#the tilted familiarity the taste of something almost like nostalgia

[emmaspolaroid]

(head in my hands) post canon noremma

[practically-an-x-man]

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

[shining-gem34]

💗 to pull Dan Heng into a sudden hug and hold them tight, refusing to let go // baba hugs....

💗 Accepted! @etherealguard

||Following this wonderful heart-breaking IL and child Dan Heng blog by Luna (featuring small Dan Heng still)

Warning: Prisoner Dan Heng, Angst, and implied bad treatment to Dan Heng (not much to say here but better safe than sorry)

With every book Dan Heng read, his curiosity for the world outside his prison grows.

Was it true that the Xianzhou Luofu is a giant ship sailing through the stars? Was it true there is a planet covered in frost? What was frost and snow like anyway? Was it colder than the Shackling prison? What was the sun like? Was it warmer than the guard's hand that backhanded his face?

What did it mean to have family and friends coming together to celebrate the festivities?

He dares not to ask his guards. They expressed their desire to avoid him as much as possible within their duties. This includes keeping any conversations from little to none. If Dan Heng tries to ask, he is told be to silent or he receives no answers.

More than his curiosity, the loneliness of his prison gnaws at him.

When it was time to sleep, Dan Heng closes his eyes and empty his mind. He hopes that he dreams of a hollow world instead of the usual nightmares that haunt him.

Upon opening his eyes, he is pleasantly surprised to find himself surrounded by bright lights dotting the dark skies. The voices of people talking around him are overwhelming. The sizzling of something brings a strange smell that tickles his nose. Dan Heng, for his young mind, is understandably confused about whether or not he's in a dream.

Uncertain of where to go, Dan Heng starts walking in front of him. He's careful to not bump into anyone, cradling his tail to his chest to prevent it from being stepped on. Scared and nervous, he yelps when he's nearly run over by a wood cart rushing down the street.

Stumbling backward, he almost fell to the ground if not for a pair of hands grabbing his shoulders. Curious, Dan Heng tilts his head up to see his savior and his eyes widened.

A beautiful man with hair dark as the ocean is dressed in white and green. There is an odd air about him, but Dan Heng's attention is on the pair of azure horns sitting on the crown of his head- Just like him. He looks stiff like those old men with long ears who look down at him in disdain.

But his teal eyes are gentle, crinkling a little as he smiles faintly.

"Are you alright, hatchling?" He asks, shifting to one knee to look at him properly.

Dan Heng turns around and nodded at him. Then his eyes catch the long azure tail swishing behind him, "You have a tail, Mister."

"I do." The man chuckles, tapping his nose lightly. "My name isn't Mister, Dan Heng."

"Then...What is it then?" Dan Heng asks, not noticing how the man knows his name.

"Hm. You may call me Yinyue Jun...Or Yinyue for short."

"Yinyue...Yinyue. Okay. Thank you, Mister Yinyue!" He wonders why that name sounds familiar, or why it reverberates within him so deeply.

It's as if someone threw a pebble into the water, disturbing the calm water surface and creating a rippling effect- stirring his soul with a feeling of nostalgia.

"Mister...Well, I'll allow it for the time being. Come along, my pearl. There are many, many entertainments you must see before you wake up." Yinyue Jun offers his hand for him to take. He waits for the hatchling to decide before he takes his hand. Smiling, he holds his hand and leads him to the many stalls surrounding them.

How strange, Dan Heng thinks.

This is a dream yet he can taste the spices of the salty meat skewers, the sourness of the orange tanghulu, the sweetness of almond tofu, the bitterness of the tea, and so much more flavors. They were vibrant and colorful, unlike the tasteless meals the guards gave him.

More importantly, Yinyue Jun is patient enough to answer his questions. Not just the festival food stalls and games around him, but anything that comes to mind. Even if Yinyue Jun doesn't know the answer, that was alright with Dan Heng. He likes the older man already for tolerating him enough.

"Silly child, I do not tolerate you- I like you. There's a difference." Yinyue Jun explains, leading the hatchling to see the lanterns at the harbor.

"You do, Mister?" Dan Heng's voice is full of awe that someone actually likes him. He turns crestfallen, staring at his feet, and adds quietly, "But...No one there likes me. I don't know what I did wrong, but I did something wrong."

Then, Yinyue Jun stops and so does Dan Heng who looks at him in question.

Suddenly, he sinks to his knees again to meet Dan Heng's eyes. His breath hitches seeing the pained expression on Yinyue Jun's face. A startling contrast to his calm facade and small smiles from earlier. Yinyue Jun reaches out to hug him tightly to his chest, and Dan Heng can feel his trembling. Slowly, he raises his small hands to grip the older man's robe and return the gesture.

"My pearl- Dan Heng, you won't remember then, and you won't remember now." Yinyue Jun whispers, nuzzling their cheeks together.

One day, you'll understand why our homeland shuns you. You may grow to resent me because it is my crimes that have placed you in that horrible prison. But that's fine with me- I'll bear the brunt of your hatred and the hatred of our people.

However, my wish for you remains the same: For you to be happy. Whatever trials you may face, both sorrow and joy, you'll grow stronger and wiser than me. You'll find your family and friends, and you will finally find a place to call home in this vast universe.

Until then, this dream is but a temporary respite during your long imprisonment.

"You are very much loved, my pearl. I love you." Yinyue Jun pulls, keeping his hands on Dan Heng's shoulders. He pats his head affectionately and adds, "I hope you'll meet the people who will treasure you just like me."

Dan Heng scrutinizes the older man as if trying to identify any falsehoods in his statement. When he finds none, he blinks and tilts his head. He's not sure how to process this information except...

His chest feels warmer like cotton candy; fluffy and sweet.

"Oh..."

Yinyue Jun smiles at that and reassures, "You don't need to think too hard about it, my pearl. Just have fun for now. Look, the fireworks are starting."

Shortly after he said that Dan Heng turn his head to the cheers of the people as a loud boom resounds throughout the skies. An explosion of colorful light brightens the night skies. So many lanterns are floating upwards, and Dan Heng wanted to join them.

"Here." Yinyue Jun conveniently hands him a lantern. He's holding his own lantern as well. "Make a wish, Dan Heng. Then let go of it and watch."

A wish?

Dan Heng didn't know what to wish for when he had so many things he wanted to do in life. For now though...

I wish this moment can last forever!

They both released their lantern at the same time. Watching as it joined the many others in the air, Dan Heng is suddenly grabbed by the armpits and lifted. Immediately, he grabs Yinyue Jun's neck to stay steady. His eyes go wide in wonder that he can see almost everything beautiful at this height.

The tall hills in the distance, the shining of the ocean beyond the harbor, and so many boats docked nearby. It was like in his books!

"...Mister Yinyue."

"Yes, my pearl?"

He looks at the older man with the biggest smile on his face and said, "Thank you for showing me a wonderful dream!"

Yinyue Jun blinks before he smiles fondly and kisses the crown of his head, "I'm pleased you enjoyed yourself, Dan Heng. Thank you for being here with me."

"But it's time to wake up..."

The loud banging of the guards hitting the iron bars startles him awake. Dan Heng sits up, mind still processing his surroundings after a restful slumber. He sees a guard standing at the door holding a tray of food.

"...Breakfast. Hurry up and eat."

Then they roughly put the tray on the ground, the bowls and chopsticks almost falling everywhere. They left quickly, expecting the prisoner to be done eating once they come back.

Sighing heavily, Dan Heng slowly moves to grab his food and begins eating. The sooner he finishes, the less likely they'll take back his tray of unfinished food.

"...The taste isn't the same." Dan Heng mumbles, but he blinks in confusion.

The same as what? He only had food the guards provided.

How strange, what did he dream about last night?

He shrugs it off as unimportant. The same as every other night that he didn't experience a nightmare.

But then, why did his chest feel hollow?

"Ah..." Dan Heng feels wetness running down his cheeks.

Why is he shedding tears for no reason?

[aizawaorkuroo]

Seek the Light

Ship: Ukai Keishin x f!reader

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 8.4K

Summary: Back home after losing your job, you wander into a convenience store not realizing you would see a familiar face.

Warnings: Young Ukai’s a bitch, Language, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, Size Kink (I know this man has a bick dick I know he does), Overstimulation, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Dom!Ukai

AN: first haikyuu fic haha and first time writing ukai so im still figuring it out! This one got away from me gsfda and the conflict resolved easily cause its my fic and i make the rules tgerfw

________________________

The dipping summer sun casts shadows across the buildings, while painting the clouds a pretty gold. Memories of childhood and youth flood into you, creating a fondness in your heart. Yes, Miyagi was nice. It would be nicer if you didn’t have to move back home after losing your job in Tokyo. You can tell yourself it’s temporary all you want, but it’s embarrassing. Failing is embarrassing.

You sigh, realizing you should probably head back home before it gets too dark. Despite the setting sun, the air has yet to cool off, and you find that your walk has left your throat parched. You glance around, smiling as you spot a convenience store. Nice.

You smile as the air conditioning hits your skin. You make a beeline for a bottled tea, already excited for the refreshing taste. You hum happily as your eyes tilt up to the man behind the register. His eyes are glued to an issue of something, and a cigarette dangles from his lips. Ukai Keishin.

You feel your heart stutter as you watch your best friend from high school read. His hair is long and blonde now, and it just makes sense. He’s handsome, you realize. You always thought he was cute in high school, but he’s a man now.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, drawing the gaze of the man sitting behind the counter. His eyes widen, recognition clear as day in them.

“Y/N?” His voice is unusually quiet, and his eyes bore into yours, as if you would disappear again if he looked away. Guilt swells uncomfortably in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to him in years. You moved away, and you lost touch with your high school friends, including him. Especially him. He slowly stands to look at you, putting what he was reading down and shoving his cigarette into an ashtray.

Yes, you had been gone for awhile, and yes, the two of you hadn’t talked. But you were both here now, and a second chance has been given to you, wrapped up like a present in the form of a stunned employee at a convenience store.

“Ukai! I forgot this was your mom’s place!” you yell excitedly, rushing behind the counter to trap him in a tight hug. He huffs against you, tensing, before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His words stir something hot and sticky in you, and you push away from him, sheepishly smiling.

“I lost my job and couldn’t find another one in time, and uh, here I am.” Your nose scrunches up at the thought of your tiny, Tokyo apartment that you would never return to.

“No shit, huh? Are you back with your parents?” Your shoulders sag and you nod, pursing your lips.

“Yea, but what have you been up to?” you ask, eager to learn more about your old friend.

“Y’know, working here, hanging out with Shimada and Takinoue. I’ve also been coaching Karasuno’s volleyball team. They’ll sometimes stop by.”

“Oh that’s absolutely perfect,” you laugh. “My volleyball boys never grew up, huh?” He rolls his eyes at you, crossing his arms in feigned annoyance. You hold your hands up in peace, trying to suppress the giggle that’s bubbling in your chest.

“Well, you clearly grew up,” you offer, letting your eyes trail over him. His eyes widen again, and a faint blush covers his cheeks, so soft you almost don’t notice it. “But you’re still reading the same shit.” He lightly punches your arm, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Anyways, the four of us should get dinner sometime.” You cock your head to the side, trying to gauge his reaction. He snorts and rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile on his face. That's promising, you muse to yourself.

“Yea, that sounds good. And I’m sure Shimada and Takinoue will say yes. I can text you when we’re able to.” He pauses, and his eyes drop to the ground. Your stomach twists into knots as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “Is your number still the same?” It’s an innocent question, and yet you feel like the floor has dropped from beneath you, leaving you unbalanced.

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur, feeling guilty when he nods and presses his lips into a thin line.

“It was good seeing you, Y/N. I’ll text you.” You nod, slowly backing up to the door. You give him a small wave before pushing the door open, stepping back out into the warm air. Your body moves on autopilot while your brain goes into overdrive as you ponder how you can properly mend the bridge between you two.

It’s only when you’re halfway home that you realize you forgot your tea.

________________________

When Ukai texts you, you can’t help but to cringe at the past messages that were left unanswered. Random little texts, asking about your day, how’s Tokyo, updating you on everyone back home. You had meant to answer them, but you just couldn’t. You could pinpoint the moment you stopped answering his messages, and you shudder, remembering how harsh he had sounded over the phone. Not that you had been any kinder. After that night, his texts trickled in slower and slower, until they ended completely.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes. But you’re back now, and he’s texting you again. You blink your eyes open, rereading his message.

Hey! How does Saturday at 8 work?

Taking a shaky breath you quickly type out a response that you hope isn’t too eager.

That sounds great! Is that one place with the great hiyashi chuka place still open?

The four of you used to eat there in the summertime, feasting on cold ramen and an assortment of toppings. Takinoue used to flirt with the waitress, who remained unimpressed throughout the years. You smile fondly at the memory, excited to see everyone again. Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your thoughts.

Yea and it’s still the only hiyashi chuka place in town

You hum at his message, thinking of how long the four of you used to wait while the summer sun blazed down, and sometimes Kimi would go with you. She had a massive crush on Shimada, one that left her helpless to your and Takinoue’s teasing. Your phone buzzes again, and you look down, slightly surprised at the second message.

I’m excited to see you again.

That was promising indeed.

And yet you can’t help the way butterflies terrorize your stomach as you stand outside the old restaurant. Part of you wants to turn around and walk home; another part of you wants to throw up. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and you walk through the door.

It’s just like you remember, and you feel more at ease. You know this place, and these are your friends. There was no reason to worry. But still…

Your eyes flash across the room, before zeroing in on your usual table. You grin widely at Takinoue who is waving you down. Shimada sits next to him, smiling softly as you approach. Immediately, Takinoue gives you a bear hug, making you giggle.

“It’s been way too long,” he whines before letting you go. Shimada rolls his eyes, offering you a small wave. You slip into the empty seat next to Ukai, greeting him quietly. He nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The nerves that had been eating away at you dissipate immediately. The conversation flows easy, as if you never left. And when the hiyashi chuka is brought out, your mouth waters just like it used to.

“I’m telling you, it’s not as good anywhere else,” you bemoan. Shimada laughs at that, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I think that’s nostalgia talking.” You stick your tongue out before shoveling noodles back into your mouth. Ukai snorts, before taking a sip of his beer. Something warm and soft builds up in your heart, spilling out into your entire body.

Happily full of noodles, you settle back against your chair, trying to ignore the way Ukai’s arm rests against the back of your chair. His touch is feather light, but the warmth seeps into you. You missed this, you missed this, you missed him.

When the four of you are standing outside, you shift on your feet, not wanting to have to say goodbye again.

“We should get drinks sometime,” you say to no one in particular. Takinoue slings an arm over your shoulder and his grin is so wide that alone almost makes you laugh.

“Ah yeah! Now you’re talking, Y/N!”

“That is something we can all do together now,” Ukai mumbles, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.

“Then it’s settled,” you chirp happily, “We’ll meet up for drinks next weekend, if that’s okay with you guys.” Ukai’s eyebrows pinch together in thought, and he slowly nods.

“That should work.” You pull away from Takinoue, choosing to wrap an arm around Ukai’s waist, and pulling yourself flush against him.

“Perfect! It’ll be nice to get out of the house before I move into my new apartment.” Ukai rolls his eyes, but drapes his arm across your shoulders anyways. You try not to notice the way his thumb lightly strokes your arm.

________________________

The lights in the bar are dim, and you’re sipping on a lemon sour, nestled into the booth next to Ukai. Beers litter the table, as well as small dishes of food, and some shots you all have yet to drink. Takinoue’s cackle barrels through the air as you offer up another idea.

“No, I’m serious! We could all get dinner! I’m sure my parents would be happy to see you guys again.” Ukai scoffs, crossing his arms and fixing you with a pointed look.

“Please, your parents hate us,” he grumbles. A laugh bubbles through you, and you shake your head.

“They did not!” you promise, but your words sound hollow even to yourself.

Takinoue’s eyebrow quirks up in disbelief. Your lips twist into a grimace, memories of your parents looking tired whenever the boys dropped you off at home. “Okay, maybe they did, but ONLY when my grades would start slipping.” Shimada nods at your words.

“Yea, that sounds right,” he says solemnly. You pout at his calm and unsurprised tone.

“I promise they loved you guys. Just like I know your granddad loved me,” you giggle, poking at Ukai’s side. He rolls his eyes, and he downs his shot.

“Please, like that man likes anyone,” he grumbles. You stick your tongue out at him, and punch his arm lightly.

“Alright, but I got you through high school, so he has to like me” you counter, mouth twisting into a smirk. Ukai glares at you, memories of late night study sessions, and rushed homework help before class flood his mind. His shoulders sag, and he lets out a sigh.

“That’s fair I guess. Gotta piss. I’ll be back.” He pushes out of the booth, leaving you with Takinoue and Shimada. Shimada smiles softly, before fixing his gaze on you.

“Kimi was in Tokyo too, right? Have you seen her at all?” he asks. You grin, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yea, we actually got lunch the day before I moved.” You pause, eyeing him carefully before continuing. “Shimada, did you know she had the biggest crush on you in high school?” He blushes a bright crimson, choking on his drink as Takinoue cackles.

“Yea, dumbass. It was obvious.” Shimada glares at him, nursing his beer.

“Well, I clearly didn’t know. And no one thought to tell me?” You shrugged, shooting him an apologetic smile. Takinoue punches him arm affectionately, before his eyes settle on you, full of humor and mirth.

“Speaking of crushes, I was wondering how Ukai would be since you got back,” Takinoue laughs.

“What?” Despite the drinks you’ve had, you feel sober, something cold slinking down your back.

“He was head over heels for you back in the day,” Takinoue’s laughs die down, but he doesn’t seem to notice the way you freeze. Shimada, on the other hand, does, and he cocks his head to the side, monitoring your response.

You sputter, words locked in your throat. What they hopefully don’t know is that you had a massive crush on him too, and it’s only resurfaced violently since seeing him again. Even after what had happened. And yet that cold feeling heats up into something syrupy in the pit of your stomach.

“Well that’s news to me,” you say softly. “Guess I fucked it all up, huh?” Shimada and Takinoue exchange a glance, and you’re sure one of them is gonna say something, but when Ukai slips back into the booth that door shuts, locking their words on the other side.

“What’d you fuck up?” he asks, taking a swig of the beer he had left on the table.

“Ah you know, the usual. My life in Tokyo. And now I’m back with my parents. I did find a job though.” Shimada’s brows furrow, but he says nothing. Ukai hums, his thigh jostling against yours.

“Aren't you at your new place yet?” Your face twists in annoyance, and your head hits the back of the booth.

“I’m gonna have to stay with my parents for a few more days because a pipe apparently burst in my apartment. But I’m going to lose it. I can’t live with them anymore. Not at my age…” you trail off, lost in your thoughts.

“Stay with me. Until you can move in.” 

Ukai’s voice cuts through the noisy bar, and you open your mouth stupidly, no words coming out. He stares back at you, making the butterflies that had been dormant for awhile snap back to life inside of you. He scratches at the side of his face, making pathetic attempts to backtrack. “I mean you don’t have to, and I won’t be there for a bit cause of training camp-”

“No, that sounds good.” You nod at him, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Yea, that sounds good.” His eyes lock onto yours, something dark and undefinable in them. Neither of you notice the coy look Shimada and Takinoue share.

________________________

The hot water streams around you, and you shut your eyes, relishing the way it feels on your skin. You had a long day at your new job, and the approaching weekend was the only thing keeping you going. Well, that and the fact that you were currently in Ukai’s shower.

He had been kind enough to offer you a place to stay, and already your thoughts are starting to drift to darker places. You had harbored a crush on him when you were younger, but you haven’t seen him in years. And yet the way he looked at you made your stomach drop.

You turn the water off, the cold air plucking at your skin and making you shiver. You wrap a towel around yourself, and dry off quickly, trying to forget about the ache in between your legs. It doesn’t work, but you pull on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt anyways. You could at least pretend it worked.

Ukai’s apartment was exactly what you expected. The walls were littered with posters, books lay all over the ground, and there was a volleyball by the TV. He had rubbed the back of his neck, almost embarrassed when you first got there.

“It’s, uh, not much. Probably should’ve thought about that before I offered, but make yourself at home,” he mutters.

You had reassured him it was more than enough. You were just grateful to be out of your parents' house. You pad over to his spot near the tv, kneeling next to him. He eyes you from his peripheral, not looking directly at you. Nonetheless, it makes you shiver.

“Where should I sleep?” you ask, playing with the hem of his shirt. He nods his head back to the bed, and you flush.

“I can’t take your bed,” you sputter, stomach flipping. He rolls his eyes, a sharp smirk pulling at his lips.

“I gotta leave in the middle of the fucking night for training camp, remember? Take the bed.” His tone leaves no room for any argument, and you nod shyly, before shuffling over to his bed. He refocuses on the game he was watching as you pull the covers around you.

But you can’t sleep. Not when Ukai is so close to you. You flip onto your stomach and huff. He glances at you from over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. He shifts to the side, allowing you to watch the game from your vantage point.

You recognize the Karasuno uniforms, and something syrupy and nostalgic floods your veins. This must be the new team. The two of you stay quiet, the two of you lost in your own thoughts.

It’s only when the noise from the TV stops that you’re jolted back to reality. Ukai’s hand grips the remote tightly, face screwed up unpleasantly.

“Why did you stop talking to me?”

The words ring around his apartment, crystalizing into the air, becoming frigid and uncomfortable. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your head rest against his pillow. When you open them again, he’s turned towards you, brows pinched and mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I didn’t-” you cut yourself off, pushing yourself up to your knees. “I didn’t mean to.” You hold a hand up to him, stopping his oncoming argument. “I wanted to, and I wanted to pretend like everything was okay, but how could I?” His frown deepens, but he stays silent, memories seeping uncomfortably into the air.

“Keishin,” you hissed into the phone. “Let it go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? How could you be so stupid?” Your stomach drops at his words, but more than anything, you’re upset.

“I am not the stupid one. I’m the one who made it out of Miyagi. I’m the one who’s going to college.” You hear him inhale sharply, and you can practically imagine the way his eyes are narrowed right now.

“Right, right, right. And you’re also the one who’s sleeping with some asshole, who is way too old for you, and he’s just gonna forget you once he’s bored! If that’s not what a stupid little girl does, you tell me what it is! I’m trying to watch out for you!” he practically yells. You feel the oncoming tears sting the back of your eyes, but there’s something red-hot pushing you forward.

“Fuck you, Ukai. I actually found someone who likes me for once, you have to ruin it. I’m not a kid. You don’t know shit about my life here, and you hate it. If you cared so much, you could’ve asked me to stay. Fuck you.” He swears angrily at you, before the line drops. You stare at your phone, waves of nausea passing over you.

A week later he sends you a text, complaining about his grandfather, and telling you about something stupid Takinoue did. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. His texts eventually slowed down, until he didn’t text you at all.

You shudder slightly at the memory, letting your eyes drop to the floor.

“You acted like nothing had happened, but I was still mad, and by the time I had calmed down, I thought you would hate me for not talking to you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, chewing on your lip. “And you were right by the way, about that guy,” you spit out. “The second someone prettier came along, he dropped me.”

When you flick your eyes up, Ukai’s jaw is tense, his brows furrowed. You dig your nails into your arm, inhaling sharply.

“Fuck, I wish I had been wrong,” he seethes. Your eyes widen, not expecting him to say that. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what you had expected him to say. “You deserve the world, Y/N. More than that piece of shit. More than Miyagi.” His words are colored with bitterness that makes your stomach curdle.

“That’s why I could never ask you to stay. You were supposed to get out of here.” Ukai’s gaze bores into you, the intensity of it giving you whiplash. Your heart melts at his words, and you can’t help but to feel regret for not trying to work things out back in the day.

“And I ended up back here anyways,” you mutter.

“Well, Miyagi has some perks,” he laughs, an easy smirk tugging at his mouth. You cock your head to the side, snorting in disbelief.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“It’s got you now,” Ukai says lazily, while stretching his arms above his head.

Your heart swells in your chest, and you lunge towards him, wrapping your arms around him. He’s tense beneath you, but relaxes under your soft touches.

“I missed you, Kei,” you say gently. His arms drop to hold you to him, eyes closing as he basks in your attention.

“I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I tried to pretend like nothing happened. I’m pissed that you weren’t in my life, but that was my fault. And now that you’re here...don’t think you’re escaping that easy again.” You nod, and something hot stings the back of your eyes.

“I’m not,” you say gently. “I’m not gonna disappear again. I promise. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you.”

