#rubbing themselves to completion against the glass thinking about the memory of the other's touch

[sukugo]

i see ur can’t get aroused plantcest and i raise u can’t come plantcest;; can get as wet and as worked up as they fucking want vash can get fucked as much as he (other people lbr) would want but he’s just perpetually not coming not even while masturbating bc his body just does not see the need when there’s no other plant nearby

AYYEEEEE THAT'S HOT, it just builds and builds and builds, and it goes on for years, and every time it's worse, and it's making him crazy and it hurts. but he just. can't. oohhh that's sexy......

BUT BUT ALSO ANON, gonna derail this from naivash a bit bc im stuck on "when there’s no other plant nearby" and linking that to not only nai, but the other plants as well, and what that would mean for vash and the value of his plant healing visits. bc the plant healing would no longer be only to help his dying sisters, but also vash's only opportunities to get some relief.

they are the only moments when he's in the proximity of another plant, the only moments when he can orgasm. when his body will let him.

so he leans his head against the glass and his sister leans into his touch at the other side and, like clockwork, his body is tingling and reacting and fuck, he wishes not to, but he needs to, it's the only relief he can ever get, that he will get in who knows how long. so he succumbs to it, every time.

AND IM THINKING ESP HARD about a younger vash first coming to learn this, the boy going around helping his sisters and noticing that, every time he leans into their tanks, and they come to meet him, there's a thrum in his veins, electricity coursing along his skin. and his markings are glowing. and he's hot. and it's a feeling reminiscent of when he's alone in his rooms and rubs himself, sobbing as his body goes hot and hot and hot, and pleasure builds up and up and up, but never, never culminates

but—it's different.

bc it's been so long since he's felt this, specifically. felt a potential ability to finish. (something he hasn't felt in years, not since—). and he gasps. takes a hand to his crotch, presses. and his dick is throbbing, and his hole is leaking. and he can feel it. he might be able to. he might. he might come. and the thought of that, the prospect of it has his mind spinning and his heart drumming against his chest and his entire body aching in need.

since then, he always asks to be left alone with the plants during his visits.

[diana-fortyseven]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

Grabbing this from @mrsmungus! 😀

The lines I picked are all SFW, some of the fics however are not.

Gourd Intentions [T]: The air was almost completely still and the sun was warm on her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile at 47’s eagerness to explore the place; not only for safety reasons, but because of his desire to take it all in. They’d talked about making memories together, enjoying themselves any opportunity they got, and it was a relief to see that she’d rubbed off on him, to some extent. 47 tried to play it cool, but to her, it was obvious how much he was enjoying the day.

Forty-Seven Minutes [E]: Her hand rests on his shoulders and then his forearm and then his thigh, and she knows she’s sitting too close to him, but his aftershave smells so delicious; and she knows she’s laughing a bit too loud to his dry jokes, but she always liked how he wants to make her laugh. She knows she’s staring into his eyes and at his mouth a little too longingly, but she can no longer pretend that she doesn’t want him.

47 Shades of Burnwood [E]: They started to play a game, keeping eye contact while doing exercises as seductively as possible, pumping irons and stretching, making sure to give their partner a good show, and each day they were bolder with their obvious desire for each other. The other guests didn’t seem to care, or maybe they enjoyed it too; two beautiful bodies dancing around each other for an hour, before disappearing together to do a different kind of dance.

You've Done it Before [M]: Longing for a sip of water, he glanced around again. There was no bedside table, no table at all, nothing but this bed in the room. Was he a patient or a prisoner?

Two Sides of the Same Coin [E]: Somewhere below them, other hotel guests are talking on their balcony. Soon, they will have a spicier topic to gossip about. Diana smiles and takes the glass of red wine 47 offers. He only takes one sip from his whiskey before he pulls her closer and kisses her again. “You’re sure about this?” Diana smiles against his lips. “As sure as I’ll ever be.”

Nightcall [E]: They were both lost in their own thoughts, watching the waves crash against the sand in front of them, painting mesmerising patterns in the glistening moonlight whenever the storm parted the clouds long enough to reveal the full moon. It could’ve been beautiful, meaningful, poetic, if they actually were what they looked like, and not just an assassin and his handler. 47 knew not to read too much into the situation, but that didn’t mean he could stop himself from longing for more.

Shadows in the Water [E]: He sat down next to her, careful not to touch her bare knees with his. The cool water was indeed nice after a day on his feet, and he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “See, I know what you need.” There was something new in her voice, something warm but dangerous.

Fate and Destiny [T]: Now the veil was lifted, the clouds disappeared, and the light was too strong for him to handle; instead of illuminating his world, it kept drowning everything out, taking away the colours and the nuance, erasing everything else but her. She was the only one he could see, the only one he could think about, the only one he wanted, and it was scary, because he knew she didn’t feel the same for him.

Change of Plans [T]: That wasn’t how he’d expected their promised dinner to go, but he had to agree that it was best to settle in, just in case the guards were not giving up on roaming the mall. He took a sip of his slushy; too cold and with an artificial flavour that had nothing to do with cherries. To his surprise, he liked it anyway.

Blueberry Muffins [T]: His mood lifts inexplicably, just from the anticipation of having her sit next to him in a few moments, hearing her voice without mic and earpiece, almost feeling the warmth radiating from her body. Maybe he can even dare to have a brief look at her from up close, if only of her reflection in the window.

Tagging @cajunandfire, @postalninja, @apricotbones, @cicaklah, @mtraki, @myth-blossom, @air-tuna-art, @greengoldfish, @sillyliterature, @issytheamateurnerd, and everyone else who sees this and wants to join! 😀

[the-helmet-stays-on]

Crash Landing II

Chapter Two - Perpetual Interference 

Pairing(s): Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Mando brings you back home, but you can’t get him out of your head. 

Warnings: SMUT (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, Dom!Mando, slight descriptions of injury

Gif originally posted by bestintheparsec

Read Chapter one here

When you flutter your eyes open all you see is cold smooth steel. You shift quickly to your elbows and rub the sleep from your eyes to look at your surroundings.

The memories of last night come to the forefront of your mind when you lay your eyes on Mando. He sits against the wall opposite to you and you can see him cleaning his rifle. You watch his fingers move smoothly across the barrel and down to the stock. His left hand holds the weapon steady while his other right holds the cleaning cloth. It dips into the channels and nooks of the weapon, making sure to get every inch thoroughly. 

“Good morning,” he says without pausing his movements.

“Good morning, Mando” your voice comes out in a rasp. You bring your hand to the swollen skin of your neck. It’s tender to the touch. You haven’t had a chance to look yet but, you’re sure there's a gnarly bruise there. You take a moment to stretch out your stiff muscles. You reach your arms over your head as far as the cramped space will allow. You release a froggy groan at the exertion. A few cracks can be heard from your compressed joints finally extending themselves. 

“How are you feeling?” Only then does halt his actions and lift his gaze.

“I’m okay I think, just sore” You sit up and scoot down to the edge of the bunk so your feet dangle over the side. 

You watch him rise to his feet and fix his rifle onto his back. He strides over to you, drops to his knee, then starts to examine your injuries. He lifts your leg so that your calf lays across his propped up thigh.

“How does this feel?” He gently rotates your ankle in a circle. You scrunch up your face and draw a sharp breath in.

“Not great” You answer honestly “but better than before.” 

“It might need a another day of rest but I think you’ll survive” 

This makes you chuckle.

“Thank you for the optimism, doctor” You retorted. 

His attention moves higher up your leg as he peels back the bandages on your knees. The scrapes are almost completely healed. Then his hand slides up the outer edge of your thigh. The fabric of your dress is moved just a fraction to reveal the slice there. It had scabbed over and looked more like a faint scratch now. His thumb runs up the length on it and back down. You suppress a shiver. 

“I suppose you're ready to go home now?” he asks.

“Oh right, I nearly forgot about that,” you answer truthfully. 

Your eyes are glued onto his palm still splayed across your thigh. You drew in a shaky breath. Your delicate fingers deliberately find their way on top of his. Slowly, you tighten your grip around the leather covered hand. It’s warm, even through all the material. Not as rough to the touch as you would expect. You shift your eyes to meet the black glass of his visor. He stays frozen in place, not retreating or flinching back. Your digits wrap around and raise his hand up to meet your lip. You place a gentle kiss onto his knuckles. You hold there for just a moment while keeping your gaze on him. 

A squeal rings through the hull. You immediately drop his hand and you both whip around to the source of the noise. The little one is perched on the edge of his cradle and you see a trail of tears flowing from it’s massive eyes. 

Mando leaps up to take the baby into his arms. He rocks the child lightly while holding him close and pats it’s tiny back to soothe it. The sobs soon taper out into quiet whimpers. It snuggles closer against Mando’s chest plate. You sit back and admire while the scene plays out in front of you. 

“It’s lucky to have you looking after it,” you say.

“He” 

“What?”

“It’s a he, I'm pretty sure,” Mando corrects you.

“Oh, alright. What’s his name?”

He pauses at this question then looks down to the baby. “I don’t know”

You nod. This has been a strange morning. 

“I think he’s starting to get restless” Mando concludes

Once the baby has settled down again, Mando bends and places him back into the cradle. He reaches into one of the many pockets on his belt and pulls out a silver ball. He hands it over to the child and his grabby hands take it excitedly. The little one seems content with this and sits back in his nest of blankets.

Mando walks to the control panel on the wall and starts pressing buttons. The door of the ship creaks open then begins to lower down. The bright light outside is blinding compared to the dim confines of the ship. You hold your hand in front of your eyes to block the offending rays. You can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside and the wind stirring through the trees. 

You brace yourself on the nearby wall to stand. When you feel the cool ground underneath you, you look down and see your bare foot. You scan the floor and spot your shoe in the opposite corner.

Mando watches you limp your way across the hull to retrieve the item. He beats you to it and takes a knee before you with the boot in hand.

“Let me help you” 

You sigh and lean against the wall, reluctant to accept the help but grateful for the assistance. The boot is slid over your bandaged foot. He ties the laces gently, as not to disturb your injury. 

“Thank you,” you say once he stands. He simply nods in response.

You start to descend the ramp with Mando close behind. He fiddles with something on his cuff and you see the child’s pod hover beside the two of you as you start making your way back to your house.

—

After a bit of hiking you finally reach the town. The beige buildings come into view and you can see the groups of people wandering the walkways. The sun is now high in the sky, showing its about midday. You lead Mando through the familiar streets of your village and weave through the numerous homes and businesses until you finally arrive in front of your own house. 

“Well, this is my stop,” you turn to face him. “Not as grand as your ship but it’s home”

“Your family is probably worried about where you’ve been all night,” 

“Oh no, it’s uh– it’s just me here. I don’t really have anyone, anymore.” you speak softly.

“I’m sorry,” his sincere tone is reassuring to you.

“It’s alright. I've been on my own for a while now. Doesn’t really bother me much these days,” you pause for a moment. “Um, thank you again by the way. For everything”

“You don’t need to thank me” He responds. Just behind him you spot the cradle floating in place. You see the pod is closed, you figure he must have fallen asleep again. Then you look back to Mando. 

“I do, you saved my life last night. I only wish I had some way to show my gratitude” you almost feel guilty for all the time and energy he’s given you so far.

“If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have been in this mess at all,” When he says this you furrow your brows in confusion. “He was looking for me, for the kid. If I had left sooner you wouldn’t be hurt”

You take a moment to reflect on this. You didn’t understand a lot of the things he talks about. All about bounties, space travel, and being on the run apparently. You know this should all be raging red flags but the more he spoke, the more your curiosity was sparked. All you know is your little swamp planet full of krill farms and logger camps. 

You look at your small one bedroom home and think of how this is all you have to your name. Then you think of Mando, all of the galaxy at his fingertips. How his only constant is his ship, everyday waking up on a new planet, in a new sector of the universe. Out of all of the planets that exist, he landed here and found you.

“I’m glad we got to meet again, no matter the circumstances” you speak honestly. “If you ever find yourself in this corner of the galaxy again, don’t be a stranger. Remember, you always have lodging here.”  

“I will,” 

“You better” you playfully warn. You reach to open your door but when you look down at your wrist you notice the dark fabric covering you. You’re still wearing his shirt. 

“I didn’t realize I still had this on, here–” You grip the bottom of the material and start to pull it off but a gloved hand extends to halt your movements. 

“No, you keep it. You wear it better” 

You can’t hide the grin pulling at your cheeks. You let the material drop down again. Finally you open the door to your house and step inside. You look back and Mando is already walking away, the pod drifting behind. 

You close the door, and rest against it’s hardwood. You rub your face hard and sigh heavily. What are you supposed to do now? Just go to work tomorrow like nothing happened? Like you didn’t just almost die and get rescued but essentially a knight in shining armor.   Actually yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do because this is reality. Your life isn't a fairytale.

— 

The steam clouds the mirror of your bathroom. You wipe away the condensation to see your reflection. It was definitely an improvement from the frazzled state you were in before. You dry your dripping hair and then wrap the towel around your body as you step into your bedroom. Goosebumps form on your bare skin as a breeze drifts through your open window. You push the fluttering curtains aside to look out into the evening atmosphere. You see a view of the dark forest and you can hear the branches rustling in the crisp night air blowing through the leaves. 

You look beside your bed and see your discarded clothes from earlier. Your tattered dress lies next to Mando’s shirt. You place the towel aside and throw the garment over your still damp body. You catch a faint smell of gunpowder and leather when it slides over your head. You pull the neckline up, close your eyes, and take a deep inhale of the scent. You let yourself fall back on top of the bed and allow your mind to drift. You wonder what Mando’s doing right now. 

You picture him sitting in the pilot seat pressing buttons and pulling levers. Flying at the speed of light, stars streaking across the sky before him. Already far from your little home. 

Maybe he’s playing with the kid and his little silver ball. You smile when you think of his big frame bent over playing baby games and talking gibberish with him. Feeding him bite sized snacks and rocking him to sleep. 

Maybe he’s hunting, just lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to capture his prey. Yards away stalking his unsuspecting victim as they complete mundane tasks, unaware of the predator watching them. Not knowing the danger they are so close to.

Or maybe he just got back from a mission. Exhausted and dirty from the hunt. He trudges onto his ship and piece by piece he sheds his heavy armor. He removes all his weapons and gadgets. He strips down so he can take a scalding shower to sooth his aching muscles. He would probably be so tense, needing a release. 

You can see him leaned against the wall of the steaming shower stall. He allows the water to run over his broad shoulder and down his toned back. It flows across his hardened chest and down his abdomen. 

You let your restless hand slide down your body and close your eyes.

Then you see yourself, standing bare before him. Mando grabs you by the hips and pulls you close. “You know what I need.” Of course you do. His strong hands spin you around so your face is pressed into the wall. “Are you going to take it like a good little whore?”

“Yes,” your finger slips in between your folds. 

He pushes into you, agonizingly slow. A low groan erupts from his throat when he fully sits inside you. Then he pulls back at the same excruciating pace. His hand slithers up the front of your body and up to your neck. You whine out, can’t accept the teasing, you need all of him now, but he does nothing to soothe you. His digits hold a firm grasp on you. Then, he slams into you and begins a brutal pace on your aching cunt. He’s pressing you further into the wall and all you can do is accept his relentless thrusts.

You’re shaking now. You rub tight circles on your clit. Your fantasy consumes you. 

He yanks you back by your throat so you're pressing tightly to his chest as he's pounding up into you. His mouth leans in right next to your ear. “Maker, I can feel your sweet little cunt squeezing my cock so tight, baby. Are you getting close already? My dirty girl, you like me wrecking your sweet little cunt?” His filthy whispers make the fire in your belly burn even hotter. 

“Yes Mando, I love it” Your finger penetrates your aching pussy, pumping in and out feverishly. You feel your climax approaching rapidly. The other hand is clutching onto the sheets under you, trying to ground yourself. 

He switches his grip from your neck to your hair. Finger weaving through your locks and yanking your head back. You arch against him and then you feel his cock hit at just the right angle.  You want to scream. “You’re taking it so good, my perfect little whore. Made to take my cock right?”

“Stars, yes, it feels so good” You moan out.

“I bet it does, I can feel how much you like it. Your fucking dripping. I want you to tell me who makes you this wet?”

“It’s you Mando, Maker it’s you.” You gasp out and just like that you topple over the edge. You moan out and scrunch your eyes shut. His name falls from your mouth like a prayer. Back arching off the bed, the shirt bunches around your waist. You ride the high until the very end, milking every last drop of pleasure. You slow down your movements once you’ve worked completely through your orgasm. 

Your chest is heaving and your head is spinning. Your shaky hands pull down the shirt to cover yourself. You can feel the wetness dripping on your thighs. You stand on wobbly legs to go clean up.

A shiver runs up your spine. You feel the crisp night air nipping at your exposed skin as you walk by the open window. You step over to close it but as you gaze out you can just barely spot a glint of light, reflecting off of armor. 

You take in a sharp breath and step backwards, your eyes not leaving the figure. Mando is there, standing among the greenery. His visor stares straight ahead. You can feel his eyes on you, he knows. 

Shame burns through you, not believing your own eyes. You close them in embarrassment. You feel absolutely indecent. When you open your eyes you see nothing but the dark forest. You take a moment to scan the treeline for any sign of life. 

A harsh banging echo through the house. You jump at the noise. Your breath quickens and your blood runs cold. 

You exit your bedroom and stride over to the front door. You stand before it. Your mind is still vaguely hazy. Unstable legs hold you up. This quick shift in mood has you reeling. 

Your hand hovers over the handle. A million different scenarios playing out at once in your mind. A lump in your throat is forming and you try to calm your nerves. The door’s knob sits, taunting you. Begging for you, just open it.

You pull the door open and there he is. 

He towers over you, broad shoulders nearly take up the whole door frame. The moon is projecting a warm light onto the shining armor plates. You can see your reflection on his helmet. A distorted image of you yourself looks back, she looks so small. His visor stays unmoving from your face.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you once I got back to the ship.” he modulated voice cuts through the silence. “I wanted to make sure you were okay”

You swallow hard at his confession. A chill sweeps through the door and you're hyper aware of your lack of clothes but, you're trying your hardest to focus on what he’s saying.

“Then I saw you, wearing my shirt. Only my shirt” He takes a deep breath in and releases it shakily. “I heard what you were saying. The way you called out for me.. ” he trailed off.

You’re on fire. You know your cheeks are blazing red and you feel as though you could combust at this very moment. 

He steps through the threshold and into your home. He closes the door without looking away from you. Your feet stay planted in place. You hear him say your name, it’s low like a growl. Like a threat. 

“You're driving me insane,” his hands are clenched into fist at his sides. You can see his chest rising and falling with every breath.

You finally find your voice.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Chapter Three - Unsolicited Rescue

[pupiiaye]

Reminiscence of Violence //. A yandere Diluc x GN reader.

They were a virus, a disease that needed curing, a simple tune that needed listening. They were a pill, an addiction if you will. He had to have it, he craved it more than the bloodlust that trickled through his veins and caused up a storm. What exactly was this feeling? Why did he feel it? Why was it more intense than the deaths and bloodshed he's seen a thousand times over? And why… why did he want it so badly? Why did he want to rip it from its core and feast upon it like a starving man? Tonight, he will have his answer.

Fair warnings: knife play, character death / threat implied, possessiveness, spankings, dirty talk, a rather dark Diluc, markings.

------

The stars in the sky glistened above them, whispering secrets told from different lands, different stories. The clear wind danced through trees, kissed against skin, leaving their invisible mark against the bare flesh. It was not odd to be seen wandering around the grassy plains of Mondstadt, travelers and knights had duties to attend to, commissions to complete and bounties to conquer. Moonlight blessed those who decided to wander without any real reason, the wanderer in question being a simple soul. One who had found themselves living amongst the city of freedom for quite some time. Not a knight, but a fair citizen who took the pleasure in helping others. They didn't consider themselves to be a savior, nor did they consider themselves to be someone without any purpose. This was the main reason as to why they've managed to catch the eye of /the/ the richest man in Mondstadt.

It goes without saying that this was rather impressive, everyone can see the clear hook they had on him. The addiction they provided without even doing as much as lifting a finger. Their eyes screamed of excitement, and in return the ex knight's heart would scream with desire. Diluc, quiet noble man who had his morals, his regrets, and his fancies. Diluc, the man who didn't take pleasure in affairs or hit offs, the man who cared not of looks but of trust and genuine emotions.

This drove a man crazy, off the walls even. It was not of hate, but confusion as to why or how one person could pull the heaviest of beats out of his once dying heart. Frowns that once covered his features turned into ones of admiring grins, turned into little smirks whenever they would ramble and rant about their passions. Beauty, they were littered with it, from the very gleam of irises to the movement of plush lips. Archon's, he wanted to taste them, wanted to nibble and bite into those moving pillows they called lips. He wanted to make them bleed and bruise after getting done with kissing them, and would he stop there? Absolutely not.

His daydreams were becoming worse, and the only thing that could snap him out of them were the blissful sounds of laughter. The symphony of little chuckles mixed in with a breathy hiccup of air. Oh, he knew this sound like he knew the scriptures of poetry, this sound was one he got drunk on. Instead of wine, he could listen to his baby's sweet giggles until death slayed him where he stood.

The reason as to why it was happening, however, was enough to make a man see red. How dare he? How dare that betraying drunk prick, the simple audacity of this … Fool. Was he asking for another death wish, perhaps? Did he wish to watch the flames of hell rise once more? Did he want Diluc to throw him out in the coldness of oceans and watch him choke and gasp and cling on to whatever breath of fucking air he could get? So many questions, not enough action. The solid glass in his hand could shatter from how tight he was gripping it, however Diluc was a man with pride, a man with patience and logic on his side. He would not yell, he would not allow his nerves to get the best of him. What he will do, is way worse than a simple “get the hell out” will do.

“Sir Kaeya, last time I checked, that was your fifth drink as of tonight. I suggest you wrap it up quickly before it gets too dark.”

The words were not of an option, but rather one of a demand. Those blazing embers Diluc called eyes were boring into a crystal one. He did not care where Kaeya went, how he got there, or where he will end up. All he knows is that he best make his decision quick before patience thinned out. The look he got in return did nothing to calm his raging pulses of blood either, he could kill this man given that chance again. This time, Diluc wouldn't forget it.

“My, what a rush… Pardon me, Master Diluc. I was not aware you had other things to tend to, throwing me out so soon. Or do you wish to have them to yourself, hm? Very well, I mustn't interrupt your … Desires. Just do not have too much fun whilst everyone are away, it would only make me jealous. Ain't that right, sweetheart?”

This chattering baboon talked too much, he was too touchy with what clearly belonged to Diluc. He did things too much, talked too smoothly, acted as if they had any interest in him when Diluc knew for a fact who the real winner was. As expected, Kaeya always thought certain things belonged to him, and for once in his life Diluc had the urge to be as competitive as his brother.

“Are you quite done? Hurry up and take your leave, or do I have to throw you out myself?”

Venom laced with every word, hands turning white from how hard he gripped onto the table. Mark his words, when he's done laying claim, this man was next on his overdue hit list. His thoughts were so loud that he didn't even hear his brother mocking him before the tavern doors closed with a squeak. So loud that he didn't even hear his soon-to-be — no, that's not right. They are his dearest, his love, his desires, and everything more. Right? Why would they look at him with such concern if not were true? Why would they touch his arm and smile so sweetly if not for him? Did they not come to him, and only him when scared, if not because they held dear feelings that he too reciprocated? They loved him, it was plain as can be. They adored him even, yet they were too shy to admit it to his face. Figures, Diluc knew this, he knew them more than the back of his hand. They just need a little help expressing It, right? Especially with the way they were chatting and laughing up a storm with his dearest, soon to be dead, brother.

Clouded eyes came back down to heaven, that heaven being the warm smile of his love. That's so much better, he didn't want to see that smile directed towards anyone else but him, it wasn't their fault. They didn't know that they belonged to Diluc yet, and that was okay. This is why he must teach a very simple lesson. One that will engrain itself in their memories until death.

