younger and not seemingly a threat.

once you realized you were staring for a bit, you cleared your throat and nodded vigorously. "oh, yeah, sorry. thank you."

you followed him into the gates, and into the yard of what he called alexandria. "i'll show you around later, but i think you would like a shower?" rick asks, walking in the direction of what you assume was his home.

you look down at your clothes, and examine just how dirty you were compared to everyone else. "yes, please." you laughed, following him into his house.

he walks up to a bedroom, and tells you to wait outside of it. you lean against the wall and wait for him to come back out.

"here, some clean clothes." rick smiles, handing over a neatly folded pile of a shirt, flannel, and sweats. "these are my son's clothes, but you can borrow them for now."

you carefully take the pile from him, trying your best not to drop it or mess it up. "thank you."

"of course. the bathroom is right there, take as long as you need and i'll be back to show you around later." he waves as he walks away.

you wave back at him before stepping into the bathroom. it was clean, and honestly felt really weird to be in. i mean, months of your only 'shower' being the rain, of course it'd be weird to see a real shower.

...

after a while of sitting in the shower, and re-familiarizing yourself with how to take a shower, you were cleaned and dressed.

you wiped the fog off of the mirror that was hung above the sink, and took in your 'new appearance.'

brushed out hair, clean face, clean clothes, clean everything. you hadn't even really seen yourself for months until now. the next thing you needed was probably a haircut, but you set that thought away to be a discussion for another time.

you exited the bathroom a bit anxiously, looking around for rick. but instead, you spotted a boy.

he was wearing a sheriff's hat, had a bandage across his eye, long brown hair, and a light blue eye.

he looks over at you from behind the kitchen counter, setting a cup down. "can i help you?"

your eyebrows raise. "uh.." your mind goes blank, unsure what to say. "why do you have an eyepatch?" you blurt out, mentally facepalming once you realize what you had asked him.

"why are you wearing my clothes?" the boy snaps back, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

you nod. "sorry. um, what's your name?"

"i'm carl." he takes a sip of his drink. "now, who are you?"

"i'm y/n." you sighed. you felt so anxious, like there was a knot growing in your stomach. "i.. sorry i stole your clothes. your dad said i could borrow them. i think he felt bad because he almost shot me."

carl's eye widens, along with his brow raising. he chuckles lightly. "of course. it's fine, i don't mind."

you sighed in relief. a longer sigh than you meant to, but apparently you were holding your breath at some point.

before you could say anything else, the front door opened. it was rick, again.

"i see you two met." rick smiles, setting his bag down. "i'm ready to show you around, y/n."

you turn and nod to him before waving goodbye to carl.

...

the tour was quite short. he showed you where the nurse was, their armory, their food, all of it. he also informed you that you could stay in their house unless you found somewhere else.

so, you returned back to the grimes' household.

rick told you where some blankets and pillows were, and said you could just bring them back to the couch. you made the couch into your own little bed, and once you sat down, it felt like paradise. you had been sleeping on rocks and sticks forever, so it really was the softest thing you’ve ever felt.

you turned on the television, and it started playing a cd that hadn’t been paused previously. it was a colorful cartoon, and it seemed to be some sort of halloween special.

you were entranced by the moving pictures, tuning out everything around you. that was until you heard the sound of someone running into a wall.

you quickly turned your head to the noise, and spotted the one-eyed sheriff.

he looked at you with widened eyes, like he had been caught. he was wearing a backpack, and had his gun around his waist.

“are you okay?” you inquire, examining his features and panicked expression.

he takes a moment to respond, rummaging for an answer. “uh, yeah.” a sigh leaves his mouth, averting his eyes. “just.. don’t tell anyone you saw me leave. i’ll be back in the morning.”

you twist your brows, making a curious expression at him. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.“where are you going?”

“don’t worry about it.” he dismisses your question and swiftly exits the house.

you watch him walk out the door, and you couldn’t help but start getting your shoes on. you were worried for him, although you knew he knew what he was doing, and you were also just curious. you didn’t have anything to lose anyways.

you grabbed your knife as you quietly walked out the door, following a good distance behind him.

he walked for quite some time and didn’t notice you, but you recognized the direction he was going toward. it seemed to be the same direction you found the comics at.

you watch him sit down, rummaging through the box from before. you turn to get a better look, but accidentally step on a stick that cracked beneath your feet.

carl jumps, quickly pulling his knife out, but then he spots you. you put your hands up defensively.

“…really?” he groans, putting his knife away and picking his discarded comic back up. “what the hell are you doing?”

you silently shrug, sitting down across from him. “this is your spot?”

“yeah, why?” carl's eyes stay peeled on his comic as he speaks to you.

“i slept here the other day.” you mess with your nails as you talk, a wave of anxiety flooding over you. you were never a really anxious person, so you couldn’t pin exactly why you were so anxious now. maybe it was the unfamiliarity of acceptance.

he raises his eyebrows with a nod, laughing to himself. “did you read my comics?”

“…maybe.” you sheepishly grin at him, to which he smiles back.

he sets his comic back down to look at you. “where were you before you came to alexandria?”

you press your lips together nervously at his curiosity. you didn’t think he would ask so many questions, but you felt obligated to answer them. “i wasn’t really anywhere. i’ve always been in the woods, just by myself. you and your dad were the first people i’ve talked to in weeks.”

“is there a reason for that?”

“is there a reason to you asking me questions?” you jokingly ask, laughing to yourself a bit.

he laughs along with you. “sorry. if you wanna ask me something, you can.”

you think for a moment. “uhm..” your mind goes completely blank.

you could tell that he was aware of your lack of social interaction. he looked intensely at your nervous expression. “don’t feel pressured.” carl reassures you, giving you a sympathetic smile. “take your time.”

you nod. the only question that could come to your mind being “do you have any siblings?”

he nods. “yes. my little sister, her name is judith. she’s pretty young, she was, uh.. born during all of this.”

you smile at him, the sound of a little girl was something you don’t hear often. “i wanna meet her. i had siblings, but i never really saw them. they were always busy. same with my parents.”

you didn’t know why you felt so comfortable dumping things to the boy, but he was just so… calming? the way he looked at you as you spoke, he was completely entranced.

“where were your parents?” he softly asked after a moment, sounding understanding that it could be a sensitive topic.

you simply just shrugged. “i don’t know. they were always just gone.” it was the truth. you never saw them, and they never told you why. they never could now either.

carl sympathetically nods. “i’m sorry.”

your eyes widen, his reaction leading your mind leading you to believe you could’ve overshared. it wasn’t out of character for you to do so. “no, no, i’m sorry. i.. i didn’t mean to overshare or something.”

“hey, calm down.” he calmly spoke. “i don’t care. i asked you, and you answered. you didn’t overshare.”

you awkwardly stared at him for a moment before quickly averting away, a lopsided grin appearing along your face.

you guys had just met a few hours ago, and you already felt so much. you were overwhelmed by it all. his kindness, his attitude, his humor.. and well, i guess his looks, as well.

all in a positive way, of course. he was like nothing you'd ever seen before. he was beautiful to you, in every way possible.

you looked back up to him, moving your knees up to your chest and resting your chin atop of them. "so.. do you go back home, or do you sleep here?"

"i usually come here when i can't sleep." he answers with a laugh. "if you're tired, you can go back."

you shook your head quickly. "no. i don't want to go back."

"do you want me to go with you?"

"no." he looked at you, not believing your answer.

he shrugged nonetheless, picking up a comic. you watched him silently until he looked back at you. "do you want a comic?"

you nodded, moving over to his side. he hands you a random comic and continues to read his own. you open it up, and just.. stare at the page.

like the last time you were here, you really just stared at the pages of the comic, looking at the pictures instead of reading. carl took note of this, setting his comic down again.

"are you okay..?" he laughs at your blank expression.

you look back at him, feeling your chest get tighter in embarrassment. "..i can't read it." you quietly spoke. you could feel your face getting hotter as his expression turned from perplexed to understanding.

but, instead of him judging, he took the comic from you. he set it down where you could still look at the photos, then began reading it for you.

he did slight dramatic voice acting, which made the both of you laugh. it was a very heartwarming moment for you, and you'd hope it was for him as well.

and then, you started falling asleep next to him.

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Nine.

Another week, another chapter, besties! Thank you all so much for your love for this story. It really means so much to me :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,869

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

The high of it rushed over him, swathed him in its warm tingles, senses soothed from all that had led up the moment there with her. Laying worship upon her body with every press of his lips, hands praising in stroke, she was like opium pouring warm over a persistent ache. Her arousal lapped at her like a gentle influx of water soaking a shoreline, fingers tangling into the soft black of his hair, jolting as sweet affection made way for the razor edge of his lust, teeth nipping at her hip.  

His mouth trailed lazy licks to swirl over her skin, lips pressing against the soft, neatly trimmed blonde curls at her apex, until those licks dipped low and pressed firm. Honeyed throbs of pleasure swelled, his tongue rolling slow, hands stroking blazes up and down her thighs, her pretty little moans adding further sound to the noise of his mouth moving keenly over her slick.  

Velvet heat rubbed greedily through her folds, bringing focus to her clit, shouldering her thighs to drop parted again when they closed in on him, his elbows pressing down to keep her spread while he held her hips still. She arched, humming a seraphim’s sonnet, the tingle of her arousal glimmering through her core, the silky nectar of such beginning to run dewy onto his tongue, evoking a baritone rumble from somewhere deep in his chest.  

He panted against her, cock rapidly swelling, fingers digging crescents onto her hips as his eyes found hers over the rise of her heaving tits, winking, sucking her bud until she cried out over and over. It pulled full bodied trembles from her, shaking like she’d been plunged into glacial waters, his mouth locked tight as he sucked harder. 

The crest ploughed hot through her veins, his hands running over her, two fingers pressing into her mouth, depressing her tongue as she sucked them, Luca keeping her jaw in a tight grasp as he moved to kneel before her, cock snagging her opening, a hard push daggering into her deeply. There was no containment, each thrust him carving out room inside of her, filling her wholly, making her whine in bliss around the suck upon his fingers. Emptying her mouth, his hand curled to her throat, pushing her into the bed beneath his grasp, smiling at the grey fire that flickered in her seductive stare.  

“Like it when I hold you down, don’t you, bella donna?”  

“Ah, ah fuck, yes!” she cried out, hands smoothing down his arms in a torrid glide as he drove her hard into the bed. “I want you deeper in me, please, please!”  

Hauling her hips up, he shunted his thighs beneath them, cock arrowing to her very depths. “Better?”  

“Oh my god, yes it is!” she wailed, watching him grin before he leaned to kiss her with wild heat, hand once again moving to grasp her throat as they moved against one another with wild friction. Her cries began to louden, drifting through the top floor of the house, reaching the ears of a woman walking up the stairs on her way to the bathroom. Filomena winced, hoping they would be finished soon, but knowing from personal experience they likely wouldn’t be.  

She paused at the bathroom door, rethinking her desire to soak in the tub before dinner if the those were the kind of sounds that would continue reaching her ears, sadness and jealousy colliding as she heard the beautiful young woman enjoying all that she still coveted. She missed him, no matter how terrible a husband he’d been to her with his infidelity, and there he was, having a great time, balls deep in his new girlfriend.  

The bath could wait.  

While she walked away with hurt prickling her chest, Emily was experiencing the surge of pin pricks skittering up her spine, her lover’s hand fisted hard in her hair as he held her head back, pounding her esuriently from behind. Her walls radiated heat, Luca slowing, his lust blown eyes drawn to the sight of her twitching around him, hand landing in a hard spank on her ass.  