“Okay. Now get some sleep.” His arms loosen around you, and you slump away from him. As you shift back into the bed, Ukai faces the TV, playing it and lowering the volume until it’s just white noise to your sleepy mind. With that, you lie down again, letting your eyes shut and the warmth of sleep overtake you.

Ukai is drawn back into the game, but your words linger in the air. You’re my best friend, Keishin. I missed you. He glances back at you, bitterness eating away at his stomach. He wants to be more than just your best friend. 

He fixes his gaze on the TV, trying to shove those thoughts somewhere deep and dark. Eventually, when he looks at the time, he scowls realizing he’s gotta head out now. Letting out a sigh, he turns to face you again.

His heart tugs at how you’re curled up in his bed so sweetly. Guilt settles in his stomach at the thought of waking you at this hour, but he had to make sure you would be okay. His hand hovers above your shoulder, and he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. You belong here. With him. He shakes his head, banishing the thought. Ukai gently shakes you, watching as you rub your eyes and blink sluggishly at him.

“Sorry to wake you, but I’m heading out for the camp now. The keys are on the counter. Stay as long as you need to, just make sure to lock up.” You hum at his words, nestling back into his pillow and shutting your eyes.

“Okay, Keishin. Love you. Have fun,” you murmur, before drifting back to sleep. He inhales sharply, eyes boring into your sleeping face. He scoffs to himself, shaking his head. You probably wouldn’t even remember you said that when you woke up. And yet…

Ukai shifts on his knees closer to your sleeping form. He ducks down, letting his lips hover over your forehead. He gently kisses your temple, while simultaneously trying to squash the warm feelings that flow through him. He pulls away quickly, the small peck only lasting a second or two, but his lips burn now, and all he wants to do is curl around you and hold you in his arms.

The thought rushes through him like cold water, and he straightens away from you, trying to ignore the way his heart thuds. Ukai’s lips twist into a frown, and he rises, grabbing his bag and quietly walking out the door.

________________________

The next few days are quiet as you go to work. It feels weird to stay at Ukai’s by yourself, but you have to admit that a weight has been lifted since the first night. It was like you could finally move forward in your friendship, the guilt evaporating and letting you fall back into a normal crush.

The evening you’re able to move into your apartment, it’s windier than you thought it would be. You didn’t mean to steal one of his hoodies, but you know he has a few pairs of the orange one. You had seen them in his closet. You slip the orange hoodie on, clutching the fabric to you. It’s warm, enough to protect you from the unusually powerful wind. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath; it smells like him. The thought makes you shudder.

You keep the hoodie on, promising to leave it in Ukai's apartment when you make your last trip in between. But when the moment comes, you can’t bring yourself to take the garment off. When you slip into bed in an unfamiliar place that night, his hoodie brings you comfort. As your eyes shut, you promised that you would return it the next day, when he texted you for his key.

Except you didn’t. You held onto his hoodie for two weeks. By the time you return it, it has already stopped smelling like him. And now, Ukai’s blinking at you from the doorframe of his apartment, confusion pulling at his eyebrows.

His hair is wet, hanging limply against his head, his normal headband nowhere to be seen. A towel hangs around his neck, and there’s an unlit cigarette in between his lips. You blink up at him blankly, trying to resist the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He cocks his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face curiously.

“I, um, came to drop this off.” You hold his hoodie to your chest, clutching it tightly in your hands. “But I probably should’ve told you I was coming.” His gaze is glued to the garment your holding, and the silence hangs in between you. Ukai flicks his eyes back to yours, something deep and dark brewing in them. You shift nervously under his gaze, opening your mouth as you hesitantly explain yourself.

“I borrowed it. When I was staying here. Just took me a while to drop it back off,” you mumble, feeling embarrassed.

“Keep it.” His voice is warm and steady in the air, making your spine tingle. Your hands drop from your chest, hoodie still clenched tightly.

“Oh. Okay.” Your mouth feels heavy, the words sticking to your tongue like molasses. “I guess I’ll head home. Thanks.” You start to turn away, when his hand shoots out, latching onto your wrist.

“You just got here.” His touch stings you, burning into your skin in a way that makes you crave more. You slowly, and weakly, you nod at him, letting him guide you inside his apartment.

“So you borrowed my hoodie, huh?” He smirks at you, eyes gleaming at the way you nervously sit at the edge of his futon.

“Yea, I was running out the door and it was colder than I thought, so I just grabbed it.” Your hands grip the fabric tightly, before you put the hoodie on the bed next to you. Ukai cocks his head to the side, his sharp smirk never leaving his face. “But it took me a while to return because, well…” He flops down onto the ground in front of you, resting his chin in his hand.

“Because it smelled like you,” you mumble, feeling butterflies slip into your veins. Ukai’s eyes widen for a split second, and he plucks the unlit cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the side.

“Huh, no shit.” His words are colored in disbelief, but his gaze is unwavering, sending a small shiver down your spine. He shifts forward, pushing into your personal space until his face is right in front of yours.

“If I’m reading this wrong, you gotta let me know.” The frail dam that had been holding your emotions in place splinters, leaving your mind reeling. But one thing was sure: it was impossible to deny how you felt.

“You’re not,” you manage to sputter out. “You’re not reading it wrong.” He hums in satisfaction, eyes trailing over your face.

Ukai surges forward, and his lips are warm and rough against yours, and he steals your breath away immediately. A hand gently holds your face to his, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Tentatively, you twist your fingers into his hair, and he groans against you. He pulls away from your lips, leaving you chasing after him. He pants against you, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Been wanting to do this for years,” he mutters, looking at you intensely.

“What took you so long?” He rolls his eyes, leaving sharp kisses down your neck.

“Too scared that I would push you away, and I did that anyways.” You pout at his words, tugging him up by his hair.

“I’m not going away again, and there’s nothing you could do to make me” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss him. His tongue prods at your lips, and you open your mouth obediently, letting him explore. Ukai’s hands are warm on your waist, squeezing the flesh that’s there. He pulls you onto his lap, shifting his legs under you so you’re flush against him.

“You good?” you ask in between kisses, scratching his scalp. His hips rock against you, and he pulls back to smirk at you.

“I’m more than good, baby.” Grinning, you meet his mouth again, letting your hips grind against him. His warm hands wander up and down your body, setting your skin on fire. They rest on your waist under your shirt, and his fingers tap at the flesh there. You hum happily, before leaning away and pulling off your shirt and tossing it behind you. Ukai freezes, eyes hungrily taking in the newly exposed skin. You flush as his hands start to trail upwards, ghosting over your skin.

You dip forward to kiss him again, and his hands reach around to fumble with your bra. You smile against his lips as he struggles, but the second it’s off, his hands are kneading your breasts.

“What are you smiling about?” he mutters against your lips, before pinching one of your nipples. You pull back and inhale sharply, biting your lip before tugging at his shirt.

“Not fair that yours is still on, Keishin,” you whine. He rolls his eyes, and pushes you off of his lap, letting you fall against the futon. Ukai strips quickly, a sharp grin on his face making you flush. He crawls forward, caging you in between his arms. His hips settle in between your thighs, and you can feel his erection through his boxers.

When he looks at you, his hair flops down. You lift your hand, running your fingers through it. He leans into your touch, grinning before bending down to kiss you. His lips are warm against you, and he doesn’t waste any time, attacking your jawline and neck with sharp, biting kisses. You card your hands through his hair, eyes fluttering shut. His kisses switch into something more intense, and you gasp, eyes fluttering open as small bites litter your neck.

“Ukai,” you moan, fingers tightening in his hair. He leaves little marks until he reaches your chest. His tongue swirls around a nipple, fingers pinching the other. The small sparks of pleasure go straight to your pussy, and your hips shift underneath Ukai, making him groan.

His mouth is hot and relentless on you, and your nipples ache from the attention. His teeth lightly bite down on your breast, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your eyes fly open.

“Keishin!” you squeal. He chuckles before letting his tongue run over were he just bit.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not really meaning it, and he continues his path down. When he reaches the waist of your shorts, his eyes find yours, waiting. Biting the inside of your cheek, you shift your hips up, and Ukai grips the fabric, tugging down both your shorts and your underwear. His eyes focus on your exposed pussy, making note of how it’s already wet.

“Quit staring,” you complain, embarrassment flooding your system. He smirks down at you, using his finger to trail up and down your already soaking slit.

“So pretty and wet…” he mumbles. Your hips squirm underneath him, and his finger travels to circle your sensitive clit. You whine at the jolts of pleasure, making him smirk. His finger dips down, and he pushes it in gently. He thumbs at your clit, eyes flicking in between your face and your greedy pussy. Your tug at his hair, rotating your hips in time with his gentle thrusts.

“Keishin, more please,” you whine, making him chuckle. He slips another finger in, stretching you out. Your hands leave his hair to pinch at your nipples. Ukai’s head dips down to lightly bite the inside of your thigh, making you jolt. When he pushes in a third finger, you moan loudly, throwing your head back against the pillow. Something white-hot and foreboding pokes at the edges of your mind, threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna cum, Kei,” you warn, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers curl inside of you, thumb still relentless on your clit.

“Open your eyes, Y/N.” His voice leaves no room for any argument, and you force them to open, watching as his fingers continue to pump into you. “Cum for me, baby.” He leans down again, eyes fixed on yours, and he bites the inside of your other thigh, and the pain combines with the pleasure, catapulting you over the edge.

You writhe and thrash against him, hips bucking up against his fingers. Ukai’s laugh fills the room, and he continues to move his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm. When he finally pulls his hand away, you whimper from the loss. He presses a kiss to your hip before flipping you over.

You hear him shuffle, and you glance over your shoulder and see him kneeling behind you, boxers finally off. Excitement and arousal pool inside of you, and you squirm as his hands massage your ass.

“You’re big,” you murmur, making him laugh. He’s thick and long enough that you know it’ll feel good. But even then, you can’t help but wonder if he’ll actually fit. You flush facing forward again, but he leans down to press kisses to your spine.

“You good to keep going?” he asks in between each peck. You nod, letting your fingers dig into the sheets by your head.

“I’ve been thinking about this for years,” he groans, making you flush. His fingers dig into your ass, massaging the flesh. You squirm underneath him, feeling yourself get wetter under his touch. Ukai runs the head of his cock up and down your slit, and you inhale sharply, overcome with the desire to see his face.

“Wait!” you cry out, throwing an arm back to grab his arm. Immediately, he pulls away from you and freezes.

“What’s wrong are you okay? Do you wanna stop?” Panic colors his voice, and you shake your head before rolling over onto you back.

“I, uh, I just wanted to see you,” you mumble, feeling shy. Ukai barks out a laugh and smirks down at you, one of his hands moving to stroke your thigh affectionately.

“Fair enough. There’s always next time.” His predatory grin makes your cunt clench, and you reach up, gesturing for him to lean down. He cocks his head to the side, hair tilting with it.

“What is it you want?” You flush, letting your gaze go past his shoulder.

“A kiss.” His eyes light up, and he leans down, letting his lips ghost against yours. You push up, meeting his lips, and he chuckles. Ukai ruts his hips against you, letting his cock slide in between your soaking folds.

“Keishin, quit teasing me,” you whine. He rolls his eyes before pushing away, resting on his knees.

“Wanna watch your little pussy try to take me,” he explains, letting the head of his cock gently push into you. Your face contorts at the breach, and you wring your hands in the sheets. He whispers sweet words, eyes glued to your flutter pussy. He slowly rocks his hips forward, watching as he sinks in another inch.

You let out a choked moan, his slow movements emphasizing his size. His eyes snap up to your face, letting his hands squeeze your waist.

“Your sweet little cunt feels so good already,” he groans. Your hands tug at the sheets as you try not to squirm. But it feels nearly impossible with how red-hot his cock feels inside of you.

You preen under Ukai’s attention, his hands massaging your flesh as your pussy tries to relax around his thick length.

“So hot and tight.” His words shake as his eyes trail down your body to watch your pussy split around him as he inches in.

“You’re too big,” you keen, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes at the intense stretch, and nonetheless, the thought adds fuel to the fire in your belly, and your pussy clenches down harder on his cock. His thumb strokes delicate circles into your hip, and he smirks down at you.

“Yea, and the thought has you squeezing around my cock, huh? That’s pretty messed up.” You flush at his words, embarrassment coursing through your veins. You turn your head to the side, wanting to escape his intense gaze. Keishin leans forward, rocking his hips and pushing his cock slowly into you until he bottoms out. You let out a pathetic whine, covering your face with your hands

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he coos, batting at your hands, which flop above your head. “I think it’s cute how tight you are around me. I’m just too big? Is that it, baby?” You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you. He chuckles as you bury face into the crook of his neck. Tentatively, Ukai slowly pulls out, every ridge and vein dragging deliciously against your walls. When he pushes back in, you groan against his skin, and your hands travel up and down the smooth expanse of his back, your nails leaving red lines.

His hand snakes in-between the two of you, and a calloused finger expertly traces patterns onto your clit. You moan loudly, and your body writhes against him. Ukai pulls away from you, and a cruel grin sprawls out onto his face.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?” You nod, pathetically bucking your hips against him still. “We’ve barely started,” he taunts.

“I can’t help it,” you choke out, nerves feeling overwhelmed by sensations. He hums at your words, licking his lips as he eyes your body.

“Okay. It’s okay. Do you wanna be good for me?” he gently asks. You squirm beneath him, hands gripping his biceps, and you nod your head.

“I wanna be good for you, Keishin,” you cry out, the walls of your cunt fluttering around his thick cock. “I’ll be good for you.” His smirk slips into a softer smiler, and he leans forward, grinding his cock into you, and leaving sharp kisses against your neck.

“Then cum for me,” he murmurs against your neck, before shifting to lightly bite your shoulder. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you cant your hips against him, pussy fluttering around him. You grip his biceps tightly, orgasm overwhelming you.

“That’s it. Creaming so pretty on my dick,” Ukai whispers, watching your face contort in pleasure. He ruts into you, fingers still expertly teasing your clit, in an attempt to draw out your orgasm. Your eyes crack open, small tears leaking from your eyes.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you squeal, nails digging into his biceps as you try to squirm away from him. He tuts lightly at you, his hot tongue swiping along the delicate bite mark that’s on your shoulder.

“I thought you wanted to be good for me,” he rumbles. You nod, letting your eyes shut again. The fingers that were tortuously circling your clit slip away to pinch you’re inner thigh. “Look at me, baby.” You pry your eyes open and pant against him. His clever fingers continue their ministrations, and his hips grind deeper into you, making your brain feel foggy and warm.

“I wanna be good,” you mumble, hands leaving his biceps to tangle themselves into his hair. Ukai makes an approving sound, and he kisses your cheek.

“Cum. Again.” A pathetic cry tears itself from your throat, and you focus on the intense pleasure you’re feeling. Ukai leans down, littering your chest with little sharp bites that make you keen. Your brows pinch at the intense pleasure, hips grinding against him. You’re already close again, and you tug at his hair, urging him to kiss you again. His lips eagerly find yours, and you feel him smile against you. You’re so close to falling over that edge again. Your cunt is absolutely drenched, and the erotic squelching makes you flush.

Ukai’s tongue prods at your lips, and you obediently open your mouth, letting him in. It’s sloppy and desperate, and it’s perfect. His fingers dig into your clit, pinching it, and you are flung into the stratosphere, stars popping into your vision. You gush around his cock, and he groans against your lips.

Your thighs twitch, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close to you, urging him to still. He complies, peppering your face with kisses as you come back to earth.

“So pretty,” he whispers against you. You card your fingers through his hair as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh my god, Keishin.” Your voice wavers, and you're embarrassed by how hoarse you sound.

“Want me to stop?” You shake your head desperately at his question, and your legs tighten around him.

“No. I just need a second.” He chuckles watching as your screws up. “I didn’t think I was that sensitive,” you sigh. You unlace your fingers from his hair, wiping at the sweat that’s on your neck.

Ukai smirks at you as he shifts to kneel.  His warm hands gripping your waist, keeping you flushed against him. You whine at the movement, pussy tightening around him. His eyes trail over where he enters you, admiring how you’re spread out for him.

“Or, maybe my dick’s too big for you,” he taunts, no real malice behind his words. You squeak at his words, feeling embarrassed and warm.  “Yea, that’s it,” he continues, fondly looking at your messy cunt. “You’re so sensitive cause it barely fits in your cunt,” he coos.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, lazily wrapping your legs around him. He lets out a laugh, one that resounds through the apartment, and you smile at him, something syrupy running through your head. “And I think-“

You cut yourself off, nerves overtaking you. His head cocks to the side, and his thumb strokes your waist in a reassuring manner.

“I’m balls deep in you. Don’t get shy on me now,” he says gently, his soft tone colliding with his crude words.

“You’re so vulgar, Keishin.” You roll your eyes at him, a soft smile creeping onto your face. “It could be that,” you say, not wanting to repeat his words, “but I also think I may be sensitive cause it’s you.”

Your voice is soft, and you watch as Ukai practically melts. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. You moan as your weight settles on him, increasing the pressure from his cock.

“Are you being serious right now?” His voice rumbles through you, and you bite your lip and nod. You press a palm to his cheek, relishing in the way he leans into it.

“There’s no one for me but you, Keishin.” Ukai kicks his legs out behind you, letting you get more comfortable on his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and he buries his face into your neck. His hips buck up into you, making you squeal.

“Gonna fuck you so good. You’re never gonna be able to think about anyone but me inside this pussy.” He punctuates his words with a thrust, and your nails dig into his back. You rock your hips against him, as he sprinkles kisses against your neck.

“Ever since,” you pant, “ ever since I got back, all I’ve thought about is you. I missed you so much.” He moans into your neck, and his sweet kisses turn into little bites, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Did you touch yourself? Thinking about my fat cock pushing into you?” he mutters in between nips. Your brows pinch together and you nod as your exhausted pussy flutters again.

“Yes! But all I wanted was you!” Ukais teeth clamp down on your neck, not hard enough to break skin, but it stings. You squeal as he roughly changes positions again, forcing you on your back again, legs wrapped tightly around him.

His pace is relentless, pounding into you. Your fingers claw down his back, and his hands squeeze your hips.

“It’s too much, Kei,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut. Ukai presses a searing kiss to your lips, thumb digging into your side.

“Please, baby. Give me one more. Cum for me one more time,” he mumbles into your lips. You nod against him, blinking through the tears. “Good. Just let me fuck you like this.”

His cock drives deep in you, making you keen. Your hands travel up to his hair, tangling into it, and tugging at the strands. He feels everywhere, his presence is overwhelming, hot and heavy. His hips rut into you, lips peppering your face with small kisses. Your cunts already oversensitive can feel your orgasm approaching.

“I’m close, Kei,” you choke out, pussy gushing around his cock. You flush at the lewd noises, but he just moans nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Give it to me. Wanna feel your little pussy squeeze around me.” You hold him to your neck, hips bucking into him. Ukai’s hand snakes down in between the two of you, and his fingers rub intense circles on your clit. Your eyes squeeze shut, as the building pleasure finally reaches its peak.

“Just like that, baby. Cum around my cock.” You writhe beneath him, your hands traveling to claw down his back. Your hot cunt grips him tight, legs tightening around his waist. “Just like that,” he groans, before his teeth sink into the base of your shoulder. You moan his name loudly, loud enough that you would be embarrassed later, but for not you don’t care. All you can focus on is the white-hot pleasure that’s coursing through your system.

Ukai’s thrusts don’t stop, plowing into you and prolonging your orgasm. He pulls his hand away from your clit, and he slips his arms in between your back and the bed, holding you tightly. You whine as you feel his hips begin to lose their pace, thrusts no longer steady. Your legs squeeze around him, keeping him close to you.

“Cum inside, please I need it,” you beg. He pulls away from your neck, eyebrows creasing in concern. “I’m on the pill. It’s safe, I promise. Please Kei, I need you to fill me, please, please, please.”

“Alright, baby. I’ll give you what you want.” His head drops back to the crook of your neck, as he stutters against you, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy. He falls against you, before rolling onto his side, keeping you tight against him. His cock is still lodged within you, and you whine at the movement. Sweet kisses litter your face and neck, and you blink blearily at him. He slowly pulls out of you, grunting at the way your pussy flutters. You grimace as his cum drips out of your abused cunt.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” he mumbles, before standing up and disappearing to the bathroom. You flop onto your back, trying to catch your breath. When Ukai returns, he kneels in between your shaky legs, and ever so carefully, he takes care of you. There’s something unusually soft in his actions, soft enough to make your heart squeeze. He also gets you a glass of water, which you gulp down. He lights a cigarette, as he watches your eyes start to clear up.

“Keishin, you’re kind of nasty,” you mumble, stretching your arms out above your head. His laugh rumbles through the air, as he takes a drag. He eyes you greedily, as if he’s going to eat you alive.

“This was nothing. There’s so much I wanna do to you.” His voice is low, heavy with exhaustion. “But for now I just want to hold you.”

“Well that can be arranged,” you tease, lying back on the bed. Ukai chuckles, putting out his cigarette and crawling forward to wrap his arms around you. You sigh in contentment, letting your eyes shut.

“I missed you,” he mutters, and you smile against him.

“I missed you too, Keishin.” Sleep tugs at your brain, luring it to a deep rest.

“Did you mean it? What you said?” His voice is unusually quiet, delicately piercing the air. His thumb gently strokes your arm. Your eyes flutter open, and your brows pinch as you try to recall what you had said.

“About what?” you ask, trying to stifle a yawn.

“What you said? About you and me?”

Oh.

Oh.

You smile at him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull away, you lean your forehead against his and you smile.

“The only person for me is you, Keishin. It’s always been you.” He hums happily before he pulls you against him.

“Good. Cause I was serious. I’m not letting you go again.” You shut your eyes and nuzzle into him, taking comfort in the way his arms wrap around you. And it’s in those arms that you embrace the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.✨

[dreamerstreamer]

Friendly Figure

Pairing: Fundy x gn!reader (can be read as both romantic & platonic!)

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] While Fundy may have had more than his fair share of poor fatherly figures, he’s more than grateful to have you.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: this was requested by an anon who wanted a story surrounding fundy’s life story within the smp! this ended up being a fun combination of a character study with an actual story, and i loved it. i hope you enjoy, as well!

You waved your arm eagerly as you sank your teeth into another bite of delicious pumpkin pie. “Bye, Niki!” you called out between muffled chews. “Thanks for the pie!”

A few yards away, you saw her wave back, raising a hand to cup her mouth as she yelled back. “You’re welcome! I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

You sent her one last wide grin before turning on your heel, twirling your fork in your hands as you set off down the path once more. Niki really did make the best pie.

You hummed as you watched the sun dip below the horizon, the sky painted with fading streaks of salmon and lavender. Beside you, Fundy grumbled, his ears flicking atop his head in annoyance as he eyed the plate in your hands. “Why did you get an extra slice and I didn’t?”

You raised a brow at him, shooting him an unimpressed look. “Because you didn’t ask, nimrod.” Pointing your fork at him, you scoffed. “If you did, I bet Niki would have handed one over, no questions asked.”

He wrinkled his nose, at you a scowl stretching across his face. “‘Nimrod’?” he parroted. “You’ve been hanging out too much with Karl.”

You stabbed your fork into the pie in your hands, watching as the crust crumbled delectably onto your plate. “What can I say? He’s nice!”

Fundy looked appalled. “And I’m not?”

You stared at him, blinking for a moment, then shrugged, a teasing glint dancing across your eyes. “Eh. You’re alright, I guess.”

He glowered, raising his arms as you took a cautionary step back. “Why, you little—”

“Fundy!”

You and Fundy both stopped dead in your tracks, your fork dropping onto your plate with a clatter. Your eyes met, and a mutual look of discomfort passed between your gazes.

You would recognize that voice anywhere.

Slowly, the two of you turned, your gazes landing on a familiar worn yellow sweater, the cloth fraying at the edges after years of wear. In front of you, you could only stare as Ghostbur jogged up to Fundy, his dark, near-translucent eyes glimmering with hope.

Fundy coughed, trying and failing to hide the discomfort growing on his face as he offered a small wave. “Uh, hi, Ghostbur.”

Ghostbur’s pale lips curled into a frown, his brows furrowing. “Why the long face?” He leaned over, gently elbowing Fundy’s side, missing the way his son stiffened at his touch. “Aren’t you excited to see me?”

Fundy lurched back, clutching at where he had been touched. “Not really.”

