#yet another prompt I almost turned into a full prompt. Oh well. It is what it is. And as always the tags are only ever a suggestion

[fangswbenefits]

Questions

Summary: Your curiosity drives you to ask Astarion a very unexpected question, and he's more than happy to give you a proper reply.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Innocent/inexperienced Tav being a tease. Precum. Praise kink. Oral sex (mild). Edging. Body worship. PiV. Creampie.

Word count: 2.7k

“What does an erection feel like?”

Astarion nearly dropped the dagger in his hand.

He was effectively caught off guard in a way that made him blink.

Twice.

“What?”

“What does an erection feel like?” 

You were smiling so sweetly and innocently that to an outsider, it might seem you had just asked him to fetch you a cup of tea.

He was officially stunned into silence and not many could take pride in such an accomplishment.

But you.

You had a way with words that could have his head throb from annoyance as well as his cock throbbing from lust.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you took sure steps in his direction with a sweet smile dancing on your lips.

He glanced around the forest clearing, quite taken aback by your sudden bluntness in such matters.

“And what prompted such a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

With your smile spreading wider, you came to a full stop in front of him just as he sheathed the dagger at his hip once again.

“I was just wondering,” you said with a mere shrug. “I mean, I already know how it feels when… when we…”

“Fuck?”

Astarion would seldom be this forthcoming with you, but he truly enjoyed how you’d fluster so easily for him and from his choice of words.

You nodded.

Gods. 

He would never tire of how adorably oblivious you could be to your effect on him. 

“So you want to know how it feels for me, is that it?”

You nodded again, rooted in place as he began circling you like a predator studying its prey. Such an intrusive yet unbelievably arousing question had him almost salivating for the tease he was about to shower you with.

“As selfless as I am, darling,” he began with a tut, inching closer and closer to you. “I would like to know what I’d get in exchange for this delicate information.” 

He saw you swallow, still holding a sweet smile. “What would you want?”

Feigning pensiveness, he cleared a few specs of pollen that had gathered on your shoulders. “A kiss.”

“Where?”

Astarion would love to immediately sink you on your knees and have you plant the softest kisses along his cock.

But he would have to start slow with you, so he could revel in your inexperience.

He tapped his cheek twice with his finger, now close enough that he could feel your warmth. 

“So… a kiss for each piece of information?”

He grinned approvingly. “Lovely idea, darling.”

You closed the gap and moved to press your heated lips on his cheek.

It came as no surprise that he began to feel the faintest stir down below, letting him know just how weak he was to your sweet advances. But what truly made his cock harden even more was knowing you weren’t actively trying to seduce him.

You were too innocent to think a simple kiss to his cheek could turn him on.

So he’d let you know.

He’d show you.

“It feels very, very distracting,” he started, already mourning your warmth when you pulled away. “Especially when it’s due to sexual arousal.”

You blinked, waiting for him to go on, but what you didn’t know was that Astarion wasn’t one for charity.

Even when it came to you.

“Well? How about another kiss?”

You flinched. “Oh! Right… where?”

Oh, you were making this so easy for him. 

He would be fully hard in no time if he played his cards right with you.

So, he tapped his lips.

And you didn’t even hesitate to press a fleeting kiss on them.

But before you could move away, he gripped your wrist. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted, holding you in place. “A proper kiss.”

“That was a proper kiss.”

“Not if I can’t even taste you,” he said with a dramatic pout.

You nodded, promptly taking his lips in yours in a rather chaste kiss, and then Astarion went in for the kill.

He could always taste the inexperience and hesitancy whenever you gave himself to him like this. Masterfully, he parted your lips with his skilled tongue, and nearly groaned from how receptive you were to him.

The familiar lull of a throb around his cock was almost too distracting and he had to fight back the urge to immediately pull your body fully against his, so he could grind on you.

Surprisingly enough, and before he could tease your tongue with his fangs, you broke the kiss.

“Astarion, you’re not playing fair,” you said with that adorable pout that always made him want to have you on all fours for him.

But besides that, Astarion was not one to play fair, yet he’d make a single exception just for you and this specific moment.

He was too eager to entertain your unexpected curiosity.

He smiled innocently. “I do apologise for getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to with you…”

And he truly meant it.

You were an exercise on self-restraint and he wished he could lavish you in bliss whenever possible. But he also knew you needed your space and to also be the one to take initiative, so he’d often patiently wait for your move.

And what a move this was.

His trousers felt too tight already, and he had to adjust his growing erection with one hand, which evidently caught your eye.

“Are you hard already?”

Already?

As if it was a hard feat with you being such a tease…

“I will show you if you give me your hand,” he proposed deviously. “It would be easier for me… and you.”

You gave him an adorable wicked smile as you placed your hand in his. “Surely you must remember how it feels without having to have one.”

What a tease.

Your words sent a couple of jolts of pleasure straight to his swelling cock, intensifying the pulsing.

He guided your hand to his crotch, and couldn’t hold back the grunt that rumbled in his chest as you gave him a tentative squeeze.

You delectable little minx…

“How does it feel?” you said, smile never wavering.

“Extremely distracting… and pleasurable.”

Another squeeze.

“What else?”

He would come undone in his trousers if you kept pushing him like this. 

“I feel the urge to be inside you.”

Your eyes widened. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, feeling his cock twitch under your palm. “No. But I would very much like to press you up against the nearest tree and slide it inside you.”

Maybe he wasn’t as patient as he thought he was.

Maybe he didn’t really have time to play his cards right.

He was so incredibly turned he thought he could easily die again just from the tease and frustration.

Unexpectedly, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his other cheek.

“Can I… touch it? Will you tell me how my hand feels?”

Astarion nearly froze at your seemingly innocent suggestions.

Perhaps his love for debauchery was contagious and you were catching up and learning from him. Not that he was complaining, but his endurance might be at stake should you continue to further edge him with your sweetened words.

“You can do whatever you want,” he simply said, driven by the lust and agonising need for release.

And then you did something that nearly made his eyes bulge out.

You kneeled in front of him.

Gods above…

Eyes fixed on his as you struggled to undo the lacing at the front of his trousers.

The first beads of precum had already begun to drip from his tip.

He hurriedly helped you, fingers quickly loosening the fabric and creating an opening for you to take the next step.

And you did.

With another sweetly innocent smile, you pulled his trousers down just enough for his cock to bounce free, earning a sigh of relief from him.

Your fingers wrapped around him and his hips instinctively bucked from the sudden squeeze.

“How does it feel?”

Astarion wasn’t a man to be at a loss for words, but he couldn’t bring himself to string a couple together to answer you.

A single string of precum dangled from the tip and he now knew he needed to feel more of you or he might lose it.

“A kiss…” he said almost pleadingly, placing one hand in the back of your head.

You offered him a pout. “Where?”

He closed his eyes and let out a growl, rolling his hips as he fucked your hand.

“Gods…” he moaned aloud when your warm lips touched the swollen tip of his cock.

This had his eyelids snap open at once just so he could marvel at the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin.

But the near blinding pleasurable sensation came to a halt as you pulled back, darting your tongue along your lower lip.

“Tell me…”

Then you were on your feet again, but never letting go of his cock.

“I really want to ravish you…” he said impatiently, slowly taking a few steps into you, so you would walk back.

“Why?”

He wanted to fuck you.

No.

He needed to fuck you.

“Why what?” he growled, removing your hand from his throbbing cock, which earned a whine from you. “You keep touching me like that and teasing me with your words, and I will not last.”

In fact, he had lasted longer than he had expected, given the torture you were submitting him to.

“Was that your plan all along, my sweet?”

You shook your head, nearly tripping on a single twisting root that emerged from the ground.”No! I - I was simply… curious…”

Oh, he was going to adore making you sing for him. 

“Were you really?” 

Your back was soon pressed against a large oak tree and the most devious of smiles crept into his face.

He had you just where he wanted.

“You wanted to know how an erection feels, did you not?”

You bit your lip with a curt nod.

“I can tell you how it feels inside you,” he taunted, lips close to your ear and cock pressed against your shirt, staining it with precum. “Would you like that, darling?”

Your reply came in the form of a gasp that he quickly swallowed with a kiss, gripping your chin in between his fingers and applying enough pressure so that you’d part your lips for him.

You quickly caved in with a strained moan and his tongue slipped inside so he could taste your innocence.

Dexterity wasn’t a skill for everyone, but it was one he had harnessed and honed over centuries, and it came in handy in a vast array of situations.

Being able to undo your trousers with the fingers of a single hand was the one he was most proud of.

He felt you melt into him as he tugged at the tight fabric before yanking them down, and all of this without breaking the hungry and urgent kiss.

With a single finger he realised just how soaked you were for him, which was to be expected. Your body reacted to him in a way that further reinforced his devotion to you. It stroked his ego in the right places and tugged at the frayed ends of his sanity.

This time, he was the one pulling away, so he could drop on both knees as if readying himself for a prayer.

Your eyes were half-closed and heavy with the overwhelming weight of desire when you stared down at him.

With two fingers, he parted your folds and saw the delicious throbbing swell inviting him in.

And who was he to deny such invitation?

He leaned in and pressed a soft and lingering kiss on it, proud to earn the most adorable whimper from you as your hands flew to tangle in his curls.

“Astarion…”

He would die a thousand times over just for your praise and for your pleasure.

Nothing made him harder than your sweet cries as his name rolled out of your tongue.

He pressed two more kisses before raising to his full height again and chuckling in your ear. “You’re ready for me.”

You nodded eagerly.

Your despair was so adorable he could come just from how you were desperately grinding against him, the lower half of your shirt drenched in his precum.

With one hand, he pulled your leg up and apart just enough to grant him full access to you.

With the other, he angled himself at your entrance and was met with barely any resistance as he slowly pushed inside, grunting as you immediately began to tighten around him.

“Do try to relax, darling… allow me to at least bury myself fully inside.”

But he knew all too well it was merely wishful thinking.

He was getting undeniably closer to the point of no return.

You did try to comply with his request, lopping your arms around his next for added support as he pushed further inside. However, he was aware you couldn’t fully help but to instinctively clamp around his cock, squeezing his bulging veins and welcoming his precum.

His lips were on your ear once again. “You feel divine and I don’t think you need my words to know that.”

The first thrust dragged a soft mewl out of you and he held your leg in place, knowing all too well your knees would soon buck under you from the sensation of being fucked so deligently.

At this point, he was edging himself once he managed to set a steady pace, wet and sloppy sounds filling his ears.

You always took him so well.

He glanced down just so he could witness your wetness coating his cock each time he pulled back, only to ram it back inside with a desperate grunt.

“So… i-it feels really good, right?”

His eyes met yours and his rhythm faltered momentarily as he was surprised you were still trying hellsbent on getting your question answered.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he growled, his balls beginning to tighten as he reached the edge. “It feels ridiculously good.”

You immediately clenched.

Of course you did. 

You adored being praised and being shown you were taking him so well.

Not wanting to reach his peak himself as your contractions would aid him reaching his, he pressed the pad of his thumb against your pulsing swell and rubbed measured circles around it.

“Let go, darling,” he urged, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his focus. “I’ll catch you.”

He quickened his pace, entering the final stages of his insenset climb to the height of his bliss. His hips snapped more vigorously, the lewd sounds that he drew from you further testing his sanity.

You came first as intended, squeezing so hard around him he could no longer keep his eyes open and having to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

His name spilled from your lips like a broken prayer that any self-deserving God above would be a fool to ignore.

Someone this divine deserved to be heard throughout Faerûn and Astarion took immense pleasure knowing he was the source of your immeasurable pleasure.

As your contractions caused you to squeeze tightly around him, he felt himself let go and immediately felt his own bliss wash down over him, his lower abdomen rhythmically contracting and his balls rise up as the first ropes of cum began to shoot inside you.

He let out a guttural groan as he stilled as deep as he could, eager to feel his cum begin to slide out.

He would always come too hard and too much for you.

The amount of cum always surprised him, but he had grown to accept he was meant to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Surely enough and your contractions began to subside, he felt a few droplets drip out.

He pulled his head back so he could see just how flustered and out of breath you were because of him.

“Did that answer your question?”

Your laboured breaths were too endearing and he smiled proudly.

You swallowed hard. “You cheated…”

He gasped dramatically, still buried inside you. “I did no such thing. I simply found a better way to satisfy your mind, darling.”

Masterlist

[sofasoap]

When the rain stops

Pairing: Simon "Ghost"Riley x F!reader Rating: T-M rating. slightly open ending. no angst ( for once!)

Summary: You were stuck at the shop with your groceries, and your intimidating ( but nice ) masked neighbour waited the rain out with you.

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for organising the writing challenge! you are totally awesome :) Go here to check out other wonderful writer and artist's work for this challenge.

Prompt used : No.83 Stuck/Caught in the rain note: I have to thank @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world her roommate series simon will always be my inspo for any neighbour/roommate related ideas. *taking deep bow*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Master list

Holding one bag of grocery in one hand, and a bag of rice in another arm, sighing as the sky opened up, regretting not listening to yourself earlier on.

Should have brought my brolly, or should have driven here instead of walking. Thinking to yourself. So much for wanting to get some exercise and steps into my daily routine. 

Oh well, What else can you do but wait? 

“You gotta be kidding me.” 

Suddenly a large shadow with a deep rumbling voice loomed over you, cursing away.

Looking up, stands Simon, your large yet mysterious neighbour, with a small bag of grocery, seemingly in the same predicament. 

“You too?”

Awkward silence. He slowly turns his head down towards you. You can almost sense his discomfort from the tense body language and the way he is staring down at you. 

“There’s extra storage space on the ground floor. Rubbish collection day is every Monday, remember to take it out. Oh good morning Simon.” your landlord greeted a tall masked man, with a big camo bag who was about to head out the door. He nodded his head towards the two of you, before turning away abruptly.

That was your first meeting with Simon.

After that, he only appears every few weeks, always carrying his Camo bag. Sometimes in his uniform, sometimes already changed into Civilian uniform.  The two of you never spoke a word to each other, nor acknowledged each other. 

“Um. I am your neighbour two doors down?” You shifted uncomfortably, thinking he doesn’t remember you. 

“I know.” 

Another awkwards silence. 

“I don’t think the rain is going to stop for a while.”

“…….” 

Pointing to the cafe next door to the grocery store,“Would you, would you like to um, have a cup of coffee while we wait?” WE? You don’t know why you offered.

“Tea.” 

“Pardon?”

“I drink tea.”  He repeated.

“Oh.” Well, you assume that is a yes. “Let’s.. Let’s go?”

You look out the window, at the rain that is currently bucketing down heavily, showing no signs of stopping. The drumming sound drowning out the chatting voices of the cafe patrons. 

“Not to your taste?”

Simon’s voice snapped you out of the reverie. 

“Sorry?” you blinked, confused at his question. 

He pointed at your coffee. “Not to your taste? Should I get another one for you?”

He has insisted on getting the drinks.

“I am very particular with tea.” He insisted as he gently set the groceries down beside the table. He raised a hand to stop you before you speak. “A cup of coffee isn’t going to break my bank. What would you like?”

You shook your head and quickly took a sip. “Oh nono, I was zoning out…looking at the rain. Listening to the sound.It’s very… calming.” 

He looked out the window, humming. Back to the silence between the two of you.

You took another sip of your coffee, and stole a glance at the brooding man in front of you. 

This is probably the first time you have seen him without any face covering on. 

Not a face of a model, but a pleasing looking face. Long eye lashes, framing those deep brown eyes,  full of sorrow, weariness and… loneliness? 

“What if the rain doesn’t stop?” You break the silence again after a while. 

“Then we wait a bit longer.” 

“Until the cafe closes?” You chuckled.

“Then I’ll walk back to get the car and pick you and the grocery up.” 

You cocked your eyebrow. Although the two of you are neighbours, technically the two of you don't know each other before this. He could have just left you there to your own demise..

“But I don’t think I need to do that. Seems like the rain started to die down. Come on.” Simon drained the last of his tea, donning his mask back on and stood up and picked up his bag of grocery and your bag of rice.

“OH, I can..” 

Before you finish your sentence, he hauls it over his shoulder like a bag of feathers and stares at you. Somehow you know it’s pointless to argue with him so you just pick up your bag of groceries and follow him out of the cafe.

Two of you walked home in silence. 

