#I love these four and this drawing is endlessly amusing to me

[skialdi]

“Which sibling tried to kill Luffy?”

[nctsworld]

completely floored

✩ jeno x reader | best friends to lovers | fluff | smut | 1.5k

SUMMARY | who knew gaming on the floor like you two used to could change everything between you and your best friend? WARNINGS | smut, floor s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) RATING | mature PROMPT | staring at each other’s lips for a moment before giving in REQ BY | anonymous

AUTHOR’S NOTE | bless up for the boring jalapeno teasers to give me inspo and i’ve been wanting to write jeno for a long time so hehe i also haven’t played uno in forever sorry if there’s anything off

In Jeno’s basement rental suite, you two are sitting comfortably near each other on his carpeted floor, playing Halo together with your backs leaning against his worn-down sofa. 

“You doing okay?” Jeno asks with care, glancing over at your side of the TV screen where you’re blatantly struggling to stay alive from the onslaught of enemies. His gaze then falls on you for a second. 

“Yep, doing great,” you singsong, sarcasm laced in your tone. He catches sight of you sticking out your tongue in frustration.

Jeno’s not sure why the expression from you comes off more cute to him than usual. He smiles to himself in amusement and turns his attention back to the game.

It’s been about six months since you’ve last hung out one on one with him. Third year of university has been busy for both of you, but you’ve managed to find some free time now that finals were finally over this semester. 

And it feels exactly like old times from high school when you two used to sit on the floor at his parents’ house, gaming until the sun rose.

But things have definitely changed since then.

Like how gorgeous Jeno has gotten.

When you unsurprisingly die and have to wait to respawn until Jeno plows through the current batch of enemies, you waste your time in noticing his chiseled jaw line, the sexiness in his confident grin, and the raw attractiveness that exudes from him. 

You shake your thoughts away, attributing them to how you probably just missed hanging out with him, along with the fact that you’ve been single for way too long. 

After a couple more rounds of Halo, Uno replaces it as the next game of choice. Still on the floor, you’re now facing each other. About a few feet apart from you, Jeno has a leg pulled nearby to his chest, his arm resting on his raised knee. On the flipside, you’re sitting with lax legs bent onto their sides, parallel to the carpet. 

The early rounds of Uno are peaceful, but as it progresses, playful competitiveness emerges. The game shifts drastically when Jeno suddenly plays a handful of draw four cards. 

Your jaw swings open, shocked that he held onto so many for so long, and you complain about the unfairness of the situation. Smugly, Jeno shrugs and retorts back that’s simply how the game works. 

Twisting your mouth to one side and squinting your eyes, you then drop your cards in a teasing state of anger and launch yourself towards him. Your best friend merely laughs as you attempt to punch him in the arm. 

However, things take an unexpected turn. You lose balance and accidentally topple him down towards the carpet, your chest pressing atop of his.

Your faces are inches apart from one another. You’re both heavily breathing, practically inhaling the other’s air.

Each parties’ eyes flickers towards the other’s lips. Your gaze lingers longer than it should and you reprimand yourself because this is your best friend—your drop, dead gorgeous best friend who is looking at your lips with the same craving. 

Chest to chest, your hearts race together, pounding against the other almost in sync. Carefully, with a gulp, Jeno gently palms your cheek. Your eyelids flutter to a close.

Lips meet and collide, and you lay your hands on the planes of his chest. You’ve always felt safe around Jeno, but you’ve never felt more safe with him than like this. 

Soon enough, the kissing escalates, transforming into ones that drip of neediness and burning desire. Your touches dig deeper into each other. Throughout it, your shirt is thrown aside and you quickly attach yourself back onto him to help him rid of his layers.

Marking his body with a trail of hot kisses, you slowly make your descent towards his significantly hard desire. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new, but now that you have him up-close and all to yourself, you traverse his beauty without hurry. 

Peeking up at him when you reach his abs, you see him looking right back with an intent, ravenous stare. Because you’re not used to it, you feel a tingle in your cheeks and brush some hair behind your ear as you continue your trek.

Once at your destination, you strip him of his jeans and brief-boxers. Gasping silently at the sight, his sizable cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. You lick your lips, wanting his length immediately in your mouth. Instead, you restrain yourself and leave feathery kisses upon it.

Jeno sighs at the minimal sensation, his erection twitching in yearning for more. His sighs melt, replaced by sharp gasps and the ruffling of eyebrows as you devour him whole. For what you can’t engulf with your mouth, you pump with your hand.

“God...” he pants, eyeing you closely with with his hands behind his head, bare arms flexing delectably. Saliva begins to pool around his base as you suck endlessly. He peels a hand away and runs his fingers through your hair. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Coming up for air, you chuckle as you stroke him steadily. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked you off.” 