Ghostbur let out a small whine, his shoulders drooping. “Aw, come on. Why don’t we have some father-son bonding time together?” He sent him a goofy grin, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “You know, just like the old days.”

You heart ached at the pain that flickered across Fundy’s face, his ears pressing flat against his head. There were no father-son bonding times when Wilbur was alive—at least not the kind that ended with actual bonding.

Fundy shuffled back a bit, and you instinctively took a step closer to his side. “No thanks,” he muttered softly, averting his eyes to the ground. “I’d rather not.”

Ghostbur’s smile faltered, and something sad flashed through his gaze. “Ah, um, w-well, maybe we could catch up?” A tinge of desperation seeped into his tone, and he lifted a shaky hand toward him. “I haven’t seen you in a whi—“

Fundy raised a hand, and Ghostbur fell silent. “I’m good, thanks.” He offered him a smile, but it was strained and didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I actually think I’m gonna get going now. Bye.”

Before Ghostbur could even think to respond, he dropped his hand, whipping around and striding away. You blinked, your head still reeling with everything that had happened as you watched Fundy walk off. Tightening your grip on your plate, you took a step forward to follow after him when a quiet voice stopped you.

“[Y/N],” Ghostbur said, his voice coming out small.

You stiffened, then turned, swallowing as you sent him a wary glance over your shoulder. “Yes, Ghostbur?”

The moment his name left your lips, you froze, your jaw going slack. The light had left his eyes, and he only stared down at the ground with a vacant gaze, his hands limp at his sides.

You’d never seen Ghostbur look so... sad. So miserable. He looked defeated—broken. Then again, maybe he was.

Did Fundy really affect him so much?

“Please,” he said softly, so quietly that you could have mistaken it for a breeze. “Please tell me.”

He raised his head, and a pang of sorrow ran through your heart as he took a weary step toward you, his hand gripping at the fabric over his heart. “Where did I go wrong? What did I do to make him hate me so much?”

You blinked at him, pondering, then glanced down at the half-eaten slice of pie on your plate. A frown skittered across your face. You didn’t have much of an appetite, anymore. Sucking in a deep breath, you looked back at him.

“Ghostbur,” you said, “just like how there are some things we cannot change, there are some wounds we cannot mend, no matter how much we try. Your relationship with Fundy is one of them.”

He frowned, a sour gleam flashing in his ghostly eyes. “That’s not fair. I don’t want him to hate my like this forever.”

Something bitter rippled through you, and you snapped, “What you did to him wasn’t fair either, Ghostbur, but there’s no fixing that now.”

He flinched at your sudden shift in tone, and you almost wanted to apologize. Almost. Swallowing, he dropped his gaze to the ground, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Was I really so cruel?”

You stared at him for a few long moments. Then, you opened your mouth, and what came out was tasted like ice on your tongue.

“Yes. You were.”

Before you could feel even a grain of pity for him, you flipped around on your heel, striding off in the direction Fundy had left. How dare he be so upset that his son hated him when he was the one who made it so. You had seen it all, had seen every despicable choice he made as he chose to neglect his son, as he chose to abandon your best friend.

You couldn’t pity him—you would not allow yourself to.

Taking a shaky breath, you squeezed your fork a little tighter as you made your way down the walkway in search of Fundy. You already knew where he was—of course you knew. What kind of best friend would you be if you didn’t?

The sun had long set by now, and above you the stars twinkled like tiny, flickering candles. You trudged along the dark path, accompanied only by the moon’s soft light before you suddenly veered off the trail. Pushing past the low-hanging branches of the forest, you finally stepped up onto the cliffside, spotting Fundy sitting with his back leaning against yours and his favourite tree back from when you were little.

With a small twitch of your lips, you walked up to him, watching as his ears flicked in your direction. You could never surprise him, as much as you may try, so you simply settled into the space next to him, setting your pie down next to you. He was staring out over the forest below, his legs dangling freely off the edge. You tilted your head at him, then spoke.

“Hey, bud,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the somber look on his face. “You doing alright?”

His gaze flit to yours, then back over the cliff once more. “Sort of. Ish. I guess.”

You sent him an unconvinced look, and he paused, then let a loose sigh escape his lips. “No, not really.”

Leaning back, you offered him a weary smile. “Yeah, I figured. That chat with Ghostbur didn’t go over so well.”

Slowly, he pulled back his legs, curling them up to his chest and resting his head atop his knees. “I know he means well, but it just makes me feel sick, the way he talks to me. It’s not his fault, I know, but I...” He swallowed. “I—“

“It’s okay,” you murmured, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

He sent you a thankful grin, then his smile fell. Scooting back a bit further, he looked up at the stars, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he said suddenly, “my experiences with dads has been kind of awful.”

You blinked at him, stunned, then blurted, “You just realized?”

He laughed, his ivory grin glinting in the moonlight. “No, but I think talking to Ghostbur today really got me thinking about it more.” His tail flicked behind him. “Growing up, I always felt like I just had to please Wilbur—like I had to be the best for him.” An almost hopeful look overtook his features. “After all, I was his little champion, right?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “But he never paid any attention to me. He was always focused on fighting wars and becoming president and—“ He sucked in a deep breath. “—and then he died.”

He furrowed his brows, and you could practically hear his train of thought speeding forward. “Looking back, I can hardly remember a single good thing he did for me. I mean, he wasn’t so bad when I was a baby and stuff, but when I needed him most, he was just...” He paused. “...gone.”

Suddenly, he whipped his head up and turned to look at you. “And then don’t even get me started with Eret. You know, I trusted him.” He held up a hand, gesturing wildly as his tail stood up straight. “He was actually nice to me, [Y/N]. He listened to me and gave me good advice, just like a real dad would. Then the papers came and... and... nothing.”

He stopped, his voice dropping to a tiny whisper. “Again.”

For a moment, he was silent. Then, he let out a long, bitter laugh.

“Oh,” he said, his tone growing wistful, “nothing’s changed, has it?” He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes growing glossy in the moonlight, “I’m all alone, just like before.”

Just like that, your heart snapped into two, and you opened your mouth. “That’s not true, Fundy.”

The look he sent you was full of nothing but pure anguish. “It is, isn’t it? I’m just the forgotten son—“ He held up two fingers. “—twice over, now. No one wants me, no one at a—“

Before he could finish, he was cut off by you barreling straight into him, knocking him flat onto his back. Your arms caged him in as you panted over him, your eyes vividly scanning his as he stared at you in shock.

“Fundy,” you breathed, desperation soaking your words, “listen to me. You’ve changed. You’re stronger now, more resilient, and I see that.”

Slowly, you snaked a hand up to rest against his face, your palm pressed against this cheek. “I want you, Fundy. I’m here with you—I always have been, and I always will be.”

Your gaze hardened as it bore into his, steadfast and true. “And as long as I’m by your side, you will never be alone.”

He blinked up at you, his lips parted in awe. Then, ever so slowly, a smile, small but sincere, spread across his face. “Thank you, [Y/N],” he whispered.

Crawling back, you reached a hand out toward him, your smile widening as he grasped it in his. “Anytime, buddy.”

With a grunt, you pulled him forward until he was sitting upright once more. “You know what?” he said abruptly as you let go of his hand.

You cocked your head at him, your eyebrows knitting together. “Hm?”

Fundy flashed you a bright grin, lopsided and goofy in all the right ways. “Who needs a father figure when I have you?”

Your eyes widened as you sputtered, “W-What?”

His gaze suddenly grew serious. “You’re all I need. You’re like...” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “...my friendly figure.”

A few seconds passed in silence as you blinked at him. Then, you burst into laughter, not missing the way his tail bristled at the sound. “Fundy,” you wheezed, “that’s a horrible name.”

He shot you an irritable look. “Well, do you have a better one?”

Your laughter slowly came to a halt, and your eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes,” you said. “A best friend.”

He looked at you for a moment, then smiled back. “I like that one better.”

Suddenly, you turned, reaching out to your side. “You know what’s even better than that, though?”

His ears twitched. “What?”

When you turned, you held a familiar plate in your hands, a giggle threatening to bubble out of your throat as you took in his shocked expression. “Some pie.” You shoved a fork in his face—a new one. “Here, we can finish it together.”

He sent you a quizzical look, disbelief clouding his features. “Since when did you have a second fork?”

Without missing a beat, you stabbed the new fork into the soft, flaky dessert and held it up to his lips. “No questions. Only pie.”

He blinked at you for another moment, then grinned, opening his mouth wide for you to shovel some pie in.

You really were all he needed.

[littlemissnoname13]

Three Days With You - Part Two

Summary: Draco has a rather interesting day planned for the two of you. Joined by familiar faces, old wounds resurface leaving the two of you with more questions than answers.

Warnings: smut,mature language and scenes, drinking, a fair amount of angst, mentions of blood

Word count: 3000

A/n: it’s 4am and I’m sleep deprived. This series is a bit plot heavy as opposed to WOS. I tried so very hard to fit everything under the 3000 word limit I’ve set for each part.

Song that plays as they dance: Fade into you by Mazzy Star

Part one | Masterlist

~~~

Sometime around Umbridge’s reign of terror, 5th year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

With his arms folded, Draco casually reclined against the wall and he watched you write lines with Umbridge’s quill. He tried to keep a straight face but it was hard not to wince as he watched the words etch themselves onto your skin.

It seemed that Dolores Jane Umbridgde wasn’t really fond of you. In fact, he was certain she despised you just as much as Potter.

This was your third consecutive evening in detention and as a member of the inquisitorial squad, he was tasked with the duty of keeping an eye on you.

And while you did a moderately decent job of keeping a straight face through the searing sensations, he could sense that you were clearly in pain.

“Murtlap essence.” Draco said quietly and you dropped the quill and turned around to look at him. “It should help with the abrasions.”

“Why are you talking to me, Malfoy?”

Draco arched a brow at your question but internally, he too was pondering why he was talking to you.

Nobody talked to you.

You always spent most of your time scribbling furiously into what looked like a diary of some sort. You barely had any friends and most of his so-called friends were very upfront about their disdain for you and your muggleborn heritage.

“Why can’t I talk to you?” He finally asked, walking up to where you were seated.

“Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?” You quipped and went back to writing lines with that wretched quill. You always seemed so unbothered by everything.

A part of his brain was telling him to shut up and another part of his brain was trying to come up with a witty response just to impress you.

“I’m asking you.” He sighed in defeat before crouching down next to you to look at the gashes on your hand. “Why can I not talk to you?”

“Hm, let’s see..” You said with a bit more salt than you intended to. “Your Pure blood ideals that classify people like me as mudbloods, the prejudice, not to mention Umbitch who wouldn’t be very pleased to see you talk to me while I’m writing lines for her.”

His fingertips ghosted over your cuts, barely making contact with the blood as he contemplated running outside to look for some murtlap essence himself.

“Dont.” You winced when his skin made contact with the cuts. “Just don’t. I don’t need your pity.”

His eyes caught sight of yours as you pulled your hand away and he immediately felt uneasy at the sight of them. It was a kind of wistfulness, a type of yearning and nostalgia for something that never was. Something that never could be. And it somehow made him want it even more.

Draco lifted his hand, letting his fingers brush against your cheek and he heard you reflexively draw in a sharp breath.

He found himself leaning in to capture your lips in his but you hesitated.

“It wouldn’t be justifiable if something happened in between us.” You whispered, leaning an inch away from him. “It would be highly inconvenient for you if someone found out.”

“Then I guess, no one must know.” His voice was hoarse before he crashed his lips into yours.

How was he ever going to explain himself if anyone found out? His whole life, he was taught to be repelled by your kind. He was, however, anything but repelled.

He was swallowing all of the little whimpers that you made and he was revelling in the feel of your smooth skin underneath your shirt.

How was he ever going to justify the way he was slowly allowing his fingers to trace your inner thighs before pushing your panties aside to press his finger into your wetness.

Gods, the sounds you were making when he pushed a finger inside of you.

Why were you allowing him to touch you like this?

Hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned with your breasts falling out, legs spread open for him to see. For him to claim.

“Is this okay?” He asked before taking a slow lick up your soaked cunt and you raked your fingers into his hair and gripped hard as you nodded eagerly.

One taste of you and instantaneously forgot everything that was expected of him. It didn’t bother him what type of blood ran through your veins. The way he wanted to kneel and worship your pretty and wet cunt was more sacred than the entire bloody sacred twenty eight.

When he finally lined his hardened erection up against your entrance, he noticed that you had suddenly tensed. Your hesitation was notable in the way you tilted your head and stared at the floor like your life depended on it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, using his index finger to tilt your face back to him. “Tell me, y/n. Do you want me to stop?”

That was the first time he’d used your given name and saying it made his ears turn hot.

“No—No I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered, still refusing to look at him. “It’s just that—I’ve never..”

How could he have been so dense?

The way you were digging your nails into his arms, your whimpers, and the way you winced when he pushed his fingers inside you should have told him that you were a virgin.

He caressed your cheeks slightly and dipped his head lower to press a kiss onto your forehead before backing away.

He didn’t want your first time to be with someone like him, during Umbridge’s detention of all places with your cuts still bleeding and seeping into the cotton of his white shirt.

“Draco don’t.” You whispered his given name softly and grabbed him by the arm before he had the chance to walk away. “Don’t go.”

“But y/n—”

You pulled him in and pressed your lips on his before he could reason with you.

He had the choice to walk away from you, from all this but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt different with you.

He asked you one more time before lining himself up against you. And when you gave him a soft and breathy “yes”, he pushed.

Your walls clenched him in and you tried your best to repress your tearful whimper by biting down on the exposed part of his shoulder.

He made sure to be gentle with you when he made the first few thrusts.

Soon enough, your grip on his arms loosened. Your cries morphed into tiny little gasps and moans of his name and you began to kiss the same place you were previously biting.

And at that very moment he knew you had surrendered yourself to him.

Wholly. Completely. Entirely.

At the particular moment, you belonged to nobody but Draco Lucius Malfoy and he—

~~~

Present day, Pilgrim’s Inn, 9:27 Am

Draco, fixing you both a cup of coffee, stilled and snapped out of the flashback inside his mind when you let out a small grumble in your sleep and reached towards his side of the bed.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself when he noticed the visibly annoyed look on your sleepy face when all you felt were pillows and sheets.

As much he wanted to sit and watch you sleep like a mega creep, it seemed like a good time to wake you up.

~~~

He was still wearing the same trousers and black shirt from the previous night when your eyes fluttered open. Only this morning, the shirt was buttoned halfway, exposing most of his chest and torso. The sleeves had been rolled back and you felt your stomach twist into a knot at the sight of his dark mark.

It served as a constant reminder that you only really had three days with him.

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, Draco stood up and walked towards the bed with a ceramic mug filled to the brim with coffee causing your lips to twist into a grateful smile.

“Drink up.” He said as he sat down on the chair next to you. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

After a big gulp of the coffee, you put the mug on the bed side table and looked at him.

“We do?”

“Of course we do.” He motioned towards a turquoise box on top of the dresser, sounding giddy and excited. He almost sounded like the carefree and careless Draco you loved to hate from the first few years at school.

You quickly threw the duvet off your body and scurried towards the dresser; the floorboards of the inn creaked as you did so.

“What’s in the box?” You turned your head back to look at him.

Draco’s cheeks were flushed and he was watching you with darkened eyes. His firm grip on the mug made his knuckles turn pale and you only realized you were standing in front of him naked when you saw the growing bulge in his pants

You ignored your own blood rush to your cheeks while you unwrapped the box to see what he was so excited about.

It was an oxblood red dress, with the softest fabric you’d ever touched. Long flowy sleeves and a plunging neckline, it was strikingly gorgeous.

“A Dress Draco?” You raised a brow at him.

“For our very first date. And for later..” he smirked and you scanned the entire dresser to find an appropriate object to throw at him.

“That’s some way to ask a girl out and must you always think about sex?!” You accused even though you were thinking about it too and reached for a book he’d left on top of the dresser to throw at him.

Before launching the book his way, you paused to examine the book on your hand that read Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. It was only then that you realized that more than half of the books he had in the inn were about potions and alchemy.

How could you have not realised? Potions was the only subject he really seemed to enjoy at school.

Even during the nights you spent together back in school, you’d prop yourself up on his bed, wrap a sheet carelessly around your bare body and watch him stay up late to work on his Potions homework.

You’d always encourage him towards a career in potion making and he’d smile wistfully at the idea before turning to look at the snake and skull tattoo on his forearm. With a vacant look in his otherwise mercurial eyes, he’d remind you that he would have liked that if the circumstances were different.

You dropped the book back on the desk and instantly flung yourself into his arms.

~~~~

When he felt you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, Draco stiffened.

The way you were holding him made it seem like you were already saying your goodbyes and he felt as if someone had repeatedly used the cruciatus curse on him. He couldn’t bring himself to think about his life without you in it.

He wasn’t ready.

Draco quickly sorted out his scrambled thoughts and placed his oculomancy walls up as high as he could.

“As sexy as you are naked, I’d very much like to see that dress on you.”

You slightly sniffled before walking back towards the dresser to slip the dress on. The way you struggled with the zipper was adorable to him and he helped you zip it up with a crooked grin on his face.

Considering the present situation, taking you outside of the inn was risky so he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a perfect little lunch at the inn itself. Complete with vintage wine, a lavish main course and a decadent dessert to top it all off.

Sure, it took another huge wad of muggle cash, and coaxing the owner but the look on your face when he fed you a spoonful of chocolate mousse was worth it.

He was going to be the best fucking boyfriend on the face of this planet even if it was only for three days.

Draco took your hand, kissed you on the knuckle, guided you to the table, pulled your chair out for you and tried his hardest to not stare at your cleavage for more than thirty seconds.

Thank Merlin for all of the etiquette training he had to undergo when he was younger!

~~~

The two of you didn't really get around making much progress on the rest of the items on Draco’s itinerary filled with cliched tripes like reading poetry to each other and slow dancing to a song playing on the vintage turntable in the far corner of the room.

You’d never taken him for a romantic but he was adamant on the idea of finding “your song” from the tracks on the record that was spinning round and round.

When the both of you finally stopped bickering and agreed on a song, he stood up in front of you and offered you his hand.

Fade into you. Strange you never knew…

The chorus went as he took the lead and swayed you slowly across the room, careful not to trip on furniture.

Both of you barely made it to the end of the song and you weren’t even surprised.

~~~

“Gods you really do look beautiful in this dress..” he let out a low growl when he stopped dancing to pin you against the mattress and attach his lips to the pulse point of your neck.

To his utter surprise, you wasted no time in yanking his belt buckle.

“I need you…Draco Lucius Malfoy.” You pleaded as you started to pump his length in your hand. “I need you now.”

Urgency was dripping through every syllable that left your lipstick smudged mouth. Arousal was seeping through the fabric of your panties and Draco was afraid he’d come just by watching you like that.

“Say it again..” he whispered as he attached his mouth to your firm nipple. “Please—y/n, just say my name like that again..”

“Draco…”

With no hesitation or remorse, he pried your legs apart and pushed his cock right where it belonged inside of you. The way your body reacted to the motion drove him insane.

He often questioned his place in the universe, it was a constant battle between light and dark, between right and wrong.

But with you, he always felt like he belonged.

“You’re going to make me come…Draco..”

He buried his face into your hair and continued to fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

It was never like this with anybody else for him. And it was never going to be.

“I love you.” You whispered as you succumbed to your orgasm, heedless of the way your words would affect him.

How could you say those words out loud so often and not care about the consequences that came along with it?

“Don’t be selfish..” He groaned, feeling his own high approaching at the sound of those words. “Don’t you dare…”

“I love you.” You moaned, louder this time. “I love—”

He silenced you with a kiss before you could say it again. The weight of those words were always too much for him. Especially when he knew he had less than seventy two hours with you.

Draco began to think about all those years of childish games and wasted time as strong stinging sensations prickled up on his skin.

First, at the pit of his stomach. Then, on his left forearm.

He’d been called upon.

~~~

“Do not leave this inn. You understand?” He warned as he quickly redressed. “I’ll have someone sent over to look after you.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” You protested as you wrapped the sheets around your body and got out of bed. “I don’t need a babysitter,Draco.”

His eyes darkened and his expressions hardened as he heard your words and you gulped when he stormed over to where you stood.

“Listen to me carefully.” He gripped hard onto your shoulders and shook you. “Stay put and only open the door if you hear three knocks.”

It took a second for you to let his words sink in but you slowly nodded.

His cold hands cupped either of your cheeks and his forehead pressed up against yours; desperate and frantic eyes stared back at you.

“I have one more thing on my itinerary for us.” He said, conjuring the best smile he could give you before leaning in to press a slow and soft kiss on your lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

You held onto his words, dressed yourself in one of his sweaters, paced back and forth in the room, made yourself a cup of strong black coffee and even read through his extensive collection of books.

After what seemed like an hour, you heard it. Three very precise knocks on your door.

Very anxiously, you opened the door to find a brunette boy giving you a Cheshire Cat kind of smile.

He casually leaned forward to squeeze you into a bone crushing hug as if you were a long lost family member and you scrunched up your nose, awkwardly hugging back.

“I believe a proper introduction is long overdue.” He said as he let go. “Theodore Nott.”

“I know who you are.” You mumbled as you stepped back to let him in. “I have seen you in class.”

“Great.” He smiled as his eyes danced around the room to look at the books, the coffee pot, the turntable and the remains of what used to be the dress Draco got you.

A bright pink flush swiped across your cheeks as Theo disapprovingly shook his head. “I know you both spent half of the day shagging but please tell me you managed to do at least five activities from the itinerary!”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because I had to unfortunately sit and watch him put the blasted itinerary together.” Theo sighed, as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot before reaching for a tiny flask inside his jacket. “Occulumancy aside, Ferret is also rubbish at hiding things from me.”

You let out a snort when you remembered Draco the ferret.

After your laughter simmered down, Theo took a rather cautious step towards you before offering you his flask.

“Nothing happened between him and Pansy that day y/n.”

Your heart started to ache as your mind started recollecting that day. That goddamned day.

“And you’re telling me this now because?”

Theo sat down on the floor and patted the empty space next to him with a sad little smile on his face.

“Closure.”

(To be continued….)

~~~~~~

Part three preview:

The two of you laid peacefully next to each other one top of a picnic blanket he’d conjured, somewhere in the middle of a forest clearing

The stark black sky was littered with a million shimmering stars. Protective wards were in place and the air was saturated with the scent of pine wood and moss.

From across the blanket, Draco reached for your hand and gave it a little squeeze and you turned to your side to get a better view of him—his silver hair giving the moonlight a run for its money.

“Lyrids.” He smiled, pointing his index finger at the sky as meteors started falling from the sky, one after another…

TDWY tag list: @nicofiliac @emma67 @kimberlyxmalfoy @palecaramel @letoof @ameliasbitvh @sycathorn-slush @dr4cking @malfoyswifeyy @arzfia @icedlattewithalmondmilk @alisslahey @lieswithoutfairytales @dracoslittlesunflower @dmalfoyswhore @serpentesonagli @dracomalfoys-wh0re

Join the series tag list here.

Love,

A very sleep deprived and delirious vi

[undermattsun-archive]

mouth

(skate rat) kunimi x reader | word count: 1.8k

a/n: i said i was writing a drabble, a simple short slice,, wtf happened?? anyway ty @bakatenshii​ for putting up w my spam about this <3

18+ university age | pls read all warnings

warnings: drug use (weed), bad words, bad (slightly toxic) behavior, toxic relationships, a bit of blood

now with its sequels taste + savor

Oikawa’s parties were never really your scene, considering the amount of greasy touch-starved skaters that were crawling around and all the bad decisions you’ve made with them in the past, you really should’ve tried your best to avoid any function thrown by him. But the promise of some mindless fun after a grueling week of finals made it worth swinging by, even for an hour or so.

You’re seated on the arm of the beat-up old couch near the front door, giving you the perfect seat to watch various people of differing sobriety fall in and out of the party.

Just as the desperate scene of Matsukawa coming on to the fourth girl of the night unfolds before you, there’s the familiar burn of eyes boring into you, acutely aware of who it might be. 

For a moment you wonder if standing your ground would be better, thwarted by your own body moving without a second thought and making a desperate attempt to avoid simple eye contact, you sacrifice your perch,  hoping to find someone that you didn’t have a complicated history with.

“Trying to run?” Cool fingers wrap around your wrist, forcing a groan to escape your lips. It was a mystery how someone who was high most of the time and never wanted to expend any energy could move that quickly across a room.

