#(this is vague but I can’t bring myself to talk about it fully yet !:

[hobisexually]

x

[dragonflylady77]

Mr Steve and the Monster Hunter

Here is it! The last chapter of my fic for @bigbangharringrove

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Ao3

Steve has a lot of things to say

Chapter 6 - I'm all in

Steve is finally holding Billy in his arms and he doesn’t want to let go. He’s not sure where this urge is coming from but it’s all encompassing and he is not questioning it. His gut is telling him he is where he is supposed to be, and well, his gut has yet to steer him wrong. 

Strangely for someone who just spent a week in a coma, he is exhausted and very sleepy. He has no idea what time it is. Daylight is still coming through the open window but he vaguely remembers reading somewhere that the sun sets at different times in different parts of the country and he’s never been to California before.

Billy didn’t say anything when Steve told him he’d missed him, instead he gently wrapped his arms around Steve, careful of his injuries and various bandages. Steve knows he needs to explain, even if his brain still feels a bit scrambled.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Steve lets out a short laugh that makes his chest sting a bit. He brings his hand back up to play with Billy’s hair. “How can I miss someone I barely knew? But I did, Billy. Somehow, I really did. And then… then you were there, alive, somehow even better looking than I remembered, and so fucking full of life… Of course I jumped when you offered to answer my questions.”

“Not like I got the chance to do much of that,” Billy mumbles and Steve can feel his breath on his chest. It feels nice and he wishes they were wearing less clothes and weren’t on a narrow hospital bed so he could feel it more. 

Still, he can’t let Billy feel bad for running off when Eleven reached out for help. 

“Well that is hardly your fault, is it? Just like what happened to me isn’t your fault.”

Billy sits up at that and pierces Steve with a thunderous look. He looks fierce, and hot as sin, and Steve wants to trace that scar on his cheek with his finger… or his lips. His brain and his heart seem to be fully on board with that plan.

“Billy…” Steve starts, reaching out to take Billy’s hand again, happy when Billy lets him..

“No, Steve.” Billy runs his free hand through his hair with a sigh. “I know better. The rules are there for a reason and I shouldn’t have let you come with us. It was my mission. I knew the risks and—fuck!” Billy looks straight at Steve then, his eyes wet with tears and Steve feels something squeeze his heart at the sight.

“Steve, you nearly died because of me. Because I let my feelings get in the way.”

“Billy…”

“I can’t… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” The chuckle Billy lets out is rough and raw. “I'm lucky Max hasn't come after me yet. I keep expecting her to come at me with Cindy to try and detach my head from my body.”

Steve was confused. “Who's Cindy?”

“My ax.”

“Okay...” Steve is sure Billy had a good reason to name his ax Cindy but it’s not relevant at this point. They can talk weapon names later. Steve is so going to ask for a tour of HellGrove when he’s no longer stuck in a hospital bed.

“Hey.” Steve links his fingers with Billy’s. “Forget about Max. And the rules. It’s like Robin said. I’m here. I’m alive.”

“You know, I did wonder how much of that private conversation you heard.”

Steve watches as a pink blush blooms on Billy’s cheeks and it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“Let’s just say I heard Olivia ask you a question and I noticed you didn’t actually answer said question.”

“Jesus, Harrington. Don’t pull punches on my account.”

“You gonna tell me, Hargrove?” If Billy is gonna go back to last names, instead of his usual pet names, Steve is gonna follow suit. It brings back memories of high school posturing and what Steve can now see was Billy pulling his metaphorical pigtails at a time where being queer could get one in a lot of trouble, or worse. One glance shows Steve that Billy is still blushing and the neckline of his HellGrove tee stops Steve from seeing how far down it goes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Billy says and Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

Steve sits up, not paying attention to the slight sting on his chest when he does, damn bandages pulling on his chest hair, as he drags Billy to him by his hand, putting his other hand on the back of Billy’s neck to hold him there.

“Billy, the day after I found out you were alive, I went to see Robin and Heather so Robin could answer some of my questions.”

“I bet you had a few,” Billy chuckles softly.

“Hoo boy, yes I did. Then I even had questions about things I found out that day. About you. About Olivia. Then Robin said you were on your way back and I, um, I kinda freaked out.”

“Why? Steve, I’m not—”

“Oh, um, well, turns out I’m not very good at hiding things from Robin, and she said I definitely needed to have a chat with you or I would regret it.”

The laughter that peels out of Billy surprises them both. Steve thinks he looks so beautiful and happy. 

“That’s your first mistake, pretty boy,” Billy says. “You, of all people, should know you can’t hide things from Robin. She always finds out. And if she doesn’t, Heather does.”

“Heather scares me.”

“Oh my god.” Billy is still laughing and Steve wants to keep making him.

“She is fiercely protective of you and I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Oh. yeah, um, about that…” Billy suddenly looks embarrassed and it’s not what Steve wants. At all.

“I, um, I’d like to change that.” He smiles. “Billy, I know it might seem sudden, since I only found out about you a week ago, but…” Steve stops and looks down at their fingers. Considering what Steve heard of Billy’s chat with Robin in the hallway, he doesn’t think it’s too much of a gamble that Billy will react favorably. Still, he’s been surprised before so it’s always better to make sure.

“But?”

“I had a dream about you the night we met again,” Steve says, before he pulls Billy closer. “A very detailed, very private, kind of dream,” he whispers, his mouth so close to Billy’s he can feel his breath. 

“Oh, did you now?” Billy whispers back and their lips are pretty much touching now and Billy’s hands are holding his face and Steve closes his eyes and he nods and then Billy is kissing him and Steve can’t think beyond ‘BillyBillyBillyBillyBilly’. 

The kiss feels like everything he didn’t know he wanted and more. Steve feels Billy’s tongue trace the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth and the kiss gets better. Billy is kissing him like he’s something precious, all slow and slick, and it makes Steve moan and once again wish they weren’t on a narrow hospital bed.

Too soon, Billy pulls back. He licks his lips and Steve feels his body shudder at the sight. He definitely wants more of that. Everywhere.

Billy chuckles and Steve realizes he may have said that out loud. He shrugs, then winces because the movement pulls on the bandages and Billy gives him a worried look.

“I’m okay. I wonder when they’ll let me go home. Or, you know, get out of here.”

“What did the doctor say earlier?”

Steve doesn’t ask how Billy knows the doctor came to see him, the guy kinda owns the building after all. “He said they need to run some more tests but I should be allowed out in a couple of days.”

“That’s good.”

Something important suddenly clicks when Steve hears himself talk about going home. “Oh God. Billy, I've been missing work for over a week. How am I going to tell my boss I am suddenly in California?”

“Oh, Max sorted that out for you. You'll have to ask her. When the doctor gives the okay, I'll portal you back to your house and you can, um, you know, go back to your life.”

“That's the second time you've said that to me,” Steve notes, not liking the way Billy is now looking at some point over Steve's shoulder, like he was distancing himself from Steve.

“Is it?” Billy sits back, his hands dropping to the bed. 

“Uh huh.” Steve picks Billy's hand again and makes eye contact, locking gaze with Billy. “Billy, I…” Steve smiles. “I don't want to go back to not knowing. I love teaching, don't get me wrong, but I can do that anywhere. But this?” Steve gestures between himself and Billy. “This is way too important. You are too important.”

“Steve…” Billy looks away and tries to get his hand back but Steve holds fast.

“No, I missed my chance in high school because things got fucked up and I didn’t realise it until it was way too late. But now that I know you’re alive? Now that I understand what the things I am feeling really mean? There is no fucking way I’m going back to what I had before.”

“What’s that?” Billy asks, his tone bitter and sad. “A quiet life without monsters? A safe job in a nice school? School moms fawning over you day in and day out? What’s so bad about that life, Steve?”

“Well, for one, if you’re not there with me, I don’t want it.”

“You can’t mean that.” The dejection comes through clearly in Billy’s resigned tone. Steve wonders what happened to Billy to make him believe he doesn’t deserve this and more. He makes a quick promise to himself to spend the rest of his life showing Billy how cherished he is.

“I can, and I do.” He grins at the man he loves, because, yes, there is no other word to explain the warmth filling his chest when he looks at Billy. “It will come to no surprise to you that your daughter isn’t the only one who’s been eavesdropping, not that you and Robin were particularly quiet in the doorway before. Billy, holding you, kissing you, it feels like the last piece of the puzzle finally slotted into place.”

Steve notices the tears rolling down Billy’s cheeks and he can feel his face is wet as well, but he presses on. “You can have this. Have me. I want you to know that I’m all in. If that’s what you want.”

The longing in Billy’s eyes threatens to undo Steve completely and Steve can’t take it anymore. He pulls Billy back to him, once again ignoring the sting on his chest at the movement, and brings their mouths together.

Billy lets out a moan and melts against him. This time Billy ends up on top of Steve, obliterating Steve’s ability to form thoughts beyond ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod!’ and there is nothing Steve would change about that. 

Not even when the nurse rushes in to check on the screeching monitor because Steve’s heart rate is going through the roof.

***

The feeling of a cold arm around his waist pulls Steve from his slumber, the cold chest against his back waking him up a bit more. He shivers when its owner pulls him closer, their legs tangling together.

“Fuck, your feet are freezing!” Steve exclaims sleepily, attempting to move away, but Billy wraps his limbs around him like an overly amorous octopus.

“Sorry, baby. Livi went to the bathroom and got scared of the dark once she woke up fully. We really need to get those nightlights we’ve been talking about to put in the hallway,” Billy says, his lips kissing a trail along Steve’s bare shoulder.

“Mmmm, good idea,” Steve replies, barely listening because the kisses feel too nice. When Billy nibbles on the crook of his neck, Steve lets out a soft moan and, damn, he wants more. He turns around in Billy’s arms, spreadings both hands on Billy’s chest, the tips of his fingers finding the familiar grooves of the scars covering the hard muscles.

Steve moves a hand up to bury in Billy’s hair, the golden curls longer now than they were a year ago, and pulls lightly. He finds Billy’s lips in the dark and licks into his mouth, swallowing Billy’s needy grunt. Steve starts a slow grind against the thigh Billy slotted between his legs as the kiss gets sloppy. 

He lets out a loud groan when he feels Billy’s hardening cock against his. Billy squeezes his ass in warning.

“Shhhh, Stevie, not so loud, you’ll wake the baby,” Billy whispers as he ends the kiss to nip at Steve’s jaw.

Steve bites his lip to stop the whimpers as Billy moves to his neck, licking the spot he knows full well makes Steve melt. “Billy, baby, you’re really not helping,” Steve bites out, trying to stay quiet when Billy pushes him onto his back and straddles him. “Fuck…”

Billy’s throaty chuckle against his ear hits Steve right in the dick. “That’s the idea, pretty boy.” He punctuates that with another nibble on his neck and a hard grind of his hips.

Steve grabs Billy’s thighs with both hands and digs his fingers in. “Billy!” he warns with an urgent whisper, knowing full well it will only spur Billy on. Billy rolls his hips again, making Steve gasp.

“You fucker!”

“Aww, baby, don’t be like that,” Billy says against Steve’s collarbone as he sucks a hickey Steve knows he will need to hide under a high-collared shirt tomorrow. “You know I’ll make you feel good,” Billy adds, hands snaking between them, fingers tangling in the thick mat of Steve’s chest hair.

Steve knows what’s coming and he is powerless to stop it. Billy pulls and Steve’s hips arch off the bed, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip in a mammoth effort to stay quiet. Steve knows exactly what look Billy is giving him right now even if it’s too dark to actually see it. That look that says he’s proud of himself but only getting started…

“Billy, please…” Steve isn’t sure what he’s asking for, but if the past year loving this man has taught him anything, it’s that Billy will deliver.

“I got you.” Billy gets off of him then and Steve feels the loss of his weight on him keenly.

A shudder goes through Steve when he feels Billy’s hands on his hips, sliding in towards his crotch, and he spreads his legs to accommodate his boyfriend. He bites down on a moan when Billy settles between his thighs. 

“Shhhh,” Billy whispers as he mouths Steve’s hard dick over his pants and Steve slams a pillow over his face because there’s no way he can stay quiet, especially not when Billy reaches under the waistband of his pajama pants, his fingers extracting Steve’s dick and giving it a squeeze.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Steve whispers, panting already, and trying—really trying—to make as little noise as possible. 

When Billy licks a stripe from root to tip, Steve’s free hand grabs the bedding next to him, clutching the sheet with desperate fingers. 

When Billy sucks on the head of his cock, Steve’s breath stutters, then his entire body bows from the effort to stay quiet when Billy takes him all the way down.

It’s too much, too wet, too tight, too warm, too good, and Steve knows he’s not gonna last very long, not with the way Billy is going to town on his dick from the word go. Steve wishes there was more light in the room so he could watch because it’s a sight he never tires from.

He feels Billy’s fingers leave his hip and slide inward, brushing past his balls, then further south. The moment Billy’s fingertips touch his rim, it’s all over. The fingers digging into his hip are the only thing anchoring him to the bed as Steve bites down on the pillow he’s still holding over his face in an attempt to keep from waking up everyone on their street.

He’s only vaguely aware of Billy climbing up his body and removing the pillow, allowing him to catch his breath. He’s pretty sure Billy sucked his soul through his dick and somehow melted every bone in his body as well.

“You okay, pretty boy?” Billy asks and Steve can hear his grin.

“Uh huh.” Steve can’t make words right now, he’s pretty sure his brain leaked out his ears or something. RIP last brain cell.

Billy wraps one arm around him, pulling him close, and Steve manages to roll onto his side to rest his head on Billy’s chest. He hums happily, his fingers playing idly with the scar on Billy’s chest. 

“Billy?” Steve asks, breaking the comfortable silence they are lying in. He's glad they didn't wake the baby up. He doesn’t regret offering Robin and Heather a weekend off parenting so they could get a break, but keeping the noise down when Billy does unspeakable things to him is exhausting. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think…?”

Steve stops then, trying to articulate the thought he just had, even though his brain wants to sleep because he just had an orgasm and it's the middle of the night.

“What is it?”

“Do you think you'd want to get married on a beach?”

“Pretty boy?” Billy asks, his hand stopping mid stroke on Steve’s arm.

“I mean, I know it's not legal or anything, not yet anyway, but one day…”

“If that's your proposal, it needs work, princess.”

Steve drops a kiss on Billy's chest. “Nah, just wondering. When I propose to you, you'll know for sure.”

“What if I propose to you first?”

THE END

I did some doodles for this fic, because I could... (chapter 1 and chapter 4)

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 8 Matsuribayashi pt. 30

Let’s leave Irie for a minute shall we? I think we’ve had enough of that guy for now.

One, two, three, four

I know we haven’t seen the gaming club hardly at all this chapter, but I promise you they are coming. They’re coming, and they have the writer on their side.

Rude. Although, thinking about it I’m kind of with Ooishi in regards to these two. What does Takano actually see in Tomitake? Is it just a purely physical thing? I think it dives into what she sees in him later on in the chapter, but I don’t remember off hand. I don’t think they’re sleeping together yet, and I don’t think we see very much of the courtship between these two, but she likes him well enough I guess, and vice versa.

Maybe it’s just a personal thing, but even with what he gets up to later I really can’t bring myself to say Jirou Tomitake is cool. He’s just such a dork, always has been. From his humble beginnings in Onikakushi all the way to when he does stuff towards the end of Matsuribayashi I just think he’s a dorky man.

Come on Tomitake, I don’t think it could be any more obvious short of her just coming out and saying that she’d hurt you if you mess with her research.

The following text was spread across three screens, but I decided to just type it out, in an effort to be more economical with what screenshots and fragments are done in which part.

She said… “If you create problems for my research…” I wonder what she wanted to say after that…

I can’t help thinking she wanted to say something terrifyingly merciless.

I kept my promise with her and we never talked about the issue again after that.

I suppose it makes sense to assume that she uses this as partial justification for injecting him with H173 in the other chapters.

A roll of a one

I know it’s kind of late to say this, but I don’t particularly care for the dice metaphor that keeps getting trotted out. I don’t know what could’ve been used in its place, but there’s just something about the constant dice comments that makes me roll my eyes somewhat. It’s not annoying necessarily, but I just kind of go “yes yes, get on with it.” when it comes up later on.

Man, when it rains it pours huh? Just as a heads up, the next two or three fragments will be a protracted session of just dumping on Takano. In case you don’t care about her or her seeming fall from grace.

On the one hand it’s kind of commendable that Takano wants her loved ones to live on forever as a result of her research into Hinamizawa Syndrome. But on the other I kind of feel that there’s slightly less than noble intentions on her part. This is entirely a fiction of my own creation, but it just strikes me that she wants to bring in the names of Hifumi, and Koizumi to potentially deflect from any future criticism of her handling of the research you know? I know her name would be on whatever paperwork future generations would read, but I just kind of get the feeling that this is a “we all rise, and fall together” type of arrangement. Again though, this is kind of just a very small feeling I had while reading this, and most assuredly isn’t the case.

Another thing I can’t help but wonder is if what Tomitake is saying is all just an act, and he’s fully aware of whats going on behind the scenes. During the injection scene in Minagoroshi Tomitake mentions “that faction” making it clear that he’s not in with the Koizumi faction or the mysterious traitor group Takano’s with after this. So I just wonder if he’s in fact fully aware that other factions are planning on shutting down Takano’s research and is just trying to ease her into the idea that it might happen? I also wonder if he’s really in favor of shutting the research down, but he just can’t say that to her since they’re together.

Based on a short conversation I had with @felixcloud6288 I am aware that this fragment, and the two or three after this are meant to take place closer to June 1983. Even at the time I was vaguely aware that I am most certainly playing these fragments out of chronological order.

Regardless, I was quite surprised when it was revealed that the government plans on shutting down their research. Given the way Minagoroshi ended I assumed they were fully supportive of all of the research, even though they were probably unaware of the ritualistic killing of Rika.

Also I lied, there’s a little tiny bit of Irie here.

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 33

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Seb's plotting something. 👀 You also make some new acquaintences.

Author’s Note: After the small continuation of last week’s chapter, this one’s got a small time skip (like, a few weeks at most) and serves mainly as set-up for what’s to come. I like it a lot ^^ I hope you do too! Take care x

Edit: This was written and posted way before 1.6 was released, so I have no idea if the event CA added is at all similar to what I wrote in this chapter and the next one. Just wanted to give y’all that heads up ^^ (and pls don’t give any spoilers, I have yet to experience that for myself!!)

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

Seb and I watched It Howls in the Rain first during our lil’ horror marathon, followed by Midsommar, because Seb’s never seen it. It’s still just as beautifully fucked up as I remember it being. It’s his turn to pick a movie again, and while he’s searching for our next watch on his new laptop, a thought pops into my head.

“We should go on a date.”

He looks at me with a grin briefly before turning back to the screen. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah! We haven’t been on, like, a ~proper~ one, y’know?” 

Seb pauses his fingers and furrows his brows in thought. “That’s true… I hadn’t really noticed, to be honest.” He looks at me. “You have anything in mind?” 

“Not really,” I shrug.

Narrowing his eyes, it looks like Seb has an idea after a beat of thought. He doesn’t say it though. “I’ll take care of it.”

“O-oh?”

“Oh!” He looks back at his screen, determinedly scrolling while avoiding the question. “I’ve got our next one.” 

I giggle at the enthusiasm, then dramatically whine at his pick. “Tremors?”

“What’s wrong with Tremors?!” 

“Sooo corny…” 

“In a good way!”

I sigh. He almost sounds offended, so I’ll give him this one. He’s allowed to like one of the cheesiest horror films I’ve ever seen if he wants to. “Yeah, I guess so. If we’re both still down for another after this I’m picking something corny too, then.” 

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. Seb leans down to kiss my forehead, and before he can fully pull back, I meet his lips with mine. 

Situating myself back against Seb’s chest, I nod at the screen. “Start it up, nerd.”

______________

Sebastian > you busy tonight?

< I’ve been doing some work at Magnus’ place but I can dip if you need

< why, what’s up 👀

Sebastian > think you can be over here by like 6?

< sure, need me to bring anything?

Sebastian > warm clothes and Cannoli

Sebastian > mom’s gonna look after him later on

< wym, what’s going on?

Sebastian > it’s a surprise :)

< love how vague you’re being ;—;

< but *fine,* i’ll be there 

I get up from the cozy, velvety couch, popping a bookmark into the big doozy of a read I was working through, and I set it on the shelf before heading upstairs.

Magnus and I still have yet to really do much aside from studying and whatever, but we’ve been seeing each other a bunch more for my training and shit over the past few weeks. Lotta reading, potion brewing, and creepy hikes into the woods for meditation and spellcasting practice. We tried some teleportation too, but I just can’t get the hang of it. 

It’s been exhausting, but it’s really fun!

We also haven’t gotten jiggy, as Seb called it. Just because there are feelings there and I have Seb’s permission doesn’t mean I’m trying to rush into anything. I haven’t even told Magnus about my agreement with Seb yet, either. Don’t want him to feel pressured. 