The noise it pulled from her made him repeat it again in an instant, his thoughts thickened, heart hammering, her moans lower, primal, his insides throbbing in response. The grasp woven tight in her hair slackened, his hand sliding to cup beneath her jaw, pulling her up until her back was against his chest, knees pivoting them slightly to the left.  

“There,” he rasped, mouth planting hot, open-mouthed kisses across the column of her throat, watching her eyes find their reflection in the huge mirror located in the corner. “Now you can see what I do, how goddamned beautiful you look while you’re gettin’ fucked, amore.”  

Those words sizzled over her marrow, her hand reaching to grasp the back of his head, turning to meet his mouth in a fever-hot kiss, his groan like summer thunder rumbling a darkened sky. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, everything winding tight, Emily fixated on the mirror glass, the visual of seeing herself being sexually domineered so thoroughly only adding to the scalding pleasure.  

The sound of his cock daggering into her soaking plush sounded lewdly, their moans culminative, sweet nirvana pulling them both into its abyss. Afterwards, they lay happily entwined, his leg draped over her hips as he stroked the path of her cleavage with a fingertip, her hand idly trailing over the dark hair upon his thigh.  

“I wish we could stay up here, avoid the rumbling storm downstairs,” he spoke quietly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.  

She turned, a small dent of confusion dimpling her forehead. “What I saw from the window didn’t look like bad weather?”  

“It wasn’t,” he confessed, sighing. “It’ll likely be on the way again, though. She told me that she wanted us to try again, and that I should send you packin’.” He waited for her to react with trepidation, maybe even concern, especially after the events of that day and how shaken she’d been left by them for a time, but it didn’t happen.  

“I’m going nowhere.” What they had just shared upon the bed cemented that for her more than any other words he could have spoken.  

“I know, cara mia.” Another kiss was placed upon her shoulder, his hand moving to lavish at the side of her neck. “I told her that, too.” 

“Do you think she really means it, or is it more a case of her playing some kind of game because I’m here, and she has to witness that?” 

He thought for a moment, stuck between the knowledge her usual form and the sincerity he’d seen in her eyes when she’d revealed her desire for reconciliation. “I think that she believes it’s what she wants. How bona fide that is, I don’t know.” He pulled her close, lips meeting hers. “Don’t care, either.”  

They basked a little longer before moving to dress, going downstairs to find his children all sitting at the large dining table on the back porch, being entertained by Greta performing simple little magic tricks for them. It was how she’d met Angelo, being a magician’s assistant, hired for a party he was at with his family back when they were both in their late teens.  

“You lookin’ forward to tomorrow, boys?” Luca asked, his question directed at Jack and Harry, Angelo and Greta’s nineteen and seventeen-year-old sons.  

“Yeah, uncle Luca,” Jack replied, beaming with enthusiasm. “I get to use a real gun for once, it’s gonna be swell!” 

Angelo had raised his boys exactly as he was with his; not to turn out to be wiseguys. Being kids of poor Italian immigrants, it had been a natural progression for him and his cousin, with very little in the way of genuine prospects. The money they made meant their kids didn’t have to choose that path, not unless they truly, truly wanted to. They’d been sent to the best schools in New York, Angelo’s boys were in college, too. It was definitely a more favourable climate than what they’d grown up in. 

“Please can I come too, pop?” Guiseppe asked, his big, hazel eyes full of hope that a shake of his father’s head dashed in an instant. 

“No, boy. You’re too little still for handling a shotgun. Maybe next year, alright?” 

He huffed, folding his arms while kicking his feet in annoyance beneath the table. “I guess.” 

“Your dad is right, son. Leave it a little while longer.” Filomena spoke, sequestered at the other end of the table. With a martini within her clutches, mouth set to slightly puckered, Luca looked at her in assessment for only a second, noting that she looked more sad than bitter. Throughout the dinner, he did attempt to engage her in conversation a few times, Angelo and Greta, too, but she only really spoke at any length to her children.  

In her quietness, she observed, watching the way her husband interacted with his new love. Luca was never overstated when it came to publicly displayed affection, and still wasn’t, but Filomena noticed a difference in him for certain.  

While he and Angelo spoke of what trail they would take with Robert, the local guide coming to collect them at 5am the following morning for a day of buck hunting, his eyes might have been on his cousin, but his hand rested to Emily’s wrist, fingers gently circling while she and Greta chatted between themselves. A while later, he had her feet pulled onto his lap, idly stroking her from ankle to toe, looking at her with pride as she enthused over the works of Walt Whitman to Angelo, who remained unconvinced, not being much of a reader.  

Emily was everything she wasn’t, and how sorely she resented the lovely young woman for it. It was made even harder by the fact that truly, there was nothing to hate. She was sweet and kind, involving the children in the conversation, Guiseppe and Alessio seeming to take to her very naturally. Her only triumph was that Milania remained indifferent towards her love rival.  

Getting up from the table, she lifted Alessio into her arms, a little wobbly on her feet.  

“Get off, I’m fine,” she snapped when Greta put a hand out, helping steady her. “I can carry my son to bed without any help. C’mon, Guiseppe. You too.”  

“But mom! That ain’t fair. I bet Milania gets to stay up,” he whined, earning an eyebrow raise from his father. 

“She’s older, when you’re fourteen you can stay up past nine, too. Go on, go with your mom,” Luca advised, the boy huffing before he rose, saying goodnight to everyone. Finishing his drink, he looked over to his daughter, noticing the look of worry she wore in her eyes, eyes identical to his as she watched her mother enter the house, chewing her lip a little. “What’s with that face, tesoro?”  

The girl sighed, looking conflicted as she fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her dress. “Can I speak with you privately, daddy?” 

His forehead creased with concern, nodding as he stood up. “Of course. C’mon.” Holding his hand out, he waited for her, Milania grasping it tightly as he led her back into the house, walking through to the deserted kitchen and switching the light on. “Now, tell me what the matter is.” 

Sighing, she let her shoulders drop, folding her arms. “It’s mommy. I’m worried about her. Ever since you told her about Emily, she’s been acting funny. Not ha, ha funny, but strange. Like she’s sad. The doctor gave her some pills and she was better for a little while, but she’s drinking a lot, too. Like, I know adults like a drink and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I saw her drinking neat gin the other morning. She lied and said it was a glass of water, but I smelled the glass afterward. Wasn’t water.”  

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long, deep breath through his nose. “She just needs time to get used to it, honey. She’ll be fine, you’ll see.”  

“I think she wants you to come home. Says she misses you all the time,” she confessed, her eyes pleading. “Won’t you ever come back?”  

He shook his head. “No, sweetheart. That door closed a long time ago. I wasn’t the best husband to your mom, you’re old enough now to know that. You three kids were the best things to ever happen to us, but us together, we weren’t a good fit.”  

Milania snorted softly, rolling her eyes. “And I suppose Emily is?” 

Oh, that attitude. She was a teenage him in female form. “Hey, you cut that out. Emily ain’t done nothin’ bad to you, or anybody else. And yeah, she is a good fit. You should try and get to know her a little, you know.” 

“Don’t wanna.” 

He couldn’t force it, he supposed. “All in your own time, I guess. Listen, you keep an eye on mommy for me, though, right? If she gets worse with the hooch, you let me know first.”  

She nodded, moving to hug him. “I will, I promise.” 

“Good.” He kissed her hair, stroking her forehead as she pressed herself against him tightly.  

“Love you, daddy. I miss you, too. Wish I got to see you more often.” 

A little sharp tug pulled in his chest. “Love you too, cuore mio. And Brooklyn ain’t the moon, you know. You wanna see me more? Just call and I’ll send a car. Come by whenever you like, you hear?” 

She nodded, smiling up at him, receiving a kiss to the forehead. “I will.”  

Milania headed up to bed, Luca going back outside, noticing Emily’s questioning look. “I’ll tell ya later, doll.” 

He did when they’d turned in for the night, stroking her arm as her hand lay in idle press against his chest, seeing the understanding in her eyes. Of course, this would strike a chord with her. “If it is a problem, then she certainly hides it better than Bertha ever did,” she began, referencing her mother. “She couldn’t even stand up half the time, just lying there on her chaise, wallowing in self-pity and rum. Maybe it’s just a few nips here and there to ease her sadness?” 

“That’s what I was thinkin’, too,” he spoke, “but either way, I told Milania to keep an eye on her. Not that a fuckin’ fourteen-year-old kid should have to, but there ain’t anybody else.”  

“Has she always liked the drink?” 

He shook his head, remembering how it was usually her having to put him to bed if he was in a state, back when he did used to drink a lot in his wilder, younger days. “Nah. She barely touched it the entire time we were married, except wine with dinner and the like. That’s why I gotta little spark of concern, y’know? Don’t want the broad plastered outta her head while she’s meant to be takin’ care of my kids.” 

Kissing his shoulder, she cuddled into him closer. “We have all weekend with her, too. I’ll keep a discreet eye on her, see if I can tell the signs. Back when my mother was still trying to hide it, I learned to read her like a book. I’m sure she’ll be fine, though. One thing I can tell very evidently about Filomena is how much she loves those children. I doubt she’d ever get in the kind of state where she couldn’t take care of them adequately.”  

Luca could only hope she was right. He rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around her, extra thankful for the fact the woman he loved was so simple and uncomplicated. He rose at 4:30am the following morning, washing and dressing, laying a kiss to her head as she slept, he and Angelo eating a quick breakfast and filling up on coffee before they were escorted out by Robert in search of anything with antlers.  

Emily woke up at 8am, a small hand shaking her.  

“Emily, can you come? Mommy is still asleep, and she locked the door.”  

Coming around more, she rubbed her eyes and yawned, nodding while climbing out from beneath the covers, picking up Alessio. “Sure, I can. Come on, little guy.” 

Walking right to the other end of the house, Guiseppe and Milania were also still in their nightclothes, the latter viewing her with the same mild contempt as she had since they’d met the day before, Emily placing the youngest of them down and reaching to knock the door.  

“Filomena, you awake yet?” Nothing. Holding her ear against the smooth, white painted wood, she listened carefully, relieved to hear the sound of her snoring. Turning back to the children, she fixed a big smile on her face. “I think your mommy is tired and enjoying a lie in. Tell you what, if you guys can go and get yourselves ready, I’ll go and sort you out some eggs. How’s that?” 

“We have a chef for that,” Milania pouted, folding her arms while lifting her chin defiantly.  

Emily took it completely in her stride. “Alright, then I can tell the chef what you’d like, and meet you downstairs?”  

“We can tell him ourselves, god! We’re not imbeciles!” Off she huffed down the hall, Emily sighing. Guiseppe looked on at her with an apologetic smile, reaching for his brother. 

“I’ll help the tyke here, make sure he brushes his teeth and all that. And can I have my eggs scrambled? Alessio likes ‘em soft boiled.”  

At least two out of three children weren’t so hostile. “Of course, you can. See you downstairs.”  

Once washed, her curls pinned up save a few free strands framing her face, eyes darkened with kohl and an outfit of her wide legged slacks, a white blouse and deep green cardigan were chosen, she went downstairs, finding Greta positioned in the dining room with a cigarette and a coffee, reading the newspaper.  

“Love those pants, dolly,” she began, giving her an appreciative sweep with her eyes. “Didn’t know Chanel did ‘em in kid's sizes.” 

Oh, her beloved Greta. She was such a tease. Reversing back from where she’d entered the kitchen, Emily raised a single, well-groomed eyebrow. “Less of the attitude towards my little legs, huh? But yeah, Luca’s cousin took them up for me since they were touching the floor.”  

“Vincenzo is a master with a needle and thread, I’ll say,” she spoke of the man who made the custom-tailored suits for her husband as well as Luca. “Are we the only ones up?” 