“Running implies I’m scared, avoiding would be the better term,” you try to pull away from his grip, only to have him tighten his hold forcing you to turn and glare into his hooded eyes, “what do you want?”

“A hello maybe, not nice to ignore me.” He relents his hold and you roll your eyes, he looks deceptively good tonight. You can’t help but take in his appearance, grimacing when you notice he’s wearing the oversized black Champion hoodie you’d given him for his birthday, when you were still on semi-decent terms.

“Yeah about that, I only say hi to people who don’t fuck me over.” You try to move away from him but he quickly crowds into your space, focusing a calculating look on you.

“Fuck you over how?” His expression shifts, he’s giving you that look, the one he gives whenever he has you pinned against a surface and taking everything he wants from you. 

The look he gives before you can’t help but surrender completely to him.

“Forget it, just leave me alone.” You try to look around him, trying to find a familiar face, someone you could cling onto to avoid this uncomfortable confrontation and your inevitable downfall right into his hands.

You shove at his chest and slip by him, deciding that leaving completely would be the best option, only to have hands grip at your waist and pull you back harshly. You land on the couch with a soft thump about to send another scathing comment his way when you notice him reaching behind the couch, pulling out a clear glass bong with a skull engraved on it.

The sight of it fills you with another wave of irritation and nostalgia, another present from you to him, another instance of you practically on your knees begging for his attention. You know this is your real cue to leave, that the second you start smoking with him you’ll truly be putty in his hands.

“Just one or two hits,” he hums, already sensing your hesitation, he pulls out a half empty plastic water bottle and a dime bag, “I'm sure you stressed yourself out this week.”

“Mm how considerate of you.” You shift slightly in your seat, positioning yourself better in case you decide to really escape this time.

“You look good.” It’s nonchalant and almost half-hearted but it still causes a slight tingle to run down your spine. You hate the way his feigned disinterest always has you wanting more, all the times he’s looked at you with rapt attention only to coat it with impassivity a moment later making you crave more and more of him. The imagery fills your head and makes your mouth dry. You push the thoughts away, you’re here to smoke some of his weed, and then leave nothing more.

“Don’t,” he looks up from his ministrations to raise a brow at you, “‘m not playing your games tonight.”

“Fine, you look like shit.'' He hands you the bong and you consider smashing it, but it’d only be a waste of your money and good weed.

“Lighter.” You touch the mouthpiece to your bottom lip and stare at him expectantly. He shakes his head and twirls the lighter in his fingers.

“Payment.” A smug look crosses his features and the temptation to throw the bong itches at your hands again.

“I hate you.” It’s under your breath and both of you know that despite how irritated you are with him, you don’t mean it in the slightest, you never do. You hook your finger onto the collar of his hoodie and tug him forward, slamming your lips together in a chaste kiss, the moment his lips part against yours has you pulling away.  

“Hm? That was too short and sweet for you,” you snort at the comment and try to take the lighter from him, he shakes his head and turns the bong so the bowl is facing him, “you’re just gonna fuck it up and hurt yourself let me.”

“Whatever.” You fix your lips properly, holding eye contact with him as he lights the bowl, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke crawl down your throat and invade your lungs. He grins at you as he pulls the bowl from it, letting you clear it out.

You hold the smoke for a moment, and just as you’re about to blow it out, Kunimi snatches the bong from you and sets it down by the couch, surging forward and capturing your lips. His hand flies up and squeezes at your cheeks as he licks into your mouth, forcing your jaw to drop. His other arm curls around your waist, not bothering to put up a fight as he maneuvers you onto his lap.

Your hands press against him and you finally exhale slowly into his mouth, feeling his chest swell slowly beneath your palms. There’s a pause in his movements, leaving you to think he’ll pull away, only for him to continue his greedy exploration with his villainous tongue. 

Though you’d never say it out loud, you’ve always been impressed by his lungs but the lack of oxygen begins to make your chest tighten and your head feel a little too light.

“Fuck wait.” You gasp, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. His hand drops from your face and slips under the hem of your shirt letting his fingers dance across the small of your back.

“For what?” He nips at your bottom lip, trying to get you to retaliate but you narrow your eyes at him.

“Apologize first.” You drive your index finger into his chest and he scoffs.

“I don't do that,” he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your neck, making you yelp out, you hiss as he pulls off and licks at the raw skin, “take me or leave me.”

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and yank harshly, pulling him into a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything. You feel his fingers continue to massage your back while his other hand runs up and down your thigh.

If you aren’t going to get an apology, you figure there’s other ways to get a bit of retribution. You dig your teeth into his bottom lip, grinning against him when you feel the taste of iron spread across your tongue. his hand on your thigh squeezes tightly making you gasp, only allowing him to delve his tongue further into your mouth, acting as though he has a right to it. 

“Bong.” He rasps as he pulls away from you, you take a moment to admire the crimson staining his lips. Reaching down you swipe up the bong, handing it to him and scooting back to avoid being burnt. Watching quietly as he fixes it against his mouth, lighting it and taking a long drag.

It was disgusting really, he always looked  good like this, the only thing rivaling this expression was that faintly proud look he got in his eyes whenever he landed a trick. He pulls the bong away and holds it to the side, looking up at you and tilting his head. 

“What?” You frown as you watch his eyes flicker to your mouth, his message loud and clear. with a sigh you inch forward, letting your lips part, you jump slightly when he surges forward to slot his mouth against yours. You inhale slowly as he exhales, reveling in the taste of the weed and his tongue moving across yours.

“You two sure know how to make it seem like you’re the only ones in the room,” you pull away once more, the two of you turning to look at Iwaizumi settling on the couch beside you, “just wanted to warn you that Mattsun is threatening to come join you two.”

“Tch like hell he is.” Kunimi pulls you closer against his body, only making you groan at the sudden wave of possessiveness.

“You’re not my boyfriend.” You really have no interest in letting Mattsun’s slimy fingers and dirty dick anywhere near you, but skipping out on the opportunity to piss Kunimi off, even just a little, would be a waste. you raise a brow as his head falls back against the couch, reddening eyes observing you lazily.

“You want me to be or something?” You ignore the snicker that falls from Iwaizumi beside you two and narrow your eyes at the man underneath you.

“So you can fuck off and forget i exist for another month again? Yeah right.” The flash of anger fades quickly when you start to feel the headiness that comes with your high swirl through you. 

“I'll make it up to you,” the statement punctuated with both of his hands sliding further up your shirt, “mouth.”

“Kunimi.”

“Mouth.” you swipe your tongue over your lips before relenting, letting your jaw drop and your tongue loll out a bit. He swipes his tongue against yours before sucking it into his mouth. He lets out a low groan as you grind down against him and throw your arms around his neck desperately trying to deepen the kiss.

“Don’t fuck down here again, Oikawa’s room should still be open, he keeps striking out anyway.” You kick your leg blindly, satisfied when you feel your foot make contact and hearing Iwaizumi letting out a curse. 

“Oikawa’s?” Kunimi mutters against your lip, and you hum in agreement, sliding off his lap and pulling him along with you. 

“I better not be able to walk tomorrow or I’m never talking to you again.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 39)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi! I have nothing to say here lol, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy! Love ya!

Today there’s two chapters! You can find Chapter 40 right here

Run if you want to; fight, kick, scream.

You told him the Greeks being alive changed nothing, and while he argued and insisted otherwise, you remained certain. Now, now you realize Ivar was right.

Them being alive meant being an Anassa was not some distant title awaiting for you somewhere in Greece, them being alive meant the Priestess you once were wasn’t allowed to rest amongst the dead where she belonged.

Them being alive meant that there would come a day where your bond to them and your bond to Ivar would pull you in two different directions, and that you would have to let go of one of them.

And now they have come to find you, they call for you with their familiar language and their warm memories and their land of flower fields and nostalgia. And yet at your back is the man you love, and he offers you a lifetime of strange customs and cold nights and his kingdom of iron and death.

And you can’t pretend there isn’t a choice to make for any longer.

You can’t pretend you haven’t known what your choice would be for a long time, maybe since the start of it all.

Because you are asked to give up one night in the familiar warmth of your bedroom and at the same time you are asked to forget for one more night that there isn’t a world past him; and you realize there isn’t a difference between one night and one lifetime.

Fate will drag you home by the wrists, child.

The sky remains the same as the Gods demand you make your choice, the earth is still solid under your feet as you walk the path you have chosen, the wind is biting and cold even if it speaks of the change of spring.

You leave behind a part of you, on the path you didn’t take, on the choice you couldn’t make; and as your heart breaks in two, as your eyes fill with tears, as a part of you dies and descents, you can’t help but think bitterly that the world now should be as changed as you are.

And you realize then, as you force shaking legs to move, that the world didn’t change when Persephone made her choice, but that didn’t mean she didn’t make one.

The skies didn’t tremble and shiver as when Zeus condemned her, the earth wasn’t split in two as when Hades first took her, the fields and flowers didn’t wither and die as when Demeter mourned her.

The world didn’t change, and so the stories never spoke of the day she made her choice. And us mortals were nearsighted enough to believe there hadn’t been a choice to be made.

You know how this tale goes.

You close your eyes tightly against Zephyr’s cries, and your tears leave a burning trail down your skin. When you lick your lips, the salt of your tears tastes sweet, like the sweetest of fruits.

It has been so many years since you were allowed a bite of it, but you still remember what it tasted like. Like the unknown, like freedom, like temptation.

You hold on tightly to the wood at your side, stopping only for a second.

For a second, you can close your eyes and be there again, surrounded by tall stone walls of the temple in a time before the mark of soot and pain on your heart, with the soft lull of the Aegean lapping at the soft sands of the shore filling your ears.

Narses’ warm and raspy voice calmly talking his men through training, the elders’ always-cold and always-soft touches as they passed you by during the day, the wide-eyed look of the younger girls that wanted to become Hiereiai, Galla’s secret smile as you two shared a look and the shine in her dark eyes that spoke of trust and understanding.

But the woman that lived among them is not the woman you are anymore. You haven’t been her for years. Even on the day you were first called Anassa, the woman that could have been it, been their leader and queen, was already dead and gone.

And try as you might, you can’t imagine a life where you can come back to it, to them.

The wood creaks under your tightening grip, and the screech of the falcon rings in your head. And you look back, and whisper an apology.

And close the door.

You once imagined if maybe all of this had been nothing but your descent, and it isn’t too hard to imagine all that has happened to be nothing but the path that leads to your death. That has led to it.

And if the Gods let you, you want for nothing other than this death. Let the Hiereia that died in Eleusis amongst the flames rest with those that perished for her and with her; let the Anassa that out of guilt and the burden of legacy earned a hollow crown die too.

Let you be reborn.

Because you sink into familiar warmth surrounded by an unfamiliar world, and you can’t find it in yourself to wish for anything to be any different.

Drawing your legs up, you curl your body behind Ivar’s, your face buried between his shoulder blades and your eyes shut tightly.

More than once you imagined what a life alongside him could have been, if you had never known the binds of legacy that kept you tethered to Greece and her people. More than once you almost wished for your Fate to had been other, and a world where you could have never been anything other than a healer from the Silk Roads.

You never dared imagine, or wish for, a life at his side after you were made Anassa of the Attic Greeks. It felt like a betrayal of who they wanted you to be, to want to stay at his side, to love him, to see a future in this realm of cold and death.

But that is what you have chosen, that is…what you’ll have.

A murmur of your name, quiet and a little slurred by sleep, and you tighten your hold.

“I’m here,” You promise, an incredulous smile on your lips. And because you can, because you choose to, you vow, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to chase away with the soft sounds of his breaths the cries of the falcon that circles the longhouse almost till nightfall. In your mind, in your dreams, it flies over you with that mournful cry until the morning.

When you wake up it is due to the by now familiar sounds of Ivar moving about the room. When you force yourself to open your eyes, he is already dressed and the braces on his legs safely secured.

He seems to linger, debating with himself whether to leave or to wake you. It is unusual for him to start his day apart from you, and you have made sure in these months to try to be there to offer, if nothing else, a quiet murmur of his name and a smile before he is to leave. You never actually considered it meant much to him, if you’re honest.

When you sit up in the bed, Ivar greets you with a soft mumble of your name, before deciding to lean against one of the nearby tables, watching you as you start your routine as well, patiently waiting for you to walk to him and turn your back for him to lace up your dress.

You turn around, remaining close, and let your hands settle over his chest, idly correcting the way his clothes set over him.

His hand is surprisingly gentle as he tilts your head up. Pale blue eyes search your face, and he asks, “You look tired. Dreams?”

You shake your head, “No, I…Galla was here, last night.”

He blinks, almost owlishly. “Here?”

“Outside Kattegat.”

Whatever ease that was written in his posture, whatever openness that was clear in his eyes; vanish before your eyes and the unfaltering edge of the man that you faced during those first months is all that is left.

And you cannot look at the carefully held distance, the perfected façade of the man in control, so you lower your gaze.

“She came to find you,” It isn’t a question, you know it isn’t, but you can’t help but wonder if a part of him wants you to deny it. You can’t exactly blame or judge him for wanting to believe their return a mistake, if you’re honest. Ivar takes a breath, “You didn’t go.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“They want you with them.”

“But I want to be here.” You sentence, maybe a bit harshly.

You lift your gaze to look into familiar blue eyes, and find a tentative something looking back, something that a less cautious man would let become hope.

Ivar swallows, eyebrows lifting slightly as if to question you, before he keeps the words at bay, lips forming around the beginning of your name but falling short of uttering anything.

Leaving your lips there should be words about how there was never a choice to be made, or how it was something you had chosen a long time ago but never dared admit; there should be promises that you chose, and the world didn’t change but you did and that you do not regret a thing; there should be apologies to the woman you were and the people that loved you for proving right those who said to love a Hiereia of Persephone is a cruel fate; there should be reassurances that you never spoke truer words than when you told him you loved him above anything and above anyone.

But you choke on shame and guilt, and your words are kept at bay not only by the voices of your past demanding to know why you have forsaken them, but by the press of Ivar’s lips on yours.

When you part, he motions for you to go get ready, tells you to get on with your day. You aren’t certain if him holding on to normalcy like this is a good or a bad thing anymore.

____

It was always frighteningly easy, to forget there was a world past him, but as you step out of the longhouse, the cloak wrapped tightly around you, you cannot help but take your eyes to the skies, searching for a bird, a messenger, that you know won’t be there.

You told her you’d be there if they needed you, you told her to send Zephyr to the skies with the certainty that you’d answer the call. But the time came, and when they needed you and he needed you, the choice was frighteningly easy, and you couldn’t answer their call.

You notice the cold in your hands when delicate and dainty fingers wrap around yours, and Freydis’ deep blue eyes look at you with countless questions. You realize then you’ve walked to the edge of the city, and stand before the tallest stretch of the wall, the barrier to the forest, to another realm, to a life you had left behind long before you were brave enough to admit you had.

Freydis doesn’t say anything, taking you to her home with the same ease as that night when she guided you through darkened streets to the place where you could cross that barrier and embrace your oldest friend and remember what the warmth of Eleusis felt like.

You stand in the small and humble home, and you cannot keep the words from your lips,

“You saw Zephyr, you saw the...the falcon, right?”

“I did,” She confirms, unwaveringly honest as she adds, “I went past the walls, I met the woman. Galla.”

That she did what you did not should hurt you, should make the pit of shame and guilt at the base of your stomach grow tighter, but you only have breath for one question,  

“D-Did she tell you why she was here? What did they need, wh-…?”

“She is well, and so are the rest, as far as she told me,” At her silence you almost want to ask for more, but the blonde is quicker, and explains, “That is all you need to know. That is all you want to know.”

You drop down on the chair behind you, your head held in your hands and your breaths shaking their way past your lips.

“That’s unfair.” You say, but she remains impassive, unnerving you.

“You could have gone to them, but you didn’t.”

“No,” You are forced to accept, the word leaving your lips in a breath. Lifting your head, you state, “Freydis, I-…they needed me, and I…”

“And you stayed with him.” Freydis finishes for you, but there isn’t bite in her tone, there isn’t an accusation. You almost wish there were.

You grit your teeth at the sob that threatens to break free, but pride and something else keep you from closing your eyes tight, stubborn resilience and something else make you straighten your back and raise your chin.

“I did.”

Freydis betrays a smile. It is faint, it is still tainted with something like pain and something hidden.

“And do you regret it?”

And past the loss of the familiar, past the unsteadiness of walking without chains, past the guilt of making a choice…you smile.

The answer that leaves your lips is unwavering, “No.”

The blonde’s smile widens, and her eyes crinkle a little bit when she does, dark blue shining more vibrant than you have seen in a long time.

“You chose, and you chose him.”

“I did.” You tell her, smile wobbling but honest.

She sits down in front of you, voice quiet and eyes on yours with an openness born out of too many similar scars. Her hand grasps yours and she squeezes tightly.

“Freedom is a terrifying thing, isn’t it?”

____

You find yourself following your routine -the world didn’t shake, or tremble, or change- and you enter the apothecary home, grateful for the reprieve from the biting cold of Kattegat’s winter.

“Witch!” Valdís calls out, her grudge against you for making Aghi insist that his mother dip him in the river like Thetis did to Achilles seemingly forgotten for the time being.

You greet her with a smile, and as she tells you she is working on some remedies for fever for a family near the outskirts of Kattegat whose five children came down with a sickness due to the winter; you sit next to her and start helping.

“My boy has stopped insisting I drown him in some river, by the way.”

“It is not drowning, it i-…”

“I really don’t care, witch,” She interrupts, but there’s jest in her tone, not malice, and you only roll your eyes at her, but still smile. The shieldmaiden chuckles, “At least he has forgotten about that, and about threatening the sun with arrows. Aghi won’t let go about that boat of black sails, though.”

“Theseus?”

“The idiot that forgot to change the sails for white ones.”

Gods, for a moment it is like talking with Sieghild once again.

With a nod of your head, you confirm, “Theseus.”

Valdís shares a reluctant smile with you, fond exasperation in her pale gaze.

“Frigg help me, my boy will go raiding one day and insist they put white sails on his boats.”

For the first time you let yourself imagine it, seeing Valdís’ son grow to become a man. Seeing him go raid and explore when the time comes.

Unbidden, Aghi’s image in your mind is replaced by images of children of your own, children that too will one day grow and go raid and explore, maybe alongside their father, maybe even alongside Aghi.

And maybe they will insist on putting white sails on their boats for the sake of their foreign woman of a mother that waits for them to return.

And for once the dream doesn’t seem impossible, for once the hope doesn’t have to fight against nostalgia.

____ ____ ____

Soooo...? I’m really curious to know whether her choice surprised you or not tbh

Of course, there’s the particular aspect of telling him, but she’ll get there. Let it be known that she tried to tell him, but he didn’t wanna hear it bc pessimism. Anyhow, I hope this was okay, I’m not so sure but I hope it’s just my insecurity talking. Thank you for reading!

You can find the second part of today’s update, Chapter 40, right here!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss   @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​   @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside  

[izzabeean]

Chapter 4 : Bitter

SUMMARY

Oikawa tries to distract you upon finding out about your break-up and it does seem to be working but only for a moment...

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,146

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n :  I feel like things are picking up and I’m so excited for what this fic has in store! Apologies for the slow beginning, this truly is a slow burn. *NOTE: Kuri dorayaki is a traditional Japanese sweet, pancake-like bun with red bean paste and roasted chestnut filling.

masterlist

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Barely an hour goes by before Oikawa jumps at the chance to spend the day with you out and about in the city; it's not often he’s had the opportunity to, especially when you and Ushijima were together making most of your weekend's busy spending time with him. Of course, you were quite keen on spending the day inside, finding ways to forget the severe emptiness festering within, but Oikawa's excitement couldn't be ignored and with that, you agreed to spend the day out with him.

Honestly, if it weren’t for Oikawa's pestering, you wouldn’t have realized how much the fresh air fills you with ease a s you walk down the street listening to him babbling about his evening with Iwaizumi. Normally you are a very attentive listener, engrossed in his dramatic details, but today you found it very difficult to listen intently. Your attention shifted to the pairs of people passing by; some hand-in-hand, some giggling, and the sight makes sick to your stomach.

All these couples in love getting to spend time together. It’s so repulsive.

And you're bitter.

Bitter because you wish you had that. Bitter because you used to have that. Bitter because you miss Ushijima.

And because you miss him, you can't help but think back to when you first showed interest in each other. At that time, you and Ushijima had a weird friendship, actually, you weren’t really sure what it was as he only spoke to you at school. Topics didn’t stray far from assignments or classes, so it was very odd when he asked you to hang out one morning off of campus.  

“You didn’t have to wake me up so early,” you groan curled up in the passenger's seat of Ushijima’s car. Your eyes are heavy, as you press your forehead against the cold window examining the long outstretch of highway lit by the sky just moments before dawn breaks. Looking over to Ushijima you notice not a trace of fatigue that filters his eyes as they remain focused on the road ahead. 

“What is there to even do at 6 in the morning?” you yawn.

The sudden wake-up call was earlier than anticipated, you should’ve clarified that morning for you was 9 AM. But to Ushijima hammering his fist on your door was a more productive way to wake you up rather than a call or text. Truthfully, he found the results to be much more amusing and knew you could not ignore him.

“We had to in order to arrive on time,” he booms flatly, quickly casting a glance at you.

Your face contorts with irritation at the vague response and question if this is just a planned kidnapping. Maybe you were exaggerating a bit... Still, nothing else seemed reasonable.

“Well, will you at least tell me where we’re going?” you lash.

“We will be there soon,” he replies, calm and cool to your aggressive tone.

Crossing your arms in impatience, you scoff at his response then continue to look out of the window listening to the low murmur from the radio. 

It’s not much longer until Ushijima pulls into a gravel lot at the side of the road and parks. 

“We’re here,” he says getting out of the vehicle.

You tilt your head quizzically scanning your destination which is basically out in the mind of nowhere. Ushijima pops open the passenger door waiting for you to get out.

"Is this a joke?" you rasp.

"Just follow me," he says trying to hold back the irritation in his voice.

Unbuckling the seatbelt, you slide out of the vehicle and follow him, hopeful that there’s more to this deserted parking lot than just a dusty road. 

And there is because your eyes are met with a breathless view above the town. All at once, your doubts fade as the sun begins to rise at the atmosphere’s edge, drenching the houses and buildings in its golden glow. Everything feels so peaceful.

“This is beautiful,” you breathe, sincerely in awe of the picturesque sight. 

You are an idiot.

“Not gonna lie, I thought this was a kidnapping,” you joke.

Ushijima casts a confused glance at you, unable to understand what you were getting at. “I was told to take a girl I like to an intimate spot.”

A girl he likes? Oh.

Did he bring you here for advice? A hint of jealousy surfaces at the thought that Ushijima has his eyes set on someone else. And you wonder what his true intent was for bringing you here. 

“Maybe tell her where you’re going so she doesn’t get the wrong idea,” you tease.

“Tell who? You didn’t like the surprise?”

You blink. “Me?”

It never crossed your mind that you could be the one he likes. Obviously, he’s hot and every time he says your name your heart skips a beat, but you never thought anything of it.

“Yes.” 

Ushijima takes a step forward closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze is a lot warmer than usual evoking a strong pull at your heartstrings. You know your personality can be quite cold and temperamental, sometimes even hostile, but there was something more underlying your cheeky, sarcastic comments. Ushijima brought out a side to you that no one else really could.

A slight breeze picks up pushing your hair in your face, to which Ushjima leans in tucking the strand behind your ear. 

“Your hair was in your face, thought I should move it so I could see you better,” he utters.

He’s close, the closest he's ever been, and you're hot. 

You stare at him wide-eyed soaking in the electric chemistry floating in the air. You think your heart might stop as his hand moves under your jaw to tilt your face up at him while the other touches the small of your back bringing you closer; his touch is warm and soft cascading tingles down your body. Then he leans in even closer to gently press a kiss on your lips.  

“Hey! Pay attention!” 

Oikawa’s yell snaps you out of the nostalgia bringing you back to your walk with him in the city. But your daze only causes you trouble because you spot a bike unwavering from its path heading towards you. Your brain screams, telling you to move or do something, but your body freezes in place--all you sense is fear. 

Suddenly, your arm is yanked from the side, and with a yelp, you’re pulled to safety. It was unlike you to be so out of it, but you didn’t realize how much Ushijima occupied your thoughts until that moment. 