“I find it funny…” eyes hands smooth over the wooden surface of the bar stand. He took in the smoothness, the patterns that followed along his fingers. “I find it hilarious even, how he thinks you belong to him when we both know that isn't true, right?”

What was that expression they wore? Confusion? Oh, how Diluc loved it when they played stupid, they were nothing of the sort. Perhaps they wanted to entice Diluc further, pull him in deeper, so he could ravish them against this here bar stand. Yeah, that's exactly what it was, Diluc could tell, he knew the signs all well. Being the observant man he was, he would not allow this one to wiggle free from his dangerous palms.

Slowly, gloves slowly began their journey off of slender fingers. Those red eyes burning into ones of a pretty little thing, just waiting to be taken. Their body screamed to be claimed and taken over by, but not just for anyone — no. He danced those same eyes up and down, taking their time to design the way they'll look, shivering and begging for more of him. He took his time imprinting the thought of them choking on air as he drew breaths and sweet words out of them. Bare hands reached for the blade tucked away in the waist band of his pants. Hands gliding over the wooden surface as long legs carried him out to where they sat. Confusion on their face turned into one of interest, and oh Diluc could not wait until that face of theirs turned into one of pleasure, pain, and agony. He wanted to make them beg, scream, chant his name like a god-damn song. It will happen, he's sure of it. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape. The only thing saving them from Diluc's hands was Diluc alone.

“Now, I hate to be the giver of bad news, but he doesn't own you. You do not beckon to his every call, and you certainly do not belong to him. Your thoughts, your words, your actions, even the way you move…”

A small sigh, eyes casting down on sweet thighs that were soon to be marked with the carvings of his name

“You know it all belongs to me, correct? When you lay in bed, and you drift your pretty head to sleep, you are aware you dream of me, yes? When you bat those eyes and look up … At me, you know I am the one who controls that seemingly empty head of yours, right?”

There's so much silence, but Diluc has enough patience to see the way their legs clench at every word, could hear the way their breathing thickens and stutters in the back of their throat. That's all he needed to see to know what he was saying was nothing far from true. Finally, hands are reaching forward, moving to caress and then cup at warm cheeks. Blushing, he can tell just from how abnormally hot they were. Their temperature is never this warm, he should know since he memorized their normal body heat.

“So you do know that. Then why is it, why my pretty flaming flower…”

Remember back when he thought he had patience? Apparently he had thought wrong of himself. He found his hands gripping tightly to their jaw, the free hand coming down to cup at smooth thighs. Oh, oh how they flinched so beautifully in his grasp, oh the hopeless look in their eye made his dick sing. They way they didn't resist, the way their thighs rubbed together. Their body was so damn honest, what was he to do? How could he not take them when they were basically asking for it?

"Why is it you let him touch you? Why did you allow him to touch and flirt with something that clearly belongs to me? Answer me, quickly."

He saw their mouth open to talk, and for a moment he had nothing but the thought of making them choke on his cock. Soon, not tonight, but soon enough.

"I'm sure he wasn't flirting, Diluc. You know Kaeya, he talks with charm, theres nothing I can do about that."

Wrong move.

A deep breath was taken before a hot hand reached up to grab at their arms, pulling them up just to twist them around and push them against the edges of his very own bar.

"Give me a good reason why I should not mark this body with my name at this moment."

He didn't give them time to answer, too busy trailing the edges of a blade down their clothed back. No matter, they do not need to talk all too much. Diluc only wanted to hear their cries and begs, nothing more nothing less. "Tell me that you desire me. I need to hear you speak your truth before I continue, I already know that you do so do not try to lie to me, dear flower."

His words spoke deep into their ear, tone clear and free from hesitation. And when their lips opened to plead for him, oh it made it all the much better. His pride hit the ceiling, he knew it. All those signs from before were so true, and now he was able to hear it for himself, soak in those desperate words of, "yes Diluc, please take me. Make me yours, please." oh how polite they were, always so obedient, always listening out for any command. What a good pet they were, what a good flower they were.

The sounds of material being cut open filled the thick air, along with those rough fingers feeling up the smooth of their back, enjoying the way his canvas felt right under his flaming tips. Diluc could not wait to sink his teeth in and taste their sweet necture himself. Those eyes drunk up their topless form once more before trailing the knife further down, he had other days to take his time with them. Tonight they were his to destroy and break down.

Lips and teeth ran free on their body. Leaving purplish marks against sweet tender skin, his knife work not being cut short. He made sure to tear at their bottoms leaving them in nothing but the bruises he had gifted them. Their sweet moans and whimpers filling his ears, filling his desire to ruin them even further. He wasted no time in running possesive hands down their waist, grabbing at thighs just to pull them apart. The squirming under his palms not going unnoticed, infact he laughed something dark at the way their body twitched and pathetically squealed under his touch.

'Look at you. Isn't this just pathetic, if it were any other day I would give you the honor of laying under my damn boot just to watch your body squirm for me. Just to watch it beg for me to continue, Archons look at how you move, and you expect me to just stand idle while others try and get of piece of you? No, I refuse."

It didn't end there, his touches only got more intense. Grabbing a handful of their ass, manhandling it under a rough smack was placed upon them. Oh he hoped that left a bruise, he hoped that with another smack they would cry out /louder/ for him. He deserved to hear. After nights and endless nights of not being able to see them under him, Diluc deserved to watch them grow more desperate for him.

"Look at that, look at you squirm for me and not him. Listen to the way you call my name and not his. Do you know what that is? It's the signs of you belonging to me, nobody else but me. And if I catch anyone, and I mean /anyone/ putting their damn hands on you I will make sure to take you in front of them. That is a promise, my flower."

He made sure they could feel his now slicked up warm fingers prodding at their entrance, the dark chuckle exiting from his lips and into their burning ears. The warmth of their gates of heaven fans against his fingers and diluc can't help but groan out in pure need. Oh how crazy they make him. With caution diluc moves his fingers in, one and then the next and then the next after that. Each finger slipping inside once pained gasps turned into ones of satisfaction and greed. They were so good for him, taking him like he was no damn problem. As expected of course, it were only his fingers after all, but soon...

Sounds of metal and then thick clothing could be heard hitting the ground. Their ears can pick up the way diluc's breathing deepened, showing signs of how badly he needed this just as much as they did. Hot hands suddenly slam on either side of them, their skin touching so they can feel how hot Diluc was at the moment. No words were spoken while a hand came behind them, caressing that sweet throat just to pull their head back. Lips coming in contact with their own, connecting in this brutal dance of love, crazy untammed and dangerous love.

This was a great time for him to distract them, leading his aching cock with the other free hand he had. Poking at their entrance with the demand to be let in, eyes glowing with determination. Inch by inch walls wrapped tight around him loosened up the more they took him in. Archons the way they arched against his chest and lips trembled against his own, the way they whimpered and furrowed their eyebrows, gods help him for he is a man weakened by the simple sight of them breaking down.

"That's it... There we go, you take it. You take it like the good bitch you are, yeah? Look at you, god damn look at you. Do you think kaeya could make you react like that? Here allow me to help you answer that."

Hips finally got sent flying home. Making contact with their skin, kissing at the thin layer of sweat, evidence of how much work was put in. Diluc felt his grin widen, something so foreign to his features, yet he invited it in whenever they were involved. One hand came down to grip at those hips, pulling them back home to the base of his cock every single time. They cries, oh their sweet cries encouraged diluc to destroy that willing hole of theirs. The tears that began to bubble up brought him nothing but satisfaction, the gush and mess made was art against his now squirming canvas.

"Harder. Cry harder for me if you wish to cum, I promise you I'm not allowing you out of this damn tavern until your tears beg me to. You can squirm and gush all over my fucking cock as much as you please, but until I start seeing some real tears... Well, baby love, you can kiss Kaeya goodbye, would be a shame for him to lose a friend, hm?"

This was followed by harsher thrust, his dick swelling up to the brim, damn near ready to explode and unload deep inside of their aching fuckhole. Oh but the harder they teared up and rushed out with tears, the more diluc couldn't help but wish to fill them up with his thickening seed. His hand on their throat growing tighter and tighter until one more thrust sent them jerking against the edge. Hand now moving to their head, pushing them down until their faces squished against the wooden table. He kept them there while hips rolled his name out against their ass, unloading his cum inside of their shivering walls. Feeling them clench and gush with their own orgasm, oh how proud he was to know they knew when to cum. How proud he was to know that his flower could milk him for everythiing he had.

"That's it.. There we go, you are so good for me, sweet flower. Unfortunately I am not finished with you."

Diluc, a man who will never be satisfied until things were perfect. Diluc , a gentlemen , a man who only believed in trust and hard work. Diluc, the man who could go more than one or two rounds. Diluc , the man who made them scream until their throat went dry and their vision went blurry.

Tonight he laid his claim, and much like many other nights, he will make sure the entire city of Mondtstadt knew who they belonged to.

[lyallblacklupin]

Sirius tries to remember Remus.

Post-Azkaban Wolfstar: Angst with Hopeful Ending.

Sirius is battling with his memory after Azkaban. 12 years of dementors torturing him, that had caused some real damages to his brain. He doesn’t remember people until they introduce themselves to him. Everyone is steering clear his way but Remus hasn’t given up on him yet.

These days are sickening. They make you feel so lonely and ugly. They tell you—no they scream at you that you don’t deserve anything. Know why? Because you don’t matter. You don’t exist. The most horrifying thing about those voices is that they can make you believe they are saying the truth. Like I did. And I still do, and believe me, it’s not good.

Life is just unfair is so easy to say, it’s just a slip of tongue as if you are consoling a group of people, like Madam Hooch used to when we would lose to Slytherins because they played dirty. However, realizing the fact how unfair life really is, is gut-wrenching. It forces you to become unlike yourself. It puts malevolent ideas in your head for the people who you love—or used to loved. I would go on and blame these walls, but then I’m questioning the universe that why did I have to be born here? The Grimmauld Place 12? And then I’m eventually answered; Life is unfair, you git, haven’t you get it yet?

The nights are terrible here, I hear Kreacher whispering to my charming mother’s portrait, I hear the floor creaking even though no one comes here, except they are invited by Dumbledore—which sounds weird because it’s my house but again, life is just unfair.

Right now, I’m struggling to sleep because there is a prickling fear sitting at the edges of my body. The fear of Dementors for taking the last of everything away.

I still have some good memories, like the one when James made me Harry’s Godfather. Harry’s big emerald eyes were streaming with fat tears until he was given into my arms. I can remember that I had gasped at the scene, and so did the others in the room.

“Oh Sirius! He was crying for like an hour! But he stops now!? I swear this is not a coincidence!” Lily said, but James had been quiet.

“Prongs?” No answer.

“Prongsie? Hey!” Because I caught him pressing his hand on his mouth forcefully, his face blotchy, and he didn’t stop sniffing. He was crying! “What? Like you—father and son both work alternatively? When Harry stops crying, he transfers his weeping mantra to you, and vice versa?”

“Shut up!” Before I said something, I let out an ‘oof’ because James shoved me in his embrace, sandwiching Harry in middle of the process. Harry was giggling with his tear-stained face. His laugh was like music to my ears. I didn’t mention that. I was in love with Harry. He felt like my own child. I never thought I’d feel this exuberance but there was, more than I expected. I was bad at displaying true affection in front of people, but I couldn’t help when Harry’s tiny and chubby hands brushed the collar of my jacket, utterly in awe with the feeling of material on his fingers, I completely forgot James was hugging me, and I managed to press a kiss on Harry’s cheek. He smelled like soft babies. I was in love with that scent. I wanted to hold him forever.

I can never forget that memory. It helps me cast a patronus. There is also something vague about that memory. There is someone too in the small crowd, behind me, other than James. I can remember there was the blonde girl, Mckinnon, and her best friend, Meadows-something. I struggle with names. Sometimes I forget—

“Sirius?”

—Remus’ name. I have to see or hear the person to see if I can remember.

“I’m in my room?” He calls me out every time for like the hundredth time he has found me in my bedroom, and yes, I am still in my bedroom. He won’t stop calling me out. Sometimes, he is very annoying.

“Oh yeah, Of course.” He appears at the doorway, leaning to his left, smiling weakly. He looks tired. He is short of breath. I want to give him a glass of water but my limbs are protesting.

“I could give you a glass of water, but I—just don’t feel like getting up.” I didn’t want to say that but I did because the expressions on Remus’ face are priceless. There is awkwardness written on his face with a hint of shock and sadness. There is nothing pretty about that, but it brings back an indistinct memory I enjoy that I cannot tell. I am disturbing. That’s another trait I have discovered about myself ever since I came back from Azkaban.

“No, it’s alright. I just had water. Not thirsty at all. I—umm…I brought you something.” He says, and then I notice a package in his hand.

“Hope it’s not something you and your werewolf buddies plays with.”

“Ha, no, I wish. But it’s something I needed to give you…from a very long time.” He comes and sits beside me. I had to sit up because I can’t let him touch me. I don’t know why but I am always scared of Remus Lupin, and it is my secret, “Here.” He gives me the package, and looks into my eyes. I try looking away but I couldn’t try harder.

“Happy Birthday.” He whispers, and it sends a shudder to my body. What is the date today?

I open the package, and there it is. A photo frame. It was a leather frame. Black. I am trying not to look at the picture so I distract myself by admiring the leather. And again, I remember Harry. But it is a forced visualization so it doesn’t last longer. I am very much aware of Remus’ presence. I am also getting short of breath now. I look at him and he is already staring at me. I smile at him, but he frowns. And then I frown, too. What is wrong? I saw his hand coming up near my face, and I bat away.

He is gawking at him with wide and horrified eyes, and a hurt expression.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t…I just—I am sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know you don’t. But you eventually do.” It doesn’t come out bitter. He is smiling at me, but he isn’t done talking, “Sirius, I want to talk. It is eating me alive. Sometimes, I don’t think I am left with much longer in me…But, hey,” He reaches out but stops immediately, “Please…I—I want to talk to you about…Everything or anything. We can talk about us?”

“Us?”

“Yeah…If you want to,”

“There is no Us, Remus.”

“There used to be.” I snort, but he is frowning. I hate his frowns. Why can’t he just smile like a normal person?

“Like what? Did we snog? Or shagged once or twice?” I can’t recall any heterosexual experience, so I can’t say I have never done anything with a guy.

“Sirius, was that picture not enough?” He said with such sadness. And then I look at the picture.

And then I see it. There is a younger version of Remus Lupin, wearing a giant grey jumper, sitting on a library’s table. How decent. There is someone in between his legs, standing before him. It is a dark-haired guy, wearing a Gryffindor tie on his hogwarts’ uniform. He has his hands wrapped around Remus’ torso. A thick curtain of his long hair is almost concealing the half of his face, considering how much it is already buried in Remus’ chest. He squeezes gleefully which causes the younger Remus to erupt with laughter. The scene goes back and forth. And then I spot two people sitting in far distance. They were unmistakably James and Lily. They are the only people I recognize. Those two are cackling because how stupidly romantic the two boys are acting against each other. The picture keeps playing, and I focus again on the couple in the spotlight, and I realize that little Remus is trying to press a kiss on the guy’s forehead but the other person doesn’t stand still, constantly whipped his long hair—and then I freeze all of a sudden. Because I see it. The grey eyes, the long hair, and especially the scar on the left wrist, which still glows sliver in the daylight when I secretly stand in the balcony.

“That is us.” It comes out of my mouth even though I never expect myself to say it.

“Yeah, you and me. We were not just each other’s quick snog, or shagging partner. We go way back, Padfoot. Longer than James and Lily.”

“I don’t remember you…” It comes out as a whimper. I feel stupid and vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry for what I did. I never apologized about this…I wanted to—“

“I don’t remember you…”

“—but I never really got a chance. I’m sorry I thought you could betray the Potters. I’m sorry that I kept myself believing for twelve years that it was you. But I swear to Merlin, I never stopped loving you—“

“I don’t remember you, Remus…” But he is not listening.

“—I used to hate myself for this. I felt disgusting that I still loved you. And then I melted myself in filthy thoughts. No one was there to judge me. I used to picture you all the time, sitting on the sofa waiting for me to come back from the muggle job you hated. I used to see you laying on the bed in the night. I used to imagine myself cuddling up with you. And some days, it was so real that we used to talk till dawn. We used to watch the sunrise together. October 31st used to come and go by, and we pretended it was just another Halloween and you used to say ‘Moony, you hate Halloween because some people dress up as werewolves, and you don’t get to wear a costume!’—“

I stop saying anything. I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I do. His hand accidently rubs shoulder, and I am suddenly yanked to my happiest memory—Harry’s beautiful hands reaching my jacket—and the ‘someone’ is not just someone who is behind me, rubbing my lower back and laying his head against mine, because it was him. It was Remus Lupin. It is still Remus Lupin, I want him to be.

I cannot tell that I don’t remember him because I am starting to…and it’s a start. He keeps telling me how he spent the last twelve years, so I listen to him because my years were not in an open cage just like his. It was scary to be locked up for years and never to see the people you love, but it must have been even scarier to be free for years and never see the people you love. Remus Lupin has suffered too, and I can’t help but be there for him. 

So as he keeps rambling his stories about his undying love for me, I slip into his space, and wrap my arms around his torso, like I had in the picture, and bury my face into his chest. He is not warmer as he must have been in that picture but it calms me down because his heart is beating against mine, and I am happy to have him alive with me.

Thanks for reading! Stay magical!

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For You

Warnings: vampire, feeding blood, IV, drawing blood, forced drugging, passing out/collapse, blood loss, delirious state of consciousness, hallucination, death thoughts, fever, starvation, pills, forced medication

There was no strength left in their body. No strength to run, no strength to fight, and absolutely no strength to take care of them.

Villain laid on the cool, wooden floor of their bedroom, too weak to do much more than periodically twitch their fingers. Their eyes drifted closed every once in a while, only to open when they remembered that Hero was starving in the bes above them.

Villain rolled over onto their stomach, the motion causing the world to contort and waver into a dizzying pallette of pastel colors. They breathed deeply, gathering their arms underneath them before heaving themself up and into a sitting position.

After about five minutes of sitting there with their eyes squeezed shut, trying not to sway from their taxing position, Villain reached forward and grabbed the IV off the night stand.

"V-villain," Hero murmured. Villain cast them a long glance. Their nemesis was hardly conscious on the bed, starved and heavily drugged. Villain gulped. They didn't want to keep them sedated like this, but they would try to kill Villain otherwise.

"Sorry," Villain slurred, their voice was as fragile as Hero's.

"Mmn," Hero groaned and slightly opened their mouth, awaiting the meal. Villain gave a small nod that nearly caused them to fall back onto the ground. They put a tube into Hero's mouth then inserted the needle into their own wrist.

Within a second, the delirious and greedy vampire started to gulp frantically. Villain's bottom lip trembled as they felt their limited blood supply diminish.

After only thirty seconds, Villain began to feel incredibly light-headed and contemplated whether or not to stop Hero's feeding. But one look at the desperate face made Villain decided on the former- just a minute longer.

"Hmph," Villain gasped as they slumped forward onto the bed, their consciousness wavering. With shaky hands, they clutched the needled and deftly drew it out of their vein before falling completely unconscious.

Villain drifted between sleep and wakefulness for a while, still collapsed on Hero's bed. During their brief stints of consciousness they woule remind themselves of Hero's next dose, but couldn't bring their depleted body to do so.

They feel vaguely feel the awakening Hero stirring under their body. Villain pushed themselves backwards, planning on standing fully up and going about their day, but their body had other plans. They fell back, hitting their back against the ground as the world was submerged in a dark shade of ebony.

"Villain! Open up!"

Villain moaned and tried to peel their eyes open, but they were too heavy.

The voice- it was a voice, they were sure- came again, "Villain. You need help, open the door!"

Villain didn't need help, they were sure of it. Hero did- Hero needed to eat and Villain was able to take care of them. For them.

"For you," Villain whispered, almost like the faintest breeze.

Their fingers curled into the hard ground. They were aware of the floor's cool features, but oddly it felt warm. Too warm.

Villain forced their eyes open and saw a trickle of blood coming out of their veins from where the IV was still attached. They were so certaib that they removed it and seeing it felt like a rock was dropped into their stomach.

Villain tried to reach over and pull it out, but failed, letting out a strangled sob as they tried to call upon their healing powers. Using them made them completely exhausted, but it kept them and Hero alive.

Villain, after a few agonizing seconds of calling their power, finally felt a comforting tingling through their fingers as their body created some blood. It was low in oxygen and lacked all the necessary and vital functions that blood cells carried out, but it did a decent job at feeding Hero.

Villain sighed in relief as the new warmth spread throughout their body, drawing them back into sleep...

Villain woke rather unpleasantly. They were only aware of the heat gathering in their head and the fact that they were cold- oh so cold. They moved their hands about, testing their environment, but was quite confused at the outcome. Wet. They were wet and cold.

Villain cracked open an eye and looked around. White walls with small shelves that held various bottles. Looking down, they saw tiny glaciers floating around a small expanse of artic water.

Suddenly, they tensed, scared and completely convinced that they were indeed trapped in a frigid ocean.

"Shh," came a voice, foggy and distant as if Villain's ears were underwater. Maybe they were, Villain couldn't tell for panic consumed them.

So Villain continued their struggles even as ropes wrapped around their head pulling them against hard surface. A boat. They were going to be crushed by a boat. They kicked and resisted the ropes that tied them so tightly against the imminet danger.

"Let me go!" Villain yelled, pushing away. The ropes let go, cut away by the knives that threatened to slit Villain's throat.

The term "knives" was literal. There wasn't just one silver dagger, but five, all working to free Villain before they decided to end the suffering person themself.

Those knives grabbed Villain's bare chest, right above their heart as they were pulled right back against the boat.

"Villain. You need to calm down. You have a fever, you are safe, okay? So is Hero. Do you hear me? Hero is being taken care of."

Hero... taken care up... Villain allowed their tired body to slump deep into the cold waves as they waited for one to take them to their grave.

But the merciless ropes and knives held them up, keeping them from drowning. Soft tendrils drifted through their hair and for a moment fear enveloped Villain at the thought of a mysterious plant suffocating them.

But, once they decided that the tendrils were kind, they leaned into the gesture, closing their bloodshot eyes as darkness closed around them...

Villain woke up, dazed and confused. They struggled under the thin sheet that covered their pale body, but was too weak to push it off.

Looking around, they noticed that they were in a foreign- possibly dangerous environment. The memories of the night before were foggy like they were swallowed, threwn up, then swallowed again.

But they did remember Hero, sick and starved on Villain's bed.

"Ah your awake," came a tired voice. Villain's gaze shot to the person sitting next to them. It took a moment but...

Supervillain.

Villain flinched and tried to run away, only to get tangled and stuck on the floor. Carpet, not wood.

They weren't in their house.

Villain squirmed, terrified of the all too familiar face. The face that brought tears of pain to many. The face that was probably here to punish Villain for taking care of a hero.

But Supervillain only walked to the other side of the bed, scooped the weak villain up, and laid them prone on the bed.

"Are you too warm?" Supervillain asked, placing their cold hand upon Villain's burning forehead. The cold hand that was going to be the death of Villain...

"Still running a fever..." Supervillain murmured and turned around. Villain barely had time to register the words before they were faced with a small, evil-looking, torture device.

Oh boy did it look simple and the possibilities were endless of what it would do. Villain imagine maybe it had a hidden needle and they would be drugged. They also wondered if it contained a knife- knives were threatening them before, why not do it now?

But nothing prepared them for the way Supervillain clutched Villain's jaw, forcing it open and sticking the device under their tongue.

Nothing prepared them for the lack of pain other that a sharp pinch. Their eyes began to flutter closed. After all, Supervillain wasn't torturing them...

A loud beeeep brought them back around. They stared deep into Supervillain's concerned eyes.