“The kids are getting ready,” Emily replied after a few moments, coming back in and handing her a bowl containing the other half of the grapefruit she’d just sliced for herself, the chef otherwise engaged in organising the pantry. “Filomena is still sleeping off the martinis, though. I didn’t say that part in front of the kids, so keep it under your hat.” 

Her eyes widened, leaning in across the table. “Well, yeah. I nearly followed her up the stairs last night, just in case she dropped the little one.” Picking up the coffee pot, she poured out a cup, pushing it across the table. “We all like a good drink now and again, but she seemed a little messy.”  

“I don’t mean to judge, but it turns out it’s been happening a lot.” Keeping her voice low, Emily revealed all, Greta cocking her head with ever widening eyes as she learned of the latest.  

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she exclaimed softly, lighting herself another cigarette, offering one across the table that was accepted with thanks. “And to think the woman barely drank for so long, too. Wine with a meal and a cocktail here and there, as far as I remember.” 

Her ascertain was confirmed with rapid nodding. “Yes, Luca said exactly the same thing!”  

“What did my daddy say?” Milania asked upon entering the room, fixing her icy stare right at Emily.  

“Nothing important, sweetie. Are your brothers on their way?” 

“They are, and I’m not your sweetie either.”  

“Hey!” Greta pointed, Milania jumping a little. She’d thought her sass would go unreprimanded, with neither of her parents around. “Now you remember your manners, you hear? Don’t think you’re too big not to get your ear clipped. Show some respect, young lady.”  

“You’re not my mother,” she sneered, turning to Emily, “and neither are you.” 

“No, we aren’t, but if you carry on, your father will hear all about you and your smart yap, missy. I’d button it if I were you,” Greta warned, Milania rising from the table with a huff, flouncing towards the back doors and heading outside. “Kids, eh? All full of hormones, especially at her age.” 

“Yeah, and resentment because in her mind, me being in her father’s life is causing her mother to behave the way that she is.” It was only Saturday and already, Emily wished for nothing more than to hightail it back to Brooklyn, after what had already come to the surface so far. “She’s too young to get it, that they were broken long before I came along. She likely wouldn’t hear of it being mostly her father’s fault either, since she idolises him so very much.”  

Greta sat and marvelled, thinking to herself how Emily might have been quite soft and naive in a lot of respects, but god, she had a very strong root tethering her to reality. She made no excuses for the truth of the matter concerning the man she loved, which was a rarity, especially in a relationship only sixth months into its tenure.  

“She’ll come around in time. The more she sees how happy you make her dad, and when her mother pulls herself out of this little blip. It’ll all be okay, dolly. I’m certain. Now, what are we doing today? I thought we could take the car and head into town? There are some beautiful, quaint little stores in Linlithgow we could venture down to?” 

Emily smiled, liking that idea. “Yes, that’d be nice. Let’s get breakfast out of the way and wait for Filomena to rise, and we can head out.”  

That rising was another half hour from then, the women having successfully drank a pot of coffee between them and also been talked into a round of eggs Benedict each by Hubert, the chef. Walking into the dining room, Filomena acknowledged them with only a nod, heading through to the kitchen.  

“Hubert, can I get some bacon and my usual eggs, plus a bloody Mary?” She hung around by the kitchen doors until being furnished with her drink, taking it and glugging back a mouthful before leaving the room without word. Greta leaned as far as she could in her seat to see through the open doors into the lounge, witnessing the concerning sight of her topping off the drink with yet more vodka.  

Turning to Emily, she made a drink motion with her hand. “Yeah, I think the kid is right. Her ma has a problem.”  

[blueaetherr]

can you write about mbappé where he’s out and sees a fan wearing a psg jersey with his name, she noticed him staring, just smiled at him and kept walking but that somehow made him want to get to know her. he stopped her and she told him that she hates attention so he got her number. you can decide on the ending:)

just for you

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where natural attraction occurs between two individuals

The evening was young when the house party began. Casual and comfortable too, as young adults moved freely in the home to do and say as they wanted, conversations both intellectual and easy present to accommodate everyone's interests. Food laid out neatly, everyone vibing with the current tunes playing and discussions in session. It was safe to say that the party was moving smoothly, and it remained the same as Kylian arrived later on.

To protect his peace he would never admit it but Kylian loved house parties. As much as he loved football—dedicating his life to perfecting his craft as a profession—he, too, as big as he was, understood that sometimes he needed to step away from the sport for his own well-being, to destress and unclog his mind from the worries of tomorrow. And attending house parties was the perfect alternative, something familiar and cosy he could always ease into.

Heading out of a room, somewhere deep in the house, Kylian noticed something from the corner of his eyes. A PSG jersey, more specifically someone wearing his PSG jersey. She seemed to be in pensive thought, just casually in her element as her focus remained on the art hung up on the wall to inspect it, unaware of the presence inspecting her from afar. Until she was.

Noticing such presence from afar she turned towards Kylian with a blank stare. "I-I'm sorry," he stumbled, taking a few steps back. He had been so lost in his gaze, innocently observing her for no apparent reason, that he had forgotten how he might be received. "I wasn't trying to, I just came from—"

"Don't even worry about it." Suddenly, the blank stare turned into a timid smile, one friendly and rather inviting. "I mean while you're here, you might as well..." she added, waving Kylian over.

Initially, Kylian was careful in his steps towards her. He didn't know if he should invade her space considering he'd failed to respect it not even a few minutes ago. But the more he moved towards her, her smile failed to fall flat, failed to show any signs of discontent and discomfort towards him. So eventually he found himself standing beside her, and let his eyes wander to the art piece she had been inspecting. Instantly, his face screwed up. "Oh, I get what you mean."

The young woman shook her head, almost in disappointment. She folded her arms. "I'm just confused. Like what exactly am I looking at here? Like, I get art can be perceived all kinds of ways or whatever, but nothing comes to mind with this." She turned to Kylian, hopeful. "What do you think?"

Kylian huffed and thought for a quick moment. "I don't know. I mean it's—" he had to chuckle a bit. The artwork spoke to him as abstract and surrealistic but even he didn't know what he meant when he said those words, so did his opinion really hold any weight? "I have no clue."

"You think our party host knows what it's all about?" She wondered, inspecting the art further.

Again, Kylian had to laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. He knew the host, his friend, prioritised the appearance of the artwork in his house over its meaning. "I don't think he understands any of the art pieces he owns."

Then this—a moment of bonding over unjustifiable art—led to the pair sharing a conversation, shifting between intellectual and easy. And it was here where his initial thoughts were proved wrong. Sharing names Kylian came to learn that he was speaking to Y/N, someone who enjoyed art but not enough to pursue it as a profession. Instead, she was an explorer of activities and knowledge; she liked to do and learn new things on the regular.

Their conversation didn't carry much substance to it, simply just casual talk, laughter and opinions yet Kylian found himself engaged. From the moment he noticed Y/N from across the hall to where they were, he was there openly tuning into her words, her hand gestures as she spoke rather freely and watching out for all her reactions to everything he said to her.

The conversation, this person he was sharing it with, it was the exact thing that Kylian searched for whenever he wanted to step away from football. Y/N offered him something familiar and comfortable and friendly even though she had been just a stranger not even an hour ago.

From a moment of silence, quite from nowhere, he mentioned, "I think we should hang out more." It was something Kylian chose to say, with confidence and hope because he chose to believe there was something for him and Y/N. Friendship, partnership, simple mutuals—he didn't know exactly what but he didn't find any troubles in that uncertainty. The possibility of something was what kept the hope alive.

Y/N glanced at Kylian and nodded, her eyes going round. "Yeah, that would be nice," she said with a low voice before her eyes diverted to the pool, the two having chosen to settle by it not too long ago.

His smile faded, his expression soon dulling. "You don't sound too thrilled by that."

"That's not how it is, believe me. It's just..." She shook her head before exhaling deeply, trying to gather her thoughts, "Just look at it from my perspective, okay? You found me in peace and quiet, Kylian. We're having a conversation in peace and quiet. You think we would still have that same peace and quiet if we went back to the party, if we left this house? I enjoy my peace and quiet, I really do."

Kylian couldn't help but understand her words because Y/N was right. This wasn't the first time someone rejected his friendship or want for something more because of his notability– either they wanted him because he was a football player or they didn't want him because he was a football player. 

And this was why he always wanted to stray away from football sometimes—he wanted to get away from the very thing that negatively affected his chances of truly connecting with others beyond football. It was unfair, of course, but that was just how it was and he couldn't do anything to change his situation.

"You could still have that," that peace and quiet, Kylian assured, "with me, you know? And I know that's hard to believe..." he shrugged, "but I can make things happen."

"You would do something just for me?"

"Just for you," he said smiling as he knocked their shoulders together. 

The truth is, Kylian was someone who always strived and worked towards everything he wanted in life. Not by force, but with grace and quality. And that was the same thing he wanted with Y/N—he wanted to experience her conversations, enjoy her friendship, have her company when he could—all there was to offer.

What he enjoyed, what he appreciated the most were familiar and comfortable and friendly people and things, and Kylian would rather not let that go for an inconvenience that he could probably work around. So yes, he would make things happen just for her.

Y/N nodded slowly, taking in his words. "How about this... I'll give you my number and we go from there?" She offered as the corners of her mouth lifted. 

Those words, Kylian's words, were spoken with care and dedication and for that, she was willing to give this person a chance at whatever it was to come for them. 'Cause the way he felt about her was mutual. She enjoyed his conversations, his laughs, his love for football, so much so that she wouldn't mind coming back to him sometime after this very house party.

So Kylian beamed, his grin reappearing upon his face. "Of course. Whatever you want to do." 

Maybe it didn't seem like much, but it was much more for Kylian. For him, it was hope, an opportunity for everything he could have with Y/N. And whether or not they would go far or not didn't seem to bother him that much. 'Cause the chance to have Y/N in his life—the chance to have Kylian in her life—seemed like a blessing in itself.

And checking his phone when he was about to sleep later that night, he let himself experience a second of delight.

y/n: don't think i saw a single art piece in there that i liked... fancy going to an art museum sometime 👀

That's why he kept the hope alive; they would soon find one another again.

[blueraineshadows]

Blood Bound Part 6

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian is struggling with his demons whilst Leander whisks MC away somewhere safe so she can recuperate.

13.2k words. Tags: NSFW / sexual tension / angst / hurt-comfort / alcohol use / mental health struggles / pining

Mutual tag list at the end ✨️ Chapter Master List and Ao3 link

Six: In the Shadow of Loneliness

MC

The little house felt different without Leander present. MC moved slowly about the space, almost afraid to touch anything because nothing belonged to her. It was unfamiliar, and she felt like an imposter, almost as though she didn't deserve such comforts. Sitting within the softness of the settee cushions felt odd, and she struggled to relax, but that might have been the smug faced Auror who was here to watch over her more than the plush cushions. 

McKinnon had arrived looking fresh-faced and ready to irritate, all smiles for Leander as he prepared to leave and meet with Harrington. MC had remained distant and close lipped around the self-assured Auror, watching her with stolen glances as she sat at the table to read through some files she had brought with her. It was hard not to envy the healthy glow of her skin and the luscious shine of her hair, the pretty curve of her mouth that might place kisses on Leander one day. The very idea of that made MC huff a sigh and look away, pulling books off a shelf and opening them, but not reading a word. 

After a quiet, tense meal of soup and bread, MC had retreated to the sanctuary of the bedroom, where she had sat on the floor in the corner and watched the flicker of the flames dance in the hearth. It was the only light she allowed in the room, and she was fascinated at the sight, her eyes learning to appreciate the warm colours after so long in muted darkness. 