A lump forms in your throat as the cyclist passes you and you could hear him mumbling under his breath how unobservant pedestrians can be. 

“That was close,” Oikawa jokes.

His words startle you as you come to the realization that Oikawa’s arms are wrapped around your body. You look up at him as he stares down at you with his shit-eating grin that says “I just saved your ass big time .” Your eyebrow twitches at his expression and pry yourself away from his grip.

“I’m not going to thank you!” you shout, angrily. 

“Wow, so cruel Y/N-chan,” he whines with a giggle.

His laugh is all-consuming as you feel overwhelmed with frustration. It’s just like Oikawa to make everything completely insufferable, now you weren’t going to hear the end of it, of how he saved you from getting hit by a bike. He always knew the right way to get under your skin.

“Y/N-chan,” Oikawa calls, pointing to a vendor on the corner of the street selling kuri dorayaki*. “Would you like one?” 

Swiftly, the sweet smell fills your nose and the scent reminds you of your childhood, strolling with your family under the gold and crimson trees while the earthy, caramel air nips at you through your clothing. 

But you’re hesitant to give in to his peace offering. 

You didn’t want to be bribed, but as the flavors continue to float through the air, you could hear your stomach start grumbling.

Before you had a chance to oppose, Oikawa takes his wallet out while walking up to the food stand to purchase a couple of treats; one for you and one for him. Upon returning, he hands it to you and motions to take a seat on a bench nearby.

“What do I owe you?” you ask.

Oikawa waves his hands in the air, “Nothing, it’s on me.

You pause. The city noise rang in your ears as the sun gleams down blanketing you in warmth. It almost feels strange, having him be so nice, after all, teasing each other has become so routine that the pressure to say something nice resides in your chest. You don’t know what’s overcome you, you normally never second guess what to say to Oikawa, but his kindness really stunned you.

As the steam rolls off causing your mouth to water in anticipation of the flavors, you sink your teeth into the delicious pancake-like bun. The taste of the sweet red bean and chestnut coats your mouth bringing a sense of warmth inside washing away the feelings of anger and frustration. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, under your breath licking your lips. 

Oikawa smiles in response, “Anything for you!” 

Just as you were about to take another bite, you pause peering at a familiar figure across the street-- the only figure you could recognize from a mile away.

Ushijima.

“Do you not like it?” Oikawa looks at you with an uncharacteristic flash of concern.

You don’t reply as you keep your eyes locked on your ex who is in front of a bakery you’ve walked past a million times, standing next to a girl you’ve never seen before. It’s almost unbearable as she wraps her arm around his looking in the window at all the decadent sweets on display. You are nearly consumed with agony at the sight but can’t stop looking while he turns to fix her hair for her.

Just like how he used to with you.

Your gaze must have been burning because as he looks up in your direction. He pauses blankly staring; it’s the same look he’s always given you--stony and daunting--but it feels much more unsettling. And now you know, that he knows you’ve seen too much.

Your eyes dart back to Oikawa who’s traced your eye line to where you’ve been looking. You can tell he’s anticipating some sort of reaction, but all you do is look back to find Ushijima gone.

Your heart sinks.

Everything makes sense now.

“Isn’t that--” 

"Do you know her?" you cut Oikawa off quickly reverting to desperation. A sense of betrayal fills you as you study his face, noticing he looks like he wants to say something but is holding back.

"No," he scoffs, not sounding the slightest bit convincing. It's the kind of ‘no’ you give to someone you want to let down easy or you want to avoid telling the truth to. 

"Don't lie to me," you say, firmly.

Oikawa pauses.

The suspense feels like it could kill you as you watch the wheel in his head turn, trying to piece together the right thing to say. 

“Have you met the transfer student?” Oikawa softly asks. "I've seen her around campus but didn't realize…"

Transfer student? 

Your heart drops as the words echo in your head leaving the rest of Oikawa's explanation to fade in the background. 

“You’re joking,” you state plainly, unable to process the information and when Oikawa doesn't answer you know he's not. 

It wasn’t like Ushijima to leave you for someone else, not even the slightest sliver of you can believe it. He respected you and cared for you, was the one who initially made a move on you. How could that all just change, like a flick of a switch? Yet, it did and last night you were met with a Ushijima you didn’t know. He was cold and distant, unreadable to the point you were convinced he could be a stranger. But, of course, the evidence was right in front of you as to why. There was someone better.

Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do. You know immediately Ushijima doesn’t owe you an explanation because you weren’t together anymore.

"Let's go," you whisper, getting up from the bench turning to Oikawa.

“You know, you don’t have to deal with this alone,” Oikawa breathes, quietly

The sentiment is almost dumbfounding to the point your nerves start to jitter. Admitting your worries to Oikawa wasn’t going to do you any good. 

You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh to suppress your embarrassment.

“Thanks.”

And there it is again, that smile he knows it’s forced, but he doesn’t tell you. It’s not worth causing you more pain than you’ve already been in.

[leporellian]

“do you believe in destiny, featherpaw?”

the molly clicks her tongue and looks to the starry-eyed skylight, mulling her brother’s question. it was one of those spur-of-the-moment questions that children ask and then forget about, their tail brushing for a moment against something greater than their skin and then slinking away.

“i don’t think i believe in destiny, stormpaw. but the stars up there are pretty anyways.”

-

stormkit is thrust into the world with his mother’s blood on the back of the ears. he cannot see, but through his muffled ears he hears commotion, and he feels a brazen tongue clean him as he wails for something he cannot describe.

for a second, in the darkness of his newborn blindness he sees something shimmering before him. he barely manages to tilt his head up and sees the thin outline of a starclan cat, presiding over a warm body that smells of milk.

this is destiny, stormkit. this is purpose.

another moment and the shimmering shape that smells of the forest’s whispers disappears, and stormkit only knows that something is missing. he wails again, and again and again, into the pit of blackness that he will forget about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

do you believe in destiny?

- 

death has many scents. some are haunting yet serene, daring at a world beyond, like at the moonstone. some can only be described as thick and earth-shattering, like the mist of a battlefield cleared.

but the bonehill’s smell of death was one of rot and finality. it had no grace except for that possessed by the tabby tom who sat at the top, his eyes glittering with control and a speck of fear.

stormpaw’s eyes are transfixed on his mentor, watching as the rubble-colored tom stares down the tabby. his skeleton is on the outside looking in, and his eyes look as if they have a ripple’s rings about them. he knows that stonefur will be ordered to kill him, and yet he hopes against hope that something else will happen, that the bonehill will fade away and stormpaw will wake up in the apprentice’s den with featherpaw beside him like it was all a nightmare that lingered beyond its time, and yet-

‘you’ll have to kill me first, tigerstar.’

the area becomes a blur as two cats, and then three and then one, fling themselves at each other. he could hear stonefur mutter something about being the captain of his own soul- or something, stormpaw could not hear above the roar of blood and the growling sound of claws ripping through fur- and then the tom was gone, his body splayed out across the grass, . stormpaw felt dizzy as he saw a spot of blood that had flown an odd way across his leg.

and then- he saw a thin outline of starclan, and he knew he had seen it before but could not name the place or time.

this is the chosen life. remember it, stormpaw.

-

stormfur’s only dream is of that destiny. he seeks it like a kitten seeking mother’s milk. 

sometimes his clanmates make fun of him for it. “you shouldn’t be so hung up on being starclan’s chosen one,” jokes heavystep. “you young whippersnappers are always lookin’ to be in a prophecy. between you and hawkpaw all i ever hear about is destiny! if you want to know what prophecy really does look at firestar at the next gathering. poor bastard’s already getting white hairs.”

but stormfur hopes. he isn’t sure if it’s the debt he must pay to stonefur, or atonement for his mother’s death. but he knows he wants even a drop of destiny on his pelt. he wants to prove himself.

one night, he sees that familiar thin starry figure again, on a night where his den is just a little too misshapen to sleep on, and he approaches it, his eyes brimming with awe and a haunting sense of- what was it- nostalgia?

but the spirit does not notice him.

its tail brushes against his sleeping sister

and then it is gone.

-

the journey is, stormfur admits, not as difficult as he thought. sure, he would not have believed it if he had told himself a moon ago that he’d talk to a badger and  walk through a mountain, but compared to other things in his life he could never predict it certainly isn’t the most unpleasant- the smell of the bonehill still reeks in the back of his mind.

but somehow he is no longer sure of whether he trusts starclan.

feathertail acts different now. gone was the spark of rebellion and the flame of defiance in her eyes- now, bland starlight peppered them. her fur, which she once prided in for its shagginess, is now uncharacteristically silky. she felt... sterile? stormfur wasn’t sure how to describe it.

she always talked of destiny now, and of fate. she was always eager to see what her fate ultimately was.

the spirits also keep leading her to that windclan boy. there’s something about the windclan boy that stormfur doesn’t trust- perhaps it’s the three odd glints of white light in his eyes or the scent of holly on his breath.

but still, stormfur grasps in the air for that concept of a destiny beyond, something so powerful and profound he struggles to describe it. and when the tribe cats look at him like he’s a messiah- the clan-saving silver cat the stars told of- he finally thinks he’s about to feel it.

but something tells him this is not the feeling he wanted.

-

the sharptooth looks like a caricature. its claws and teeth are grotesque- something perhaps a particularly daring queen would make up for a story to keep her kits from wandering into the woods- and scars cover its shoulders and nose like nettle. its growling sounds almost like feline speak, but so distorted that its exact words are never clear.

“i think if we corner it-” stormfur began to instruct, but he stopped once he looked up to see fetahertail, at the top of the cave, focused on the spikes above, her ears flicking as the spirits whisper into it, and one of them pushes on  her side and another kicks at her feet, and then, and then-

she is falling, and time is fast yet slow, and she slams into the spikes, and she is falling, and she is falling, and she is falling, and then there's a crash, and the sharptooth falls to the floor, and then-

the only thing stormfur remembers, next, is standing over his sister’s dead body. her chin was ajar, blood pooling around it into a perfect circle.

the fur was silky.

stormfur looks up. the spirits. they were here now. so many of them, each carefully examining the body like a hunter analyzing its catch.

stormfur does not have the energy to think. but he has the energy to speak.

“DOES THIS SEEM RIGHT?!?” he challenges them, his face dripping with tears. “IS THIS DESTINY? TO THROW AWAY YOURSELF JUST TO GET A TASTE OF THE CHOSEN LIFE?  BECAUSE IF IT IS, I DON’T WANT IT.” 

You must, Stormfur.

“DOES THAT FEEL RIGHT?!?”

Stormfur, this is destiny.

“I TOLD YOU, I DON’T WANT IT. LEAVE.” he is surrounded by spirit after spirit, begging him, pleading with him, and then he shuts his eyes- and when they are open, the spirits are gone and the air smells clear.

the air, he thinks, has not smelled clear for a long time.

-

“do you believe in destiny, dad?”

the tom clicks his tongue and looks to the starry-eyed skylight, mulling his daughter’s question. it was one of those spur-of-the-moment questions that children ask and then forget about, their tail brushing for a moment against something greater than their skin and then slinking away.

there’s a haunted look in stormfur’s eyes, but it is soon replaced by a bittersweet warmth. he clutches a plumy gray feather under one paw.

“i don’t think i believe in destiny, lark. but the stars up there are pretty anyways.”

[obeymeaskme]

Obey Me!: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: lol, I fell asleep when I was supposed to upload this. Anyway, remember to check my pinned post for all the chapters!

Chapter 5: Asmo Needs a Savior! (1/2)

Word count: 1,329

Rating: 18+

It was only a couple months since Bella and Noelle had, unintentionally, made it into the RAD program. The mess over Noelle's magical barrier had been completely resolved and the bond between everyone got stronger. While Noelle and Leviathan spent their time catching up on the latest anime and video games, Bella and Belphegor already had their own friendship blossoming. Even with Beelzebub in tow, it was apparent they were getting closer.

During one evening, on a particular calm day, the peace in the house was broken.

"AHHHHH!"

The sounds of heavy objects and screeching could be heard throughout the house. The high pitched scream came from none other than Asmodeus. Already in a frantic panic, he was spotted on his bed by Belphegor and Bella. The sight was amusing as Asmo was on his hands and knees trying to peer over the foot of his bed. Once he realized the two had been standing there snickering, he took the opportunity to ask for a saviour.

"Don't just stand there and laugh! Help me! I'm in obvious peril!"

Bella shrugged at Belphegor after they scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of place and no one was in sight. Belphie suppressed his chuckle as he investigated the situation.

"What is it that has you so spooked?"

"It's a creepy little rodent! I think it's one of those scummy little dust eaters!"

Bella looked at Asmo confused.

"What's a Dust Eater?"

"Oh hunny! They're nasty little vermin that like to eat dust and chew through cotton and wool, and more importantly my clothing! Look at these holes!"

Asmo sat up and stretched out the white cardigan he was sporting, showing the various sizes in holes that had been obviously chewed in.

"Do you know how expensive this cardigan was!? When I find that little demon I'm going to string it by it's [CENSORED]!"

Belphie had cupped Bella's ears, giving Asmo a stern stare, warning him to calm down. He was then instructed to look under the bed as his older brother cowardly hid on the blankets. With a slow motion he snagged the creature and held it out for everyone to see.

It was a small, blue, imp like creature that was covered in dust. It wagged its crescent ended tail as it happily shoved the dust into its mouth. Cautiously Bella looked over Belphie's shoulder. A small gasp of adoration coming from her lips.

"It's so cute!"

The Dust Eater's overly sized bat ears twitched, and turned its attention to the sound of her voice. With a tilt of the head it leaped from Belphie's palm and scurried up to Bella's shoulder. Upon finding it's balance it sniffed and nibbled at her cheek.

"Aw- it's so friendly! How can you be so scared of something so sweet?"

Asmo huffed at her in exaggeration.

"Because it ate through my clothes! And the worst part is where there is one, more are sure to follow!"

Belphegor smiled and scratched underneath the intruder's chin, earning a very tiny purr.

"Not exactly. They only show up in groups when it's mating time. They're not usually social with their own kind. A lot of demon's use them as familiars to keep castles clean."

"Oh! Of course you'd know something like that! Just get rid of it!"

Bella frowned and followed Belphie out into the hall, and down the stairs outside. Though not wanting to release it, she agreed it would be better off not to deal with any further infestations. But no matter how many times she placed it on the ground, it ran back and crawled over her body until it found it's rightful spot on her shoulder. Even after the attempt to let Belphegor handle it the Dust Eater found its way back, and proved to be too quick to catch. Slowly the two realized how attached it was to Bella and decided to keep an eye on it until Lucifer came back.

In the meantime, Belphegor had hidden the three of them in the twin's bedroom. Together they played a couple card games, and Bella made it a goal to keep the avatar of sloth awake. The afternoon went by fast and the front door opened and closed with a loud echo, signalling the return of the eldest. Even still Bella and Belphegor waited for him to settle in before meeting up in his office.

The large room was rather tasteful and almost mimicked the style of a 1920's office, but with a more morbid and gothic spin. The dark red and black walls just barely conflicted with the brighter red carpet with a fancy intricate cream colored damask pattern. The desk was traditional and stained in a dark chestnut color. Even with Lucifer sitting in the red wheely chair, Bella couldn't look away from the giant animal skull that hung on the wall in between the two large windows.

After a few seconds went by, Lucifer finally acknowledged their presence.

"Sit."

The two of them sat at the provided leather chairs. Neither of them spoke until Lucifer sat his pen down, his back resting against the chair.

"What happened, and how much will it cost to fix?"

The exhaustion was already evident on his face, but he soon relaxed as they explained the situation. As if amused Lucifer leaned forward keeping his chin on his hand. Bella had eventually pulled the small creature from her pocket and asked the obvious question.

"What should we do with it?"

"Usually I would say to just find a field far enough away from here and take a taxi or have Mammon or Beel drive you there, but it seems that this Dust Eater is too young to survive on their own. They're also a protected species in our area of Devildom due to the high population. The next step would be to find a good home for it."

Bella immediately jumped from her chair in excitement.

"Does that mean I get to keep it?"

Lucifer stood up and dusted off his vest as he smirked at her.

"I think it's more along the lines of it keeping you."

Bella looked down at the Dust Eater in her hands. A small sense of nostalgia came over her and she muttered a single word under her breath.

"Chip."

Belphegor gave a small snort and Lucifer raised an eyeblbrow at her.

"People do not usually name them, are you sure you want to get so attached?"

Bella nodded her head with enthusiasm. So much so that neither Demon could tell her otherwise. It didn't matter anyway as she was too entertained with nuzzling it and doting over it. It was then explained the gender, which was male, and though it had imprinted to her, in a few months it would develop the desire to wander off and mate. As to whether or not it would return was unknown.

During dinner Noelle had forced Levi to switch seats and the rest of the brothers chuckled and entertained themselves by watching the two girls fawn over the small pest, much to Asmodeus' dismay.

"I can't believe you let her keep it!"

Lucifer sighed at him, and offered a small bit of "reassurance".

"You're lucky we found it. With it being so young it needed a mother. Unless you wanted to find it's tiny corpse hidden in your closet?"

Bella gave Lucifer a terrified look, and Asmo gave him a dissatisfied huff.

"That's gross for one thing! What if it multiplies!"

Satan slammed his silverware on the table, glaring at Asmo.

"How many times do we need to explain that can't happen. They're not social creatures so even if we had a small infestation they'd move out as soon as they came. You'd be surprised at the rage of territory they have. Why do you think they're endangered here? There's not enough space for them with all the buildings around. You'll just have to tough it out and accept it."

[harritudur]

I HAD A FLASHBACK OF SOMETHING THAT NEVER EXISTED

4167 words + mature + no beta, we die like men!

*what if* before confronting Adam after having read the last pages of Claudia’s notebook, Noah decides to go further in the future? maybe in 2032 -i don't know why or how tho, but i completely take responsibility for this plot hole lol- and he meets with Elli (22) and a younger-himself (29) which are in a relationship since four years?

ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/26290792

—

2032, post-apocalypse world

—

A déjà-vu.

Elisabeth had been ten the first time she had met him under an heavy rain. Now, it was like if the ghost had decided to reappear in front of her again. And by his demeanor, it wouldn't be surprising if this Noah was a walking corpse.

Because he was not her Noah. This one, dressed like a priest, was older, years of experience on his face, and looked incommensurable exhausted, like if he had seen and done more than anyone. But his eyes- his eyes were the same eyes Elisabeth had seen a few minutes ago when leaving their cabin to check the traps. Blue. Icy. But gentle and kind when looking at her.

And she understood. He travelled from the future. Or the past.

Elisabeth.

She could read her name on his lips but not the expression on his face. Maybe she was a ghost for him as well?

Elisabeth.

He repeated the name again and walked forward, stretching forth a trembling hand. The next few seconds passed in a blur, just like the many questions going through Elisabeth's head, and the more he was getting closer, the more her heart broke. Something terrible happened, and she was frightened, not sure of wanting to know the reasons of his watery eyes, of her absence by his side, of the trembling lips when he stood finally a few inches from her. She didn't step back. How could she, when Noah -no matter his age, his world, his motivation- looked so desperate.

Very slowly, Elisabeth brought a hand to rest on his cheek and he leaned into it, craving her touch. He shut his eyes and she pulled him in close, putting his forehead against hers.

—

Her Noah was in their cabin made of bits and pieces, getting the fire going again when she entered, and he instantly stood up, a fire-iron in hands when he saw a shadow following her.

He froze, his eyes widening almost comically.

Him. 

The apparition sent the younger man back into the past, in Erna’s tavern, more than 10 years from now (or a century, depending of the point of view). A curious feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach.

The two men observed one another, pondering the next move.

I know our social skills are a bit rusty, but this is N-O-T how we welcome a guest, Eisabeth signed to her Noah before moving to stand by his side. She linked her fingers with his and looked at the other man with genuine kindness. You can stay here. After all, it is technically your place as well.

The older Noah nodded once, his lips curling up only the slightest bit. 

Still, his younger self observed him without a reaction -for such a long time Elisabeth thought he was never going to reply, or worse, was going to chase the ‘intruder’ out. Green eyes set upon him with disapproval, he gave up.

“Of course,” the words sounded fake. "Make yourself at home.”

—

The three of them sat by the wood-burner, drinking bad homemade alcohol. Elisabeth and Noah shared a chair built out of an old mattress, while the older Noah sat on a stool, his eyes traveling between the cup in his hands, the fire, and the couple.

After a few questions that their guest eluded with talent, silence reigned. Outside was the dull sound of the rain, clashing against the roof of corrugated iron, and, when the noise ceased, the two Noahs looked up at the ceiling in perfect sync. Elisabeth smiled at herself at the sight.

A sudden shiver of cold ran through her back and both men’s attention instantly focused on her. The younger one pulled her against him, one arm tightening around her shoulder to warm away the cold as their sides aligned. Elisabeth looked up at him with affection, took another sip of liquor and then turned to face the other one.

Not very tasty but it helps to keep you warm. On the other hand, I have nothing to compare it to, she signed to their guest, and her smile slightly dimmed down. But... I guess you already know that.

The older man nodded, his eyes softening.

“Yes,” his voice and hands answered, “I know that.”

Elisabeth grinned and drank once more, leaning back into her lover's hold.

We met before. I mean..., she meant that rainy day in the forest. Why the priest outfit? 

Again, the slightest curl appeared on his lips at Elisabeth’s inquisitiveness.

It helps to earn the trust of people, he justified easily, a certain distance in his explanation. Most people claim they don’t believe in God, but they do show respect to a man of God. Paradox.

Then, his right hand moved up to his roman collar and his fingers started to remove the constraint. The white band gone, he undid the first button of his shirt and drank again, his eyes on Elisabeth over the rim of his can. 

She hold the gaze -this familiar and comforting icy blue gaze- and tilted her head.

A heavy silence fell upon them. There would be no more answers from him.

—

Anyone would be jealous -or at least defensive- over the way their guest looked at Elisabeth. But here the thing: this other man and him were one.

Noah observed how his older-self couldn't avert his eyes from her, like a drowning man looking at dry land. With an abyssal desire, starved of touch, and undying love. He recalled a few moments of jealousy, the resentment he had felt years ago -when Elisabeth and Jonas had shared a loud laugh over a 21th century detail Noah couldn't grasp ; or when Jonas had offered her a hand after a little slip in the mud, when he was the one supposed to take care of her ; or when she had confessed that she'd had a boyfriend before him... The corruption of jealousy was known. And, despite the evident thirst in this older man (this older him), he notably felt not a fragment of it. On the contrary. 

A part of him took pride in this idea -the idea that after decades, Elisabeth was still his compass.

The soft frame pressed against his side elbowed him, and Elidabeth's eyes flicked down on her empty mettalic glass to ask for more. Noah grabbed the jar on the ground, already light, and refilled their three cups. 

—

After two hours around the fireplace drinking their awful booze, the already non-existent conversation was dying, as well as their senses. Elisabeth was still comfortably settled against her Noah, and he was running his fingers through her hair, out of habit.

They didn't mind their special guest at all, who remained silent and kept observing the couple, nostalgia and yearning on his features. Eventually, he put down his glass and focused on the twenty-two years old woman. She felt his stare on her (as she always did) and turns her eyes to meet his.

Can I kiss you? he signed.

During a fraction of second, she almost glimpsed the hesitant boy she had kissed for the first time five years ago, and a soft laugh escaped her lips. Her head was light with liquor and, after a last gulp that emptied her cup, Elisabeth cocked her head to look up at her lover with a silent question. Of course she could do many things without his approval -going hunting alone at night, disappearing during hours to scavenge in risky places, walking under the rain without a hood despite his many looks of disapproval. But, here and now, there was a kiss at stake.

You know it's not cheating if it's you, Elisabeth signed with a smirk, her ears red.

Both men looked at each other over her blond's head, and there was a silent conversation, a mutual understanding. Unfailing care in the eyes of the younger man, hopeless need in the eyes of the older one. Love in both.

Young Noah nodded at the request.

In one slow movement, Elisabeth left her Noah's warmth and straightened up to shift closer of his older version. There was flush on his cheeks and a veil before his dark eyes, partly due to the alcohol. His gaze lingered for long seconds on her chapped lips, giving Elisabeth chance to back off, and he delighted on the fact that she didn't do it. He leant in slowly, pressed his lips to hers, and it was like breathing fresh air again after years under water.