Plus, I mean… the whole will we/won’t we has also been exhausting yet fun, in its own way.

As I trek to the entrance of Magnus’ main room, I hear a feminine voice that I don’t recognize. It’s deep and sultry, having a little bit of a lilt to it, but she talks with an overabundance of enthusiasm. I didn’t know Magnus had company besides me... I peak my head around the corner, not showing myself fully yet. Wanna get a feel for the atmosphere before barging in.

Magnus is leaned against one of the counters near his cauldron with his arms crossed against his chest, mostly hidden by his black cloak. His ankles are lazily crossed below him, and he’s nodding along to a woman in front of him. His face seems riddled with concern. Can’t tell if it’s a more serious discussion than it sounds like, or if he’s just pissed about something.

The woman is tall — like, Seb’s height, probably — with pointed ears poking past her long, pin-straight, golden-blonde hair. Her skin is fair, and she’s wearing a velvety and form-fitting black gown with flared long sleeves. She has a gorgeous figure, jeez. The fit is topped off by a textbook stereotype of a witch’s hat: big, pointy, and black, with a purple ribbon around the base.

She was talking very animatedly, using her hands to emphasize certain words, up until now. She suddenly came to a halt. 

Magnus’ eyes widen as they dart towards me, and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows and tilts his head upward just a bit. It looks like he’s holding back from saying something – maybe a warning? – and the witch in front of him continues to stand still.

My own eyes widen, then flicker between him and the woman as my brows furrow. 

“What’s up?” I silently mouth at him. Next thing I know, the witch vanishes. I flinch, not having expected such an abrupt exit. 

“Oh, you’re a cute one, aren’t you?” 

“HOLY SHIT!”

Nearly pissing myself, I pivot my body to the source of the voice that just murmured into my ear.

Here stands the woman that was just with Magnus a second ago, observing my shorter figure behind ocean blue eyes and a coyly tilted noggin. She has a beauty mark under her left eye, but it looks drawn on, unlike my friend’s. Her painted lips, a deep purple on the top and lighter on the bottom, are framing a toothy grin. She’s taking me in like an animal would their prey.

God, she’s super hot…

“Oh, you think so?” Her heavily lined and shadowed eyes redden into the same deep shade Magnus’ do when he’s feeling things.

“Damnit,” I groan under my breath, burying my face in my hands as I realize there’s another telepath in my life now. “Please get out of my head…”

I hear Magnus nearing us as she lifts my reddening face from my hands and into hers, turning it a bit. “That’s no fun,” she tuts as she inspects me. Literally treating me like an object…

“Camilla.” Ohhh, it’s her! That makes sense. ”Release her,” he sternly commands. Whoa. Hearing him talk like that about me makes my tummy flip.

“So protective,” she cheekily responds with an eye roll. “Is this that little apprentice you told me so much about?”

Free from the lady’s grasp, I look at Magnus, feelin’ a little tickled that he told his least-favorite colleague about me. Still antsy though, my hands fidget with the ends of my hair.

“That would be her,” he sighs, his angry red glare softening as he looks at me. As he comes to a halt diagonally from me, he provides a formal introduction. “(Y/n), this is Camilla.” He noticeably stiffens again as he looks towards his colleague.

Hearing her voice, I focus back on the blonde. “Razzy has spoken very fondly about your work.” 

“R-Razzy?” I do my best to egg him on, brain-to-brain, now that I’ve gotten a bit better at that. 

I still can’t read people's minds, and might never be able to; but I’ve all but mastered the art of invading ‘em with dialogue, at the very least. 

My orbs and grin both widen as I slowly turn towards Magnus. He looks down at me beneath fiery red irises. I’ve never seen him so angry.

…I’m sorry but he looks sooo hot like this holy fuck.

“Don’t you dare…” 

Oh god, he sounds hot too!

I gnaw my lip, my smile probably looking more menacing now as I ready myself to eventually test out the nickname. 

“He says you’re quite promising. Very intriguing, considering how green you are,” Camilla continues skeptically, seemingly none the wiser about my private discussion with the wizard. “Even brought you up at the last council meeting.”

“Oh! Seriously?” My head whips between them.  “Magnus,” I address him, my eager eyes landing back onto his. “That’s, like, a huge deal, no?” 

From everything he’s told me about the council, I’ve concluded that they sound intense. Very private in their affairs, but more reputable than most magical associations out there, essentially serving as Ferngill’s arcane overseers. They work with The First Slash, too – masters in their own field – putting their differences in methodology aside to focus on keeping the republic safe. 

If I’m on their radar, that would mean huge things for my arcane career, I guess? Feels weird to put it like that, but it would be accurate at that point.

“It is.” Magnus’ lopsided smile looks proud as he adds, “They’re quite impressed with what you’ve accomplished, my de—“ he clears his throat before correcting himself. “(Y/n). I was waiting to inform you, alas—“

“‘My deeear,’ perhaps…?” Camilla quietly and curiously puts it together, tapping her chin.

D-does… does he not usually call people that? I feel my cheeks tingle a bit just at the thought that the title might solely be reserved for me.

Magnus sighs, seeming annoyed. Camilla then announces, “My business here is done. I’ll let you two enjoy yourselves,” she purrs with a wink in my direction. 

My (e/c) eyes bulge while my cheeks darken further, both at the implications and at how pretty she looked doing that oh my GOD.

In a naught attempt to stop her, Magnus calls after the witch. “C-Camilla, we’ve yet to discuss—” He exhales in defeat, “Aaand she’s gone.” 

Poofed away just as quickly as she has when she teleported behind me.

“She’s… a lot.” I wave my hands a little to shake out the stress of that interaction. 

“Indeed she is, that blasted woman... Brimming with talent, but positively infuriating.”

I lean back against the wall, careful not to trip over or tilt the potted tree at my side. With my fingers clasped behind me, I inspect the wizard. Failing to hide a grin. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“…Nothing, Razzy.” I wiggle my eyebrows for added effect. 

Magnus fucking growls as his eyes shift to a bright crimson again. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. “I wasn’t joking,” he confirms. 

“N-neither am I,” I squeak and stutter. The unfortunate wombo-combo. I look down and scrunch my nose. “Shit,” I laugh hushedly to myself. 

Since our discovery those few weeks ago, there’s been a drastic increase in flirtatiousness between the two of us. I’d say every time we meet, we get one step closer to… uh. Getting jiggy. God damnit Sebby. The dude completely infected my brain with that phrasing.

There are more passing touches now. For example, Magnus will sometimes absentmindedly play with my hair as we work together, even tucking it away for me if it falls into my vision. Likewise, I might catch myself looping my digits through his as we walk to our training sites, when he opts not to teleport us.

There’s also been an increase in lingering eyes and stolen glimpses, both of us often getting caught in the act of checking the other out.

Magnus even says and does shit just to try and fluster me now. Random compliments here and there. Some innuendos where he can afford to sneak ‘em in. Faint goosebump-inducing whispers against my ear, as he watches me brew a potion or whatever.

Can’t tell if it’s the spirits at work with their partner in time bullshit or if it’s just me, but it’s getting harder to resist him every fucking day. 

All that to say, I’m especially feeling it right now. 

In the present, it’s Magnus’ turn to form a mischievous grin. His eyes darken and scan me and he draws near, my face and ears burning up.

“Everything alright? You sounded a tad disheveled, for a moment.” 

Magnus stops just barely in front of me as I nod my answer at him. 

“How uncharacteristically timid of you,” he quietly coos, bending down a little to accommodate for our height difference, and taking my chin in his hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

Oh come on, bro! That should not have been as hot as it was.

I squeak again, fuck, shaking my head as my vision trails away from Magnus’ prying eyes. My heart’s beating so frickin’ hard. Yoba, I wanna kiss his stupid smirking lips…

“Um,” I breathe. I clear my throat before murmuring, “I just came up to see if you wanted to go over anything else.” Good, straight to the point, (y/n). Don’t wanna bust a move just yet. “I’ve gotta head out early today.” 

I finally meet the elemental’s gaze again, and after a moment of visible contemplation while his eyes simmer to maroon, he shakes his head. “No, I won’t keep you if you’ve other affairs to attend to.” 

“Cool,” I smile as he backs up a bit, returning the expression. 

I take note of the way my cheek follows his hand for a split second while it draws away from me, and mentally scold myself. Unfortunately, I’m also made very aware that Magnus noticed it too. He hums out a soft laugh at me for it.

I make my way to the door, grabbing my jacket and tossing it on. “Any wild and crazy plans for you tonight?”

“But of course,” Magnus plays along, escorting me the few feet I traveled. “In fact, I’m already fashionably late for a mixer with some shadow people.”

“As if you’d willingly go to a mixer,” that term feels outdated somehow, “ya hermit.” After slipping my boots over my feet, I kneel to tie them.

“I would!” Magnus defends. “I jest now, but shadow people tend to have a playful vigor that I often find hard to turn down.”

“Sounds like it would be more fun to go to a shadow person party than a human party…”

”Indeed it is,” he chuckles. “Much less chaotic, believe it or not. Little Krobus holds one in their sewer every Spirit’s Eve — Festival of the Mundane, they call it.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mhm.” Nodding and helping me up, Magnus continues, “They dress as how most mundane do, similarly to how the mundane wear costumes in poor resemblance to elementals during the holiday.” 

I try imagining it, and can’t help the brief fit of giggles I break into. I can just imagine a bunch of blobby, ink-black, vaguely human-shaped figures dressed as the citizens of Pelican Town, pretending to be us. Dancing like Emily, maybe trying to skateboard like Sam or jump rope like Jas…

“That’s so adorable, oh my god.”

“It is. I could consult Krobus about bringing you this year, if you’d like. You’ll need a convincing disguise, as many of their friends won’t take so kindly to a mundane in their presence, but I’m sure Krobus themself would be delighted to meet you.”

I nod enthusiastically. Even with how socially anxious I get, I’m so obsessed with the idea of befriending a shadow person, now that I know they’re not all that terrible. 

After patting myself down to make sure I have everything, I put two dorky thumbs up for Magnus. “See you soon, wizard.”

Snorting as he sees me out, Magnus responds, “Until next time, mortal.”

______________

I’ve really gotta get a cat carrier of sorts. 

I’m trekking my way to Seb’s house, trying to balance a tote on one shoulder, a backpack around both, and a very wily Cannoli in my arms. 

He doesn’t wanna be held right now, but I don’t have a leash or anything that would ensure he doesn’t just run off somewhere. He’s perfect when it comes to staying on the farm despite technically having the freedom to go wherever, so it makes me wonder if he isn’t comfortable to be outside and off familiar territory.

“Just a little longer,” I mumble against his head. 

It’s starting to get dark earlier now, so I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a rustle in a nearby berry bush. Cannoli and I both stop and stare at it, expecting the worst. Why now, with my cat on me, is something freaky happening? C’mon, man…

The bush rustled again, and a short, stocky figure pops out. 

Cannoli and I yelp. 

Then, the figure does as well. We’re all solidified in place for a moment before it takes a step towards me, just barely lit by a nearby lamp.

I breathe a sigh of relief, realizing it’s just Linus. 

Huh… I’m having a lot of interactions with people I’ve never, like, actually spoken to lately.

“Oh— I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Giving Cannoli some comforting neck scratches, I shake my head. “No, it’s fine! I just didn’t expect to run into anyone out here.” 

“I often do my foraging during the daytime, but it’s tougher once we get to the colder months,” Linus casually explains while picking some blackberries from the outer branches of his nearest shrub. “Sorry if I’m in your way”

“Not at all, I’m just passing through,” I smile. “D-do you forage often?” I timidly ask, genuinely curious. I’ve always wondered about the quality of all these wild berries, but haven’t had the balls to just pick and eat any of ‘em.

“It’s how I feed myself.” I frown, and the man quickly assures me, “I live the way I do by choice. I hope you won’t take pity on me.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean for it to seem that way.” I shake my head again. “I didn’t know that, though, it sounds pretty neat.”

“I agree,” he calmly smiles. 

He has the same soothing and friendly aura my grandpa did… it’s really nice. No wonder he and Magnus get along so well. 

“Anyone can learn to survive in the wild. I think we all have the hidden urge to return to nature,” he says, “It’s just a little scary to make the leap.”

I nod. “For sure. It’s really intimidating.” 

“It’s rewarding if you can adapt.” He moves onto a new bush before beginning his goodbye. “Sorry to cut this short, but I need to gather as much as I can before it gets too dark.”

“Sure, no worries.” I start to walk again, offering him a good night. 

“Thank you, young friend.” Aw! “You as well.”

As we part ways, I wonder if Linus’d be interested in a home cooked meal every here and there. I imagine that even if he lives in the wild by choice, he might still appreciate something warm and made with care from time to time.

As I emerge from the backwoods and stumble down the hill to Seb’s, Robin is heading out of the house. Perfect. I barely have the hands to be able to open it myself right now. 

“Oh, hey there!” She waves, holding the door open for me.

“Hello!” I wave at her with Cannoli’s paw, jogging lightly to catch up. “I have no idea what Seb’s plan is, but thanks for offering to look after this little guy.”

“Me neither, just said you two might be out late.” She pats Cannoli, then me. I despise the content sigh I let out as her palm reaches my scalp. “Just make sure the lab’s locked up before you let the cat loose anywhere.”

I give Robin a curt nod. “You got it ma’am.”

“Have fun, ya rascals.” She makes sure to scruff up my hair a bunch before departing.

I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, you too.”

When I’m heading down to Seb, I once again make eye contact with Maru. This time she’s leaving the lab, rather than working inside of it. I can’t wave back this time because cat, so I give her a smile and hope my point gets across.

Once I’m at the bottom of the steps, I tap the door with my foot. “Oy, help!” 

“Comin’,” I hear Seb shout from the other side.

When he opens the door, Cannoli practically pounces on him from my grasp. Seb lets out a tiny yelp.

“What the hell, dude!” I look up at Seb. “You okay?” 

As he pries Cannoli’s claws out of the fabric of his hoodie, he nods, laughing. “Yeah, just scared me.” In a quieter voice, he holds the fuzzball’s face up to his. “Hello to you too, fucker,” he mutters before giving the cat a kiss on the nose. He’s so adorable. 

“Spill it, nerd,” I command dramatically as I plop all my stuff down and shut the door. “Where we goin’?”

“Not big on surprises, eh?” 

“I like surprises!” I frown, “I just wanna know what I’m getting into so I can mentally prepare.”

“Sounds pretty anti-surprise, if ya ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” I tap my head and waggle my eyebrows.

“Fair,” he laughs, setting Cannoli down. As I take out a toy for the little guy to occupy himself with, Seb starts to explain his plan. “So, you know about the Night Market, yeah?”

“I think so…?” I furrow my brows, trying to rack my brain for distant memories. “Is that the thing with the boats and shit?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s usually out here, like, mid-January-ish. Buuut they’re set up on land in Calico this week,” he grins. “They have food stalls and games and shit, too. S’like a little carnival. More room for them to set up in the desert than over at our docks, I guess.” He fidgets with his nail polish a bit, shyly continuing, “It sounds like something you might like, so I figured we could go check it out…?” 

I’m fucking beaming. That sounds so fun!

“Hell yeah, dude!” I nod enthusiastically. “This is gonna be sick.”

“Thank fuck,” he mutters to himself. “I’ve never really done any proper dates before, wasn’t sure if I planned it right.”

“What do you mean? You’ve had exes besides Sam, no?” 

“Eh, kinda?” He shrugs. “Did a lot more messing around than actual dating.”

“Getting jiggy?”

“Precisely.” He reaches for my hair. “Here, you’re a looking a little skrungly.”

“Ugh, I forgot about that.” I lean into Seb’s touch. “Your mom gave me a new ‘do on her way out.”

“She did a shit job.”

“At least she knows how to do her own nicely.”

Seb’s lips curve up, as if fondly thinking of her. Makes me feel fuzzy. “Yeah, I’m thankful she passed her good hair genes down to me.”

“…How mad would you be if I told you she’s just as much of a MILF as Jo—“

He stops running his fingers through my hair mid-stroke and tugs. Mmm. A serious look suddenly plasters his features. “I will break up with you.”

Damn. I know it’s a bluff, given the grin he’s very clearly trying to hold back, but I ain’t takin’ any chances. I don’t shy away from casting him a shitty smile. “Gotcha.”

[velvetcloxds]

MEET THE MIKAELSONS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x Fem! Reader, Teen Wolf x The Originals (requested) 

Word count: 1962 words

Warning: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader takes her friends and her boyfriend, Derek to visit her family home where they find out that she’s related to the infamous Mikaelson vampires.

“Just don’t touch anything,” I command calmly, Stiles pausing mid air as his hand hovers over one of Klaus’s paintings and everyone allows for a soft laugh, Derek kissing the side of my head as his hand remains inside my back pocket.

“This place is beautiful,” Lydia notes, looking around slowly as her eyes move over the various features of the compound.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, walking deeper into the compound as I mimic her actions, mentally comparing the way it looks to the pictures Rebekah sent me with her letters and I can’t help but smile when my eyes settle on the Mikaelson crest, fingers reaching out mindlessly as I trace the carved wall numbly.

“What does it stand for?” Derek asks, moving behind me where he wraps his hands around my waist, face resting on my shoulder. My smile grows due to the gesture, free hand finding one of his.

“Mikaelson,” I note softly, memories of our family suddenly speeding through my mind like a slideshow, things I’d told myself I’d forgotten completely proving to be embedded into my brain.

“Like the ancient vampire family?” Scott asks, having disappeared to the bathroom for a minute as soon as we got here.

“More vampires?” Stiles asks from behind me, and I nod.

“Yeah, they’re the first of their kind,” I explain, though my attention is far from this conversation, a feeling similar to the one I felt when I explained this to Derek, him being the only one knowing not only who I truly am and where I come from, but whom I was running from. “The Originals,” I add, and Derek gives me a slight squeeze, turning me around in his arms, probably picking up on my dazed state.

“Cool,” Is all Stiles offers as a reply, taking Lydia’s hand as Scott follows them to explore more of the house.

“You okay?” He whispers, leaning towards me. I nod in his hold, hands moving to his arms.

“Just a little weird being here, I guess.” I look up to him, smiling slightly when our eyes meet. “I thought that when I finally got to see this place in all its glory, they’d be here with me, waiting maybe,” Derek nods with understanding, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He loosens his grip, leaning back to get a better look at me. “We can leave if you’re not comfortable,” He offers sweetly and I shake my head with a smile, kissing his lips quickly.

“No,” I tell him though I can’t hide the slight rise in my tone, his brows furrowing as a result. “We need to let things cool down in Beacon Hills and no one will bother us here,” I pause, sighing softly as I move my hands over his bare arms. “Besides, there’s a literal coffin around here somewhere with my name on it.”

“Wait really?” Derek asks intrigued as he looks around the room pointlessly. I nod, not fighting against the smile on my lips.

“Yeah, a dagger too, but I doubt we’ll find that just laying around,” I pull away from him briefly, taking his hand in mine as I guide him towards the hallway by the staircase where Stiles’ is excitedly gesturing towards the wall.

“It’s her!” He announces loudly, eyes moving over the painting that Klaus painted of our family, and I subconsciously tighten my grip on Derek’s hand, his thumb moving up and down against my skin to soothe me.

“It’s not her,” Lydia argues with a roll of her eyes, arms folded as Scott simply watches the scene unfold. “It’s far more likely to be a relative that looks remarkably a lot like her,” She reasons and Derek bites back a grin at my side.

“She’s a vampire, right?” Stiles ask, looking to me for conformation and I nod, seeing no need for the question as he literally walked in on me sipping from a blood bag a few months ago. “And she’s been annoyingly vague about her family and her history, right?” He asks, question directed at Scott and Lydia this time, they both nod. “And she brought us to her family home, which has paintings of the Mikaelson family which Scott saw in the bestiary, where he also read that the Mikaelson family also have a long-lost hybrid sister who hasn’t been spotted in years…” Stiles nods eagerly as he waits for the pieces to fall together, Scott and Lydia looking to me as it does.

“Are you a Mikaelson?” Scott asks, hands in his pockets as he shifts on his feet, I release a shaky breath before offering a mere nod as reply, Stiles almost jumping up and down with the conformation of him being correct.

“Holy shit,” Stiles begins and turns to me, eyes sparkling with excitement. “That is so cool, like literally the coolest thing you’ve ever told us about yourself,” He informs me, and Derek shakes his head at my side, glaring at the boy as he continues to grow more excited.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scott asks hesitantly, ignoring Stiles who is fiddling with his jacket sleeves as he takes a closer look at my specific painting. “Didn’t you trust us?” He adds as well, and I shake my head quickly.

“Of course I trust you,” I begin, and Derek squeezes my hand again, reminding me to breathe as I think of the best way to explain this. “I wanted to tell you all, truly I did, but our family has enemies around every corner, and I didn’t want to bring you guys into that,” I look over all of them quickly before turning to meet Derek’s gaze. “I love you all too much to create unnecessary collateral damage.“

“So why tell us now?” Lydia questions with a raised brow and I notice the added heartbeats filling the room behind us before I could fathom a reply, the gushing wind of their entrance still swirling around us.