“No.” Jeno strongly disagrees, a stern glimmer obvious in his eye. Shaking his head, he rises onto his forearms and leans in right up to your face. 

Your best friend whispers the following into your mouth as he rubs his thumb tenderly over your cheek—

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” 

Another kiss, but this time, lips are crashing fiercely, like it’s the last time you’d ever kiss anybody. Jeno caresses your upper body and similarly, your hand continues to squeeze and jerk him off. Impatiently, you stand to hurriedly remove your bra and tug your bottoms off. 

Jeno’s tongue drags along his lower jaw when you rush to your purse to grab a condom; he watches attentively at the perfect view of your ass.

You scuttle back and ease the rubber onto him, and within seconds, you’re sitting on his length. Once he’s completely inside, an acute throaty moan pierces the room and your head cranes back. You’ve never had anyone fill you up so full before, and yet, it doesn’t take much time to acclimatize to his girth.

Riding him, you bounce relentlessly with your weight on your knees and your hands graze his upper frame. You’re gone, blinded by ecstasy, but Jeno’s hazy look doesn’t stray from you. 

His pretty fingers glide upward over your stomach, then over your breasts. At first, he thumbs your nipples to play with you prior to kneading them hungrily in their entirety.

Without warning, Jeno seizes your back with one hand and brings himself up, snatching your breasts into his mouth. 

“Fuck, Jeno,” you exhale in pleasure, sinking your nails into his flexed back and shoulders. “What are we doing?” 

“Do you wanna stop?” he asks between the snug puckering of his lips around your nubs. 

“No, no,” you immediately reply, shaking your head profusely. “You feel too fucking good...” 

When he’s finished loving your breasts, you gesture for him to lean back down during a kiss. Like before when you fell on him in the beginning, your chests are glued together again, this time now sans clothes. 

Your lips maneuver over to his neck, attacking him with kisses, and you fuck him with the your ass jutting out. The wet slaps of your sexes intermingling, Jeno’s panting, and your whines penetrate your surroundings.

“I’m close, I’m close...” he says, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in timing for what’s about to happen. 

Dragging yourself away from his neck, you kiss him fervently while you fasten your pace. He moans into your mouth as he unravels, his sweaty palms relaxing against your perspired back. You follow right after, practically reaching your peaks together.

After a few moments, you roll off and lay beside him. Both of you pant towards the ceiling in disbelief. The disbelief that runs through you is immersed with an underlying fear. 

“Maybe I should get going...” you say unsurely, sitting up and looking at your clothes at the other side of the floor. 

Just because you’ve had sex with him, it doesn’t mean Jeno still isn’t your best friend, nor does it rid of the fact that he knows your change of emotions like the back of his hand. He sits up too, warmly wraps an arm around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your nude arm. 

“How about one more game?” he mumbles into your skin. 

“Which game?” you whisper curiously.

One more peck, this time on your cheek. 

“The game called Stay the Night.”

Your head turns to face him, gazes converging. He flashes you his saccharine smile, his eyes following suit and smiling as well.

“Can’t play it without you, but only if you want to.” He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, causing you to giggle. “What do you say?” 

You get lost in his eyes, realizing that maybe you’ve always had something for Jeno, whether you were conscious of it or not.

Despite it all, you know your feelings aren’t unrequited. They can’t be, not with the way he’s looking at you as if you’re his entire world right now. 

In response to his proposition, you lean in for another kiss. It’s definitely not the last kiss you give him tonight. 

Not by a long shot.

[dabisburntsack]

False Alarm

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing(s): Shigaraki Tomura x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff !

Synopsis: When your long time gaming partner brings up the topic of May Day you can’t help but romanticise the olden holiday with your ever growing crush on him.

Wordcount: 1784

This is apart of a sfw flower collab done with the bnharem discord server! I loved the prompt for this collab and can’t wait to see how everyones fics turned out!! Special thanks to @pluviophile-imagines for helping my ass through this as I had a mental breakdown٩( ᐛ )و

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

⇾  signifies texting

May Day was a traditional holiday, one you wouldn’t have really heard of had your long time online gaming partner not brought it up in discussion as you fought against him to bring down the zombies on your screen.

“Yeah you pretty much leave a basket full of flowers with different meanings to them hanging on a loved ones door”

“I would have never pegged you for the romantic type” You replied amused.

“I’m- well, I’m... I would never do it-”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Pffft no, of course not”

“Shame, I think it's really romantic!”

The line went quiet, the only audible sound being the cock of guns and explosions going off in the game. You readjusted your mic wondering if he’d cut off when his voice came again; though quieter than the usual responses you would get.

“You think?”