To Elisabeth' surprise, the kiss tasted the same as it always did: a mix of smoky aftertaste of alcohol and dried meat, with sweat and the peculiar manly musk he always carried. She closed her eyes and couldn't tell the difference.

It was Noah.

The kiss gradually heated up as lips, teeth and tongues got involved, and he laced one of his hands into unwhashed blonde hair and wrapped the other around her neck. She followed suit without hesitation.

In peripheral, between sips of bad liquor, the younger man observed them, fascinated and terrified by the sight. Fascinated, because he was able to witness Elisabeth's reactions in their entirety without being part of the performance, to see how her body molded perfectly against his despite it being a different version.

And terrified, because the desesperation in the kisses of his older self translated need and pain and absence and desire. When was the last time he saw his Elisabeth? What changed him? What changed me? The same unanswered questions he had asked himself before his first time travel.

Elisabeth softly moaned between kisses, and the younger man recognized the familiar sound, the familiar call. She wanted more.

—

From his chair by the fireplace, the older Noah tried to avert his eyes but they never left them.

The young couple stumbled on their makeshift mattress, Elisabeth's back pushed into the cushion by the weight of her lover's body on top of her. Tee-shirts and pants were still on, hands disappearing underneath as fingers found their way to warm skin.

This night had always remained a dissonance in Noah's memory, convinced of it non-existence -like a fairytale, or a dream, or the result of too much alcohol combined with exhaustation and hormones. His consciousness had locked the memory of it inside a chest at the back of his mind to preserve his sanity.

But now, every detail of the coming hours sprang into abrupt definition.

Elisabeth wrapped her legs around her Noah's waist as he trailed feather-light kisses up her neck and jaw and, she must have sensed his older version looking at them (at her). Her eyes found his.

Without a second thought, she reached her hand out to invite him to join them (join her).

Above the young woman, Noah glanced over his shoulder. Once more, the same mutual understanding bonded the two men, a mutual need of her that none of them could or wanted to resist. A prudent nod, and the younger man pressed back his tongue on Elisabeth's neck. The older one stood up from his spot by the fire and took the hand offered to him.

—

Being the center of every attention, Elisabeth was the first one fully naked. Her Noah pressed his chest behind her, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt him murmuring something against the nape of her neck, before dropping a wet kiss.

Thery were both facing the older version of him, the three of them on their knees on the mattress.

He was Noah. A different one, an older one. But still, it was him. The hunger in his eyes as they raked all over her naked form, the lips slightly parted, the rise and fall of his chest... same reactions than the boy she loved. It was him.

The two men exchanged a glance which she didn't grasp every implication, and the older one moved closer to kiss her. She greeted him in full. From behind, the younger Noah’s hands clenched around her, his still covered hips grinding against hers, pressing with sensuality while his tongue drew intricate figures on her shoulder.

Elisabeth shut her eyes at the sensation, and gasped. Two pairs of hands on her, two pairs of lips, the roughness of their calloused fingers against her skin, their good-natured greediness, but the same man –it all left her breathless.

Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and she bit her bottom lip in bliss.

—

Elisabeth was leaning back on her Noah, sat, her back against his sweaty chest for support, while the older version of him had his head between her legs.

A steady stream of undefined sounds was escaping her throat at every move of his tongue, only ceasing when the younger man took her lips above her shoulder, swallowing her moans, as his hands went up to cup her breast, their peaks hard under his thumbs.

At the needy (and enthralling) noise Elisabeth made, Noah decided to focus on his older-self's work, to observe his ministrations in awe and interest –awe, for the effects it clearly had on Elisabeth's body, and interest for later uses: his tongue was running along her most secretive place, lapping like a thirsty cat, and swirling around that little electric bundle of nerves the young man had already became familiar with.

In three years of intimate relationship, Noah had never done such thing to her -or even never heard about this. Was it a 21st century thing? How was it named? Whatever it was, he decided he would have to do it from now, because Elisabeth was panting, sharp, hard little breaths against his neck that went straight to his cock.

And when his older-self pushed two fingers inside of her, her head rolled back on his younger-self shoulder, limbs trembling.

—

It was just a dance for two this time -at the beginning.

Elisabeth took her time in riding her Noah, face damp and flushed. Her movements were wide, sweeping, and her hands balled into his shoulders for support as she hovered over him, a cascade of blonde hair isolating them from the rest of the world. They stuttered. He thrusted up, made her groan, and eased her downwards. Mouthes inches apart, the young man tried to kiss her but she decided to deprive him of it.

With a devilish smile, Elisabeth leaned back, bracing her hands on his knees, and rolled her hips. An amazon riding a submissive stalion. Eyes shut, she took stock of her pleasure when his large hands gripped her waist tight, possessively, hungrily, his hips snapping up to meet each shift of hers.

But other hands joined those already holding her.

No. No other hands. The same hands. And the same adoration when they touched her.

The amazon opened her eyes, glancing over her sweaty shoulder, to meet familiar icy ones.

“You're so beautiful,” her older lover murmured without sigining against her shoulder blade. One of his hands resting on her low back to guide her back-and-forth movements, the other one slid down her stomach, towards the area between her legs. His thumb brushed against her sensitive nub and Elisabeth gasped for air.

“So beautiful...” the younger man echoed in the face of such sight, as his lenght slipped easily into her. He needed her more. Closer. He sat up and thrusts deep to drag out another moan. Their foreheads pressed together and both their bodies rocked in perfect harmony, wrapped around each other like vines. Her tongue plunged into his mouth for a deep kiss.

Elisabeth's right hand curled into his dirty blonde hair, while her left one searched behind for the other man. A hot breath caressed the back of her neck and she was now trapped between them, enveloped only by Noah's warmth, Noah’s skin, Noah’s fervor... Suffocating exquisitely, Elisabeth broke the kiss to pant, as each of her two lovers lavished attention on a side of her neck.

Moans filled the small cabin.

—

The feel and scent of them -of him- overwhelmed her every sense.

The older Noah was on top of her, his hands framing her face like she was a treasure he had lost and only just found again. Each of his thrusts were slow, deliberate languid circles, his lenght within the heat of Elisabeth’s body. And as the pressure mounted, her legs lifted to clamp safely around him.

It was sweet, gentle, less passionate than with his younger self. The reason being this time, her Noah, was not part of the picture. On his own initiative, he stepped back.

Not out of pure altruism -he was doing it for himself after all. The young man had caught his older-self’s reactions when Elisabeth had come the two previous times. Eyes fixated on her. Dark pupils blown wide. Breathing deep and steady through his nose. Hard. The gnawing need to connect with her skin, to bury himself deep into her, to feel her constricting around him... The young man had lived with such hunger enough to recognize it on his own face.

But he perceived something else, more disconcerting and alarming. A void. A culpability. An agony Elisabeth was the only one able to appease (or able to cause).

So the young man withdrew to let the old one find peace in her arms for an instant, and sat on the mattress, his hand sometimes passing on Elisabeth’ sweaty forehead or temples to push back her sticking hair.

Her eyes were shut, and Elisabeth savoured the familiar safety and tenderness of the body above her. The pleasure growing inside of her started to burn and a litany of moans fell from her lips, until salty dampness run on them.

She opened her eyes to look up.

The older Noah was crying. Noah was crying.

Without a second thought, Elisabeth softly grabbed the man’s face, bringing her lips to the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and kissed his tears away. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathed her in, and his desperate embrace around her body became stronger -as well as each of his thrusts.

“Elisabeth...” his voice breathed, something deep-down and dried-blood dark in it, something that sticked and caught. 

Then, a split second of weakness.

"I miss you...” he muttered against her skin, his words unheard by the reason of their formulation. “You have no idea how much I miss you."

This brief moment of weakness suspended time, words floating in the cabin despite their weight. They eventually sank into young Noah, feeding a dormant fear he had imagined gone, and his face twisted in pure bewilderment -and despair.

He missed her.

No.

Air struggled to leave his lungs, and he could feel his brain short-circuited at the implications. Where is she? What happened? Did she leave him? Did he leave her? No! I could never-  This prospect had crossed his mind before, particularly when recalling his first confrontation with his older-self. The prospect that, maybe one day, Elisabeth would get tired of him, would reject him, to run free like the wild fox she was.

And yet, it wouldn’t change a thing -he would still look after her, even from afar -he would still be with her, even in darkness and solitude. Elisabeth remained his compass and nothing on earth could pull them apart.

So, if he missed her, if he was no more with her...

No!

By the time he’d regained the ability to use his senses, Elisabeth was reaching a hand out to him, so he could touch her -so he could anchor himself to her.

He bent and brought her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist, feeling the quick pulse under his mouth.

She watched her Noah through foggy eyes with a gentle smile, before closing them firmly, another wave of pleasure about to hit. Her nails digged into tattooed flesh.

—

The air in the small cabin carried the perfume of badly distilled alcohol and sex, the cold outside forgotten within these four walls.

Their naked bodies were crushed, satisfied, trying to find back their normal state, and Elisabeth’s one had been the first to give up. She quickly fell asleep between the two men. Her head rested on her Noah’s chest, ear pressed right over his heart, one of her arms wrapped around his waist... her subconscious clearly stating its preference.

On the other part of the bed, the older Noah laid on his side, tucking an arm under his head to observe them -her -him -himself -and it was evident. Evident that the scene in front of him was the only right thing. No matter the twisted consequences, timelines or connections, Elisabeth was the only right and good thing that ever happened to him.

His gaze left the soft curves of her bare hips, and shifted to met the one of his other-self, vehemently staring at him.

“You don't want to know,” he answered before the question.

"What happened?" the younger man asked anyway, the inquiry heavy for its unspoken extensions -to the plan? -to you?, and above all -to her?

The more experienced man rolled on his back. No answer could be given, both versions of him aware of the rules, so he shut his eyes, silence all around, until the white noise of rain pounded again against the roof.

"I failed her." The words came out reluctantly in a breath, like a sin confessed to be expiated. "I failed both of them."

Them?

The plural forced the younger Noah to make his own deduction: "Elisabeth and Adam?"

A glimmer of loathing passed the face of the ‘guest’, jaw clenched, eyes wide open on the ceiling like if it held all the secrets of the universe. Such reaction only increased the doubt in his younger version, and his grip froze firmer around Elisabeth’s middle. 

A content sigh escaped her and the sound drew the other man's attention. Elbows sinking into the fatigued mattress, he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, lips lighter than the flap of butterfly's wings. His mouth ghosted over the smooth expanse of her skin to inhale the scent of her. One last time.

In a catlike movement, he sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs off. He walked around the small place, picked up his pants and slid them back on -then his black shirt -his suspenders -his jacket -in less than 30 seconds he was all dressed and ready to go.

Heading to the door, he ran his fingers through his hair to put it in some semblance of order, and now at the doorstep, his icy blue eyes passed through the cabin until they fell on the couple. On Elisabeth. She had her back to him, golden strands rolling and flowing all down it as she slept on her Noah’s chest.

The younger man didn’t avert his gaze from their ‘guest’, like a hawk ready to swoop down on its prey if necessary -of course he had noticed the gun hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket. His older-self was on mission, but there was something else behind the weary eyes. Something he had already seen once.

“You’ve lost faith,” he breathed cautiously.

A wall crumbled inside the older man at these words -famliar and loathed words, remnants of that day still clunged to his mind like tendrils. There was no attempt to negate the accusation. Not a word. Not a move. Only his fingers’ grip at the door handle tightening. He blinked a few times and looked over to where his heart rested.

"Take care of her."

And the man disappeared like he'd never been there at all, shutting the door behind him. Maybe he hadn't.

Take care of her.

The young man’s mind was racing; trying to come up with different ways to avoid that presage, to avoid what he would become -even if he didn’t know the how or the when. Noah’s thoughts started to get more incoherent, and they took him into a well-known maze of guilt, bloody schemes and dark secrets. But with a promised bright future at its end -for Elisabeth, for him, for his family... There couldn’t be another way.

He clung to this hope for his own sanity, and his psyche decided to bury the vision of an older self that contradicted all the beliefs that had built him.

Without even thinking, Noah’s arms encircled Elisabeth’s waist, and he drew her closer. Heat seemed to radiate from the points where their bodies touched, and he leaned into it, burying his face in her hair. He carefully arranged the sheets around them so they'd cover their still sweaty bodies.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

And in the morning, the last hours would be just a fairytale, or a dream, or the result of too much alcohol combined with exhaustation and hormones, both convinced of their non-existence.

Because it had to.

—

ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/26290792

—

[twoidiotwriters1]

D��jà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) VIII -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: I need a group of friends that live near my house so we can all have crisis together -Danny

Words: 2,790

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Eight: 2nd. Déjà Vu.

'We are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known’

                           —Carson McCullers

"Anne, I’m sorry!” Cole called from the other side of the door, “If I had known that finding out about that asshole’s engagement was going to upset you like this, I would’ve kept my mouth shut…”

“You couldn’t take a guess?” Josie scoffed, leaning against the wall beside him. She continued in a whisper, "She's on her period, and you thought it'd be okay to just drop the bomb?"

Anne opened the door abruptly, almost causing her friend to fall forward into the bathroom. Her face was still red from anger, but there was no sign of tears treatening to come out.

“He’s a monster!” She yelled, making a bee line back to her bedroom. “First tries to make me believe I’m the love of his life and that he’s the man of my dreams, and then cheats– now he’s telling the same tale to one of my classmates he met thanks to me! What the actual fuck?!”

“Anne,” Ruby said tentatively. “I think that you need us to leave you alone...”

“What?” Her eyes widening. “No, no, no, no, please don’t leave, please don’t go, I need you here! I thought I was going to be better in the morning but I had this dream… and the nightmare from real life just continued, Roy and Lauren were inviting me to their wedding and I was so upset! I was plotting to ruin their party, I was… oh, it was so out of control– don't you dare say this is because I'm on my period, Josie!” She glared at the blonde in front of her, who just raised her hands in surrender.

“Then let’s do something,” Cole put one hand on her shoulder, “let’s go downtown, let’s visit Muriel! I bet she’s eager to see us, c’mon Anne, you love visiting her...”

“Maybe we could ask her about her husband?” Anne asked, suddenly hopeful. “Her love story could give me hope.”

“For what?”

“For believing love not is not yet another scam of society,” She sentenced.

“Oh my god,” Josie let out a tired sigh. “Fine, we’ll visit her, but please take a shower first, you stink of anger and drool.”

___________________

There she was again, the same girl. Was it the same girl? Gilbert couldn’t remember her face at all, but both definitely had the same red hair, the same soft-looking skin…

“Gilbert, you’re spilling coffe on the table!” Mary’s yell brought him back instantly.

With a start he lifted the kettle and stopped pouring the liquid onto his cup, it was filled to the brim. He let out a tired sigh and reached out for a napkin.

“Sorry,” He mumbled. “I was thinking…”

“A bit too much,” The woman raised a brow. “What is it this time, a scholarship you’re trying to get? An essay that might’ve been one page too long?”

“A dream,” He said quietly.

“A dream,” Mary shook her head skeptically. “You can't even rest while sleeping, then? I’m glad Winnie’s taking you out for the day, Lord knows you need a distraction...”

Winnie arrived at two o’clock, punctual as usual. She was holding a bouquet of flowers that were meant to be for Dellie, but the little girl was having a nap, so she left them on the kitchen counter.

“Sunflowers,” Gilbert raised his eyebrows. “You’re trying to call us haughty?”

“What?” Winnie tilted her head. “No, I just thought they were pretty– Hold on, that's their meaning? How the hell do you know that?”

“I…” Gilbert smiled faded. “I think I dreamt about it.”

Winnie laughed at this.

“You dreamt about it, so it must be real, right?” She shook her head. “Come on, Gilbert, it’s time to get you out of the house.”

___________________

“Anne, why are you stopping?”

The redhead was standing outside a flower shop, she was glancing at it inquisitively, as if pondering whether to take a quick look or keep walking.

“Anne?” Cole called her softly. “Are you okay?”

“What if I do exactly like in my dream?” She asked absentmindedly. “Is it too petty to buy a bouquet just to say 'fuck you'?”

“Very,” Cole raised a brow. “It’s classy though, I like your style.”

“We can talk about whether you should buy your ex venomous flowers once we’re at Muriel’s,” Josie pulled both of them forward. “Let’s go, she’s waiting for us!”

The woman was delighted to receive her former students, they sat in the small dining room and talked for hours until lunchtime. Anne was in a much lighter mood, and offered to prepare a meal, to which they responded with skeptical looks.

“Don’t worry,” Anne rolled her eyes. “I’ll stay far from the oven. Honestly, you burn something once and everyone acts like you’ve been ten years in jail for arson…”

Ruby, Cole and Josie remained at the table while Muriel and Anne entered the kitchen.

“How’s my best student coping with college?”

“You ask that every time I come to visit,” Anne grinned. “And it’s always the same answer. I’m fine, it has been kind to me, it's nothing I can’t handle.”

“Cole told me something happened,” Muriel leaned against the counter. “He said you wanted to ask me about my husband?”

“Oh,” Anne looked up from the bowl she was rinsing, a blush covering her cheeks. “Yeah, I did say that but you know me, I was… upset. You know I tend to be dramatic–”

“If it makes it easier for you, I’d love to tell you about my Jonah, not many people ask me about him, they think I’ll get upset,” Muriel smiled. “It’s been quite some time now and to be honest, talking about him feels different now, the further the memories are, the sweeter they taste.”

Anne wasn’t sure she understood what Muriel was saying, but it encouraged her enough to ask.

“Was it love at first sight? Did you know it’ll be him?”

“Oh no,” She chuckled. “We got along right away, yes, but we didn’t date until our last year in Uni, when all was a bit quieter. Just then we realized that it was always meant to be that way, us together.”

“Did you had partners before him?” Anne went redder. “I’m sorry, is not my business–”

Muriel laughed.

“Anne calm down, I said that you could ask, didn’t I? We’re friends, it’s fine,” She stayed quiet for a moment. “Hmm… well, I only had one official boyfriend before him when I was in highschool, I dated a few kids and never settled– Now, don’t look at me like that!” She laughed, “I was not a heartbreaker, every single sweetheart left with a smile, I think they knew it wasn’t meant to last. I have the feeling that all humans have the ability to know when a person is meant to be with them.”

“I never felt it,” Anne lowered her gaze, “I mean, Roy was the first man I ever dated, he talked about big plans and a future together… but it didn’t matter how much I liked him, how beautiful he was, I never felt the thrill.”

“Sometimes is not thrill what takes over you,” Muriel replied, “sometimes, it’s a subtle tickling on the tip of your fingers, the anticipation that comes a second before you walk into the rain, when you can feel the breeze on your face and… am I making any sense?”

“Yes,” Anne said breathlessly. “Like knowing what’s coming because it’s right in front of you, yet there's something stopping you from having it and remains there, unreachable until you are ready to walk up to it…”

“Exactly,” The woman smiled. “Love is different for everyone, Anne, and most times is not a fairytale, but we make it work when we are with the right person.”

“I suppose you’re right,” She walked up to the fridge. “I’m an adult, I shouldn’t be daydreaming with princes coming to my rescue- especially since I do not need to be saved from anything, my life is great. It’s silly, I'm a grown up now but still have such a childish spirit.”

“It’s okay to dream,” Muriel said reassuringly. “Real life can be magical if you look at the right things, if you pay enough attention.”

“The little things in life?” She looked over her shoulder as she kept handing ingredients to her former teacher.

“Yes, but also no,” The woman frowned, a little smile playing on her lips. “It’s funny, I hadn’t thought about it in a long time...”

“What thing?”

“A month before Jonah and I got together I was having the weirdest déjà vu’s… whenever I was with him it was like watching a scene I had already lived out in a dream, so strange…”

“I read once that when you dream about someone, in a romantic way, that means that person is also thinking about you!” Anne said with excitement. “Maybe he was dreaming about you too!”

“I never asked him,” Muriel shook her head, “what a shame, if he was indeed dreaming of me, that would’ve been such a romantical tale to tell you, I’m sorry I can’t confirm your lovely story.”

“You can’t deny it either,” Anne winked. “That’s enough for me.”

“All this time I thought I’d dreamt about him simply because I was thinking him too much during the day,” Muriel laughed. “It’s so much better to see it through your eyes! I might need to change my version of the story.”

“I had a dream this morning,” Anne giggled. “I was buying Roy a bunch of flowers to tell him to fuck off,” She laughed louder at Muriel’s expression. “Am I allowed to swear in front of you? It feels so weird… anyway, I was buying flowers and the poor man helping me…” She felt a giddy as soon as she remembered him, “he had to deal with my anger while still being completely helpful, if only real people were as patient as he was when I rambled on about my ex and how much of an asshole he was!”

“I hope you gave him a lot of imaginary money for helping you,” Muriel joked.

“Oh, he wouldn’t take it,” Anne rolled her eyes, a silly smile on her face. “That's my childish self, imagining a flourist man- a very handsome flourist man- just giving away his work to me for free, like some sort of selfless hero,” She chuckled. “Well, not so selfless. I remember him asking me to go back and have lunch with him. I mean, I offered the lunch part, but he was the one who asked me to go back…”

“Looks like the mistery man managed to charmed you. I thought the dream was about your ex but it sounds like you were having a jolly time with the flourist!”

“I was,” Anne shook her head. “I have no self-control, even in my dreams I'm incapable of keeping it in my pants.”

“Anne!” Muriel exclaimed over Anne’s cackles. “You’re right, it does feel strange listening to my former student talk like a sailor.”

“A sailor?” Anne asked, still laughing. “More like a pirate! Ahoy, you dirty animals! Hold the anchors! Let’s go south and kill those ravenous monsters while we steal their gold! Captain Shirley doesn’t have time for this buffoonery!”

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” Muriel replied, following the joke. “If you consider it addecuate, we shall start cooking!”

“Oh,” Anne looked down at the untouched ingredients. “Yeah, we should do that.”

___________________

“...And then I told her we could still be friends, but I wasn’t looking for anything serious,” Winnie shrugged, finishing her drink.

“Did she cry?”

“She understood, I told her since the start. I wasn’t leading her on or anything, but I guess she’d grown fond of me, she did cry a little, yeah.”

“Winifred Rose, you must be a nightmare back in Paris,” Gilbert snorted.

“Well I’m not lying, am I? I tell them exactly what I want since the start and they agree!”

“Probably just because they’re too distracted by your looks to actually listen to what you’re saying,” He teased.

“Well that’s on them,” Winnie raised her brow. “Now really, I know you said you’ve had zero fun, but c’mon, there’s gotta be someone…”

“You mean like a prospect?” Gilbert took a quick sip of his coke while Winnie nodded. “I told you before, I don’t have any.”

“Why?” She tilted her head. “I didn’t raise you to be like this, Blythe.” The man laughed.

Winnie was a year older than him, when he was a freshman in Highschool she had taken him under her wing, she was popular (and wealthy) so Moody and him had a decent time during their adolescent years. That if you didn’t take into account the time his father got sick and died, which had been the majority of three years.

“You want me to be honest?” He let out a sigh. “I guess that if I tried, I could make time to go out and meet new people, if I were that eager to go out and… Have something.”

“But?”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Of course I will, but that doesn’t mean I’ll think less of you!” Winnie saw his distress and her smile faded a little. “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not the type to sleep around with strangers. I thought that you would at least try to meet someone and see how it goes, though. Formal relationships are not that hard to find, you know?”

“I know,” Gilbert shook his head. “Every time I consider it, just when I’m this close to ask you or Moody to set me up with someone you think would be a good fit for me, something just stops me. It’s like I’m stuck in one place, waiting around for a girl to pull me out of where I’m drowning.”

“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly,” When Gilbert gave his agreement, she continued. “What's stopping you? Is it that you’re secretely gay, or is it that you actually met someone, and you don’t want to tell us who she is?”

“I’m not gay, Winnie,” Gilbert rubbed his forehead. “I’m being honest, I feel like I’m on pause. I don’t know, maybe I met my soulmate and I fucked up so now the universe is forcing me to turn around and find my way back, or I could be losing my mind,” He joked. “It certainly feels like I am, lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” He shrugged, signaling to the waiter so he could bring them the check. “I had this dream two times in a row, or more like I dreamt about this girl two times already…”

“So there is a girl!”

“No! Not really— She’s not… I think I’ve seen her before,” Gilbert frowned, struggling to remember something besides her striking red hair. “Maybe on tv? She might be a minor celebrity… I’m so sure I’ve seen her somewhere in real life, there’s no way I’m dreaming about her with such clarity…”

“Gilbert you’re not making any sense," Winnie raised a brow. “If I’m honest, it does sound like you’re losing your mind.”