“Because you’re in need of our assistance,” A familiar voice explains, and I close my eyes for a second in preparation before turning to face my older brother.

“Elijah,” I whisper in acknowledgement, the words barely leaving my lips before he’s picking me up into his arms, twirling me around in a welcoming hug that causes a childlike giggle to erupt from my lips. “I’ve missed you too,” I confirm, hands on his shoulders as he sets my feet back on the ground and I take a moment to center myself. “And you,” I say when my eyes meet with Rebekah’s, happy tears tugging at her eyes and I release myself from Elijah’s presence to pull her into my arms, her arms folding around my neck as she holds me close.

“It has been far too long, Y/n ,” She whispers, laughing lightly through her tears. She squeezes me tightly before pulling away, hands moving to comb back the hair that’s been ruffled through our hug and her hands still on my cheeks as she takes me in. “My little sister, even more beautiful than I remember,” She notes, which earns a scoff from both my lips and Elijah’s.

“I look exactly the same, Bekah and you know it,” I muse, taking the handkerchief from Elijah’s hands to hold it out for Rebekah . “Though, I’d never turn down the compliment from the beauty of the family.”

“Oh, I take great offense by your insinuation, love, ” Klaus announces, and everyone turns to the entrance, where he leans against the wall, watching the interaction. “Welcome home, Y/n,” He notes with a large smile, and I know as far as greeting go, that’s quite the scene from the hybrid.

“Thank you, Niklaus,” I offer in the same and my cheeks practically hurt form the pure excitement rushing through me at seeing them all again, the nerves and discomfort from earlier slipping away almost completely, until Klaus’ eyes meet Derek’s and suddenly reality sinks back in. I take a few steps back, smiling up at Derek before rejoining our hands, my other hand snaking around his upper arm to keep him close. “I should introduce everyone,” I note with a nervous smile and Derek simply nods reassuringly.

“I’d begin with the creature you’re so eagerly latching onto,” Klaus announces, happy tone from earlier replaced with the all so familiar big brother voice.

“Play nice, Niklaus,” Elijah instructs, accepting my grateful smile before silently commanding me to continue.

“This is my boyfriend, Derek,” I begin, looking up at the man as he extends a hand towards Elijah inducing the longest handshake I’ve ever had to endure until Rebekah clears her throat, the two men pulling away from each other. “Then there’s Lydia, Stiles and Scott,” I add, releasing a small huff of air as I gesture to each of them individually.

“It’s good to meet all of,” Rebekah speaks up, catching my gaze with a warm smile before she looks to my guests. “We’re the Mikaelsons,” She explains, and I nod lightly. “Elijah, Klaus and I’m Y/n’s personal favorite, Rebekah,” She declares simply, mimicking my gesture until everyone has extended an acknowledging nod.

“We should talk business,” Klaus commands suddenly, standing from his leaning position to walk towards us. “You bunch are here for a reason, aren’t you?” He muses with a slight wink my way and I roll my eyes at the remark, knowing that only he would take this opportunity to take a jab at my decision to leave them.

“Don’t start, Niklaus,” Elijah offers with a tight tone and I would’ve laughed if the room wasn’t so tense, a sense of familiarity filling me at the little group dynamic that’s remained the same through all these years.

“I’m not starting anything, Elijah,” Klaus replies, hurriedly pulling his leather jacket straight. “I’m simply trying to remind our dear sister that she is here on what she called a family favor and that we wouldn’t want to waste her precious time,” I’m too late to stop the soft laugh that escapes my lips, Klaus turning towards be in slight shock.

"Honestly Klaus, it has been centuries and you're telling me that no one has yet to remove that stick from your ass?” I mock and Elijah steps forward, fully prepared to stop the interaction when a smile traces the hybrids lips.

“Little sister,” He muses and then shakes his head, pointing at me. “You have booked yourself a long dinner,” He announces and pats Elijah on the shoulder to invite him to leave the room with him. Elijah spares me a brief smile before following.

“That went better than expected,” Rebekah notes and I smile at her, nodding with relief as Klaus and Elijah begin discussing the diner plans on their climb up the stairs. “Why don’t I show you three your rooms,” she says and motions for Scott, Stiles and Lydia to follow them, pausing to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before leading them away as well. I turn to Derek with a smile, his eyes already waiting for mine as I do.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he tells me, making my heart swell as I lean into him. “I’m very proud of you,” He adds, and I feel a blush creeps onto my cheeks.

“I couldn’t have done it without you at my side,” I say simply, resting my chin against his chest as I look up at him. He hums lightly, shaking his head as he lifts his free hand to gently push the hair behind my ear.

“You definitely could have,” He muses and gently kisses my forehead, sending a welcome rush of pure bliss through my veins, I smile as he lingers close. “My brave girl.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad.  Mxx.

Masterlist

[retrievablememories]

gravity | taemin (m)

title: gravity pairing: taemin x gn reader genre: angst, smut, fwb request: Hi! Slipping another request for your growing request list 😅. If you're down to write it -- can we have a Taemin fic about someone he can't help being drawn back to every time he's in their city. Idk if you know the song 'Gravity' by Brent Faiyaz but, 100% that kind of vibe. 100% down for it to be smutty word count: 3.4k warnings: long-distance angstiness, oral sex (including face fucking), mirror sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (do not 🙅🏿‍♀️🙅🏿‍♀️), creampie, hand on the throat but no choking, fuckboy taemin? a/n: Taemin’s gone off to the service and left me with an infant to raise by myself so here’s a fic i guess 😢😢😢😢😢😢 i made the reader gender neutral because the requester used “their” pronouns/didn’t specify gender, but anon if you want something different you can let me know recommended songs: gravity + brent faiyaz | strings + taemin | everytime + ariana grande

—

i’d get you what you want, but you want me alone

—

His name and picture appear on your phone one evening without forewarning, and despite yourself, it makes your breath catch. You count the beats in your head before allowing yourself to pick up the call, not wanting to seem more eager than necessary. You would’ve picked it up halfway before the first ring finished, if you were a little less shameless.

It feels like every nerve in your body has come online from a deep sleep when he speaks your name.

“How have you been doing?” he asks, his voice a casual lilt.

“I’m fine. Life is...life. I’m doing okay. What about you?”

“Busy,” he says, which you expected. He always is. “There’s never not something to do.” There’s hesitation in Taemin’s voice when he speaks again—maybe something akin to longing—and the syllables of his words drag out longer than they need to. “You know, I’m back in town. Just on some business, but...”

You pause, and even though you’ve physically hesitated, your heart begins leaping like it’s trying to escape your chest. “You are?”

“Yes, I won’t be here for very long, but…” His voice trails off like there’s a silent part within that he expects you to fill in. Indeed, you’ve both been doing this long enough to know how that sentence ends.

“But you want to see me,” you finish for him. You smirk at that, knowing him probably better than he knows himself. A surge of discontent stirs in your chest, though, which you are unable to fully tune out.

Taemin makes a noise like he’s stretching out, and you imagine him lying back on his bed. He’s likely already been put up in a hotel, the same one he always stays at when he comes to your city. “Good guess.” He laughs sneakily, like you’ve just spilled something no one was supposed to know, and you snort. “Did you miss me? We haven’t met in so long.”

You sigh, feeling like you’re walking into a trap. Taemin’s need for affection, especially fully vocalized affection, has always seemed a bit like a setup, even if he wasn’t entirely aware of it. A way to expose your growing feelings for him without you even realizing what you’d done. “I think you know the answer to that one. Clearly, I don’t need to ask if you’ve missed me.”

He laughs. For a moment you wish you were on FaceTime instead, so you could see the smile stretching itself out on his pretty, plush lips.

“I always end up missing you...everything about you, like the faces you make when I’m between your thighs, or how you always get so tight around me…” His voice is lower now, more breathy, a promise and a tease all at the same time.

You swallow nervously at those words, blood already rushing to your lower body. “Tae…”

Taemin moans softly in answer to you calling his name, and it makes you die a little on the inside. “I can’t wait to come inside you, mark you as mine again.” Before you can think to respond to that, he says, “...But we should save all that for when we see each other, hm?” And he giggles again. If you were not so infatuated with him, you might reach through the phone to strangle him.

“God, Taemin...you wear me out.”

“Don’t I always?”

—

Later that week, Taemin shows up at your place with his overnight bag in tow, just as you’d expected. And food.

“Oh, you brought sustenance,” you say, raising your eyebrows at the bag of food in his hands.

“Yes, duh. Although you like to claim otherwise, I’m not such a pervert that I don’t know how to wine and dine you before getting what I want.” You roll your eyes at that, letting him come past the threshold.

“Okay, Tae. Whatever you say.” You pinch a strand of his black-and-white hair, and it slips from your fingers as he walks past you. “Nice weave. Whose idea was it this time?”

Taemin cuts his eyes at you. “You should be thanking me for giving you something to pull on.”

You cover your mouth to hide your laughter, shaking your head. “Ah, Lee Taemin. Such a gracious lover.”

Before you can even think about getting to the main event, you both spend a few hours just catching up on things, eating the food he’d brought, and acting way too much like a couple for your sanity. You wonder if he feels the same way about this behavior deep down, but you aren’t going to venture down that road by asking him. Not yet.

After you are done eating, it doesn’t take long to fall into bed and into the same pattern you’ve established with each other. Taemin has pulled his hair back into a small ponytail at the back of his head, because he thinks you’ll find it hotter—always such a glutton for your attention—and you are exasperated because he’s right. Taemin reads the sudden interest in your gaze, and his lips curve in a knowing and devious smile before pulling you into his grasp.

“I was wanting this for so damn long,” he says to you with his lips against your neck. He corners you in the hallway, his body pressing against your own as he plants one hand on your lower back and brings your hips close enough that even a single breath couldn’t get between you.

“You say that every time,” you sigh, tilting your head and allowing him more space to brush his lips over your skin.

“Because it’s true.” You don’t know how you eventually get to your bedroom, because Taemin seems intent on peeling all your clothes off in the middle of the hallway. Your shirt is missing and your pants are already unbuttoned by the time you reach the bed, and Taemin’s own shirt is lying in the doorway of your room. The peony tattoo on his hip is almost fully displayed now, blooming darkly against his skin and disappearing partway beneath the waistband of his skinny jeans.

Taemin climbs onto the bed to join you and kisses you deeply, your chests pressed together and his hips rocking fluidly against your own, his growing erection pressing deliciously into you and making you arch your hips into him. You spend so long simply kissing that you feel like an overexcited college student making out with your crush for the first time again, and you distantly wonder why he’s spending more time on this than he usually would.

Eventually, he parts from your lips and makes it his personal mission to kiss every inch of your body he can, making his way from your neck to the top of your jeans.

He kisses you through your underwear before sliding it off you, taking his time with this movement, and puts his silky wet mouth on you. You tremble underneath him as his tongue sweeps over you, and you dip your hands down into that hair—which is admittedly just as fun to pull on as he’d predicted. 

The strands become fully unleashed from their former neat little ponytail by the time Taemin has you coming and spilling over his tongue and fingers. When he finishes, he pulls back from you—licking his lips all the while—and runs a hand through the loose hair, pretending to sigh in annoyance and casting a look to the abandoned hair tie on the floor.

“Ah, babe...you never appreciate my hard work.”

“Taemin...shut up.”

Despite his complaint, he doesn’t bother with tying it back up again. After he’s peeled his pants and underwear off with your help, he gets onto the bed and kneels above you, legs balanced on either side of your shoulders. You put your tongue out for him to slide his length across, but he only teases you for a few moments by tapping the tip against your tongue. Nothing but a sticky trail of precum is left between his tip and your tongue; you try to beg him for more with your eyes alone. Taemin meets your pleading gaze with his own wicked eyes, but he only smiles vaguely and keeps up his teasing game, rubbing the head of his dick across your lips and smearing his precum over your mouth like gloss.

Finally, he decides he’s done with denying you and feeds his dick to you inch by inch. He gives a rough moan when he pulls out and pushes back in, savoring the way your mouth tightens around him. 

Taemin places his hands on the bed and slowly thrusts his hips, fucking your mouth like he often likes to do, his thighs flexing with the motions. He does this until sweat beads on his forehead, sliding his member between your lips and reveling in the dirty wet sounds it creates, and he laughs when he sees your hand clumsily slide further down between your legs. 

“Does having your throat fucked turn you on this much?” he murmurs. “Can’t even help yourself ‘cause you’re in love with my dick. Shameless.” You cannot respond to his mocking, but his words make you even more aroused than before. Despite Taemin’s teasing of you, his own face and neck are flushing with heat, and his cock throbs as the familiar sensation of nearing the edge creeps up on him. With much reluctance, he pulls himself out of your mouth, leaving strings of your spit clinging to his shaft. 

“Thank you for getting me nice and wet, baby.” He shuffles himself further down your body, kissing you on the lips once before settling himself between your legs and pulling your thighs around his slim hips. His cock nudges wet and hard against your inner thigh, and you gasp when he pushes into you, the stretch pleasant after so long of being empty of him.

Taemin wastes no time with rocking into you, setting a smooth rhythm that both of you are intimately familiar with. Taemin keeps one hand on your hip while the other holds your face, his thumb edging into your mouth. You curve your lips around this thumb, scraping your teeth against it and lapping your tongue across it just like you do on his dick. You take great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you, his grip on your waist tightening and his thrusts coming a bit faster.

He looks at you with burning eyes as he circles his hips into you. Pieces of his hair stick to his neck from the sweat, and his plump lips part with the marvel of having you spread out beneath him. He replaces his thumb with his lips yet again, dipping his tongue into your mouth and biting your bottom lip until it threatens to bleed.

Liquid heat radiates through your lower body as Taemin’s shaft keeps dragging in and out of you, and your legs weaken around his waist as you get closer to reaching your end. Before you can be pushed to the top of that shining zenith of pleasure, though, Taemin abruptly pulls out of you.

“No,” you whine breathlessly. That is the only sound your vocal chords can currently push out, though you’d like to throw a slew of curse words at him. He only smiles at your soft complaint and lowers his head for a second to kiss your kneebone, a fleeting but tender touch.

Without forewarning, Taemin shifts you over on the bed so you’re both positioned in front of the full-length mirror leaning against your wall. Pulling your head back, he brings your face up so you can see the both of you reflected in the mirror—Taemin’s hand coaxingly pressing your back into an arch, his hair hanging damp over his shoulders. Then he pushes back into you, sliding to the hilt in one easy motion, and you almost bite your lip before realizing it’s still hurting from Taemin’s insistent biting.

To your own eyes you already look exhausted, all fucked out and simply taking Taemin’s thrusts as he gives them. Taemin’s had the right idea, though, because you can’t take your eyes away from the vision of him behind you. You watch as all his muscles flex while he pushes into you, his eyes hotly meeting yours in the mirror, and his lips twitch up into a grin.

“What a beautiful sight,” he sighs, and he’s barely even breathless even with all the sweat decorating his skin. Exactly what fucking a professional dancer will get you—nothing but stamina and hips.

You grip the sheets as you stare back at Taemin as he fucks you, feeling a little exposed but ultimately captivated by it. The hand that was in your hair slides lower and around to your collarbone, coming to rest at the base of your throat. Taemin keeps his hand there to feel your throat jump underneath his fingers as you swallow harshly and gasp in response to his thrusts.

Taemin gives a shuddering groan when you tighten more around him, and he pushes forward a little deeper, the tip of his cock hitting your spot just right. Your head drops momentarily as you cry out, and you think your knees might turn to jelly beneath you. “Oh, yes. There? There.” Taemin murmurs this all in quick succession as he adjusts himself to find that perfect angle again and keeps rutting into it, one hand tight on your hip and the other still at your throat—now coming up to cup your chin and pull your face back up towards the mirror.

“Min,” escapes from your lips, though it’s a choppy sound. If you wanted to say anything else, you wouldn’t even be able to.

“Poor baby, you can’t even form words. Is it that fucking good? Tell me.” Taemin entices you to meet his gaze in the mirror again, squeezing his hand on your jaw and pressing his thumb against your lips like he’ll slip it back in once more. It takes you a moment of heavy breaths and clumsy not-quite-coherent sounds to respond.

“G-good,” you mutter against his hand. “Fuck me, oh my God—”

You come around Taemin with a small shout. He gives you a bit of reprieve and lets you hang your head back down—because right now your whole body feels like it wants to collapse with the muscle-weakening wave of pleasure that’s overtaken you. More little clipped sounds and pleas leap from your throat as Taemin fucks you through it, dangerously close to losing himself, too.

He keels over you with a gasping moan when he comes, his dick throbbing inside you while he spills so much cum that some of it drips back out. His heated breaths spread across your skin as he leans over you, bracing his arms on either side of your body and thrusting his hips just a little more to ride out the last of his climax.

Finally, you allow your body to slump forward, and Taemin slides out of you as you do, causing another messy trail of his cum to drip from you. His hand glides over your back, and he makes a noise that you could only describe as fully satisfied. “My favorite view.”

—

You and Taemin lie next to each other, your right arm nudging his left, his fingers playing over the back of your hand and making it tickle from the gentle touches. When the pillowtalk starts fading, you decide to bring up the one thing that’s been wearing on your mind since Taemin first called.

“Taemin...are we going to do this every time you pop into the city for a few days? A week?” You ask this quietly while Taemin traces long, winding lines over your forearm.

The motion of his fingers stop, and he looks carefully at the side of your face as you lie next to him. “Do you not like our little meetings anymore?” His tone is joking, but there’s an air of sadness to it not far behind.

“I didn’t say all that, but…” You pause. “We only ever get a few moments together. A day or two. Stealing hours to spend together, working on borrowed time...it’s not my idea of the perfect...arrangement.” You hesitate before saying arrangement, unsure how to describe this odd, magnetic connection you both have without making it deeper than it really is. A stiff silence hangs in the air, waiting to be broken by either of you.

Because you’re not sure—no, you definitely know that what you and Taemin have can’t really be called a relationship. What do you have?

“You’re always gone because of your work, and...that’s fine, I know how hard you work and you like always having something to do, but…” You want to say something like, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to be away from you all the damn time. Those words have too much weight of responsibility behind them, however. They have the power to change things in a way you aren’t sure you want them to change—or that you’re still too afraid of.

“...And you miss me? More than just the sex, I mean.” Taemin’s voice is still a touch playful, though that quality is quickly dwindling away. His eyes fill with some emotion that’s more thoughtful and more saddened than just a few minutes ago. He is not quite ready for this conversation to turn to a depressing note, but he figures there’s no avoiding it this time.

“You always ask questions you already have answers to, Taemin.”

Taemin sighs. “I know it must be unfair to you...but I can’t stay away from you.” He hesitates, and the space between his eyebrows creases. “I think about you a lot more than I maybe should. I like your conversation and your company...even all the ridiculous jokes you make. But...”

You grit your teeth, clenching your fingers together and listening to Taemin’s words. “‘But…’? What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t want to keep you waiting around for me,” he answers softly. “If we were together, you’d always just be waiting for the next time to see me.”

“I already do that,” you grumble, feeling irritated and misunderstood.

“But—if we...it would be different—”

“You’d feel worse about leaving your partner behind rather than someone you just fuck, I guess?”

Taemin lets out a heavy breath and closes his eyes. “Don’t make me sound like such an asshole.”

“I haven’t made you sound like anything, or made you do anything,” you say bitterly, keeping your eyes on the ceiling as you speak. “It’s you, after all, who always feels the need to tell me when you’re back in town. I don’t ask after you, Taemin.” Because I would only ever ask for something you can’t seem to give me.

“So I’ll ask again. Do you not want to do this anymore?”

This man is possibly too dense for your nerves to withstand. And even though it would probably be better for you to say yes, to end this for your own good—and his own, even if he doesn’t realize it just yet—you don’t want this to stop. Being needed by him, even for something as simple as sex and as complicated as emotions that neither of you quite know how to confront, is something you don’t want to give up. Even if it gives you very little in return.

“That’s the wrong question to ask.” You sit up, letting the sheets pool around your waist. Taemin follows you, pressing his chest to your back as he slides his arms around your stomach, and you lower your head, wishing you weren’t so vulnerable to his advances. Taemin presses his mouth to your shoulder in an apologetic touch, and the feel of his lips makes something fall apart inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Sorry I can’t be there for you like you want me to be, maybe. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for, and you don’t care to ask at the moment.

You turn to face him. “Just stop. I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Then you push him back onto the bed, straddling him with both legs on either side of his waist. “Just. Stop. Talking.”

And so Taemin wordlessly lets you reignite the flame, working yourselves up into a mishmash of hands and mouths and bodies again, leaving so many words unsaid between the two of you.

—

with breathless lips, you paint my name with sorrow countless times this night

—

[glowingbadger]

Let's talk "Fertility Saint Cichol" for a bit, shall we?