How she craved and yet remained wary of warmth, her hand reaching out towards the dancing flames, feeling the heat. Too close, and she would burn. It was too similar to the ache of needing some kind of physical comfort. She wanted arms to hold her and convince her that things would be alright. The cavern in her chest yawned with such clarity, the aching loneliness seemingly spreading outwards and into her limbs. Despite the comfort provided to her, she felt numb and empty. At least she could take some relief from the sanctuary of darkness that the evening had provided. She could hide in the shadows.

Seeking reassurance in the caress of her scar on her palm, MC fought the drowsiness that plagued her eyes. Leander had told her to sleep, but that meant letting down her guard, and McKinnon was on the other side of the door. She didn't trust her. Not only that, but the bed loomed huge and soft, a tempting trap that felt undeserved. She wasn't ready to explore it yet after four years of sleeping on stone, preferring the familiar feel of the floor beneath her bones.

To keep focused, she held out a hand, flexing fingers that already felt stronger from the potions and elixirs given to her by the kindly Healer. She could feel the subtle glow of energy that warm food provided and channelled it, holding up her fingers and concentrating on the tips as she pulled on her magic. The draw of it was almost sweet relief, and after a few moments of trying, a tiny flicker of bluish white teased at the end of her fingers before snuffing out. 

Slumping forward after her efforts, her hand dropping into her lap, she felt drained and shaky, but a smile lifted her lips. She had managed to manifest a wisp of ancient magic. With practice and continued efforts to build her strength, she should be able to conjure more. 

As the evening drew on, a chill began to seep into the house, the soft sigh of the wind whistling through the eaves. It was soothing compared to the constant wails of misery in Azkaban. MC felt sleep creeping over her and gave in to the temptation of the tartan woollen blanket folded neatly on a chair, giving in to the exhaustion. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she curled up on the rug before the fire and dozed, restless and fretful as she tried to get used to the peaceful quiet. 

….*....

Blinking in confusion, MC sat up from the floor, a constricting band of panic tightening around her chest as she gazed bleary-eyed around the bedroom. It took a moment to remember where she was, the darkness making the furniture appear like hulking beasts, the fire burned down to embers in the grate. She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her, the sound of urgent voices making her turn towards the door. 

Wariness slid through her bones as she listened, picking out the tones of McKinnon’s exasperated speech, and then she heard the softer tones of Leander and took a steadying breath. He was back. 

A sharp rap on the door made her freeze, her eyes fixed on the wood. “MC, are you decent?” 

Leander’s muffled question had her scrambling to her feet, throwing off the blanket onto the chair and tucking her hair behind her ears. She cleared her throat, adjusting her blouse. 

“Come in!” 

The door opened, and Leander stepped into the room, her mouth dropping open at the split skin above his eye, blood smeared across his temple. Her stomach twisted, and she stepped forward. “You're hurt…” 

“Don't worry, I'm fine,” he insisted, waving her off. His eyes scanned her quickly, eyes bright with concern. “Are you alright?” 

“Of course,” she said, confused, her gaze drifting towards where McKinnon was standing behind him with her arms folded. “What is it? What happened?”

“I told you everything was as it should be,” McKinnon frowned. “You are worrying for nothing. This house has secure wards.” 

“Perhaps, but that’s not the issue here. The safe house could be compromised,” Leander said, moving to gently take MC’s elbow. MC stared up at him, her heart rate speeding up as he guided her towards the wardrobe. He met her gaze and tried to smile. “Don't worry. It will be alright. I just need to get you out of here.” 

McKinnon’s eyes bulged. “Compromised? How? Where are you taking her?” 

Leander opened the wardrobe and pulled out a travelling bag, and thrust it into MC’s hands. She grasped it, her eyes wide as his thumb grazed her cheek with his trademark softness. “It's okay. I just need you to pack whatever clothes you want. Enough for a few days at least, and help yourself to some books, and whatever you need from the dressing table.” 

“What's happened?” She croaked, her limbs frozen in panic. They were leaving here? So soon? 

“I will explain, I promise,” he said, turning to Odessa. “You need to head back to the office. Harrington is calling a meeting with all Aurors involved with the case. There has been a development.” 

“What kind of development?” McKinnon asked, her eyes narrowing as she glanced towards MC. “Where are you taking her?” 

“I can't say,” Leander said, shaking his head. “Harrington’s orders.” 

MC watched as Leander marched out into the main room, McKinnon quick at his heels, her face unamused at being brushed off like that. They began to bicker, her demands to know what had happened being pushed back with replies that were becoming colder and more clipped the more she pushed him. Moving closer towards the door, MC couldn't help but notice how calmly Leander managed McKinnon as he gathered up the files and put them in a bag of his own, adding her potions and some other things from the kitchen side. 

For someone usually easily flustered, he was coping well under whatever pressure he was experiencing, ignoring what must have been a painful wound on his brow. Perhaps it was unwise to underestimate him.

Despite her own panic and curiosity, MC did as she was asked, her fingers shaking as she pulled blouses and jumpers from the wardrobe. Ignoring the skirts, she took the trousers, a sleep shirt, and some underwear, stuffing them all into the bag. 

Her eyes scanned the room before dropping down to the neatly made bed, her fingers brushing against the soft blankets that had been placed there for her benefit. She hadn't had the chance to grow attached to any of it, and yet her chest was unbearably tight at the thought of leaving these walls, going outside again to somewhere unknown. Clutching the bag against her, she wandered out to where McKinnon stood fuming by the table as Leander added a bread loaf wrapped in muslin cloth to his bag, and then he shut it. He lifted his eyes towards MC. “Are you ready?” 

MC nodded, slightly uncertain. Leander strode towards her and wrapped his arm about her waist, moving with assured confidence that helped to steady MC’s nervous flutter. 

“You can't just disappear with a prisoner without an explanation!” McKinnon protested, stepping forwards. 

“She isn't a prisoner. Not anymore,” Leander said firmly, and MC leant her head against his chest, the move almost possessive as she eyed the frustrated Auror. He held her tighter, his gaze determined as he looked at McKinnon. “Report to Harrington. I'll see you soon.” 

The last thing MC saw was McKinnon’s look of outrage before the world spun out of focus in a whirl of dizzying black. As her feet landed onto tufts of wild grass, a strong gust of wind stole her breath and left her gasping, her fingers clutching at Leander’s robes as they gained their footing. 

The wind carried the salty tang of the sea, and the sound of waves crashing filled her ears. MC gulped to catch her breath, the sound and scent reminiscent of the surroundings at Azkaban, the panic in her chest tightening as she gazed wildly about in the dark expecting to see towering black stone and feel the terror. 

There was no terror. Only the soughing of the sea winds and no stone tower looming over her, just a staggering expanse of coastline. A sliver of moon was peeking through the sliding trails of clouds that drifted across a sky littered with stars, the huge expanse of the ocean spread out before them. Turning her head, her gaze fell upon the shadowed undulation of a rugged cliff edge, wild heathland stretching for miles. It was so open and desolate, the only notable thing being a quaint house nestled within a garden surrounded by a rough stone wall.

“Where are we?” She asked, the words ripped from her mouth by the wind. Her hair was lifted and tossed about her face, her blouse fluttering against her thin body. She shivered, and Leander gave her a reassuring squeeze before shifting to take her bag from her, adjusting his own on his shoulder. 

“We are near the village of Tinworth, in Cornwall. This is Shell Cottage. It belongs to my family. Come on, let’s get you inside before you get too cold. You didn’t even put on your robe.”

“I didn’t know I had one,” she mumbled, holding on to his arm as he led her towards the little house.

As they drew nearer, Leander opened the little gate and guided her down a paved pathway, the last of any summer blooms bobbing in the sea breeze. MC noticed that the white washed walls were covered in seashells of all types, and she could see how the house had got its name. As Leander pulled out his wand to unlock the door, she touched her fingers to the shells, smoothing over the weathered surfaces of them before throwing one last look over her shoulder towards the inky, dark ocean. At another time, she might have found joy in such a place, the quaintness of it charming her, but the numbness and uncertainty robbed her of that.

Entering the cottage, MC began to shiver harder, her teeth chattering as Leander swiftly lit lamps and used Incendio to light a fire in the hearth. The furniture was mostly weathered looking wood, the soft furnishings in colours of blues and sea greens with touches of white. Bookcases were loaded with leather bound tomes, and larger shells and driftwood sat on shelves. A doorway opened up onto a kitchen with a table, a wooden switch back staircase led up to what must be bedrooms, and there were painted pictures of seascapes hung on the walls.

Dropping the bags to the floor, Leander pulled a blanket from an armchair and wrapped it around her, rubbing her arms and urging her towards a high backed chair by the hearth. “Sit yourself near the fire, MC. I will make some tea,” he said. “I will need to fetch some water from the pump outside, but I won’t be long.”

“Are we safe here?” She asked, looking up at him. “What happened to you?”

Urging her to sit in the chair, he crouched down before her, taking one of her hands in his own and rubbing it in an attempt to warm her. 

“I couldn't risk you staying at the safe house,” he said gravely. “It would appear there might be a leak in our office. Nobody is supposed to know that you are out of Azkaban yet, but it seems some people have heard, and we don't know how. That's why I couldn't tell McKinnon anything. Nobody can know where you are until Harrington has investigated. It could jeopardise the whole plan of you going undercover.” 

MC stiffened, her breath shaking with each shiver that racked through her. “Would I have to go back to Azkaban?” 

Leander shook his head. “This isn't your fault, and I am determined to not let that happen.”

MC glanced around the house, the flutter of nerves in her chest rattling against her ribs. “Is this another safe house?” 

“This place is protected by the Fidelius charm, and my father is the Secret Keeper. My family are the only ones who know where this is, and they only visit here in the summer months. The only way a person can find out about this place is if my father tells them, or one of us brings someone here by choice. Like I have just done with you. Even though you know of it’s existence, you won’t be able to tell anyone about it, not even if they use magic or torture you. This is the safest place you could be right now.”

He had promised to be truthful with her, and so far he seemed to be doing just that. She studied him carefully, the feeling of being like a wisp of air, groundless and floating aimlessly, still clung to her. He was her anchor right now, and without him, all of this would be utter madness. She still wasn’t wholly convinced that this wasn't a dream, but she had to get a grip on this reality somehow, especially if there was danger involved. 

Lifting a trembling hand, she pushed back a few strands of hair that the wind had blown loose from his usual neat style, her touch lingering near the split skin on his brow. She studied the wound, noticing that it had stopped bleeding, but the shadow of bruising was beginning to show around his eye socket. She knew a black eye when she saw one. She had seen her fair share of fist fights growing up in a home for abandoned children. Carefully, she touched near his eye with gentle fingers. “What happened, Leander? Who hit you?”

The question made him lower his gaze, his teeth catching at his full bottom lip. He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand and sighed. “I got into a fight down in the pits,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Two Aurors in Dark Wizard territory was probably not the best idea, but at least we got to see how things are down there.”

“What was it like down there?” She asked, her hand drifting away from his face to lay over his, their hands now piled together in her lap.

“Brutal,” he said, shaking his head. “Although, it was a lot more organised than I was expecting, and there was a large crowd of spectators. There were key members of Rookwood’s gang present, so if we want to get you noticed, the pits would work. I’m not sure I like the idea of you fighting down there, though.”

A tinge of pink flushed his cheeks, and he held her hand tighter, drawing the ghost of a smile to her lips. 