Gilbert gave up on trying to explain, he didn’t know what he was trying to say anyway, so what was the point? He hung his head low and kept on rubbing the weariness out of his temples. He felt like crying but didn’t know why; the more he thought about this girl, the more the void got bigger and bigger, like having some kind of treasure handed to him only to watch it disappear just as quickly.

“How about,” Winnie started, “I’ll stop nagging about finding you a date until New Year’s Eve. It’s the Orchard’s anniversary, right?”

“Yeah, the fiftieth,” He said. “Why is it important?”

“I’d like you to have someone on your side by then, the anniversary's on January, I know, but your father would’ve wanted you to build a life outside school and work, if you let me find you a nice girl…”

Gilbert frowned, it wasn’t that easy, and it was low to bring up his father so casually when he was well aware that he hadn’t done the one thing his father had asked him before dying, which was to live a life full of love and adventures. He knew this, but he couldn’t stop now… could he?

Or was he stopping himself because he was, as Bash had kindly put it, crushing on a fantasy? Some sort of dream-mermaid lurking in the back of his mind, ready to eat him up and finish him when least expect it…

“I’ll think about it,” He mumbled awkwardly.

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @fuckthisshitimoutyall @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​​ @little-boats-on-a-lake @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[famouskittychild]

Dragon’s Whiskers

Summary: A little fluff piece about Fennec and Boba and their friendship. Fennec is going through a rough patch and Boba tries to help. Contains candy and some spice.

Warnings: some angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of injury; gentle prank; one instance of a non-romantic kiss.

Rating: PG

Word count: 2340

Ao3 link

 Author’s note: This is the very first fanfic I published here. Hope you like it!

When Fett had barged into her office in the middle of the night, and told her to either go to sleep or else tell him what to do to make her feel a little better, Fennec’s first thought was to drag his armoured butt up to the top of the communications tower and throw him off of it. Pretzel had padded in on soft paws behind Fett, following him through the door he had left open. She joined the other two grumpy felines on their pillows staring at the two humans for still being up instead of letting them sleep. All Fennec had wanted to do was to go back to burying herself in account books and ship logs and other details of the job and take her mind off everything else. 

“You are the last person I need help from” she had told him, ready for their next round of arguments, knowing it was usually him who lost his patience first. She must have been really tired because this time he had kept up with her.

“Great, you have a list of more usable people. Name some.” He had plopped down onto her reading chair, his lap promptly claimed by one of the ‘cats, than stared at her like she was on a list too; one for problems to be solved. “Nothing? Than how about, just going away from this all? Take a few days off. Visit a spa, or a forest, or a racecourse.”

She had sighed and hoped he'd still go away if she was just abrasive enough, but he had stood his ground. He had argued, he had asked; he had showed her planets to visit and speeder advertisements and had offered contacts for weapons upgrade specialists. It had seemed like he had tried to think of anything that might interest her and would cheer her up a little. Even the karking ‘cats had been on his side, taking turns at rubbing up to her legs and begging to be allowed onto her lap and be petted.

“Or I can just get you a blaster bolt on stun setting. That’d make sure you sleep a couple hours” he threw his hands up in the end, frustrated. Even that wouldn’t have helped. Knocked out cold wasn’t the same as a good night’s rest, and that was the thing Fennec needed the most. Her old problems with sleep were slowly creeping up on her in the past few months. Then last week happened, and she broke down in a way she hadn’t had in a long time. No wonder Fett had been somewhat worried about her. In the end, more embarrassed for making him worry over her and for keeping him from resting than actually believing it would help much, she had given up and gave him the name of a planet.

 All in all it turned out to be a great day. It was high time Fennec visited her home planet, and with all of the mess that went down a week prior and made her heart clench with grief at random times, it proved Fett right in being a welcome break from it all. Seeing the people who were so similar to her own family, hearing the familiar dialect and words particular to her homeworld - it made her remember where she came from. Being reminded of her roots helped to anchor herself again, something she needed in the storm that was her life lately. She hoped it will help her sleep better too.

She didn’t wanted to go as herself though. She didn’t wanted for anyone to recognize her, or know her as she was now, so they had put on hooded cloaks over their usual attires, Fett even leaving behind his helmet on the ship. They had arrived early morning and visited a few places: the Memorial of Ancestors, one of the schools she went to and another she would’ve loved to attend but never got to. Then they went over to the theatre district, watched a street performance, and even seen some dancers and musician at a park there. 

They finished the day off by walking around the Old Market. They started there with a late lunch and than spent a few hours wandering around at a leisurely pace, looking at all the different goods on offer and the people milling about. She stopped to buy a few things here and there: a comb, a scarf, some tea, and then some more tea. They debated about getting some treats for the furballs than decided they were spoilt enough already. They had made a wide circle around the rows of stalls with their rainbow of canopies and were on their way back towards the area set aside for spaceships, as the town lacked a proper spaceport. The last things she picked up were a stack of flat boxes at the handmade-candy stall named The Dragon’s Beard. She had put in her order earlier, knowing the crafters needed time to make the wide selection she wanted. And selection they had. Sweet candies of all kind, with syrups and berries and milks; savoury ones with cashews and nuts, spicy with peppers and roots and pickles. She ordered enough to bring back to let everyone have at least a taste of all the different types. Fett looked at the pile of boxes with uncertainty. 

“There should be enough sweets there to give a sugar rush to everyone back home” he commented as she tucked the colourful boxes under the arm that didn’t already had a satchel on it with the rest of her finds. “Including even the droids. And the four-legged beasts.”

“Mmm, don’t worry.” It took her a bit to balance all her stuff, then they started to walk down the row towards their ship. “And not all of them are sweet. Want a taste now? Because I do.” 

She let him take the topmost, red box from under her arm, one with non-sweets. He fumbled with the knot on the string that held the lid on, and she almost asked if they should stop walking when he managed to undo it. He offered them to her first, and she took a green one - her favourite. He got himself a red one that she knew had ginger in it. 

“It’s nice” he said, and she felt that doesn't really sums up the truth. Although, he didn’t have the nostalgia that she had for the candies, nor did he pick a particularly strong flavour. She just nodded, enjoying the numbing spiciness in her mouth. 

Fennec kept an eye on him, knowing he will pick out the spiciest one of the box sooner or later. It was the one she had started with, the green one; a colour he tended to gravitate towards, though not today as it seemed. They were on their third round of the colourful savoury treats and almost back to the ship. She knew he had found it when he abruptly stopped and grunted, then twisted away, trying to hide his face from her. She felt laughter building in her chest, something she haven’t felt in a long time. 

Soon he gave up and coughed, and probably would’ve cursed if he could. Her laughter was still far from reaching the surface but her smile was wider than it had been in a good while. 

“I see you found the Dragon’s Whisker.” He coughed again as an answer and covered his face, eyes watering, willing the pain to go away. Dragon’s Whisker pepper was strong even for someone who was used to very spicy food like her, and he was way less so. “It will pass soon, it’s not the lingering-in-your-throat type.” 

After a few moments he could open his eyes again, and he stared darts at her. It just made her smile even wider. Then he stepped closer to her, head tilted to the side, and she only had a fraction of a second to think “is he going to kiss me?!” before he did just that, pulling her close with a hand behind her head and pressing his lips firmly on hers. 

“Spicy, eh?” he asked as he withdrew. A giggle had bubbled up and burst out of her while they stepped apart. Her lips tingled slightly where they were touched by his, and for a few moments the tingling sharpened almost into pain before fading again. It was worth it. All of it. 

 Fennec left the boxes and her satchel on the lower deck before climbing through to the cockpit behind him. Fett took the co-pilot's chair that was usually hers, and looked at her like a loth-cat that had stepped into water, accusing and indignant at their misfortune at the same time. She was almost sorry for him, but it was just all too funny. 

She piloted the ship out of the atmosphere and he supplied the data for the hyperspace jump. As soon as the automation took over, he got up to go to the lower level. She had planned on staying where she was and giving him some room after her prank, but he turned back from the top of the ladder. 

“Do you have something for this?” He asked, and her face must have showed her momentary confusion because he elaborated. “For the pepper. I still feel like my mouth is burning.” 

Maybe his avoidance of spicy food that she observed wasn’t just a personal preference. With his injuries, he might have been less tolerant to pain caused by chemicals affecting surfaces of his body. Not to mention it might have brought up bad memories. Feeling a bit guilty, she nodded quickly and got out of her seat. 

 Once on the lower level, she rummaged around in the container for emergency rations. She always kept a box of powdered milk around especially for occasions like this. She dissolved a portion in a glass with less water than normal to make the milk thicker and made him start to sip it slowly before apologizing. He waved her concern away. 

“I’m fine, Fenn, really. I’m just not used to living on your volume of spiciness.” He smirked at her, and she knew him well enough to know they were all right. The smile came easier now, and to show she wasn’t sorry that much, she punched him lightly on the shoulder in a fist-bumpy way. It made him pretend to be hurt there too. 

“Thanks for the day off. I needed it” She meant it, even if just right then she suddenly couldn’t look at him. In the darkness of the ship and away from the lively crowds, back on their way to the everydays, the grief had came back for a moment and tried to sink it’s claws back into her. But it was easier to resist it and the heavy cloud passed as fast as it had come. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and saw from the corner of her eye as Fett nodded and sipped his milk. It made her laugh again.

He sighed dramatically. 

“Yes, yes, mighty Boba Fett drinking his milk like a good boy. That’s another notch on your victory belt, isn’t it Shand?” He pretended to be grumpy about it, and she shamelessly grinned. Than he pointed at the pile of unopened boxes. 

“Are you planning on feeding me those too, or will you just keep them all for yourself now that I proved I can’t handle them?” 

She shook her head. 

“No, I got those for the staff.” 

“You’re evil” he commented fondly. She shot him a look of mock offence. 

“Only the red boxes are spicy, the others are sweets.” 

Now it was his turn to look indignantly. “You’re telling this to me now?!” He got up and picked out one of the pastel boxes. She started to object. 

“Those are not for you!” 

He was already fumbling with the knot on the string tied around the box. He looked up at her, face as innocent as he could manage. 

“I’m just collecting the import taxes.” 

She gave up and laughed. “Two pieces only! Or there wont be enough for everyone.” 

“You calculated that, right?” 

She didn’t, but he could think that; she just wanted to be contrarian to him. He finished undoing the knot and took a moment to survey the contents. Than he looked at her, eyes drawn into slits, suddenly suspicious. “Are these really sweets, or are you pulling my leg again?” 

“They are sweet. Promise. Can you smell the powdered sugar? The others had starch on them.” 

“You know my nose is mostly useless.” She did know, but these had so much sugar on them, she could smell them from where she was sitting. He took out a reddish piece and sniffed it. “Yes, sugar. I should’ve sniffed the others too, the lack of it might’ve given them away.” 

He popped the sweet into his mouth and closed his eyes as it was dissolving on his tongue. She let him enjoy the flavour for a moment before answering. 

“It would have, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I have mentioned that not all of them were sweet, remember? I thought you would disregard that and you did. Because I also told you they were candy and you took my word on that. Then you picked the ones with ginger and almonds, and those were kind of sweet, so nothing prepared you for the Dragon’s Whiskers. The thing is,” she waited for him to turn his face towards her again before explaining with a smirk, “as long as they are bite sized and considered a snack, we use the word candy. Local quirk. Sweet ones, savoury ones, spicy ones, the mix of those - here, they are all called candy.” 

“You” he jabbed a finger towards her “are an evil woman.” 

He took his second candy and closed the lid, watching her smile and shrug at him. It’s been a good day to be evil like that.

[amazingmsme]

The Sweetest Smell is You

AN: Get ready for a lot of sweet pinning & fluff! I know the demand for Witcher fics is high so enjoy this very self indulgent fic, it’s a bit longer!

They had been walking for quite some time. Well more accurately, Jaskier had been walking for quite some time. Geralt was comfortably sat atop Roach, surveying the road ahead. Having completed a contract on the outskirts Toussaint, they were currently heading for Temeria. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Jaskier's neck. He reached back to wipe off the sweat and flick it onto the ground. It was late spring, closer to summer but not quite there yet.

They traveled along a narrow path through the forest, beaten down by hooves and feet. A creek ran along the trail, providing a symphony of frog chirps on its banks.

"Geralt do you think we can stop soon? It's hot and my feet are killing me," he complained. Jaskier didn't complain often, knowing if he did so he would only come across as a nag and when he really needed to voice his concerns they would be shrugged off. So he normally kept his more unpleasant opinions to himself. But they had been traveling since just after sunrise and it was well past noon by now.

"As soon as we find a safe place to stop, we can take a break," he promised. "But I'd rather keep moving." Jaskier rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes, my sore feet and I are well aware," he quipped. Then he grumbled more to himself, "I swear I'll walk a hole through this pair before the seasons change." Geralt held back a snort. 

He scented the air, searching for any signs of danger and found none. A faint floral scent drifted through the air, tipping him off to a possible clearing or meadow for Jaskier to rest for a while. He knew how much he loved flowers, and it would perhaps take his mind off of his aching body. He said nothing and continued their walk through the forest. The deeper they went, the stronger the smell became. Jaskier still couldn't quite pick up on it yet.

Geralt turned Roach and guided her closer to the small stream. He stepped off and grabbed their canteens and water jugs. "We should fill these up before our supply gets too low. Don't know when we'll come across another clean water source," he said. Jaskier abided and knelt down to refill the bottles. When he stood, he sniffed the air, nose crinkling adorably as he did so.

He smiled to himself. "Mmm smells good," he commented. Geralt couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the corners of his lips, thinking of the perfect reply.

"Thanks, I farted."

Jaskier's jaw dropped in disgusted, though he mostly did it to try and hide his amusement. Which he failed at. "You dihid not!" he laughed, pointing a finger at him. "Trust me, I would know if you did because I'd be on the ground gagging!" Geralt just rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly as Jaskier continued. "And then you'd blame it on Roach, only by now I've learned that hers are only half as bad," he argued. Said horse tossed her head at the insult and stomped her hoof, knowing he was badmouthing her. He reached out and patted her neck. "Sorry girl but it's true."

Geralt interrupted them, climbing back on Roach. He gave her a gentle kick, urging her to walk across the water. Jaskier let out a huff, knowing that meant he'd have to cross as well.

"If I fall I'm blaming you," he muttered. He hopped from rock to rock, doing his best to keep his feet dry. There was nothing worse than wet shoes. He started to place a careful step on a visibly slick rock when Geralt brought the palm of his hand to his mouth and blew. A very loud, flatulent sound reverberated through the air, startling Jaskier to where he slipped on the mossy rock.

There was a loud cry of "NO!" followed by a splash. Geralt found himself laughing fully now as Jaskier sat in the shallow creek, glaring daggers at him. He extended a hand which Jaskier swatted away.

"Asshole, you're the worst," and while there was definitely anger in his tone, Geralt still picked up a slight undertone of amusement.

"C'mon I think there's a meadow or something nearby. I can smell it," he said, trying to win back his good graces.

"Yes, I can too," Jaskier started. "It's... familiar," he wondered aloud. As they continued walking, Jaskier lit up. "I know what this is, it used to grow in the woods near our estate!"

"Hm?" Geralt hummed in lieu of a question.

"It's honeysuckle," Jaskier said matter of factly. "I used to eat it all the time when I was little," he said, a distant look in his eyes. "Gods, that smell really takes me back. It's so good."

Geralt snorted, "Maybe to you, but for me it's too strong. Almost overbearing." They turned a corner deeper into the woods and saw a lush thicket of the flowering vines stretching over the ground and far into the trees above. Hundreds of tiny white and gold flowers bloomed from the rich green leaves, filling the air with the best smell Jaskier could remember.  It might've had something to do with nostalgia, but he didn't care. The scent was thick and sweet, smelling of fresh dew and flora. It was very strong, almost citrusy in a way. A bit fruity, with a hint of honey. Each breath through his nose warmed Jaskier's nostrils with memories from his childhood. He sighed in content and let himself fall to the ground.

Not many people could fall gracefully, Geralt thought, but Jaskier had it down to an art. His eyes were closed, a slight smile on his face. He spread his arms to his side like wings as his legs just, sort of gave out. He crumbled to the ground, letting the flowers cushion his fall. Geralt licked his dry lips, tearing his gaze away. He sat down beside him, watching as he picked a handful of the small flowers. When Jaskier opened his eyes he saw Geralt staring at him with a fond smile before quickly looking away.

Geralt scanned the horizon, hand coming up to pinch his nose shut.

"Hey you should be enjoying this! I bet with your enhanced senses it smells amazing!" Jaskier said. Geralt shook his head.

"It's too strong, I won't be able to detect any danger," he said. Jaskier smirked, "I'm sure your other senses will do the job just fine. And besides, I doubt anything too terrible is in these woods. We would've probably known by now."

Jaskier set his bounty in his lap, picking up one of the trumpet shaped flowers. He pinched off the end of the stalk, pulling out the string from the middle. When he got close to pulling it all the way out, a tiny drop of nectar was collected on the string. He touched it to his tongue, relishing in the sweet taste. He held one out to Geralt.

"Try it."

"I'll pass. It's bad enough having to smell it," he said. Jaskier scoffed, as though offended.

"Excuse you, it smells lovely." He leaned back on his hands, kicking off his boots and tossed them aside before peeling off his wet socks and chucking them as well. Jaskier burrowed his feet into the soft ground. "Much better," he commented.

"Mm."

Jaskier glanced at him from the side before offering another flower. Geralt shoved his hand away, and Jaskier smacked him back.

"Not for you, you oaf!" Roach was now leaning over Geralt and gently took the offering from his open palm. Geralt watched her incredulously. Damnit now he kind of wanted one. He turned back to see Jaskier holding another flower his way. He eyed it, raising a skeptical brow. He still had to keep up appearances.

"It's childish."

Jaskier gasped, placing a hand over his chest. "Are you calling me childish then too?" he questioned. Geralt only tilted his head. That was answer enough. "It's called having fun Geralt, maybe you should try it sometime." The man only grunted. Jaskier leaned forward, batting his eyelashes pleadingly. Damnit.

"Okay fine," he snatched the small yellow bloom from his hands, doing the same as he had seen Jaskier do. It was sweet, light and sugary with only a hint of a floral aftertaste. Much more pleasant than the thick, over powering smell that plagued the air around him. The pungent aroma lingered everywhere, blocking everything else out.

"What do you think?" Jaskier asked. Geralt hummed.

"It's pleasant. The smell is still too strong though. I can't even smell you anymore, and you're right in front of me," he said casually. Jaskier had an odd look on his face that Geralt couldn't quite place. It soon morphed into a wide grin, and Geralt knew that look meant trouble. At least for him.

"So you can smell me?" he asked, scooting closer.

"Not anymore," Geralt deadpanned.

"Ah yes, so you've said. But you are capable of smelling me, and from the sounds of it you're familiar with my scent," he reasoned. There was an... almost dreamy look in Jaskier's eyes, Geralt was sure of it.

"Of course I have, you've been following me for years."

Jaskier propped his elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his palm. "What do I smell like," he asked in a teasing tone. It was almost flirtatious, but that's just Jaskier being Jaskier. Besides, what does he know about flirting anyway? He just made the bard fall in the river because he didn't know what else to do. Geralt looked away.

"I don't remember," he lied.

"That's bullshit if I've ever heard it," Jaskier called him out. "C'mon, just tell me? Unless I stink, then definitely lie to me. But I doubt that I would stink because I do pride myself on my hygiene," he rambled. "So do tell," he eagerly awaited his answer.

Geralt shrugged his shoulders, trying to hide a slight smirk. "Sorry. Honeysuckle's clouding my memory." Jaskier let out an annoyed huff, hands on his hips.

"You know, you're really getting on my nerves today."

"Now you know how I feel," Geralt taunted. Jaskier narrowed his eyes.

"I would advise you tread lightly," he warned.

"Yeah okay," Geralt said dismissively. Jaskier pointed at him.

"I'm serious! I don't know why you're being so damn stubborn," he said.

Because you're cute when you're exasperated, Geralt didn't say. Instead he just hummed. Jaskier huffed in annoyance, puffing out his cheeks slightly as he blew a lock of hair out of his face. Fuck that shouldn't have looked as hot as it did. Jaskier's attention was back on him, and to his shock his throat went dry.

He had a mischievous gleam in his eye with a smirk to match. He crawled closer to him as he spoke. "Tell me, or else you'll regret it." Geralt was not so easily swayed.

He tilted his head. "Oh really? How do you suppose that?" Jaskier gave an experimental poke to his side, making him jerk away from the touch.

"Y'know, I'm still a bit upset about my impromptu swim," he started, and pushed Geralt to the ground. Both hands rested on each side of his chest as he straddled his waist. He leaned in close to Geralt face, and he could feel a heat spread through his entire body as he felt the bard's weight rest on him. "So I won't feel too bad about what I'm about to do."

Geralt was going to ask what he meant by that, but Jaskier's deft fingers dug under his arms. His entire body went stiff, and his face scrunched with the effort to hold in his laughter. The occasional chuckle slipped out with a puff of air, but he eventually caved to the feeling. His arms slammed down, effectively trapping Jaskier's hands.

"Wow Geralt, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh this hard before! Or laugh in general! Who knew it was such a nice sound?" he said, drilling his thumbs into the hollows. Despite all the rumors and lies told about witchers, they had once been human. And many of their human traits are able to shine through at times. Which is why, upon hearing those words, a blush began to creep onto his face. Jaskier's mouth dropped open in amazement.

"Oh my god, are you actually blushing?" he asked. "This is too good! Where else are you ticklish?" He asked.

"Ihihi dohon't knohohohow!" he laughed. It wasn't technically a lie, it had been over a century since he had played with his brothers like this, and he couldn't quite remember all of his spots. Jaskier tsked, "Well that just wont do."

He shifted his attack and began playing his ribs. Geralt's laughter was loud and unabashed as he squirmed underneath Jaskier's body. His hands were skilled from years of musical talent, and he easily dug in between each rib. He thought he was about to be thrown to the side once Geralt's hands latched onto his wrists, but instead of shoving him off, they just... stayed there. Interesting.

He traveled down to his sides, quickly moving over his stomach. He placed quick, sporadic pokes all over, leaving him a jumpy, twitchy mess. His laughter was higher pitched, more frantic. But he still hadn't asked Jaskier to stop, and so he didn't.

"Which is worse? Stomach, or ribs?" he asked, one hand tickling each spot, causing his laughter to kick up a notch.

"Jahahaskier, noho," he pleaded. Jaskier smirked and tilted his head to the side.

"No what? You really have to be more specific Geralt," he teased, not stopping the onslaught.

"Nohot answering!" Geralt cried. Jaskier mock pouted.

"Aw why not? Is it too embarrassing to admit? Well you have my word I won't tell a soul," Jaskier promised. "It's our little secret."

"Stomach," Geralt admitted through his laughter. Jaskier grinned so wide he thought his face might split in two. He slipped his hands underneath his clothes to massage the flesh there. Geralt threw his head back and pounded against the ground with his fists in an effort to not toss Jaskier aside. He raked his blunt nails over the taught skin, resulting in a shiver that ran throughout Geralt's whole body. Jaskier took his time exploring all over the muscled torso before him. When he scratched inside his bellybutton, he let out a scream as he arched his back before falling back to the ground.

"Ohohoho, bad spot?" Jaskier asked with a wolffish grin. Geralt closed his eyes, not able to stand the look Jaskier was giving him. He definitely noticed this and a gentle warmth filled his heart.

"Yehehes!" he admitted. Jaskier was amused with his honesty.

"Hmmm good to know," he said. He had never seen Geralt look so... happy. So genuinely happy. He shook himself out of the slight daze he was in. His hands journeyed over to his hips and touching the tops of his thighs.

"Fuck! Jaskier nohot thehere!" Geralt most certainly did not plead. Said man only raised an eyebrow.

"And why not? Judging from your reaction I would say I've struck a goldmine," he said rather smugly. Geralt finally met his eyes, and Jaskier could tell how much fun he was having. He didn't know much about how he was raised as a witcher, but from what he'd picked up they didn't have much time to play around and be kids. He did know that Geralt and the other witchers enjoyed roughhousing, so this was probably up his alley.