No one requested this, I just wanted to let my mind wander on its own for once lol.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

cw: cock worship, deep throating, me being a shameless size queen

NSFW 18+

* and spoilers I guess idk

You've only been in Seteth's quarters a handful of times before, and always with him present. Today, however, it seems work has kept him late, and so you meander around his room, trying to occupy yourself without being overly intrusive as you wait to meet him for tea. Truthfully, there isn't much to see. A tasteful four poster bed with curtains drawn, several bookshelves, a work desk- as if he needs more opportunities to work, you think with a bemused smirk.

So, to keep busy, you choose a light bit of reading at random from an uncharacteristically unruly pile on the floor beside Seteth's desk. It appears to be an anthology of some rather fantastical tales centering the saints. As you skim through, you can't help a grin. Evidently, Cethleann was 9 feet tall and her hair was a literal flowing waterfall, while Indech once gave birth to a pegasus (the pegasus later rejoined his physical form somehow- it's rather vague about this point- which is why we've never seen physical evidence of it, so this text claims).

And then you reach a collection of poems dedicated to Saint Cichol. Your eyes scan the page, narrowing as they proceed. With each line, your face warms to a darker shade of red. It's... shockingly salacious. A fertility God? Goddess blessed manhood of awe-inspiring proportion? Virility that fills barren riverbeds?!

You're so consumed by the collage of erotic imagery conjured into your mind that you barely hear the door open behind you.

"My apologies for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting terribly long."

"Oh- not at all!" you say, turning to face Seteth as he enters. The stress of the work day is smoothed over by the warmth of his smile on seeing you. But he must notice something strange about your expression, as his brows furrow in curiosity. Then, he notices the book in your hands.

"Goddess help me- of all of the books you could have-" he quickly strides towards you and seizes it from you, tossing it back to its pile, "Please assure me that you didn't take any of that- that filth to heart." he says, his face twisted in exasperation as he runs a hand through thick green hair.

"Seteth, relax," you say with a gentle smile, "I figured it was all a bit..."

"Baseless conjecture is what it is- and heretical, at that," he says with disgust, crossing his arms and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Clearly I ought to have been more prompt in disposing of these particular texts."

You sympathize with his frustration, to be certain. Still. Your eyes can't help wandering up and down his frame before you and... you wonder.

"So... there's no truth to anything in there?" You step towards him and silently urge him to open his arms to you. He sighs and leans back against his desk with his hands gently at your waist.

"Nonsense, all of it- particularly that part about 'barren riverbeds' or some such." Despite his mood, his face flushes red at the reference to such claims on his own potent virility. You're not even fully conscious of the smirk spreading across your face, but you lean against him and run your hands slowly up his firm chest. Seteth has been rather demure about intimacy thus far. As of yet, you've hardly even seen beneath the starched collar of his robes. Perhaps this is the time to learn a little more about him.

"That book claims that you're the patron of fertility." you prod further. His chest rises as he inhales slowly, and you swear you can feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

"Yes, well- it was a... fringe belief several centuries past. I am- Saint Cichol is the only noted figure in the church known to have produced a child," you hum with interest, and by now, your body rests against his, and your hands have traveled down his torso. Seteth rambles on, glancing to the side and attempting the same tone he would use with a student, "the elemental association with the earth was also a factor, so I- I was... often prayed to for blessings of..."

One gentle hand reaches below his belt, and you gaze up at him for any sign of resistance or hesitation. He doesn't stop you, and doesn't look like he wants to. Your touch travels beneath his outer robes, between his thighs, where you immediately feel the heat of his manhood beginning to resist the confines of his clothing. You palm the impressive bulge, noting that even half-soft, he carries more than most men do at their full size. Seteth's posture stiffens, his eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. With an odd rasp in his throat, he whispers your name. Then, he pulls you close and kisses you with an intensity you'd always suspected he had in him somewhere.

As his lips press to yours, massaging yours slow and firm, your tongue grazes his, tentatively at first. He responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and running his tongue sensually against yours. You moan into his mouth, the friction between your bodies absolutely intoxicating, and your hand begins to stroke his manhood more firmly from atop the barrier of his clothing. His length hardens to your touch, growing in your hand as though to plead for more. Parting from his lips just enough to speak, you murmur,

"How long has it been since someone properly worshipped you, 'Saint Cichol?'"

Seteth's voice catches in his throat as he repeats,

"Worshipped...?"

Before he can question you further, you carefully lower onto your knees before him. Your touch is slow and indulgent as you enjoy the feeling of his now-massive cock straining against his pants. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him thoroughly transfixed by the sight of you prostrate beneath him, and your lips curl into a wolfish grin. Both of his hands come to grip the edge of the desk behind him as you part his robes and tug down the hem of his trousers.

The sight of that tower of flesh springing free to loom over you immediately sends urgent arousal flooding through your burning body, and you fail to hold in an excited whimper. Your pupils grow wide as you size him up with unabashed hunger in your gaze, and you can't even bring yourself to notice how tightly your fists are clenched around the front of his clothes.

"Goddess, Seteth-!" you gasp out, bringing a hand to wrap around his cock at the base, "You're so big...!"

He clears his throat, shyly turning his face away, as though he could possibly hide his conspicuous blush and flustered expression.

"I, er... thank you, I suppose..." he says softly.

"I can't even get my hand all the way around it..." you go on with evident awe in your voice. Slowly, savoring each impossibly thick inch, you slide your hand up the length of his shaft and down once more. Seteth inhales deeply. He must be rather sensitive; in fact, you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with someone intimately in some time.

"Are you... are you certain that you want this?" he asks, finally allowing his eyes to meet yours directly. You almost laugh.

"Seteth," you say as though scolding him, "I'd want to pleasure you regardless, but now that I know you have such an incredible cock, I can't think of anything I want more." He bites his bottom lip, his knuckles white as his fists clamp hard on the desk. Your smirk becomes only wider and more devious. Despite himself, he's clearly enjoying your praise.

"I can certainly see how this gorgeous cock would inspire... devotion, of a kind," you say, your hand traveling his length once more, this time merely to appreciate its shape and size. He groans softly, still fighting desperately to hold his voice in. With a feather-light touch, you run a single finger along the underside of his shaft, tracing a prominent, bulging vein. "I've never seen another that's even come close to yours, Seteth," you say, jerking your hand slightly at its base, "it almost seems a shame to keep it all to myself. Surely there are plenty who would like the chance to worship and adore their beloved Fertility God."

If your blaspheming bothers him any, he can't bring himself to reprimand you for it. Instead, he murmurs,

"I've no desire for any but you."

In reply, you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the crown of his cock. Seteth utters a shaky sigh of pleasure, and his length twitches subtly in reply. You raise your eyes to look up at your Saint.

"Can I taste it?"

"You may." he says softly. His stern brow is deeply creased with intense focus as you begin to work your lips around the head of his cock. It strikes you immediately how even wrapping your mouth around him only highlights how thoroughly this massive pillar puts any other to shame.

Seteth breathes out your name in a low, heated voice you've never heard from him before as you suck at his tip. Your lips seal around the ridge of his crown and you circle and flick him with your tongue, lapping at him all over until you feel his member throb for you. Each twitch and flex of his length is more powerful and more potent than the last, driving you to keep servicing him, to seek out those wonderful affirmations of pleasure.

By the time you dare to try taking him further into your mouth, your body leans against his legs, your hands clinging to his muscular thighs for leverage. Though, perhaps you've become over-eager; as you push yourself onto him, his cock burrows deeper and deeper, hitting your throat and then continuing to fill it. You struggle to open up for him as much as possible, grimacing as you fight your gag reflex. You're just barely past half of his full length, and he's pressing out against your throat enough to create a visible bulge. Seteth's body arches and his head tilts back as he groans your name. Then, you're forced to release him and come up for air.

Panting softly, you mutter,

"Damnit, I can't even reach the base."

"You... should not force yourself..." Seteth manages between strained breaths. As he steadies himself against the desk, you switch your focus for the time being. You begin at the root of his cock and drag your tongue up along the underside, following that same lovely vein you discovered earlier. With open adoration in your eyes, you go on to service him thoroughly with your tongue, licking and kissing every powerful, masculine inch of his rod. Then, when he's well and completely covered in your saliva, you grip the base and lead the tip to your mouth once more.

Dedicating yourself once more to your worship, you suck on his cock eagerly while steadily stroking what amount of it you can't reach in your hand. Your saliva slickens his shaft so that your hand can pump him steadily as your lips and tongue adore his tip in tandem. Seteth gasps aloud, his head leaning back once more to moan out his pleasure into the quiet of his quarters. Just once, you feel his hips buck toward you just a little- but he grits his teeth and holds himself in place, evidently worried for your comfort even now.

You increase your pace, wrapping your mouth tight and warm and wet around his enormous member, ever encouraged by Seteth's beautiful moans. Your tongue presses along the bottom of his shaft, causing him to rub firmly along the top of your mouth with every pass, and by now, you've even surprised yourself with your near obsessive desire to please him. Perhaps there was something to this "Fertility God" angle after all.

"If you... if you don't stop, I-!" Seteth bucks against you once more, and once more he fights to keep himself still, "I won't... be able to hold back...!"

Needing a way to assuage his doubts without pulling away from your sacred duties, you redouble your efforts instead. You take his thick cock into your throat until it hurts, threatening to make you choke each time you force yourself onto him, but you hold fast. The full length swells and throbs from tip to base, and Seteth is crying out your name like a plea. The strength of his grip actually causes the desk supporting him to creak, but you can't be bothered to care- you need him to cum for you, you're desperate for it.

Then, finally, with a tortured groan and a few choice words you didn't realize Seteth had in his vocabulary, his body trembles and his orgasm takes hold of him. Thick, hot cum pours into your throat, and you immediately swallow the first couple of shots, but it's not long before you're completely overwhelmed. Perhaps you should have eased up, rather than continuing to stroke and milk him with your free hand, but the dizzying thrill of his climax seems to be affecting you as well. When you simply can't take any more of him in your mouth, you pull away and allow him to spill the rest across your chest.

You look up at him from your worshipful position beneath him. You imagine you make for a sinful sight, subservient to his cock and now a mess of saliva and cum. And there is a moment- a brief, fleeting moment- when you can see something fiery and animalistic in Seteth's gaze as he regains himself enough to check on you. Yet he quickly suppresses it, and says,

"I- I apologize, I allowed myself to get carried away, and-"

"Seteth, please," you say with a laugh as you shakily rise to your feet, "it's just a bit of cleanup. A small price to pay for the chance to finally pleasure you."

He smiles sheepishly in return, helping to steady you, then placing a light kiss to your lips.

"I hadn't realized that you were so eager for the opportunity," he says, stroking a lock of your hair back into place, "If you will allow, I'd be honored to clean you up a bit and then return the favor."

"That sounds positively divine." you reply, and you're swiftly lifted into Seteth's arms and carried towards his private bath. Your knees still ache from the hardwood floor, but you hardly consider it for a moment. You're already looking forward to the next opportunity to show your devotion to your Saint.

[barbarianprncess]

of these rushing waves

(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)

(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)

read on ao3

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.

(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)

They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.

Almost.

“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.

He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.

“Know what?”

“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.

“Have you been worrying about this?”

Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.

“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”

Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.

“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.

“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’

He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”

She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”

He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.

He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.

“It’s you, Annabeth.”

He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.

“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.

He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.  

“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”

She glares daggers.

He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.

“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.

“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.

“Out.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.

...

She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.

She researches.

And researches.

And nothing.

She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.

And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.

She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).

Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.

“It’s you.”

She hates him.

...

It’s three more days before she figures it out.

Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.

“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.

“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet,  “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”

“Ok.”

“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”

He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”

Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.

“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”

She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…

Is that humor in his eyes?  

“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”

“Like a sort of anchor.”

“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”

He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.  

“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.

“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”

Oh.

Oh.

“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It’s you.”

…

She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.

...

It’s her.

...

By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.

Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.

“You ok?”

“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.

“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.

“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.

He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”

She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.

“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”

He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”

She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.

“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.

“On the bridge?”

“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”

She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.

“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”

She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.

He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.

“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”

Annabeth is stunned into silence.

She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.

She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.

He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.

When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.

She thinks she’d like that.

Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone.  They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.

...

[yoonpobs]

difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I—can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you’re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

+

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV 

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.” 

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed. 

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.” 

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”  

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.” 

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.” 

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room. 

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended. 

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober. 

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.” 

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance. 

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat. 

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.” 

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin. 

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.” 

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression. 

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?” 

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

The Princess who became a swan pt2

You had a look of displeasure as you were forced to sit on Kars lap as he stroked your hair while reading a book. Occasionally you would shift your leg only to hear the chains rattle.

“Dear swan, are you so eager to leave the nest?” Kars asked in his usual condescending tone. You merely huffed as you sat on the cold marble floor.

“Are you mad about the cage? I can assure you that it’s for your safety, I can’t have you nearly killed again” he cooed as he reached for your shoulder only to have you slap it.

“Sometimes in hindsight I think to myself that maybe I should have let him kill me, I’d have rather that than have you degrade me further like this…” you spoke with venom in your words.

“I promise you I’ll leave someday… and I’ll never come back to this hell” you continued which he responded with a smirk.

“You really are such a brat, I offer you protection and heal your wound and you repay me by spitting it right back in my face” he spoke as he normally did, however the sudden tense atmosphere made you regret what you said.

“Even if you were to leave I know you’ll come back, where else do you have to go?” he chuckled as his crimson eyes pierced your soul.

“You have the stupidity to speak so venomously to me, yet you cower when I acknowledge your words” he continued before grabbing you from the back of your head.

“You really shouldn't keep trying to push me away, because if you do… then you’ll have no one”

🦢🦢🦢

For days and days Joseph couldn’t help but think about the maiden in the forest. He talked and talked about her refined features to his rivaling knight. As more days passed he heard talks between his Mother and various officials from kingdoms near and far in arrangement of a soiree and the mentioning of finding someone to marry him off to.

He knew in his heart that he had to find her again as he couldn’t bare the thought of another woman, so for many days and nights he searched the land in hopes to find her but with no luck of seeing the maiden in white he’d seen on that fateful night, perhaps she was a woman of the wind only to vanish and never return.

As the soiree approached his hopes grew less but he was too stubborn to give up anything he started.

🦢🦢🦢

You waited inside of a golden cage, shaking it as you flapped your wings in anger as you saw Kars return. If he had been a moment later your human form would have been mangled inside of it but he had no care for your wellbeing as you were merely a pet or at worst an object in his eyes.

“Oh I’m dearly sorry my swan, you must have been so restless for my return” he spoke as if he was making his words sound like some vague attempt at an apology. He finally opened the lock and let you free from your small cell into the bigger one you had been confined in for so long.

You looked back up at the moon through the window with a heavy heart as you returned to your human form. Then a bright idea sparked in your mind before you ran up to Kars and wrapped your arms around him, he was surprised but enjoyed the sudden affection.

“Oh yes I have my love... for I have realized how harsh I’ve treated you, my one and only” you spoke with crocodile tears in your eyes. He looked down on you and smiled but did not let his guard down as he was cautious of what malice intentions were hidden behind your teary eyes.

For days you held up your act as much as it sickened you deep down like a bitter poison. letting his hands touch you in a way that made your skin crawl as he wished and returning such words of affection that made you want to gag on them.

As you sat beside him letting his fingers brush through your hair while reading one of the many books in his collections you finally decided to fulfill your plans now that you were no longer in chains.

“I’m parched, do you want a cup of tea made while I make some for myself” you asked knowing that he hadn’t had a drink for quite some time.

“Yes my swan, I’d enjoy that” he replied, still paying attention to his book. You looked to the window and saw that it was not long to sunrise before heading to the kitchen and heating some water over a fire. You grabbed a pair of fine porcelain tea cups and placing them on a tray, you fiddled you hand in the pocket of your dress before grabbing a vial filled with a white powder and pouring it’s contents into one of the cups and in the other you added a teaspoon of dried petals from various flowers.

As the water had finished boiling you added the tea leaves to his cup. Adding the water you carefully stirred the sleeping powder into his drink, making sure the powder fully dissolved into the tea before adding the rest of the water into your cup. You returned to him with the tray in hand and placed it on the coffee table beside him. You picked up your cup and sat beside him.

As you let your tea cool in your hands you tried not to look at him, the anticipation was too much. You kept looking in the corner of your eye to take a sip.

“Why do you keep glancing at me like that?” he asked as he noticed your strange behaviour.

“I’m just a little anxious… It’ll be morning soon and you’ll probably throw me in that cage again…” you muttered before finally taking a sip of your tea.

“Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on you my swan, you’ve been so well behaved that I think it is only fair that you have the privilege to sleep beside me” he spoke as his fingers twirled the strands of your hair before taking a sip of tea. He noticed a bitterness on his palette as he drank it, he gave you a glance but spoke no more words.

Eventually he finished the cup and continued to read for a few minutes before he was overcome by sleep. You sat up and took a few soft steps before running as fast as you could to escape from his domain into the darkness of the last hours of night. Where heavy clouds passed through the tall, old trees. Thunder roared in the distance, warning those of it's fast journey forward towards them.

🦢🦢🦢

As morning arrived the rain pelted down against your wings unforgivingly as you tried to fly below the blackened clouds. You grew tired as you had flown for hours, yet your stomach ached knowing that you were still within Kars reach. By now he would have woken up and caught on to what you had pulled on him.

You found yourself succumbing to exhaustion, your body dipping lower as your eyelids grew heavy. You finally decided to take cover in the forest below. You found an old, hollowed tree and nested yourself inside it to take shelter while you regained your strength.

As you slept you dreamt of many fantasies both good and bad, your wishes of reuniting with your family came to fruition only to be snatched away by the nightmares of Kars tormenting you through your existence. The lines between dream and nightmare overlapped so many times that it became disorientating.

You heard an incoherent voice that aroused you from your deep slumber. You rubbed your eyes before opening them even then your vision was still a blur.

The first thing you noticed was the bright moon that made the figure in front of you a mere silhouette before your vision cleared enough to reveal the man who had shot you with the arrow.

You cowered back a bit in fear of the male, unintentionally letting out a squeak.

"Aww are you a scared little mouse" he snarky commented with a slight chuckle, loosely reminiscent of how Kars mocked you. Your expression turned sour as you looked at him, which made him avoid direct eye contact.

"Ok ok, I'm sorry… don't take it like that" he responded before holding out his hand to help you up.

"I was wondering what happened to you that other night, you were in a real hurry with that arrow in your arm" he said as he waited for you to take his hand, which you reluctantly did.

"You should at least say something, it's rude to not respond when a prince is talking to you" he commented as he didn't like it when others ignored him.

"At least give me your name" he continued as he pinched your cheek. You pulled away before you finally spoke.

"I don't want to tell you my name" you hissed in response. Sure it seemed harsh but if word were to spread about your emergence it would break your heart. You couldn't bring yourself to show yourself to your parents and explain what happened since your Disappearance, or the consequences that Kars would condemn you to.

In your thoughts Joseph could see your expression soften and reveal the sadness in your dazzling eyes. He pitied you for that, how such a beauty could wear such a morbid look was criminal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the male tapped the tip of your nose while exclaiming bop in a goofy manner.

You were taken back by his action, maybe just because you've been starved of touch from the others in the world. He laughed at your confused reaction.

“What’s so funny?” you asked him as you frowned. He chuckled as he ruffled your head.

“You’re really uptight for someone who hides out in the woods at night” he commented.

"Well I have my reasons" you sternly replied as you folded your arms.

"What, are you an escaped convict or something? Have you got a bunch of bandits hiding in the trees ready to strike me down" he mocked as he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I wish, all you need to know is that I'm a fugitive and I don't have a lot of time to waste dilly dallying with an egocentric jerk like you, now if you excuse me I have to get back on my journey" you explained through a clenched jaw as you tried to storm of only for him to grab your wrist.

"Aw come on, I didn't mean for you to get the wrong idea… if you need help I can give it to you, how about I take you back to my castle? I can make sure whatever you're trying to get away from doesn't find you" he offered but you shook your head profusely as you pulled your hand away from him.

"No, I can't… it's impossible" you replied abruptly.

"Why-" he was going to ask before you cut him off.

"Because I can't…" you said bluntly as you put your hands on your hips.

"Well whatever is going on with you I can Help… I promise you, just tell me what you want?" He said as looked at you with such a needy attitude.

"Perhaps you could bring me some food, it's rather hard forging in the woods" you said, when you offered an inch he took a mile.

"Of course I'll bring you some food, I'll bring you some every night" he offered before realising how late he'd been out.

"I should probably head back home now my swan, tomorrow I'll return" he said as he kissed you on the cheek before leaving you alone once more. He thought calling you his swan was endearing but it only made you since as it reminded you of who you had escaped.

He seemed absolutely infatuated with you. It clicked in your mind that maybe if you loosened up to him, maybe he would vow his love to you.