“Yeah! Come onnn, tell me that isn’t the cutest thing ever”

The line paused again for the briefest moment, but when he finally continued speaking the conversation switched back to gameplay as if the short discussion about May Day had never occured. You shrugged and went back to chatting aimlessly about zombies yourself, though a small part of you may have wanted to carry on with the romance talk.

You had known the player ‘Decay_God’ for going on 3 years now and were as close as online friends could be. From what you’d gathered over the years, Tenko worked at a bar and had a shit ton of roommates. Though he constantly went on about how annoying they were, you could tell he cared deeply for them. He was passionate about what he did, whether it be his job (you didn’t know what exactly it was, just that his mood in your games would be whether or not he had received good news from his end) or his game play.

In the beginning, you didn’t really like him or his attitude; both being highly ranked in the gaming community you would constantly butt heads and his childish behaviour of when you would steal a victory off him annoyed you to no end. But as it went on, his temper tantrums died down and once you got to know him, you found his quips and wit to be quite entertaining. Now two years later, you would look forward to getting home from a stressful day at work to endlessly chatter about whatever topic was of the day.

You couldn’t lie, you had garnered a bit of a crush on him.

You didn’t even know what this man looked like. He could be a catfish! An old perverted dude! Hell he could even be a criminal and you’d be none the wiser! Although, if you were being honest with yourself… you couldn’t help but make the obvious connection to a certain infamous villain. One that happened to have pale blue hair and a decaying quirk. Even in personality they seemed interchangeable, from what you had seen on the news he was also akin to throwing childish temper tantrums and scratching at his neck when frustrated (a habit you regularly scolded Tenko for when you heard the telltale sound nails scraping along side the column of his neck.)

Whenever you did think about it though you stopped yourself, come on as if you would be gaming with Shig- no, you weren’t even going to say his name. So they had a few similarities, this was a whole villain compared to your sweet gaming partner. Dumb conspiracy theories aside, you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart when he would say your name in a teasing manner or when he praised you for a particularly hard kill.

As you logged off for the night you laid your head against the wall your bed was propped next to and stared at the blank ceiling, your mind drifting back to the May Day conversation. A blushing Tenko came to your mind, his face obscured by a large hood, nervously rubbing at the back of his head before handing you a large bouquet of flowers. Your cheeks flushed and you slapped at them to stop yourself from heating up, vanishing the mental image mid thought.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much of a small crush as you wanted it to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After having a three day break, getting ready for work so early in the morning proved more effort than it should have been. Still trying to blink the sleep out of your eyes, you dragged your dazed body to your front door. You checked yourself for your belongings as you unlocked it, but as you took your first step out your foot landed in...ash?

You lifted your shoe to inspect the little decaying bits stuck to it, looking down you realised there was a pile of decayed dust on your doorstep.

You paled.

Instantly you were on high alert, tearing your foot from the contaminated shoe and snapping a picture of the evidence. You placed the shoe in a bag for further examination and bolted your door before texting your boss, the number four hero: Edgeshot.

Having the job of a personal assistant to such a high ranked hero meant you were used to lives being threatened. So far it had never happened to you and although this was small you could never be too sure. With the inside information you had, Edgeshot had always told you to be aware that someone may pull something sooner or later. It wasn’t completely out of the blue.

After seeing your message to your boss had been delivered, you reached out for the metal baseball bat you kept in the storage cupboard under the stairs, your quirk not really suited for defence purposes as it was made for technological aspects.

Checking every nook and cranny of your small apartment you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and flopped back onto the sofa. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair before going through your phone, checking the news, any odd sightings, anything you should possibly be alert for.

However crime rates seemed to be low and the only recent stories were from three days ago. Still not having received a text back from Edgeshot, you automatically switched to your messages with Tenko to type out the events of your morning.

I think I just got threatened lol

Instant response.

WHAT?!

If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours call the police :DD

Y/N

Ok okaY, damn you’re such a buzzkill

There was a pile of ash on my doorstep this morning, with my work you know I can never be too careful 

I’m fine though, I already told my boss

You waited as three dots appeared signifying he was typing but after a while they stopped. You furrowed your brows as they started up and stopped multiple times. After a full five minutes (during which time you grew bored and changed apps) a ping popped up.

With how long he had taken to type you were expecting a lengthy paragraph, what you weren’t expecting was a simple:

Oh

Oh? That’s all?

Yeah

You placed down your phone before another ping sounded out.

Are you sure they weren’t flowers

How the hell did you come to that conclusion

The typing ceased once more and you were left to your thoughts. What the hell did he mean by that? How did he come up with flowers out of all things like-

May Day?