"I'm going to get you some medicine. Okay?" Supervillain laid a hand on Villain's head. "Try to stay awake for me."

Villain swallowed and nodded, small and helpless. Weak and fragile like a thin glass just waiting to break at the slightest touch.

But, despite Supervillain's request, Villain began to doze off only to awake when they felt like they were falling. They kept on forgetting what their half-consious self was dreaming or thinking about after those falls.

"Dang it Villain," Supervillain groaned when they entered the room and saw their colleague's eyes half-rolled into their head as they stared at the ceiling without any real object or reason.

"Come here," Supervillain cooed and gently cupped Villain's chin, opening it, and slipped the medicine into their mouth. They hoped that the sick villain still had some instinctual reflexes as they dumped some water down their throat. Supervillain then went to work on rubbing Villain's throat until they swallowed, taking the tylenol nto their stomach.

"Good job," Supervillain praised. They wiped Villain's sweating brow with a wet cloth while their patient drifted off to sleep. Supervillain did nothing to stop it.

Hero was struggling against the restraints as henchmen pried their mouth open.

"Gosh!" One of them squealed when Hero nipped at their hand. "They got rabies or something? They are wacko."

"They are a vampire you dim-wit," another henchman growled. That same henchman took Hero's mouth with some pliers and held it open long enough for the other to slipped some tablets into their mouth.

The hero swallowed and hissed.

"Okay. Supervillain told me that those will keep their vampire side at bay until they gain some weight," Henchman1, the one got bit said, wiping their nose with their hand.

Hero continued snarling until they exhausted themselves, slipping into sleep. Henchman2, the other, stood up and started to pace.

"Knock that off," Henchman1 snapped, standing up themselves. "You are taking first watch."

"No. You," Henchman2 shoved their friend. "I am not sitting with a freaking vampire. Did you see Villain? Part of me wonders if they were mind controlled."

"I thoroughly assure you that they weren't," Henchman1 rolled their eyes and slipped away from Henchman2. They opened the cell door and left.

Henchman2 walked over to Hero where they laid on a cot, unmoving. But, as if the presence of another was like a stimuli, the hero woke up.

Their eyes this time were not filled with desperate starvation or anger, but of worry.

"Where's Villain?" They asked, looking around. "They are not thinking. It's dangerous... it's..." they trailed off, their gaze meeting Henchman2's. "Are they dead?" They chirped.

"No, but sick and unconscious," Henchman2 replied, relaying the last update. That was about five minutes ago.

"They need my saliva," Hero continued. "To quicken the healing process. I cannot stimulate blood production, but I can share my healing."

"Villain has a healing factor as well and it doesn't seem to work."

"Because they are beyond exhaustion. Pair that will blood loss and starvation themselves, their chances of surviving are low. They need my saliva."

"How do I know this isn't a trick. A way to eat more?"

"I am human now. I need actual food. When the vampire takes over is when I can only consume blood," Hero glanced down at their bony wrists. "Blood satisfies like candy, but it is far from nutrious, but I thank Villain. Truly."

Henchamn2 smiled despite their best effort to remain nonchalant.

"I'm glad you do."

~ not going to edit, so I apologize for any mistakes

[bibislut]

Drink-Addled

Why can't your best friend be your soulmate?

Harry's had too much to drink, that much is clear. So has every other man apparently, because they won't respect Draco's boundaries.

Word count: 1776

--- This work was inspired by @bisexualronaldweasley ---

Read on AO3

Find the rest of my work here

-----------

Harry emerged from the toilets, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. The music thumped loudly around him, shaking the floor as the strobe lights added to the disorientating, heady vibe of the club. He searched the mass of bodies for the last of his friends standing. Hermione, Ron, and Pansy had all retired for the night. Or should he say morning?

Finally, after a minute or two, his gaze landed on a flash of white-silver hair pressed against the wall in the far corner. A broad figure loomed over Draco, speaking into his ear as the Slytherin locked eyes with Harry, flashing them wide in a helpless manner. Harry gritted his teeth, peeved at the amount of self-entitled twats that had ground their desperate bodies against his unwilling friend. Couldn't they take a hint?

He marched through the crowd, narrowly avoiding drinks in his determination. He approached the two steadily, coming up beside them and slinking his arm around Draco’s waist. The broad looked over at him, confused, as Harry pecked the blond's cheek. "Everything alright?"

Draco smiled, placing his hand on Harry’s chest. "Perfect." He mouthed over the music.

The broad shot them both an annoyed look and ambled back into the crowd. Harry dropped his arm as Draco leaned into his ear. "Thanks!" He shouted. Potter shot him a lopsided smile, taking his hand and leading them back out to the dance floor.

The two had been friends for well over a year now, and it was comfortable as they lifted their joined hands above their heads, throwing their heads back and singing along to the music. The two danced the hours away, until the club closed and they found themselves stood on the street, drunken smiles on their faces as they stumbled down the road.

"I can't believe I used to hate you." Harry giggled, his arm linked through Draco’s.

"We were both horrid gits." The blond nodded.

"Oi!"

Draco snorted. "You're gonna act innocent? You-" he jabbed his finger into Harry’s chest, "-were just as guilty as me."

"Stop being right." The darker man grumbled, his hazy gaze landing on a group of people at the end of the street. "Is that..?"

Draco followed his gaze, and cursed. There was his ex and his friends. Panicking, he shoved Harry against the doorway of the nearest shop. "Fuck, shit, bollocks!"

Harry chuckled, his hazy mind cocky with drink. He put his hand on Draco’s face. "Don’t worry, I've got this." He said, pulling him in close. Their lips touched and Draco let out a small gasp. He tasted of mint gum, beer, and the salty sweat of the night. Harry kissed him hard, his arm around his waist. After the initial shock had faded, Draco leant into the kiss, their lips moving together hungrily. They stayed like that for a long moment, bodies pressed together, lips colliding, until the group had walked past. Finally, Draco shoved himself away.

"Oh, Merlin...I…" He trailed off, running his hand through his hair as he stared at Harry, his pink cheeks illuminated by the street light.

"I wish I could have seen his face." Harry chuckled, his drink-addled brain applauding his quick thinking.

“You kissed me!” Draco whisper-shouted.

Harry laughed again. “Was I really that bad?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Come on.” Harry looped his arm through the blond’s and tugged him down the street. They walked in silence for a minute, the darker man completely oblivious to Draco’s frantic thoughts. “Do you wanna stay at mine?”

“At yours?”

“You might as well. It’s closer.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. “Alright.”

They continued on, lips swollen, warm with drink. When they finally reached the flat, Harry dug out a spare set of pajamas and a towel, and left Draco in the spare room. He went through the motions of getting ready for bed, the whole process taking far too long and making him feel nauseous. He downed half a glass of water before climbing into bed and falling into a restless sleep.

Dreams of Draco’s lips chased him relentlessly, only for him to wake up breathless, his legs tangled in the sheets. Each time he woke, he was quickly dragged back under, finding himself once again pressed in the doorway of the shop, pouty pink lips pressed against his. The taste of Draco lingered in his mouth, sweet and bitter all at once.

“Harry.” Dream-Draco mumbled against his lips. The Gryffindor took it as an invitation, diving right back in, pulling him as close as he could.

----

Draco sighed, turning over for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t sleep, his slowly-sobering brain racing around the memory of their kiss. He’d left his school-boy crush behind him long ago, content with their friendship. But all his resolve had come crashing down the moment Harry’s lips touched his. How long had he yearned for this? To finally know what the darker man tasted like, how he felt pressed against him? He groaned into the pillow, his eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall. It was just past 4 in the morning. The kiss had probably meant absolutely nothing to Harry, just another drunken adventure. What was he talking about - probably? He was sure of it.

Draco sighed again, pushing away the covers. He stood up, glancing down at the pajamas that were doing nothing for his sanity. They smelt like Harry, like wood and spice and mint chocolate. He resolved himself to making a cup of tea, padding quietly down the hallway, and stopping just outside his friend’s door. Opening it slowly, he poked his head in.

The Gryffindor was sound asleep, or so Draco thought. Just as he was about to retreat, the other man let out a loud breath, followed by a word: “Draco.”

The blond’s heart stuttered. “Harry?” He whispered. He opened the door further, taking a couple of steps inside. “Harry?” He asked again, louder.

The other man groaned, opening his eyes blearily. “Draco?” He held his hand out and the blond walked forwards to take it. He pulled him in, lifting up the duvet with his other hand. Draco crawled in beside him. “Turn.” Harry grumbled, and he did as he was told, putting his back to him. Apparently, Harry wanted to be big spoon. “Better.” He mumbled, before his breaths quickly fell into a more rhythmic pace.

Draco’s heart was racing, Harry’s body heat behind him only making things worse. They’d never done this before. Never spooned, never even slept in the same bed. He knew it was only because Harry was half asleep, and still probably half drunk, but still his heart was in his throat. Draco listened to his breathing, trying to focus on anything but the growing warmth in his loins. Soon, Harry’s breaths lulled him into a shallow sleep.

-----

Harry woke with a start, letting out a small gasp. His arm was draped over Draco’s waist, his face nestled in his hair. Strangely, he felt almost content, warm and safe, surrounded by Draco’s scent.

What the fuck? Draco was one of his best friends. He hadn’t thought they’d crossed a boundary last night, but his racing heart begged to differ. Harry had never thought of the Slytherin as anything but his friend, though he wasn’t blind to his attributes. Draco was gorgeous, and kind, and made Harry laugh. He even enjoyed their bickering. But why had he pulled him in to bed? Why had he had dreams about them making out? Draco was his friend. Seeing him as something more? He’d never really thought about it.

He hadn’t moved, but he was flustered, and half-hard, and more than a little bit confused. He needed to calm down, cool down. He needed a cold shower. But how could he move? He didn’t want to wake Draco, deal with his questions. He could barely remember pulling him into bed, yet alone why he did it. Oh that’s right, he was too busy dreaming about kissing him. Fuck! What was he gonna do?

He tried to move away as gently and slowly as he could, worried his semi would be too obvious. Maybe Draco was still asleep.

“Harry?”

Maybe not. Harry scrambled away, and Draco turned to face him. He almost looked… hurt. The Gryffindor rubbed at his head, and nodded to the glass on his nightstand. “Can I have that?”

Draco passed it over, looking far too perfect in Harry’s bed. He appeared almost ethereal, the sunlight streaming in through the window illuminating his ruffled white locks, his silver eyes locked on Harry’s throat as he drank. Suddenly, all thoughts of a cold shower went out the window, and all Potter wanted to do was pull him in for a kiss, taste those sweet lips of his.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking.” The blond whispered, and Harry dragged his eyes from his lips up to his eyes to find them watching him sadly.

He looked away with a gulp. “Nothing good.”

Draco leaned towards him, and Harry watched as he put his hand over his. “Last night…”

“Was a mistake.” Harry said quietly, trying to convince himself more than anything else.

“Yes,” Draco agreed, shuffling closer on the bed and using his other hand to grip Harry’s chin, tilting it up towards him. “But I’d make it again,” he whispered, “If only to spend the night in your arms once more.”

Harry could’ve sworn his heart stopped for a moment. He didn’t know what would happen if he kissed Draco, what would happen to their friendship. Hell, he didn’t even know where all these new feelings had come from. All he knew was that it felt right. And if he wanted this, Draco was giving him the opportunity to take it.

He let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t be a sop.”

“Don’t make me a sop, then.” Draco replied lowly, leaning in closer.

This was it. This was the time to back out. But Harry had never been one to back down, and certainly not now, with his stomach full of butterflies for the first time in a long time.

He met Draco’s lips slowly, almost cautiously. He felt so right, and so warm, that Harry let out a little moan, and that’s all it took for Draco to crawl onto his lap, deepening the kiss. Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, their lips crashing together hotly. It felt so good.

As much as Harry could worry about what this would mean for their friendship, it didn’t mean that it had to end. After all, soulmates are best friends first.

[forthehpfanboys]

Nifflers Don't Help

Pair: Remus Lupin x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Remus and (Y/n) have been pining after each other for far too long, but what happens when Lupin finds out through a very specific glasses wearing student that the professor who handles magical creatures likes him back?

Warnings: Suggestive, Lupins Sass, your sass. Remus is probably out of character, Swearing. I swear a lot-

Notes: Requested! I hope this is OK! I kinda ran with the idea of the reader being a teacher at Hogwarts. Hope you like it! Sorry it took so long.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Being the Care For Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts was absolutely the best job you've had in such a long time, like galloping hippogriffs, it was everything you loved! Magical creatures! Teaching! Teaching about how to care and handle said magical creatures! It was literally your dream come true.

It was even better because you got to meet Remus Lupin, a very kind man who worked as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now you'd gotten to know him very well over the past year for obvious reasons. 

And yes, you knew of his.. I wanna say a little but it obviously isn't, problem. Lupin hadn’t necessarily told you, you found out by coming to Hagrid's hut to look over some of the creatures he had while he was doing some secret Dumbledore business and found him cowering in the corner, full werewolf. 

Of course you slammed the door and made a mad scramble toward the castle like a hippogriff after a ferret. Luckily, you did manage to escape his claws and hide away in the castle. But when he found out what happened, he felt so much guilt he came to find you immediately. 

You ended up telling him the full story of what happened the night before, and it took him about 30 minutes to stop apologizing profusely. He'd simply forgotten to take his potion again and didn't mean to cause you any harm. 

You forgave him. How could you not? He was quite literally begging for you to and you did fancy him. In the end, you really couldn't say no and everyone knows werewolves could kill their best friend if they had the chance. It wasn't his fault, really. 

You shook your head away from the memories and smiled across the field at your class. "Alright everyone! That's all I got for today!" you smiled wider when the kids let out a groan of dismay. "Oh, I know! We always have tomorrow, now say goodbye to Goldie!" you held the squirming brownish yellow colored niffler in your hand as all the kids grabbed their books, waved to the tiny adorable mass of furr and said goodbye. 

You couldn't help but keep smiling once everyone left. Today's lesson had ended successfully, as per the usual. Every student loved you!

You were extra kind to students who had fears of certain creatures (Ron) and understanding to students who couldn't always finish the homework because of helping others (Neville) and didn't even put up with one very specific blonde who was lowkey a twat (I don't even have to put his name in for you to know who I'm talking about). 

You paced over to the table you placed outside before class and opened the small case laying on top, checking the inside of it while you held the wiggly creature to your chest.

The case was similar to Scamander's in the sense that the inside was bigger, but not by much. This one case was supposed to store the niffler and the niffler only, so it only had to be so big. The case on the inside had a water bowl, a nice soft makeshift bed for the baby and a few gems and coins all for comfort. 

You placed the little sweetheart into the case and shut it gently, locking it closed. You hummed gently, not hearing the person approaching you from behind. 

"You handle them so well." 

Your cry of shock echoed in the woods around you and you could've sworn your body jumped up at least 6 feet in the air. You basically got whiplash from how fast you turned around, looking at the man standing behind you. 

"The creatures, I mean." Lupin was leaning against one of the trees, a smile on his face as he nodded toward the creature. 

You couldn't help but giggle a little bit and shift your suit tie out of nervous habit. "Oh! Yeah, well, it's kinda needed for the job." you stumbled over your words a little bit, rubbing the back of your neck and avoiding his piercing eyes.

It was obvious to your class, it was obvious to the other professors, just about the entire castle knew about your 'tiny' crush on the professor. 

Everyone knew. 

Literally everyone. Harry, Dumbledore, even Snape. SNAPE KNEW!

But guess who didn't? 

Remus Lupin, the gentleman you'd fallen head over heels from the minute you stepped into the dinning hall. 

If looks could kill, you'd be more than 6 feet under, that's for sure. He was so handsome and kind and his eyes- Godric, his eyes. 

Why would he figure it out, anyway? It isn't like he's a very smart man who literally teaches children how to protect themselves against the darkest of evils known in the wizarding world. 

"Well, yeah, but you have talent. I could tell from when you walked into the dinning hall." Remus stepped forward, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. "Keen eye." he tapped his temple, a side smile on his face. 

"Uhhuh." you nodded your head, taking your own step forward, leaving the bag on the counter. "Sure. Very keen eye." you crossed your arms over your vest covered chest. 

"It's true! I'm very observant-" this caused you to snort. "What?" 

"Yeah, ok!" 

"What? Are you hiding something from me (L/n)?" he stepped closer, his chest almost touching yours. "Should I be concerned?" his smile turned into a lopsided smirk, causing butterflies to make themselves known in your stomach. 

"Oh, no, of course not, Mr. Lupin." you shot him an innocent smile and stood on your tippy toes, only to pop back down onto your heals. "If you haven't noticed it by now, I fear you may never." with that, you turned around and all but strutted to your way to the table, making sure to sway your hips just enough to tease. 

Remus' eyes fought to look away, but in the end his eyes were glued on your bum. The thin man felt his jaw drop to the floor. It was no lie that the professor had a crush on you and, like everything else, the whole damn castle knew.

 Everyone supported you two and it physically pained them to see you act so oblivious to each other and do nothing but flirt, but you were sure it was just playful banter! It had to be. 

"Well, maybe I need some hints to figure it out." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed you to the table, his eyes following your hands as you picked up the case gently.

"I don't think you need hints, I think you need glasses." you turned to him, shaking your head back and forth, tsking at him. "You're keen eyes might be fading." 

Wizard Gods did he love you. He missed being able to banter with James and Lily and this made him feel like.. Well.. Like new. He couldn't help but smile wider and lean against the table, his confidence coming back in a full stride. 

"Ouch! Are you calling me old?" 

"We both know the answer to that." 

"Damn, ok. My pride." He snickered. "But what is the great and adorably luring Mr. (Y/n) (L/n) hiding from me, hmm?" he leaned forward. 

His words caused you to blush and rub the back of your neck. 

"Well, I-I want you to figure it out!" You adjusted the bag, the handle growing uncomfortable as your palms began to sweat. 

"Ooh~ Really? Like a," he paused, scratching his chin with a free hand, "like a game?" he stepped toward you again mindlessly, his hands clasping behind his back. 

You looked at his face and had to do a double take. Were his eyes always that dark? With every step he took, you subconsciously took one back. 

"I-I guess you could say that."

"Interesting. If I get it right, do I get a reward?" 

Before you knew it, your back hit the wood of a tree and his body all but trapped you in place. All of this was causing you to feel dizzy in the best possible way. 

"Su-" you cleared your throat, ignoring the way it cracked and was higher in pitch, "Sure!" 

"Is it an emotional connection?" 

You set the case down haphazardly, almost dropping it. The question only made your palms sweater. "Are you allowed to be asking questions? Besides, shouldn't you know it?" you asked as you wiped your hands on your work pants.

"Maybe I'm asking to see if I'm right before I jump headfirst and embarrass myself." he chuckled lightly, his hands coming up to trap your head between them and all but pin you to the rough bark. 

"Oh.. Well, I.. Yeah, it's emotional." you don't remember losing the ability to talk with authority, but your voice was barely a whisper by the time it came out.

"Aaahh, ok. Here, let me see if I nailed this on the head, shall we?" he paused and moved his wand hand to rest against your hip, causing you to jump ever so slightly. "I think that you," he spoke as his thumb rubbed against the bone of your hip, "fancy me and that you have since you started teaching here." 

You stayed completely still against the tree. You didn't blink, breath, nothing just stared at the man against you as your heart pounded in your ears. 

"What?" 

"Am I wrong? And don't lie, that would be cheating." Lupin leaned in closer, causing your cheeks to erupt a deeper red.

Let's be honest, he didn't figure it out by himself. Harry, bless the little termite, had been kind of joking with the teacher when the confession slipped free. The poor kid was basically stalked by the teacher who kept asking questions for a week before Hermione finally snapped, saying he should go ask the creature handler himself instead of waiting their study time. 

While Remus was fighting the memories and waiting for your response, you were having an inner war with yourself. For example, you were trying to figure out how in good ol' Godric mother fucking Gryffindor he figured it out! You snapped out of it when his other hand came up to cup your cheek. 

"I-I-" 

Lupin smiled wider at your stutter and blush and everything. Harry had been right, bless his soul. That kid was gonna ace his class for this alone. He shook his head, teasing about your shy state and let out a sigh. "Am I wrong?" he asked, figuring it was easier for you to say yes or no to that than say you loved him out in the open. 

Once you arranged the courage, you shook your head no as your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He pushed himself impossibly closer to you, his head leaning down so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

Holy Merlin. Moony wanted to stay like that forever. His hand on your cheek slid  to the back of your neck to keep you there, managing to deepen the kiss even more. 

Your brain actually shut off. 

It took some time for it to reboot, but when it did, oh boy, did you kiss back. You poured all of your emotion and love and passion into it, causing the man to let out a groan. 

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't want you to see the blush on his face or the huge grin spreading across his lips. 

"Should'a done that ages ago." He whispered against your neck, then pressed his lips against the skin resting at the base of your neck. The action caused you to shiver and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Wait, you like me too?" 

Lupin pulled back to stare into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he just kinda.. He just kinda stared at you. 

"Really?" 

"What?" 

"I kissed you and you're worried if I like you back?" 

"W-well, yeah. I'd hate to get the wrong signals." 

Remus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How were you so innocent? Literally how? He kissed you and you can't tell he likes you back? How did you not know?

"Lupin?" Your voice cut him out of the inner dialog. "Are you ok?" 

"Yeah, just bloody curious on how you could be getting the wrong signals when I kissed you." 

"Well I don't wanna assu-" he cut you off by grabbing your shoulders and slamming a kiss against your lips, causing you to actually squeak against his. Your eyes fell shut as your hands absent-mindedly pulled bark off the tree as you kissed back. A whine fell from your lips when he pulled away to speak. 

"(Y/n), you are oblivious and so smart and so attractive that you managed to make me fall for you everyday and you don't even know. That should be a crime. How are you so perfect but you can't see it?" 

You opened your eyes to see him looking at you, holding all of his love for you in his eyes. You quickly broke out in a grin. His words were like the last piece of a puzzle and it fit so perfectly. You let out a laugh and shook your head. 

"I know now, don't I? And besides, you can't talk. I've been sending you signals since I came here and you haven't noticed either." 

"Did you now?" Remus teased, gently reaching up to fix your (tie/glasses). His hand then came back up to your warm cheek. "Then how come the first time I kissed you you didn't catch on? Were you trying to tease another kiss out of me?" 

"Nope! Just watched to make sure I was reading it right." you stuck your tongue out at him like a child, causing him to let out a breathy chuckle. 

"I literally did a romantic thing to show I romantically like you and you're asking if you were reading it right!" 

"Well, yeah! Assuming is a big no-no, Moony." 

"Unbelievable, Fluffy!" he laughed, tossing his head back. You stared at his face in confusion, your cheeks burning a little bit brighter at his laugh. 

"Fluffy? What kind of nickname is that?" 

"Well, you care for creatures and your hair is soft. It fits." 

"Isn't that the name Hangrid gave that dog?" 

"What dog?" 

"Never mind! Besides, It isn't unbelievable! People do weird things all the time!" 

Remus' wiggled his eyebrows at you, loving the way you blushed and stuttered. This only gave him more material to tease you over.

"Is a kiss weird to you?" 

"No b-" 

"So you should've known. How are you so smart but so dumb?" 

"Good question! Let me ask you, Moony! How do you manage to be so hot but so cool?" 

"But that didn't answer my question!" Lupin let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. He shook his head and leaned back into your neck, trailing butterfly soft kisses across the skin. "I'm fact, you just dodged it completely." 

"I-I don't have to answer anything." your Adam's apple bounced as you swallowed thickly. 

His hands went from your hips to the back of your thighs and suddenly he was picking you up, your back still hard against the tree. 

"I think you should do everything I tell you." his voice was deep in your ear, causing you to let out a whine.

"Oh, but I won't." You were trying to act like your face wasn't bright red and blood wasn't rushing south. Stupid werewolf strength and stupid hot man and ug H-

"I might have to do something about this disobedience, then, hmm?" 