You couldn’t resist taking a peek at his strong muscles… you mean him. With the first glance he sends people scrambling with his deathly stare. But from his actions today.. You know he’s a man of action.  From the little things he does. Insisting on paying for the coffee. Carrying the heavy bag of rice.

Oh he smells so nice. You also couldn’t help but take a deep breath in as he gently nudged you to the inner side of the walking path and shielded you from all the puddle splashes when the car drove past. 

Smell of fresh pine. Citrus. Freshly cut grass.

Just like after the rain. Your favourite smell since childhood. 

It gives you comfort. And joy. Memories of going for a walk and running around on the field with your family and falling over onto the grass, big patches of mud on your butt while your siblings laugh at you, and your mother shook her head.

“You got the front gate key?” He grumbled, adjusting the bag of rice on his shoulder.

“Ah? Oh. yes. Sorry..” you quickly dug through your bag for the keys and opened it up to let the two of you into the building. 

“Well, Ah, Thank you for your help today.” You said as he put the bags down in front of your door. “ Would you like to come in for a cup of tea… OH.” What the hell are you saying, the two of you just sat in the cafe for more than an hour drinking afternoon tea.

He chuckled. Oh, he sounds nice when he laughs.  “I think we have enough tea and coffee for the afternoon.” 

You nodded your head, embarrassed and somehow disappointed at the rejection. You opened the door and half kicked your groceries in.  

“But maybe next time.” you snapped your head around, he was already walking towards his own door. “If you need people to go grocery with you. I will be happy to if I am home.” 

You blinked your eyes, is..that his way of asking you to go on a .. date but not a date? Or is he just being friendly??

You stood there for a long time mouth gaping, long after he returned to his apartment. 

Simon look down at the little container of home baked biscuits left on his front door step the next morning, and smiled. 

“Just a little thank you for the impromptu afternoon tea and carrying my groceries yesterday. This is my number just in case you want to ask me to go again…”

tag:

@homicidal-slvt

@cumikering

@siilvan

@gamergirlbones

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@nrdmssgs

@writeforfandoms

@devcica

@liyanahelena

@okayyadriana

@clipperfly

@glitterypirateduck

[beegomess]

ILOVE YOU MATHEO FANFICS!!! And your Theo ones omg they're so cute and make me smile every time I see them!! Could you do something like this? If you want to of course!

It's like in Brookline nine nine where Jake and Amy have that bet where whoever gets the most arrests by the end of the year get to make the other do whatever they want.

• what if Matty boy or Theo (ether is good Matty would be my pick tho! Or if you like the prompt you could do one for each <3 ) and the reader had a bet about who could get the best marks on a test or something like that.

• And he wins and they make you go on "the worst date ever"

• like Jake made Amy in BNN. But like Jake that's when he realize his feelings for the reader.

Supper fluffy and cute!! Rivals/friends to lovers !

Love ya!!

M.R. || Real love baby

Summary: When a boy pulls a girl's hair, it usually means something more than he actually admits. Warnings: none. A/N: This came out faster than usual because I simply LOVE Jake and Amy. I really hope it met your expectations, I'm delighted with how I was able to construct this text.🫶🏼

Open orders!

The friendship between you and Mattheo has always been a roller coaster of jokes, provocations and, occasionally, a latent feeling of competitiveness. His blood boiled when he mocked every time a teacher caught his attention, and you reciprocated in the same coin, turning each slip of his into a reason for laughter. These exchanges never went unnoticed, and the common room often echoed with the barbs exchanged between the two of you.

What began as childish games, however, now seemed to gain a different meaning. In the sixth year, the provocations were no longer seen as mere mischief. Their friends, who used to watch from afar, began to observe them with insightful eyes, full of insinuations, as if they saw something you had not yet realized. What was once just an exchange of innocent barbs, now seemed to have a background of palpable tension, almost as if there was something else behind the debauched smiles and defiant looks.

You had grown up. And, over time, new interests have emerged. However, the fun of seeing the other angry for any insignificant reason still aroused an almost childish satisfaction in both. The adrenaline of a small triumph, no matter how small it was, was addictive. And, to your surprise, that night in the communal room would seal a new phase of this dynamic between you.

I was sitting with Theodore, discussing his grades from the previous year. Both were always the best in the class, and there was no more fun in competing with each other. Someone who really challenged his abilities was missing, someone from another house, maybe. But before they could continue the conversation, a familiar voice interrupted their thoughts.

- What are you talking about? - Mattheo appeared, sitting on the sofa in front, his curious expression, almost as if he was sniffing the opportunity to get into the conversation.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. I knew he wouldn't miss the chance to participate.

- We were regretting the lack of a competitor to match - said Theodore, with a convinced air that only served to fuel Mattheo's interest.

- Competitor? - Mattheo frowned, looking genuinely confused, before opening a malicious smile. - Oh, this nonsense of those who get the best grades, isn't it? Well, your problems are over, because the opponent you're looking for is right here.

His laugh was automatic and loud. Mattheo's idea as an academic threat seemed, to say the least, absurd. Theodore also let out a discreet laugh, and Mattheo looked at them with a mixture of challenge and frustration.

- Oh, please, Matty, don't make me laugh. - you said between laughs, barely able to catch your breath.

- I'm serious - he replied, his voice getting softer as his eyes met yours. - Come on, are you so afraid of losing to me?

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your composure. The game was getting interesting.

- Afraid of you? - you replied, raising your chin with confidence. - You won't even come close to reaching me, Riddle.

A glow of determination appeared in his eyes, and you knew that from that moment on he was committed. But before he could answer, Pansy, who was watching from afar with a mischievous smile, intruded.

- Bet on a date at the end of classes - she suggested, her voice full of malice. - Whoever loses will have to do what the other wants for one night.

You blinked, surprised by the audacity of the suggestion, but before you could protest, Theodore was already agreeing, a sideways smile on his face.

- Great idea - he murmured, clearly having fun with the situation.

Mattheo didn't waste time. He stretched out his hand with a provocative smile.

- Closed. Get ready for the worst date of your life.

Without hesitation, you shook his hand, sealing the agreement. He knew he was getting into a potentially embarrassing situation, but he also trusted that, as much as Mattheo could be merciless in his provocations, he would never do anything to really hurt or humiliate her. It was a bet, yes, but one that came with a layer of mutual trust.

From that day on, your destiny was sealed. The "meeting" was already a reality, all that remained was to define who would dictate the rules. A part of you longed for the challenge, while another, more cautious, began to wonder if you hadn't underestimated Mattheo.

[...]

The weeks that followed showed that you had, in fact, underestimated Mattheo.

In the first days after the bet, you treated the challenge carefree, almost mocking the idea that he could do well. Mattheo was always the type of student who killed classes, glued to the exams and, in the end, counted on the good will of the teachers to pass the year. However, something has changed.

In recent months, teachers' conversations about Mattheo have started to surprise you. They no longer talked about their lack of discipline, but about their potential. They said he was finally showing how smart he was - something that, in fact, you already knew, but that he never made a point of demonstrating.

Mattheo, who used to seem uninterested, now really studied. Their furtive glances and provocations during classes seemed to hide a new, almost disturbing determination. Every time he raised his hand to answer a question or hit a complicated question, you felt the pressure increase. He was, against all expectations, taking it seriously.

And, little by little, you realized that maybe you were facing an opponent much more prepared than you imagined.

The months passed like a gale, each day bringing with it new provocations and challenges. The agreement, which initially seemed like an innocent joke, had turned into a real war of nerves. Both maintained a serious posture in class, but behind this facade, the tension was visible with each exchange of glances. No opportunity was wasted for a sharp comment, and the friends around had already gotten used to the constant clash between you.

The whole year was a fierce dispute, with comparative grades right after each class, always followed by sarcastic laughter and subtle provocations. In the first weeks, you laughed at Mattheo's attempt to keep up, making a point of spreading rumors among the girls who met him in the library. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you whispered:

- They say that Mattheo Riddle is looking for a girlfriend. He's been spending more time in the library than anywhere else, he must be trying to impress someone.

The giggles echoed through the common room, and in a short time, the rumor ran loose through the corridors of Hogwarts. The result? The library, which used to be a place of concentration and silence, became a battlefield. Girls appeared unexpectedly around Mattheo, curious to know if there was any truth in the rumors. He, visibly irritated, cast looks of disapproval in his direction, knowing very well where that chaos had come from.

On the other hand, he didn't leave it cheap. Knowing that his weak point was concentration, Mattheo took revenge in a calculated way. Whenever you isolated yourself in a corner of the library to study in peace, he appeared, casually, and started a loud conversation, talking about the most random and uninteresting subjects, but enough to divert your attention. Not satisfied, he began to launch provocative comments whenever he passed by you, as if he were talking to himself:

- Oh, how I love to see the despair of those who are afraid of losing a bet.

Or even:

- I heard that some people can't study under pressure... what a shame.

Not to mention the colleagues who suddenly came to ask silly questions or break their silence, clearly instigated by Mattheo. You knew he was behind each of these little sabotages. The environment that was once his refuge for study had become unbearable. Wherever you went, it seemed that Mattheo was always there, ready to disrupt his plans.

In the weeks of tests, the tension intensified. The psychological war continued, and now, everyone used their tricks with precision. The librarian had already lost patience with both of you, and more than once you were reprimanded for "disturbing the study environment". But nothing seemed to be able to interrupt the dispute. You were tied, each test being decided by tenths, sometimes with him in front, sometimes with you.

And then, the last test of the year arrived. It was from Feitiços, one of the most challenging subjects and also the one that both knew could seal the fate of the bet. The room was tense that morning, with the students silent, nervous, frantically reviewing their notes. Mattheo sat in the row in front of his, and before the teacher entered, he turned around, throwing a malicious smile in his direction.

- Ready to lose? Should I reserve the night for your punishment? - he whispered, his tone soft, but loaded with provocation.

You raised an eyebrow, returning the smile with a sparkle in your eyes.

- I hope you've already chosen your worst outfit, Riddle. I don't want it to seem like a complete disaster on our "date".

He laughed softly, shaking his head before turning around. The game was about to end, and they both knew it. Every word exchanged, every defiant look, everything had led to that moment.

When the teacher finally came in and distributed the scrolls, the silence in the room became absolute. The sound of feathers sliding on the paper was the only thing that was heard. Each second seemed to last an eternity while you wrote your answers with determination, maximum concentration. There was no room for mistakes.

From time to time, you noticed Mattheo moving in front of you, but refused to look away for more than a second. I knew that any distraction now could be expensive. When the test finally came to an end, you let out a sigh of relief. But the tension was still in the air. All that was left was to wait for the result.

In the weeks that followed, the provocations did not stop. Mattheo was confident, always making insinuating comments about what he would do if he won the bet. On the other hand, you kept your posture firm, not showing a shred of nervousness.

- Don't worry, Mattheo. I'm sure you'll love to fulfill your part of the agreement. - you said, without ever letting out the anxiety that grew as the day of the delivery of the notes approached.

When the notes were posted on the board, Mattheo's heart accelerated, but he kept his expression confident. You approached soon after, and when you saw the minimal difference between the notes, your heart sank. Mattheo had won. He had taken the best grade, but by such a small margin that it even seemed like a whim of fate. You, who until then had maintained a calm posture, could not avoid an expression of disbelief.

Next to him, Mattheo let out a loud, triumphant laugh. He looked up, as if he had won a great battle.

- I said! - he exclaimed, drawing the attention of everyone around. - I said I was going to win!

He was not satisfied with the silent victory. No, Mattheo wanted everyone to know that he had won the bet. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to compose yourself while he turned on his heels, laughing as if he had just won Hogwarts' most desired trophy.

- Oh, I can't wait to see this! - Mattheo provoked, approaching you with a mischievous smile. - I hope you enjoyed losing, because now the night is all mine.

You just rolled your eyes, knowing that he wouldn't miss the chance to make the bet worth every penny. Mattheo wasn't content to just win; he needed to make it a show.

[...]

In the afternoon after Mattheo's victory, he and Theodore walked through the busy streets of the Diagonal Street, in search of the perfect piece for the "date" that Mattheo had planned. The sun was high, and the sound of the conversations of the wizards around filled the air. Mattheo, with a malicious smile on his face, was eager to turn the bet into an embarrassing and memorable situation for you. Theodore, next to him, watched him in silence, waiting for the right moment to pull the conversation that was clearly stuck in Mattheo's mind.

- I think this store will do. - said Mattheo, pointing to a window that displayed a collection of exaggeratedly colorful and extravagant clothes. It was the kind of store that didn't care about following trends, but about being the center of attention. Exactly what he was looking for.

When they entered, the environment was even more absurd than the showcase suggested. There were dresses with giant ruffles, shiny capes and hats that almost touched the ceiling. Mattheo took a quick turn, his eyes dancing between the most ridiculous pieces.

- She'll hate it. - he said, holding a pink dress with golden details and voluminous ruffles. - Perfect!

Theodore, with his arms crossed and an ironic smile, watched as Mattheo looked for more options. He knew his friend was having fun with that, but there was something else. There was always something more when it came to Mattheo and you.

- You know, you're trying too hard for this, don't you think? - Theodore commented, casually, while leaning against the store counter.

Mattheo let out a chuckle, without taking his eyes off his clothes.

- I'm trying hard to make sure she's embarrassed. That was the bet. She knew what she was getting into.

Theodore arched an eyebrow, still watching him carefully. He let Mattheo continue for a few more minutes, before deciding it was time to deepen the conversation.

- Right, right... - Theo said, in a carefree tone. - But... why are you so looking forward to it? I mean, it's just a bet. It seems that you are spending more time and money than you should.

Mattheo stopped for a moment, holding a ridiculous piece of clothing in his hands, but didn't answer immediately. His expression, for a brief moment, showed doubt. He looked at Theo, a little annoyed.

- I just want to make sure she learns not to underestimate a Riddle - he finally replied with a forced smile.

Theodore didn't buy the excuse. He took a few steps, approaching Mattheo, and lowered his voice, in a more serious tone.

- Or you really like her... - Theo shot, bluntly, while watching his friend's reaction.

Mattheo frowned immediately, dropping the dress in a macaw next to him.

- You're delirious, Nott. That has nothing to do with liking her. It's just... fun. A bet, remember?

But Theodore, undisturbed, just shrugged.

- Of course, of course. It's just a bet - he said, with sarcasm in his voice. - But let's think a little... You spent the whole year teasing her, Mattheo. Calling her attention in every possible way. He told girls to talk to her just to annoy her, he did everything to disrupt her studies, and now... he's personally choosing the most ridiculous outfit he can get for this date.

Mattheo turned around, crossing his arms and staring at Theo with a closed expression.

- And what's wrong with that? - he countered, defensively.

Theo took a few more steps, now closer to Mattheo.

- What's up with that? - he repeated, shaking his head with a smile. - You spent hours thinking about it, Mattheo. Hours. For someone who says it's just a bet, you're spending a lot of time on it. That's not just fun, Mattheo. Admitting that won't kill you.

Mattheo clenched his fists for a moment, clearly frustrated with the direction of the conversation. He wanted to deny it. He wanted to laugh at Theodore's face and say that it was absurd. But the words got stuck in the throat.

Theo, realizing his friend's discomfort, gave another accurate blow.

- How much time have you spent thinking about how to provoke her this year? And how many times have you done this because, deep down, you didn't want her to move away? - Theo let out a low laugh and shook his head. - All this, Mattheo, all these provocations... were just an excuse. An excuse to stay close to her, to ensure that she kept noticing you.

Mattheo snorted, trying to ignore the truth in Theodore's words. He took another piece of clothing, trying to divert the focus from the conversation.

- You don't know what you're talking about, Nott - he said, harshly, but his voice didn't have the same firmness as before.

Theo approached again, now with a softer smile.

- I know exactly what I'm talking about. And, deep down, you also know. - He took one last look at the ridiculous dress that Mattheo was holding and sighed, as if he was accepting something inevitable. - But it's okay. Keep pretending it's just a bet. I just hope you realize what's really going on before it's too late.

With that, Theodore walked away, leaving Mattheo alone with his thoughts and the clothes he had chosen. The silence that followed in the store seemed to weigh more than before. Mattheo stood there for a few seconds, staring at the dress in his hands, but his mind was elsewhere. Theo's words reverberated in his head, and for the first time, he wondered if the bet wasn't just an excuse to hide what he felt all the time.

[...]