You leapt from your seat, stumbling to look at the calendar attached to your kitchen wall, scanning the dates crossed off before turning the page and realising it was indeed the first of May. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence Tenko had brought up the holiday just yesterday. So he’d brought you flowers, because you said it was romantic… and he’d… dusted them. Dusted them, with his quirk, because he was…

Tenko could not be Shigaraki Tomura.

You did not have a crush on Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

Luckily at that moment the chime of your phone's ringtone going off distracted you. Looking at the caller ID you breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was Edgeshot. You could finally get to the bottom of this instead of drawing up ridiculous conclusions.

Edgeshot’s calm voice came through the other end of the line, stern but familiar. It seemed you’d been right to take the situation seriously, or so he assured you. But even as he talked to you, asking if you’d seen anything or if there was any other evidence of someone watching you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t meant anything at all.

Of course, if your gut instinct was right and you’d been gaming (and falling for) Shigaraki Tomura for three whole years and he’d been trying to romance you then that was. Definitely something. You just weren’t entirely sure what that something was.

You’d been talking to Edgeshot for nearly two hours when a knock sounded on your front door. Had he come by? What was the point of ringing, then? And wouldn’t he have told you?

You made your way over to the door and opened it expecting the sight of your boss, but instead you were met with a large bouquet of flowers perched on your doorstep. You looked up just in time to see a mess of unruly blue hair tucked into a black hoodie turning rapidly round the corner.

“False alarm,” you said quickly, ending the call on pure impulse and making a dash after the stranger.

You weren’t entirely sure what the plan was. It seemed more and more likely that you were right with each new development. What were you going to do if your gamer buddy really was an S-rank villain? Would you still be interested? Would he? He’d gone through the trouble of  getting you flowers not just once but twice, and honestly… the idea that he’d been so nervous the first time was kind of endearing.

That was a cute image, him standing at your door, so worried that he didn’t even notice he’d dusted the flowers in his hand as he set them down, probably running away quickly so you wouldn’t see him.

You reached out to grab the sleeve of your fleeing visitor and as they whirled round your suspicion after all this time was proven correct. You were speaking the moment his eyes met yours, all hesitation suddenly gone.

“You can’t just leave me flowers and run off like that, what if I thought it was another threat?”

Shigaraki’s scarlet eyes widened as they met your own.

“Hey Tenko” you grinned.

[blacknight1230]

The Past Catches Up With You

OUAT Peter Pan Imagine

Prompt: “I know what I have to do. But going back means I’ll have to face my past. I’ve been running from it for so long” & “Once you’re grown up, you can never come back.” 

The sound if arrows flying through the air then hitting their target and the clashing of swords filled the area. “Nice one, Devin. Now try letting go of the arrow when you breath out,” you instructed one of the Lost Boys. Devin wordlessly nodded and did what you told him, his arrow hitting the target dummy straight in the head. “Excellent work. Rufio, don’t do such fancy moves. It’s about hitting the target in the weak points, not showing off,” you commanded. “Whatever you say, mom,” Rufio sassed, ignoring your helpful tips. You narrowed your eyes at him and strode up to him, quickly knocking him off his feet with a few well placed punches and kicks. “And this is why Pan ordered me to train you boys. You guys are good fighters, but he wants the best, so you either listen to what I say or you’ll end up worse than this,” you scolded the dazed teen. You walked away, towards Pan’s second-in-command, and one of your best friends, Felix. 

“Nice way to show them who’s boss, (y/n),” Felix complemented as he sharpened his sword. “Thanks, Felix. These boys have sure have authority problems when it comes to someone other than Pan giving them orders,” you said, sitting next to Felix on a log. “They listen to me, though,” Felix pointed out. “True. I have theory that they don’t respect me as much cause I’m the only girl here. And I happen to be one of Pan’s most trustworthy,” you told the scar-faced teen. “It’s possible. The boys aren’t too keen on newcomers. You being a girl doesn’t make matters better.” You rolled your eyes; you’ve been here for a couple of years, but time on Neverland was different than everywhere else. “I’ve earned this position despite being a girl. They should know that Pan doesn’t just trust me without a proper reason,” you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Speak of the devil,” Felix said, motioning his head towards a figure appearing from the green foliage. 

Peter Pan stood to the side of the training ground, eyes intensely watching the boys as they practiced archery, swording fighting, and sparring. Authority and dark magical power radiated from his figure, his green eyes glowing as they seemingly stared into the very existence of his Lost Boys. He was expressionless as he mentally noted what the boys were doing wrong and right. The sight before you made you feel warm, but you tried not to show how the piper affected you. Said boy locked eyes with you, a smirk breaking out onto his lips as he strode over to you. “Tired, love. Are the boys too much for you to handle?” he teased, raising one magnificently sculpted eyebrow. “More like they can’t handle me. Rufio over there is still bandaging his hurt pride when I knocked him to the ground for back talking,” you chuckled, eyeing said boy. He was grumpily pouting on a wooden log across from where you were. Peter found this rather amusing, a sly smirk on his face. “His loss, love. Come, I think the boys had enough training for today,” he said, getting up from the log. He whistled loudly, getting all the, boys attention and told them, “Alright, boys training’s over! Get back to camp if you want your fill of dinner before its gone!” 