Tossing your head back against the tree, you bit your lip to hide back a groan as his teeth gently niped along your Adam's apple. You tilted your head back and let out a sigh as he sucked on the skin. Your  eyes slowly opened and grew wider at the sight above you. 

"Goldie?!" Your mouth hung open as the golden shit looked down at you and tried to scurry up higher, Lupins pocket watch chain hanging from it's pouch. 

"Never called me that one, love. I don't get the reference. You might have to explain it for me." Lupin laughed against your skin, causing goosebumps to spread across it. 

"What? No, Lupin, the niffler!" 

"Shouldn't it should be in the-"

"She's in the tree!" 

"What?" he pulled away from your neck and looked up. "Oh.. You're gonna have to grab him, aren't you?" 

"Her, and yes." 

"And I'm gonna help?" 

"Yup." 

"Which means we can't snog anymore, right?" he shot you a smirk, trying to be playful while you were losing your mind. 

"Remus! She has your watch!" Your voice held bite, which he'd never heard before. It was hot. He found himself licking his lips, wanting to just grind into you, but the smack to his chest pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ok! I got the hint!" 

The grown man whined and set you back down, giving you a look of disappointment mixed with child grumpiness. He watched your ass as you rolled up your sleeves and climbed up the tree with little struggle. 

"... Did we just get cock-blocked by a niffler?" 

"Don't use that language in front of the baby, Lupin! She's just a young thing!" 

"First of all, she can't understand us." he looked up at you, admiring your legs. "And second, If it's our baby, someone has some explaining to do." 

"Lupin, just climb the damn tree and grab the baby." you plucked a pine cone off a branch and hurled it at the brunettes head with accuracy that scared him. 

"Ouch! Alright! Alright. Jeez, I didn't know you could be so pushy." He took off his suit jacket and laid it across one of the lower branches before rolling up his sleeves and following you up the tree. 

"Yuck." 

"What now?" 

"I touched sap. It's gross." 

"I'll push you right off that branch if you don't take this seriously! Grab him-!"

"Her, (L/n.)" 

"Do no-. Don't. Don't even do that." 

"Love you too, (L/n)." 

[asphalt-cocktail]

Finding my way back

Summary: Nearly a decade after you and John break up you manage to find your way back to him.

A/N: Hello my dears! So I wrote this for Beatle and Queen secret santa exchange! Apologies it’s not heavily Christmas/holiday themed; it does take place during winter so I hope that counts for something. I hope you enjoy your fic as much as i enjoyed writing it @sweetrosetta-martin​! I wrote this after I heard the song Green Papaya by Lianne La Havas which makes me feel some type of way. Also shout out to @casafrass​ and @moodysunflowergirl​ for putting this together! Thank you for all your hard work and organization for this! 

Pairing: John Lennon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Okay friends, we’ve got a bit of everything in here! It’s got some mild illusions to smut and steamy smooches, some angst, some fluff, pinning, longing, break ups, cigarettes, alcohol (I think), swearing, we’ve got Teddy boy!John and 70s!John. But no actual smut. 

Word Count: 5.4k

Your heart ached in your chest as you sat in front of John, “What do you mean we can’t see each other anymore?” Your voice cracked with emotion.

John watched your watery eyes from behind his glasses and let out a deep sigh, “I’m going to be touring a lot and Brian wants us to move to London, so I just…” His own voice cracked with emotion, “So I just don’t think we should keep seeing each other.” He looked away unable to maintain eye contact with you.

“But we survived Germany!” You protested back, “It will be okay, I can visit you when you have shows nearby,” You wanted this to work, being with John felt like home. You sniffed, “You know like wait backstage with flowers and everything.” You said and began to rub your stinging eyes.

You were right, the two of you had survived Germany, but it was only because it lasted a few short months and your relationship was open out of respect for the two of you; John didn’t know how long this Beatles thing was going to last and from the looks of it, it was going to last quite a while. John rubbed the tears from behind his glasses, smudging his finger along the lenses and clouding the vision of your perfect face. He squeezed your hand tightly in his own, “It’ll be fine I promise,” He said pausing to kiss your knuckles, “I love you [Y/N] I really do, and if it’s meant to be we will be together again.” He gave you one last chaste kiss; your faces were wet from tear and it was sad and short lived. You embraced him tightly inhaling the scent of cigarettes, mint gun, and a smell that was so distinctly John before finally letting him go to part ways.

The two of you exchanged letters for the first few months of his first tour, but at this point it has been so long that you didn’t remember who stopped writing who and honestly, why did it matter? John was constantly an aching thought in the back of your mind, and you had constant reminders of him from posters to news articles, to full size cardboard cut outs that sat in record stores. It seemed everywhere you turned you saw him which only increased the yearning.

It took several months but you finally found yourself back in a routine that didn’t include John, it was almost like when he went to Germany except this time he wasn’t coming back for good. You finished up school, found a job working in marketing, and had several shitty boyfriends before you found yourself in New York city working in the marketing division of a fashion brand and met Noah. He was nice, but he wasn’t John.

He didn’t smoke cigarettes, or wear glasses, and couldn’t understand art. But he was here, and the sex was pretty okay.

Noah was nice and he made you a pot of coffee every morning he slept over and didn’t try to pry too far into your personal life. All around you didn’t have any qualms with him; it just didn’t feel complete.

The scent of freshly roasted coffee drifted through your home as you woke up with your alarm clock blaring in your ears. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and rolled out of bed. Noah was busying himself in the kitchen, you should just ask him to move in at this point. “Did you get the paper?” You asked sitting down at the table.

“On the counter, love.” He answered before grabbing it and sliding it across the table towards you. Much to your surprise in big bold letters on the front page “PAUL SPLITS THE BEATLES” were plastered across it. Naturally a picture of the doe-eyed man you once called a friend accompanied it as well as a smaller picture of the group.

“Fucking Christ.” You mumbled to yourself and turned the page, hoping to find something else to read, some couple getting married or some advice column, but no, your eyes continued to draw themselves back to the fab four and specifically John. He looked wildly different now; long hair, glasses, eccentric wardrobe all made him look almost unfamiliar

You finally gave in and read the article; from what you observed in the news and on television tensions were high between the four and it seemed as though fame had gotten the best of them, “Crazy, right?” Noah asked handing you a cup of coffee, “Who would have thought? It looked like they were going to be together forever. But get your riches and split I guess, yeah?”

A sour feeling filled your belly, John and Paul cared more about the Beatles than Noah could ever know. The idea of get rich and dip was ridiculous, wasn’t it? “I don’t think that is the case.” You mumbled before abruptly getting up to get ready for work, forgetting your morning coffee.

It had been almost a decade since you had last seen John, and a lot could have changed. He was no longer the tough teddy boy you had grown to love. His hair had grown out and he was with Yoko Ono now, from the looks of if they were essentially attached at the hip. A part of you hoped you and Noah would never achieve that level of need in your relationship.

Unfortunately, as months passed there seemed to be no other way to progress your and Noah’s relationship and one day he slept over and never left. You no longer had your own space to escape to or much alone time aside from when Noah came home an hour after you from work. You felt throttled and frankly didn’t like it, nor did you like Noah much anymore. It seemed like the right step though, after three years of dating; you could tell Noah craved monogamy.  

Your day at work was long and exhausting. All you could think of was your hour of peace and quiet before Noah came home and talked about his boring life at work. If you had to use a color to describe your life it would be grey, dull, boring, no vibrancy or excitement.

New York was full of bright vibrant colors and never slept; it was much livelier that than the cloudy northern United Kingdom city you once called home, but in the small apartment that you lived in there was constant monotony. Waking up, making coffee, going to work, coming home, reading and making dinner, going to sleep; only to repeat that for five days in a row and then sit around the house during the weekend, or leave to get groceries if you were lucky. If you were unlucky, Noah’s accountant friends would come over and talk your ear off about their corporate work life you just couldn’t wrap your head around.

Your mind was swimming with thoughts, mostly about your stagnant life as you navigated your way off the subway once you reached your stop and walked off. It was loud and cramped as everyone flooded off; you kept your head low and pushed your way through the crowd. A firm, but boney shoulder pushed into you causing your thoughts to flee and your brows furrowed as you looked up, “Watch it, asshole.” You mumbled under your breath and looked up before you froze.

Your eyes locked with a pair of eyes that were all too familiar and all the breath in your body seemed to leave, “[Y/N]?” John asked you, seemingly just as shocked as you were.

Despite being in the subway station the world around you stopped. A few sputtering words came out to form an incoherent sentence as you were consumed with shock. Your body became ridged and you sharply exhaled before turning and continuing your short jaunt home.

That night you laid on your side and your mind was consumed with so many thoughts, mostly John if you were being honest. You’d thought you had long since blocked the ghost from your memory, but it appeared that seeing him caused a number of memories to rouse from the depths of your consciousness. You hated it. John Lennon was once again living in your head rent free.

Noah gripped your side and kissed along your shoulders and neck while his hand rubbed your hips and slowly began to wander upwards towards your breasts. The sudden touch caused you to jump, “Not tonight,” You mumbled trying to sound tired.

Noah let out a soft sigh before giving your shoulder one last kiss, “Sorry, you had a long day, love.” He said pulling you close against him and resting his head on your shoulder. As you pretended to sleep you laid in your bed and stared at the wall of darkness in your room.

When the hell did John come to New York?

Did he live nearby?

Was Yoko with him?

Questions swirled around in your mind; questions that would not get answered unless you actively sought out an answer.

As sleep consumed you, you dreamt of John.

The Reeperbahn had a smell you would never forget. You didn’t know cities could have distinct smells until you traveled to Germany to visit John for the first time since he had left Liverpool. It was a combination of pollution, beer, and a smell you had hoped to never figure out what caused it. From his letters this place seemed larger than life, and when you took your first steps off the train you saw it was.

John tackled you with a warm hug, he smelled like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, “You stink.” You grinned and laughed as he kissed your face all over.

“Our options are kind of limited, love.” He grinned and wrapped his arm around your waist keeping you close to him as the two of you walked down the busy street.

He took you to a restaurant, you honestly hadn’t expected him to take you on a date especially with where you were and how little money he had. “Come on, I’ve got a show in two hours,” He grinned, excited to have you watch him play.

“And then we met this group of Germans, they’ll be at the show tonight. I know you’ll love them.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, “Stu is going with one of them, Astrid. She’s great too, her ma lets us shower at her place and makes us dinner sometimes.” You soaked in all the stories John had to share.

His life seemed so exciting here in Germany, but you could see how exhausted he was beginning to get, “You’ve got to hear how we sound now, Pete’s still shit, but Paul, George and I are really getting better.” He shifted in his seat and poked at his food, “I don’t know if Stu is going to stick with us much longer though; he’s been talking about going back to art school.”

That night you and John slept cramped together in his little bunk bed in the back room. You woke up to him rubbing your arm with the tips of his calloused fingers and he kissed your shoulder.

Rolling over you captured his lips in a soft kiss, he tasted of beer and cigarettes and he clung to you, holding you so close it almost hurt. Breaking the kiss, he began to pepper soft kisses along your jaw and neck, “I love you so much,” He said between heavy breaths.

“I love you too John.” You responded letting out a soft whimper as his fingers began to rub you through the cloth short wore to sleep.

With a gasp you shot up in bed, coated in a layer of sweat and looked around the still dark room, wide eyed. Noah rubbed his sleepy eyes as he woke up, “What’s wrong, hun?” He asked.

You gained control of your breathing once more and laid back down, still uncomfortably sweaty; “Nothing, just a nightmare.” You answered and swallowed thickly.

---

For weeks, John plagued your mind and you were starting to convince yourself that you hadn’t truly seen him and that you were just going crazy. Your sleep was becoming more and more restless as time went on. It got so noticeable that even Noah questioned it.

“Take some time off, hun, you work too much.” He said.

So that was what you did. You finally had a week off after what felt like ages.

It was nice, but you were barely half a day into your vacation, and you began to feel restless. What could you possibly do to fill your time?

Your mind began to wander and drift off to thoughts of John; a wave of nausea immediately washed over you. “I need to leave.” You abruptly said and grabbed your purse and house keys before leaving your flat.

You soon found yourself at Central Park. Despite it being autumn, the weather was nice, the kind of nice where you look outside, and it seems warmer than it is. The breeze was soft but brisk you walked through the park enjoying the breath of fresh air. As you walked through the running paths you admired the changing leaves and the crunching sound they made under your feet.

You eyed a bench that overlooked The Lake, so cleverly named, and brushed the fallen leaves that covered it before you sat down. For once you felt like your mind was free from worry and the anxieties that had been consuming you the last several weeks.

That was until you got up and saw a familiar figure walking down the path that would directly cause yours. A shot of adrenaline shot through you and your heart began to race. It was as though your fight or flight responses had kicked in and they were telling you to get the fuck out of there. You frantically looked around and it felt like a lose-lose situation with whatever option you chose. So, you stayed; how bad was it going to be? Maybe he wouldn’t even notice?

John walked past your little out cove and glanced at you and then looked again, “Fucking hell.” He mumbled stopping in his tracks.

The two of you stood frozen, staring at each other for what seemed like a lifetime before John finally broke the silence, “I thought I saw you at the subway station.” He said bluntly, his familiar voice causing a warm feeling to erupt in your belly and spread to the tips of your fingers.

You opened your mouth and closed it, trying to think of something to say, “You did.” Was what you finally spoke.

“Right,” He sighed, looking down in defeat.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets and shifted the weight on your feet, “Do you want to sit?” You asked abruptly.

John looked at you through his round lenses and nodded, “Sure, I could sit for a while.” He answered.

The two of you sat across from each other on your respective benches, “So, how long have you lived here for?” John asked watching you nervously pick at your fingers.

You looked up from your hands, “About 6 years now.” You leaned back, now feeling confident enough to study his features. His face was thinner, age lines had begun to map themselves out on his face, and his hair was messily layered and framed the sides of his face nicely. He was still as handsome as ever, “How long have you lived here for?”

John cleared his throat and pulled out his cigarettes, placing one in his mouth, “About two years now,” the conversation was weird, like the two of you didn’t know what to talk about. You watched as John’s long fingers light his cigarette, the spicy smell filling the space between the two of you and the smoke delicately curling up towards the sky, “So do you work near by or something?” He asked casually crossing his legs and resting his arm on the back of the bench.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t I just needed to get out of the house.” You said, staring at the reason you felt urged to leave your home in the first place, “I only live about six blocks away. It’s a nice walk.” You added, your stomach suddenly feeling sour as you remembered Noah.

John hummed, inhaling deeply on the cigarette the ember burning a bright red before dimming ever so slightly, “Do you work at all?” His tone came off ruder than expected, but you knew he didn’t intend for it to.

“Marketing.” You answered simply. Your brain swam with question you had for your former lover, “Do you live nearby?” You asked returning the question back to him.

John nodded behind him, “The Dakotas.” He mimicked your shortness. You looked and could see the large building peaking out from the tops of the trees.

You hummed, “Must be nice.” You said flashing him a closed mouth smile.

“It is.” He added and stood up, taking one last deep inhale before stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette in the snow and putting it in his pocket, “You look good, you know.” He said, his eyes studying your seated form before settling on your face.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious and very aware of your existence you crossed pulled your winter coat tighter around you, “So do you John.” You responded, “You’ll have to show me your place sometime.” You boldly suggested.

John flashed you a crooked smile before fishing around in his pocket, “Call me and I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.” He said before handing you a business card. Of course, he had business cards.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you took the thick and expensive paper and pocketed it, “I’ll have my people call your people.” You allowed a smile to break your nervous features.

That night your mind saw no peace. You sat in the bathroom staring at the business card in your hand. It was nearly 3 am and the delicate gold letters reflected in the shitty florescent lights that made your eyes ache as you repeatedly read the phone number and name.

The rest of your vacation it seemed as though you were not going to get the mental break you so desperately craved. You watched as Noah left for work and felt a pang of guilt rising in your chest; a pice of you felt greedy for wanting to see John again. So, you figured it would be best to tuck it away in the back of your mind to the place where your other thoughts of John lived and put the card away in a shoe box and tried to forget.

---

Forgetting about your interaction with John seemed to work well, that is until you and Noah broke up.

He stood in the doorway with the boxes of his things. You could tell he didn’t feel great, and neither did you. But a piece of you felt thankful that he was finally moving out. After seeing John your body craved the spontaneity that he used to give you, and the spontaneity that Noah had lacked.

Once the last of his things were moved from your apartment you felt as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt good, like a breath of fresh air. You busied yourself by rearranging your home and filling the empty spaces that Noah left after he and his belongings vacated your space.

As you moved your shoe boxes and rearranged your closet a business card slipped from the tear in one of them. It was the one that John had given you only a few months ago.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the intricate gold letters you familiarized yourself with that night that seemed so long ago. You looked at the clock, it was only 4 PM and you had hoped he wasn’t busy.

You curled up on your couch and held the phone receiver against your ear listening to it ring as you absentmindedly played with the stiff card in your hand.

“Hello?” You instantly recognized John’s voice.

“John?” You responded back, “It’s, um, it’s [Y/N]” You felt a surge of nerves pulse through you.

“You know, I expected you to call sooner.” John skipped the formal greetings.

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose nerves got the best of me.” It wasn’t a whole truth, but a half truth, “Do you think you’d be interested in showing me your place sometime?” you asked remembering back to the conversation the two of you had several months prior.

John hummed and you could hear the soft rustle of paper in the background before he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I suppose I could fit you in. Did you want to stay for dinner?”

Your heart thudded in your chest, “Dinner?” You question out loud and let out a puff of air, “Yeah, I suppose I could.”

“Right, so 6 o’clock sound good?” John asked, “I can send a car for you.”

“A car?” You asked, not accustom to the luxuries of being a Beatle, “I can walk it’ll be fine.”

John let out a sigh, “It’s freezing outside and nearly pitch black. You aren’t walking.” He said firmly.

“Fine.” You answered in defeat and gave him your address to send the car.

“Right, be ready by 5:30.” He said  

“Shit, okay.” You said before bidding him farewell and scrambling to get ready. The sleek black car arrived and drove you to the Dakotas. It was nice, far nicer than any building you had ever been in before. The driver walked you up to John’s apartment and let you in.

The room was decorated in a hodgepodge of John’s interests, from music to art to antiques; with everything tastefully on display. John walked out, dressed casually in a shirt, jeans, and no shoes and drank in your figure as you stripped off your jacket. You shifted nervously under his intense gaze, “So, you wanted a tour, yeah?” John asked.

You nodded and watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, admiring how his biceps flexed and bulged when his hands rested in position, “Yeah, a tour.” You said secretly hoping this would amount to much more than a tour.

John stretched his arms out, “Well welcome to my humble home.” He greeted in a grandiose manor.

Humble, right.

John’s home was more extravagant than you could have imagined. It was much better than the apartment he lived in with Stu or the back room they had in Hamburg and even better than when he lived with Mimi. He had several cats that roamed around his home; it made you smile and remember the time he brought a stray home and convinced Mimi to keep him. It seemed as though old habits died hard when it came to John.

The two of you made your way back to his living room and he sat down on his couch, “Come on, sit.” He said patting the spot next to him.

“Oh,” You abruptly said, not noticing you had been standing in the middle of the room studying the various things on the wall, “Right.” You quickly sat on the couch uncomfortably stiff, “So… dinner?” You asked.

John nodded his head, not having forgotten the food and pulled out a box of take out menus, “Do you want to order something, I haven’t gotten much for groceries this week.” He admitted sheepishly.

You rifled through the various menus in his collection, “So,” You started, “Where is Yoko?” You asked honestly wondering where his other half was.

“We’re separated right now.” He said sounding uncomfortable.

You glanced over at John and noted his somber expression, this was obviously a topic he didn’t want to talk about. “Sorry to pry.” You said before sliding him the menu of one of your favorite Chinese restaurants in the area.

“It’s a valid question.” He stated, now intently focused on the menu, “What about you?” He asked, peaking up to glance at you before quickly looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, your love life and what not.” He followed up quickly.

You shifted uncomfortably, “Oh, well my ex just moved out today.”

John arched one of his thick brows, “Hm,” He grunted, “Nice lad?” He questioned.

You shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose. Just boring.” You answered thinking back to the stale and stagnant version of your life that was your reality only a week ago.

John watched you frown in distain before he got up to place your orders, “What did you want again?” He asked.

“The number 23 dinner special with an eggroll.” You had your order memorized.

As John placed the order on his telephone, you listened to the sound of his muffled voice and leaned back on the couch. It was interesting how despite not seeing each other for nearly a decade, you still found your way back to him. One of his cats climbed their way on your lap and purred as you scratched behind its ears.

“She likes you.” John said as he walked back into the room, “Food should be here in 45 minutes.” He said plopping back down. The black cat nuzzled its head into your head and let out a soft meow.

“What’s her name?” You asked enjoying the attention your newfound friend was giving you.

“Salt.” He said, a smile cracking his features.

“Salt?” You asked letting out a small huff of laughter.

“Her sister, Pepper is somewhere around here.” He said reaching over and petting Salt, scratching her behind the ears.

Your 45 minutes with John was spent chatting and catching up, he talked about Mimi and told you that she asked about you often and he never knew how to respond, and you talked to him about how you finished college and began your marketing job.

It was interesting how the two of you were able to smooth over the awkwardness of your conversation in just a few short hours, unlike your previous run ins. The familiar warm feeling you would get every time you’d talk to him quickly returned. When your food arrived the doorman from the front of the building brought it up and the two of you laid out your spread on the coffee table.

John walked over to a shelf of movies and pulled one out. He turned towards you, flashing you the box. It didn’t surprise you when he showed you Clockwork Orange. It was a very John movie, “Want to watch it?” He asked smiling softly.

You nodded your head, “Pop it in.” You said waving your hand towards his television.

The movie played in the background as the two of you continued to talk and eat your takeaway, “How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m fine, how are you?” He responded a confused expression plastered on his face.

You shook your head, “No, John I really mean it; how are you?” You said giving him a sympathetic expression.

Putting his chopsticks down, John sighed, “I don’t know.” He pursed his lips deep in thought, “I mean I suppose I’ve been better.” He answered honestly, “I mean, my wife left me, my friends I’ve known for the last two decades don’t really want much to do with me.” John shrugged his should and looked away from you.

You nodded your head reaching over and grabbing his hand, rubbing it with your thumb before you patted it lightly and pulled it away. John chased your hand with his own and laced his fingers with yours. The rough underside of his palm brushed against your soft ones. The contrasting touch made you shiver, “I missed you.” He said and squeezed your hand.

John brought your hand to the side of his face and pressed your palm to his cheek, leaning into the warmth of your hand, “I missed you too.” You said as you thumb stroked his cheek bone. He turned his face and kissed your skin.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and the feeling of John’s lips burned into your palm. You watched him, his eyes closed and a calm expression taking over his tense body. Slowly you slid closer to him, closing what little space was between the two of you, “John,” You said breaking the soft silence that had settled between the two of you. He hummed and looked up at you urging you to continue, “You know what you told me when we broke up?”

John looked down, you could tell that the topic hurt him as much as it hurt you, “If it’s meant to be, we’ll find each other.” He said softly now looking at your fingers as he played with them.

In this moment he just looked like John, you’re John you had last seen nearly a decade ago. You pulled your fingers away from him and cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. Hesitantly you moved closer to him, feeling the warmth of John’s body radiating off him. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your noses touched, lightly brushing against each other.

A soft whimper manifested itself in the back of your throat and trickled out when you felt John press his lips against yours. He pulled your close against his chest and held you against him tightly craving your warmth and body. Your mouths moved with a familiar synchronicity, so familiar it caused your stomach to ache as you frantically clung to John. Your hand managed to fall from his face and tangle itself in his shirt as you tried to pull him closer.