The next morning, Mattheo seemed to have completely buried Theodore's words. His provocation was the same as always, but maybe with an extra touch of sarcasm. The most ridiculous costume he could find was carefully left at his door, wrapped in an almost solemn way. The box, with a dark green bow, seemed to mock you. Despite knowing exactly what was inside, you spent the day ignoring it, leaving the package untouched next to the door while trying to keep your head busy with anything other than the "date" that would happen later.

The provocations between you continued throughout the day, as if everything was normal. Mattheo seemed to have fun every time their eyes met, and you just rolled your eyes, determined to pretend that nothing would happen. But as the day progressed, reality began to weigh on you. There was no way to avoid it anymore.

When the sun finally set, you knew it was time to face the challenge. With a heavy sigh, he took the wrapping from the door, already feeling the weight of the humiliation that was to come. The contents of the box did not disappoint. The pink dress was a freak, with a huge golden bow that adorned her back, so exaggerated that it looked more like a gift wrapping than a piece of clothing. The voluminous skirt gave the impression that you were ready for an 80s debutante ball, and the boots... Oh, the boots were a monstrosity. Black and worn, with a low and clumsy heel that did not match at all with the rest of the set.

Resigned, you dressed up the best you could. Your hair, at least, was beautiful, and you decided that, if you were going to be ashamed, the least you could do was keep your dignity intact. She went downstairs to the communal room, where some of her friends were already waiting for her, evidently curious to see the disaster that Mattheo had planned.

- This is a nightmare - you grumbled, as you approached, without trying to disguise your frustration. - After that, I can forget about getting any boyfriend.

Pansy laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand, while Blaise and Theo exchanged complicit glances. Mattheo, who was standing next to the fireplace, couldn't contain a laugh.

- Oh, go, don't be dramatic. - Mattheo said, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. - I guarantee that, after today, you will be the most talked about person in Hogwarts.

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain dignity, although you knew you were already lost.

- Spoken for the wrong reasons, maybe - you replied, your voice loaded with sarcasm.

Mattheo just laughed more, taking a step forward.

- Come on, come down soon. We don't have all night. - He made a theatrical gesture with his hand, indicating that you should come closer.

When you finally came up completely, the muffled laughter began. His friends, no matter how loyal they were, couldn't help it. Pansy and Daphne covered their mouths to try to hide how much fun they were having, while Theo and Blaise watched with the looks of those who knew that it was an unmissable show. But the most surprising was Mattheo's reaction. He stopped for a moment, his lips curving in a smile, but his eyes... Well, his eyes seemed surprised.

Even with all that ridiculous outfit, you could still look beautiful, which clearly disarmed you for a brief second. The dress, as absurd as it was, highlighted the curve of her waist and the delicate features of her face. And, for a thousandth of a second, Mattheo forgot the real goal of the bet.

But he soon recovered, shaking his head and returning to the carefree and provocative attitude.

- Well, well... - he said, crossing his arms and tilting his head to observe you better. - I think a detail is missing.

Before you could ask what he meant, Mattheo took something from behind him and extended it towards him. A track, similar to those of Miss Universe, but with an inscription that made her stomach turn: "Mattheo Riddle is amazing".

You looked at him, incredulous.

- You can only be joking - you murmured, but Mattheo kept smiling, swinging the banner in the air as if it were a prize.

- Come on, you can't miss it. This is part of the agreement. - He insisted, his eyes shining with malice.

- That wasn't in the agreement - you replied, with narrow eyes, but you knew it would be useless to argue.

Mattheo just laughed and extended the band.

- Oh, but it was you who said I could choose whatever I wanted. And now I want everyone to know how amazing I am. - He winked, clearly having fun at the expense of his indignation.

With a sigh, you took the band and reluctantly put it on the dress. It was the height of ridicule, but when he looked at Mattheo, he realized that, as much as he was having fun, there was something more in his eyes. Something beyond provocation.

- Now, make a turn for everyone to see - he ordered, with a mischievous smile.

You rolled your eyes, but turned on your heels, feeling the huge bow hit your back, while the muffled laughter around echoed through the room. Mattheo applauded in an exaggerated way, as if you were at a fashion show.

- Perfect! - he said, laughing, and approached, putting an arm around his shoulders. - And now, let's enjoy this unforgettable night.

And so, you left for Três Vassouras, where Mattheo had scheduled everything. The songs, the dances, even the places where they would sit. His friends, of course, went together, ready to watch every second of this show, but, as much as Mattheo's plan was going to embarrass you, the truth was that while you walked next to him, something seemed different. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the fact that, as ridiculous as the situation was, you were about to have more fun than you ever imagined.

When you arrived at Três Vassouras, the environment was full of life, with laughter and conversations filling the air. But as soon as they passed through the door, the bar seemed to stop for a moment. All eyes turned to you, as if you had just witnessed a scene worthy of a comedy play. Your exaggerated pink dress, with your voluminous skirt and the golden bow on the back, made you look like a clumsy doll. And next to it, Mattheo, dressed in a gigantic tuxedo, with his sleeves and pants folded up in an almost comical way, didn't help improve the situation.

The laughter echoed around, and you felt your face burn with shame. People whispered, pointed and laughed shamelessly. You tried to hide the discomfort, but you felt everyone's gaze as if you were on a stage, exposed in a way you never imagined. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed impassive, with a malicious smile on his lips as he walked next to him to the table at the back of the bar, completely ignoring the reactions around him.

You cast an angry look at his disproportionate tuxedo, muttering something low.

- That was... a creative choice, at least - you commented, still trying to adapt to the situation.

He shrugged, fixing the exaggerated collar.

- It's all part of the show, princess.

As much as you were angry, you ended up laughing at the situation, especially when the buttery beers arrived. The sweet and creamy drink, as always, brought a little warmth and relief to the discomfort, and before you knew it, your friends were already around, laughing and pulling you to dance.

At first, he hesitated. She was too ridiculous to move, but the lightness of the jokes and the excitement of the night began to weigh more than the embarrassment. Soon, you were in the middle of the track, spinning and laughing with Pansy, Draco and the others. Each sip of buttery beer made the dress look less absurd, and the music helped to forget the looks around. Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore that I was dressed like a party cake. Only the fun and the shared laughter mattered.

While you danced, forgotten about the initial shame, Mattheo, from afar, watched with a different expression. He was leaning against the counter, a beer in his hand, but he barely touched it. Instead, his eyes were fixed on you, the way he moved carefree, laughing and spinning to the sound of the music. He didn't realize the exact moment when he stopped thinking all that was a joke.

Theodore's words, said the day before, echoed in his mind. At that moment, inside the store, he had vehemently denied any feeling. But now, seeing you so at ease, with a genuine smile on your face, the provocations and games seemed distant. All he could do was watch you, as if it was the first time he really noticed how much you enchanted him.

The time they spent provoking each other, the jokes, the competitions... all this was dissolving in Mattheo's mind as he looked at you that night. Theodore was right, he noticed. Maybe all that would have been an excuse, a way to disguise what he had been feeling all the time.

And now, with you dancing and laughing so freely, he couldn't pretend anymore. The smile he showed to others was always a mask, but at that moment, looking at you, he felt something real. A slight tightness in his chest that he couldn't ignore.

Without realizing it, Mattheo let out a deep sigh. It was no longer a matter of provoking or winning bets. There was something else there, something he hadn't been able to admit even to himself.

And, for the first time, he stopped fighting against that.

Damn, he really fell in love with you.

____________________________

masterlist xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

[mingtinys]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long that the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses it as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

(Sidenote, don’t worry about this ask until your hiatus/break is done— there’s no rush! Take care & take it easy!)

Hey friend!! I hope your break is going/has gone well! I wound up doodling something a little bit silly between my MC & Julian, and (on top of wanting to share it in general), it gave me a small idea that I thought might be a nice, lighthearted & simple prompt to kick the new year off with, if you’re up for it ^^

How do you think the M6 might react to the MC trying (and succeeding, perhaps with a little magic in some cases) to dip them?

Here are the doodles that brought on that idea in the first place :P

Anyhow, have fun & take care out there!

The Arcana Mini-HCs: Dipping the M6

~ @lurkingposting I love your doodles!!! ~

Julian: oh, we already know how much he loves it when you take the lead! what you're going to find out later is that he'll start almost falling over backwards in the future in hopes that you'll dip him again

Asra: something they won't speak of often but will obsess over for weeks. he loves it when you surprise him, he loves it when you initiate stuff, and he's a sucker for whimsical, romantic moments with you

Nadia: she's not going to lie, she would have liked a warning. that said, your boldness is yet another quality she finds attractive about you and she fully intends to make you pay/repay you for it later

Muriel: shocked stiff. frozen. red. stuttering. nobody's borne his full body weight since he was a tiny child and he was not ready to be reminded of what it was like. ... you can do it again, if you want to

Portia: giggles with delight when you do, and, as soon as she's upright again, dips you in turn. the rest of the dance is the two of you trying to out-dip each other (you get dizzy, but it's lots of fun)

Lucio: on the outside he's playing it off like he's enjoying your company as smoothly as you're enjoying his. on the inside he's bright red and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl because you dipped him!!!

[max-nico]

Sonic noticed Tails glaring at him a few minutes ago. He hasn't called it out or said anything, after about a year of being with the kid he's learned it's better to let Tails come to him first. Though he will say his patience has been wearing thin, it's been a week of nonstop staring and cutting eyes.

Sonic glances at Tails with an eyebrow raise making the fox flush in embarrassment. For another few minutes Tails sits with his namesakes on his lap and his head buried in their fluff. Sonic gives him privacy and looks the other way, hoping not to embarrass him any further, he'd really prefer not to prompt the kid more than he has to.

"I uhm- I have a question. If that's okay." Sonic shrugs, reaching down to dig in his bag, but he's not reallt looking for anything. "Oh, if you're looking for the cans of chili we put them in my bag, remember?"

Sonic plays it off as if that's what he was looking for, it's basically dinner time anyway so it's not a waste to start cooking.

"Right uhm- anyway, what makes you different?" Tails asks.

Sonic raises an eyebrow again, asking him to elaborate.

"I just... We're friends right-" Sonic nods without hesitation- "okay good. It's just that the people back at Westside didn't like me much, so... So why do you?"

Sonic gives another shrug. Is he supposed to have a reason for liking him? It just came naturally. He had a good heart, big ambitions, and an even bigger brain. Is there a reason he shouldn't like the fox?

"Is there a reason I shouldn't like you?" Sonic signs.

Tails' snout wrinkles a little, "Obviously."

The hedgehog gestures for Tails to keep talking.

"I'm weird, and I can't brush my fur by myself yet, I talk too much, I take half a portion of your food, I slow you down I-"

"It's our food, and you don't slow me down," Sonic huffs. "Those things don't matter. Why would they make me not like you?"

Tails frowns, gripping his Tails between his fingers, seeming unsure of the answer himself. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to gather his thoughts into a neat sentence, and Sonic continues food prep. An anticipatory silence sits between them.

It's not until Sonic's almost done with the first chilidog that Tails speaks again. His voice is a quiet murmur under cracking fire and a few distant flickies, but Sonic still catches his voice and it's little sniffles in the wind.

"I can't understand how someone so cool can like something that wasn't even tolerated by its parents..."

And isn't that heartbreaking? Sonic could join Tails crying after hearing that. What's he even supposed to say? Is there anything he can say?

Sonic places a hand on Tails' shoulder to get his attention, making the fox wipe his tears away.

"Your parents were dumb."

"But they were the smartest people in the village! My dad was the head research-"

Sonic places a hand over Tails' muzzle to quiet him.

"Being the smartest dumb person in a room full of dumb people isn't the win you think it is."

Tails looks away from Sonic with a sniffle and huff, wiping his eyes again.

If Sonic could take it all away he would. Unfortunately, he doesn't have memory altering magic, at least as far as he knows.

"How about I become your new family. I can be your brother or something." He says on a whim, looking for something to make the kid feel better. Maybe offering a replacement family would be better than claiming the old one.

And for just a moment Tails looks starstruck. His already teary eyes grow large and seem to well up even more before he tilts his face down, his eyes glistening in the ever brighter glow of the campfire.

Sonic swears he didn't do anything wrong, but those tears make him feel like the scum of the earth.

"You're just trying to make me feel better... You wouldn't actually want that. No one in their right mind would."

Sonic crouches down in front of Tails, waiting for him to turn and look him in the eyes. It feels like an eternity before the fox actually looks at him, and Sonic grasps desperately at the patience he's never had, but is determined to find.

Tails' face fur is wet and sticks up awkwardly, and the eye contact he gives is minimal at best but Sonic will take that over nothing.

Gently, Sonic bumps his fist to Tails chest, right above where his heart is. "We're brothers!" He says, in a voice that's just as foreign to the fox as it is to him. The re in the word we're doesn't quite come across, neither does the br in brothers making the word sound like buzzers, but Tails seems to understand him anyway.

Sonic can't tell if the fox is surprised by him standing his ground or by him talking, but it's probably a healthy mix of both. He repeats himself, pushing just a little harder on Tails chest to get the point across.

Tightly, Tails squeezes his eyes shut. Heaving out a sob, dropping his head down to stare at the log he's sitting on.

"Okay." The fox mumbles, "Let's be brothers."

Yooooo guess who finally wrote something !!! (Hint, it's me !!!) After receiving some of the most devastating news of my life, I decided to write some hurt comfort !!! Welcome back unbreakable bond fans, I'm glad I could keep us all fed this winter's night !!! I have so many unfinished drafts but take this, and thanks for reading !!!

This is NOT ship content. I am under the same name on AO3, and will post this there soon ! Come hit up my DMs or my askbox for now !! Toodles !!

[madforhoran]

Reunion (pt. 2)

Pt. 1 - here

So...it's done. Gonna be honest, I didn't follow the prompt completely (would bet too much for me 😅)

X X X

The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, the lower it was, the more nervous you got. Unsure if you could handle more teasing and tension. Seeing him again awakened all of the feelings and so much more. You wished to make up for the lost time, all that time you should’ve been there with him and for him. Too late to fix the past but maybe not too late to have hopes for the future alongside him. 

When the sky turned deep red, you buckled your cloak, patted down your skirt, and picked up a bundle of herbs you collected that could be of interest to him. Some were useful purely for their scent, others for their poisonous effects.

It was time to go.

Rivington Mill wasn’t far up ahead, definitely not for you when you used Misty Step. Spellcasting partially drained you as well, which was a desired state to get your adrenaline and nerves under control. You Misty Stepped right to the mill’s door, which were slightly ajar, and knocked, but there was no answer.

“Hello? Astarion, are you here?”  

You stepped inside. The circular room of the mill was dimly lit with candles, a singular log was burning in the fireplace. On the left side there were shelves packed up with big, mid-size, and small jars which you could safely guess was blood. On the opposite side was a simple bed with nice bedding and pillows. You noticed however that he never got rid of the ratty old blanket he carried throughout your journey together. 

“Look up, darling.” You heard suddenly and almost jumped out of your own skin. Gods! There he was, up on the wall…the wall? Wait, what, how? Then in a second he was gone, poofed away the same way his siblings did when they came to kidnap him from camp. What in the hells was going on?

“Now look behind you.” A whisper brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him and were met with eyes alight with childlike glee. He wore a simple but elegant blue blouse-shirt and form-fitting trousers which weren’t leaving much left to be desired. More often than not you could recall misdirecting a spell because you stared at his ass and legs instead of focusing on casting. His beauty yet again caused your breath to pause and your brain to malfunction, and you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him. You felt him melt into your touch without a single word. Shocking for someone who usually had something witty to say. His arms encircled your waist and you let out the breath you’d been holding, pulling away from the hug. You noticed a slight hint of disappointment crossing his features when you did so and his arms dropped from your body with hesitancy. 

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said with a tender smile adorning his lips. There was only one person in this room with surprises but it certainly wasn’t you. “Me?!” you asked, dumbfounded. “Gods above, Astarion, you can climb walls and…poof? How?”

“Oh yes, that is something I’ve discovered in the past couple of months, actually,” he waved his hand dismissively but you could hear in his voice it was a big deal. Of course it was! 

“Vampire spawn have powers, we just didn’t know about them because Cazador was suppressing them. For two hundred years…making me believe I was weak,” he added with a contemptuous sneer. Your palms balled into fists at the name. Fucking bastard. It meant that finally Astarion could enjoy some benefits of vampirism, not only drawbacks, pain, and loss. There was another piece you’d lost, though - witnessing the exact moment he’d found out what he could do. Stop it, you told yourself, no point in dwelling on what ifs. 