A stampede of hungry, teenage boys rushed towards the main camp, dirt and dust flying as they did so. You camly got up and followed the horde of Lost Boys, used to their frenzied antics. Peter walked alongside you, as you took your time walking the path back to the main camp. “I’m still surprised you can put up with our rowdiness. Being a princess and all, I’d expect you complain endlessly about how ‘wild’ we are,” Peter said as you traveled through the jungle of Neverland. “Hey, I was a rebel princess. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t even be here,” you defended yourself, punching the King of Neverland playfully, but hard, in the arm. Pan allowed you to hit him, as you knew he could easily stop you, and playfully cried out in pain. 

Before you were the first Lost Girl on Neverland, you were a princess, although not first in line to inherit your kingdom. Unlike the other inhabitants of Neverland, you were not from the Enchanted Forest or the Land Without Magic. You were a princess from another dimension, and you hated your royal roots. You hated the stuffy dresses, the countless rules, the strict and stone faced members of the royal house ... hell, you couldn’t even talk to or hang out with anyone that wasn’t humanoid or a royal non-humanoid from an allied kingdom. Like the monsters that were repressed by your people. It was suffocating and you didn’t conform to your families strict ideals. 

As such, your family finally had enough of your “rebelliousness” and decided to send you off to an institution know for “correcting” wayward princesses. You, in turn, had enough of royalty and fled your home without a word, seeking out the freedom you dearly longed for. Eventually, you found your way to Neverland, encountering Pan and his Lost Boys, who met your arrival with them encircling you with weapons drawn, aimed to kill. The only reason you were still alive today was that you were able to hear Pan’s flute, meaning you were lost, and therefore part of the Lost Boys. It took awhile for everyone to trust you, especially Pan, but it happened and you were never felt more like you were home. 

Back to the present, you and Peter finally reached the main camp, a raging bonfire going on in the middle of the layout of tents and huts. The boys were either chowing down or were dancing to the beat of the drums. Peter left you to go include himself in the boys merry making as you grabbed a bite to eat. Grabbing a slice of meat from the day’s hunt, you silently greeted a few of the boys with a raise of your cup. The younger boys dragged you to sit with them, happily chatting away as they told you about their day. 

Soon you were done with your meal and the music called to you. Like you were under a spell, you jumped into the frey of wildly dancing bodies, letting the music guide your movements. You danced freely with your fellow lost brothers, your mind focusing on the sound of the pan flute and the drums. As you danced around the fire, you saw Peter staring intensely at you with his green eyes, the light of the bonfire casting shadows across his face, intensifying the strikingness of his attractive features. You couldn’t help but keep his gaze as you danced, enjoying the way he was looking at you with such intensity, an undistinguishable emotion flowing in his eyes. 

Unfortunately, the party was interrupted by a loud sound and a bright light. Everyone stopped in the middle of what they were doing, staring at a hole ripped into the fabric of space and time right near the center of the campgrounds. The portal seemed to shine brighter as two figures appeared from the other side of it. As they stepped through, the portal closed behind them, allowing you to see their features now that the unnatural brightness was gone. One of the figures was a teenage boy, characterized with tan skin, dark brown hair, and a mole on his right cheek. He was wearing red hoodie over a light grey shirt, dark grey skinny jeans, and olive/white sneakers on his slender build. His brown eyes eyed the Lost Boys nervously, his hand twitching over the hilt of the sword in his sheath. The other figure was a teenage girl with long blonde hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin. On her head, she wore a magenta headband with devil horns, paired with a green and mint collared short sleeved dress, pink and purple striped leggings, white boots with pink tips and a star on each heel, along with a black spider necklace. But the most astonishing part about the girl was the pink heart shaped marks she had on her cheeks. 

Peter and the Lost Boys immediately surrounded the two newcomers, weapons pointed at them. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my island?” Peter growled. The boy immediately pulled out his sword and took a defensive stance. The girl on the other hand, raised her hands up and yelled, “Stop! We’re not here to hurt anyone! We’re just looking for someone!” Peter dismissed her claim, saying, “Whoever you are looking for is not here! Now leave before my boys and I make you wish you never stepped foot here!” The boy raised their weapons, slowly drawing closer to the new girl and boy. The girl now raised her up hands up and took a defensive stance, her hands glowing purple with magic. 