The way your nose bumped against his glasses reminded you of when you were 18 and sneaking into Mimi’s house, giggling as he told you to quiet down while the two of you kissed. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

John pulled away and left open mouth kisses on your chin and jaw and finally on your kiss. He immediately went to his favorite spot placing a wet open-mouthed kiss on it. You gasped at the feeling and craned your neck urging him for more.

Which he gladly gave you, pulling more sweet sounds from your mouth. He pulled back and studied your face through hooded eyes. John’s hand came up and he stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand. His touch was light and the back of his hand soft. You let out a sigh and leaned into his touch before looking back at him.

You laid back and pulled John against your chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his head into you, “I’m sorry for what’s happened John,” You said and admired the weight of his body against yours.

John rubbed his face into your chest and didn’t look at you, “Stay the night, please.” He pleaded with you.

You rubbed his back as he clung to you, your heart ached hearing the loneliness in his voice, “Of course.” You said and kissed the top of his hair. John hummed with content feeling your fingers tracing patterns against his back.

The following morning you woke up next to John, his arm firmly wrapped around you and hair buried in the back of your neck. You turned around and wrapped your free arm him while your other remained pinned on your side. John let out a soft sigh and pulled you close against his chest and kissed the top of your head. You’d forgotten how much you missed and craved affection. You moved to leave, and John pulled you back, “Don’t leave me,” He said softly.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You said smiling and turning towards John.

He let out a playful groan, “Fine.” He said rolling over and sprawling out on his bed like a starfish.

When you returned John was still in the same position, you’d left him in. As you crawled back into the bed John’s arms slithered around you like a snake and pulled you into his chest. You inhaled deeply, missing his smell and smiled against the thin shirt he wore to bed.

In just a short amount of time the life that had once felt so grey and strange was now beginning to once again feel like home.

[1oserjk]

— full stop | 04 

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.  

a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

+ this isn’t a big update, it wasn’t even supposed to be a main part since i wrote this today n it’s literally 2k n i was going to put this in memories n moments but since this an event that had just happened a day later .. sry i’m putting it with the chronological list bc smthg happens at the end.

this is also the jk i talk about bc i cant get him out of my head, frankly

03 ⇋ 05

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

full stop | 04: over the fence

Shutting the car door after helping Yeona out, you skeptically glance at her before asking, “Do you need any help?”

Her head stubbornly shakes in between the colored plastic wrap of the flowers and the wide poster she holds close to her chest and a determined pout set on her lips. “No Mommy! I’m okay,” she says, even when she stumbles slightly on the sidewalk’s pavement. 

Your fingers ghost against her back just in case, observing her nervously before you both reach the entrance of the studio. “Alright. Just be careful, okay?”

The plastic and paper rustle and it simply tells you she’s nodding back. 

You reach for the door and nudge her in the right direction, finally setting your eyes forward and at the front desk where Seol is sat at. “Hi, miss!” Yeona greets, voice muffled and fully unaware of who exactly the person was behind the desk. She’s seen her a few times when you both visited through the years, but not enough to be introduced as Jungkook’s new girlfriend — which has only happened recently. 

And as if that was even a thing to her yet. 

Seol’s eyes widen before timidly waving at your daughter.

You offer a curt smile and a short greeting before asking, “Is Jungkook busy?” 

She doesn’t seem as surprised by your sudden visit, clearly aware of the date on the calendar set out and taped down in front of her as she offers a polite smile back. “I can check for you.”

Her pointer lands on a specific paper, dragging down towards the time slots until it reaches a point. She looks back up. “He’s free for the next thirty minutes before his lunch break.”

Gently patting your hands on Yeona’s shoulder, you begin walking forward, pushing at the small gate that separates the employees from the clients and out of Yeona’s way when she walks through it. 

“Thank you, miss!” She throws out, rushing towards his office without even waiting for a reply back. 

“Careful, baby,” you remind, wincing at some of the reflective glitter that falls onto the black flooring. 

She simply ignores it, greedy hands reaching for the doorknob, unfortunately too short and weak to properly turn it. With her struggling like this, you’re a hundred percent sure Jungkook can hear the wiggling and disruptive noises from the opposite side of the door. 

It only reminds you to work on her patience some more when you get back home. 

Finally reaching her, you’re the one to open the door and allow her to rush in with the abundance of gifts she’s been too excited to get the past few weeks. 

“Daddy!” Yeona squeals, finding him already standing up, most likely preparing to confront the ruckus that was happening behind the door a few moments ago. 

With wide eyes behind the lenses he wears today, he immediately crouches down and accepts the ecstatic little girl that sprints towards him. 

You stay close by the door after gently closing it. 

“Yeonie,” he chuckles after the embrace, fingers supporting the back of her head as he envelopes her further into his chest. 

Yeona gasps, wiggling away all of a sudden. “Your gifts — You’re crushing them!” 

“Ah,” he sheepishly replies then apologises soon after. “You got me something?”

Yeona eagerly nods. “It’s Daddy’s Day, remember?” 

He holds a blank expression and you’re already assuming he has forgotten all about today and that it was just another work day with his schedule full as it always was. “Oh,” he realizes. “It is, huh.”

At this point, it doesn’t even come as a surprise with how little Jungkook truly thought about himself. It reads well when you take a solid look around at the place, his corner lamp turned on and dozens of notebooks stacked up on the table beside his tiny sofa in the corner. 

Thankfully, most of his clients don’t go through this way and only reserve the open space in the minimalistic studio, where the divided black curtains are the only thing that separates them from the rest of the shop. This was just a place to plan and clutter most of Jungkook’s things before the next person would show up again, maybe even squeeze in a nap when it was needed. 

His eyes finally meet yours and his lips quirk up with a certain gratefulness that fills up his eyes, and you send him a small nod. 

Though, your short interaction suddenly gets disrupted when flowers get shoved at his face. 

It’s too difficult to hold back a small laugh when he flinches, an eye squeezed shut as the thin veil of plastic comes dangerously close. “We got you flowers!”

“O-Oh,” he coughs out when he drowns in the scent of them, “Thank you, sweetheart.” When he can finally make a grab at them, he takes a look at the kind and softens at the sight. “Tiger Lily’s.” 

“Mommy said they’re your favorite,” Yeona enthusiastically explains before pausing to double-check, “They are, aren’t they?” Her doe eyes search for his, head coming closer to observe the flowers with him. 

He nods and pecks her cheek to reassure. “They are and I love them. I think I’ll draw some of them later.” He directs his eyes at you when he says, “Thank you.” 

You quickly turn away, eyeing the sketches to the left of you, exactly where his messy desk is. 

“And this is my card for you!” 

She holds it up and even more glitter falls to the floor, but he doesn’t even seem fazed by it, eyes brightening at his little girl’s artwork. 

She impatiently hops and the writing seems to be hard to read when he squints through his glasses. You slowly walk over to the both of them and hold onto Yeona’s shoulders again to make her stay still. “Baby,” you warn. “He can’t even read it with you shaking like this.” 

She sheepishly smiles and giggles, looking up at you. “Sorry Mommy. Too excited.”

You hum and find Jungkook silent through all of this, eyes glassy from her small fingertips that are seen all throughout the poster. Knees bending, you hold her close as you both watch over him silently. He’s touched, and it shows when he chokes up a little and hides it with a lame cough. 

Yeona eyes him worriedly, whirling towards you unsurely before you shush her with a small nod, silently letting her know that it was all okay. “Happy tears,” you whisper to her, your own eyes glossing over slightly. “He’s okay.”

“Daddy,” she timidly calls, “Do you like it?”

He looks up and nods with a smile, arms stretching out so that she can fall back into them, “I do, baby. I love it — I always love the stuff you make for me.”

She giggles into his neck and grapples on tighter. 

They exchange kisses and hugs for a few more minutes and you’ve luckily snapped a few photos to send to Jungkook’s mother when you would get home. 

When your knees give in eventually, you stand up, mindlessly folding a few of the blankets that were messily sprawled out onto his daybed just to keep your hands busy. 

Jungkook notices. 

“Uncle Jimin and Tae have been saving up some candy for the next time you would come over,” he whispers and offers to Yeona, “Want to go visit them for a minute?”

She eagerly nods, already squirming out of his arms and rushing out of the room. You barely even have the opportunity to yell at her to knock before going into any of their offices and not to disrupt if they had a client over. 

“_____.”

Your head tips at your name only to find Jungkook with a fond smile. He scratches at the back of his head before standing up and thanking you again.

You nod with an awkward smile of your own and explain further, “Yeona had been keen on visiting. Sorry if you had other plans.” 

He shakes his head rapidly to decline. “N-No, I didn’t.” Holding up the poster, he glances at it again. “I really needed this..” 

You nod thoughtfully. “I’m glad we came by at the right time then.” 

He nods and it continues to stay silent for a while. “What are you doing after this?” He suddenly asks, “M-My lunch.. It’s—“ 

“I’m probably going back home to call up my dad,” you quickly turn down and excuse, fingers playing with themselves. 

“Oh.” 

“But you’re welcome to take Yeona out,” you offer. “It’s your day after all.” But you grow weary at the thought of Seol tagging along for it. It’s why your fingers suddenly stop and land by your sides to curl against the material of your jeans. 

“I would,” he starts, “But I have one last client visiting right after and I’m not sure Yeona would be patient to stay here for it. It’ll take a few hours..” 

“Oh.”

“But I can visit when I’m done here?” He rushes. 

You rub your arms at the brisk air that suddenly travels downwards and you blame the air conditioning he always puts at too much of a low temperature. You’ve scolded him so many times for it, completely sure he’d get a cold one of these days for being so careless. If you were to call for it, the discourse would go on and on as if it was only a few years back and you were suddenly married again. He would reason he sweats too much and you would go on to say that it was from his heavy and bulky clothes he refuses to switch up every other season. 

“That’s—yeah, that’s great,” you weakly smile, completely erasing the foreboding thought before it would turn into a reminiscent den full of memories just like it. 

You would have turned him down. You should have, but it would hurt you even more if he would be left alone for the rest of the day, which is why you offer something Hyejin would smack you for the next playdate you planned for the kids, “I can cook dinner.”

His head shakes. “You don’t have to..”

“No, it’s okay. Just come by when you’re finished, okay? That way you can spend time with her properly.”

He doesn’t decline. “Thank you..” 

You step away before turning back and grabbing your belongings. “Happy Father’s Day, Jungkook. You should call up your dad and tell him the same,” you can’t help but add, but when you lift your head towards him, he seems thankful for the reminder. 

“I will,” he affirms, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo bottoms. You notice for a short while how good he looks like this. Hair washed without styling as if he just rolled around before waking up from a nap and the specks he wears every now and then like he had just thrown them on before getting up. And knowing Jungkook well — that’s probably the case. “I’ll see you later?” 

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Yeah.”

The door opens and you bite at your tongue, though it fails when you can’t help but call for him again with a small laugh weighing at the tip of your tongue, eyes pinned down at his bottom half. 

“Hm?”

“Your shirt.. There’s glitter all over it.”

Looking down, he immediately notices and curses, beginning to brush off the stubborn flakes that reflect all over his black short-sleeve. 

You shut the door before he can really say anything, and you quickly search for your daughter and her chocolate-smeared mouth you can already predict. 

-

Seol hums from her seat beside Jungkook and smiles at him. “Lunch was fun.”

Jungkook’s too focused on the sketch below him, a few of the lilies taken and laid out. He thinks he’ll be able to finish tonight and give it to Yeona after dinner. “It was,” he agrees. 

Her hand snakes onto his shoulder and rubs comfortingly before asking, “What are you planning to do tonight?” She’s already getting too excited at the offer she has ready, sitting at the tip of her tongue and ready to unravel. 

“Ah, I’m having dinner with Yeona.” 

Faltering slightly, she turns back to the same grin a second later. She should have known. It was Father’s Day after all. He has a daughter. He has a family — more or less. “Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He smiles. And it’s wide and genuine, not at all directed towards her but at the paper he carefully shades at. 

She nods carefully and slowly. “You seem excited.” 

He finally looks up at her and he smiles again. “Yeah,” he hums thoughtfully before agreeing, “I guess I am.” 

“_____ invited?” She pokes, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Kind’ve? I asked to visit after work and she said she would cook dinner.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He returns back to his sketching all too quickly. 

Seol bites her lip, hand going up to support her jaw and head as she observes closely, the man she’s been dating for over two months and pining for way longer — the glint in his eye and all. 

She only wonders if it was the aspect from spending time with his daughter, or having his ex-wife present in all of it too. 

Either way, from the short time in dating him, she’s only seen this particular look on him once. 

And that was only when he was married. 

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 8: Conversations

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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“I can take you back to your room!” You said, reaching for Valkyrie’s bag to carry it for her.

She clicked her tongue at you. “Will you stop fussing about with me, I’m fine! I can carry my own things.”

You smiled tightly and nodded. Valkyrie sighed and put a hand on your arm. “But, I appreciate what a sweetheart you’ve been to me. Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now that practice is cancelled?” You said.

Valkyrie shook her head. “Ugh, I don’t know. I’ve been itching to get back to the field but we can’t even do that! I don’t even know what happened, Freya. One minute, I got the quaffle in my hands and all I care about is that goal. Next, everything’s gone to shit and I’m getting pecked to death by these damn birds.”

“And now Ken’s missing,” you said. Your lips were chapped with dryness.

“Yeah, it seems like our last year won’t be as fun as we thought…” Valkyrie said, a gloom appearing over her face.

You bid each other goodbye for the day and went to your separate common rooms. You did not want to leave her on her own, but throughout your friendship, you found that letting her be was sometimes best. Valkyrie did not like being coddled too much and appreciated the space. You knew she would reach out when she was ready, and you would wait for her as always.

With Valkyrie’s presence gone, you were left to think about your own problems. Professor Laufeyson had already occupied nearly half of your thoughts earlier on, and now he took over most of them. Behind every question, you wondered if he knew something or was a part of it in some way. It had become a strange mystery that you had no way to resolve since he did not tell you anything.

Upon entering your room, you sat on your bed and pulled out a book from your side table: Spells for the Common House Cat. The dark red leather was faded, but the wording still kept its former gloss. You ran a hand over the cover gently. “Alright, you came to me for a reason, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

You opened the book to reveal a random page. Once again, gibberish greeted you:

Capture grunting mermaids and the secret to life is in the cherry pies. They are so good and open fresh like market Thursdays! Hate to spill the dogs and cats, but it is not in good taste to leave the wine hanging from the bedroom. I cannot dream in rainy houses and Leah makes sure of it!

“What are you trying to say?” you said aloud.

You peeled through a couple more pages and though it was different, none of it made any sense. The entire book was filled with words, and yet, none of them meant anything to you. The name Leah came up several times, but even that did not stir any recollection within you.

From your robes, you pulled out your want and pointed to the middle of the open book. “Aparecium,” you said, and a speck of light came out of your wand and disappeared into the pages of the book.

For nearly a minute you waited, and nothing happened. You raised your wand to try the spell again when the words on the pages vanished. The now blank yellowish white parchment paper faced you and readjusted in your bed. “What are you?”

You sat there staring at it when you had the idea to take out your quill and inkwell from your drawer. Taking the book and quill to the small desk against the wall, you sat down and wrote in the middle of the blank page, Hello. Your words gradually disappeared, as if the ink absorbed into the book.

For several seconds, there was nothing. And then, words appeared in the middle of the page - in the same rushed scrawl that had been in the book before. Hello there, it said. Then it disappeared.

You sat back for a moment, shocked. You took a breath and then dipped your quill into the inkwell. My name is Freya Eves, you wrote.

Your words disappeared again. And in their place new words appeared in the other script, Hello Freya Eves, my name is Leah Mai.

You swallowed, your nerves sizzled with excitement and a bit of fear. You wrote again: Do you know about the Tesseract?

You waited.

Yes.

Your heart sped as you wrote: Can you tell me?

No.

You leaned forward in disappointment. But then more words appeared.

But I can show you. Let me take you back fifty years ago…

You jumped when you felt yourself being pulled inwards towards the book. The surrounding air compressed, and you found yourself sucked into a spell. One moment you were in your bedroom and the next, you were in the hallways of Hogwarts. However, everything was in a desaturated sort of colour; as if it were an old film.

Students passed you in the hall talking in anxious whispers, and someone nearly walked right into you. You wandered down the hall and spotted a beautiful black-haired girl, skin as pale as the marble on the facades. She was leaning on the stone railing and staring curiously up the stairs.

“Are you Leah Mai?” You said.

The girl ignored you and continued to look up the stairs.

You spoke again. “Hello, can you hear me?”

She paid no attention to you, as if you were invisible and inaudible. You followed her gaze up the steps and saw a much younger Headmistress Frigga, looking extremely grim while a group of professors carried someone on a stretcher down the stairs. That someone had a white sheet over their body and face. As they descended the steps, a hand slipped out from beneath the white sheet and you saw dark blood drip on the floor in little beads. A small gasp escaped your lips.

“Mai!” Said Headmistress Frigga in a stern voice.

Both you and the black-haired girl beside you turned your head to face her. The girl answered in a calm voice. “Professor Frigga,” she said, walking up the steps.

Frigga crossed her arms and gazed down at the girl. “It is not wise to be wandering around this late hour, Leah.”

The girl looked down and placed her hands behind her back. “Y-yes professor. I suppose...I had to see for myself if the rumors were true.”

Frigga clenched her jaw and unclenched. “I’m afraid they are, Leah. They are true.”

“About the school as well?” Leah said. “I don’t have a home to go to, they wouldn’t close Hogwarts would they, professor?”

Frigga sighed. “I understand Leah, but I’m afraid Headmaster Oppin will have no choice.”

“So if it all stopped? If the person responsible was caught,” the girl said, hands firmly clasped behind her.

Frigga leaned in with a curious, yet gentle, look. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

The girl raised her brows. “No, madam. Nothing.”

“Very well then, off you go.”

Leah walked up the steps and around the hall. You glanced at Frigga one more time before racing up the steps to catch up with Leah. She went down the dimly lit halls, descending a curved set of stone steps into the lower levels, which you were unfamiliar with despite having seven years of exploring the halls of the school. Leah stopped where there was a statue of an old woman holding a lantern. The lantern cast a yellowish colour over the grey stone of her face. Leah tapped the woman’s nose three times with her wand, once on the left cheek, and then ran her wand across the woman’s lips. The statue’s mouth opened large enough for Leah’s fist to fit through. She pulled out a beautiful cloak of silver and blue.

When she put it on, her entire body disappeared. Then, she placed it overhead, and you were alone in the corridor. You concentrated and could barely see a pale outline which moved quickly past you and back up the stairs. You realized she was completely invisible, but the book wanted you to follow her, so you did.

You went to the Headmaster’s floor, where the halls were dead and empty save for two hushed voices. There was one very tall, thin man with a salt and pepper beard down to his waist, which he stroked frequently. The other was a burlier man, but shorter. His face was stern, and he had an eyepatch over his left eye. There was a black raven perched on his shoulder. This man had an air of power and seemed to be speaking passionately.

“We cannot deny that a student is manipulating the creature, Oppin!” The stern man said. His eye blazed with anger.

The tall thin man, Headmaster Oppin, you presumed, spoke. His voice was a gentle rasp. “Odin, none of our students are capable of such dark sorcery, you must know that.”

You staggered back at the realization that you were staring at the Minister of Magic himself, Professor Laufeyson’s father.

“The Dark One has risen, and his shadow lingers here. Doesn’t the Michaels boy prove that?”

Oppin gazed at the floor through his bifocal glasses. “They found his body just by the Black Lake...it was in two pieces, Odin.” He removed his glasses with a grimace and rubbed his eyes. “I do not know what we should do.”

“We need to use the Tesseract.”

Oppin glanced up at Odin, looking almost upset. “We cannot use the magic of the Primis!”

Odin shook his head. “You have no idea how many good auror’s we have lost at the ministry, Oppin! Tell me where the Tesseract is. You merely delay what will be,” he said, with a hiss. His raven flapped its wings before settling back down.

Oppin set his mouth in a thin line and gave a resigned sigh. “I am sure I will deeply regret this decision, but I cannot bear to lose any more students. Come,” he said and led Odin into his office. You followed them up the steps, with the pale figure of Leah in front of you.

They rushed through the door when Oppin spoke. “Deep in the Forbidden Forest, there is a Weeping Willow with black leaves. At the heart of it is a hollow which leads down into the caves where the Tesseract was found at the bottom of an underground lake. We dared not touch it, and I am the only wizard left who remembers where it is. They erased their own memories to relieve themselves of the burden of the Primis.” His voice was grave.

You saw the pale outline of Leah twitch before she bumped the open door and raced out of the room. Oppin and Odin briefly glanced in her direction before returning to their exchange. You thought you should follow her, but you stayed by Odin, transfixed by their conversation.

Oppin spoke again. “Do you really think this will stop the monster?”

“It will stop the one controlling the monster,” Odin said.

You felt a pull from behind you as the compressed feeling came over you again. No, I need to know more! Light surrounded you as you passed through the book and found yourself thrown back into the chair in your room. You nearly lost your balance and toppled over, but gripped the edge of the desk. Your heart fluttered wildly from what you had just seen and your hands shook.

You knew where the Tesseract was and that it was the key to stopping the monster in the Forbidden Forest.

For a moment, you wondered why events were repeating fifty years later. And a dangerous question arose in your thoughts. Who was controlling the creature now? Your stomach churned when a certain dark-haired and blue-eyed professor came to mind. In your heart, you believed he would never do such a thing. But with everything happening, there was little he had given you to trust him. You wanted to reach out to him, to tell him everything, but your doubts clouded all your hopes. It was up to you now to find the Tesseract and save Pom’s brother.

That night, before dinner, you followed the same path from the book and descended the circular stairs to one of the lower levels of Hogwarts. You nearly jumped from excitement when you saw the familiar statue of the old woman and the lantern. Cobwebs covered her face now. Upon pulling out your wand, you tapped her nose three times, once on the left cheek, and then ran your wand across her lips. Her mouth gaped open, and you reached inside apprehensively. Feeling the softness of cloth, you pulled out the cloak and marvelled at it. After dusting it off, you put it on and cried out in surprise when your entire body disappeared.

“Thank you, Leah!” you said aloud.

You arrived at the Great Hall with the cloak tucked away in a cloth bag. Upon eating a quick meal of pea soup and pumpkin bread, you searched for Mo. He was in the hall with Nila, standing suspiciously close as she giggled at something he said. You hid in a corner and put on the cloak. Sneaking up behind him, you pulled his ear.

He swatted his head, and Nila gave him a strange look. “Are you alright?” she said.

Mo glanced behind him, right through you. “Um...y-yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

When he turned back, you kicked him gently on the rear, and he jumped up. “Alright, you bastard! Who’s messing with me?”

“Listen, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later Mo,” Nila said and rushed away, giving him a sideways glance.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mo said, exasperated.

You bent over laughing and pulled the cloak off to see the initially angry, then stupefied expression on Mo’s face. It took you a few minutes to stop laughing so you could explain yourself and your plan. He stood in silence, gaping at you, while he listened.

“Are you bloody mad?” he said, after you finished.

“No, I’m just the only one who can help find her brother. The creature is guarding the Tesseract, making sure nobody gets to it. That thing could be the reason everything’s been going to shit!”

“Why don’t you tell a professor?” Mo said, crossing his arms.

You rolled your eyes. “Mo, we have absolutely no idea who is controlling this monster. It could be a student, but have you thought maybe it could only be a powerful witch or wizard who could even conjure this kind of magic? A professor would be much more likely…” you said, dreading the thought of Professor Laufeyson.

Mo sighed. “So let me get this straight. You want to sneak out in the middle of the night, go into the forest where this monster lives, get the Tesseract and then what? Magically fix everything?”

“And find Ken,” you added.

“You’re mental.”

“Will you help me?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go get Pom and find her brother.”