As written in Kars notes the victim must have another that is unaware of the curse proclaim their love to them and keep their promise til they wed. All you needed was to keep up the loving act until you married him and hide the curse.

[ifmywishescametrue]

WAIT I DIDNT KNOW YOU SHIPPED SAMTONY TOO!!! another oneeee #13 "I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you." for samtony

samtony is a very pure ship 😌 thank you for sending a prompt, and I hope you like it!

It starts on a perfectly average Tuesday morning.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Sam pants out, folding himself in half with his hands on his knees. “Every damn time I say it's the last time, and every damn time here we are again.”

Bucky claps a hand on his back and almost knocks him over with one touch. “Maybe you're a masochist, Sammy.”

Sam feebly flips him off, walking off the elevator on jelly legs. “I told you not to call me that.”

“You let Tony call you that,” Bucky points out, following him towards the kitchen.

"I actually like him. We're friends."

“That's offensive. I'm literally your best friend. Your favorite person. The Abbott to your Costello. The Tom to your Jerry. The Lucy to your Ethel.”

Sam snorts, “You're not even my favorite hundred year old man in this building. Also, if anyone’s the Lucy here, it’s me.”

Bucky scoffs, but whatever retort he had coming cuts off when they enter the kitchen. “Oh, damn, are those banana pancakes?”

He reaches for one on the top of the stack, and Tony slaps his hand away with the spatula. “Where are your manners, Barnes?”

“You’ve got like ten there,” Bucky whines. “Why can’t I have one?”

“You can have one when it’s your turn.”

Bucky gives him a dramatic pout that has no effect, and Sam laughs at the scene as he collapses into the stool next to Nat at the peninsula. She gives him a raised eyebrow and a quirked lip at the complete lack of grace.

Tony flits through the kitchen, exchanging lighthearted quips with Bucky as he goes. He has on an apron that Clint gave him at Christmas last year, covered in snowflakes and purple hearts with arrows through them in a mimicry of an ugly Christmas sweater pattern. Underneath it is a t-shirt dotted with Captain America shields, and the sweatpants have a cartoon version of the War Machine suit on the thigh. As usual, all of the colors clash.

A mug of coffee is placed in front of Sam with a small smile before Tony returns to the stove, and Sam is still drinking the first sip when he comes back with a plate of pancakes for him, topped with just the right amount of syrup and a dollop of whipped cream. Tony’s gone again before he can even finish saying thank you.

“Why is it his turn before me?” Bucky complains, and Sam laughs again through his first mouthful at how petulant he sounds.

“I like him the best,” Tony says, sending a wink Sam’s way. “And they’re for him, anyway. Your favorite, right?”

Sam’s eyes widen a bit in surprise. He doesn’t remember telling him that. “Uh, yeah, they are. How’d you know that?”

Tony shrugs, “I pay attention.”

He hands Bucky a plate of pancakes with another jab at his lack of patience, and the moment passes as quickly as it came, but it keeps happening after that.

Tony pays attention to him.

Maybe it was happening all along, before that morning with the pancakes, but just too subtle for Sam to take notice at first. Now that he has, though, he sees it all the time.

The next is just a few days later, when Tony knocks on his door holding a small, nondescript black box.

“What’s this for?” Sam asks, taking it from Tony’s hand. He doesn’t get an answer before he opens the lid to a simple, leather-banded watch. It’s nothing overtly expensive, nothing that screams ‘gift from a billionaire,’ but it is exactly something Sam would have chosen for himself.

“I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you,” Tony says simply. “Figured it would go well with that suit Pepper picked for you for the gala tomorrow night.”

Later, Sam will realize that Pepper had nothing to do with the suit choice that fit him perfectly, but for now he runs a thumb over the dark brown leather and says, “Yeah, it will. Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem,” Tony replies, and he lingers in the doorway for a while longer, lower lip between his teeth. Sam is about to ask if there was something else he came here for when Tony claps his hands together and says, “Well, I should get going. Workshop things to do and all that. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He disappears quickly, and that becomes part of it, too. Never dwelling on it when he does something just for Sam. Fleeing if he can, but sometimes staying when that’s what Sam needs instead.

“You look exhausted,” Tony says, and Sam manages a grumble from where he’s slumped on the living room couch, rubbing a hand over his bruised abdomen.

The mission took longer than either him or Bucky expected, and the fights were more intense. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out type of deal. Infiltrate the base, take out the lower level minions, and apprehend the leaders. But the intel wasn’t as accurate as they were hoping, and there were nearly double the number of enemies than predicted. No major injuries for either of them, but he’ll be sore for at least a few days. Bucky’s cuts and bruises healed on the way home.

Sam doesn’t notice that Tony left until he comes back with ice wrapped in a kitchen towel. He places the ice right on the worst spot over his ribs, holding it there until Sam replaces his hand with his own.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Tony remarks. “You should probably head up to bed. You’ll feel even worse if you fall asleep here, trust me on that one.”

It’s somewhere past midnight, Sam knows, but even with how tired his body is, his mind is still wide awake. The mission replays in his mind. Every faulty move, every chance to do better, every little detail both good and bad.

Sam shakes his head, “Not ready for bed yet.”

Tony takes the seat next to him, leaving an inch of space between them. “J, turn on the Saints game from yesterday.”

Sam smiles a little and asks, “Do you even like football?”

“It’s not the worst sport,” Tony replies vaguely. He settles back into the cushions and pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover them both.

“Yeah, what’s the best?”

Completely serious, Tony says, “Ping pong.”

Sam laughs, “That’s not a real sport. Pick something else.”

“Of course it’s real. It’s in the Olympics and everything,” Tony grins. “Give me one good reason it’s not a sport.”

“Alright, fine, maybe it’s real, but there’s no way it’s your favorite.”

Tony shrugs, “It’s entertaining sometimes. The professionals get really into it. There’s an awful lot of grunting involved.”

They stay up for a while longer, talking about nothing of importance, and Tony slowly shifts closer to him until that bit of distance is gone. His arm presses up against him, and Sam starts to have a hard time keeping his eyes open, it seems only natural to rest his head against Tony’s shoulder.

“You can go to bed,” Sam murmurs. “You don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I don’t mind,” Tony whispers back.

Sam does regret it a bit when he wakes up on the couch in the morning with a sore back, but there’s a fresh mug of coffee already waiting for him on the table, still warm and exactly how he likes it, and he smiles to himself anyway. That night is a shift to something different, and he knows it right away.

He starts to pay more attention to Tony’s interactions with everyone else, just in case he’s part of the rule and not the exception. Generosity is one of Tony’s best traits, but even so it tends to extend even further to him. More personal and frequent.

“So there’s this place in Brooklyn that claims to have the most authentic cajun cuisine outside of New Orleans. Want to come with me? Tell me if it’s true?”

It isn’t true, and Tony comes to him the next day with another one, until they’re on a quest together to find one that doesn’t make Sam miss home after just one bite. It takes them all over the city and into Jersey once or twice, and Sam doesn’t point out that Tony doesn’t even seem to like crawfish, no matter where it comes from. He doesn’t want it to be over if he does.

“This is pretty close,” Sam says. He thinks it might be place number eleven, but he lost count a while back. “Could use a little more spice, but at least they didn’t try to add their own spin to it.”

Tony’s watery eyes widen. “This isn’t spicy enough for you?”

Sam grins and shakes his head. “Remind me to bring you with me the next time I go home. You won’t know what hit you.”

Tony’s face does something complicated at that, before it settles on a soft smile. “Yeah, that would be fun.”

Sam fully gets it then, what exactly it all means, but he doesn’t quite know what he wants to do about it yet. Tony has taken up residence in a place in his heart that he wasn’t sure was capable of opening up anymore. He did it so easily, sneaking in like a thief in the night and catching Sam unaware.

Now the sound of Tony’s laugh makes his stomach flip. He seeks it out, telling him stupid stories and jokes to make it happen more. He stares a little too much to catch glimpses of his smile, and now he can see just how often Tony looks back.

It isn’t subtle anymore, this thing between them. Lingering looks, too long touches, and every quiet gesture all build up. Bucky teases him and Natasha gives him knowing looks. Steve tells him that he hopes they make each other happy, and Sam doesn’t tell him that nothing has happened between them like that. They’re still just friends, and they don’t talk about what any of it means.

“Do you want to see a movie with me tonight? There’s that weird one with the killer robots playing downtown,” Sam suggests, and neither of them say anything when Tony slips his hand into his in the darkness of the theater. It goes unmentioned, too, when Sam holds tight after Tony almost lets go when they reach the sidewalk afterwards.

It’s another late night when the last piece finally falls into place.

Sam is nursing bruised ribs again after another mission that turned a little sideways through no one’s fault. He’s still sweaty, dirt under his fingernails and dried blood caked around a shallow cut on his cheek, but Sam still asks JARVIS in the elevator to take him to wherever Tony is. It isn’t as surprising as it should be that Tony is waiting for him on the edge of Sam’s bed.

He stands there patiently while Tony looks him over, and he looks his fill in return. It’s strange how days away from him feel longer now. His balance is off center until Tony is around to set him right again.

“I missed you,” Sam murmurs, and Tony smiles softly.

“You were only gone a couple of days,” he points out, but Sam knows now that it’s his way of saying that he missed him just as much.

Normally, Sam would let it move on from here. Tony would lead him into the bathroom, gently clean up his scrapes, and click his tongue at every bruise. It would end with them on the couch, Sam’s head in Tony’s lap or vice versa, depending on what mood it takes. Sometimes he wants to hold Tony and remember that he survived another fight so he could come home to this, and sometimes he needs to be held to forget about everything else that was lost along the way.

But tonight he reaches out to grasp Tony’s hip, and he draws him in a little closer. The room is dimly lit, and each shadow on Tony’s face is accentuated. Sam can’t remember quite the first time he looked at him and thought the word ‘beautiful,’ but it’s all he’s thinking now.

“You love me,” Sam says. “For a long time now, right?”

Tony nods, and he wraps his arms around Sam’s waist, careful not to hold too tight. “You caught up eventually. Didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

Sam smiles, cupping Tony’s face in one palm and stroking his thumb across his cheekbone. “How long were you expecting?”

“Maybe never,” Tony admits. “I would’ve kept trying, though.”

“Stay with me tonight?” Sam asks, because nothing more needs to be said for now. They both already know.

“How about every night?”

Sam leans in slowly, murmuring against his lips, “Sounds like a plan.”

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

 ---

 “This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?” 

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

 ---

 “So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

 ---

 “See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

[monstersandmaw]

Male vampire x male character (nsfw) Part Four

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Sorry for taking 84yrs to post this. I thought I had shared it. Sorry. Hope you enjoy all the same.

Wordcount: 10,904 (story total: 23,704)

Heads up in this part for continued, but easing, tense familial relations, some angst/heartache (not heartbreak though), and some (consensual) blood drinking.

Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw), Part Three (nsfw)

Alec let out a shaky breath and crossed to the sofa, sinking down onto it as his legs finally gave out. “Vampires,” he said, hardly daring to believe the word he was uttering.

“Yes.”

“And you’re one?”

“… Yes.”

“And my family…?”

Sebastien’s voice was tight on the other end of the line as he said, “Hunts my kind. Well, those of us who aren’t registered with the ‘Guild of Hunters’ —” his tone turned acrid as he spat the words out, though he kept his voice low and quiet.

“What does that even mean? I don’t know what any of this means… And did you know about my family? I mean, before? When you started dating me?”

Sebastien took another deep breath. “Yes. I knew. And it was a long time before I fully convinced myself that you did not.”

If Sebastien had thought it was some kind of trap, that would explain his reticence at the beginning for sure.

“And were you planning on telling me any of this?” Alec snarled. God, his chest hurt so much. The deception was like Jeremy cheating on him all over again, only this time the betrayal was coming from two fronts at once: from his love life and from his family. Not that he’d had all that solid a relationship with the latter to start with. Perhaps this explained why.

“I hadn’t planned on becoming your boyfriend at all,” Sebastien snapped.

“So, what, I was just a quick diversion? A casual fuck you kept coming back for because I’m such a fucking chump? Is that it?”

“No,” Sebastien sighed. “Not at all. I fell for you. Like the horrid cliche I am, the vampire fell for the hunter, and by then I had no idea how to tell you. I’ve not been with a human before, so this is all very new to me.”

Alec ran his fingers through his dark hair to buy himself a moment. “You… You haven’t?”

“No.”

“How… How old are you?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

“Yes!” His phone was slippery in his fingers now from the sweat on his palm but he couldn’t bring it away from his ear long enough to put it on speaker. He needed answers.

With another cavernous sigh, Sebastien said hurriedly, “Very well. I was born in 1897 and turned on the battlefields of the Great War — World War I, that is. I was dying, and a vampire named Felicity who had been working as a field nurse turned me. My first run-in with your family was not long after I moved from France to America. They were working with the American Hunters’ Guild on a case which had nothing to do with me.” He let out a shaky breath and said, “I got in the way and I nearly died. Those were the days before the treaty, of course, and before I moved to England.”

Despite his still-spinning mind, Alec managed to croak, “What treaty?”

“Those of us who get our blood from sanctioned blood banks and do not live-feed are exempt from being hunted like animals.” He spoke like he was quoting from a law code; cold and clinical; detached.

God, the way he said it made Alec’s skin crawl. It was as if he were being permitted to exist on the grounds of good behaviour and, he supposed, that was exactly the case. Even so, Alec couldn’t help the next words that just fell out of his mouth. “So you weren’t planning on feeding from me?”

“Of course not,” Sebastien retorted but then appeared to rein himself in with yet another steadying inhale. “No. It’s been decades since I’ve fed from a human directly. I didn’t plan on starting with you.”

Alec slumped back into the sofa cushions and stared up at the ceiling of his tiny apartment. “Fuck.”

After a long silence, Sebastien’s gentle tenor sounded in his ear. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve never been close to my family - my dad was always an arsehole, but… I can’t believe Theo’s involved in all this. He was such a sweet kid, and we were really close until…” he swallowed thickly around the rising lump in his throat.

“Until?” Sebastien prompted when he stalled again.

“I can’t believe this is all real,” he muttered. “Until he turned sixteen and started to ‘work out’ with dad. I was at uni by then, getting my fine art degree, but whenever I came home he was just… different. Harder. Sharper. More focused. Guess it makes sense now… Well, as much as… you know…” he gestured vaguely to the empty apartment with his hands, “… as much as all this can make sense. Fucking… vampires…”

After a heartbeat, Sebastien added softly, “Quite literally.”

Despite himself, Alec snorted. “So… where does this leave us?”

Now it was Sebastien’s turn to feel clearly uncomfortable. Eventually he said, “Alec, I don’t think it’s wise for me to see you currently. Not with your family being what they are.”

His heart twisted, even though he’d been half expecting it. “You still think they’d… what, stake you, or whatever it is that vampire hunters actually do to you lot?”

“There are many ways to kill a vampire,” he said flatly. “And your family knows all of them, probably more. You need to work this out with them first as well. Talk to your brother. He seems the more reasonable…”

“I can’t believe Ellie’s in on it as well. And my mother? Fuck…”

“Talk to them.”

“Will I still see you at work at least?”

The awkward silence told him all he needed to know, even before Sebastien said, “I just sent in my letter of resignation.”

“That was quick,” he hissed, stomach dropping. “You only just left.”

“Supernatural speed,” he replied bitterly. “Comes in useful for typing papers and getting out of awkward situations…”

That sparked another question in him. “Supernatural powers, huh? Can you turn into a bat too?”

“No.”

Then he thought of Sebastien’s Halloween outfit. “Wolf?”

He thought he detected a faint smirk in Sebastien’s response. “No, sadly. No shape-shifting for me. Felicity is not of any extraordinary bloodline, and thus, neither am I.”

“Right,” he grunted. “Of course. Is she… is she still around?”

“Felicity? Yes. We meet every now and again. She and her wife spend most of their time in Venice these days.”

“Her wife? She a vampire too?”

Sebastien swallowed audibly. “Yes.”

“Did Felicity turn her too? Would that make her wife your sister?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Did she know her as a human though?”

“Yes.”

After a moment of spinning thoughts, Alec asked, “Did… you turn her?”

“One doesn’t tend to turn one’s own intended. Between a sire and their turned, there can grow… tension. Not always, but it can be enough to ruin a relationship that was seemingly solid before. Something about exchanging blood changes the soul… or so we think, anyway. It was an honour to be asked to sire her.”

“Right.” Alec felt slightly sick. “Will I at least see you before you leave?”

“I think it best if we don’t. Not while your family is still… ‘investigating’ me.”

“Are you really in danger from them?”

“Quite possibly. My name is on the treaty, but…”

Something twanged painfully again in his chest, swiftly followed by the fizzle of fear through his veins. “But what?”

“But vampires and hunters are not supposed to sleep together, Alec…”

“Don’t bang the enemy? How very Romeo and Juliet,” he snorted. “Fuck. Why does every good relationship I have turn to shit?” he asked, not of Sebastien but of the universe itself. “What did I do?”

“Alec —”

“—Don’t. Don’t make it worse by apologising or something. It’s fine. We were only together a month. I’ll get over it. You’ll move on. Heck, you’ll fucking live forever, right? What’s a month to you anyway? Nothing, right?”

The bitterness in his own voice nearly choked him, and without thinking, or even saying goodbye, he just hung up and let his phone lie in his limp fingers on the sofa cushions. It lit up and rang a moment later, but he didn’t answer it. Six more times Sebastien tried before finally giving up.

Kay was an absolute blessing in the next few days.

He didn’t tell her immediately about the whole vampire thing, but after he’d calmed down enough to be able to look at Theo without immediately busting a vein in his forehead, he hashed the basics out with him, and then told her everything. Alec told her about his newly-discovered, secret family occupation which, apparently, stretched back centuries. He told her about the fact that his eldest sister and younger brother were monster hunters in their spare time, and he told her the real reason Sebastien why had vanished overnight without a trace — yes, Alec had gone to his apartment building, only to be politely informed by the doorman that Dr. Dulac was no longer in residence and did not leave so much as a forwarding address.

That, above almost everything else, shattered Alec’s hopes of seeing him again. Like thistledown in the wind, Sebastien had simply flitted away somewhere else.

She took it about as well as he had to start with, but when she saw the seriousness in his eyes, and when, three weekends later, she came to his apartment for a definitely-not-awkward dinner with Theo, she saw video footage that Theo and his father had captured from various hunts of supernatural creatures beyond only beautiful vampires. Then she believed him. Ghouls, ghosts, reanimated corpses, demons… you name it and Theo could tell you about it.

Alec spent Christmas with Kay’s family, and Theo met him for New Year drinks in the city, joined by Ellie. It wasn’t anything like the family dynamic he’d always longed for, but the new degree of openness between them went some way to mending his still bruised heart. Slowly. Gradually. Piece by tentative, honest piece. He never joined in, but Theo started to tell him a bit about what they did. It still sounded barbaric to him, but at least it was true.

He had no word from Sebastien, and the number he had saved in his phone had been disconnected.

With the arrival of spring, Alec found himself more than usually dissatisfied with his job. He was a good teacher, and he enjoyed seeing his students’ talents evolve and grow, but the ever-increasing admin ground him down, and the politics of the faculty and the university as a whole wore on him.

“Have you seen this?” Kay asked one afternoon as they shared a takeaway coffee beneath the drifting cherry blossoms. Petals spiralled down like pastel pink and white wedding confetti, and he watched with an absent smile as a terrier snapped and sprung around on his hind legs trying to catch them while his owner stood and talked with her friend nearby. “Oi!” Kay asked, digging him in the ribs.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen this?” she asked, shoving her phone under his nose.

He blinked, refocusing his eyes, and read the article’s headline aloud. “Council offers artists the chance to win a sponsored exhibition in the town hall with this unique competition.” He blinked. “So?”

“So?” she gawped. “You can’t be serious?”

“Send me the link. I’ll forward it to my students. They might like that.” That earned him a smack upside the head, and he scowled. “What was that for?”

“Alec, you might be the dumbest smart guy I know,” she said. “I showed it to you so that you could enter it, you giant idiot.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“I saw those charcoals you did the other week of the cathedral! They were amazing!! And the abstracts too… I still want one, by the way.”

“It’s already wrapped up for your birthday,” he groused. “You really think I should do it?”

She rolled her eyes and drained the last of her coffee without gracing him with an answer. Of course she thought he should.

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next Thursday,” she said without looking at him.

Alec licked his lips and swallowed. “Will you help me pick some images to submit?”

Her answering grin was feral.

In all honesty, Alec forgot about having even entered the competition until the letter dropped through his door six weeks later announcing that, to his utter astonishment, he had been selected as the winner. Tears blurred his eyes and he sat down heavily at the tiny kitchen table. He’d never entered any of his own art into anything like this in his whole life, and the first time he does, he gets a whole fucking public exhibition out of it?

“Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all,” he murmured. “New year, new start…” His chest still ached when he thought about Sebastien, and he hoped he was doing alright, wherever he was.