“You were never weak,” you corrected him. “Never.” 

He let out a bashful cough and pointed at the herb bundle you were still clutching in your palm. “Are those for me?”

“Yes, uh, I thought you could use some for your perfumes and some for poisons to kill bad guys with,” you said.

He eyed the bundle with utmost interest and took it from your hand. “Really? How…sweet. Thank you.”

Ever so thankful was one of the things you loved about him. You hadn’t known anyone else thanking you so many times for absolutely basic things. Heat rushed to your cheeks as he reached out for the clasp of your cloak. “May I?”

You nodded silently and the cloak fell to the floor. Suddenly you didn’t know what to do with your arms or where to look. The “perks” of being sober around someone whom you desired so badly it impeded any rational thought. Felt as if floodgates of all the repressed emotions opened, partially two days ago but fully right now. You’d kept it under control during the whole end of the world and mindflayer domination threat and then had been too busy with rebuilding Sorcerous Sundries alongside Gale and Rolan. With all of that dealt with, only one thing was missing from your life. The man standing right in front of you.

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested, breaking the awkward silence. “I’ve bought some food for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Just trying to be a good host,” he shrugged.

“I don’t want to eat alone,” you said. “Dine with me.”

He chuckled. “Have you forgotten, dear? I can’t eat normal food.”

“I meant blood.”

He nodded and stepped away from you to take one of his blood jars. “No.” You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “My blood.”    

“Are you sure?” He was puzzled. You managed to surprise him yet again. “I’m serious, Astarion,” you answered firmly. He smiled and poofed out of the room. “Show-off!” you yelled after him, smiling as well. 

He served you pieces of meat, veg, and bits of fruit. Most likely stolen rather than bought but you weren’t about to question him. You laid down your forearm, inviting him to drink. Giving you one last look of making sure you’re alright with it, he sank his teeth into your wrist. You bit on the meat to distract yourself from the initial pain. Nonetheless, he was trying to be gentle. You remembered him draining villains during the battles, he paid no mind. It was vicious, primal, and it made him stronger. The first taste of freedom from Cazador.

You finished half of the plate when he stopped drinking and began massaging the puncture wounds with his thumb. The pupils of his crimson eyes were dilated, the drunken smile and your blood dripping down his chin were oh-so-inviting for you to do what you’d dreamed of doing. Kissing him. Simple as that. 

“Invigorating, my dear, thank y–” he didn’t get to finish as you leant from your chair and almost did it, stopping right in front of his face, so close you could see the tiny crows feet and every other beautiful crinkle. “I–oh gods,” you mumbled, sitting back down on the chair. “Yes, darling, what is it?” he responded with his typical teasing tone. Bloodloss and lust, that’s what it was. And excruciating love.  

“Tell me.”

You sighed. “I just want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” he asked provocatively. “That I’m enjoying this evening immensely? Because I am.” 

That you feel the same way I do. 

Despite playing this cat and mouse game, you knew. He wasn’t hiding it. There was no point wasting more time looking at him when you could be doing other things. Screw it. You stood up from the chair, braced yourself against the table, and ungracefully landed in his lap. You couldn’t help not noticing his crotch was stiff against your hip.

“Say where you’d like me to kiss you.”

His arms encircled your waist again as yours found their way around his neck, playing with his soft curls. Utter perfection. You had to remind yourself to continue breathing steadily. 

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” he smirked. No, he did not use on you what you’d told him all those months ago when he’d asked you to join him in his tent during the tiefling party. The conversation was so fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday.

“Oh, you need a little bit of enticing,” you countered, moving your right hand to gently cup his cheek. “Take your pick.” You began tracing your forefinger and middle finger over his cheekbone, up to his forehead, then sliding them down the slope of his perfect nose. When you reached the cupid’s bow of his lips, he parted them slightly as if gasping for breath. 

“How about I kiss you instead?”

Gods above, please. 

He moved his head closer so you could smell the blood he drank from you and then he finally lightly pressed his lips to yours. Your entire body came alive and it was just the beginning. He teased you yet again by pulling away a little when you tried to deepen the kiss so you pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan that made your quiver. His cock was straining against his trousers, begging for release. 

You pried his lips open with your tongue, grazing it over his fangs, nudging his tongue to meet yours. It felt so familiar yet so different this time, real. Without breaking the connection he pushed your hips upwards towards the table and you sat down with your legs apart, your centre burning like fires of Avernus. He positioned himself with his hardened cock resting against your lower belly, felt it twitching as you closed the miniscule distance between you, hugging his slim hips with your thighs and hooking your legs around his. 

He broke the kiss gently, allowing you to take a breath and steady your heartbeat. “Careful, darling, don’t faint on me…as much of a compliment as it would be.” 

Sly little shit. He was right though, he could feel everything with his heightened vampiric senses. It allowed you to regain some semblance of sanity, which was a miracle all by itself. 

There was one important thing you had to come back to despite telling yourself not to dwell on the past.   

…it brings up the feelings of disgust and loathing. 

“What’s wrong, are you unwell?” he asked with a hint of worry when you didn’t react immediately. 

You shook your head. “No, it’s just…I thought of the things you said at Moonrise, and–”

“Hush, love,” he pressed a finger to your lip. His eyes blazed with fire matching your own. “Let me tell you something. A confession, if you will…I asked Gale to send me a pigeon once a week to tell me how you’re faring. If you’re still…you know. His answers were always, I quote: ‘She’s talking about you constantly, with a tedium that I’m sure many would say rivals my own. Why can’t you go see her and spare us all this torment? Insufferable, both of you’.” He mimicked Gale’s way of speaking and finished with a dramatic eye roll. You had to suppress a snort. Unbelievable that this man enlisted poor Gale into sending him information, even more unbelievable that Gale agreed and kept it a secret.

“Trust me, I wanted to but I wasn’t sure I was ready. I’ve spent all this time thinking about us, about my difficulties. Figuring it out, fantasizing even. It was very, uh, helpful. And then that poor excuse for a skeleton gave me the perfect opportunity I couldn’t miss. You showed up…and here we are. I am ready.” He squeezed your hips, pulling you near again, amusement and challenge crossing his godlike features. “Now shall we go back to you adorably trying to seduce me?”

You poked him in the chest playfully. “I’ve already succeeded at this daunting task, don’t you think?”

He guffawed. “How so, darling? I still have all my clothes on.”

Insufferable indeed. In spite of his assurances, you wanted to be mindful. He deserved to be loved with utmost care and attention. To feel safe enough to stop if need be.

“Tell me about those fantasies,” you prompted him, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’d rather show you.”

You gasped as he lifted you from the table and guided you onto his bed. He laid you down, gliding on top like a cat, not breaking eye contact. Your skirt rolled up as he did so, exposing the already soaked underwear and he pressed his crotch right against it. “This is already so much better than my imagination.”

A thrill ran through your entire body from head to toe. Not many things tasted sweeter than his praise. 

“May I?” you asked, tugging on one of the buttons of his shirt. “Yes.”

The lower you went, the shakier your hands were but it was worth the reward. Every single lean muscle on him was sculpted to perfection. A soft, barely audible sigh escaped his lips as you caressed his pectorals and slid the shirt away to fully reveal his glorious upper body. 

“My turn now,” he smirked. Safe to say your blouse didn’t survive unscathed as he ripped the buttons off with his teeth. Fuck. “I’ll fix it later,” he mumbled, ripping your bra as well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The skirt followed along with the drenched panties. He scanned you, eyes blazing with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, robbing you off reason. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

More words of praise making your mind spin and your body tingle.

“Show me what’s next,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice anymore. 

“I’ll let you guess, my dear.”

Accepting the challenge, you grabbed his shoulders gently, pushing him off of you onto his back. You searched his features for unspoken approval or signs of discomfort as you towered over him, slowly drawing your hands towards the waistband of his trousers. “Getting warmer,” he murmured enthusiastically.

“How very predictable,” you retorted, sliding down to grab the waistband with your mouth, not letting your eyes off of him. He bucked his hips up as you tugged, exposing his raging erection clothed in elegantly embroidered underwear, and lean thighs. There was nothing on this man’s body that wasn’t absolutely infuriatingly exquisite. He bucked his hips again and moaned as you slid down the underwear too, baring his cock adorned by a string of precum glistening at the tip. Smut peddlers at Sharess’s Caress would be struggling to describe the beauty in front of you. There were simply not enough words and none of them were accurate either.  

“Breathtaking.”

“I know.”

“Cocky ass.”

He grinned and took your arm, dragging you on top of him. “But that’s what you like about me, darling, or not?” 

“Hm, I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Oh, and what might help with this terrible ordeal?” he asked with a smug look. To Hells with him. Instead of answering, you brushed the palm of your hand against his cock in a taunt, the slickness of precum wetting it. As you attempted to lift it, he placed his hand on yours and squeezed. He found your mouth as you began stroking his length, his sweet moans muffled with the kisses. Your willpower was stretching thinner and thinner, you wanted him inside you, filling you up, but you’d do only what he wanted to do. His pleasure, real pleasure was more important than your own. Being able to touch him, feel him against your skin, was already enough of a gift after so much time apart.

“Tighter and faster, darling,” he urged you and so you did as he asked, tightening your grip. His fangs almost cut your lip as he moaned loudly, deliciously. He jerked his hips up each time your hand went down in perfect sync, searching for release. After a few more strokes you felt him spasming, cum spraying over his abdomen. “Have you decided now?” he quipped, brushing stray hairs from your face. “Nuh huh.” You smiled and collected some of the cum on your fingers, licking them clean. 

“Gods below,” he hissed.

“Care to show me if there’s more on your list of fantasies?”

“Indeed,” he answered simply, his eyes burying into you, scorching you whole. “It’s you.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to react, arresting your mouth with soft pecks, sending tingles from head down to your toes as he pinned you down to the mattress. Every sense was on overdrive, your magic crackling within you. As the kisses grew more intense, the more ferociously the magic whirled within like a thunderstorm and your heartbeat began racing more frantically, his body responded too, his cock getting stiff anew.

He hooked his right leg under yours, pausing the kiss to study your face. I want you, I want it all, you wished to say but he rendered you speechless as he moved his hips, aligning himself at your entrance. 

Affection.

Admiration.

Desire. 

You hoped he could see it as he looked at you. Maintaining eye-contact, he slowly pushed his cock inside you, stretching you, making you whole with small calculated thrusts at first. Wrapping your legs around him, you invited him even deeper, the thrusts becoming more rapid, forcing you to close your eyes but you couldn’t, you couldn’t break away from his gaze.    

“Are you still with me?” you muttered. This felt different and was different than the trysts in the forest but you had to be certain. He tittered, knowingly. “I’m here, my love.”

He pulled out completely and entered you again, pressing his mouth on yours, stifling a heavenly whimper and causing you to lose a bit of control. You swung your arm away as lightning crackled at your fingertips. Just in time. A lightning bolt shot out and hit one of the big blood jars on the shelf, blood spilling everywhere. 

“You darling, are a menace, aren’t you?” 

“No more than you are,” you countered, kissing the tip of his nose. 

“Touché.”  

Grinning mischievously the way only he could, he awarded you with yet another agonizingly slow thrust, and another, and another, your whimpers and moans mirroring his own. He was still fully present, your bodies in perfect sync. Tiny droplets of sweat were trickling down his forehead, his luscious locks slightly disheveled. He’d always been a walking sin but at the given moment, a whole nunnery would go straight to the Hells just by looking at him. 

He picked up the pace, pushing harder and you were coming close, so close, the throbbing sensation robbing you of breath entirely. “You feel…so incredible,” he murmured hoarsely.

“Astarion, please!” you begged, tightening your hold around him and arching your back. So close. He sucked your lower lip, grazing it with his fangs but you couldn’t care less. You could feel him tensing against you and you kissed him, tasting blood on your tongue as you climaxed together in harmony. Another lightning bolt shot out of your hand as you did, smashing more bottles. A hearty chuckle reverberated in his throat when he looked at the carnage of blood and broken glass on the floor. 

"Oh my...what do you have to say for yourself now, dear?"

"I love you."

He smiled blissfully and nuzzled your neck. "That works, I suppose."