***

Loki sat in his office grading assignments. So many poor performing students. What has magic come to these days? Some kids were barely trying. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. An icy breeze blew through the room and knocked a few papers off his desk. He cursed and went to go pick them up. Glancing outside, he thought he saw the faintest movement of a tree branch move against the wind. He gazed out the window suspiciously, but there was no other trace of movement other than leaves blowing against the castle.

The girl surfaced in his mind.

“I don’t want you to die.” She had said.

He laughed at himself for being so utterly pathetic that a single word from a stranger would move him so deeply. Loki dared not admit how his heart pulsated at the girl’s words. He thought of her face, quite beautiful, though she clearly did not know it. She was the kind to grow into her confidence, which was just brooding below the surface. It was that confidence that moved in her body, in her hips, whenever she ran from him. It was that confidence that gave him snarky replies to his accusations. And it was that confidence that gave her dark eyes a defiant glow. Loki chuckled at how silly it all was. She was everything that she needed to be, and yet she had no idea.

“Don’t do it,” he said to himself as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He sighed as he retrieved a folded piece of blank paper and placed it in front of him. This was a shameful ritual he developed recently. It started when he grew suspicious of the girl’s knowledge regarding the Tesseract. He simply needed to know where she went and who she spoke with. That was all. Reconnaissance only.

As the days passed, he found himself searching for her location on a whim. Finding ways he might run into her again.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said, pointing his wand to the center of the paper.

The paper filled out with intricate floor plans of the Hogwarts grounds and little footsteps with name tags showing every single person in the vicinity. He spared a passing glance at the name Frigga Borson, pacing in her office. As he searched the castle, he saw the name Thor Odinson in this office with Valkyrie Brunnhilde. At this late hour? Curious, he would have to tuck that information away for later.

“Where are you, little minx?” He said, exploring the map.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement outside of the castle walls. He unfolded the map to its outer limit, just at the start of the Forbidden forest. He moved the map closer to his face and nearly crumpled it in his hands as he recognized three names grouped closely together, wandering towards the forest.

Mo Darwish. Pom Clemmens. Freya Eves.

Loki cursed and shut the map. “Mischief managed,” he said as he grabbed his coat and nearly ran out the door.

What was that damned girl up to now?

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

Chapter Footnotes

I'm sorry for the late post, I was supposed to post this yesterday but things got so busy this weekend. I made time today though and finished what I hope is an interesting and fun chapter! The plot thickens....

Sending you happy thoughts and good vibes :)

[lunarmessenger]

Hard Regrets (Pt. 4) - 707 x MC

Hi. I don’t have an explanation; life sucks, but I’m trying to come back. I’ve missed you all, I’m sorry I disappeared. I’ll make an announcement that I’ve been thinking on once I finish all the requests that I am long overdue on. - luna xx

warnings: angst. this is the last part, and, unfortunately, will not have a happy ending. something a bit more realistic.

word count: 2k

(pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

His heart was racing, his footsteps pounding against the tiled floor as he ran through the hospital. His glasses were fogging as the sweat pooled at his forehead, hands shaking as his eyes scanned each number of the rooms. He finally came to the number he was told to go to, his throat suddenly dry as he gulped. It was a phone call from Jumin that had announced what had happened, his brows furrowing as he hesitated. Would she even want to see him? After what he’d done...

“I know you’re out there, Saeyoung. Get in here.” Jumin’s strong voice was enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and throw open the door, biting his lip as he slowly opened his eyes. There was Jumin’s private security standing between Zen and Saeran, both men breathing heavily as they glared at each other. Zen’s nose was bleeding while Saeran’s face looked rather untouched, his clothes ripped with multiple holes as they huffed. Jumin was rubbing his forehead, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked up to see Saeyoung.

“Well?” He slowly walked in, and as he did she slowly came into view. She was sitting in her bed, looking down and away from him as she played with his fingers. The shock was evident, his mouth hung open as he saw the many scars and healing cuts that were all over her body. The thought of what she’d been through all because he had chased her out; the weight of it almost crushed him. His legs shook as he walked over to her, Zen grunting as he grew closer. He furrowed his brows, turning towards him as he scoffed.

“Just so you know; you don’t deserve her.”

“Shut up, pretty boy. Don’t talk about my brother that way.” Saeran sneered, the two men getting ready to go at it again until a small voice spoke up.

“Are you angry at me?” All of them turned towards her, her eyes focused on Saeyoung who was still taking it all in. Jumin flicked his fingers towards security and in minutes they understood, dragging the two men out of the room as they groaned and whined in protest. Jumin followed closely behind, stopping beside Saeyoung and gripping his shoulder. He gave a slight squeeze, Saeyoung wincing as he looked over. Intense gray eyes bore into his golden ones as he spoke, his words hanging heavy in his head as he looked between her and Saeyoung.

“Don’t mess this up again; I can’t hold back other suitors forever.” With those words he left, firmly shutting the door behind him. He turned towards her again, his tired eyes meeting her soft, gentle gaze as she waited for him to approach. His throat felt dry as he gulped, slumping over and grabbing the chair near her bed. He pulled it slightly away so that he wasn’t right beside her to give her some space.

It was a well calculated decision, her hands trembling as she turned her head towards the sunlight. The distance was for him too; he wanted to give himself a little extra time to fully grasp her entire being. It was like he was seeing her again for the first time, his eyes glancing over every inch of her body. She was so different visually, but her energy was still the same; a warm and comforting air about her drawing him in just like it did when they first met.

He looked away as she looked back towards him, patiently and anxiously waiting for his response to her question. She could tell that he was nervous too, his leg bouncing as he bit his lip. He was thinking; he always had that same furrowed brow look that he got when he was going through the motions, and she knew it all too well. The familiar look almost made her smile; almost.

“I’m not angry with you,” He finally responded, his voice making her chest tighten as her cheeks suddenly grew warm from her blush. He was finally looking at her now, his matted hair spilling over the frames of his glasses as he still thought of how to finish his sentence. He gave a sigh, shaking his head as he continued to speak.

“If anything, I’m more angry with myself. I should have never done that to you; a thousand times I’ve asked myself what I’ve done to deserve you.” His voice was quiet, almost shaking as he felt the tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, but at the same time he didn’t want to hold it in either. After being with her for this long; he had slowly began to unlearn the horrible habits he’d bestowed upon himself as well as his mother and father ever since he was a child. There was something else he wanted to say; or more so ask, and she had an idea of what it was.

It’s not like she waltzed into the hospital and asked them to give her a place to stay; and there’s no way those cuts and bandages had made their way onto her body by themselves. He hesitated though, his leg bouncing faster because if what he was thinking was the reality, it would break him. She was thinking the same thing, her mouth opening and closing as she thought of what to say. She didn’t want to lie to him, and after everything...she still wanted to be with him. Maybe right now wasn’t the time; who knows. But she couldn’t sit there and lie to him.

“It was an accident. Um...while I was running, I was hit by a car.” His stomach lurched as his head snapped up to her, her face still but not exactly hateful. The tears couldn’t be held in anymore and they fell down his cheeks, his bottom lip trembling as he put his head in his hands.

“Oh, God. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault...” He’d gone still except for his shoulders as he sobbed, the weight of everything finally taking it’s toll. His actions, her disappearance, her injuries. Everything had happened because of him; and it couldn’t be denied. He appreciated how Saeran defended him earlier and, the efforts he’d put in to make sure that Saeyoung knew that he wasn’t being blamed for what happened. But he knew better than that.

He knew that just like Zen, Saeran blamed his brother for everything.

“Saeyoung—” She stopped herself. While part of her knows that she shouldn’t have just blindly went into the road like that; she’s aware that she wouldn’t have felt as scared as she did if Saeyoung hadn’t reacted the way he did. She had reached for him but stopped, hand trembling as she pulled it back and turned away. He’d noticed, the pain growing even more when he realized that she wasn’t going to comfort him. Not this time.

“I think that we need some time apart. More than the time we’ve already have.” The weight in his stomach grew heavier, sweat forming on his face and body as he swallowed, hard. She was right; the shock and trauma of what he had been put through by V and Rika wasn’t going away; and it showed with how he treated her the night that caused all of this. Even with that fact, he couldn’t bring himself to want what she wanted; even though that’s what would be best.

“I...MC...” He couldn’t really speak, his heart pounding at the complete realization. It didn’t matter, none of it. Her mind was made up, he could see it in the way that she looked at him, her expression painful but solid. This was the right decision, he knows that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Whatever he was going to say to try to sway her mind had been erased from his, his head finally nodding as he looked back up at her.

“You’re right. I...I need help. I need to help myself before we can do this.” This time she couldn’t keep her composure, tears slipping down her face as well as she leaned over towards him. He leaned closer to, closing his eyes as their hands connected. She gave a hard squeeze while his was gentle, their entire beings shaking, afraid to pull away. Once they pulled away that was it; they wouldn’t be the way they were before it all.

They were both scared; MC was the first to pull away, his heart feeling empty as she sniffed and used her blanket to wipe the tears. She was even second guessing herself, her eyes lingering over him. She took him in as if this was going to be the last time she saw him, and knowing him, that wouldn’t be an exaggeration. She took in his usual expression, now sadder than usual as he looked at his lap. His long nimble fingers that had brought her both pleasure and pain, his usual jacket that he always had with him.

Lastly his golden eyes; how from the very beginning when she’d first met him they’d captivated her entire being. His gaze was always enough to make her melt, to look into the deepest parts of her soul where she felt the most vulnerable. His eyes that she would miss waking up to every morning; so much that it hurt. She knew too that the decision she’d come up with was right, but she didn’t have to like it. While it hurt, it did make her feel a bit better seeing that he was going through the same trouble.

“This isn’t goodbye I...we’ll try again. When we’re both better.” She reached for him again, her warm hands pressing against his cold face as he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. He gave another nod, reaching his hands up to her arm and squeezing.

“I love you.” Her breath was shaky as she pressed her cheek against his soft hair, taking a deep breath to finalize her memory of ever single part of him.

“I love you too.” Finally he pulled away, standing up and stuffing his hands in his pockets. They couldn’t bear to look at each other as he walked away, his heart screaming for him to stop and turn around, to look back. He knew that if he did he would cave, he would break down right there, and neither one of them needed that. So he kept moving, opening the door and closing it behind him; somehow he knew, that she appreciated him not looking back either.

All three of the men were waiting outside the room, Zen and Saeran having calmed down enough for Jumin to send away most of his private security. Zen was the first one to approach him, his arms at his sides as he looked between the closed door and Saeyoung. The look in his eye was enough to make Saeran finalize the idea that he’d already thought the moment his brother walked into that room. Sometime during their conversation he’d felt his heart drop, and that’s when he knew that things between his brother and MC would quite frankly, never be the same again.

“I’m going home.” He earned a grunt of confirmation from Saeyoung as he walked off, Jumin crossing his arms and sighing as he stood up from leaning against the wall. He walked up to Saeyoung once more, patting his shoulder as he spoke.

“I see you two have finally understood. At least you’ve both come to a decision.” With that he walked off, not telling Saeyoung if he’d necessarily made the right or wrong one. Zen was still confused, his brows furrowing as he approached Saeyoung. He wasn’t stupid; he could tell from the way he looked that things did not go well in the room, his stomach twisting from anticipation as he finally asked.

“Well?” Saeyoung finally lifted his head and looked at him, expression empty and heart broken as he spoke in only a whisper.

“It’s done.”

[nerdierholler]

Wayhaven Frights Day 2: Thriller

Pairing: Henry Kingston/Nate Rating: T for making out Word Count: 1300 Warnings: None This is a continuation of yesterday's stormy night fill, I'm not 100% sure if this will count for today's prompt but things do get more thrilling than just watching a passing storm. Basically it's one big make out session, everything stays above the waist though. Also, I completely understand if the mods think it's a stretch too far for the prompt. Nonetheless, here it is.

Thriller

After a few minutes, Henry’s fingers started absently trailing up and down Nate’s spine. He shivered at the touch, breathing out a soft moan as the sensation coursed through his body. In response, Henry’s movements slowed, becoming delicate but deliberate.

Nate wanted to stay like this, to enjoy this simple moment together, but a thrill raced through his body at the temptation for a chance at something more. Leaning back, he placed a finger under Henry’s chin and tilted it up. A blush covered Henry’s cheeks in a rosy glow and when he met Nate’s gaze, his eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted in anticipation.

The first kiss was slow. Henry filled Nate’s senses: his scent, the softness of his lips, the day old stubble that scratched against his skin. Nate’s tongue darted between Henry’s lips, hungry to taste more and the once gentle touch on Nate’s back turned into fingers gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer. Encouraged, he drew a line slowly along Henry’s neck, across the frayed collar of the shirt, and down his chest until he reached the hem. Slowly, he slipped his hand beneath and let it rest on Henry’s hip.

Henry pulled back just enough to speak, “Is anyone else around?”

Nate closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the man who was now running his fingers along his scalp, however the sensation threatened to push every other thought from his mind. The best he could tell was that no one was nearby although he couldn’t pinpoint their locations either.

“I don’t think so,” he said finally, “but it’s hard to be sure where everyone is.” He smiled as he looked down at Henry, “I’m a little distracted.”

“Is that so?” Henry purred.

It was rare, but he thoroughly enjoyed it when Henry showed flashes of confidence with him. He rubbed his thumb along Henry’s hip bone. “It is.”

The flush on Henry’s face deepened and spread down his neck, presumably all the way down to his chest. Nate desperately wished he could see it, feeling the spreading heat was almost enough to make him want to rip the worn fabric apart.

“Well then,” Henry purred once more before pausing, “then...I’m glad.” He frowned and looked away at the awkwardness of his words but it only made Nate’s pulse flutter.

A lopsided grin formed on Nate’s face, “I’m glad too.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of Henry’s face, letting his fingers run along his cheek, Henry leaning into the touch so that Nate’s thumb trailed across his bottom lip, tugging it down. He rubbed the tip along the soft skin only to be surprised when Henry dipped his head just enough to envelope it with his mouth and suck on it gently.

The desperate whimper that escaped Nate should have been shameful but there was nothing shameful about his feelings for Henry. The pounding in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach, the heat rising even lower in his abdomen, they were normal and natural and completely unlike anything he’d ever felt for another person before.

But his whine made Henry stop, brought too much into the moment and too aware of what he’d been doing, he swallowed and looked away sheepishly. Nate enjoyed the way Henry would blush and get flustered when he caught him off guard with a comment, but he hoped Henry knew it went both ways. Every stuttered word, each bashful glance away, caused aches to form inside Nate. The moments when Henry took charge, be it while working on a case or when they were flirting, just about made him shatter.

Leaning in, he rested his head against Henry’s, their lips close, but not quite touching, and held his breath, waiting. Henry kissed him once...twice...a third time...then crashed against his mouth, needy and wanting, grasping at Nate’s shirt to pull him closer.

Happy to oblige, Nate eased Henry back against the wall. Shifting his weight forward, he found the bottom of Henry’s shirt once again and slipped a hand inside to roam across the skin beneath. Mimicking his movements, Henry’s hands tugged at Nate’s shirt, working to free it from where it was neatly tucked in. Impatient to feel the other man’s hands on his skin, Nate pulled out the ends of his shirt and quickly undid the buttons, letting it hang open, hoping it would be invitation enough for the usually reserved detective to explore beneath.

Breath heavy with anticipation, waiting for the first touch almost sent Nate over the edge. Henry placed a hand against his chest and Nate groaned against him. He could feel Henry smile at the reaction he’d drawn out of Nate. If only Henry knew just how much he was holding back.

Minutes passed as they fell into a comfortable rhythm of needy kisses and curious touches until Henry’s shirt was bunched beneath his arms and Nate was finally rewarded with the sight of Henry’s chest, flushed pink, rising with each panting breath, the soft flesh dimpling beneath his fingers. It was perfect, he was perfect. Nate pulled Henry against him, fingers tangling in his hair, until almost every inch of their bodies were pressed together. The feeling of Henry’s chest against his sent a thrill through Nate’s body. The warmth spread like a fire across his sensitive skin, one he yearned to be consumed by.

But not tonight.

As much as he wanted this to continue, a part of his mind reminded him that they had roommates and even if they didn’t he wasn’t sure how much more he could take before giving into temptation. There was something about the detective that tested his practiced patience and he very much wanted to be patient. He wanted to do things in order. He wanted to do things right by Henry. He wanted to savor every minute they had together so he could carefully collect them in his memories. It was impossible to completely let himself live in the moment when everything reminded him that Henry was human… and he was not.

Nate sighed and rested his forehead against Henry’s, “I hate to say this, but it’s getting late.”

“Oh.”

The unmistakable disappointment in Henry’s voice pulled on Nate’s still racing heart. “It’s not that I don’t…” Nate started, a rare moment of struggling to find the right words. It was too complicated to explain right now, after this, but it was something they should probably talk about, and soon. “It is late,” he said instead, “ you need sleep, and honestly, I’m surprised the others have left us alone this long.” All valid points for the current situation.

“Right,” Henry said, his face turning an even brighter shade of crimson with the thought of being caught in this state.

They both tried to collect themselves, Henry smoothing his shirt and Nate running his hands through his hair before buttoning up his. The heady carelessness of the moment was quickly fading. Before it disappeared completely, Nate cupped a hand against Henry’s cheek and kissed him one final time.

He leaned against the window still, hands in his pockets, to let Henry pass, “Good night, Henry.”

“Night, Nate,” Henry paused and glanced back one last time before walking through the door.

Nate debated staying there, leaning against cool glass until it slowly drained the burn of arousal from him, but try as he might, his mind was too full of thoughts of Henry. He wasn’t ready to let go of the feeling of Henry’s skin against his or his taste that still lingered on Nate’s tongue. With a low growl of longing and frustration, he stood and made his way back to his own room wondering if Henry’s thoughts would be as preoccupied as his before he drifted back to sleep.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 17

17/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: Nisei adjacent | T | 5.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

Scully meets the Mufon women, who clue her into their shared fate; Mulder accompanies Scully to the OB-GYN after her car breaks down; A mysterious voicemail appears on Scully's machine.

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

The murder of Mulder’s father--and attempted murders of the agents themselves--went the way of many X-Files, becoming another everlasting thorn in their sides. Skinner wasn’t happy with them, but he pitied them, so it was a two-week paper pusher assignment and then they were back at it. Lightning strikes, allusions to immortality from a mortal man, too many prisons and too much death; the calendar advanced, time marched on, and they saw it all but it couldn’t touch them. Wouldn’t, more like. Emotionally stunted, that’s what they are. Holding onto too much pain to process any.

And then comes Mulder’s $29.95 tape and its path to Allentown; a Japanese diplomat, a dead man, and a list of Mufon members wait in its wake. All of which lead Scully to Betsy Hagopian’s doorstep.

These women--whom she has never seen before, nor could not pick from any crowd--know her. They swear. She is one of them, they say, as if that’s supposed to snap everything into perspective. As if the semblance of belonging somewhere will make her spill her guts. But no; she wants to be nothing but herself, and sometimes not even that.

Then there are dozens of cars outside and women surround her, speaking of a place she didn’t know she knew until they said it. A blank slate flashes in her mind; an echo from some past life. She doesn’t believe in reincarnation, so how can that be?

Then the women--these strange women--speak of men & mysterious tests, and a drill sears Scully’s brain, and she’s coming apart, and is this annihilation or healing?

These images--she can hardly call them memories--expand until she’s living inside them. She is doubled, the victim and the spectator. She sees herself on a medical table, a tube spiraling from her belly button. It’s nonsensical, there’s no procedure of the sort. And then, before her unblinking eyes, her stomach grows. Inflated like a balloon. Her warped form...it looks pregnant, and her old fear comes back as a bitter taste in her mouth. Surely this is something seen in a dream, impossible to be reflected in any reality.

The rattle of metal pulls her back to the present. Every woman standing before her holds a capsule containing a microchip, barely perceptible to the eye. Marked...they have been marked. She has too, they say. They have all the scar, and it’s already been established that she is one of them.

Scully’s swept up by the crowd and taken to Betsy Hagopian at Allentown Medical Center. She’s unsure at this point whether she’s investigating the murder case or some vastly larger conspiracy. Or if those are even distinguishable.

She watches as the nurse slides Betsy into the MRI machine, wonders how Betsy feels about them being there as she disappears from view. Scully once thought of making oncology her specialty, back when she was bright-eyed and believed she could save the world. That path would have been paved with pain, sure, but there would be victory, and above all, hope. Her current job fails to put her in such close contact with miracles.

We’re all dying because of what they do to us, Penny Northern says. And how ironic it is, Scully thinks. She and Mulder want the truth--the proof--of some atrocity greater than themselves, and they may have it...once she’s packed into a coffin. How’s that saying go? Be careful what you wish for…

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

The scar at the base of her neck had never stood out to Scully. She can’t see it, and her hair covers it anyway. She had felt it in the shower once, shortly after her return, but she wrote it off as a bug bite. No one had ever commented on it until Penny Northern and the Mufon women; not Missy, not Mulder, not her mother…

Missy had noticed it during one of their face-mask nights in the weeks after the return, but she chose not to say anything, figuring it wasn’t worth adding to her sister’s worry. If she had seen it again recently--known that it hadn’t gone away--she would have said something.

Mulder...well, he never noticed it, and holy shit, he would have given anything for a situation where he could have. Scully never wears her hair up, he’ll blame it on that though it's fruitless. Really, it’s on him. He has a mental map of the places he’s touched her--and the places he won’t. Her neck is on neither one. He hasn’t gotten there yet.

Margaret Scully never saw it, and frankly, she would have thought it was something inappropriate to mention and wished her daughter had worn a turtleneck that day. What else can be said about that?

Thus, as autumn breaks over Washington, the agents crowd into a Bureau lab with Pendrell (or Agent Nerd, as Mulder prefers to call him) to address the intruder put into Scully’s body. Scully’s calm, cool, and collected, but Mulder winces as Pendrell’s tweezers pierce her skin. He’s never had the guts (nor the patience) for the medical profession.

“Yep, I’ve got something,” Pendrell remarks, dropping it into a petri dish. Mulder inches closer to get a good look at the object, and sure enough, it’s a microchip. He’s met with the urge to pocket it and run so that his partner would never have to see it.

Instead, Pendrell presents the dish to Scully. “It looks like a computer chip to me,” he tells her. “Something manufactured.”

Scully squeezes the object between her thumb and forefinger. She looks to Mulder. “This must be what made the metal detector go off in Santa Fe.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I remember.” The handsy men at airport security still make his blood boil.

As Scully’s eyes meet Pendrell’s, he feels like he’s staring directly into a spotlight. And he’s not used to having the spotlight on him. “So it’s man-made, you believe?” she asks, as in need of an answer from him as she ever will be.

He blushes. “Well, I don’t know of manufacturing plants on any other planet, but it does look pretty technologically advanced.” He takes the dish over to a microscope and peers through. “I can’t say I’ve seen something of this complexity before.”

Pendrell moves aside so Scully can take a look. She’s not accustomed to using this sort of magnification for anything other than microbes, but the intricacy of the wiring speaks for itself. Loops upon loops upon loops of electric current, all contained in a space smaller than a pea.

She looks up. “It’s like it was storing something…” The idea of her thoughts being catalogued by some malevolent stranger is too terrifying to voice. Both men’s mind’s land on it without any prompting.

Mulder lays a hand on the small of her back and steers her away from the microscope. “We’ll get this all taken care of, okay?” he murmurs. “Pendrell will pinpoint the manufacturer, then we can track them down and help Betsy Hagopian and all those women.” He intentionally leaves out mention of Scully herself. She hates being helpless, he won’t frame her as such.

“Okay,” she squeaks out, and Mulder feels her shiver beneath her buttoned blazer.

Having received his command from Agent Mulder, Pendrell watches him usher Agent Scully out of the lab with complete control over the situation. It’s as if Agent Mulder knows what he’s doing, comforting Agent Scully with such composure. And right in front of Pendrell, too! Pendrell kicks himself for...well, being himself.