Theo had been searching for him, probably by way of apology for lying to his big brother for all these years, but he’d turned up very little. Sebastien had gone to Venice first, it seemed, presumably to spend time with Felicity and her wife, but had disappeared completely after that, with only rumours flickering here and there that he was in Paris, St. Petersburg, Prague, and then potentially Florence. Maybe.

“Venice seems like a pretty sunny place for a pair of vampires to live,” Alec commented, but Theo shrugged.

“They don’t burn up immediately in sunlight, or your professor would never have been able to take a day-job at the university. They’re sensitive to it, some more than others, but it takes a full day of constant sunlight beating down for them to burn properly.” The callousness of his brother’s response shook him, even after all these months, and Theo must have seen it on his face because he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then added, “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Alec shrugged. Yes, he wanted to say. I thought so. “I only knew him for a month or so,” was what he said carefully instead. “And even then… turned out I didn’t know him anyway.”

Theo, who had been lounging on Alec’s sofa with his legs spread and his head tipped back into the cushions while Alec made supper, asked quietly, “Did he seem… normal to you?”

“Normal?” Alec asked, not sure he’d heard his brother correctly.

“Yeah… like… did you ever suspect he wasn’t… you know…?”

“Human?”

Theo grunted and nodded his head. “Yeah. I guess.”

“No. Obviously not. Never crossed my mind. Why would it have?”

Theo scowled and turned his eyes to regard him. Alec knew that Theo looked like a younger version of himself, if maybe in better shape, and he wondered if he’d have the same steely look in his eyes if he’d been deemed ‘man enough’ to become a hunter, or whatever bullshit criteria their arsehole father had used to select which members of his family were to become soldiers and which would live normal lives.

“What?” Alec demanded.

“But you slept with him, right?”

“I’m not talking about that with you,” he said, briefly brandishing the wooden spoon at him.

Theo pulled a face. “I’m not asking about your sex life. Gross. No, I mean…”

In that moment, Alec spotted a flash of something in his brother’s blue eyes that softened him to the kid. He turned off the gas and went over to where Theo was now sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. When he looked up at Alec’s approach, his face showed open vulnerability in a way he’d not seen since they were young children and Theo had got himself into trouble at school.

“What’s going on?” Alec asked, seating himself next to his little brother.

Theo bobbed his knee like a deprived caffeine addict and bit his lip. With glassy eyes, he croaked, “I keep asking myself if we did the right thing…”

“What do you mean?”

The bravado of Theo’s early twenties melted away to become a worried, frightened, guilty little boy again and he said, “I mean… if what we do is right…”

“You mean… hunting?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“What set this off?”

His brother quirked him a humourless smirk and said, “You always did know when something was bothering me.”

Alec remained quiet, just watching him.

“We teamed up with some hunters from Edinburgh for a ‘vamp gone rogue’ case and we finally found her yesterday. She… She’d been turning people; trying to amass some kind of small army to take over from another vampire further up north. She was insane… like, completely, sociopathically insane, but… the people she turned… they were just…” he blinked, and Alec saw with a jolt that his eyes were full of unshed tears. “They were still just people.”

He feared he already knew where this was going. Still, he asked, “What happened?”

“Father wanted to put them down. They were terrified, chained up… still on the point of lashing out…”

Bile rose in his throat. “Oh god…”

“One of the hunters said she knew of a vampire who could help rehabilitate them; help them adjust to their new lives. One of them didn’t want to live as a vampire though, so father just…”

Theo didn’t need to finish that for Alec to know that father had ended the newly-turned vampire’s life in a heartbeat. “And the rest?”

“The other three went with the hunter. I don’t know what happened, but… I trust her. It’s just… father taught me and Ellie that vampires are mindless killers when they feed… that you can’t get close to them, that all they want at the end of the day is blood no matter what they tell you…  but…” he looked up at Alec. “You’ve been fucking miserable since the whole Sebastien shit-fest. I know you’ve been trying to hide it, and you’ve got the exhibition coming up next weekend, and that’s great, but… I know you’ve stopped putting yourself out there. And we did that. We fucked it all up for you. I just…” he ran his hands through his hair and sent it into wild disarray. “I just wonder if you could really have been happy with him after all.”

Alec pulled his brother close and hugged him. “I’m not going to lie,” he murmured into his brother’s dark hair. “I’m furious with father for keeping everything from me, and for making you and mum and Ellie lie to me and Angie about it as well, but… if I hadn’t seen Sebastien’s eyes go red — yeah, I thought it was just a reflection or something — and if I hadn’t seen the way he sleeps literally like the dead… I’m not sure I would have believed you anyway. I don’t forgive him for it either, but…” he sighed deeply. “I forgive you, Theo. And Ellie.”

“And mum?”

“I’m still working on that.”

Theo went slack beneath him and snaked his arms around his brother’s waist for a moment. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Alec’s shirt.

“You’re still coming to the exhibition?” Alec asked as he pulled back and went back to the stove, giving Theo a moment of privacy to pull himself together.

In truth, Alec was a little shaken too. Their relationship had been slowly patched over the intervening months, but it still wasn’t particularly close, and the matter of Sebastien had been a permanent, proverbial elephant in the room. That Theo was questioning their father’s teaching came as an immense relief to Alec though. He poured them each a glass of wine, and the two spent the rest of the evening in a quieter kind of closeness than they’d yet shared.

When the evening of the exhibition drew round, Alec was quite frankly, a bit of a mess.

“C’mon,” Theo grinned, patting the lapels of his jacket down for him and grinning up at him. “Where’s that Twayblade hunter courage, huh?”

“Must have skipped me and all gone to you,” he quipped back. “Fuck. I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?”

“No fucking clue,” Theo chuckled. “You’re awesome and they’re gonna fucking love you.”

“Language,” Alec said instinctively and Theo’s laughter redoubled.

“You’re a big fucking hypocrite, you know that?” Theo laughed just as Kay sidled up with three glasses of champagne awkwardly held between her hands.

“Help a girl out here, would you, boys?” she asked, proffering the glasses to them.

Alec resisted the urge to down it in one — he’d probably only choke on the bubbles anyway — and filled his lungs instead with a big gulp of air. He tried to send all his nerves into the air and then blow it out of his body in one heaving sigh to leave him calmer, but it just gave him a head rush, so he sipped the wine and turned to look around the gallery from the corner where he’d been lurking.

“What if no one shows up?” he blurted, earning him a scowl from Theo and a pout-and-eyebrow-raise combo from Kay.

He needn't have worried in the end. The marketing team had done their work, and within an hour the place was heaving and all but three of his pieces had been reserved. Scratch that. Two.

The fact that almost all of his students had turned up as well to cheer him on and trade high fives, and scrounge free alcohol and food from the canape trays, warmed him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Overwhelmed and a little bit tearful, he stepped out of the town hall’s main exhibition space and into the small corridor that led to a fire exit and a grotty back car park beyond, letting the flush die down from his cheeks. This was what he’d really wanted right from the moment he’d graduated all those years ago; to be an artist in his own right, with people buying his work at exhibitions… It almost made him giddy to think that he had a chance to do this full time now. It seemed that Sebastien had been right when he’d said he could really make something of himself.

Ah, there was the crash in his mood that he’d been waiting for. Nothing good lasts forever, right?

Would Sebastien have been proud of him if he knew about this? Would he have been there that night, by his side? Would they even have lasted that long anyway, even without his family’s interference?

The noise in the room was gradually dying down when he gathered enough courage to step back into the echoing hall. The pale wooden floors gleamed in the low light, the white of the temporary exhibition walls almost glowing, in stark contrast to the black and grey of his charcoals. He’d chosen mostly charcoals for the show, with a few acrylic abstracts for flavour, and apparently people loved them. Every single one had a red ‘sold’ dot beneath the label now, he noted as he cast his eyes around the room.

Then his gaze snagged on someone standing with their back to him, hands clasped loosely behind them, a long, silver-blond ponytail hanging down their back. And Alec’ vision slipped sideways.

Sebastien.

It had to be him.

No one else stood with posture like that. No one else was so tall and lean and elegant and god-damned graceful, even when just standing still. And no one else stood quite as still as that.

He let out a ragged breath and swayed slightly, glancing around. There was no sign of Theo or Kay just then, and only one or two couples meandered admiringly around the room. And there, fixated by one piece in particular, stood Sebastien.

Inhaling for courage, Alec approached and came to an unsteady halt a few feet away from him. He didn’t look real, somehow. His beauty had always been striking, but now in the low light he seemed like a mirage, with his warm olive skin and contrastingly pale hair, that cut-glass jawline and —

— He turned and met Alec’s gaze with dark brown eyes alight and glassy.

“You’re here,” Alec breathed, at a loss for anything else.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sebastien said, and the sound of his voice sent a wild tingling through Alec’s whole nervous system. The man — vampire — looked uncharacteristically shy, uncertain, as he half turned to face him.

“Gotta say,” Alec said, scratching the back of his head, “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“Should I leave?”

He chewed his lower lip for a second and Sebastien’s eyes tracked the movement before he blinked and looked back at the charcoal in front of him. It was of the Lady Chapel of the cathedral; one of the most tranquil places Alec had ever been. A shaft of light lanced down from a Gothic window high on the right, scattering fractured shards of light onto the stone floor, and behind it, just barely visible as a grey, misty outline, sat the small altar.

“You’re religious?” Alec asked.

“Mm,” Sebastien nodded. “Surprising, I know, given my ‘condition’, but there you have it.”

All the smalltalk then suddenly boiled up into thick irritation inside Alec and he scowled. “Where have you been? And why now? Why come back now? What do you want?”

He must have raised his voice fractionally because the couple admiring the seascape to their left shot them slightly scandalised looks, as if he’d started swearing in a sanctuary, and he bit back the wave of anger, halting it in its tracks.

“Shall we step outside for a moment?” Sebastien asked and Alec nodded tersely.

Passing Kay and Theo who were sitting in the chairs near the drinks table, Alec cast his eyes at them and watched Theo tense visibly. Kay laid her hand on his thigh and shook her head, at which Theo nodded and sat back, eyes hard, mouth set, but at least he didn’t appear to be on the point of leaping out and staking Sebastien on the spot.

Alec mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at them both, and followed Sebastien out on to the street.

“You’ve patched things up with your family then?” Sebastien began, standing perfectly still beside the brick wall of the Victorian building while Alec paced.

“Mostly just with Theo, but yeah. Why are you here?” he asked again.

“Honestly? I missed you. Couldn't get you out of my head. I went all over Europe, and even to Asia briefly, and nothing I did distracted me from you, from leaving you. I had to come back.”

“You could have called,” he said, instantly regretting the way it came out like a petulant teenager’s sulking.

“And what would that have achieved?” Sebastien asked evenly. “I was hundreds of miles away.”

“You could have come back sooner? Talked to me in person?”

Sebastien sighed. “I was afraid that your family would come after me. I needed to disappear.”

“Theo convinced father to let you go. As you said yourself, your name was on the treaty, and you didn’t hurt me or hypnotise me, or whatever… did you?”

“No,” he said, pale brows pinching with evident distaste.

“Could you have?”

Sebastien levelled him with a dark look. “Yes, but… that’s not something I enjoy doing. It’s a survival mechanism — to make people forget what they’ve seen — it’s not something to be used lightly.”

“Ok, but you could have, and you didn’t, so that was another reason to let you go,” he said. God he wanted to kiss him. The realisation hit him like a gut punch and he turned away. Alec ached inside and out for those lips, those hands, those eyes… “Fuck,” he whispered, barely audible. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Alec rounded on him, frustration pouring out of him again. “Don’t answer my question with one of your own. Are you staying or not?”

Sebastien remained eerily calm, but a heartbeat later Alec saw that it wasn’t serenity in his eyes but sadness. “If you want me to, I’ll stay. I want to try again, Alec. I want… I want to be with you. I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you.”

“Feel? As in… present tense?”

“Yes. It hasn’t faded. Not with all the days and distance between us.”

“God, you sound like a shitty romance novel hero…” he scoffed. “I almost believe it.”

Sebastien spread his hands and said, “I am who — and what — I am. You know me, Alec, in a way that no one else ever has. I was utterly myself with you, except for the fact that I kept my nature from you. I hope you can at least understand why, if not forgive me. Everything else was genuine. I have never done that — been that open, that vulnerable — with anyone.”

“Even knowing what my family are?”

“Even then.”

Alec looked up at him and saw his own reflection in those dark, rich brown eyes. “Show me.”

Sebastien’s angelic face soured into a confused frown. “Show you what?”

“Your eyes. Your fangs. Show me what you are.”

“Now?”

He looked around. The street was empty on either side, with the only people around gathered outside a bar further up the street.

When he turned back to say yes to Sebastien, he found blood red eyes glowing in the man’s face. “Holy fuck,” he hissed. Every already-chiselled line on Sebastien’s face had sharpened somehow, his cheeks hollowing a little, perhaps to account for the additional hardware he now sported in his mouth, and his eyes seemed a touch more sunken. And they glowed as if lit from within.

Heartbeat thrumming out a wild tattoo, he stepped closer and Sebastien went utterly still. His chest ceased to rise and fall, and he didn’t even blink as Alec raised his fingers to his left cheek. “Show me.”

Sebastien swallowed and parted his lips. Angling his jaw a little to one side, he showed Alec the elongated canines, three quarters of an inch long. “Careful,” he murmured as Alec made to touch them. “Vampire venom is potent, even in small doses.”

“Does it really do what the hunters say it does?”

Sebastien’s red eyes glittered almost playfully. “I don’t know,” he smiled, seeming to relax a fraction. “What do they say it does?”

“Drives your victims wild, acts like a date rape drug, makes humans lose their will and their inhibitions…”

At that, a hardness returned to his features and his lip twitched in a lopsided snarl, like a wolf backed into a corner. “That’s certainly one take on it,” he said. “It creates a rush of euphoria. It’s supposed to make feeding a pleasant experience for all concerned. Endorphins in the blood make the taste sweeter, and the human feels no pain or fear.”

“Right. Gotta say I like that one better,” Alec said with a shaky smile. “But I’m not gonna risk it right here… And fuck me, your eyes are incredible.”

“They’re still red, hmm?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards a little more towards the cloudy night sky, he inhaled deeply. His features softened again, and Alec watched, fascinated, as the slight bumps behind his closed upper lip slid away into nothing, presumably as his canines retracted into his gums. When he opened his eyes, they were their usual, endlessly dark brown once more.

“Better?” Sebastien asked, oddly self-conscious.

“No,” he said. “Just different.”

Something prickled on the back of his neck and he turned to find a woman silhouetted against the light of street lamp halfway up the road. “Friend of yours?” he asked, tense.

“Felicity. She came with me.”

“Why? Surely you don’t need a wingman… or, you know, woman.”

With a tiny smile, Sebastien said, “You make me more vulnerable than you realise, in more ways than one. And we weren’t sure if your family would be here.”

“Or whether they’d want to flambé you…”

“Precisely.” He inclined his head and the woman did the same, turning and vanishing even as Alec blinked.

“Can you do that too?” he asked, still gawping after her.

When he turned back, he found that Sebastien had stepped in close to him - close enough that his faint, woody cologne wafted gently around them and he felt his knees wobble slightly. He’d missed this. Oh god, he’d missed this. “Mmhmm,” Sebastien hummed. “I can.”

“Kiss me,” Alec whispered. “Please…”

Sebastien didn’t need telling twice. He took Alec’s face in both his hands and crushed a passionate kiss to his lips so hard that Alec’s mind went perfectly blank for a few beautiful seconds. When he came to, he grabbed Sebastien’s narrow hips and tugged him close, making the vampire grunt as their bodies connected.

This time, he took Sebastien’s ponytail in one hand and began to pull on it gently. Sebastien yielded at the pressure and tipped his face back, exposing the entire column of his throat to Alec without resistance. The gesture left Alec stunned and breathless. In his research with Theo over the past months, he had learned that for a vampire to expose their throat to another implied absolute trust. Overwhelmed, he pressed his lips to the bare skin and felt Sebastien gasp, grabbing at his shoulders suddenly to keep himself upright.

Over and over, the vampire shuddered tangibly beneath his touch and gasped sharply again, panting. As he shifted his hips against him, Alec felt Sebastien’s growing hardness, and at the same time, Sebastien drew back, eyes screwed shut. “Stop,” he laughed. “Not here.”

“I want you,” Alec moaned, one hand on Sebastien’s chest. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I want you too,” Sebastien smiled, opening his eyes. They glowed scarlet again. “And because of that, this —” he said, gesturing to his red eyes, “— isn’t going to go away quickly this time.”

“This too?” Alec said, boldly cupping the obvious bulge in Sebastien’s smart black trousers gently with his hand and making the vampire groan.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Your place or mine?” Alec asked with a dizzy grin.

“You decide. I’m booked into a hotel one street over for the next two days,” he said. “If that affects your decision in any way.”

“Yours,” he said. “I… I’ll just…” he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the exhibition banner dangling by the door. “I should…”

Sebastien nodded slowly. “I’ll be here.”

“You’d better be,” he snarled as he adjusted himself and prayed no one would notice. He took a few steadying breaths on the threshold of the town hall and then disappeared inside.

Kay raised her eyebrows at him when he reappeared.

“Not a word,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your hair’s a mess,” she said conversationally. “Is it windy outside?”

“Fuck off,” he grimaced and she laughed. “Where’s Theo?”

“He left out the back way,” she said. “But he told me to tell you to enjoy yourself tonight, and that he’ll stand by whatever makes you happy.”

Unexpected tears prickled his eyes and he tugged her into a hug that was probably meant for his brother.

“You can thank us later,” she said, shoving him off her. “Go be with your Prince of Darkness…”

“I’m not sure how much he’d like you calling him that,” he said as he stepped back. “I’ll have to wrap things up here first…”

It seemed to take forever, but he finally found the events coordinator and after an interminable conversation full of congratulations, agreed to stop by the next day to take down the exhibition and sort the sales out. His heart was thudding when he stepped back outside, but he let out a huge sigh when he saw Sebastien leaning against the brick building, face tilted towards the moon that was just peeking out from behind a bank of cloud.

“It’s like one of your charcoals,” Sebastien said without tearing his eyes from the sky.

Alec crossed to him and smiled when Sebastien met his gaze, red meeting blue. Alec slid his fingers into Sebastien’s where his hand hung quietly by his side.

“Ready?” the vampire asked.

Alec nodded, and let Sebastien lead him back to his hotel.

They barely made it into the lift before Alec was kissing him, backing him into the mirrored sides of the lift with a thud before the doors had even closed. He stopped suddenly, drew back and laughed, and Sebastien — who looked like he’d just got whiplash — asked, “What?”

“Vampires do have reflections after all…”

Sebastien rolled his eyes and gave an indecorous snort-laugh. The sound was rich and warm and it filled Alec’s whole consciousness for a moment. “It’s only the antique ones with genuine silver backing that don’t show our reflections. Technology has evolved, thank goodness. Now, if you don’t mind, you were kissing me senseless…”

“Sorry,” he laughed, grabbing Sebastien’s white shirt collar and tugging him down again. They nearly didn’t get out of the lift at Sebastien’s floor, but as the doors began to close again, Sebastien slid his foot into the path of the doors and dragged Alec out.

Clothes landed in a steady line on the carpet between the door of his hotel room and Sebastien’s bed, ending with them both in only their boxer-briefs on the pristine white surface of the bed. Alec was tipped back onto the duvet and lay there staring up at Sebastien who was now no longer hiding his nature from him at all. Red eyes blazed in his face and as he opened his mouth to breath heavily, the tips of his fangs were just visible. There was no denying that he was a vampire.

“Was it like this before?” Alec asked hoarsely. “I mean… did I just not see it?”

“I had to work very hard to rein all this in,” he said, kneeling on the bed and crawling a little way up it. His own boxer briefs strained at the crotch where his erection tented the fabric, and Alec’s own black ones were stained with a little spot of wetness where his cock twitched with eager interest. “I only let it slip once or twice, but you were distracted at the time.”

Alec smirked and then moaned as Sebastien’s palm skimmed up over his groin and over his stomach. He’d always been a bit self-conscious about the softer parts of him, but Sebastien worshipped him like he was some kind of immortal god, lavishing attention on him over and over until he was shaking and gasping and sweating. “Please!” he begged after what felt like hours. “Oh god, please…”

Sebastien slid off the bed and deftly removed his own underwear before encouraging Alec to lift his hips for him and drawing his boxer-briefs down too. Before Alec could think or process what was happening, Sebastien was between his legs again and had swallowed the entire length of his cock to the back of his throat in one.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, mind whiting out.

Sparks of pleasure shot up his spine as Sebastien worked him alternately with his mouth and his hand.

He teased him, licking the slit at the tip where pre-come beaded profusely now, teasing the delicate folds of skin until Alec thought he was going to shatter apart with want. Just before it got too much to bear, Sebastien would take him back into the wet heat of his mouth and work the underside of his cock with his tongue, swallowing occasionally and making Alec’s head spin all over again.