“You’ve never seen me fight with ancient magic, Lee,” she said. “I couldn’t use it in Crossed Wands. It was too powerful, and Professor Fig thought it best that I kept it out of the classrooms. If the pit is where I need to go in order to help you, then that’s where I will go. I just need my wand.”

“We need to get you fighting fit first,” he said, lifting a hand to squeeze at her upper arm. “A few more good meals and restoration potions are in order before we start on the training.”

“Training?” Her brow furrowed.

“You’re out of practice, MC. You can barely walk the length of Azkaban without being out of breath,” he smirked. “If I’m going to send you into that snake pit, then you’re going down there fully equipped to deal with whatever they throw at you. We can start preparations tomorrow. Now, how about that tea?”

As he moved to stand, she grabbed his hands, halting him before he could step away. “I’ll do you a deal. You make the tea, and then I will clean up your wound. Is there any Dittany in the house? Or maybe some Wiggenweld?”

“There might be some potion supplies in the kitchen. There is a cauldron, so we could always brew some up,” he replied. He looked down at their joined hands, his cheeks colouring up again. “Will you be alright while I fetch us some water?”

She nodded and let his hands go, watching as he fetched the bucket and went outside to fill it. She wondered how he had found out about the leak in his office. Who had told him? That thump to his face was part of it, she just knew it. There was likely more to his story, but for now, she didn't want to sit here worrying and doing nothing. 

The kitchen had a stove and a sink, shelves with pots and pans, and wooden cupboards. A bench worktop held a cauldron, and she moved to inspect the shelf above it filled with various jars of ingredients. There was even a box of matches so she could light the flame under the burner. Finding what she needed for Wiggenweld, she got to work. 

It was surprising how quickly it all came back to her after so long. It felt good to be busy, weighing out the ingredients and adding them to the cauldron. When Leander returned with the water, heaving the full bucket towards the sink, she flashed him a smile. 

“You didn't have to do that, you know,” he said, adding water to the kettle. He touched his fingers to his head. “It doesn't feel all that bad.” 

MC shook her head and began to grind dittany in a pestle and mortar, adding some elixir to form a paste. “I insist,” she said, ignoring the way her arms felt tired grinding the ingredients. Leander was right. She did need to get stronger. 

“Take a seat at the table,” she said, gesturing to a chair. He removed the kettle from the stove and did as she asked.

MC took the bowl of dittany salve and stood beside him, taking another look at his wound. Deciding to clean it first, she gathered a cloth and took some of the heated water, dabbing carefully to remove the dried blood. Leander winced but didn't pull away, his eyes lifting to meet hers. 

“You have a surprisingly gentle touch, prisoner 2757,” he grinned. 

“I thought you said I wasn't a prisoner anymore,” she countered, fighting a smile of her own. 

This close, she could see the little flecks of gold in the soft brown of his eyes. As she carefully cleaned him up, her gaze kept returning to his until she began to feel warmth gathering on her cheeks. They were completely alone here together, unchaperoned. It was confusing how that made her pulse start to race, her breathing shifting as she tried to focus on her task. 

“This might sting,” she said softly, using a finger to scoop up some paste and dab gently onto his wound. 

Leander closed his eyes and bit his lip as she worked, covering the damaged skin with the paste, her attention drawn to the way his long, copper lashes fluttered against his cheeks. She could feel the warmth from his skin and remembered how it felt to be held against the solidity of his chest. The numb feeling behind her ribs began to ease, a shard of warmth creeping in as she let her eyes wander along the clean cut of his jaw and the fullness of his mouth. 

Licking her lips, she felt a bit ashamed of the way she was looking at him. It wasn't entirely proper, and yet a deep and very desperate part of her yearned to touch him, to feel his warmth under her fingertips. He had swiftly become the centre of her world recently, and the fear that he might slip out of reach was all too real. 

But, she couldn't give him what he deserved. The memory of how he had looked at her in her cell that day before he had said goodbye, that desperate glaze in his eyes as he confessed that he would do anything for her, despite knowing that she would go back to Sebastian one day. 

There lay the truth. Sebastian. 

Steadying her breathing, MC pushed back on the intrusive thoughts that made her eyes linger on Leander’s mouth far longer than was appropriate and hauled up the shields around the aching hole in her chest. 

“There, that should do it,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she gathered up the bowl and her cloth. “The potion should be done soon, too, and then you will be as good as new.”

“Thank you,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

Her heart thudded behind her ribs as she smiled back, tearing her gaze away from him as she began to tidy the potion things away. The tremble in her hands was because she was cold, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the tall, soft hearted Auror sitting at the kitchen table. It was a whole new kind of danger to open that particular chest of questions. 

Sebastian

The pounding behind his eyes was distracting, his stomach felt like it was tipping from side to side, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep off this rotten hangover. However, Rookwood had summoned him like some kind of puppy dog, and now he was in the back room of The Black Rose with Rookwood, Carrow, and Luella, leaning against the wall watching Black Dahlia make her excuses. His mouth was clamped tightly shut against the roll of nausea that was plaguing him, but also to stop the rage from bursting out through his lips. Every word that slithered from this bitch’s mouth made his skin crawl.

“These are heavy demands you’re placing on me, Rookwood,” she said coolly, her hood casting shadows over her nondescript face. “I have told you what I can, for now. Anything more will mean a higher price. The Auror Office is suspicious of a leak, which makes my task all the harder.”

Black Dahlia threw a cool look his way, and Sebastian slid his fingers along the handle of his wand in its holster. His own gaze narrowed, daring her to try him. He was not in the mood for her games. Not since MC's cell had turned up empty, and Prewett had almost gotten to him down in the pit last night. 

Carrow folded his arms, his hard face unimpressed as he flicked his gaze over her. “Yeah, yeah, we know. You’re a greedy bitch,” he drawled. “It’s not exactly a shock that MC is weak and unstable either. Nobody walks out of Azkaban singing and dancing. Tell us something we don’t know, like where the fuck she is.”

Black Dahlia shrugged. “I have no idea where she is. One of the Aurors took her to an undisclosed location. I’m sure she will turn up eventually.”

“Would this be the Auror that Sallow knows?” Rookwood asked. 

“I’d bet my last galleon on it,” Sebastian muttered bitterly.

“Yes, well, whatever schoolboy squabbles you have going on are of little interest to me,” Black Dahlia said, her smirk beyond irritating. “Give me two days to see what I can gather for you.”

“You sent me into Azkaban to get a prisoner that had already been taken out,” Sebastian seethed, his hand fisting in frustration. “I’m surprised you weren’t lurking in the shadows, ready to throw me behind the iron door of MC’s cell in her place.”

“A tempting thought, Mr Sallow,” she said, her eyes lighting up in amusement. “Look, I sent you off in good faith. I found out about her pardon too late. I do apologise, my dear. You must have had your hopes pinned on seeing her again after all these years.”

Three sets of eyes swung in his direction. Rookwood and Carrow were staring at him with cool curiosity, but Luella was glaring, her mouth tight and her eyes hard. Sebastian clenched his jaw, his fury bubbling just under the surface, his hand now gripping the handle of his wand.

“You’re lucky I’m not burning the tongue from your mouth,” he hissed coldly, his rage like ice as a black veil cloaked his mind. “Whatever charm you cast to hide your identity won’t mean shit if you can’t talk. No more pretty gifts for you, little miss brown eyes, not when you can’t whisper your betrayals. I know I’ve seen you somewhere before, and I’m going to remember where one day. Trust me.”

For the first time, he saw a flicker of fear cross her face, the sight satisfying in a grim way. For good measure, he slipped his wand from its holster and twirled it slowly in his hands as he glared at her. Carrow let out a cold chuckle and shook his head, throwing a look of amusement towards Rookwood, who was thoughtfully stroking his chin. 

“Two days,” Rookwood said. “Come back with decent information in two days, and you shall be rewarded. Let me down again, and I might just let Sallow carry out his threat. You’re only as useful as the information you provide, and right now, you have nothing that I can use.”

“I won’t let you down again,” she assured, bowing her head slightly.

“Good,” Rookwood smiled, the coldness of it making his eyes like chips of ice. “Now, get out of my sight.”

As Sebastian finally made his way down the hallway towards the bar, his head thumping with sickening throbs, he heard the tap of heeled boots following him. A hand caught his elbow, and he reluctantly came to a stop, his eyes swinging to meet with a pair of determined blue ones. 

“Where are you slinking off to?” Luella asked, one eyebrow raised. “We need to talk.” 

Sebastian groaned and rolled his eyes. “Not now, Luella. I've got a raging headache.”

She wasn't amused or in any way sympathetic. “That would be the amount of whiskey you've been drowning yourself in,” she huffed, folding her arms. “You're a shitty drunk, Sebastian. I don't like it.” 

“I don't remember needing your permission, darling,” he quipped, continuing on down the hallway. 

She uttered an indignant huff and marched after him, grabbing his arm again. His temper was on a very short leash, and he yanked his arm free, a dark scowl shadowing his face as he glared at her. 

“What do you want, Luella? Like I said, now is not the time to push me,” he growled. 

She stared back at him, unflinching. “You haven't called me Luella in months,” she said, her voice low. “Something has changed, but you haven't clued me in. What's going on, Seb? You keep pushing me away and biting my head off. What's changed? Is it this prisoner wench? You're awfully angry that she is missing.” 

Sebastian stared at her. She was a beautiful girl, any fool could see that, but she was smart too. It was one of the things he liked about her. But, she wasn't MC. Sex was just sex, you could do that with anyone. Nobody would ever get under his skin like MC did. Luella would never understand why he felt such despair and rage that MC was missing, and he would never tell her either. He wasn't in the habit of letting people get too close, not when he was so good at losing them. 

“I don't like failure,” he hissed, and he wasn't lying either. He hated failure and berated himself daily for past mistakes. “I didn't get the job done.”

She narrowed her gaze, watching him carefully. “Either you have a diabolical plan for revenge, or this girl means more to you than you're letting on. Whatever is going on with you, if you disrupt Father's plans, he will not take kindly to it.” 

The irony of her words tickled him. It was both. He chuckled, reaching to catch hold of her chin. Her blue eyes flared as she looked up at him, a faint blush of pink colouring her cheeks as he bent forwards, his mouth inches from hers. She was waiting for his kiss. It was hard to deny the rush of smug satisfaction it gave him to know that he could still entice her. 

“Don't worry,” he murmured, careful to keep the contempt out of his eyes. “I don't need you to remind me about Daddy's little temper. Maybe you ought to tread carefully yourself. Keep fluttering your eyelashes at me the way you do, and Daddy is going to realise I've been slipping it to his baby girl. How kindly do you think he will take that piece of news, hmm?” 

Screwing her face up in disgust, she shoved him away, making him stumble back against the wall. “You're disgusting,” she said through gritted teeth. 

He laughed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I thought that's what you liked about me, darling.” 

She gaped at him, and then growled in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air before storming off down the hallway, muttering about him being a prick under her breath. 

Sebastian watched her go, the hard mask slipping from his face, the darker sadness flickering in his gaze for a moment before he hung his head. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the bitter distaste his words had left on his tongue. If his mother knew how he spoke to women like that she would cuff him round the ear. His cheeks flooded with shame and he pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. 

Who was he becoming? This dark, bitter, and twisted version of himself was not someone he liked, and yet he seemed to be around more often lately. The burn for more whiskey clung to his throat, the need to obliterate the dark thoughts that crept in the corners of his mind felt like a cunning temptress luring him on. 

No. Drink was not the answer. Solomon had been one for hitting the whiskey on his darkest days. His fists were always harder on those nights, and Sebastian would never forget it. He did not want to be like his uncle. 