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

At ten to four, Scully grabs her purse and unclips her key ring as quietly as possible. Mulder’s in the midst of typing up a report about the Japanese diplomat who sold him the $29.95 tape, and she’d hate to ruin his flow. How alarmed Skinner would be if a Fox Mulder field report didn’t read like a Whitman poem! He’d probably assume the bounty hunter got to his agent.

She straightens her blazer and swings the purse over her shoulder. No need for a coat yet, her usual work attire combats the mid-October chill just fine. As she edges toward the door, the guilt of leaving Mulder without a goodbye stops her in her tracks. He knows about her appointment--knows she has to leave early--but still...it feels wrong to walk out without a word.

Hand against the doorframe, Scully tosses her hair over her shoulder. Her partner types at his desk with the ferocity of a teenage boy playing a video game. He even looks like one, with those wiry glasses. She can’t help but smile...these are the ordinary moments she will miss one day.

Setting her lips in a line, she pipes up--”I’ve gotta go, Mulder. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He’s instantly snapped from his trance. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He lays his glasses beside the computer, rubs the red mark on his nose. “Let me walk you down.”

“That’s not necessary,” Scully assures, one kitten heel out the door. “I can navigate the parking garage on my own.”

Mulder pops up from his chair, rounds his desk. “Well, the parking garage, yeah. But haven’t you heard that the Hoover Building is unaccustomed to beautiful women roaming its halls? Who knows what might happen if I send you up there by yourself.”

Scully gives him the unamused smirk he’s fishing for, tries to ignore the way his sleeves cuff over his elbow. “I only have to go through the lobby. I think I can hold any admirers off for those twenty steps.”

“You’re right, I should have faith in you.” He ruffles a hand through his hair. “At least let me escort you to the elevator.”

“If you must.” Scully turns sideways.

He slides past her, winking as he does. It’s infuriating, really, how smooth he can be when he wants to.

Scully follows him down the hallway, wondering if she’s finally grown into the giddy teenager her mother feared she would be. He hits the up button for her, then clasps his hands together--the only time he’s ever been the epitome of patience.

“I hate to pull you away from your next masterpiece for Skinner,” Scully teases, trying to break his gentlemanly bit.

“Oh, an artist knows no timetable,” he responds, barely taking his eyes off the elevator door. He taps his foot...they always joke that the FBI takes an elevator tax out of their paychecks for making it go all the way to the basement.

Scully looks at the floor. A moment ago, she felt like the object of Mulder’s affections. Now, she’s shut out again.

At the sound of the doors gliding open, she steps in. No need to wait for passengers to disembark; nobody comes down here. She hits the first floor button, offers Mulder a weak smile. “See you--”

He sticks his hand out as the doors begin to close and ducks into the space, taking his place beside her. She should have known...his goofy grin confirms that he’s been planning this all along. They begin their brief ascent to the next floor.

“You know, I’m having deja vu, but I’m gonna say this anyway,” Scully starts. “You’re crazy, Mulder.”

“And I’m sure I’ve said this before Scully, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again--thank you,” he replies.

Scully rolls her eyes, but god, this is much more fun than being alone. The elevator banks on the landing, and she looks to her partner as the doors open onto the lobby. “Did you lose your faith in me, or did you never have it in the first place?” she asks, taking extra long strides to keep up with him as they make their way toward the parking garage.

“What, about the whole holding off your admirers thing?”

Scully nods.

“I figured back-up wouldn’t hurt.” He slips his hands in his pockets, giving himself an air of pretension. As Scully watches him, she gets the notion that it’s all carefully calculated. It makes her feel both powerful and annoyed. She is the damsel, and he is framing himself as prince charming, though she is not in distress.

They make it to the parking garage and take another elevator up to Scully’s level. “Skinner’s gonna want that report before you leave tonight, you know,” Scully tells him, surprised that he has followed this far.

“I’ll burn the midnight oil if I have to,” he replies casually. And she can’t argue with that, cause she knows he will.

While he looks for her car, she takes a long glance at his face. He spies her sedan, and they set off in that direction.

“You don’t have to baby me,” she reminds him, almost apologetic. “I made it through med school and Quantico. If anyone is capable of--”

“It’s not about whether you’re capable, Scully. You are. But you should never have had to go through all that in the first place. It’s not fair, what you’ve dealt with.”

“Life’s not--”

“--fair. Yeah, I know, that’s why I don’t believe in God,” Mulder deadpans.

Scully gives him the infamous look. He shrugs. “It’s the truth!”

They make it to her car, and Scully lays a hand on the driver’s door. “Alright, Mulder. It looks like we’ve both learned something about each other. Very productive conversation.”

“Good thing I came all the way down here, huh.” He flashes a smile that would disarm a scorpion. Scully feels it in her core. She tightens her grip on the door, pulling it open.

“Bye, Mulder,” she prods, sliding into the driver’s seat.

He salutes her. “Bye-bye.”

He stays at the front of her parking spot as she cranks--or rather, tries to crank--her car. The engine gurgles at her in protest. One twist, two twists, three twists, nothing. She pulls the key out of the ignition and opens the door.

“It won’t start...battery’s dead, I think.”

Mulder leans against her door. “Let me try.”

Scully shuffles herself into the passenger’s seat and he settles in, finding himself squished against the steering wheel with her seat settings. He laughs and jams the key into place. The engine won’t give under his hand either.

He rests his elbow on the console and stares at his partner. Her eyes darken. “I don’t have jumper cables, do you?”

“I’m not a jumper cable man, no,” he mutters.

Scully knocks her head against the back of her seat, covers her face with her hands. “My appointment’s at 4:30. I got the latest one of the day…”

“Okay, okay, no problem.” Mulder taps her shoulder. “I’ll take you.”

She uncovers her face. “But what about the report…?”

“You really think Skinner’s gonna be surprised by another late report?”

She bites her lip. “Fine, fine. It’s off 6th Street, I’ll tell you how to get there.”

“And we can pick up jumper cables on the way back,” Mulder adds.

“Perfect.”

They hop out of the car and head for Mulder’s. Scully watches him out of the corner of her eye--he’s striding along, completely unbothered by this inconvenience. She is struck with the notion that he is a better person than her in some crucial ways.

“Do you have your keys?” she pipes up, always bringing reality into the picture.

He taps his pocket. “Right here.”

“You’re saving my ass, Mulder--thank you.”

“I was the ass hero of Oxford. I’m glad to be of service.”

Scully shakes her head, her smile eclipsing a laugh.  “Please don’t ever tell me the story behind that, ” she giggles.

“Your loss.”

And as she looks over at him in the dingy parking garage, she knows that this is exactly where she’s meant to be.

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

He wasn’t planning to go in with her--he expected that she’d make a fuss about it if he asked, and it wasn’t his business anyway. He’s surprised, then, when he pulls into a spot at the clinic and she raises an eyebrow when he doesn't turn the engine off.

“Are you coming?” she asks, one leg sticking out of the car.

“Y-you want me to go with you?” he stutters.

Scully shrinks back. “Were you planning on going back to the office? I’m not sure how long the appointment will take, but I hate to make you drive all over the place.”

“No, I was just gonna chill in here. I thought you wouldn’t want me…”

“Oh.” Scully’s out of the car now, her purse swung over her shoulder. “Well, it’s just an ultrasound, so you can come if you want. I bet you’ve never been to an OB-GYN before…”

Mulder shakes his head. “Never had the pleasure. You know I’m all for new experiences, though.”

“Come on, then.” She slams the door closed and starts walking toward the building, playing hard to get in her own little way.

Mulder cuts the engine, locks up the car, and jogs after her. Not a usual occurrence, but he likes the role-reversal.

“So is there anything I should know,” he pants as he catches up with her, “before I walk in? Is there some kind of universal girl code that governs these places?”

“The only naked women you’re about to see are in anatomical diagrams, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“Oh, so it’s not a communal kinda thing?”

“Jesus, Mulder. That’s a male fantasy if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Hey, men have urinals and locker rooms, it’s only fair that women have some arena for comparison too,” he attests.

Continuing the role-reversal, Scully holds the door for him. “Clearly, we have different priorities,” she says as he strides through. He chuckles at her as he enters, feeling no insecurity about standing out. He’s not the lone man in the waiting room, but he is the only one without a visibly pregnant wife.

He looks around while Scully checks in. The room, he feels, is misleadingly similar to any other doctor’s office. Daytime housewife fodder on TV, issues of magazines that are barely from this decade, and posters preaching about the flu shot...some unsuspecting man might walk in here because he stubbed his toe and walk out with images in his brain that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

He takes a seat at the far edge of the room, Scully joining him a moment later with a clipboard.

He points at the entry to the back--“I feel like they should have a sign on that door that says ‘beware: health class flashbacks ahead. And not the good ones.’”

“If you’re a woman, it’s no flashback,” she tells him, focused on filling out the forms. “It’s just what you deal with everyday.”

“Okay, but imagine men had to go to a place like this, and you had to go back there.”

She looks up. “Mulder, you know I do autopsies on dead bodies, right?” Then, with a smirk--”Besides, I’ve never known you to be squeamish about naked women.”

“Right, but this is like...I’m used to looking at the completed painting, and now I’m seeing the paint-by-number. Not so pretty.”

“Maybe you should go sit in the car…” Scully says with a hint of a tease.  

“I digress.” He glances absentmindedly at what she’s writing, then looks away.

Scully notices and meets his eye. “You know what I’m here for, right?”

Without intending to, he read it off her paper. “Follicle ultrasound?”

“Yes, but do you know why? ”

Mulder holds his mouth open like he’ll catch an answer that way. “Uh…” he starts, classic caught-off guard college student.

Scully jots the last marks on her forms. “To check my egg reserve and see if anything’s changed since the last time. To see if there’s any possibility of me having a biological child, essentially.”

“Huh,” Mulder hums dumbly. Way to make an asshole of himself, cracking jokes at a time like this. He wishes it were socially acceptable to walk around with tape over your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t realize the situation was so dire.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

It’s funny she says that, because at that exact moment Mulder is thinking about how it is his fault, and where’s the nearest bridge? He realizes then, too, that maybe she wants him there so she’s not alone for whatever the results say, and boy, this is more than he bargained for when he offered to drive her.

He turns to her, his glance far shyer than usual. “So this is the follow-up to your first ultrasound?”

Scully nods. “It’s been almost a year.”

“But you…” he tries to arrange the words in as courteous a manner as possible. “Are you still premenopausal?”

Scully crosses one leg over the other. She’s pleasantly surprised that he cares about this. “No, I’m on birth control to regulate my cycles. But that doesn’t matter if I don’t have enough eggs left for potential fertilization. Fertility and menstruation are not necessarily linked.”

“But there’s an upside to that, right? Aren’t there health risks with early menopause?”

“Yep.”

Mulder’s not sure whether she’s answering his first question or his second one. He lets it be, and good thing, because a nurse calls Scully’s name moments later. He follows her into the back like an eager to please puppy, playing it cool until the nurse pipes up.

“Mr. & Mrs. Scully, how are you?”

“Not married ,” Scully clarifies, amused.

“Oh,” the nurse takes a stray glance at her clipboard. “I’m sorry.” She gestures toward Mulder. “You are…?”

“Fox Mulder. I’m her partner.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Gender-neutral language, very inclusive.”

“He’s my FBI partner,” Scully grumbles, giving Mulder a punch in the bicep for his purposeful vagueness. “I work at the Bureau.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” The nurse waves them into an exam room then closes the door behind herself. As she reads over Scully’s chart, Mulder’s presence makes less and less sense to her, and she addresses her patient with pitched confusion in her voice.

“So you are here for a follow-up antral follicle count...?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The nurse reads from the chart. “Your first one was roughly eleven months ago and indicated low fertility. Five follicles were counted.”

Scully nods.

“But since then, you’ve started hormonal birth control and now have stable menstrual cycles, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” The nurse makes note of this, then looks to Scully. “If you could come with me for a moment, we’re gonna get your weight, and then Dr. Zapolsky will be right in for the ultrasound.”

Alone in the strange room, Mulder’s met with fascination, not fear. He’s never seen an exam chair with stirrups in real life, and it makes him chuckle, reminiscent of birth scenes in slapstick comedies. On the counter is a 3D model of the uterus, which is pretty cool if he’s being honest. Remove the labels and it’s a modern art piece...and he means that with all due respect. His reproductive system would not make a nice decoration, that’s for sure.

He’s reading a poster about each trimester of pregnancy when Scully and the nurse come back in. Did you know that babies can be frightened by loud noises while they’re still in the womb? he wants to ask, but Scully knows everything, so she probably already knows that.

Scully settles into the exam chair as best she can. She locks eyes with Mulder, and he winks at her--again. It puts a genuine smile on her face, which has never happened in this room. The nurse exits quietly, but they are still there, and so is the smile.

They don’t speak at first. Silence is good when it’s comfortable, they have learned, and it’s always comfortable for them. Until Mulder begins to worry that Scully’s head might be spinning with dark thoughts, and he can’t have that. He thumbs toward the poster. “Did you know that loud noises can frighten babies through the womb?”

Scully’s gaze falls upon him, warm and light. “I’ve always thought that was just an old wife’s tale. I never saw it demonstrated during my obstetrics rotation.”

“Well, it’s on the poster. It’s gotta be true,” he wisecracks.

The door opens, and the majestic Dr. Zapolsky saunters in.

“Let’s ask Dr. Zapolsky,” Scully suggests.

“What’s that?” The doctor rolls the ultrasound machine to the center of the room.

“We were wondering if it’s true that babies in the womb can spook at loud noises,” Scully explains.

“It’s on the poster,” Mulder adds.

“Oh! Yes! But not until around 28 weeks.” Dr. Zapolsky sits down on her stool. “You never saw that during your rotations?”

Scully shakes her head.

“It presents as a kick, and as long as the exposure to the noise is not continuous, it’s harmless.”

“Good to know...I guess,” Scully finishes, wondering why Mulder fixated on that of all things.

Dr. Zapolsky scoots toward her patient. “How are you doing, Dana?”

Scully musters a smile. “I’m okay. Much better than I was last year at this time.”

“And who is your guest…?” she asks, swerving toward Mulder.

“Mulder, my partner at the Bureau. My car went dead, so he had to drive me.”

“Ah! Hello Mulder.”

Mulder nods. “Nice to meet you.”

“I see you’ve gained some weight since your last visit,” Dr. Zapolsky tells Scully. “That’s a good thing--fueling your body allows it to put energy toward ovarian function.”

Scully tries to accept this as a compliment, though she’s been conditioned not to view it as one.

The doctor continues. “And you’re doing well on your birth control? Any problems with it?”

“Nope, everything’s working out.”

“Wonderful.” Zapolsky clasps her hands together. “Looks like we’re all set for the ultrasound. Go ahead and lie back.”

Scully does so.

“I’ll need you to pull your waistband and underwear down. Let me get you a sheet for cover.” She slides over to the cabinets and pulls out a disposable blue blanket, which she drapes over Scully’s bent knees.

Mulder turns his head away as Scully shimmies off her skirt of choice--black, pencil, from the clearance rack at J. Crew, per usual.  Not that he’d be able to see anything since she already has cover, but he’s not risking any disrespect. Scully’s not paying attention to him, and it’s a testament to the trust they have developed.

Dr. Zapolsky grabs the ultrasound wand and takes it under the sheet, using the image on the monitor to guide it into place. “Everything feel alright?” she asks Scully, who nods.

The three occupants focus intently on the screen; two of them have a clear sense of what they’re looking for, and one has no idea. A few circles appear on the monitor, narrowly standing out from the background.

“There they are, right?” Scully inquires with tension in her voice.

Dr. Zapolsky nods. “Those are your follicles. What do you notice?”

Scully’s eyes search the screen. “There’s not many.”

“I’m afraid not. Six. One more than last time, but not the improvement you would need.” Dr. Zapolsky frowns. “Two low antral follicle counts qualifies you for a diagnosis of primary ovarian insufficiency. There’s no clear treatment plan, it simply functions as a label for your condition.”

Scully sits with this numbness as her doctor removes the ultrasound wand and cleans up. She wants to look at Mulder, read his face, but he’s over her shoulder and she can’t bend that way just yet. She takes a breath and pulls her skirt back on.

“So there’s no hope, then?” Her voice shakes. “Of carrying a child with one of my own eggs?”

The doctor finishes washing her hands and turns back toward her patient. “There’s a five to ten percent conception rate for women with POI. If you’re dead-set on it, IVF using an egg donor is your best option. Personally, I don’t recommend it at those odds. It’s very expensive and can take quite a physical toll.” She pats her patient’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Dana.”

With tears threatening to break her composure, Scully cranes her neck toward Mulder. He’s her escape hatch, but he’s not doing much better. His hands are squeezed into fists, his eyes dark. “I’m sorry, Scully,” he murmurs. “You don’t deserve this.”

And even if he’s right it doesn’t make any difference, because this is what she’s gotten, and this is what she must deal with. Gravity’s full brunt bears down on her body and spirit, and she wonders once again if God intends her for heaven or for hell.

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

The sun is sinking below the horizon by the time Scully sets her keys on her front table. If she wasn’t exhausted before, she is after buying jumper cables and using Mulder’s car to start hers. She hears clanging pots and pans and can only hope it’s her sister home from the lunch shift.

Forcing her tired body into the kitchen, Scully finds Melissa at the stove. The smell of marinara sauce wafts through the air.

Missy looks away from the boiling pasta she’s stirring. “Hello jellybean!” Neither one of them knows where the new nickname came from, but neither one is against it either.

“Hey Missy,” Scully says as she plops into a dining chair. She slides off her heels and stretches her toes.

“How was your day?”

“Alright,” Scully sighs. “Paperwork and then my ultrasound appointment, but my battery died so Mulder had to take me.”

“Oh my goodness!” Missy turns the heat down on the stove and strides over to her sister. “I forgot that was today...how was it?”

Scully looks up through her lashes. “Not good, Missy.”

“No?” Missy slides into the adjacent chair. “Were your counts still low?”

Scully nods, picks a piece of lint off her skirt. “Too low. Doc says I have primary ovarian insufficiency. Basically, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to have a child with my own egg.”

“God…” Missy sandwiches one of her sister’s hands between both of hers. “I’m so sorry. That’s not what you wanted to hear, I know.”

Across the way, the boiling water sings a siren song, and Missy reluctantly makes her way back toward it. “You’ll have to accept my condolences in the form of food cause I’m too far into this to stop now.”

“Oh, I will.” She’d be having a salad or...well, probably nothing, if Missy wasn’t here. Scully leans back, examines the ceiling, then rubs her eyes. “Did you know that babies can spook at loud noises through the womb? At 28 weeks, at least.”

“No, I didn’t,” Missy answers with gusto, happy to distract her sister.

“Mulder read it on some poster, and I didn’t think it was true, but it turns out it is,” Scully rambles.

“Mulder read it...?” Missy echoes. “He went in with you?”

“Uh-huh.” Scully’s immune to the usual implications of her sister’s curiosity. She’s had too much of a day to argue that Mulder isn’t as integral a part of her life as he is. “It was nice...I was happy not to be alone.”

“I’m sure,” Missy says, pouring the ravioli into a colander. “Mulder’s a good guy.”

“Mm-hm.” Scully chews the inside of her cheek. She can’t discern whether she’s failing to repress a feeling or experiencing one anew, but it’s in that ballpark.

Having put the pasta in a serving bowl, Missy spoons sauce over it like she’s auditioning for a cooking show. “There was an interesting voicemail on the machine when I got in,” she begins.

“Yeah? A telemarketer? Scammer?”

“I don’t think so. It’s odd, but it sounds quite urgent.”

Missy hits a button on the answering machine. A gruff voice fills the room. “Hello, this is Agent Feniston from the California Bureau of Investigation looking for a Ms. Scully. I am contacting you on behalf of the California Department of Social Services foster care system. Please get back to me as soon as possible at 619-555-1334. Thank you.”

It does sound legitimate, Scully can’t argue with that. She raises an eyebrow at her sister. “You were in California for a while, weren’t you?”

Missy pops a ravioli into her mouth, wipes some wandering sauce off her lip. “The Bay area, mostly,” she says between bites. “The 619 area code is--”

“San Diego. I remember, that’s what our number started with when we lived by the shipyard.”

Missy nods. “I know I’m considered the free spirit in this family, but no child of mine is running wild in California. Let’s clear that up right now,” she chuckles.

“I mean, we don’t have any details,” Scully says. “They probably just need you to testify whether some friend of yours is stable enough to resume custody of their child.”

“Does that sound like something that would warrant a call from the Bureau of Investigation? ” Missy challenges, scooping a hefty portion of pasta into a bowl and handing it to her sister.

Scully takes it and grabs a fork. “If they couldn’t find any other way to contact you.”

Missy stops, looks at her sister with a pointed glare.

“What?” Scully shrugs.

“Darling,” Missy continues, “no one I knew in California has this number, nor any way to determine that I’m living with you.”

Scully lifts the fork to her mouth, freezing before it makes it there. “You think the call is for me?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” she says, taking a seat across from her sister.

Scully scoffs. “I haven’t been to California in ages. There was a case in Marin County, but it’s been two years now.”

“That’s funny,” Missy muses. “I was living there then.”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Scully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not fond of having a random call from the California foster system on my answering machine.”

“Then call Agent Feniston back, and it won’t be random anymore.” Missy gets up, glances at the clock, and grabs the phone off its receiver. “It’s only 3:30 in Californiaaaaa,” she sing-songs, dangling it in front of her sister.

Scully pouts, but lets the weight of the phone rest in her hand. “Can you play the voicemail again? I need the number…”

Feniston addresses them for a second time, and Scully taps the keypad in concert with his directions: 619-555-1334.

[apsaraqueen]

what the body knows

A gift of smut and angst for the wonderful, magical @coppercrane2, one of the mods over at @ssminibang, and also? Very much one of my favorite people. I hope you enjoy this, Charlie!

title: what the body knows fandom: Sailor Moon characters/ships: Rei/Mars x reincarnated!Jadeite rating: R for explicit sexual content below the cut, along with canon and non-canon character death

“You just a little hungry, or,” he wonders, warm breath shivering across her breastbone, “you starving?”

what the body knows

…

In the windows the sky is thickly concrete, a fine film of drizzle that had gone all morning and kept them indoors, and perhaps it’s only because of a brief lull in its gentle rush against the roof that he can even hear her pause, sock–footed and quiet, on her way down the hall. Feet arrested on the threshold to the kitchen where he stands facing the sink. She listens to the ripe snap of his teeth, breaking the taut skin of a plum; the back of his hand abortively wiping juice from his chin as he turns partially around. Dim light silhouettes the edge of his jaw.

“Hey,” Junin says to her, mouth full, not even looking in her direction, “it’s getting late. Eat something.”

Sunday, and so far she’s spent it in the pantry, clearing out the back for the first time anyone’s done in – years. The smell of old crumbling contact paper lining the shelves, ringed with rusty stains from canned tuna, pineapples, curry, all with expiration dates embarrassingly long gone by. Twine, cracked soup bowls, aluminum foil, a casserole someone had gifted her (bizarrely) after the funeral. Other things. Packets of her grandfather’s aspartame, the mints he nibbled when his sugar slid, protein shakes with ingredients she still couldn’t pronounce. Milk protein concentrate, calcium caseinate, 1% or less of the following: inulin, cellulose gel, magnesium phosphate, artificial flavors. What does the body know, Rei thinks, recalling how she poured down the drain half-glasses of chocolate-flavored fluid while her grandfather dozed, his belly rejecting the decoy of sustenance, patiently eating itself down to something that could be lost or wander away, float off on a breeze. Into trash bags they all went, revealing space in the pantry like new skin. When she had emerged blinking into the hall even that darkening afternoon had seemed too bright. Now here she is – and here he is. In one hand the plum, in the other a bowl with a second one. Cut up how she liked, to keep her lip balm intact.