His balls tightened and he spread his legs wider, instinctively opening himself to Sebastien.

The vampire moaned against his cock and Alec whimpered. Pulling off him, an obscenely inviting thread of saliva and pre-come connecting them briefly, Sebastien sat up and reached for the top drawer of the bedside table. “Vampires neither catch nor transmit diseases,” he said, “But if you still wish to use protection —”

“— I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he rasped. “And I’m clean anyway…”

“As you wish,” Sebastien smiled, withdrawing an almost-new bottle of lube and sitting back down between his legs. Alec eyed it and Sebastien laughed shyly. “I opened it last night…” he admitted and Alec grinned.

That smirk shattered into an open-mouthed groan as Sebastien’s finger slid inside him and he began to prepare him. There was nothing perfunctory about it either. Sebastien took his time to work him open, his fingers fucking into him slowly, almost reverently, until he crooked them and Alec yelled as white-hot pleasure shot through him.

“Still so sensitive,” Sebastien crooned and Alec just shivered in response. His thighs were quivering too now from the effort of not bucking upwards into the empty air, his cock drooling freely over his slightly soft stomach with each futile twitch. He knew he was a wanton mess, and he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care. It seem to drive Sebastien wild anyway.

When Sebastien added a third finger, still stroking up and down his thigh with his other hand, Alec broke.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpered, out of breath and desperate. He cracked his eyes open and looked down at Sebastien to find that his red eyes had been almost eclipsed by his blown pupils. He gave a weak buck of his hips to try and encourage Sebastien to get on with it, but the vampire seemed utterly transfixed by him. He worked his fingers over Alec’s prostate gently but with absolute precision, and it was going to make Alec lose his mind altogether.

“Pleasepleaseplease, I need you, please…” he wailed as Sebastien’s mercifully short and blunt fingernail caught him just so and sent another jolt through him.

Finally the vampire moved, but as he withdrew completely, the loss almost shattered him. “Shh,” he smiled, stroking a soothing circle at Alec’s hipbone. “I’m still here…”

Alec whimpered like a wounded animal but his foggy brain accepted that the loss was only temporary, and he watched as Sebastien took his own flushed cock in his hands and slicked lube up the length of it in a couple of efficient strokes, head bowing under the attention it was receiving at last. He’d focused solely, completely, on Alec’s pleasure for all that time, and the realisation sent a fresh wave of lust rolling through Alec’s entire body.

He spread his legs, but Sebastien caught Alec under his left thigh and raised his leg easily, exposing Alec completely. Before Alec could process anything, his tip was nudging at Alec’s entrance, and then he had sunk all the way in to the hilt.

Sebastien froze then, bowed forwards over Alec like a supplicant, canines openly bared, eyes screwed shut, not even breathing.

“Sebastien… please…” Alec grunted. He’d never felt as full and whole as he had with Sebastien inside him, and yet this wasn’t enough. He’d ached for this. For months, he’d ached for it, and still it wasn’t enough. “Bast, please…”

Finally, the vampire opened his searing red eyes and began to move.

Slowly at first, he picked up his pace until Alec’s back was arching and his fingers clawed great furrows in the sheet beneath him. With each thrust, Alec saw stars at let out little fractured, broken gasps. Sebastien was quiet, almost silent, while Alec himself was unable to stop the sounds from tumbling out of him. He moaned and whimpered, gasped and cursed and begged until Sebastien yanked him further down the bed and lifted his hips a little way off the mattress entirely.

From this new angle, it was so blindingly good that Alec went alternately taut and limp with ecstasy. “I’m close,” he gasped over the slap of Sebastien’s hips meeting his skin.

The vampire snarled then; an inhuman sound that sent the hairs prickling all down Alec’s body.

“Come for me,” Alec begged in a whisper, opening his eyes and watching as Sebastien chased his release with a ferocity he’d never shown before. He wasn’t careless with his strength, but he was certainly forceful. Had Alec wanted to grunt ‘stop’, he knew the vampire would halt, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he watched the flawless perfection of this man above him. “God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Come for me, Bast…”

And at the sound of his name, uttered in little more than an abbreviated wheeze, Sebastien went still, hips spasming as his spine arched back like a bow at full draw, mouth open, head thrown back, fangs bared, eyes rammed shut, a sheen of sweat covering his perfect, bronze chest, his silver hair falling around him like a veil.

The sight of him like that wrenched Alec’s orgasm from him with such sudden force that he almost blacked out, and he clenched around Sebastien’s still-twitching cock as he spilled all over himself. Vaguely, he felt Sebastien trying to withdraw, but he grunted, “Don't… not yet… please… I… unngghh…” Unable to finish the sentence as the last shock waves fluttered through him, Alec went limp against the bed, breathing hard, his blood roaring in his ears.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sebastien did finally move, but eventually he slid his softening cock out of him and Alec grunted at the cool slide of the vampire’s release down his thigh. He was too spent and exhausted to care about the mess though, and as Sebastien collapsed onto the bed beside him, he cracked one eye open.

Sebastien lay on his left side with his cheek pillowed on his bicep, facing Alec with his eyes closed, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. Tentatively, clumsily in the daze of his recent, mind-blowing orgasm, Alec reached out and touched the delicate skin on the inside of his arm. Sebastien jolted like he’d received an electric shock, and opened his eyes. They still burned bright red, but the rest of his face seemed a little softer somehow.

“You alright?” Alec asked.

Sebastien nodded.

“Been a while too, huh?” Alec grinned, flopping back down to stare at the ceiling where little points of light still sparkled across his vision every now and again.

“Not since that last night with you,” he said, words slurred with exhaustion. “Unless you count my rather pathetic climax alone last night, which I certainly don’t.”

“Not at all?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak again. The vampire lay perfectly still — perfectly undead — and perfectly vulnerable beside him without even a sheet to cover him. His cock now lay soft across the top of his right thigh, still drooling a little and making a mess on his olive skin. Not half as much mess as Alec was currently sporting over his torso, he mused with another smile.

With Sebastien showing no sign of stirring, Alec rolled carefully off the bed and headed on shaky legs to the shower. When he returned, Sebastien hadn’t moved, and he slid in beside him, drawing the sheets up around them and lying there to stare at him in the dimness of the unlit room, processing everything. Sebastien was back, and apparently wanted to stay. He could hardly believe how well that day had gone.

Waking the next morning with a cool, lean body pressed against him, Alec sighed, relieved that it hadn’t all been some kind of fever dream brought on by the stress of the exhibition.

The fact that the man next to him was an undead vampire who didn’t breathe in his sleep was a bit unnerving, and the way he had his cheek now resting on Alec’s collarbone and his nose pressed against his neck should also probably have been a bit of a warning, but Alec couldn’t bring himself to move, except to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

Suddenly, as if surfacing from boundless depths, Sebastien’s body heaved and he drew in a great, sucking, rasping inhale through his mouth. His lips brushed against Alec’s pulse and Sebastien began breathing heavily there for a moment.

“That will never not be weird,” Alec murmured.

“Apologies,” Sebastien muttered, trying to roll away. He paused, freezing, and then whispered, “I fell asleep…” as if that was something miraculous.

“Yeah, you passed out almost as soon as we both finished,” he snickered.

Sebastien turned his big, dark, doe eyes on Alec and said, “No, you don’t understand. Vampires don’t just shut down like that the way humans do. We only sleep somewhere we know is secure and safe…”

“Oh,” Alec said significantly as the realisation plunged through him. He tucked his arm under Sebastien’s head and tugged him closer so that their bodies were once again flush with one another. “I’m glad you felt safe…”

Sebastien sighed, trailing his fingertips across Alec’s chest in absent circles. His cock twitched too, and Alec shot him a look.

With a bashful smile, Sebastien said, “I can’t help that I find you attractive, Alec…”

“Wasn't complaining,” he grinned.

It was a long time before they rolled off each other that morning, with the sun well up and the sheets damp with sweat and tangled around their ankles. Vampires, it seemed, had a longer refractory period than humans, but Sebastien also came so big when he did that Alec wasn’t surprised. He gave everything to Alec when he came that Alec could quite happily lie there all day just staring at him as he came down afterwards.

The room was chilly, however, and when Sebastien seemed to have dozed off again around ten o’clock, he headed to clean up. Again.

As the steam billowed around him, he tipped his head back into the stream of searing water and nearly yelped as the shower door opened and let in a rush of cold air as Sebastien stepped into the stall as well. Cool hands found his waist and then strong fingers kneaded his arse appreciatively before Sebastien kissed and nibbled up his shoulder and traps to his neck. Instinctively, Alec tilted his head to one side and Sebastien moaned, pressing open-mouthed kisses there over and over as the hot water coursed around his lips.

The sensation must have been too much for him because he pulled back sharply with a hiss and Alec turned to face him, water still streaming down around them. Sebastien stood frozen, eyes red, staring at Alec’s neck. “I shouldn’t…” he began. “That was stupid of me… I…”

“What happens to the treaty if the human is willing?” Alec found himself asking. He’d thought about it a lot before drifting off the previous night. If Sebastien had wanted to drink from him, to feed on him, what would happen to the tenuous peace between hunters and vampires like him.

“Don’t,” Sebastien said through gritted teeth. His canines were elongated, Alec noted.

“What happens?”

“The only way it’s permitted is if the human agrees by written contract to become the vampire’s source.”

“‘Source’?” he asked. “That sounds like an official title.”

“It is,” Sebastien said, relaxing a fraction and putting his hands back on Alec’s hips. His cock stirred with interest and Sebastien smiled. He leaned back in, as if proving to both of them that he could do this, and kissed down Alec’s neck again from the junction of his jaw all the way to his collarbones. He ground his hips against Alec and they both began to harden again.

Alec’s hand went to Sebastien’s cock and he started to stroke him gently, knowing he was still sensitive from their last round. Sebastien let out a ragged exhale, the cool breath making Alec shiver slightly in the heat of the water.

“So…” Alec pressed gently, thumbing across the top of Sebastien’s flushed cock.

“Hmm?” he asked, a little stunned.

“What is a source?”

“A human becoming a vampire’s source means that the vampire drinks only from that human. It’s… an ancient - ah - custom,” he said, gripping Alec’s shoulders as Alec upped the speed and adjusted his grip to tighten just a little around his now fully hard cock. “Rarely used today, but still… nngh…”

“Mmm?” Alec grinned, loving that the vampire’s thoughts were unravelling under his touch. “Go on.”

“You’re a menace,” he laughed breathily, nipping playfully at his neck and then kissing him hard. Alec’s back suddenly hit the icy tiles behind him and he yelped, rearing into Sebastien who wasn’t all that much warmer, though the heat of the water was raising his body temperature from the ambient temperature of the room.

“So if…” Alec began, somewhat distracted as Sebastien’s kisses continued and the vampire raked his fingers through Alec’s wet hair, scraping luxuriantly across his scalp hard enough to make him break off and groan. “If… if I wanted to become your…”

“Don’t,” Sebastien whispered. “Not yet. Not so soon after… all this time.”

The subtext was clear. Let’s see if this is going to last before I risk my life with the hunters guild and your family, shall we?

“Fair enough. Nothing to say I can’t suck you off now though, right?”

“Nothing at all,” he whispered and then immediately cursed as Alec sank to his knees and did just that.

It was only as he was handing in his own letter of resignation that the truth really sank in for Alec. He’d gone from post-grad assistant in the department to a full lecturer, where he’d stayed for six years, and now he was moving a little way out of the city, and moving in with his boyfriend of a year. A vampire, nonetheless. His life had gone from miserable to wonderful in that relatively short time.

Sebastien met him at the edge of campus after he’d handed the letter personally to the head of department. Standing under the verdant cherry trees, Sebastien looked like a vision. He wore tight, dark jeans and a loose shirt, half untucked, with his long hair tied back in a loose plait, fly-aways wisping around his head like mist. Alec walked straight up to him as the vampire opened his arms, flung his own arms around Sebastien’s neck, and hugged him.

“All done?” Sebastien asked without pulling back.

He nodded and popped back down from his toes. They were both tall men, but Sebastien had a few inches on him still. With a slightly doe-eyed expression, Sebastien smiled and kissed him gently. “I love you,” he said softly between kisses.

“Come on, you big sap,” Alec said. “I’ve got to be out of my apartment at four.”

“Such a romantic,” Sebastien sighed melodramatically.

With Sebastien’s supernatural strength, loading up the little van they’d hired for his stuff didn’t take long, and after giving his keys back to the landlord and signing the final bits and bobs, they were on the road.

The old farmhouse had been a find of Sebastien’s, and it needed some work. “Well, what else am I going to do on long, impossibly sunny summer days while you’re running your own business from the little art studio at the bottom of the garden?” Sebastien had laughed when they’d first viewed it, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead in a terribly ‘put upon’ gesture. “I might as well spruce the place up.”

“It needs more than a light ‘sprucing up’,” Alec had said, brows raised at the rotten wooden beam and the tired 1950’s kitchen. “And don’t tell me you made your wealth flipping houses back in the day.”

“Would you rather I told you I robbed the Bank of England and they still haven’t noticed?” he replied archly before planting a kiss squarely on Alec’s scratchy, stubble-darkened cheek.

With a scowl, Alec had shot him a look. “I honestly don’t know whether that’s a lie or not…”

“It’s a lie,” Sebastien snorted. “I can’t believe you think I’m a criminal.”

“You’re a vampire,” he’d retorted. “You could probably have just walked in there and demanded a small fortune in gold ingots and they wouldn’t have objected…”

“Please. I do have some scruples. And besides, I only use my charms on poor, miserable artists to get into their pants…”

“And their hearts too, apparently,” he’d scoffed as they’d left the dilapidated house with Sebastien’s hand in Alec’s back pocket, fingers firmly cupped around his arse.

It took another six months for the work to be completed, and even with Sebastien’s not inconsiderable talents in the DIY and home improvement departments, they still had to call in a team of builders to fix the pointing in one wall and to sort out a few other structural issues. But by the end of the work, the farmhouse was quite frankly the most stunning place Alec could ever have dreamed of living. Exposed oak beams and a fireplace big enough to park a tractor in were only half of the best features of the place.

One clear, frosty evening in late October, the pair sat outside on the recently finished patio, a small cast iron fire-pit crackling away and sending sparks and heat twisting up into the night sky, a glass of wine each in one hand and their free hand clasped around the other’s.

“Bastien…?” Alec said, not taking his eyes from the mother-of-pearl points of light in the sky above.

“Mmm?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… about becoming your source.” He didn’t miss the sharp inhale from his partner, nor the way Sebastien went completely still in the wooden chair beside him. He also didn’t say anything. “I’d… I’d like to ask how often you’d need to feed from me, and… what the repercussions would be for me as the human…”

Still Sebastien didn’t speak for a long time, and Alec worried he’d spoilt the serenity of their evening with the sensitive question. Finally, the vampire cleared his throat and Alec realised with a jolt that he was near tears.

“Bast?”

At the sound of the pet-name, Sebastien blinked rapidly and two mirroring tears tracked down his cheeks in perfect synchrony. “I thought you’d forgotten all about it,” he said in a hoarse croak. “I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

“You should have done, silly,” Alec groused, and he was met with a watery smile that didn’t meet his eyes at all.

“Well, to answer your questions,” he said, trying to sound unaffected even if he clearly was. “Every three months is safe enough, so long as you take an iron supplement. If you don’t, you might feel a little more tired right afterwards. We generally take slightly less than a person would give at a blood donation, if that helps put it into context.”

Alec turned and frowned at him.

“What?”

“You’ve gone all clinical,” he said, shuffling a little and setting his wine glass down on the edge of the stone fire pit. “Do you not want this anymore?”

Sebastien swallowed thickly and looked away. In the ochre and copper flicker of the flames before them, his suddenly red eyes seemed to glow like coals. “More than you know…” he rasped.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning back to face Alec with glassy eyes. “I’m frightened.”

Alec’s scowl deepened and he rose from his chair to straddle and sink down into Sebastien’s lap. Settled in his new position, he kissed Bast’s lips and stroked his loose, white-blond hair out of his eyes. “Of what?”

“Losing control. It’s been… decades since… If I hurt you, Alec… it would break me.”

“How about we start small? Just a taste?”

Sebastien looked so young then in the firelight. He suddenly looked like the twenty year old man he had been when he’d been conscripted into the army and sent out to battle to die, only to be turned at the eleventh hour by a nurse in a field hospital who’d seen something special in him. Thank god she had, Alec mused.

Alec leaned back a little and brought his index finger slowly to Sebastien’s lips. The vampire swallowed, red gaze drifting down to watch its approach before looking back at Alec’s face, searching, questioning, doubting.

Alec nodded and slid his fingertip a few millimetres into Sebastien’s mouth. The vampire inhaled, closed his eyes, and then opened his mouth properly. Alec brought the pad of his fingertip to the underside of his right canine, and pressed.

After a moment, the pressure gave way and a prick of pain like a needle pierced his skin. A bead of blood welled there instantly and he withdrew to let it swell. Sebastien clearly smelled the blood because his pupils dilated and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Easy,” Alec said. “It’s only a drop.” And with that, he turned his finger over and held it above the tip of Sebastien’s tongue.

Paralysed in a heartbeat of terror, Sebastien sat rigid, frozen, wide eyed, but Alec lowered his finger to meet the slight roughness of his tongue, and Sebastien’s eyes rolled. He moaned and let his tongue play across the tiny pinprick wound, fingers digging into Alec’s hips. The tiny wound had already stopped bleeding, but he sucked gently, drawing a little taste more. Then he released Alec and stared at him, a look of stunned awe on his beautiful face.

“How was that?” Alec asked, briefly thumbing a fond arc across Sebastien’s cheekbone before dropping his hand.

“Manageable,” Sebastien murmured.

“Ok, I have to ask, do I taste good?”

The tense spell that encapsulated both of them broke and Sebastien cracked a smile, fangs and all. “Yes,” he rasped.

“So… I can become your source?”

“If you wish it, yes. You can withdraw the honour at any time. I won’t hold you to it.”

“Good to know,” he said, only half laughing. A moment later, he said, “When… When do you want to start… you know… properly. Formally?”

Sebastien’s eyes had drifted to the rabbiting pulse in his neck.

“Now?” he asked. “It’s only been a few weeks since you went to the blood bank though…”

“That’s…” he said, hands finding Alec’s waist and holding him gently. “That probably works in my favour this time. Are you sure you want this?”

“To be ‘yours’ on your terms as well as mine? Of course,” he smiled, and watched as another tear rolled down his perfect olive cheek. He tilted his head to one side, feeling a little sheepish, and said in barely a whisper, “Whenever you like.”

“Really? Now?” Sebastien hissed, chest suddenly heaving. “Just like that?”

Alec laughed quietly. “It’s not as if we’ve just met. I know you, Bast. I trust you. I wouldn’t offer this to just any old vampire, you know?”

Unable to stop the smile from twisting his lips, Sebastien finally relented with a nod. “Alright. But not here. You’re going to want to be more comfortable.”

“But I’m already comfortable here,” he whined playfully, wiggling his hips in Sebastien’s lap, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan.

With a roll of his red eyes, Sebastien sighed. “Stubborn arse,” he grumbled without sting.

“You love my arse.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do,” he said.

Tenderly he ran his thumb down the line of Alec’s carotid and inhaled deeply. “I love you,” he whispered. And then he leaned close. He took his time kissing Alec’s neck until he was gasping and rocking his hips against Sebastien.

“Please…”

“Last chance,” Sebastien said against the skin of his throat.

Alec shook his head. “I want this. I’m yours.”

So the vampire sank his fangs into the artery. After the initial surprise and sting, Alec’s whole body lit up as the venom hit his bloodstream, and he bucked into Sebastien who held him still with what should have been frightening ease. There was no fear behind the gesture, only longing and love and sweet, aching, rolling, unending pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Alec moaned, going limp in his arms as Sebastien began to feed, withdrawing his fangs to draw more deeply on him while he held him easily in his arms. The vampire moaned, lips locked against his skin so as not to spill anything. The motion of his throat suddenly fascinated Alec as he swallowed down his own life-force, but before he could raise his hand to touch fingertips to his Adam’s apple, pleasure exploded in his mind and he forgot everything.

When he came back to himself, he was inside, lying on their bed, with a small, soft dressing over his neck, and Sebastien sitting quietly on the bed beside him, staring down at him and holding his hand. As he blinked his eyes, he frowned. “What…?”

“It’s intense the first time,” Sebastien murmured fondly. “I did say you’d want to be somewhere more comfortable.”

“ S’perfect,” he slurred. “Fuck me…” he added, more curse than command.

“Maybe later, hmm?” Sebastien smiled. There was a flush to his cheeks that Alec had never seen before, and a brightness to his eyes.

“C’mere,” Alec said, patting the bed beside him. With Sebastien lying silently next to him, Alec rolled over and hooked one leg over Bast’s thigh. “Love you,” he mumbled, sinking into a deep and exhausted sleep, even as Sebastien’s hand came up to cradle his head.