Before any violence could come to a head, you shouted a command out to the Lost Boys and Peter, breaking the tense air. “Everyone put your weapons down!” you shouted, voice strong and dominating. The Lost Boys, confused by the order, slightly lowered their weapons and allowed you to walk through the crowd of them to the new visitors. As you showed yourself to the newcomers, the blonde haired girl’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. “ (Y/n)?” the girl said. “Star,” you said breathlessly, unable to bite back the smile that made its way to your face. Star’s hands stopped glowing and she tackled you ina hug, which you gladly returned. “Um, what’s going on?” the hoodie wearing boy asked, completely clueless. “Marco, this is my cousin I told you about? I’m pretty sure I told you about my favorite family member,” Star explained, looking at her friend while still holding on you. 

“Oh, isn’t this precious,” Pan sneered, interrupting the moment. “A family reunion. How wonderful that they’ve come to visit.” You decided to ignore Peter and his terrible attitude, continuing to talk to your four-years younger cousin. “How did you find me, Star? Neverland isn’t on any map and can’t be visited through ordinary means,” you asked. “I was able to use your old tiara to finding out what dimension you were in! Pretty cool right,” Star bragged a giant smile on her face. Before you could say another word, Peter got in between the two of you, creating a distance of a few feet. “Peter!” you exclaimed angrily. “What the hell?” “I don’t care that you’re her family. I want you off my island. (y/n) has already told me about the way you treated her and I don’t want someone like you here because of it,” he coldly told Star. “Hey, man, back off!” Star’s friend, Marco, yelled stepping in front of Star protectively. The Lost Boys didn’t like this, murder in their eyes as they crowded around you four, fingers itching to use their weapons. “Everyone stop! I don’t want any fighting!” you shouted, dreading for any blows coming to a head. The Lost Boys slightly calmed down, but they were still tense. 

“Peter, Star was the only one in my family that I could be myself around. I see I rubbed off on you a bit,” you said. “You guys keep talking about our family as if they were abusive, keeping you locked up and so on,” Star pointed out. “I forget you were too young to understand at the time. Grandma Etheria and the rest of the Butterfly family constantly looked down at me, finding fault in everything I did. I didn’t dress right, talk right, sit right, walk right ... and they let me know. It practically destroyed my self-esteem. And to make matter worse, Grandma Etheria decided to send me to St. Olga’s,” you explained to your younger cousin. “Oh no, not St. O’s!” Star exclaimed in horror. “Please don’t tell me they tried to turn you into a mindless ‘perfect’ princess!” As she said this, she grabbed your forearms and shook you a bit. “Calm down, Star, I didn’t go to St. O’s. I left home before I was forcibly shipped off. I had a pair of dimension scissors and used them to hop from dimension to dimension until I eventually found my way here,” you continued, smiling when you reminisced about finding Neverland, your true home. 

“I’m happy you found a place you could finally be yourself. If I wasn’t so desperate for your help, I wouldn’t even ask you this,” Star said. This worried you; what did she want you to do? Star quickly answered your question before you voiced it, saying, “I need you to come back to Mewni with me.” “What?!” you shouted, eyes wide and mouth agape. “I’m sorry, but I really need your help! My mom has disappeared and I can’t find her, the Butterfly castle and kingdom are destroyed by Eclipsa’s half-monster daughter and she escaped her crystal! I can’t do this on my own and everything is in disarray!” Star cried. 

All this new information shocked you, making you stand there in silence. Peter decided to step in, angrily setting in Star’s face. “You might be royalty, but I’m the king here. I say who steps foot on and leaves my island. This includes (y/n). Since she’s lost, that means she belongs here and with me. Shfe’s mine, and she’s not going anywhere off this island,” he threatened. Star stood her ground, staring into his harsh green eyes that seemed to glow with dark power. “Then you don’t know (y/n), because she hates other people making choices for her.” She turned towards you and continues, saying, “(y/n), I’m sorry for our family treating you so terribly and I understand your reason for running away. But I still care for you and so does my mother, both of us missing you terribly when you left. If you still love us as much as we love you, I beg you to help me. I need you, my mom needs you, Mewni needs you!” 

(y/n) could only stand there in silence, which Peter mistook for her not wanting to return to her home, while in reality she was pondering over her beloved cousin’s words. “Get off my island. I never want to see your faces again,” he threatened, before whistling loudly, causing the Lost Boys to snap into a a violent, wild frenzy. The area was quickly filled with the sounds of weapons clashing, cries of pain, and angry shouts as Star and Marco fought the Lost Boys. Luckily, Star and Marco were successfully able to defend themselves, despite being greatly outnumbered. Star’s voice filled the air as she shouted spells and Marco yelled as he used karate moves/defended himself with his sword. You tried yelling at both sides to stop fighting, but neither side listened to you, either not hearing you over all the noise or not caring enough to listen to you. This made you angry, so angry you used your magic to cast a powerful spell to end the violence. 