Geralt's eyes shone bright with childlike joy and barely concealed mischief. He wiggled slightly, testing how well he was pinned. Though it didn't really matter all that much, he could stop this if he really wanted to.

Jaskier drummed his fingers ever so lightly on his hips. Geralt grunted, trying to hold back his laughter. "So why would I stop now?" he asked, fingers still at work. His laughs were breathy huffs of air at the softer touch that began to grow more powerful as his fingers sank deeper in the skin.

While he could still talk, he said, "Do your worst then." And then he winked. Jaskier's mouth fell open and he felt his tongue go dry. He quickly recovered, drilling his thumbs into his hips to distract himself.

"Oh you are asking for it mister!" he exclaimed. And he really was. His words were a dare in themselves, the wink an open invitation. So Jaskier took it. He squeezed from his hips down his thighs, deciding to stay there upon seeing his reaction. Geralt thrashed from side to side, his legs drumming the thick plants beneath them.

"Fuhuhuhuck! Shit shit shit!" He grappled for a hold on Jaskier's hands, but ultimately failed, and succumbed to his fate. His laughter was deep and frantic now. It was a nice sound that resonated in your chest when you heard it. Geralt looked truly beautiful like this. His hair fanned out among the foliage, the white was a stark contrast to the rich green. A few of the blooms had fallen out due to all of his squirming, and were now gently tangled in his hair. His eyes seemed more vibrant, at least when they weren't squinted shut. His mouth hung open in a wide smile, the biggest Jaskier had ever seen him wear. And there, carved into his cheeks were bright, shining dimples. Jaskier couldn't help but coo.

"Oh my gods, how have I never noticed that you have dimples?" he cheered. He continued his work with one hand and brought the other up to poke at his cheek. Geralt tried to turn his head away, and the pink color on his face turned a shade darker. "Probably because you never even smile," Jaskier said in answer to his own question.

"Thahat's nohot true!" Geralt defended. Jaskier brought his hand back to the task at hand.

"Of course not, it's called teasing Geralt. Maybe you should try it sometime," he mused. He continued squeezing down his legs, eliciting a stream of loud snorts mixed in with the rich laughter. Jaskier couldn't help but to stare at him with amused shock.

"You fucking snort when you laugh this hard? I need to do this more often then," he said mostly to himself.

"You cahahahan't!" Geralt tried to reason, knowing the bard was probably telling the truth. Jaskier raked his nails slowly over the muscles in his thighs, making him buck once more with a strangled cry of mirth.

"Actually I can. I don't see you trying too hard to stop me," he pointed out. Geralt immediately yelled for him to shut up.

"Alright I'll grant you mercy, but only if you promise to tell me what I smell like." Geralt nodded, willing to do just about anything to get him to stop. Jaskier shot him a half evil grin, "Okay just one more spot first."

Before Geralt could even question him he brought his hands up to gently rake his nails across his neck. He immediately scrunched his shoulders and let out a string of giggles. His fingers worked swiftly along the skin, effectively turning the man to mush. He slowly stopped squirming as much and just melted. Oh this was wonderful.

He tossed his head from side to side, trying to dislodge his attack. Then he moved to rake his blunt nails right behind his ears. Geralt let out a strangled screech, eyes widening at the sound as he moved to cover his mouth.

"Oh no you don't," Jaskier said as he pulled his hand away. God, he had never seen the witcher look so, so giddy before.

"Jahaskier," he said through a laugh. Then their eyes locked and everything froze. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled in. He kept leaning lower. Geralt seemed to be frozen beneath him. He kept leaning forward until he was mere inches away from Geralt's face; he flashed him a dazzling smile and a wink to go with it before he dove down to his neck. His lips connected with the tender skin as he blew out a large breath.

"NOHOHO!" Geralt yelled as he arched his back, not able to take it any longer. Jaskier rolled off of him, chuckling as he did so. He propped his head in his palm, laying on his side. He stared at him, and a whiff of smugness greeted Geralt's nostrils through the flowers.

Jaskier batted his eyes down at Geralt and asked, "So, what do I smell like?"

"Right now smug as hell." This only seemed to make him beam more.

"Well I have reason to be. I just took down a witcher with my bare hands," he bragged. Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged him with his knee.

"Alright don't be too cocky," he warned, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier settled deeper into the vines, "What else?"

Geralt hummed in thought, "Like sandalwood and lavender."

"I smell good," Jaskier nodded, seemingly proud of himself. This made Geralt smile even more.  He hummed once more.

There was a still beat, before Geralt pounced. He easily grabbed Jaskier's wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand. He looked dazed and flushed, a nervous smile already plastered across his face.

"Now Geralt, maybe we can drop this?" he asked.

He only chuckled, maybe intentionally adding a sadistic tone. "You wish." His hands rested atop his stomach as he slowly began drumming his fingers. Jaskier's legs kicked out behind his back.

"Plehehease, Ihi'm sorry!" He was already lost to giggles at the gentle touch. Geralt smirked and wiggled his fingers a little deeper into the flesh. Jaskier's laugh kicked up a notch, as did the squirming. Geralt slipped his hands underneath his shirt, getting at the bare skin. Jaskier snorted and tugged at his arms.

"Shihihit! Nonono!" he squealed once he started squeezing up and down his sides, all the way down to the hips. Then he walked his fingers up each rib, scratching at the space between each one.

"Geralt please!" he managed to gasp out between laughs. Geralt just said, "Almost done."

He slowly began circling his armpit with one finger. Jaskier was already giggling like a fool.

"You cahahan't do thihis to mehe," he said even though he knew that he could and absolutely would.

"Hm, watch me," he said. He formed a claw and started scratching at the hollow. Jaskier squealed and hid his face in his arm. Geralt snickered at the reaction. He let him regain his breath for a moment.

"Can't let the other side feel left out. Then you'd be off balance," he teased, stroking his hand down his other pit. Jaskier couldn't help but squirm away.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that wohohorks! Nohohoho!" Geralt interrupted him. He dug into the muscle, alighting his nerves. No matter which way Jaskier twisted, he couldn't lose those dreaded fingers. He knew his only choice was to succumb.

Geralt backed off and let him free. Jaskier didn't bother to pull his arms down. Not even when Geralt scratched at the center. That had earned him a beautiful yelp at the feeling.

They both leaned back into the thick flowers, allowing themselves to rest knowing they were protected by the several wards Geralt had cast. Jaskier snuggled a bit closer to his side. Geralt placed a hesitant arm over his shoulder. They spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the clouds before setting up their camp for the night, and cloud gazing turned to star gazing.

[flowercrown-bucky]

Anything can piss you off, you just have to try hard enough.

rrFandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists….. It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats..

Word Count: Lots

Chapter One | Chapter Two

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter Three]

 Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

Author’s Note: The boy with the thorn in his side is absolutely Loki’s anthem. Also Loki is a soft sweet baby and if you disagree you can absolutely fuck off,

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME TO BE ADDED

The boy with the thorn in his side

Behind the hatred there lies

A murderous desire for love

How can they look into my eyes

And still they don't believe me?

How can they hear me say those words

Still they don't believe me?

And if they don't believe me now

Will they ever believe me?

--

Loki was rather beginning to like Earth.

Specifically, this little corner. He’d been to Spain before, during the time of an inquisition, and was generally less than impressed. So, Castellon was a pleasant surprise. 

After the interesting experience with Roger Slater, you’d mutually agreed to get away from Monaco, sharpish. 

It hadn’t bothered Loki so much as he thought it was weird, but it bothered you more than you were letting on. You never said it in as many words, but your behaviour changed. 

The unusual encounter had initially been dismissed by you both, left without so much as another word. But after two days of your head snapping round every time you heard footsteps behind you and sitting bolt upright every time he shifted at night, he knew it was bothering you, so you decided another destination was for the best. You hung around for a few days to avoid suspicion, before leaving the hotel you had been in. A little under forty euros later, you were tucked into your seats on the overnight train to Montpellier. 

You’d settled a little more once you were in a different country, but it left Loki wondering what exactly the strange man had whispered in your ear that had you tip-toeing on your nerves in that way. He’d even considered entering your mind again, but the one time he’d decided to give it a crack had not gone so well. As soon as his hand came within five centimetres of your sleeping form, your own had reached out and grabbed his wrist, your eyes flying open. 

He watched you now as you sat across from him, stabbing a mushroom with your fork and swiping it through the sauce on your plate. A few strands of your hair fluttered in the gentle breeze, the evening sun warming your complexion. You looked softer in the warm light, less harsh somehow, as if someone had taken an eraser to your edges. 

Just the night before, you’d successfully seduced and robbed a man who happened to be in possession of diamonds of a karat higher than you could count and in greater quantities than you could fit into your pockets. You’d been so pleased with your conquest that the worry you’d carried on your face for days had slipped, spinning circle after victorious circle across the plaza’s stone labyrinth. 

Your good mood had continued through to the morning. In the two months or so he had known you, every single day you had vanished at roughly nine o’clock, for about an hour and a half. What you did in that time, he had no idea.

This morning, however, you had led him through the city centre, along bleached pedestrian streets and through winding alley ways to a tiny shop just off the street, with a small orange sign barely visible through the grubby glass and a mouthwateringly savoury smell wafting out the door and down the street. 

You’d greeted the owner with surprising geniality, quietly asking for a cortado - he would later discover this was pretty much the full extent of your Spanish - and something he didn’t quite catch. You accepted your coffee and a small paper bag, with a quiet muchisimas gracias. 

Blinking the bright morning light out of his eyes, he’d unfolded the brown bag, reaching inside and feeling around for the contents. It was soft and slightly springy to the touch, and drawing it out into the light revealed it to be a small cake, golden brown in colour and wrapped in a white casing. 

“Breakfast.” Was all you’d said as he’d eyed it curiously. He was pleasantly surprised to discover - after a first tentative bite - that it was sweet and buttery, the fluffy sponge melting in his mouth, leaving his mouth empty but for the remaining traces of sugar and lemon on the tip of his tongue. You’d laughed as he all but inhaled the remaining cake, the most genuinely happy laugh he’d heard from you since you’d met. 

He considered this as he watched you chew. 

--

Loki was staring at you. Really quite intently. He was looking at you as if you’d kicked his very favourite puppy as you swallowed your mouthful. You glanced down at his plate, noticing it was still mostly full, his cutlery disregarded atop his napkin. 

Your Spanish was not wonderful, but you were familiar enough with some of the more common dishes to have a vague idea of the menu’s contents, enough so to give you freedom of choice, safe in the knowledge of what you’d ordered. Loki, however, favoured the ‘point-and-hope’ technique. 

You looked more closely at the contents of his plate. Perhaps he didn’t like fish. 

You thought momentarily back to your trip to the market. Being in a town with a seaport, the seafood was excellent, and you’d wanted Loki to try fresh mussels. 

You almost laughed at the memory of his disgusted response. Perhaps it was the fish. 

Your own - fishless - dish seemed a little more Loki friendly, so you scooped up a forkful of beans and sauce, holding it out towards him. 

He looked at you with complete bewilderment. 

“Try a bit.” You waved the fork in your hand. “You don’t seem keen on yours.” 

“No, it’s fine.” He dismissed you. “The food is good.”

“Then what’s with the staring?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is there something on my face?” 

“No, no.” He replied. “Just. Thinking.” 

“About what?” You asked, returning your fork to your plate, instead reaching for your wine glass. 

“You.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Me. Life.” 

“Do go on.” You took a sip, savouring the taste as the bubbles slipped down your throat. 

“I was thinking about my mother.” He admitted. “How much she would like it here.” 

“What’s she like?” You asked. “Your mother.” 

“She’s the most wonderful woman in the universe.” He smiled wistfully. “The kindest, the wisest, the cleverest.” 

“So why did you leave?” You continued, intrigued by the sudden nostalgia in his eyes. He had told you virtually nothing about himself or his past, always dismissing it as a matter for another time. 

“Truthfully?” He bit his lip. “I left because I was bored.” 

You leaned back in your chair, mulling this new information over in your mind. 

“When will you go back?” It was a question that had been plaguing you for a week or so. Would he just leave in the night if the mood took him? He had every right to, you knew, but a part of you wished he wouldn’t. You had come to enjoy his presence, to almost cherish his company. For the first time in a long while, you were not alone, and it felt good. Loki irritated you beyond belief - although it hadn’t taken you long to realise that this was fully intentional - and he was just about as stubborn as you were. You bickered constantly, but he had warmed a little part of your heart and you knew you would miss your companion greatly if he decided to sever your paths. 

“Perhaps never.” The look on his face told you he knew exactly why you were asking. “Perhaps tomorrow. I shall decide as the mood takes me.” 

Satisfied that this was the closest to an answer you were ever going to pry from Loki, you lifted your fork to your mouth. As you chewed, you decided to switch up your line of questioning. 

“Tell me more about your mother.” You lifted your arm to rest the weight of your head on your knuckles. “Or your brother. Your childhood home. Your first pet. Anything.”  “Do I sense an ulterior motive?” His left eyebrow quirked bemusedly. 

“I have at least eighteen ulterior motives, at all times.” You could not help the smile that came across your face. “But I do struggle to envision you as a child. Or anything other than the unsufferable prick I know you to be, really. Throw me a bone, would you?” 

“So, do you spend a lot of time thinking about me?” He rocked forwards onto his elbows, his eyes glittering with mischief. 

“I should’ve killed you when we first met.” You drawled. 

Loki laughed. A rich, full bodied noise rumbling through his chest and echoing through the warm evening air, his head tipped back as if it simply could not support the weight of his mirth. 

“Alright.” His laughter subsided, reduced to a smile. “What do you wish to know?” 

-- 

Your sudden interest in Loki’s life had taken him back a little. You had never seemed one for nostalgia, so a sudden fondness for trivial reminiscing about whimsical exploits and innocent mishaps seemed out of character. He wondered what your play was. 

He glanced up at you, at your earnest expression. If you were attempting to extract information from him for personal gain, you were hiding it well. 

“Anything.” You replied. “Everything.”

He paused for a moment, thinking over what you’d said, sifting through his memories, carefully considering his next move. 

He told you stories of sitting in the apple orchard as a boy. He told you stories of playing in lakes, stories of tumbles with his brother, lunches with his mother. He told tales of climbing trees that seemed to stretch higher than the sky and of gazing at stars that seemed to stretch on beyond the edge of the universe. He told you of friends, of past loves, of heartbreaks. 

You hung on his every word as he spoke, your face enthralled. He felt as though he could talk forever just to see the wonder on your face as he told you all the stories a mischievous blue eyed boy could possibly seek to hold. 

“What about pets?” You asked, twirling a lock of your hair around one finger. “Did you ever have one, you know, as a kid?” 

A breath hitched in his throat. He blinked once, not entirely sure how to respond. 

As a teenager, he had indeed had a pet. Well, not a pet, exactly. A stray, a ward, of sorts. A horse. 

He’d been reading in his chambers one day when a servant informed him that the Allfather had summoned him. Assuming himself to be in trouble - as he often was - he had hurried to the throne room. Instead of being reprimanded, however, his father had led him into the palace grounds, saying he had something for him. 

In the stables, there had been a foal. 

No more than a few months old, it stood in the stall, dripping wet and braying pitifully. 

“It has become estranged from its mother.” Odin explained. “Alone, it is not long for this world. It needs love and care if it is to survive.” 

He looked up at his father with confused eyes. 

“With a steady hand, it will grow to be strong and nimble.” He continued. “With the right guidance, he will become a fine companion for a warrior. I believe that hand could be yours, my boy.” 

He looked from his father, to the calf, and back to his father again. Dumbfounded, he felt was the appropriate word. This timid, trembling little creature, a cavalry steed? It was almost laughable. 

“His name is Gustav, for he shall indeed become your staff.” His father followed his line of vision. “A loyal steed is both the most formidable weapon and strongest friend a king could hope to possess. Treat him with love and kindess and he will teach you more than you thought possible in return.” 

And he did. Initially, the foal did not respond well to him. He would not stand near him, would barely look at him, would not even eat whilst he was present. It seemed almost as if it would never grow to trust him, but he tired through, and eventually the horse grew to eat from his hand. It would allow him to brush its mane without kicking out at him, and when Gustav grew strong enough to carry Loki’s weight, he broke him himself - despite the stable master’s constant offers of assistance - leading him all the way to saddling, until finally, he was ready to ride. 

Every day, Loki turned him out, even when the ground was hard and the frost had fallen. Riding soon became his favourite thing, and the sight of the dark prince taking off into the night atop an equally dark stallion became commonplace. Victorious in battle and at peace within the elements, they were nothing short of unstoppable. 

Loki’s carefully built world came crashing down on him when Gustav was shot in the leg. Whilst the wound appeared superficial, it soon got infected and started to poison his blood. He grew weaker with each passing day, and nothing Loki could do would help him.

When Odin told him that Gustav was to be put down, it broke his heart, but never had he expected to be the one delivering the death blow. 

“You must learn to make sacrifices if you are to ever be a strong ruler.” He had told him. “You must cast aside matters of the heart in aid of the greater good.” 

He stroked Gustav’s mane gently, kneeling down in his stall beside where he lay in the dirt. His dark head bent, resting his head on the stallion’s dark nose in a final goodbye. He had practised the spell he had created to end Gustav’s life, intending it to be painless, but he could not have prepared himself for the loss he felt as the life drained from his eyes. 

“It is done.” Was all he’d said as he turned to face his father, unable to make sense of anything he was feeling. 

“You did well, my son.” Odin nodded at him, granting him permission to leave. Thor and Frigga stood a few feet away from the stall, but for once, he did not find their presence comforting. His brother held out a reassuring hand towards him, but he brushed it off as he strode past, head held high. 

He did not turn at any point as he walked back to his chambers, for fear that if he did he would return to Gustav’s lifeless body and weep to the heavens. 

Only once he had returned to his chambers and dismissed the servants that were waiting for his arrival did he allow himself to cry. 

Curled in a ball on the cold stone floor, his long legs drawn into his chest, knees tucked under his chin, Loki, Crown Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, wept. 

He wept for the loss of a truly innocent soul, wept for the loss of his truest friend. He wept for the truest, most unconditional love he had ever known, the likes of which he thought he might never know again. 

It was like this that Frigga found him, noiselessly sobbing on the floor, staring into the fireplace with a blank expression on his face.

He glanced up at her as she entered, his face stained with tears, green eyes bloodshot and red rimmed, his bottom lip trembling, a few stray locks of dark hair splaying across his face. 

“Mother.” He croaked, the dying embers of the fire illuminating his face. She hurried over to him, crouching next to his trembling form and throwing her arms around him. He sobbed harder at the feeling of her soft hair against his face, breathing in the sweet smell of her perfume. 

“Oh, my sweet boy.” She murmured, cradling him to her chest. “I am so sorry it had to end this way.” 

She stroked her hand over his hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as she rocked him back and forth. 

“Your heart is too pure for this cruel world, my sweet, precious boy.” She whispered to him. “ You feel such pain now, my darling, but this storm shall pass and the sun will shine on you once again.” 

Loki wept in his mother’s arms all through the night. When the sun rose, they both departed his chambers to tend to their duties. Eyebrows were raised and hushed rumours spread of the dark prince’s icy heart finally melting, but life went on. 

Loki never spoke of Gustav again, but every time he passed by his stall, his father’s words echoed in his mind. 

You must cast aside matters of the heart in aid of the greater good. 

He would never forget those words as long as he lived. 

“Loki?” Your voice snapped him back to the present. “You good? You spaced out for a minute there.” 

“I’m fine.” He replied. “Yes, I did have a pet once.” 

You looked at him curiously, but decided not to pursue it. 

“Anyway, I told you about me. It’s your turn.” He leaned back in his seat. “I have my own questions.” 

“Ask away.” If you were concerned about what he might ask, your face didn’t show it. 

“Where do you go every morning?” He began. It had been pressing on his mind for some time. 

You choked back a laugh. 

“Is that all?” You scoffed. “If you must know, I go to get coffee and go for a walk. Does that satisfy you?” 

His posture slumped a little in disappointment. He had been hoping for something a little more... Clandestine. 

“Why do you sleep with a gun under your pillow?” He pressed. “What are you so afraid of?” 

Your face hardened almost as soon as the words left his mouth, and he wished he could snatch them back out of the air and swallow them back up. The silence that hung over the table was almost unbearable, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he stared at you. Your expressions were a mask, but he knew you were carefully considering your next words. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

Loki remained silent. He had crossed a line, and you both knew it. 

--

The walk back to the hotel room was silent and awkward. Loki rubbed at the sleeve of his blue shirt awkwardly, glancing around him. The street was quiet, save for a few other pedestrians, and dark, save for a handful of intermittently placed streetlights. 

You were a few steps ahead of him, your arms crossed at the elbow. You hadn’t spoken since you’d left the restaurant, and he wasn’t really sure what to say. The easygoing nature you had adopted during the day was gone, and you were suspiciously glancing around you. What you were looking for, Loki could not hazard to guess. 

You stopped suddenly, turning to stare behind him, at something in the distance. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, when he noticed your bottom lip trembling slightly. 

Whatever you had just seen, had frightened you. 

He reached over to you, rubbing your shoulder with one hand, the other lifting your chin gently. You lifted your gaze to meet his as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb. 

“Are you alright, little mortal?” His voice was low as to not be overheard. “You look startled.” 

“Let’s just go back to the hotel.” You whispered. 

He nodded in response, slinging one arm over your shoulder. Picking up your pace as much as you could without appearing suspicious, you hurried back to the hotel. You were visibly unnerved, although you tried to hide it. 

Back in your room, you perched on the end of the bed, your shoes clutched in one hand. You rubbed at your nose absentmindedly with the back of your knuckle. 

He called your name but you didn’t seem to hear him. 

“Tell me.” He dropped to his knees in front of you. “What is going on?” 

You wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Whatever is happening,” He continued. “I need to know. What did you see?” 

You closed your eyes before inhaling deeply. 

“I think I’m being trailed.” You whispered, flicking your gaze down to meet his. “Someone, maybe a few people, I don’t know, have been following me. Have been for a few days now.”  “Trailed?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“The first time I noticed was in Zaragoza.” You ran a hand through your hair nervously. “There was a man stood behind us when we checked in, just stood there, watching. Then I kept seeing him in the lobby, just milling around, like he was waiting for something. Then I didn’t see him again, and I just assumed I was being paranoid.” 

Loki said nothing. 

“Then when we were in a restaurant one night, I noticed someone else a few tables away, just staring. He had sunglasses on, so I don’t know if it was the same man, but I’ve been seeing people everywhere. Just watching. Watching, and waiting.” 

“Watching for what?” He asked. “Waiting for what?” 

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. 

“But why?” He continued. “Why would someone be following you?” 

You lifted your hands to your face, hiding from his view. 

“Why would someone want to go to such lengths, travel such distance?” His voice dropped. “Who would want to trail you across a country?” 

Your silence spoke volumes. 

“Do you know who is following you?” He looked up at you. “If you know what is going on, you have to tell me.” 

You rose from the bed, turning your back to him. 

“I’m tired.” You said. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“If we are in danger, and there is something you are not telling me-” His voice raised, his temper flaring. 

“Goodnight, Loki.” You snapped, rolling under the cover. 

He sighed in frustration, climbing onto the bed himself. He lay there, in the dark, for some time, considering your words. Was someone tailing you? Had there been things he missed? Just how had he missed it? His mind spun with a million unanswered questions. 

The longer he considered it, sifting through his own memories of the previous three weeks, the deeper the realisation sunk. You had been right, you were being followed. 

To the unsuspecting mind, it was easy to miss. No average person would pick up on it, but the signs were there. 

People walking a few paces behind you for a kilometre or so before turning off and fading into the distance. The same faces appearing behind you in queues at the supermercado for days on end. Men in dark clothes sitting a little too close at lunch or bumping into you in the street. 

If you weren’t expecting it, it would be easy to miss. Unnoticeable, in fact. 

But that was what Loki found most troubling. You were expecting it. 

He was more certain than he’d ever been that you were hiding something. Something big. 

Being the God of Lies, hiding things and deceiving people was not new to him, nor did it entirely bother him. But whatever your secret was, he was certain it had something to do with the two of you being trailed. It was too much of a coincidence for him to overlook. 

Whoever it was scared you witless, and that frightened him more than anything. 

--

TAGLIST:  @chxrryycola @the-middle-oldest-child​ @possessedjoker@amour-delicate @marvelouslyme96 @the-emo-asgardian @lokilvrr