The vampire smiled, kissing his forehead. “I love you too.”

___

Hope you've enjoyed this 23,700k story! Looking forward to your comments as always. Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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[i-may-have-a-point]

Review of 17x14 “Look Up Child”

It has been three years since I wrote my last review of a Grey’s Anatomy episode.  After Sarah left, I stepped away from my fan accounts and did not plan on ever looking back.  Somehow though, through the dedication of our captains and the strength of the Japril fandom, we got one more episode that confirmed what we have known all along – Japril is forever.  

The episode opens to Jackson driving through a storm and we can see in his eyes that he is fighting an internal storm as well.  He winces at his injured hand while his mind flashes through thoughts of holding Harriet with April for the first time, the pain of watching April marry Matthew, and meeting his dad.  These moments, along with many others have led Jackson yearning for more out of life, and so he returns to Montana hopeful he will find answers there.

The last thing Robert Avery expects, for a second time, is to find the son he left behind standing in the doorway of his restaurant.  

“Everybody alive?” Robert asks.

Jackson making this journey again, after the way they left things before, could only be for one reason in Robert’s mind.  Jackson reassures him that is not the reason he came, and Robert relaxes easily into his friendly charm, offering coffee and a place for Jackson to “take a load off.”  He has no idea of the “load” Jackson truly bears.

Robert is awaiting the arrival of his co-worker so they can deliver pre-packaged meals to families in need in their community.  This gesture may seem small, but to Jackson, this is a subtle sign that he on the right path.  There is more he can do than what he has found within the walls of Grey-Sloan Memorial. Their small talk is awkward, and Jackson wants to get right to what he came for – answers.  Robert has other ideas.  There are sandwiches to be made and they can talk while they work.

After following Robert to the porch, Jackson realizes this sandwich-making process is going to be more time-consuming than he thought.  And so is getting the answers he came for.  He reiterates to Robert that he doesn’t want anything from him – not turkey, not coffee – just answers.

Jackson presses his dad for information about why he left the foundation, the problems he saw with it, and Catherine’s perspective on it all while Robert deflects the questions with vague answers and praise of the ham and turkey sandwich.  Robert is not ready to answer these questions because answering them would mean dealing with the memories of the past and the regret he carries.  So instead, he smiles kindly and puts Jackson in charge of the meat slicer, which leads to the first moment in Jackson’s life where his dad taught him how to do something. (Although we all know he didn’t teach him well!) This interaction allows Jackson to let his guard down just slightly and they find they have some common views on the Avery name, money, and pressure that comes with it all.  Jackson tries some of Robert’s “best in the state” turkey and Robert opens up about his own shame and abandonment by his father. It seems pain runs through generations of Avery men.

Maybe it is that realization, or the cup of Robert’s coffee in his hand, that makes Jackson relax enough to begin opening up.  He shares his desire to do more to change the system has seen fail so many people.  He isn’t even sure if he can, but he knows he feels compelled to try.  Robert agrees that people should do what makes them happy.  He did and he “never looks back.”

But Jackson does.  He can’t stop looking back and wondering why his dad was absent from every moment that mattered.  

“I realize that it’s really messed me up…pretty badly. And, um, it just made it hard to maintain relationships and stuff.  Having this inclination to run away all the time.  And I know, I know, running away doesn’t actually solve anything.  I know that. So…and I’ve tried.  I’ve tried really hard to rid myself of the shame and the pain that comes with all that, and uh, you know just kind of doubled-down on being the best at everything – the best father I could possibly be.  I probably stayed in my marriage longer than I should have, went along with foundation business longer than I should have, but no matter what, when it gets rough I just end up right there, running into the woods trying to fight the you in me.”

What begins as a tearful explanation builds to all of Jackson’s pent-up emotions overflowing at his dad.  He is distracted and emotional, cutting his hand on the slicer with blood pouring out, while his heart pours out at the same time.  

Robert tends to Jackson’s injury, and they both feel it is a simple gesture that holds more weight than they know what to do with.  Robert tries to make light of the situation by joking about a family practice, but it is the idea of them as family that sends Jackson to find fresh air on the porch. It is here where Robert finally answers Jackson’s question of “Why?”

Running is what Robert does when things get too difficult, and that is what makes Jackson so afraid. He feels the same pull.  Just before he cut his hand, he was running down the long list of things he feels he has done wrong. Does he truly believe he stayed in his marriage too long?  No. But to Jackson that is just one more way he is like his dad.  He is so messed up by the fear of turning into Robert that he breaks things off before they get too difficult, before he gets to the point Robert did.  If he can maintain a safe distance to the important things in his life, he won’t lose them and he won’t be like Robert.  “My divorce…maybe that would have been a good time for you to step in and share some wisdom.”  This isn’t who Jackson wants to be, but he is too scared of moving in either direction – scared of moving both toward or away from the things that matter, like April.  So instead, he suffers in an ambiguous middle ground.  One where he hasn’t completely abandoned anyone or anything and one where he hasn’t fully committed to anything either.  It is a balance he has tried to find for years, but it is also what is breaking him now.  

Truth be told, even Robert cannot fully run from what matters.  From his cabin in the woods, he admits that everyday he regrets leaving, and he buys gifts for a little girl he has never met in hopes that one day he will.

“You’re not a runner. If you were, you’d have been long gone by now…you have it in your soul to do the right thing.  To makes things right.  And you didn’t just fix a disaster, you made it better…on your worst day, you are ten times the man I am.”

And it is with those words Jackson makes his decision.  He is going to do the right thing.  He is going to take what seems like a disaster and make it better.

Arriving back in Seattle, Jackson goes straight to the people who matter most.  

Catherine is his first stop. He needs her blessing to take over the foundation.  Their money and influence can make life better for all people by bringing justice and equity to medicine and build a better future for Harriet.  Catherine’s Mama-heart breaks a little to see him go, but she cannot deny how proud of him she is.

With the rain still coming down, Jackson rings April’s doorbell and stresses over how he is going to approach asking her to move across the country for him.  How can he explain to her that this is not impulsive, this is not something he is doing on a whim?  

Yet, when the door opens, all his insecurities are quickly forgotten because seeing April only reminds him of why they have always been each other’s person and how she has always trusted him no matter what.  She trusted him the night of the boards with her heart and virginity, she trusted him with the decision to induce her pregnancy with Samuel to stop his pain, and she trusted him to run away from her wedding and the life she thought she was supposed to have.  But this is different.  So much has changed in the past few years.  Would she trust him now?

Jackson will have to wait to find out, though, because April is frantic.  Harriet is sick and April cannot get her fever down.  Jackson sees how stressed she is and immediately gives April what she needs.  He takes Harriet into her arms, both consoling her and helping April calm down and have a moment to breathe.  They fall into their usual banter and affectionate teasing.

Their conversations and interactions throughout the episode give us small glimpses of what we should have had the past several years had their story been written they way it should have been.  They naturally fall into their place as the loving, concerned parents unable to sleep while caring for their daughter.  They move through the house and around each other as if this is a familiar dance that they have done hundred times before.

Harriet’s sickness doesn’t seem to be the only thing April is stressed about.  Her living room is strewn with laundry and she quickly tries to clean it up while Jackson reassures her in his “bank voice” that it is fine. Too many pillows, but otherwise, fine. Jackson continues Daddy Duty by dancing with his daughter and April gets a chance to take a much-needed shower…until the storm knocks the power out.

Jackson and April alone at night in a storm, surrounded by candles, is the perfect set-up for an epic reunion, and while they may not have utilized the kitchen counter like we wanted them, too, they did reconnect on a level of clarity and maturity that shows how much they have grown.

There is also that not-so-little issue of Matthew.  Japril fans spotted early on that April was missing a particularly important ring, but it was even more telling when Jackson asked her directly if her and Matthew are happy, and she responded with simply, “We are busy.”  For a marriage that the terrible writing of season 14 wanted us to believe was ordained by God, how sad that you can’t even pretend to be happy. That one line conveyed so much more than what was stated.  It was clear from that point that Matthew and April’s marriage was over.

April is not the only one beating around the bush.  She quickly calls Jackson out on his “cagey” behavior of commenting on her exposed brick instead of saying why he actually showed up at her house late at night in the middle of a storm.  She can read him so well she knows there is something more, which is when we finally find out his plan – he is going to take over the Avery Foundation. The catch is, that means Jackson, as well as April and her family, have to move to Boston.

April responds by questioning if this is what Jackson actually wants because it never was before.  Is he going to move to Boston and then fail or regret his decision?  And while this seems unsupportive and harsh, April has to ask these questions because, as we find out later, that is exactly what happened to her.  She thought she was choosing the right path by marrying Matthew, but not only has their marriage failed, she regrets that they even tried. But Jackson doesn’t know this yet, so to defend his decision he uses Matthew proposing to April as an example of how he unconditionally supported her which not only hints at Jackson’s jealousy, but reinforces April’s fear that making a decision this big may not be the best choice.  She sees happiness for Jackson in the safe choice.  He can continue to rebuild faces, give little boy’s hands, and help people breathe again.  Maybe if she can convince him to stay with what he knows he won’t feel the hurt she is feeling right now. “Why would you want to give all that up?”

Jackson knows he can do all of that and more in Boston.  He can make a positive change in medicine, April can continue her work with the homeless, and Matthew will just follow because it is April, and that is the one reason Jackson likes him.  “He is gonna want to follow you anywhere.”  Jackson understands the urge to follow April anywhere.  The night continues with wine, snacks, and comfortable conversation but they don’t come to an agreement on what their future holds.

The storm breaks and morning comes.  Jackson, recognizing that April has been overwhelmed lets her sleep in, and she wakes up to the sounds of Harriet and Jackson happily eating breakfast and we get a glimpse of their happy, family mornings that we all know Boston will bring.  The three of them laugh and talk over pancakes, orange juice, and throw pillows and April admits that she should have been more supportive of Jackson’s plans.  If only they could get their timing right.  

The morning has brought with it clarity for April and she tells Jackson her answer is yes.  Yes, she believes he is “that guy.” Yes, she believes this could work.  Yes, they are going to Boston.  Shocked and surprised, Jackson offers to help talk to Matthew, but we find out that won’t be necessary.  As most of us suspected, the marriage that should have never happened is over.  One of the best lines of the episode is the slight dig that the writers (Sarah/Jesse?) took at the ridiculous story of April marrying Matthew.  “We kept trying to tell ourselves that our whole winding road was God’s plan to bring us back together.  But he was still so angry and hurt.  I mean, I left him at the altar and his wife died.  You know, you don’t just stop feeling hurt ‘cause it’s a better story if God brought us together in our pain.”  Enough said. And as much as we are not sad to see Matthew go, April is hurting, and Jackson recognizes that.  He takes her hand in a small gesture of comfort because he never wants to see her in pain.  (Thank you, Jesse, for improvising that.)  He gave her a reason to smile again.  Their family has a fresh start ahead in Boston.  

The episode closes with Harriet calling out for “Mommy and Daddy” as Jackson pulls April into a hug before leaving to prepare for their move, and April folds perfectly into his arms where she is supposed to be.  Fingers crossed for new horizons.  Maybe they finally did get their timing right.

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro finds Mahiru asleep in his pub. (KuroMahi, Modern AU)

“It was busy tonight. I’ll close up the kitchen so you can go to study for your exam, JeJe.” Kuro told his brother. The family owned a small pub and they would often work late. He was tired himself but he thought it was important for his siblings to focus on school. “Wrath will get angry at both of us if she thinks that I made you work late instead of doing your school work.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Hyde entered the kitchen and said: “We have a problem with a customer. He’s your regular and he’s asking for you, Kuro.”

“Me?” Kuro wondered what the customer could want with him. He didn’t have anyone he would consider a regular customer either. He rarely worked as a bartender since he preferred to cook in the kitchen. His siblings were better at small talk so he would leave the job to them. The pub was quiet so the customer wasn’t violent or angry. He wiped his hands and said, “Can you tell me what to expect?”

“You’ll call it ‘troublesome’.” Hyde told him and took the hand towel he had been using to wipe the counter. He started to clean the kitchen for him while Kuro stepped out of the room. His brother’s description of the customer was vague and he didn’t know what to expect. At first, he didn’t see who the person was and he thought the bar was empty.

He scanned the room and he noticed someone sitting at the bar with their head resting on the table. It was clear that the person had fallen asleep and Kuro sighed. He didn’t know why Hyde asked him to deal with the customer when he could’ve simply woken the man and called a cab for him. Kuro was glad that the problem wasn’t an angry drunk at least.

He stood next to the sleeping man and lightly shook his shoulder. As the man shook his head, Kuro was able to see his face and he gasped softly. He never expected to see Mahiru again, yet here he was. He could only stare at him while the memories of their relationship came back to him.

They had broken up the month before they graduated high school. The tears that Mahiru had that day still stabbed at his heart and Kuro traced his fingers over his cheek. Mahiru had the opportunity to go to a prestigious college and it would allow him to pursue his dream of becoming a photographer. But the school was in another city. Kuro didn’t want their relationship to hold Mahiru back from accomplishing his dreams. He made the difficult decision to break up.

“Kuro…” Mahiru mumbled his name in his sleep and his voice pulled him out of his memories.

“What am I going to do?” Kuro whispered and ran his hand through his hair. He was still in love with Mahiru so he didn’t know how he could face him after their break up. He didn’t know if he came to the bar to see him again but a small part of him hoped that he had. With a shake of his head, he reminded himself, “Don’t be selfish. Mahiru is better off without you.”

Despite those words, Kuro found himself gravitating to Mahiru. They hadn’t seen each other for a year but he hadn’t changed in that time. His face still had the soft and vulnerable expression whenever he slept and the sight made Kuro feel protective of him. Mahiru moved in his sleep and he almost fell off the stool but then Kuro caught him. “You could’ve chosen a better place to sleep.”

He slipped an arm under Mahiru’s knees and supported his back with his other hand. Slowly, he lifted Mahiru off the chair and took him to a lounge chair in the corner of the bar. When he held him close to his chest, he could smell alcohol on his breath. Had he been drinking before he fell asleep at the bar? He would have to lecture his brother about letting him drink too much.

Kuro was careful to not wake him as he lowered him onto the lounge couch. Then, he took off his jacket and draped it over Mahiru so he would be warm. He sat next to him and considered what he should do. Should he wake him and talk? Would it be best to have one of his siblings wake him and send him home?

They hadn’t spoken since the break up and Kuro wondered if college had been stressful on Mahiru. There were dark circles under his eyes so he was likely tired and needed sleep. He decided that it was best to let him sleep on the couch and watch over him. A part of him knew that he chose to let him sleep so he could avoid facing him again.

Unconsciously, he started to stroke his brown hair like he would in the past. Mahiru’s face relaxed under his touch and the small change squeezed Kuro’s heart. One of the things he loved about Mahiru was how honest his expressions were. Seeing him again brought back the regret he thought he had let go. They would call each other a few times after he moved to his new school but Kuro eventually stopped picking up his phone. It was painful to hear his voice when he couldn’t hold him.

“Kuro…” He spoke again. Mahiru turned on his side and hugged the jacket around him. The subtle scent of spices and seasoning that clung to the jacket reminded him of Kuro. In high school, he would visit him after the bar closed and his clothes would smell like spices from working in the kitchen. He realized that the cushions beneath him felt much stiffer than his bed and he sat up in confusion.

His eyes fell onto Kuro next to him. Mahiru opened his mouth to say his name yet he couldn’t form words. He had imagined a thousand different things he would say to Kuro if he ever met him again. They were a happy couple and he didn’t understand why Kuro suddenly broke up with him. He was upset and angry at first but now he only wanted an explanation.

Kuro was the first to speak. “You fell asleep on the counter and I was worried you would fall off the chair. I moved you onto the couch. Do you have a headache or feel sick? I can call a cab to take you home if you can’t drive. Your eyes look alert but your face is a little flushed.”

“I only had two drinks. That’s not enough to make me drunk even if I’m a lightweight.” Mahiru didn’t tell him that his blush was caused by how close Kuro was. He tried to stand but his legs were a little unsteady beneath him. His gaze fell to the ground in embarrassment and sank back onto the chair. A hand fell over his shoulder and he looked back to Kuro.

There was only kindness in his red eyes and Mahiru bit his lip. “Don’t look at me like that, Kuro. You’re going to give me the wrong idea of how you feel.”

“I’m sorry.” He took his hand back and sat next to him on the couch. Kuro didn’t want to see the pain in his else because he knew he would try to comfort him if he did. He broke his heart and he thought he didn’t deserve to hold him. An awkward silence surrounded them and he searched for something to change the subject. “Are you here on break?”

“The first semester ended and I decided to come home to visit my uncle. I’ve been busy with classes and I haven’t been able to stay in touch with everyone. I should go home before my uncle starts to worry. He isn’t as paranoid as Misono’s dad but I don’t want to make him worry.” Mahiru stood and slipped on the jacket. He didn’t notice that the jacket belonged to Kuro. “The cold air will help me become sober again.”

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered. “It’s dangerous to walk alone in the dark, especially when you’re tipsy. We already closed the bar so my siblings don’t need me here anymore.”

“Thank you.” Mahiru accepted but there was a brief moment of hesitation in his voice. He didn’t say anything further as he stepped out of the bar with Kuro by his side. The cold air made him shiver and he pulled the jacket’s zipper higher. He realized that he had put on Kuro’s jacket unintentionally yet he hadn’t commented on it. He reasoned that he could return the jacket once they reached his home.

He lived only a few blocks from the pub and Mahiru found himself dragging his feet to spend more time with Kuro. When he visited the bar, he hoped he could see Kuro again and speak with him. He ordered a few drinks for courage but he ended up falling asleep on the counter. Mahiru watched Kuro in the corner of his eyes. “How has business been?”

“We’ve gotten more customers. Since I graduated, I’ve been putting more hours into the pub and that helped keep down costs. Hopefully, the pub will bring in enough money to put Hugh and the others through school.” Their father had abandoned their family and Kuro did his best to support his younger siblings. Mahiru knew how important his family was so he couldn’t leave them. “What about you, Mahiru? I heard that your photos were featured in your college’s showcase.”

“Yes. I must’ve taken a thousand photos for the showcase. Art school is more work than people like to joke about.” Mahiru smiled wearily. “I threw myself into my work because I wanted to distract myself from our breakup. I couldn’t fully forget you though. The day I had to choose a photo to submit to the showcase, I came across this old picture. It was the reason I wanted to be a professional photographer.”

Mahiru took out a picture from when they were younger. The edges of the paper were worn from age. In the photograph, Kuro was asleep with a cat resting on his chest. “I wanted to take pictures of experiences and landscapes to share with others. While I was in class, each time I took a photo, I thought ‘I can’t wait to show this to Kuro’. Then I had to remind myself we broke up.”

“You deserve someone better than me, Mahiru.” Kuro stopped walking. “I’m sorry.”

“When you broke up with me, you said that it was because you cheated on me. I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. We’ve known each other for years and you’re not the type to cheat. It’ll be too troublesome.” Mahiru stood in front of Kuro and faced him. He cupped his cheeks and moved his gaze down to him. “Can you lie to my face and say you cheated on me?”

“I…” He started but then he looked into Mahiru’s large eyes. Kuro didn’t know how he was able to lie to him before. He had lied to him when they broke up because he knew Mahiru wouldn’t accept his true reason. He would’ve insisted that they try to have a long distance relationship but Kuro was worried it would hold Mahiru back. “I’m sorry, Mahiru.”

“For cheating or lying to me? Please, Kuro, I need to know why you broke up with me.” His voice started to break in time with his heart. “I loved you and I thought you felt the same way.”

Suddenly, Kuro gathered him into his arms and buried his face into his neck. He held him tight but Mahiru didn’t mind and hugged him in return. He slowly ran his hand down his back to feel his warmth after being apart for so long. Mahiru whispered, “Why did you lie to me?”

“I thought if I hurt you by lying, you wouldn’t have any regrets going to college. That school has been your dream for years. I need to be here to support my siblings and I don’t have a lot to give you. If anything, I’ll hold you back from your dreams.” Kuro didn’t lift his face from his neck and Mahiru could feel his warm breath against his skin.

“I understand, Kuro, I really do. Your family is important to you and I could never ask you to move to Tokyo where my school is. But couldn’t you have talked to me instead of breaking up with me the way you did? It hurt.” Kuro leaned back and tenderly ran his hand over his cheek to comfort him. Mahiru touched his hand and looked up at him.

Mahiru lifted himself onto his toes and kissed Kuro softly. “I could’ve gone to school in Tokyo and still date you. It would’ve been a lot of work but I’m willing to do it if it meant I can be with you. Aren’t we worth the effort?”

“You’re one of the most important things to me.” Kuro brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed his fingertips softly. “I thought I was doing what was best for your future by leaving but I only hurt you. I’m sorry, Mahiru. Will you take me back?”

“That’s the reason I came to your bar.” Mahiru smiled up at him. “Will you stay the night at my apartment? We have a lot to catch up on.”