He wished he had some place he could go when things got this bad, when the shadows clung so tightly, and he feared he might cease to draw breath through the tightness of his throat. Sometimes he wondered if he was losing himself, the shadows stealing away all that he was, like a rattling Dememtor coming to suck out all that was good inside. It had never been the plan to become the bad man. When he had been a child, it had not been the dream to stalk in darkness, killing and torturing until he no longer knew the feel of warmth.

It was lonely.

Leaving the pub, he stepped out into the muted light of Knockturn Alley, the smog of Victorian London beginning to thicken, choking out the life and sound of the old city. Wandering aimlessly, he found himself down near the Thames as the sun bled its last colours across the horizon. He watched the ebb and flow of the tide, ships passing on their journeys up and down the river.

With his hands in his pockets, he stared up at the first weak glimmer of stars, their beauty choked out by the smog and filth of the city. He missed the huge skies of the Highlands and the fresh breezes that would come down off the mountains. Homesick for something that didn’t exist anymore, and aching with a loneliness that felt deeper than his bones, he wondered where MC was tonight.

Leander

Morning sunlight shone through the kitchen window, warming his back as Leander sat at the table with his case file open before him. He sipped at his tea, reviewing the information, Harrington’s latest owl letter folded neatly beside him. It had been two days since he had brought MC to Shell Cottage, and he hadn't been back to London since. He had remained by her side, making sure she ate properly and took her potions, watching with a concerned frown as she sat curled up on the window seat for hours with her arms wrapped about her legs. She was so very quiet.

The harsh lines of her bones were disappearing, replaced with softness, her skin still pale but no longer waxen looking. She was less like a wraith, and more like the girl he remembered. Apart from her eyes. Those were still shadowed with memory and ghosts as she gazed through the window panes towards the ocean, the sadness on her face making him ache. He wished he could take it from her, lift the clouds that hung heavy over her soul, but that was only something she could control. All he could do was be here if she needed him, and he hoped maybe that could be enough. 

Pulled from his thoughts by the creak of the wooden stairs, he looked up as MC appeared in the kitchen doorway dressed in a white blouse and dark trousers, her hair long and loose about her shoulders. Her tresses shone in the sunlight, her smile soft as she came to join him at the table. 

“Good morning,” she said, sliding out a chair. “Is there any tea left in the pot?”

“How did you sleep?” He asked, standing to fetch the teapot from the counter top, noting the darkness under her eyes.

Her gaze dipped downwards as he placed a cup and saucer before her, along with two healing and restoring potions. He knew she didn't sleep well. He heard her pacing the floors, and a few times, he'd heard her muffled cries and sobbing. The urge to get up and check on her was fierce, but he forced himself to remain in his own bed, worried that entering her bedroom would stir the tension that seemed to linger between them. 

“I'm sure I will settle eventually,” she mumbled, thanking him for the tea and wrapping her hands around the cup. “I'm still not sure what my new normal is supposed to be.”

“Maybe getting a start on our next steps might help. I thought that we could go over some details this morning,” he said, sitting back down. He patted the paperwork before him. “I've got some information on Rookwood’s gang members here that will help you when it comes time to infiltrate their ranks. Are you up for that?”

“Let's do it,” she nodded. 

Leander sifted through the parchments and pulled out two profiles, reaching to place them before MC. “Amos Carrow and Marvolo Gaunt,” he said, watching her carefully. 

MC slowly let go of her cup and picked up Marvolo's parchment, her eyes fixed on his moving photograph, her lips slightly parted. “My goodness,” she breathed. “He doesn't look much like Ominis, except perhaps the cheekbones.” 

“Marvolo is Ominis' older brother. He has business dealings in London and spends a lot of time with Carrow,” Leander said. “Carrow seems to be in charge of the Ashwinders in the capital. He took Harlow's place as Rookwood’s right hand man.” 

MC looked at Carrow's photo, her eyes narrowing. “They both look like cold bastards,” she muttered. 

“You definitely don't want to be crossing them, no,” he said, biting his lip. He reluctantly placed the next profile down. “This is Luella Rookwood. His daughter.” 

MC's gaze flicked up at him, that blank faced stare she was so good at slotting carefully into place. “She's rather pretty, isn't she?” 

“Luella is seen mostly on the south coast, or on the Scottish border,” Leander said, sticking to the facts. “She grew up in France and speaks fluent French. We think she may translate for traders and poachers across the channel. She was last seen in London a few days ago.” 

MC stilled, her gaze fixing on him with a determined gleam. “She was at the duelling pit, wasn't she?” 

Along with the physical improvements to MC's body, her mind had sharpened, too. Leander remembered that she had been a competent student, and her four years in Azkaban hadn't taken the edge off her smartness. 

“She was,” he confirmed with a nod. “I saw her myself.”

His stomach clenched as he picked up the next profile, his personal feelings making him wish he didn't have to show it to her, but if he didn't, he wouldn't be sticking to his professional role here. Reluctantly, he placed the next profile down before MC. 

“Luella was with Carrow in the pits, along with someone else you know rather well.” 

She stared down at the parchment, the moving image of Sallow drawing her full attention. Taken about a year ago, Sebastian was dressed all in black, his eyes dark as they gazed forward. He hadn't changed all that much since it had been taken, but MC had not seen him in four years. Her throat worked as her hands hovered near the edge of the parchment, not touching it, just scanning over the details before she shuffled Luella’s to lay beside it. 

“Do you think McKinnon was right?” She asked, her eyes shifting between the two images. “She wasn't just being a bitch, was she? These two…” 

“I honestly don't know,” he said softly, wincing at the tight line of her mouth as her words trailed off. “I'm sorry. We can stop if this is too much.” 

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. She stiffened her spine. “I need to know what I'm getting myself into, right? If I can't even look at photographs of gang members, then how am I supposed to be able to face them?” 

Once again, Leander found himself wishing he could take her pain away. She was doing a very good job of hiding it, but he had spent far too long looking at her, and he knew she was upset by the way she was touching her fingers to the scar on her palm. Her shoulders were stiffly held, and there was a stubborn tilt to her mouth that revealed her defensiveness. 

Rather than reach for her, pushing down that softness behind his ribs, he placed a few more profiles down onto the table for her to look over. He shared some of the evidence they had gathered over the last six months. There was so much she needed to know before heading into the gang’s midst, and she listened carefully, studying everything with a slight crease on her brow. The facts kept him grounded, but his eyes would still stray to the soft curve of her mouth, noting how her flesh was softer and seemingly more rounded over the lines of her face. Just like in class at Hogwarts, she had the power to distract him. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he straightened his tie, before showing her some of the recent campsites they had raided in the Highlands. 

“These ones here are close to ruins where I found ancient magic traces,” she said with a frown, pointing to some north of Hogwarts. “There were maps and notes belonging to a witch called Isadora Morganach that helped me find hot spots. Only someone who can wield the magic can see it, but Sebastian said there was a strange hum of energy near the locations we managed to find.” 

“Do you think Rookwood could be hunting out these locations, too? You said he was fixated on your magic,” Leander asked curiously. 

“He wouldn't be able to do much about it if he was. Not without me,” she shrugged. “Sebastian said he could feel the energy of the site, but once I had absorbed it all, that residue of power was gone. It belongs to me now.” 

Leander bit his lip as he thought for a moment, eyeing her carefully. It was incredible to think that she could absorb such power and wield it. She was a tiny thing, frail looking on the outside, especially right now, but she was a weapon in the wrong hands. It was actually quite terrifying. She was able to lie through her teeth during the questioning after he had swapped the truth serum out, and he still wasn't sure how much he could trust her now. He wanted to. He really did. 

“What if he did have you, MC?” He asked quietly. “Could Rookwood use this ancient magic?” 

“I'm the only one who can see traces of it and wield it,” she said, meeting his gaze. “The only way Rookwood could use it is through me, either by my consent to perform whatever it is he wants or by means of Imperio.” 

Leander felt ice slide down his spine. “Shit,” he muttered, looking down at all the gang members laid out across the table. “And we want to send you right into his clutches.” 

His gaze shifted as she placed a hand over his on the table top, her fingers so light and gentle. “I will never give my consent to him, Lee. Never,” she said with conviction. “I refused him before to the point of killing him, and I would do it again. My magic would be catastrophic in the wrong hands, I've seen how it can warp a person. Isadora Morganach ended up dead because she let it get the better of her. I swore back then that I would never end up like her. I tried so hard, Lee. I had the chance to absorb all the terrible power she had accumulated over years, but I didn't. I let it be. I left it in a safe, guarded repository.”

“So, this Isadora could wield ancient magic, too?” He asked curiously. 

MC nodded, her hand still on his. “She lived a few hundred years ago. She was a professor at Hogwarts, and lived in Feldcroft. It was her magic deposits that Ranrok was after, accumulated through abuse of trust and power. It's why I had to stop him, and Rookwood was involved in it all.” 

“These deposits still exist, then,” Leander said, his mind spinning quickly. “So, it's possible that Rookwood could still be after them.” 

“He could be I suppose, but like I said, without me he won't get far,” she shrugged. 

Leander rubbed a hand against his forehead, professionalism fighting against emotions. He brought his other hand down atop hers, brushing his fingers over her knuckles, unable to help the constant desire to be touching her somehow. 

“I probably shouldn't be telling you this,” he said, biting his lip. “But, I did promise you honesty, and I think you ought to know.” 

“What is it?” 

“We had a tip off that Rookwood was planning a prison break. No names were ever mentioned, but Harrington thought he was coming for you,” he revealed. Her eyes widened. “After what you just told me, I think he might be right. What could be even more worrying, is that he has recruited Sebastian to help him in his cause. What if they are coming after you so they can use your magic?” 

Her eyes flew back down towards Sebastian’s image, her face drawn and even more pale. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Sebastian can't turn against me. It would kill him. That can't be why he is with Rookwood. Sebastian has a very good reason to hate him. There is more to it than that, I'm sure.” 

His grip on her hand tightened, his emotions winning out completely now as he stared at her, that softness behind his ribs becoming an ache. Even now, she refused to believe that Sebastian could be anything other than honourable. It was so tempting to tell her the truth, that he had fought him in the pits, that it had been Sebastian who had hit his head in his attempts to find out where she was. Worry seized him that it was her power they were after, and she was so very powerful, the memory of her fighting off a horde of Dementors without a wand making ice trickle down his spine.

Powerful she may be, but she was also just a girl, a damaged one at that. He had seen the fear that seized her eyes when she was vulnerable, he had wiped away her tears and held her as she sobbed. Under that cold, indifferent face she had mastered as a mask, there was a softer, fragile part of her underneath that made him want to hold her tight against him and never let go.

“Whatever their reasons, MC, I hate the thought that I am sending you into their hands. No matter how powerful your magic, or how fiercely you want to stop Rookwood, I just��� I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt.” 

He could hear the hitch of her breathing as she stared at him, that tension he had been noticing beginning to heighten between them as his pulse fluttered through his veins. Caught in her gaze, a curling wisp of hope began to form in his chest. He wondered what she thought of him, if she felt anything at all after the last few weeks of them meeting. 

“You can't keep looking at me like that,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his mouth before quickly shifting downwards. 

“Like what?” His voice sounded strained to his own ears, his fingertips seeking out the soft skin near her wrist bone. 

She closed her eyes briefly as though in pain. “You don't want a girl like me, Leander. Trust me,” she rasped. Her eyes were dark, haunted, deep wells of shadow. “I will only hurt you, and I do not want to do that. Not to you, not after everything you have done for me. You deserve better.” 

“I'd do it all again,” he said, his voice soft but firm. 

“I know you would,” she whispered, her lips beginning to tremble. 