Unlike Star, you didn't need to verbally say a spell to use your magic, simply sending out a wave of bluish-white magic to emit from your magically glowing figure. As the wave of magic hit the Lost Boys, Peter, Star, and Marco, they were enveloped into a quartz of crystal, frozen in place. You sighed as you stood past the crystal prisons of your fellow Lost Boys, stopping at Peter’s crystal, staring at his evil smirk on his face and the magic accumulated in his hands. “You just couldn’t wait and let me think for a moment could you, “ you said sadly. You used your magic to reverse the spell, and on Star and Marco as well. The three teens fell to the ground, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry, guys. This was the only way to get you to stop fighting and listen to me,” you apologized, helping Star up first. “Was that the Crystal Imprisonment Spell that Rhombulas uses? Where did you learn it?” Star asked, amazed that you could do such advanced magic. “Glossaryck used to give me private lessons. He said that I needed to learn magic, too, in case something happens. But he wasn’t specific on what that was,” (y/n) explained. “That sounds like Glossaryck.” 

You turned towards Peter as he growled, getting up from the ground and his green eyes trained on you. “You little ... How dare you use your magic on me!” he yelled, “Release the Lost Boys right now (y/n)!” “You left me no choice, Peter. You all were attacking my family and I couldn’t just stay by,” you said sternly, brows furrowed as you scolded him. “How can you defend them? They’re the main reason why you are on Neverland in the first place! Or haven’t you forgot that?” Pan seethed. “I haven’t forgotten what they did to me, Pan. But this just isn’t about my family anymore. My homeland is in danger and you’re wrong to think I’ll just sit around and watch shit hit the fan!” you yelled, turning around to walk away, thinking that was the end of it. But it wasn’t and Pan wanted to let you know it. “Oh really? Well, know this, princess, you’ll eventually be disappointed as nothing is going to change. You’ll still be the miserable, insecure, little girl you were when you came here, scrutinized by your family and your people,” Peter threatened, teeth clenched and pure hatred seeping from his pores. 

You stopped, back still facing Peter. Said boy smirked, thinking he won this argument. But what you said surprised the male, saying, without looking at him, “I know what I have to do now, Peter. I know going back means I’ll have to face my past. I’ve been running from it for so long but I have to face it sooner or later. And I choose now.” Pan stood there shocked, mouth open a bit as he contemplated your words, and watched as Marco effortlessly opened a portal to another dimension with a pair of scissors, then entered the hole in the fabric of time and space while mumbling about ‘nachos,’ whatever that was. Star on the other hand, nervously looked behind her at Peter, seemingly contemplating if taking (y/n) away from her current home was a good thing, before regretfully entering the swirling portal. 

Before the (h/c) haired girl followed the two, she turned her head to the side, looking at so called King of Neverland. “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can, Peter, to my home, the Lost Boys, and you,” she said, so much raw emotion held in her eyes. But Peter didn’t care, only focussing on the frustration that took over his heart and mind. “I forbid you from leaving, (y/n)! When you leave this island, you’ll eventually grow up, and once you’re grown up, you can never come back!” he shouted angrily. (Y/n) physically flinched and quickly turned her head back towards the portal, trying not to show the tears in the corners of her eyes. “Goodbye, Peter. Until we meet again.” And with those words, she stepped through the portal and left Neverland, seemingly forever. 

As the portal closed behind her, (y/n)’s magic seemed to leave with her, as the crystals imprisoning the Lost Boys started to melt, freeing them from their containment. Felix was the first to get his bearings, stroding over to Peter and placing a hand on his shoulder, said King of Neverland not tearing his eyes away from the spot in which (y/n) walked into the portal. “Pan, what happened? Where’s (y/n) and the other two?” Felix asked his fearless leader, a scowl on his scarred face. “She’s gone, Felix. She left Neverland,” Peter told his second-in-command emotionlessly. 

Before the taller male could question him some more, the green-clad boy turned and walked away from the center of the campgrounds, towards his own private tent. Felix knew he was taking the Lost Girl’s departure harder than he let on. But he gave his trustful leader some space, allowing Peter to let his emotions loose in private. “(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing,” Felix said quietly to himself, before moving to help his fellow Lost Boys recover from the recent events.