Later, after you helped him clean the mess you’d made and you wound up tangled in the sheets again crying out his name even louder, he told you those little words. And this time they weren’t a lie.

~~~

“You look positively radiant, my friend,” Gale greeted you the next day as you arrived to Sorcerous Sundries.

“And bringing some good news to boot,” you said, blushing as you recounted last night's events. “No need to send Astarion more letters about me.”

The wizard opened his mouth like a fish and quickly scuttled to the corner of the room to rearrange the bookshelves that didn’t quite require more rearranging.

[finniestoncrane]

Hello and congrats 🎊 2k followers, that’s quite a milestone 💖

I’m big in the fallout brain rot right now and yes I know, Squire Thaddeus is not on your list of characters you write for, but I really like your style and thought I’d ask nonetheless 😅

So a Thaddeus x Reader, after he’s running from the brotherhood. like reader is down bad for him, but he doesn’t get it until reader basically strips down in front of him 😅

Also if this isn’t your type of thing or character to write, I just wanted to thank you for your stories 💖

Thaddeus x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.2k aaaaaah!! thank you!! you're so kind ;-; i am obsessed with johnny pemberton, he's such a weird lil guy , so i am projecting that heavily onto thaddeus who is also a weird little guy at least from what we see of him lol 🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: cmnf, oblivious thaddeus, flirting, nudity, suggestive stuff, blood (from a nose bleed)

You watched across the small fire as Thaddeus picked at the tin of beans in his lap. Finally settled for the night in an abandoned cabin, another day of journeying far from the Brotherhood, you decided it would be the perfect time to lay it on thick for him. You'd been flirting, charming, letting your touches linger, but nothing yet had been enough to get a reaction from him, and you were getting desperate.

So you opted to give it one last big effort, deciding that if it wasn't enough to get him interested in you, that you could officially give up on any hopes of being with him.

Since settling in for the evening, you'd swept up the floor, laid out bed rolls, and started a fire to cook the tins of food you found in one of the cupboards. You'd even let Thaddeus pick which one he'd rather eat. Nothing made you giddier than seeing him smile, his lip curling up, patchy moustache disappearing under his nose as his two, large, gapped front teeth became visible.

He was so cute. And you couldn't wait any longer.

"You know, Thaddeus. I think you're brave. I think you're so brave."

He looked up at you, surprise on his face, a questioning eyebrow raised into his forehead. With his mouth full of beans he tried to speak.

"mmmph-Really?"

You nodded your head, making sure to look up at him through your eyelashes, half-lidded eyes offering a sultry gaze in his direction.

"I really do. I wouldn't feel half as safe out here if it wasn't for you. You're like my protector. My knight."

"Your knight?"

He scrunched his nose up in disbelief, resting his features only when your hand reached out and stroked his arm.

"Oh yeah, you're so big... and strong..."

Thaddeus tilted his head, more confusion covering his puppy-dog features as he tried to take your compliments.

"Strong... really?"

"Mhm, and so handsome too. Like super handsome. Sexy even."

"Huh... Well, thanks I guess!"

He stood up form the fire with his empty can and spoon and you joined him, following close behind, not wanting to the opportunity to pass by you despite how difficult he was making things. You were so close to him, in face, that you have him a shock when he turned back from the sink where out of habit he'd placed the spoon.

"Oh! Almost knocked you over there, ha."

You laughed hard, a forced and exaggerated chuckle, and placed your hand on his chest. You let your fingers stroke up and down against him as you spoke.

"Thaddeus, you are so funny. You're just perfect!"

With a slight blush on his cheeks, he tried to offer some false modesty in response.

"I do try."

"Gosh, is there anything you can't do?"

The question flustered him a little, since there was actually plenty he couldn't do, and you were well aware of that, but he didn't know how to express it all.

"I guess... I guess maybe?"

Sensing that the question might have been a little too difficult, a little too tender for someone who had just been kicked out of the Brotherhood of Steel for failing to kill a target, lying on behalf of another brother, and injecting himself with an unknown substance which was slowly turning him into an unknown abomination, you changed tactics.

"Well... Is there anything else you're particularly good at?"

HIs lips were the focus of your attention, the seemingly universal sign that you were determined to kiss him, if he'd let you. You licked your own, a tempting tongue sliding over them. But Thaddeus, yet again, missed the signal.

"Uh, I don't know really."

Still focused, although speaking through slightly gritted teeth, you stepped a little closer to him.

"Your lips look soft. Are you any good at kissing?"

He took a moment to think, and you felt the weight on your chest lighten, believing that maybe, finally, you'd gotten through to him.

"I haven't actually kissed anyone, so I have no idea."

Thaddeus shrugged as he spoke, and then walked right past you, completely oblivious to any of your efforts, your flirting, your obvious compliments. And you'd finally had it. In a fit of sheer rage, you yelled out loud.

"Oh my god, Thaddeus! How much more obvious to I need to be!?"

He looked at you with wide, empty eyes, confusion written all over his sweet face and his mouth fell open, but no words came out. As far as he was concerned, you were suddenly yelling at him for no reason at all, at least not one he could figure out.

"I mean, what will it take, huh? Do I have to get down on one knee for you? Spell it out in the bones of my enemies? Write it on every bullet for your stupid gun? Strip down completely and offer myself up? Hm? Is that what it would take? Well..."

You pulled at the zip of your jumpsuit, tearing it down in one swift movement, exposing your underwear and bare skin to him. It slid down your waist and you shimmied out of it, kicking it aggressively to one side before moving to your underwear, pulling it off your body ferociously until you were completely naked in front of him. Laid bare, panting furiously.

"There. Now do you get it? I want you Thaddeus. You can have me."

He was completely still, eyes wide, pupils huge, intensely focused on your breasts which moved slightly with every heaving breath you took. As he opened his mouth to try and say something, anything, he was interrupted by a sudden taste of metal against his tongue.

"Oh my god, Thaddeus? Are you ok?"

Blood spilled from his nose, fast and thick, and you rushed to him, kneeling beside him and holding his cheeks between your hands.

"Aw, you poor thing. What happened?"

With a stutter he spoke, closing his eyes to avoid the embarrassment of admitting the truth, though his cheeks were flushing a bright pink that gave his shame away.

"It's... I've never seen... that- those- before... not in person."

You stifled a giggle, knowing it would likely only make him more embarrassed. He really was oblivious, but so inexperienced that you could forgive him.

"Oh, Thaddy..."

You stroked his hair, leaning into him, bringing his head to rest on your chest. he gasped softly, mouth trembling as he felt the soft cushion of your breasts against his cheek.

"How about once it stops, we see if we can get another few firsts in for you, then?"

Thaddeus swallowed loud, an almost comical gulp that pushed away his nerves long enough for him to get out a complete sentence.

"I don't think it's going to stop until I'm not touching a part of your naked body."

"Huh... better just power through then."

You kicked a leg over him, straddling his body, a twitch stirring in the front of his pants as he let his eyes linger over your breasts, his nose still dripping, cheeks bright red, and eyes going hazy as he waited, still looking for more confirmation that this was really happening.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

smile

natasha romanoff x f!reader prompt: smile theme: fluff (tags beneath the cut)

Agent12-84r: Dear lord, this is boring. Can I go home yet?

BlackWidow: In what world do you think I have a say in dismissing this meeting?

One side of your mouth twitched upward in a small smirk as you read her reply, stealing a glance over to where Natasha sat on the other side of the room. Her attention was trained dutifully towards the front of the room, a well-practiced look of cool detachment coloring her features. You’d been sitting in this briefing for over an hour; Hill was caught in another meeting and you were stuck listening to her replacement drone on about mission protocol you’d heard a thousand times before.

Agent12-84r: Aren’t you famous or something now?

Agent12-84r: Also, why does your username get to be anything other than a bunch of random code?

Natasha’s gaze dropped to the tablet screen in front of her for a moment, and she typed out a reply as the lecturer turned his attention towards your side of the room.

BlackWidow: Please don’t remind me.

BlackWidow: What makes you think I have control over that?

Agent12-84r: Are you saying you don’t?

The corner of Natasha’s lips twitched upward in an infuriatingly almost-smile, and she pointedly turned her attention to the speaker again. You spent so many of these seemingly endless meetings sending messages back and forth with Nat, and not once had you managed to break her composure. It had become something of a running challenge, and with each mind-numbing debriefing you became more and more determined to make her waver in her cool demeanor.

How you’d never been caught, you had no idea.

The man in front of you was droning on about correct recon procedure, and you slid your fingertips along your phone screen, scanning your images idly in search of some kind of meme that might finally break her. Most of them were ones you had exchanged with Barton on late night stake outs, and your continued to scroll for a few minutes before your finger paused.

You cast a look at the agent beside you before opening the image that had caught your eye, a small smirk playing on the edge of your mouth. You’d taken in front of a full-length mirror, a teasing smile on your face and the bathrobe you were wearing barely covering your naked body. Your hair was still wet from a shower, water droplets clinging to the smooth line of your sternum and leaving lines over your bare stomach.

Opening the options you opened your texts instead, and you cast another glance towards Natasha before pressing send.

Her phone buzzed quietly against the tabletop, and you trained your eyes forward as she glanced surreptitiously towards you. You watched out of your periphery as she opened the message, both pride and excitement blooming inside you as you finally saw her façade break, her lips curving in a smile. She met your eye as she sent a response.

Natasha: Oh, well now you’re in trouble.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @castieltrash1​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[samynnad102687]

Locker Room

@struttingstag

May 17 Prompt: Locker Room | James/Regulus/Barty | 1773 words

TW: NSFW, RAPE, CON-NONCON, Happy Ending, I swear

Minors Do Not Read!!!

"And Marlene McKinnon caught the snitch, Gryffindor wins 230 - 150!"

James sighed in relief before he descended to the ground to engulf Marlene in a hug. It had been a gruelling match against Ravenclaw. James should have expected as much since they wiped the floor with them last time. Sometimes, he would forget how competitive Ravenclaws could be.

After the congratulating handshakes and everything, James headed off the the locker rooms to shower. He was dirty and wanted nothing more than to get clean and ready for the victory party at Gryffindor Tower tonight. Everyone was invited of course, except Slytherin. Well, there were a couple of Slytherins invited but James wasn't sure if they would be willing to come tonight.

James took a long shower. As much as he loved the attention after bringing his team to another victory, he really just wanted to relax before he had to deal with anybody. James waited to get out until he was sure that everybody else had left the locker room. Only then did he shut off the water and grab his towel before loosely wrapping it around his waist.

However, James stopped short when he realised that he wasn't alone in the locker room like he thought. No, two Slytherins were standing there and smirking at him. Great, that's just what he needed right now. It was bad enough that he almost lost his match, now he had to deal with these two.

"Is there a reason you two are in the Gryffindor locker room?" James asked casually as he walked over to his locker to grab his clothes.

"Whatever do you mean?" Crouch replied as he leaned up against the lockers next to James.

"Aside from the fact that Slytherin didn't play today and would have no reason to be in the locker rooms, this is the Gryffindor locker room," James reiterated before he glanced at Blalck who had taken it upon himself to take a seat on the bench and lean back casually like it was a normal occurrence for him to be in this particular locker room.

"Oh, we were just looking for my brother," Black responded with a wave of his hand. "You haven't seen him, have you, Potter?"

"Not since the match," James shrugged, keeping his eyes on the inside of his locker as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Is that so? I'd have expected you two to shower together if I'm perfectly honest," Crouch remarked as he took a step closer. "You do seem awfully close."

"That's gonna happen considering he's my best friend. The closeness, not the showering together. We're not that close."

"Hmm, are you sure about that?" Black replied airily.

When James turned around to face him, he was standing right behind him. James' breath hitched with how close he was and he couldn't miss the smirk on Crouch's face even if he tried.

"Positive," James replied as he tried to keep his tone level.

Crouch took one look at Black and laughed, full-bodied as he threw his head back. James gritted his teeth as he pursed his lips into a thin line.

"You know, Reggie," Crouch mused, "I don't think Potter wants to play with us today."

"Hmm," Black looked James up and down with a hunger that he hadn't seen on him before. "That's a shame. I was looking forward to bending him over this bench and taking him for a ride."

James couldn't help it when his jaw dropped. What?! There was no way he just said that.

"Who said we needed his permission to have a little fun?" Crouch smiled devilishly.

"What?" James choked out when the words processed in his mind.

Apparently, it took him too long though because the next thing James knew, he was on his knees and bent over the bench with his hands tied to the legs of it. James tried to pull on the ropes but it was no use and he wasn't that great a wandless or wordless magic yet. He tried to look around from where he was but he couldn't see anything and that made his heart race even more than being tied to the bench. He hadn't even had time to put his pants on and they seemed to have also taken the towel, leaving him in just his shirt.

There was the slam of the door and a click of the lock. James frantically looked around again before he felt the thrum of a silencing charm being put up around the locker room. Even if he tried to scream, nobody would hear him. James sagged against the bench. What were they planning on doing to him?

"Doesn't he look so pretty all tied up like that," Crouch mused and James snapped his head around to see him over by the door.

"He really does," Black replied as he ran his hand up James' thigh and gripped at his ass.

"What do you want? Just let me go and I won't tell anybody about this," James pleaded as he jutted forward into the bench as a finger circled his rim.

"Oh, I have no doubts that you won't be telling anybody about this," Black laughed before he dropped his hand down on James' ass with a loud crack.

"Please, please just let me go. I don't know what you want," James begged as he tried to look behind him but there was a grip in his hair that forced his head down so that he was looking at everything upside down.

"Mouthy little shit, isn't he?" Crouch asked before yanking James' head up so he was staring at him. "We know how to take care of that, don't we Reggie?"

"Hmm," Black hummed noncommittally before a green and silver tie moved past James' eyes and balled up before it was forced into his mouth.

James grumbled around it and Crouch took his own to force it into James' mouth as well, holding the other one in place and tying it behind James' head.

"Much better," Crouch laughed as he patted James on the cheek before dropping his head altogether.

James whined as he tried to pull on the ropes again but it was no use. He had never seen ropes tied so expertly. He sagged on the bench again until he realised it was quiet. He tried to look around but saw nothing. He did however feel something. A wand poked at his entrance and a preparation spell was being performed. It was then that he realised that they intended on raping him. James tried to fight again, only for one of them to smack his ass so hard that he was sure he wouldn't be able to sit down for at least a few hours if not the rest of the night.

"You know, I love it when they fight," Crouch laughed. "It's more fun that way. Honestly, I didn't think Potter had it in him to fight anything."

James mumbled around the tie in his mouth as he tried to argue but it just came out in a garbled mess of sounds. Crouch and Black laughed before one of them gripped his ass and shoved their dick inside him until he screamed around the gag. They were thrusting in and out at a punishing pace as James tried to get away from them. There was a hand in his hair that yanked his head up and bent back until James was looking into Black's grey eyes. They were similar to his brother's but not as gentle.

"Stop fighting bitch. It's going to happen whether you want it to or not so you might as well relax as much as you can," Black growled before he threw James' head back down.

"How is he, Reg?"

"Fucking tight as hell. Merlin, and so fucking wet. You would think that he was enjoying this," Black laughed hollowly.

Crouch grabbed James' hair again and gripped it until James winced from the pain. "Are you enjoying this, Potter? Do you like it when we take advantage of you?"

James tried to shake his head but was cut off by the moan that escaped when Black thrust hard and brushed his dick against that bundle of nerves that had James' cock twitch where it hung heavy beneath him.

"Oh, he does," Crouch chuckled before he dipped low to whisper in James' ear. "Then you'll really love this."

Before James could figure out what he was talking about, Crouch removed the ties from his mouth and replaced them with his hard cock instead. He trusted it as far back as possible until James gagged on it and pushed it farther still. It took all of two seconds before Crouch was meeting Black's pace and thrusting into his mouth while Balck thrust into his ass. James clenched his hands as he tried not to be aroused by them forcing themselves on him.

It didn't help when Black grabbed James' dick and started stroking it with the same intensity as he and Crouch were thrusting into him. James resigned himself to being used because there was no way he was getting out of this.

A while later, could have been minutes or hours, James wasn't sure but he felt Crouch stutter to a stop as he gripped James' hair, thrust his dick deep into James' throat and came down it. Black did the same as he gripped one of his hips and drove himself as deep as he could go before coming in James' ass and stroked James until he shouted around Crouch's dick when he also came.

They both pulled out and James slumped onto the bench as his knees gave out. He was breathing hard and not all there at the moment. When he came down from his orgasm, it was to gentle fingers in his hair and his hands untied before he was pulled into somebody's lap. James looked up to see Regulus smiling down at him.

"How was that baby?"

"Fucking fantastic," James laughed lightly as he looked for Barty.

Barty came over as soon as James reached for him and kissed him on the forehead before he started to rub a healing cream into his wrists.

"Thank you," James said once he was fully back to reality.

"Anything for you, mon soleil," Regulus smiled before he dipped down to capture James' lips in a sweet chaste kiss.

"I love you guys," James replied sleepily.

"I love you too, Jamie," Barty and Regulus said at the same time and James closed his eyes as he snuggled closer to his boyfriends.

Also posted on Ao3: Double-Teamed

[guilty-pleasures21]