Those eyes that were burned forever into his thoughts shone with tears. He couldn't stand it. A face that beautiful deserved smiles, not heartache, and his betraying hands were already reaching for her. His chair slid noisily across the floor as he stood, pulling her to her feet and wrapping her tightly against him. 

Surprisingly, she didn't stop him or pull away, despite her warning to keep his distance. She buried her face against his chest, her arms coming around him and her fingers gripping at the back of his waistcoat. Bending his head down, he buried his nose into the softness of her hair, breathing in the delicate lavender scent of the soap she had used. How could he not? The dawning suspicion that he was falling dangerously close to being addicted to her was swept firmly aside as he held her in his arms. 

“I'm in too deep now, MC,” he murmured against her scalp, his lips pressing kisses he had no right to give, and yet he couldn’t stop. 

“That's what I am afraid of,” she said, lifting her head to gaze up at him. She blinked back her tears, their faces mere inches apart, her voice breaking into a whisper. “But, when you look at me like that, when you touch me…”

Watching her pupils dilate and her teeth catch against her lower lip made it hard for him to draw a breath, the ache within him twisting into a burn that raced to the tips of his fingers and toes.

What happened when he touched her?

Her words had trailed off, leaving so much unsaid, but the way she was looking up at him right now made him want to break his promise to remain professional. Just like when he had switched out the Veritaserum, when it came to her, he just couldn’t seem to help himself. Panic warred against desire.

“We shouldn't…” His words were a mere whisper, a warning and a plea, as much for himself as it was for her. A last attempt to hold back from crossing a line.

“I know,” she replied, her gaze dropping to his mouth. 

He wasn't sure who moved first. Maybe they both did. At the first touch of her lips against his, he realised he didn't care. His hands slid up to cup her head, his fingers sinking into the silken strands of her hair as she pressed soft, teasing kisses against his mouth. Each touch had him hungry for the next, stolen breaths mingling with hers as she pushed up on her tiptoes and caught his lower lip between her teeth, driving him to the brink of his sanity. 

With a breathless gasp he held her close, the tip of his nose sliding up over her soft cheek, his eyes closing as he savoured the moment. His heart was beating so rapidly he was sure she must be able to hear it. Holding her like this had to be a dream, so perfect, but devastatingly unreal. It couldn't be real. There was a mark on her palm that made it so. 

She would never be his. Not really. His eyes slid towards the table, Sebastian’s image staring back at him, and Leander shivered. Sebastian had warned him he would never give up, that she belonged to him.

And yet, here she was, in his arms, and pressing kisses along his jaw that felt deliciously forbidden and so very tempting. He claimed her mouth in a firmer kiss, breathless with hunger as his hands slid down her back, her body arching forwards against him. His fingers circled her waist, urging her even closer, the press of her warmth sweet torture as the kiss deepened. The taste of her was driving him crazy, their tongues sliding effortlessly together in a slow, mesmerising dance.

Her hips bumped up against the table edge and his pelvis rocked instinctively, seeking friction against her softness. A low moan sounded in her throat and he closed his eyes, the sound exquisite, and he was unable to resist the slide of his hands to cup her hips. 

“Lee,” she gasped into his mouth, panting softly. 

He stopped immediately and held her steady, his forehead pressed against hers as they breathed heavily, their eyes meeting in a silent question. His lips burned with the thirst for more, but he kept a tight leash on his control, placing the decision into her hands. 

“I'm sorry,” she breathed, her fingers touching against his cheeks. “Perhaps we should stop.”

His grip loosened and he stepped back, swallowing hard as he began to adjust his waistcoat and tie, his cheeks feeling hot with a flush of embarrassed disappointment. “I should be the one apologising,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That wasn’t a very gentlemanly way to behave. Forgive me.”

There was colour in her cheeks, her eyes bright and her lips damp from their kisses. She looked so lovely, flushed and breathless from what they had shared, and the ache in his chest twisted as she caressed her thumb over that thin, red scar on her hand. Sebastian didn’t even need to be in the room to come between them.

Clearing his throat, he moved past her and began to gather up the parchments, slotting them back into his file, anything to keep his hands busy. With a pulse still racing for everything that she was, he tried to get a grip on his scattered thoughts, focusing on every breath to steady his nerves. She caught his arm, making him pause.

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said softly, her eyes searching his face. “I don’t deserve half of what you do for me, Leander. I will be as honest with you as I can, but you shouldn’t get too attached to me. I make bad choices, and I meant it when I said you deserve better than someone like me.”

She lifted her hair back from her face and turned her head, exposing the slender column of her neck where the numbers 2757 were branded into her skin, along with the rune that symbolised death. A reminder of who and what she was. 

“You don’t need to remind me of where you were, MC. I don’t think you’re a bad person,” he said, dropping the file onto the table. His fingers reached out to touch the inked branding, a tattoo she would carry for the rest of her life, and she shivered at the caress.

Why couldn’t he stop touching her?

Withdrawing his hand before he was tempted to draw her in close again, he stepped away and picked the file back up, along with Harrington’s letter, which he held up before her with a sigh. 

“Harrington still hasn’t found the snitch in the Auror Office, and so they are going to publish the notification of your release in The Daily Prophet so that it becomes public knowledge. As of tomorrow, you will be known as a free woman.”

“What does that mean?” She asked, her hand lingering against her neck where he had touched her. 

“It means we need to get you up to scratch with your duelling,” he said, his stomach sinking. He could barely look at her, his words marking the start of a barrier that they needed to keep in place. “It means that, at long last, you will be getting your wand back. I shall help you practise, and then you will be free to join Rookwood’s ranks. You will only have to see me once a day after that to make your report. We can go back to a professional situation that might be for the best.”

The flash of joy on her face at the news she would be getting her wand back faltered, her eyes wide and haunted as she looked at him. Fighting against every warm feeling threatening to burst out of his ribs, Leander turned away from her. It was for the best. 

“Help yourself to some breakfast and then find yourself something warm to put on,” he said, hating how cool and stiff he sounded. “A walk on the beach would be a good start to getting back to fitness. The fresh air will do us both good.”

He left her in the kitchen, keeping his steps measured as he took the stairs up to his room and closed the door softly behind him. Leaning back against the wood, he sighed, touching his fingers to his lips where she had kissed him. Her response had been fiery. He couldn’t have imagined that. The way her back had arched, the softness of her pressed so closely against him. He could still hear her breathless gasps, the teasing feel of her lips, and her moan. Merlin, the sound of her moan. She had wanted it, too. 

Thinking about taking her right there against the kitchen table made his cheeks flush crimson, his hand tugging at his shirt collar as he willed his body to calm down. What if she hadn’t stopped him? His heart thudded at the thought. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to stop himself, not if she had been willing under his hands. He wanted her so fiercely it hurt, that brief taste only making him ache for more. He'd lain with girls before, but it had never felt like that, like his body had been burning out of control. 

But, she had stopped him. He had given her the choice, and she had stepped back. It was hard, so very hard to take it, but he respected her choice. Staying here in such close proximity with her was dangerous. The sooner she went off to start her spying, the sooner he could get back to the business of doing his job properly before he really messed things up or lost his mind.  

Sebastian 

Sebastian couldn’t remember how many times he had stood in the shadow of an alleyway opposite the little tea shop just off Diagon Alley, staring through the windows of the little business, watching the customers come and go, a small bell tinkling every time the door was opened. He had never been inside, only watched as Anne worked with a smile on her pale, drawn face, serving people their tea and cakes as though she had no worries in the world. Countless times he had come once he had learned that his twin worked here, his eyes hungry to catch a glimpse of her, to assure himself that she was indeed alive, and as well as she could be. 

One day, he might even go in and speak to her, but not today. He loved her, but he was still deeply angry at her decision to send MC to Azkaban. His bitterness at that action was difficult to swallow down, mingling with his grief and his guilt. He knew Anne would probably never forgive him for the death of Solomon, despite him being a cold and abusive guardian. The look on Anne’s face when she had left him in the catacombs would be forever stamped into his memory. He could never take it back, but he had said he was sorry. Perhaps not for the killing itself, but more for the pain he had caused his twin. Caught now in a stubborn stalemate, he wondered if their relationship would ever be able to bridge the yawning gap that had opened between them. As angry as he was, he missed Anne with a fierceness that made him feel hollow. 

Anne was the reason for it all. Everything else he had ever cared about had been ripped from him, wrenching him apart until he wasn’t sure what was left. Clinging to the hope that he could cure his twin of the curse that crippled her frail frame with pain every day had got him through years of grief. A curse that Rookwood had placed upon her.

Sebastian was going to make that bastard pay, even if it was the last thing he could do for his sister. He would see her well again, flushed with health and living the life she had been robbed of. He needed to be strong. He just wanted everyone to be safe, for everyone to be alright, and it was his job to make sure of it. 

But, sometimes, that burden became so heavy, and he staggered under the weight of it. How he longed to have his father around to guide him on these matters. He wished his mother could come back, even if just for a moment, to ruffle his hair the way she used to and tell him that things would work out alright in the end. They were the foolish day dreams of a child, and he was no longer a child. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been there to lean on, and he was so tired. But, for Anne, he would do it.

Just seeing her alive through the windows of the tea shop reinforced his determination to see her well again, to bring down Rookwood, and raid his precious collection of rare books and artefacts. Somewhere in all that loot had to be answers that would solve the curse. He couldn't give up now. He had come too far, and they had all suffered enough.

He just needed to fight back against the darkness that was trying to take a claim on his mind. 

Adjusting the collar on his jacket against the cut of the autumn breeze, Sebastian hunched his shoulders and stepped out of the alleyway with one more glance towards the tea shop. Anne was no longer near the window, but that wasn't a problem. He could come back tomorrow and the next day. He would always check on her, just to make sure she was alright. 

Weaving through the witches and wizards gathered in Diagon Alley, Sebastian headed down the street with a mind to return to the Black Rose to catch up with Rosier. There had been some talk of going down into the tunnels tonight for some more fighting, and Sebastian thought it would be worth another attempt at trying to get rid of the tight, burning tension in his chest. 

As he made the turn into Knockturn Alley, the hairs lifted on the back of his neck and his step slowed, a strange sensation passing over him as the dark bricks in the wall to his left shimmered and shifted. He blinked and then stepped back in surprise as his twin appeared before him, materialising out of nothing on the path.

“Anne!” He gasped, his eyes swiftly travelling over her, seeing her in the flesh and so close for the first time in years.

Anne had her hands planted on her hips, her chin tilted in defiance as she stared at him, her mouth tilted in disapproval. “It’s rude to spy on people,” she retorted, one eyebrow tilting upwards. “And you do it far too much, Sebastian Sallow. Here I was thinking you had been raised better than that.”

She looked so small, his head and shoulders towering over her now, her frame slim and delicate whereas he had bulked out. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her pallor poor and eyes red rimmed as she stared at him with a guarded look. After years of not speaking, she wasn’t here to say she missed him, she was here to scold him. Not much had changed in the last two years it seemed.

“It’s lovely to see you, too,” he drawled, adopting a self-assured stance that made a liar of him. His insides were fluttering and swooping at a rather alarming rate.

Her stern gaze faltered, her eyes drifting over him as her throat worked. Her eyes found him again, a mirror image of his own, the deep brown flecked with hazel. “You’re taller,” she said softly, a flicker of sadness there and then gone again. “You look like daddy.”

The lump in his throat refused to go down, no matter how he tried to swallow. Grief, swift and eye watering, sliced through him, and even though he was still roaring mad at her, seeing his twin filled him to the brim with emotion. He grabbed her, crushing her against his chest in a hug so fierce she gulped, but her arms squeezed him back just as hard.