This was what stopped her short. How he would’ve had to have seen her pickily dicing her fruit like that; how alarming, to find herself the focus of such complete and close attention.

She’s already moving without conscious thought, hand on his arm, turning him. Rei gives him no chance to see her face. Her fingers climb the shaved sides of his head, taking the slightly grown-out hair atop for purchase; her eyes fall shut as her jaw cants up, triangulating from memory where his mouth is. His small surprised laugh is swallowed down her throat. “Rei.”

What does the body ask for? Under her palms the cord of his neck, his chest and stomach are all tangibilities, warm blood and muscle, and it feels, almost, as if she’s the one who might fly away. Months ago when he’d first reached for her she’d jumped back as if scorched; it had been so long since she felt another person’s skin. Now, she sucks his tongue from his mouth, sticky plum juice off his day-old beard. If she could she’d suck the air out of his lungs. She gets her hand in his briefs, around his cock, and he does not hesitate. The fruit goes rolling across the floor when he hoists her on the counter, accidentally dislodging her hand; there’s a brief struggle of crossing limbs, she straining for him as he steps between her legs, somehow both tugging down and rucking up her short dress. It’s faster than he usually moves, unlike him to accede to her impatience. He palms her breast in a rough squeeze, ducks his head to lick the nipple. Tiny hairs rise all over her skin. When she rubs her thumb over the wet tip of his cock he laughs and gasps both at once, and it’s so exactly what she’d wanted from him without needing to ask that closed, still, the corners of Rei’s eyes suddenly sting.

“You just a little hungry, or,” he wonders, warm breath shivering across her breastbone, “you starving?”

She wants to tell him, but what’s lodged in her gullet is an animal or the selfish type of spirit (her own) she read about in childhood, devouring whatever would come out, ravenous for anything coming in. So she tells him by doing, gets a brusquer hold on him, throttling down, the rough edge she’s learned he craves. When they’re like this he’s vocal but not about his desires; always they seem matched to hers, as if he’s afraid she’ll balk. I like everything you do to me. But what does the body want? Surely there are acts he had begged from others before her, as they kissed and touched skin and shed their clothes on the floor, acts he and she have yet to perform. Clear directives and not only suggestions found in the jump of his stomach, his head lolling back to the futon in lamp light, brow strained, almost as if he’s in pain. Maybe he is. Starving the same as her, desire tamped down inside. But in his presence it’s impossible to swallow her wants, hide or make them casual. As she beats Junin off, her hand sure in a way she does not feel, he drops his face in her chest, shuddering. His fingers insinuate themselves along her inner thigh, twist away her underwear. The tip of one dipping there, barely into her sex. Maybe he doesn’t realize. How much of him she would take.

The air in the kitchen feels heavy and cool, window cracked open (broken), all that unspent water loading the sky. In her ears is the hushed mix of their breaths and she finds herself counting his, noting each hitch, each sigh. Familiar. But Junin feels more solid than anyone she has held, hips digging into her thighs, width of his torso crowding her, his head tucked under her chin in the guarded apostrophe of her throat. She has an urge to take him further into herself somehow, a sentiment that feels protective but lacks the associated tenderness: selfish again, the frank way she would consume air or water, things the body needs. When he leaks a little the friction eases, so she grips harder to compensate, drags slow from root to tip. His answering groan is muffled into her sternum, a low, defenseless thing, and her mouth goes wet. A dozen unwired thoughts light up her mind at once. The noise her father made when the hospital called – Kaidou’s lips tensely closed under her own – Junin’s thumb stroking her throat as she kissed him, imbuing her with an odd, illogical sense of safety – the deep chill of her grandfather’s forehead the time she touched it last. Going out under the eaves this morning, looking at the sky, wondering if the drizzle was rain, really, or only mist. Putting out her palm to check as if this was a distinction that mattered. Sustenance, decoy.

What does the body know? Her eyelids flutter when Junin pushes two fingers into her, long and recurving like a bow, hooking at the place where she already feels something – not pleasure, not quite – starting to take form. Something stronger and less anodyne, like biting the inside of her cheek and tonguing the resulting wound: a sharp, dizzy sensation of brilliance, copper dissolving in her mouth. Something her body already knew for itself, what was asked for, wanted, needed. The first time he’d so much as touched her hand – that recognition – instant. In that moment she had understood what was known could never be unknown. But where did that leave her without him? The broad slope of Junin’s back encompasses her field of vision, the old gray college T-shirt in graying light, his shoulder moving up and down. Breaths burst from her in harsh little pants. He shifts into focus, making no attempt to delay or tease, working the tips of his fingers into that tenderness again and again with brutal efficiency. As if from someplace far away Rei hears herself whimper.

Junin kisses the divot of her collarbone. “You good?” he murmurs. His voice ragged. “You okay?”

The gentleness in his words calls up that thing in her gullet again, another pang of hunger, and she feels as if she’s being carved wide, skinned and left out open. Any moment he could glance up and witness her. The late day shines darkly through the windows, through the gleam of what could be rain or mist or nothing at all. Her skin feels like a bruise everywhere he’s against it, throbbing and too soft to be touched. Down where she’s holding him she can feel the trip of his pulse. What does the body know? The length of his cock overfills her small hand and she wonders if when they make love this will be enough to sate her. If anything is.

“I’m fine,” Rei tells him. She licks her lips, swallows. “Go harder.”

[x-ia-n]

━ sun&moon.

➞ including: kei tsukishima, gn!reader

overview: in which ❛your hearts are connected under the same sky.❜ ↦ sun&moon by nct127

word count: 4.3k

➼ haikyuu masterlist

↳ main masterlist

↦ fluff, tsuki is sometimes uncharacteristically soft, alcohol consumption [legal age!], timeskip

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

he always found it cute how deep your blush would get whenever he called you his star. even more so when he would refer to you as his sun. 

granted, you aren’t dating. just friends, best friends. best friends who knew each other since high school and kept in touch despite both your hectic schedules as university students. as you watch the snow gently falling through a window, you’re taken back to the memories, bitter and sweet, that come along with winter.

you start to remember your first heartbreak...

it didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening, as you barely held a smile when you walked in the gym. he saw the first signs of pain and disappointment flash through your eyes. he and yamaguchi excused themselves and walked you out the door, and you bursted into tears.

he let you cling onto him as you blabbered on about how the person you were dating dumped you out of nowhere; the freckled boy gently rubbing circles on your back. you went on for a few minutes, explaining everything to your two best friends. yamaguchi went back inside to get you some water when you finally calmed down. you lifted your head from the blond’s chest, sniffling slightly.

tsukishima is awkward when it comes to feelings in general, but that didn’t stop him from trying to comfort you after your break up. he draped his volleyball jacket over you, shielding your reddened and puffy face from others. tilting his head, he says, “you look like an idiot crying over someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate you.”

yamaguchi peered out the gym building doors to see you stare up at the blond like he hung the moon in the sky. he knew what you feel for tsukishima, and he made you aware that he was aware. he slowly closed the gym doors, trying not to make any noise, and politely asked yachi and the managers-in-training to subtly guard the door.

the freckled teen has been your biggest supporter from day one, and he’ll be damned if anything ruined this moment for you.

he found it cute how you would hide behind your hand whenever you’d try to reassure them both that you’re fine.

...and the first time you saw him shatter.

the whistle blew, and the cheer of the crowd nearly left you deaf. the crowd wasn’t cheering for them, though. karasuno lost an important game, and you saw the faces of the team, all looked so heartbroken. you couldn’t blame them, they worked so hard and-

if there’s one thing you take pride in, is knowing what either of your best friends are feeling. yamaguchi has tears in his eyes while tsukishima… his face is void of emotion, but you can see the pain and guilt flickering in his eyes. you can feel it in your gut that he’s blaming himself. 

you ran down the flight of stairs just in time to see the team exit into the main lobby. you glanced at your green haired friend first, who then nodded at you, telling you he was alright. you turned to tsukishima, and promptly held out a hand. he paused, his golden-brown eyes swept across your face then to your outstretched hand. you swear you could hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options. 

the blond gingerly took your hand in his and let you drag him somewhere secluded, somewhere you’re both positive no one would come across by accident. “it’s not your fault.” you said, slightly squeezing his hand. he was looking anywhere but you.

he sputtered out, “if i had blocked it properly then-” 

“you managed to slow it down, which gave karasuno a fighting chance. kei,” his eyes snapped up to meet yours, an unreadable expression graced his features. it was so uncommon for either of you to use each other’s birth names despite being so close. 

“kei, it’s not your fault.” your voice softened, and he felt his walls break. tears glistened his eyes, which he hastily blinked away. you slowly took off his glasses, hooked them at the collar of your shirt, and placed your free hand on the back of his neck. he dropped his head on the crook of your neck, and took a deep breath. 

one of the things he appreciated at that moment is how you never mentioned the tears you felt hit your skin, or the broken sobs you heard escape his lips. you didn’t even mention how he trembled in your arms as he let out his frustration, anger, guilt, pain—  his everything. you held him together as he slowly fell apart. “i’m sorry” he muttered.

you let out a chuckle. “if you’re apologizing for displaying emotions, i’m taking out your kneecaps.” 

you beamed a bright smile up at him as he pulled away. he let you clean his face with a handkerchief, and place his glasses back on his face for him. tsukishima ruffled your hair, and led you both back to the bus where the rest of the team were waiting for the both of you.

he found it cute how you tried extra hard to cheer him and yamaguchi up. that, and how you never pulled your hand away from his.

your mind drifted to the time you first felt your heart skip a beat because of him.

two of you were stupid and young, and you somehow managed to convince tsukishima to go on a little trip with you. it was spontaneous, and unfortunately, yamaguchi was sick, but he made you promise to buy everything that reminded you of him; not that he needed to, you were planning to do just that. you three have your licenses, but you decided to use tsukishima’s car as it was more spacious, leaving both of you a lot of room to lay back and sleep. 

you both didn’t have plans on where to go, your recklessness speaking to him that you both ‘should let fate decide where the road will take you’. 

the road led you to a small village, celebrating a local festival. you remember being so excited that you dragged him to every historical building, every booth that peaked your interest. a narrow stone path at the edge of the village led to a small flower field on a small cliff, one you took great pleasure in being. 

he picked a dainty, yellow flower and placed it in your ear. “there,” he whispers, and your breath catches in your throat. your heart is pounding in your ears as you silently prayed to any and every divine being that the moonlight is dim enough for the blush in your cheeks to go unnoticed. after what seems like both seconds and hours, he says the only thing that could ruin the moment.

“now the bees will go after you.”

you huffed out, hitting him in the arm as you hear him laugh. “i can’t believe you.” 

his laughter died down as he spots a firefly come towards you. he saw how your entire face brightened up as you watched the insect carefully, completely mesmerised as more flew around you. “hey, what do you think of me calling you ‘hotaru’ instead of ‘kei’?” 

“i would leave your ass here, and you can either walk home, or hitchhike.” tsukishima grumbles, but there was absolutely no malice or harshness in his voice; a tone he subconsciously reserves for you. he felt his heart stop at the sound of your laughter in his ears. 

“you wouldn’t dare, tsukishima kei.”

of course he wouldn’t leave one of his best friends, you both could say that in confidence, but something stirring in his chest tells him that there’s more than that reason.

the sound of fireworks interrupted both your thoughts, and it was then you’d realize you were staring at him for way too long. you turned your gaze to the firework display that the small village was putting on, but you ended up staring at the features of the blond next to you, who was too preoccupied with watching the show.

you took in every detail of his face, watching the contrast between the moonlight forming shadows on his face and the brief flashes of color illuminating and possibly even making some of his defining features pop out.

as the last of the fireworks died down, he grabbed your hand and let you back to the festival grounds where he bought you your favorite street food. he handed it to you while munching on his own, clearly showing you that he’s eating. you both picked out little trinkets for yourselves and yamaguchi, buying only a few; not wanting to  spend most of your money. a little firefly charm caught your eye, but decided against buying it.

hours later, you find yourself waking up in the passenger seat, the sunlight hitting your eyes not too harshly. you turned to the driver’s seat to see the blond groggily open his eyes. he reached out to grab his glasses from the dashboard and turned on the ignition. “let’s go home.” he says, before pulling out of the parking space. 

the ride was peaceful, you were singing your lungs out to the songs playing; the most you heard from tsukishima is him humming along. he stops by a food truck park on the road and tells you to grab a table while he parks the car. 

you sat at one of the many empty tables, pulling out your phone. it was seven in the morning on a sunday, normally, both of you would be well asleep at yamaguchi’s place on a normal day.

he jogged to the table and asked you for your order in a fashion a server would. you laughed at the obnoxious voice he made, and told him to get you whatever is cheap.

as he ordered at one of the trucks, you find yourself staring at him again. how royally fucked you are for falling for your best friend. he came back with a tray of two orders of pancakes, both drizzled in syrup with strawberries at the side and two glasses of juice. 

"don't think about paying me back." he says before you could even open your mouth, giving you a pointed look. there was no point in arguing with a tsukishima kei so early in the morning; you learned how stubborn he could be in one morning during your first year.

you ate breakfast, talking about the festival you both attended the night before, and caught up on each other's lives. it never did occur to either of you that this is the first time you hung out together without the presence of other people, yamaguchi included.

on the way back, you felt yourself succumb to sleep, your head leaning against the passenger side window. tsukishima kept stealing glances at you, and he will take this secret about what he feels for you to the grave; rather choosing to settle as friends than lose you forever. 

he found you gorgeous in the moonlight, but even more so in the sunlight.

you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. pulling it out, you see text messages from a certain green-haired friend of yours asking where you were. quickly typing a response, a smile tugging at your lips. it's been more than half a year since you saw tsukishima and yamaguchi, your conflicting schedules made it already hard to talk to each other, and sprinkle in the fact they're both in miyagi and you in tokyo.

you could still hear the fight you had during the first year you left miyagi.

"aren't you tired of this?" he asked.

you scoffed, your grip tightening around your phone. "i'm not the one picking a fight every call."

"you didn't have to leave miyagi. there's universities here that offer your course and-"

groaning, you argued. "there are better opportunities for me here in tokyo. it's not like i'm in another country, tsuki."

this particular fight went on for an hour, maybe two? you can't remember anymore. it was the same argument, over and over again. you know that your friend has major trust issues, and being one of the only people he can open up to, led him to be extremely attached and you fear that you leaving may result in some form of fear of abandonment. 

you didn't care anymore at this point. you're tired, stressed, and overall not in the mindset to speak to someone, especially someone who just picked fights with you since the start of the academic year. 

"just stop." you said, the other person on the other end of the line did, mostly because he has never heard that tone from you before.

you sighed, "i know, okay? you have to understand why i chose this, though… you know what? i'm tired, i'll just go to sleep. good night."

you hung up before he could get a word in. you hated fighting with him.

tsukishima stared at the phone in his hand, the realization that he may have fucked up whatever relationship you had. he didn't call you or message you back, but it's not because of pride. he knows if you're ready to talk, you will, but that didn't stop him from staring at his screen the entire time while waiting for you to reach out. he prayed that he didn't lose you just like that.

he didn't sleep a wink that night.

the train was nearing your stop, and a familiar sight out the window brought you back to a fond memory.

"star, hand that to me." tsukishima said, holding out his palm, looking at you expectantly. 

you were nearing graduation, and so you're helping him pack his stuff to move to an apartment that's closer to his university. you stuttered, "star?" 

he blinked slowly, as if he's processing what he just said, but nodded, "yeah, star. or would you rather have me call you ‘sun’?"

you handed him what he was asking for, a grin plastered on your face. "uh, where did that come from?" you asked, genuinely curious about his new nickname for you.

the blond shrugged, turning away from you, silently hoping you won’t see how red his face is. "only fair since you call me 'tsuki'. and i'd rather have you call me 'tsuki' than 'hotaru', which is by the way, an incorrect way-"

he was cut off by you asking a question he never expected from you.

"can i give you a hug?"

you sounded so shy about it as well. he swears he almost feels his heart burst out of his chest. seeing him nod, you launched yourself to him, arms around his torso and your face buried in his back. 

what a shame you both couldn't see how red the other is.

like a scene from a movie, the moment was interrupted as akiteru knocked on the door, briefly asking if both of you needed help. you detached yourself and politely told the older tsukishima that both of you were fine, and that you'd call him if you ever need help.

as you faced him, the blond practically shoved a little jewelry bag in your hands, telling you to open it. you've always had a knack for accessories, so you excitedly open the bag to see a familiar firefly charm.

"is this-"

"the one at the festival? yeah." he rubbed the back of his neck. "i saw you staring at it, so i thought why not give it to you as a reminder of the festival and a graduation gift."

oh, your poor heart didn't know how to function. 

tsukishima saw your reaction, and you didn't have to worry about any feelings you can't express. for the first time since you met, he was the one to initiate a hug. you felt his arms wrap around your torso, and you melted into his embrace. 

he smelt like home. he felt like home.

“tsuki? i think i like ‘sun’ more.” your voice was gentle, and muffled as your face was against his chest.

he found it cute how despite being friends for so long, you still ask him if he's comfortable with skinship. he's learning, don't worry.

you found yourself, standing on the sidewalk, taking in how different miyagi seemed to look. you gave a cab driver tsukishima's address, as he's the one that hosts you whenever you visit. you entered the building and went up the stairs to his floor. you knew where the spare key is, so you don't have to worry about having to call yamaguchi to let you in. the apartment sounded empty, only the creak of the front door was heard as it echoed against the walls. 

you locked the door behind you as you took off your shoes, leaving them at a shoe shelf you made for the tall blond. despite living in tokyo, you basically live in his guest room, seeing how you already have clothes in the closets. you set your bags in the room and settled down on the couch as you sent a text message to yamaguchi.

you fiddled with the charm in your bracelet as you read his text. 

'your loverboy and i are on the way back to the apartment.' it says.

—

tsukishima prided himself in reading people, and he could read his friend walking beside him. it is painfully obvious that he's hiding something.

"don't tell me you proposed to yachi without telling me." he said in a teasing manner, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he glanced at yamaguchi. the poor guy almost tripped on his two feet. “tsukki! no, i haven’t. and if i did, you’d be the first one to know.”

they continued to walk down the familiar path leading to tsukishima’s apartment, their arms carrying bags of groceries.

“tsuki!” he heard from behind; he braced himself before you launched yourself on his back. he hooked his arms under your legs and continued to walk while giving you a piggyback ride. tsukishima could see your face in his peripheral vision as you propped your head on top of his shoulder. 

“i bought strawberries.” you said, your breath colliding with the cold winter air produced fog. that fogged up his glasses. you noticed and started laughing, slightly blowing cool air on his glasses to lessen the fogging. he could smell faint traces of hot chocolate in your breath.

he continued carrying you to his apartment complex, where he set you down upon arriving. you tugged at his sleeve, dragging him up the stairs and taking the spare key from where it’s hidden. you went on and on about how you’re going to make the best strawberry shortcake he’s ever had, that you gained favors from people you met at university to help you in making a recipe.

you took over his kitchen that day, only letting him do simple tasks like sifting the ingredients, or preheating the oven. you beamed as you presented the final product to him, gently holding the plate between your hands. tsukishima saw how your eyes sparkled underneath the kitchen lights.

you also took over his heart, unknowingly holding it in your hands.

he found it cute how you get excited about the small things in life. 

“tsuki!” his eyes widened as he saw you standing in his living room, your smile as bright as he’d always remember. the blond didn’t even think twice and set the bags on the floor before enveloping you in a tight hug. he felt another person’s warmth, knowing full well you pulled in yamaguchi into the hug.

you released them from your hug as you said, “i can’t believe it’s been so long.” 

“that’s because of your busy schedule.” the freckled man flicked your forehead. you felt his piercing gaze at you, and he hasn’t even said a word.

“well, sunshine, when did you get here? why didn’t you call either of us to pick you up?” he nagged, but all you could feel was your heart stuttering in your chest at the nickname he rarely used for you. 

you babbled on about when you got here and why you didn’t tell him (he gave yamaguchi a look after hearing that he knew you were coming) as you made yourself feel at home. and you are home.

yamaguchi will never tell anyone how you looked at the blond with stars in your eyes, or how tsukishima looked at you like you are the light of his life.

the two men aided you in making your shortcake, with them doing the more tiresome tasks. the comfort of each other's presence in tsukishima's small kitchen is enough for all three of you.

you decided to watch a movie while waiting for the cake to cool down. the younger male excused himself as his phone started to ring in the middle of the first half, leaving you and the blond in the living room. he peeked back in a few minutes later, informing you both that his girlfriend needs to get picked up.

you felt your heart race as you continued to watch the movie, the literal love of your life just within arms reach. he looped his arm around your shoulder, your breath stuttering. tsukishima then retracted his arm, now holding the bowl of popcorn. "why're you red, star?" he asked in a teasing manner.

as you struggle to give a response, the middle blocker is internally beating himself up. he chickened out on actually putting his arm around you. to ease the tension, he suggested, "i'll go get the karaoke machine."

your eyes shined as you nodded, offering to clean up as he set up the machine. you grabbed two bottles of beer from his fridge, handing him one. you settled back on the couch as you twisted off the bottle cap. 

one bottle became two, then three, and you lost count as you both drunkenly sang to cheesy love songs. one caught your eye in particular, and you almost kneeled down trying to convince the blond.

"please~ come on, tsuki! kei, please!" you dramatically begged, shaking him back and forth. you peered up at him with the biggest, saddest eyes you could muster, and pouted. "i won't even take a video! it'll be our little secret." you promised, raising three fingers with your right hand and placing your left on your chest.

he clicked his tongue at you. "i'm only doing this because you're cute."

neither of you could tell if the red in both your faces is because of the alcohol or because of the blood that flushed your cheeks. you broke eye contact first, clearing your throat. grinning at him, you punched in the code, hearing the starting notes of the song 'because i am with you'. 

he grumbled in annoyance, but the look in his eyes showed he isn't bothered by singing in your presence in the slightest. when he starts singing, tsukishima is staring intently at you, eyes drifting everywhere from your eyes, your lips, your nose. you couldn't help but feel that he's actually serenading you. 

every time the chorus comes on, he stares deep into your eyes, as if trying to tell you something. he uses his other hand to cup your cheek as he sings the final lines.

"i really love you for the rest of my life," his voice lowers at the last three words as the instrumental slowly fades. "be with me." 

his golden eyes drifted to your lips. "stop me if i'm reading this wrong."

you didn't, and tsukishima gladly took that as an invitation. he sets down the microphone before he leans down and presses his lips against yours briefly before pulling away. he saw that there wasn't any sign of protest in your expression, and kissed you once more, both your eyes closing.

your hands rested around his nape, pulling him impossibly closer to you. his free hand is placed on the side of your hip, the one cupping your jaw pulling you into him.

pulling away for breath, you open your eyes to see his own fixated on you.

he paused for a moment. “you are actually the sky to my moon— no, the sky, the stars, and the sun to my moon. i’d be incredibly lucky if you loved me half as much as i love you.” 

time stops for you. the one you have loved— the one you'd always love, just told you he feels the same way. tears made their way to your eyes as you asked him a simple question. “since when?”

he chuckled, “since that little festival we went to.”

“so you’re telling me,” you started, rising from the couch and standing in front of him. “we fell for each other at the same time?”

tsukishima blinked. 

gears were turning in his head at rapid speeds as his tipsy brain tries to process what you just told him. “you… feel the same way?” he asks in shock, his voice soft. the expression on his features showed you that he wasn’t expecting this in the slightest.

before you could ramble on what you do love about him, he stands on his feet and engulfs you in a hug, slightly picking you up. when he sets you down, the sparkles in his eyes are undeniably bright.

“i can’t believe it. sunshine, all this time? i mean, i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship and—”

you shut him up with a peck, and he malfunctions then and there. 

you ask, “what does this make us?”

he tilts his head. “well, now we’re basically in a relationship, but we’ll take it one step at a time. whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

when his moon rises, your sun rises as well under the same sky. 

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