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

7. Sigh, this is my life now

Part 1 - The last day

Part 2 - the friends

Part 3 - the lunch

Part 4 - the revelation

Warnings: None.

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

X bit down on a nervous smile when she saw the messages on her phone. Her ex-intern had already sent her a barrage of messages almost immediately after returning to the office, and X had promised to update her over coffee sometime, but it looked like the news had quickly spread through the rest of the office as well. Her stomach flipped with delight at the confirmation that everyone knew that he was hers now, and she tapped her thumbs against her phone as she thought of a response.

     Hui Fen peeked her head into the room, checking to see if Miguel was already there: Nate was supposed to be in charge of the regular biolab meeting this month, so Miguel would have probably joined him in coming early and setting up. Hui Fen grinned when she saw Miguel and Nate alone in the room, the both of them scrolling through last month’s notes as they waited for everyone else to arrive. She rushed over to the seat next to Miguel, prompting a curious glance from Nate, but a characteristic lack of response from Miguel. 

     “So, I heard that you bumped into some of the interns at lunch?” Hui Fen began. Miguel sighed immediately, closing his eyes as he lowered his head. Already? He’d thought that it would take at least a full day before anyone started interrogating him on his relationship. Hui Fen slid her gaze over to Nate’s in question, then she leaned across the table to whisper to him. “Is it X?” 

     Nate glanced over at Miguel with wide eyes, then he turned back to Hui Fen, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He nodded. Hui Fen covered her mouth with her hand as she leaned back in her seat, hiding her delighted grin from everyone else starting to arrive. Oh, she was definitely going to use this piece of information for her own entertainment. 

     Wendy peeked into Miguel’s office cautiously, nervous for her final one-on-one with him. She hadn’t had any catastrophes after X had left, so she thought she’d done all right, but Miguel had high expectations for anyone he took into his lab, so she had no idea how her final review with him would go. Miguel looked up from his computer and raised an eyebrow at Wendy as she hesitated in the doorway. “Come in.” 

     She gulped and took the seat across from Miguel, reminding herself that he was her friend’s boyfriend now and he couldn’t really be that scary and mean if X thought that he was great. Miguel sighed and turned his chair to face her. “Wendy, you’ve been avoiding me ever since lunch that day. I know X has already told you everything, so just ask me what you want to ask.”

     She hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by her boss’s directness. Then the questions began flooding her mind. “Do you guys talk about me?”

     Miguel’s lips twitched with amusement as he took in her wide eyes. “Yes. Next question.”

     “Wait! What?! You actually talk about me?!” Wendy screeched, starting to panic. “What does X say?! Does she actually secretly hate me?”

     Miguel raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Why would you think that?”

     “I don’t know …” Wendy trailed off, realising she didn’t actually have a reason to think that. Then she leaned forward, a new question entering her mind. “Have you guys met each others’ families yet?!”

     Miguel lowered his head, suddenly shy. Dios, he felt like a teenager again! Crushing on his cute little girlfriend and wanting to make a good impression on everyone who mattered to her. “Yeah, I, uh, I met her mum first. And then her sister. And then the rest of her family.”

     Wendy straightened, her nerves turning into excitement. “What did they think? Do they like you? I mean, you’re, like, X’s ideal guy that she’s always talked about. They have to like you, right?” 

     He snickered softly at her enthusiasm. Wendy had always been such a genuine person - someone who never had any hidden intentions behind her actions - and X had confided in him her worry that she’d be taken advantage of by others. He’d reassured his girlfriend that he’d keep an eye out for her and she seemed to have been doing fine so far. But, mierda, she’d talked about him being her ideal guy? To everyone? Maybe he should be the one asking what X really thought about him. “Yeah, they’re … They like me. But actually, can I ask you some questions?”

     “O-Oh!” Winnie stammered, shifting in her seat nervously. “Okay? What do you want to ask?”

     “Did X ever talk about me? When you guys were, like, having lunch and stuff?”

     “Hmm,” Winnie hummed, considering the question. “She never brought you up, but when other people started talking about you, she’d always get really shy and … embarrassed? Like, we’d always point out that you were basically her ideal guy, but she’d always be like ‘oh no! He’s my boss! That’s so inappropriate!’. But then she’d blush really hard.”

     Miguel grinned as he sat back in his seat, delighted to find out this new piece of information. 

     “Wow,” Wendy smiled, finding her normally stoic boss’s happiness infectious, “you really like her.”

     “Uh … Yeah. I do.” He nodded slowly in agreement and pressed his lips together to try to stop his smile. 

     “How long have you liked her for? When did you start liking her?” Wendy questioned, easily slipping back into her interrogation. Miguel raised an eyebrow at her, then opened up her laptop. 

     “Okay! So. Back to your off-boarding.” Wendy shot him a sheepish smile and the two of them started going through her files together. 

     X trudged through the door, slumped over tiredly. She didn’t even look up at him as she slipped her shoes off before collapsing face down onto the sofa and screaming into a pillow. Miguel raised an eyebrow at her from where he was cooking dinner in the kitchen. “¿Querida? ¿Qué pasó, mi amor? Who should I beat up?”

     X lifted her head and twisted it back to shoot her boyfriend an unamused look. Miguel returned with a sneaky little smile and X sighed as her lips curled at the ends. She pushed herself off the sofa and stomped over to him, sliding her arms around his waist when she reached him. He turned around to wrap her up in his arms and X finally relaxed at the feeling of being held firmly against his solid chest. “My stupid PCR won’t work.”

     His heart fluttered at the way her complaint was muffled by how she’d buried her face in his chest. He leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head and rubbed her back reassuringly. 

     “You’ll figure it out. You figured out the stupid HPLC, right?” His smile widened at the soft snicker he managed to coax out of her. “I’ll help you go through it later, hmm? Why don’t you go shower and have your dinner first?”

     She tilted her head up and puckered her lips, silently asking him for a kiss. Miguel smiled and pecked her lips a few times, then rested his head on her shoulder, hugging her tight. He pressed another kiss to the side of her head, then he turned back to his pan. 

     “So,” X began, leaning on the table beside him, “how was Wendy’s off-boarding today?”

     “It was fine,” Miguel assured her. “We talked about you.” He slid his gaze over to her to gauge her reaction, but she just sighed and waved him off. 

     “You always say that, querido. And then you’re not gonna tell me what you talked about!” She flashed him an annoyed look as she turned around and leaned back against the counter. Miguel laughed. 

     “This time, I’ll tell you, querida. She was saying that apparently I’m your ideal guy?”

     Her eyes widened with horror and embarrassment. “Um, why … Why would she … Why would she think that?”

     Miguel gave her a knowing look, then he turned to her, leaning his hip against the counter as he began counting off on his fingers. 

     “Taller than you. Smarter than you - but not in an obnoxious way; someone you can learn from. A man of colour, preferably, so you have shared childhood experiences. Multilingual, definitely. Bonus points if he’s an oldest child: then he’ll know what it feels like.” He placed his arms on either side of her, trapping her against the counter, and bent over to meet her gaze. “Should I go on?”

     X rolled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Does that inflate your ego, janam?”

     Miguel smiled and pressed a few quick kisses to her lips. Then he wrapped her up in his arms and cuddled her against him. “Mmm. I love you, princesa.”

     X let out a little laugh, all her earlier stress melting away. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Tags: @heubstr @zayai @amberbalcom14 @julia4today

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers

Writing prompt: What are we going to do with [blank]?

Sorry besties, I'm a bit late. @missmaywemeetagain @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

Summary: Mary didn't want to leave the US. Elvis didn't want to leave either. Yet, they somehow found themselves on the same ship steaming towards Europe.

Word count: ~4k

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Aboard the USS Randall, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. September 30th 1958

Mary pulled the blanket tighter around her body when another cool breeze mixed with icy sea water hit her face. She could taste the salt on her lips and rubbed her stinging eyes. After blinking a few times she resumed to watching how the full moon above her relected in the calm waves below her. She leaned foward, her numb hands slipping from below the rough fabric to tightly grip onto the even colder steel of the railing. Hearing the steady splashing of the water against the side of the ship had a calming effect on her troubled mind.

Being the daughter of an army officer meant moving around, never really having a place she could really call home. After eighteen years should reall be used to it by now. But leaving for another country, not knowing the language or the people at all, made her feel slightly nauseous. Mary took a deep breath and tried to focus on the rhythmic splashing of the water again.

"Afraid there ain't enough lifeboats?" A familiar voice suddenly called behind her.

She whirled around and winced when her elbow hit the railing. It took her a moment to realise who the silhouette in the shadows belonged to. It was him. With his hair clean cut like the rest of the army boys, the side burns that used to make every girl go absolute bonkers now shaven off. Disbelief flooded her mind like the cold, salty ocean water below her. This was the second time she ran into him this week. Or well, he ran into her. And the probability of that happening wasn't very high, she tought, recalling a conversation she had a few days ago.

Janet, a bubbly thirteen year old, and her friend Terry had exitedly sat down next to her, while she enjoyed a cup of coffee and read a magazine in the day room. "Mary, we missed him again! They said he was on the sun deck, but when we got there they said he just left!"

Mary raised her coffee cup to her lips, almost burning her tongue in the process and smiled at her. "...You have four more days, Janet. I'm sure there will be another opportunity."

"Don't you want to meet him?"

Mary put her magazine down and leaned back into the plush pillow of her seat. She just couldn't bear to tell the girls that their teen idol seemed to be rather annoyed by the officer's daughters ambushing him everywhere he went. At least that's what her father told her. "Oh, sure I would... But I'd be an awkward mess in front of him." She leaned over with a grin. "You ladies should be the ones meeting him."

Janet had giggled and turned over to her friend. "Oh, what are we going to do with him once we meet him?"

"I want to hug him! And I'll ask him for an autograph!" Terry exclaimed, clapping her hands in exitement.

"I want to take a picture with him!" Janet swooned.

"Maybe he'll sing for us!"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Mary had added with a fond smile and a good natured shake of her head as she watched the exited teen girls dance around each other, before darting out of the day room towards the deck again.

"You." She now stated, looking him up and down. He approached her, twirling the ring on his pinky.

"Me." he countered, still in his neat uniform, as he leaned against the railing with his back.

She let out a flustered laugh. "I'm not really concerned about the life boats. More about what's gonna happen tomorrow."

A wistful look overtook his beautiful features and he slightly inclined his head, as if nodding along. He hummed and drummed his fingers against the steel. Mary had seen this particular look two nights before.

She never thought that the fact that her father taught himself how to play the guitar during the war would lead to her dancing with Elvis Presley. But it did on that one evening, an evening where everyone on board craved entertainment, a distraction. Ski, the cheerful G.I. with the accordion, apparently organised the whole thing, asking everyone who could to play an instrument. Of course her father had stepped up and exitedly invited her, her mother and her brother to come to see him being part this very exclusive show.

"Elvis will be there as well, right?" Mary had asked a few hours before the mini concert was supposed to start.

Her father stopped rolling his cigarette and looked up to her. "Yes dear, I reckon he will be. Don't think he'll spend the night in his cabin." He answered with a light hearted smile.

She absentmidedly pulled at the sleeves of her dress. "Do you think I could bring some of the other girls? They spend their entire time here trying to accidentally run into Elvis." she chuckled.

"Oh, I don't know, dear. If everyone brought their friends there'd be a thousand people in the day room... I'm afraid it's not possible. You might want to ask Ski about that." he offered with a shrug.

She chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "No, it's alright, I don't want to cause any trouble." she hummed, a bit bummed out. "I guess I'll just have to get them an autograph or something. If I get the opportunity."

Later that evening a man named Charlie Hodge introduced himself and acted as emcee for the evening, her father stood proudly in the background with his guitar. She'd never seen him so exited and child like before, which made her grin widely, yet mildly weirded her out at the same time. But the weirdest thing during the whole show must have been the fact that hip-swinging Elvis the Pelvis, how the magazines called him, sat still at the piano, looking all prim and proper, not uttering a single word. He didn't even get introduced. She kept looking around in confusion, trying to figure out if she was the only one noticing this strange circumstance. Apparently she either was the only one or everyone just skillfully ignored this mystery.

It was then when she observed his gaze, she noticed he was seemingly a thousand miles away. His blue eyes weren't twinkling with mirth like they usually did when she used to watch him on tv. His full lips formed something that resembled both a permanent pout and a scowl. He looked so incredibly sad, it made her heart hurt. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood to sing, she reasoned. The recent death of his mother must still weigh heavy on him, the rare smiles and laughs this Charlie guy managed to get out of him from time to time never really reaching his eyes. It just seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. Mary wondered if she should approach him at all or just leave him alone. For now she chose to do the latter.

She busied herself cheering on her father as he supported the "USS Randall Ramblers", as they introduced themselves. Yet, she found that her eyes kept wandering to the raven haired man at the piano. His mouth kept moving, as if singing along, just for himself. When she looked down she saw his feet tapping on the creaky, wooden floor and his knees jiggling slightly as if he couldn't contain the movement even if he tried to.

She looked up at his face again and noticed that he was looking right back at her, their eyes locking. She stopped in her tracks, the music and laughter around her now sounding muffled and dull. Her breathing picked up under his intense gaze and she tried not to choke on her own spit when one corner of his lip lifted into a small half smile. She managed to smile back, though it probably looked more like a grimace and quickly averted her eyes again in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Out of corner of her eye she saw him shaking his head with a grin.

When the show was over many, including Mary and her family, still lingered, not wanting this light, merry atmosphere to fade into the not so fun reality. The people around her started carelessly dancing, singing and drinking and even her parents dared to join the other dancing couples, leaving Mary to sit alone with her little brother. It was then, thankfully, that Charlie Hodge approached her and held out his hand to her.

"Care to join me for a dance?" he asked with a, what she has to admit, was a rather cute smile. She skillfully ignored her brother snorting loudly next to her and slipped her hand into Charlie's with a smile.

"I'd love to." she agreed and he wasted no time to pull her along with him. Charlie was a rather small fella, her low heels caused her to actually be an inch taller than him, which she found kind of endearing. He was also careful to keep a respectful distance between their bodies, his grip on her waist light and gentle as he slowly twirled her around.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked in a loud voice, the music and laughter around them making it hard for her to understand him.

She nodded enthusiastically. "It was a great performance! Really, uh, I think we all needed that to be honest."

He smiled up at her. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Gotta do something on this ship to keep everyone's spirit up."

"It's horribly draining isn't it?"

"Especially for some of us." he nodded, his eyes briefly, involuntarily, flicking towards something behind her.

She looked up at him quizzically before turning her head with her eyebrows scrunched up, to see what he was looking at.

Elvis stood next to a table on the other side of the room with his hands on his hips, talking to another man. Well, the talking consisted of him dutifully nodding along, his eyes blank, and his expression neutral. Except for the slight raise of one eyebrow. If anything he looked annoyed and exhausted. It was as if he felt her gaze on him, his eyes moving away from the man in front if him and suddenly their eyes locked again. She quickly turned back to Charlie, embarrassed once more that he caught her staring. He didn't seem to notice her discomfort though.

"Uh, you mean Elvis?" She asked, just wanting to say something.

He shook his head defensively. "No, I, um meant young, delicate girls like yourself. Uh, doesn't do you no good being on a warship this long."

She hummed with a sceptical look on her face, more interested about what he apparently had to say about Elvis.

"You know him? Elvis?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You two seem rather familiar." she shrugged.

"We share a bunk. Known him for a few years now, we reconnected in the army." he explained with a fond smile.

"Ah." she nodded in understanding and looked down. Which is why she didn't notice Charlie's eyes widening slightly before she heard a booming voice behind her.

"Man, you're stepping all over her feet, give the poor girl a break."

"EP-"

"Nah man, step away, lemme show ya how to do it." Elvis didn't even wait for her reaction to the whole exchange as he pulled her away from Charlie's gentle grasp and pressed her against his hard body, one hand around her waist, one hand guiding her head towards his chest. Whereas Charlie had carefully ensured there was enough space between their bodies for a theoretical third person to join in, Elvis didn't seem to share this sentiment. With no regards towards her personal space he held her in a tight grip, her cheek now resting against his toned chest, the smell of his cologne immediately causing her brain to short circuit. He was definitely taller than her previous dance partner as well, she thought while he started swaying them lightly back and forth. She saw Charlie quickly shuffling away and realised for the first time that she was now, in fact, dancing with Elvis Presley.

"Sorry about him, sweetheart. He's just really awkward in front of girls. Good thing I came to rescue ya." He mumbled and laid his cheek against her hair like they'd known each other for years.

She looked around, trying to discern if anyone had witnessed the spectacle that just happened. She'd hate to be the center of attention. Luckily everyone was still rather busy with themselves and in high spirits, the small incident thankfully not spoiling with the wonderfully exuberant atmosphere. "Do you always steel away girls from your buddies like that?" Mary asked, her voice a bit muffled, her cheek and lips still smushed against his dapper uniform.