Holding her close and feeling her heartbeat against his felt more like home than anything else ever could. She was the other half of him, created side by side, and born into the world together. Anne was everything.

“I wish I was more like him,” he muttered against the top of her head.

Anne pulled back, tilting her head so she could look up at him. “There is always a choice, Sebastian.”

“Please, don’t start,” he said, stepping back from her and holding his hands up. “This is why I didn’t come into the shop. I just wanted to see that you were alright. I don’t need a lecture.”

“I’m fine,” she said, folding her arms. “What about you? You look tired and peaky. You’re not taking care of yourself, are you? Why aren’t you replying to Omi’s owls?”

“Things have been…hectic,” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair, his gaze skipping away from her.

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Are you still hanging around with Ashwinders?”

Sebastian fiddled with his hair a bit more, sighing as he looked at Anne. “I have my reasons.”

“And none of them good,” Anne huffed, shaking her head. Her mouth tightened. “I know she’s out, by the way. Ominis told me about the reckless decision to release MC, and it was in The Daily Prophet this morning. It’s ridiculous! She is a menace to society. Have you seen her?”

“No,” he said shortly, a frown appearing on his brow. “Did you just say it was in the Prophet?”

Anne nodded. “Yes, there was an article printed just for her. As far as anyone else is concerned, she went down for our uncle’s murder, and the newspaper insists on highlighting her heroism as though that makes it alright that she now walks the streets.”

Ignoring Anne’s eyeroll, Sebastian’s thoughts were racing as he wondered what Rookwood made of this. If she was now publicly a free woman, then there was no reason for Leander to be holding her hostage somewhere.

“MC is not a villain, Anne,” Sebastian said, with a sigh. “She shouldn't have been in Azkaban in the first place.” 

“No, it should have been you,” Anne said coolly, giving him a hard look. “You're welcome, by the way. Despite your heinous act, I saved your backside from that prison. The least you could do is take that chance at freedom and do something worthwhile with it.” 

“I would say that finding you a cure is something worthwhile, Anne,” he said, narrowing his gaze. “You're welcome, by the way.” 

“Someone needs to tell you when you're being a stubborn fool,” Anne said, lifting her chin with her own stubborn haughtiness. “And that's exactly what you are, chasing after a cure that doesn't exist. I don't need one.”

“I can’t believe you can just sit back and accept it,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. “Don’t you want to be free of it? Don’t you want to be able to live the life you want?”

“I do live the life I want!” She protested, her eyes wide. “I married the man I love, I have a job that pleases me. What more could I want, Sebastian? The only thing that I wish for, is for my stupid brother to quit being an idiot and come home!”

“I don’t have a home,” he ground out, his hands clenched into fists, his cheeks flushing. “I refuse to go back to that house, that cold, empty house, that holds nothing but bad memories for me. Nothing happy happened there, Anne. Everyone left, including MC, and by your mouth no less. Not content with abandoning me yourself, you made damn sure I would be utterly alone by taking her, too.”

“She is no good for you, Sebastian, and I make no apologies for ridding her from your life,” Anne hissed. “She is wicked, dangerous, and she led you down a path of darkness. Please, don’t go looking for her. You need to leave the past behind you and move on.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” he insisted. “You didn’t give her the chance to show you. She tried to help find a cure for you, Anne, when nobody else would. If she was so wicked, she wouldn’t have done that. She might be powerful, but there is light in her, Anne. I can’t just abandon her.”

“Where is she, then? Hmm?” Anne held her hands out, a look on her face that suggested she wasn’t about to let this one go, not by a long shot. “She’s a free woman now, but I don’t see her hurrying back to your side.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched as he remembered the look in Prewett’s eyes when they had fought in the tunnel. He knew where she was. He clenched his left fist, the comfort of his scar keeping him steady. “Not yet, but she will.”

Anne looked pained, her head bowing as she shook her head, denying his words. “Let her go, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “It’s time to move on. It’s for the best.”

“Best for whom?” His voice cracked with bitterness. “That’s what you want, and Anne always has to get what she wants. Well, I don’t have to listen to this.”

Hardening himself, he stepped around her, his hands shaking as he made to move past her. The shadows that clung to his soul seemed to swirl and bend, shrouding his thoughts and making his chest tighten with a ball of iron.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she protested, her hand reaching to grasp his arm.

He paused, swallowing hard against the pain that squeezed his heart. He turned to look at her, his twin, the other half of him. “No, Anne,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t have walked away from me. I wasn’t the only one who made a choice that day. You made one, too. You turned your back on me, and you stole everything I had left when all I have ever done was for you. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life, not anymore.”

Anne’s eyes widened, the paleness of her face stark against the darkness around her eyes. “Sebastian…”

He didn’t know how he held himself steady, but he did. Tugging his arm free of her grip, he turned and walked away, leaving her in the shadowed turns of Knockturn Alley, tears swimming in his eyes and blurring his vision. So intent on placing one foot in front of the other, he didn’t even lift a hand to wipe away the stray tear that escaped and tracked down his cheek. 

MC

The night sky was littered with stars, blinking against the inky blackness, a huge expanse of beauty that MC could gaze up at without any barrier. The bite of autumn chill was in the air, but she kept the bedroom window open, leaning out to soak up the silence of the night. The distant and constant roar of the ocean on the beach below still sounded along the coast, but for miles around the cottage, there was nothing else. Breathing in the salty tang of the air, MC tried to focus on something positive, pushing back against the hollowness in her chest and the shadows of memory in her thoughts.

She was getting her wand back. She would be able to perform magic again.

The joy of it kept being smothered by the image of Sebastian on his Auror Office file. It had been breathtaking to gaze upon his face again after so long, and that had just been a photograph. Seeing it all in black and white, the confirmation that he was indeed in with Rookwood’s Ashwinders and alongside Luella Rookwood, too, was crushing. Sebastian had become something she used to fight against. Did that make him an enemy now?ì

Looking down at the scar on her hand, she felt the hollowness in her chest expand, loss seeping through her as she wondered where this left her now. Alone, again. Always, alone.

Biting her lip, she felt her cheeks warm, and she tucked her hands into her armpits, holding herself tightly as she gazed out at the starlit night. A lazy curl of fire flickered in her lower belly, her breaths quickening as her thoughts drifted towards the memory of being pressed up against Leander in the kitchen. Never had she dreamed that his lips could be so soft, his kisses so heated. It had shaken her to the core to feel the fire unleash so swiftly under his hands. It left her breathless and confused as that aching hole in her chest had begun to ease.

Pushing the memory aside, she turned from the window, moving to the dresser to fetch her nightshirt and prepare for bed, her eyes roaming over the soft blankets neatly made on the bed. She had yet to sleep in it, still curling up on the floor before the hearth rather than try out the softness of a mattress. Perhaps tonight she would be able to give it a try.

She was certainly tired enough, the day spent walking along the beach, her aching legs sinking into the soft sand as she tried to keep up with Leander’s long stride. He had been nothing but courteous towards her since their kiss, behaving with such politeness that it was beginning to annoy her. She had tried to get a rise out of him over dinner, teasing him a little like she used to, but he had remained stiff, retreating to his bedroom claiming he was going to read for a while. The sound of his door clicking shut had felt so isolating, her loneliness biting with sharp teeth as she too, tried to seek comfort in a book, but it was no use. The words meant nothing when all her eyes wanted to do was stray to the stairs in the hopes that Leander would return, but he didn’t.

She had told him not to get too close, to keep his distance, and he was doing just that. And she hated it.

Sitting before the dressing table, MC brushed out her hair, the strands shining in the light from the candle beside her. Carefully, she pressed her fingertips to her cheeks, seeing and feeling the difference brought on by the potions and the clear, sea air. Her stomach was warmed by proper food, and she was beginning to recognise the girl staring back. Apart from her eyes. They still looked like those of someone haunted, and she doubted that was going to change anytime soon. When she closed those eyes to sleep, her ghosts came out to taunt her dreams, reminding her of all the horrors she tried to suppress during the day.

Her eyes drifted to the bed behind her in the reflection of the looking glass, so soft and inviting, and yet she knew that if she allowed herself the luxury, her nightmares would come to punish her.

Dropping her gaze to her hands, she stared at her scar and, for the first time, resented it. She made a fist to hide it, eyes burning with tears as she looked back up at the mirror. When she kissed Leander back, surrendering to whatever fire he lit inside of her, it hadn’t hurt. A part of her had feared that giving herself to another man would make her blood burn with the betrayal, but it hadn’t. The only fire in her blood had been her hunger for the tall Auror who was in the room across the hallway. 

If it didn’t hurt her to kiss Leander, then Sebastian must be free to take passion with another, too. Luella’s pretty face swam behind her eyes and she clenched her fists even tighter, McKinnon’s taunts echoing in her ears. If he really had moved on without her, then she really was adrift in a world that was huge and daunting after four years in darkness. 

Getting quickly to her feet, she strode towards the bed, staring down at it. All she had to do was pull the blanket back and climb in. Easy. And yet, she stood there, her fists clenched and her muscles rigid. Four years of staring into cold darkness, four years of nothing but hardness and screaming terror, trapped with her own thoughts. She didn’t deserve to feel the warmth. The darkness had stared back at her and claimed her for its own. She was a killer, abandoned and alone.

Leaning forwards, she pressed her hands to the softness of the bed and almost wept, her throat closing as she stepped back away from it like she had been burned. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to feel the softness, to allow herself to sink into the comfort and safety that the bed could provide. It felt too vulnerable.

The hollow in her chest expanded and she pressed her hand to her thudding heart, panic seizing her as she stared at a future stretched out before her, the path long and empty. Which way should she turn? What path was the best choice? She had no idea. All she could do was follow the directives of her probation, serve the year under the Aurors, and then she could figure out the rest. If she didn’t die first.

Turning her gaze to the bedroom door, she realised that throughout that year, she had to report to Leander every single day in order to abide by the terms of her release. She wouldn’t be so alone after all, he was the only constant in her life right now.

The hole in her chest seemed to settle, her breathing calming as she focused on that thought. Even if he remained the perfect gentleman that he always presented himself as and kept their relationship one of simple kindness, she thought she could live with that. 

So, why was her hand lifting the latch on her door?

The old wood swung back, and she stepped out into the hall, her feet bare, wearing just a sleep shirt and her hair unbound. His door was firmly closed, and she couldn’t hear anything coming from behind it as she moved closer, the floorboards creaking softly under her feet. Standing before his door, she lifted her hand to knock, her heart in her mouth because she had no idea what she would say if he opened it. Breathing quick and shallow, she raised her hand but winced as her clenched fist unfurled, her palm pressing gently against the old wood. She didn’t knock.

Feeling like a fool, she leaned her forehead against the door next to her splayed hand. She knew that he would hold her if she asked it of him, his arms just seemed to wrap around her in a way that took some of the weight from her heart, but being that close would only remind her of his touch, his kiss.

Turning, she hurried back to her room, her fingers pressed to her mouth where he had kissed her with so much passion. Closing her eyes, she ignored the ache to just feel something, to feel that warmth that pushed back against the hole behind her ribs. Grabbing a blanket from the chair, she wrapped herself in it and curled up on the rug before the fireplace, the shifting dance of the flames beginning to fade into embers. Shivering a little, she hugged her knees and closed her eyes, hoping that her dreams would leave her be just this once. 

Leander didn’t want a girl like her in his life. She would only bring him pain and shadows. It was selfish to ask more of him when he had already given so much. For once, she needed to do the right thing. 

To be continued...

Thank you as always to @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour ✨️💕

Thank you to @ellivenollivander for the use of her OC, Odessa McKinnon

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13