He hummed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Only the pretty ones. Ol' Charlie wouldn't know how to treat a girl like ya."

"And you do?"

"I know everything about women there is to know, sweetheart."

"Most girls aren't that complicated, you know?"

"Every single one is, sweetheart."

"Well, the one's onboard aren't that hard to please, believe me. I'll tell you as a woman."

He hummed and released his grip on her hair to look at her, eyebrows raised quizzically.

She giggled. "It seems to be almost impossible to find you on this ship, you know that? My, uh friends keep trying to see you. That's all they want. But from what they're telling me you could actually be a ghost."

His face momentarily darkened again and Mary wondered if she said something wrong. She laughed awkwardly before continuing. "You know, they hear rumors that you could be there, or that you're spending your time here and once they go there... you're always gone. Vanished into thin air. Poof."

He needed a moment to register her words before giving her a regretful smile. "Oh, you know, I'd actually love to meet em, honey. See, they keep me busy sweeping the decks and scraping off rust. Ain't really got no time for myself. Or the girls."

She nodded and pursed her lips. "The way I see it you owe me something for the dance now, don't I?"

"Oh, so you're the one girl aboard not as easily pleased as the others? What a lucky guy I am."

"Now, that's something you brought upon yourself. Tearing me away so cruelly from poor Charlie."

"Told ya already, poor Charlie wouldn't know how to handle ya. The more I talk to ya the more I get the feeling that I'm right."

"And I get the feeling that this means you want to listen to the deal I'd like to propose?"

He smirked. "Oh, I'd love to hear a proposal from you, sweetie."

She jokingly rolled her eyes at him and he bit his lip, his own eyes half closed. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Focus. In exchange for the dance, I need you to at least sign some autographs for my friends, alright?"

"That much I can do, honey."

"Perfect! Thank you!"

Mary pulled him along to a nearby table and she reached out, gathering some of the white napkins. She laid them down in front of him.

"Pen, pen, pen..." she mumbled to herself over and over again frantically, her eyes scanning the area around her.

"Got one, honey. Don't get all worked up." he said with a smug smile and pulled a pen out of his breast pocket.

She gave him a look before pointing towards the paper in front of him. "For Janet, please. And Terry. Oh and Darby." She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, trying to remember the name of the other girl Janet regularly went Elvis hunting with. "And Sheila!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers triumphantly.

He leaned down. "Gotta lot of friends, honey." he smiled up at her through his long, black lashes and went on to sign the napkins, as she peered over his shoulders.

"What about you?" he asked as he finished writing and turned around again.

She took a startled step back, not realising how close she actually stood to him before. "Huh?"

He bit his lip again, trying to contain a playful smile. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Oh, Mary."

"Mary. That's pretty." He smiled as he leaned over the table again and grabbed another napkin to scribble down a personal autograph for her as well. When he finished he held it out to her, but quickly snatched it away again when she wanted to take it from him.

"Nah, sweetheart, this one costs extra." He chuckled, holding it high above his head where she couldn't reach it.

"Another dance?" she asked, wanting to sound serious, maybe even exasperated. Yet, she could barely suppress a smile.

He pointed to his cheek with an innocent expression. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him, making him pout. She sighed and leaned up on her tippy toes, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach and mentally prepared to be so close to him. Again. When she softly pressed her lips against his impossibly soft skin, she couldn't help but close her eyes and smile at the sensation. He leaned into her touch, pressing his cheek further against her mouth, relishing the feeling as well. There was a certain hollowness she felt in the pit of her stomach when she had to force herself to pull away from him before it got weird. She looked up at him expectantly.

He opened his eyes again and gently pressed the napkin into her hand. "Thank you so much, sweetie, you really didn't have to do this. But I'll accept it as your apology for being mean to me."

She stared up at him, open mouthed, at a loss of words. He raised her hand to his lips. "See you around, Mary." With a wink he left her standing there, clutching the signed napkins tightly in both in frustration and desire.

"Can't sleep either, huh? Or are ya seasick, leaning over the railing like that?" His playful voice startled her out of the memory.

She shrugged, and after another breeze of cold salt water against her face she decided to step away from the railing and sat down on a bench nearby. "Tomorrow we'll dock at Bremerhaven. My family is all exited about it."

"And you're not?" he asked and sat down beside her.

She shifted, her feet now resting on the bench as well so she could tuck them into her blanket. "I don't know. I'm a bit scared to be honest. Uh, what about you?"

He huffed. "...Were your little friends happy about the autographs?" he asked, quickly avoiding her question.

She blinked. "...Oh, uh yeah, they went absolutely crazy!" She chuckled at the memory of Janet flinging herself around her neck, eternally grateful. "It meant so much to them. Thank you, again."

He smiled and put his arm around her. "Thank you, sweetie. Always happy to make a deal with you."

She gave him an over the top sweet, fake, smile and he snorted. "But really, I'm glad... Don't know how many of them are left when I return."

She frowned at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile turned solemn and he looked down. "My... fans." he winced a bit at that word. "The folks who support me. They mean e-everything to me... Now that I'll be gone for at least two years..." he trailed off and shook his head.

"I think they know that you're not abandoning them. You're doing your duty." she argued and gestured to his uniform.

He ran a hand over his clean shaven face. "Doesn't matter. They'll forget a-about me."

She leaned over. "Don't be so hard on yourself. That's not gonna happen, I can't imagine dear Janet ever stopping trying to hunt you down. Just to get a small glimpse."

His eyes locked with hers again. "And what about you?"

"Mhm. I'll certainly always remember that handsome G.I. playing the piano. He's a great dancer as well. Oh, and he has a beautiful voice. Unfortunately he didn't sing, but I know he can. I saw him perform on tv. Can you believe that?" She said with big eyes.

He snorted a little and raised one eyebrow at her. "Sounds like an interesting fella."

"Oh you won't believe it. Definitely someone who leaves a lasting impression."

"Aww, you're sweet for saying that, baby. Means a lot to me."

She sighed. "If we wouldn't dock tomorrow I'd personally organise another show. Just you and me and the girls." she chuckled and gently ran her fingers over his forehead.

There was a beat of silence until he released a shuddering breath. "I'd love that. When we were dancing, you, uh made me forget everything for a minute... It was really nice."

"I liked it too." She gently smiled.

"...I-I'm not even allowed to sing anymore, Mary." he whispered after a few minutes of agreeable silence.

"...Uh, you know, I was wondering about that. The other day... you only played the piano."

He took a deep breath. "That I did."

"And you didn't sing." she continued with a pointed look.

He absentmindedly reached up and removed his hat, revealing the trim army hair cut, instead of the perfectly styled pompadour she was used to. "The uh, army a-and my manager thought it would be better if I didn't." He explained and carefully examined the hat he held in his hands, narrowing his eyes at it, as if it was personally responsible for his misery.

"They, uh really forbid you to sing? As in you're really not allowed to?"

He shrugged, his voice failing him and laid his head against her shoulder, both of his arms now around her waist. She swallowed hard. "I-I'd certainly like to have a talk with that manager of yours. Forbidding you to perform. I don't believe it."

His icy nose bumped against her warm neck, and a chill ran down her spine. "It's just not s-supposed to be like that. Nothing. Everything is... going wrong." he whispered and pressed himself even closer to her.

A bit overwhelmed, Mary didn't really know what to do to comfort the man next to her who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. She now understood what Charlie Hodge meant when they were dancing two nights ago. It wasn't just that he wasn't allowed to sing. He was afraid. Terribly afraid. Of the future, of being alone. He was probably even more afraid than her. She noticed him shivering a bit, his head still angled away from her. When she heard him sniffle quietly she fully turned her body towards him and saw a single tear running down his reddened cheek.

"You're cold." she stated and opted to pretend like she thought his runny nose was a direct result of the icy wind still hitting their faces. "Come here." she whispered as she pulled away her blanket and drew in a sharp breath a the sudden cool air hitting her body. Then she carefully draped the rough fabric around him as well, wrapping them both up in a tight cocoon. He wordlessly snuggled up to her, his cold hands around her waist making her shiver once again.

His voice trembled a bit when he spoke up again. "Mary, will I see you again?"

"I don't know." she answered, honestly.

"You'll have to c-come visit me. In Friedberg. I-I'll a-arrange it." he stuttered, his voice urgent.

She hummed. "Mhm, we'll see. Under one condition though."

"What?" He raised his head, his nose bumping against hers.

She ran a finger over his full bottom lip. "You'll have to sing for me then."

[avatarmerida]

Short little late night huntlow drabble about two losers who are also nerds

---

“The briefing shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Hunter assured, giving Willow one final hug before following Gus and heading to the airship. He blamed his late departure on him “forgetting” supplies, but his empty hands easily proved he wanted to fill them with nothing else but her.

“I know you will.” said Willow,her arms anchored tightly around his neck. She knew everyone was staring, she didn’t care. She had been through too much to risk another incomplete goodbye. She slowly released her hold on him to see him better and she knew he shared her sentiment, but as much as they wanted to there was little else they could do to prolong their farewell .”Take your time.” She said quietly as she stepped back so he could get going. He nodded and turned to leave for real this time. 

As she watched him walk away, Willow’s heart felt as though it was overfilling. She took a deep breath as she let the contents pour out, summoning a bold voice for them to travel on before he got too far away. “‘Take the stars if you need to, I won’t want to see them anyway if I have to see them alone.’”

Hunter stopped in his tracks. With a look of disbelief he slowly turned back around to Willow, who offered him a shy smile.

“W-what did you say?”

“‘Even if you don’t take them, I won’t know the difference.’” She continued. “‘The brightest thing in my world will be missing so the sky would be dark regardless.”

Hunter hasped. “Are you quoting-?”

“Book 3, chapter 15.” Willow eagerly replied before he could finish the question.

“B-but how? I thought-.”

“I uh, read ahead so when you finished the series I could surprise you and we could talk about it right away.” she replied, tucking her hair behind her ear, slightly nervous for some reason. 

“And you memorized Ivy’s goodbye to O’Bailey?” Hunter asked with a gulp, his voice light and shaky as he took a step closer to her. He looked at her with utter astonishment. 

She nodded. “It was one of my favorite parts.” She said sweetly, taking a step to him. “Especially the next part.”

“Right,” Hunter whispered, his eyes locked on the wonderful plant witch, always full of wonderful surprises. It took a moment before he caught on, seeing her prompting him. he words came naturally to him for numerous reasons, helping him say what he could not compose himself as he brought forth a bold voice of his own as he walked closer to her. “Oh! Oh, yeah uh…’You would entrust me with the stars?’”

“‘I would entrust with my very heart, Chief O’Bailey,’” Willow responded with the next line.

“‘Oh, but you’ll need it, won’t you?’” Hunter went on in character. “‘Perhaps you can use mine since I’ll be leaving it here, as it belongs with you beneath the stars.”

“‘Knowing you are among them will be enough for me to keep them in my sights,” said Willow, taking another step so he was close enough to touch again. “‘The stars cover a wide range, they can keep our hearts connected,’”.

Hunter sighed and they reached the end of the chapter’s dialogue. “I can’t believe he just leaves after that though,” he said, almost upset. “Like… that was totally a confession, right? And he doesn’t realize it? I know I should go now but I always get mad at that part because clearly Ivy was waiting for him to-.”

“Oh she was, she definitely was.” Willow replied with utter confidence. “But I think he was just overwhelmed by everything and he didn’t realize it.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Said Hunter, who wanted nothing more than to talk about Cosmic Frontier with his favorite person and could not bring himself to leave. “But I can’t help but feel like he missed his chance. I only have one chapter left and they haven’t reunited yet and I really need to know if they-.”

“Well, I can tell you.” Willow offered with a twinkle in her eye. “If you want.”

“You know how I feel about spoilers,” Hunter said with a lopsided smile. “Ugh, I can’t wait to talk about this with you! I can’t believe I had no idea you were reading ahead this whole time!”

“Yeah, I uh stole the books while you were asleep,” Willow admitted, twirling her braid. “I knew they were important to you and you’re important to me, so…”

“What was your favorite part?” Hunter asked excitedly, taking her hands in his as he suppressed the desire to jump up and down with joy.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think you’ve gotten that far yet,” Willow smiled, her favorite part being right at the end, when they were reunited. “And I know how you feel about spoilers.”

“Fair enough.” Hunter said with a fond sigh. “When things calm down, I wanna hear all your theories! What do you think about Ivy and O’Bailey? Did you like the ending? Wait wait, don’t tell me! I don’t wanna know what happens!”

Willow giggled. “Fine I won’t tell you what happens,” she said as she leaned forward and rose to her tiptoes, placing one hand on Hunter’s shoulder for balance as she gently placed her lips the one the side of his face right by the corner of his mouth. She lingered there a moment, and heard him sharply inhale to hold his breath. She smiled as she hovered by his ear to whisper. “But I did really like the ending.”

He squeaked as she returned to her place in front of him and gave him her signature wink which sent a chill up his spine. “Was that-? Does that mean-? A-are you-?” Hunter wasn’t sure what question to ask, his face a mixture of stun and delight. It was a farewell Willow was satisfied with, knowing he had extra determination to return safely. He needed to find out exactly how much she was quoting. 

“We can talk about your theories when you get back.” 

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

oohh dreamy with simeon?? i love your writing sm

Simeon - Dreamy

Simeon x GN! reader

Prompt: Seeing their soulmate’s dreams or being able to communicate with them in their dreams.

AN: Awwe, thank you sm! <3 I hope you enjoy this one, Anon!

Warnings: None

“Won’t you please tell me your name?” Simeon’s voice calls out softly, almost as if he was afraid of frightening off whoever he was speaking to.

A disembodied laugh ghosts the vast, bright emptiness surrounding him. If this were real, goosebumps would’ve decorated his beautiful melanin skin. 

“I wish I could. But when I’m with you… I can’t seem to recall my own name.”

It’s strange, but somehow he knows exactly what you mean. There’s a feeling of oneness. When you both meet there is no separation that lies between your consciences. Where one starts, the other ends. Melding together as one with no regard to the physical limitations. 

It’s hard to remember things about himself too when he’s so immersed in your expansive presence.

“But one day, I’ll tell you. I promise on the day that we physically meet I’ll tell you everything you want to know and more.” 

-

The sunshine fills Simeon’s room with a warm glow as he blinks away the grogginess from his eyes, moving to sit up in his bed. The sound of his sheer white curtains flapping in the soft breeze catches the attention of his not quite functioning state of mind. 

He watches as the fabric flutters, casting two silhouettes to dance around his room in a perfect push and pull motion. He muses at how the shadows merge into one another- individual, but working together to create something so much greater. Like yin and yang, the sun and the moon. 

It’s not unlike what he experiences in his dreams every night. 

Though thinking back to the night before, his eyebrows knit in confusion. He didn’t leave the window open… 

“Good morning, Simeon!” 

Jumping a little, he turns to look at the smaller angel standing next to his bed.

“Ah, good morning, Luke. You startled me.”  

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Simeon laughed, waving him off. “It’s alright. How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I came in earlier to see if you were awake yet. You weren’t, so I thought opening the curtains and window would help wake you up.” 

Ah, that explains it. 

“But I made breakfast in the meantime!” A sweet aroma fills the older angel's nose as Luke holds up a plate of thick pancakes topped with more syrup than is necessary, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries, and a little swirl of whipped cream in the center. 

“Wow, Luke. This looks quite delicious.” Trying not to spill any of the contents, Simeon gently takes the plate from Luke. 

“Thank you! I figured we should have a good breakfast before heading down to the Devildom. Who knows when we’ll have a decent meal next.” 

“Oh, come now.” Simeon started, stabbing his fork into the pillowy cakes and scooping up a blueberry. 

“I’m serious, Simeon! Demons eat weird things and I will not be taking part in it. Thank-you-very-much.” Luke punctuated. 

The older angel giggled, chewing a mouth full of food. 

“Give the Devildom a chance, you might just find something you like about it.” He took another bite savoring all the wonderful flavors that melded together on his tongue. Luke was getting better in the kitchen everyday. 

“My compliments to the chef. This is really good, Luke.” He commented, pointing his fork to the plate for emphasis. 

The smaller angel smiled, a blush dusting his cheeks. “Thanks… Well, I’ll let you eat. I have to finish packing and saying my farewells. I’ll see you later, Simeon!” 

With that, he promptly turned and left, leaving Simeon alone with his thoughts and the pancakes… 

-

It had been a week after arriving to the Devildom and night after night Simeon was plagued with dreamless sleeps. The strange aura he’d come to cherish and listen to every night without fail was no longer there to greet him. Where he used to be enveloped by comfort, he now only felt emptiness. 

But Simeon had a duty to uphold as one of the Celestial realm representatives. And since today was the start of the first semester, he needed to keep his head in the game. 

The morning had gone smoothly. Breakfast was simple, but good. He and Luke had a nice stroll to campus and they navigated the halls fairly well. Arriving to their first class, he noticed a few of the demon brothers congregating around the human exchange student they had yet to meet. 

“Come on, Luke. Let’s go introduce ourselves.” Simeon motioned. The younger angel nodded and they both made their way over to you. 

Stopping a couple steps behind the brothers so as to not interrupt the current conversation, he couldn’t help but overhear you speaking. And he couldn’t bring himself to stop from listening either. 

What you were saying wasn’t important- he just needed you to keep speaking. 

Your face may be unfamiliar and not one that Simeon recognizes, but your voice has spoken to him more times than he could count. It reminded him of a warm, fuzzy blanket from the dryer on a rainy day. It was the comfort he so wished to hear every night this past week. You were the infinity that he was destined too. His beginning and his end.

You noticed him staring at you between the shoulders of the brothers, so you gently pushed them aside to say hello, but Simeon beat you to it. 

“Won’t you please tell me your name?” He spoke softly.

Your eyes slowly widened as the pieces clicked and Simeon rejoiced internally. You recognized him too... And you laughed.  

“Of course. After all, I made you a promise.”

[tropes-and-tales]

Never Leave a Man Behind

December 20:  Merry/Explore - Save me from a bad date (Horacio Carrillo x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Slight angst; fluff; an offhand comment about the fetishization of Latin men; lots of typos

Word Count:  2556

AN:  Requested by one anon, clarified by a second anon!

It’s all a misunderstanding, which is out of character for Horacio.  He never misunderstands anything, ever.

And yet, this is a misunderstanding:  the woman at the U.S. embassy who worked with him the past few months, set up different meetings with high-level officials with the incoming Clinton administration.  Jessica, her name is.  A single time, early on, Horacio pronounced the “J” in her name like an “H,” and she had cooed over it.  He had only been tired after long days and sleepless nights, his crisp English a little mushy, but Jessica thought he was flirting.

A series of similar missteps, paired with Horacio (being polite) and Jessica (being aggressive), leads to this—a date in Bogotá.  Javier thought it was hilarious; he threw his head back and laughed long and hard at the situation.

“Be careful, Colonel,” he had finally said.  “Jessica has a reputation for being a man-eater with the locals.”

Horacio is reluctant despite being single for over a year, but he can’t think of a plausible, polite reason to cancel.  The best he can manage is that he’s only in Bogotá for the night and can brush off future dates once he’s safe in Medellín.

So he endures.  He meets Jessica at the restaurant, and he tries so hard to be a gentleman without leading her on further.  It’s futile, though:  every single thing he says and does seems to elicit a giggle, a fluttering of eyelashes, coy glances across the table.

Javier wasn’t wrong, Horacio realizes far too late.  She is a man-eater, as he called her, and while Horacio enjoys assuredness in a woman, he doesn’t like the blatant aggression at all.  He hates how she sits in her seat so that her cleavage is on full display.  He hates the drawn-out innuendos, the double-meaning, the flirting that is almost straight-up propositioning.

“Where are you staying tonight?” Jessica coos, but their waiter steps over to their table and interrupts before he can answer.

“Colonel Carrillo?” he asks.  “You have a call, sir.  Urgent.”

He stands, murmurs his apology, and follows the waiter to the back of the restaurant.  The phone is off its cradle, and he picks it up.

“Carrillo?  How’s it going?” Javier asks, and Horacio swears he can hear the glee in the man’s voice.

He glances over his shoulder to where Jessica sits.  She’s pushy, flirty to a psychotic degree.  He has the distinct impression that she has a fetish for Latin men too, given how many times she pouts at his lack of accent when he speaks English.  And how she said he had an “exotic” handsomeness.

“Poorly,” he tells Javier.

“Well, we can send in a rescue unit if you want.”

“Pardon?”

“We never leave a man behind,” Javier clarifies.  “You want an easy out from this date?”

Horacio has no idea what the agent is getting at, but he casts another glance back at Jessica, and he replies with a fervent, “yes, please.”

-----

He only gets back to the table and gets another couple of bites of food before there’s a flurry of activity near the door.  He catches a glimpse of you over Jessica’s shoulder, and then you’re there, standing over them, a panicked look on your face.

“Colonel.”  You nod at Jessica, catch your breath.  “Sorry to interrupt.”

You turn back to him.  “Sorry, Colonel.  I hate to interrupt, but there’s an emergency.  We need to go, now.  I need to get you back to Medellín—”

“Oh no!” Jessica interrupts.  “What’s the emergency?”

You glance at her.  “Escobar,” you say, your eyes wide and your voice full of dread, and for a second even Horacio believes you.

-----

The ride to the airstrip is quiet.  Uncomfortably so.

Normally you talk to him.  You help coordinate intel with other international agencies, so you’re in his peripherals all the time, always working with him and Steve and Javier.  And you’re friendly, polite.  Chatty, in moments like this.

Usually.  Now you’ve gone almost-mute.  You’re monosyllabic with him.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” he says.

“Sure.”

Then you shift violently, from second to third gear, the Jeep lurching along the road.  You’re also a good driver.  Usually.

“I suppose Peña called you.”

“Yup.”

“Was it…”  He trails off, his words drying up in the face of your stony near-silence.  “Was it hard to find the restaurant?”

“Nope.”

By then, he can see the air control tower in the distance, so he wisely keeps his mouth shut and sits quietly, puzzling out why you seem so coldly angry.

On the plane back to Medellín, you don’t sit with him or Javier or Steve.  You let the three of them sit as a trio, and you take a seat apart.  Aside from a few words you trade with your fellow Americans, you’re quiet on the flight back too.

-----

There is a war being waged against Escobar, so Horacio can’t give it much attention until weeks later.  You’ve softened towards him the slightest bit, but the easy rapport he used to have with you seems to be gone.

He asks Javier and Steve.  The former shrugs and shifts his eyes away, and the latter gives up your secret immediately.

“She likes you.  Or liked you.  I think it hurt her feelings, you asking Jessica out.”

“I didn’t ask—”  He stops, processes the first part of Steve’s statement.  “Wait, what?”

At that, Javier makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Horacio catches the man shaking his head.  Steve catches the motion but shrugs at his partner.

“What?  She never told me.  She and Connie are friends.  Women talk.  I overheard ‘em.”

“She’s gonna murder you when she finds out,” Javier warns him.  

Steve waves him off.  “It’s fine.���

“She’s friendly with that scary asshole, that colonel in Ecuador.  She’ll make you disappear.”

Horacio opens his mouth to steer the conversation away from Steve’s eventual kidnapping and murder, but you walk into the bullpen and the words die off immediately.

The way your eyes rove between the three of them, taking in their faces (guilty, exasperated, and perplexed), it’s obvious that you piece together what just happened.  You settle your gaze on Steve, and you narrow your eyes into slits as you glare at him.

-----

Neither of you live in a telenovela, so it doesn’t become an awkward thing.  You like (or liked) him; he found out.  For a month, those facts sit between the two of you.  Maybe he’d address it, but narcos activity has turned frenetic, and neither of you have time to breathe, let alone sit and have a cozy chat about feelings.

The two of you pass each other like ships in the night for that month.  He’s all over Colombia, chasing ghosts.  You’re in Medellín, in Bogotá, in Quito and Barranquilla and Caracas and San Miguelito—all over the continent, helping the cause by keeping boarders loose for him and his men, by gathering intel and sharing your own selectively.

He sees you late one night.  You’re at your desk, lonely in your little pool of light in the otherwise empty office.  You look rumpled, exhausted, but you type away at your reports without any sign of stopping.

He walks over to you.  “You should go home,” he says.  “Get some sleep.”

“Soon.”  You pause your typing, glance up at him.  “You should go home.”

“Soon.”  A beat.  “I can wait for you.  Follow you out.”

You smile at him, the first one he’s gotten since that baffling night in Bogotá.  

“I’ll be fine, Colonel.  But thank you for the offer.”

-----

Finally, things calm with Escobar.  The violence simmers instead of boils.  Horacio can take a breath, finally.

After he gets his paperwork in order, he looks out of his office windows into the bullpen.  You’re at your desk, on the phone, talking rapidly to someone.  He can guess by the wild gesturing of your free hands, the receiver tucked between your ear and shoulder, that you’re speaking in Spanish.  You use your hands when you do, which he finds charming.

He’s thought of you, this past month.  In the quiet moments when he could, he turned you over and over in his mind. Considered you.  He’s always liked you, always felt you were a conscientious worker, a good teammate, an American considerate to your place in another country.

He just never asked you out.  Why would he?  Dating was the furthest thing from his mind, until Jessica and Bogotá.  He had only stumbled back into the dating world because of a misunderstanding.

He knows, but he can’t think of how he’d ever convince you—if he had been more proactive about re-entering the dating world, of course he would have asked you first.  

-----

He presents dinner as a thank you.  He doesn’t present it as a date because he thinks you’d turn him down out of principle.

He presents it as a multi-faceted thank you.  Thank you for all of the hard work you do.  Thank you for keeping relations friendly with our neighboring countries.  Thank you for leaving the States to come help him catch or kill Escobar.  

Thank you for rescuing him from Jessica, though he keeps that one to himself.

“It’s just my job, Colonel.”  You blink at him in confusion, eyebrows knit together.

“Yes, but your job is thankless.”

“Okay,” you finally say after staring at him for a moment.  “I guess that sounds nice.”

“Saturday?”

“Okay.”

-----

You don’t dress up for it beyond a slightly nicer shirt and the barest bit of makeup.  A message, he assumes, of you saying I know this isn’t a date.  I know this is just a meal between acquaintances.

He picks you up at your apartment, and you settle into the passenger’s seat as he turns onto the road.

“Where are we going?”

He glances at you.  “I thought we could drive until we find something.”

“Seriously?”

“You told me, remember?  How you liked to just drive around, explore new places.”

You turn in your seat and smile at him.  “You remember that?”

“Of course.  You said something like, ‘getting lost is a good way to find something new.’”

You groan, turn back in your seat.  “Ugh, it sounds like a fortune cookie fortune.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good sentiment.”  He comes to a stop, eases on the brakes.  “So, left, right, or straight?”

You turn again, smile at him again.  “You’re serious?”

A car horn blares from behind.  “I need a direction, agent.”

“Straight, then, Colonel.”

It goes on for an hour and then some, him driving,  you giving arbitrary directions.  And it works as an ice-breaker, he realizes.  Medellín is where you’re based, but you are oftentimes away.  You don’t know the city or area very well.  He guesses that you’re enjoying it by how eagerly you sit forward in your seat, how you chatter away as he tells you about the landmarks you pass.

He should have done this before.  He allows himself some grace, though—he hadn’t thought himself ready or free to date, and he never had an inkling that you liked him.

A captive audience in his car and now twenty minutes into the surrounding countryside, Horacio tells you so.  You try to interrupt once, early on, but he shushes you gently and asks for you to just listen.  You do.

He tells you about his divorce, how his job wrought chaos and havoc on his marriage.  How he had written off dating, but that he liked you—does like you, present tense—and he hated how that night in Bogotá went down.

Simple, straightforward.  No vagaries or innuendos.

“Then why did you agree to a date with Jessica from the embassy?” you finally ask.  “If you weren’t ready…”

He glances at you, shrugs in embarrassment.  “She cornered me.  I didn’t know how to get out of it.”

You stare back at him for a second, then burst into laughter, a sound so merry he chuckles along too.  

“You face down narcos every day of your life,” you wheeze between gales of laughter.  “And she’s what undoes you?”

“She didn’t undo me.”  There’s a defensive edge to his voice underneath the smile.  “She did nothing to me.”

“Other than trap you in a date.”

“She’s part of the transition team between administrations…”

You laugh again, then swipe at the tears that have crept to the corner of your eyes.  “Tough Colonel Carrillo.  He can march into Escobar’s neighborhood and wage war, but he can’t escape Jessica with her press-on nails and fetish for Latin lovers.”

Another glance at you, this time in surprise.  “You knew about that?”

“Well, sure.  Why did you think I was mad?”

“I thought you were mad because I was on a date with her and not you,” he admits, and you nod.  Then you turn your head and stare at the scenery out of the window so he can only see a bit of your reflection in the glass.

“Sure, but I was just disappointed.  I thought you liked her, but I knew she only wanted you for her tall, dark, and handsome deal.  Which yes, okay, sure.  Obviously.  But it seemed like she was missing the best parts.”

It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s said to Horacio in a long time.  Quiet, unassuming…and unexpectedly sweet.  He clears his throat and tells you so.  

“Well…”  You lift your hands in a helpless gesture, drop them back in your lap.  “It’s true.”

“I would have…”  He trails off, clears his throat again.  “I would have asked you out, if I had known.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.  Steve shouldn’t have—”

He interrupts you by reaching over, tapping your knee lightly with his finger.  “No,” he clarifies.  “I would have asked you out, if I had known I was ready.  I hadn’t realized.”

He looks over at you, sees the gaped-mouth way you’re staring at him.  That’s charming too, he decides, how the most assured woman he’s ever known with her skills of tact and persuasion and diplomacy can be flummoxed by such a simple admission.

“I’m getting hungry,” he says.  “You ready to eat?  I know of a place nearby.”

“…sure.”

He turns to the left at the next intersection.  “You can tell me over dinner how yes, I am obviously tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Oh, so you’re going to be all big-headed about it, then?”  He can hear the teasing in your voice, and he’s relieved by it.  Happy to be on the other side of this awkward beginning.

“Of course.  But only for the first date.”

“Assuming there is a second date.”

“Oh, there will be.  Talk, dark, and handsome got me the first one, but once I drop my accent on you, it’s all over, cariño.”  He draws out the term of endearment, rolls his ‘r’ elaborately like a bad stage actor.

It pulls another laugh from you.  Another chuckle from him to hear you so happy after long weeks of misery and exhaustion.

“You got the wrong American for that, Horacio,” you tell him, and his heart stutters in his chest as the sound of his first name in your mouth.

“No, I think I have the right one,” he replies, his smooth assuredness back in hand.  “Finally.”

[feralkwe]

"why did you help me?" or "do you remember anything at all?" for the prompts. looks intently at elidibus. :)

FINE. I GUESS THIS IS MY LIFE NOW.

I did "Do you remember anything at all?" already. So here you go. I guess I'll write another thing that may or may not have happened. WHATEVER. I'M FINE.

Were he more than a shade, a fragment of who he once was, Kit imagined that Elidibus’ face would have been one of awe as he looked upon the Elpis bloom in her hand. Nearly formless and incomplete as he was, he still exuded surprise. Confusion. Even now the full of his memories seemed to elude him.

“Elpis,” he said, more to himself than to her. He turned his head so that the vacant holes of his red mask bored into her. “But not as a flower. As a place.”

Relief flooded her. Finally, a possible answer. A lead, as flimsy as it was. She watched him a moment, always diminutive in her memories, but somehow much smaller here in the Umbilicus. “What can you tell me about it?” Funny, almost, that she should be here now, begging his help when it was her own hand which put him here. Which had ended his long life.

He was quiet a moment, a serenity about him she’d never seen before. His posture, his manner, everything about him at odds with the Ascian she’d known. “Little,” he said finally. He stilled, going quiet.

Her hopes fell, the realization that maybe this was finally the one fight she could not win chilling her. After all this time, when the world needed her the most, she had exhausted every means and ever end trying to find an answer to the End of Days. Turning to Elidibus had been a long shot, the desperate act of a desperate hero, the abandoned champion who feared she would finally fail.

“Oh.” She swallowed, her throat closing as the doom and despair of what lay ahead crept over her.

“I remember… you were there. In Elpis… but…” His hooded head turned, as if the answer to fill in the blanks of his memories lay over her shoulder in the distance. His tiny hands clutched at his head, pain coloring his words. “An impossibility… and yet…”

Her shoulders slumped. Again, he was lost in confusion. Seeing someone she was not and convinced they were one and the same. Her fingers came to rest lightly at her lips as the Umbilicus, the Ocular in its entirety felt much too small to hold all the memories of all that had passed between them.

“I am able to do better,” he said. Eager. Earnest. As if sensing her growing dread, his voice dropped to a comforting tone. “I can show you Elpis. Perhaps the path to the salvation you seek picks up there.”

Perhaps. Maybe it was not the answer, but hopefully a piece of connective tissue that might take her from facing the end of the world to finding its cause, and thus, the key to saving it.

The how of it she did not fully understand. A trip through time, to a place long forgotten. She only barely understood the powers wielded by Ascians, and certainly why, if they could send someone through time, they did not do so for themselves to accomplish their goals. How any of what he suggested was possible, she did not know. Maybe Urianger or Y’shtola could make sense of it, but not her. Instead, she had to trust Elidibus at his word. That, defeated though he was, his duty was still to the star, and she the best bet to see it through. She watched, silent as he did what was necessary to prepare the way to send her forth into the past.

He followed her back to the Ocular where the far wall, the one through which the Exarch had watched over the people of the First, hummed low and glowed softly. Kit approached it, raising a hand to the portal, unable to deny that some part of her was thrilled at the opportunity to go where none other could. She paused before stepping through, a heaviness in her heart stalling her. She turned, letting her eyes rest upon the shade of Elidibus, gleaming with light in his white robes, his face but a spot of red and vacant eyes. She frowned, unsure what to say, unsure why grief began to well in her.

“Why do you look at me so forlorn? I told you this will be my final act, did I not?” Not sad, not angry. Just a statement of fact.

Her lips moved as she looked for something fitting to say to him, after everything which had happened between them. The ways he lied and manipulated and attempted to end her existence. The ways he’d riddled her with confusion and tormented her with a kiss meant for another. The way she’d ended his life and reduced him to this approximation of who he might have once been. The way that now, at the end of it all, he showed her kindness.

“Why did you help me?” she asked when no other words would come.

His head tilted, the vacant holes of his mask meeting her eyes. Expressionless though it was, she could feel some grand emotion in that look, the weight of it resting on her shoulders. She rolled them back and stood straighter to hold it up. For him. It was the least she could do.

“I told you why.” He looked down at his hands for a moment, then returned to watching her. “Once, we were in love. I cannot fully recall how, but this I cannot deny. Much else might be lost, but this truth remains.”

“Elidibus,” she said, soft, reverent. A lamentation that even now he did not know what was real and what was not. A simple fact which meant she inflicted yet more pain upon him.

“You will do what I could not,” he said. “There is much I cannot recall, but I know this to be true: there is no one like you. The hopes of the star rest now with you, and you will always do what must be done.”

Tears wet her eyes. “Goodbye, Elidibus.”

“Goodbye, Kit.”