~ Time Skip ~

“Again! I expect you to redo everything until you lot get this right! I have no excuse for weak, boys in my army of Lost Boys!” Peter seethed. It was several months, possibly a year, since (y/n) left Peter and Neverland. At first, Peter was angry, at (y/n) and her cousin, for leaving Neverland. Then, he was angry at himself for letting the Lost Girl leave, thinking he should have done everything he could from letting the girl leave. Eventually, Peter’s anger faded away and was replaced with a longing to see his favorite girl again. It was only until (y/n) left did Peter realize he felt something for the rebel princess, seeing her more as just another inhabitant of Neverland and a pawn in his games. And when he realized this non-platonic feelings, he regretted being so heartless to (y/n) before she left, hating himself for letting that be the last thing he ever said to the (h/c) haired girl. 

Since (y/n) left Neverland, Peter changed, unfortunately for the worse. He was harsher and more cruel towards his Lost Boys and those that had the misfortune of being his enemy. All Pan cared for now was power, stopping at nothing to increase his magical strength by achieving immortality, regardless of the lives he had to take. And that meant he was setting in motion the events that would lead to taking the heart of the Truest Believer from a young boy to remain young forever. 

Hence, the current intense training session the Lost Boys were doing, as Pan need them to be prepared for everything and anything, failure not being an option. “Who knew (y/n) leaving effect Pan this much? He’s been running us into the ground during training even since the girl left him,” Rufio mumbled to a couple of other Lost Boys. Pan heard this, and he did not like it. “What was that Rufio?” he snarled and turned towards the wise-cracking Lost Boy. Rufio’s face paled in fear as Pan strode towards him, his friends that once surrounded him nowhere to be seen, as they fled from Pan’s wrath. 

The poor Lost Boy stood quaking in his boots as the King of Neverland stood in front of him, the slightly shorter leader wrapping a hand around Rufio’s throat, crushing his windpipe and preventing any air from reaching his lungs. Rufio gasped from breath as the other Lost Boys stood there in fear induced silence, unable to do anything but watch. “You’ve been mouthing off too much for my tastes. Looks like I’m going to have to put a stop to it permanently,” Peter growled. He shoved his hand into his chest, fingers wrapping around the boys heart. “Please, no...” Rufio pleaded. 

Pan was just about to rip the boys heart out of his chest and then crush it to dust, when a loud noise and bright light shook the camp site. Everyone turned their heads to the sky, where a giant multicolored portal hung just below the treetops. Something or someone, came out of it, falling to the ground, and the portal closed violently with a loud bang. Peter and the Lost Boys were unable to do anything, as the figure got up from the ground and their features finally revealed by the light of the fire. (H/c) locks framed a (face shape) face, (e/c) eyes looking over everything as a bright smile broke out on the female’s (thin/plump) lips. 

Felix was the first to break the silence, calling out the name of the person. “(y/n)? Is that really you?” the second-in-command asked, shocked that the girl had finally returned to Neverland. “Yeah, it's me,” the former Lost Girl replied a smile on her face. Felix immediately caught the girl in a hug, picking up the (much/slightly) shorter girl in his excitement. It seemed the spell was broken, as the Lost Boys immediately started moving towards the former Lost Girl, chatter filling the silence. 

“Welcome back, (y/n),” Felix said to the girl, after he pulled away from her. “It’s great to be back,” (y/n) replied, her face so full of light and joy. Her (e/c) eyes caught Peter’s, causing the girl to stare straight into the piper’s eyes. He was stunned; here she was, the girl Peter has been obsessing over ever since she left, popping out of the blue, acting as if she never left in the first place. Their longing glaze was broken by a younger Lost Boy tugging on (y/n)’s hand, her attention turning towards the little one. “(Y/n), will you be staying here? Please don’t leave us again,” he said, his voice honey sweet and blue eyes looking at the (h/c) girl with pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, Jack,” (y/n) said, lowing herself so she could be eye level with the young boy. “I won’t be leave you.” 

She rose to her full height and announced with a loud voice, “In fact, I will never have to leave Neverland again. From this moment forward, this island will be my forever home!” The campsite erupted in cheers and howls, all the Lost Boys loudly showing their approval. “If that’s the case then, let’s celebrate! To our one and only Lost Girl!” Felix cheered. As if it wasn’t already possible, the boys got even louder, happily cheering at the chance to party. Peter could only stare on wordlessly, as (y/n) was swept away by several Lost Boys, losing his sight on the magnificent girl. 

~ Time Skip ~

The Lost Boys howled in delight as the drums were banged and the fire in the center of the campsite crackled. Peter watched from the side lines as they danced wildly. But his gaze was focused on one very special dancer. His green eyes followed (y/n), watching every move of her limbs and bend of her body as she danced without a care in the world. She was one with the music as she her body followed the rhythm of the drums. Peter’s eyes caught (y/n)’s (e/c) ones, everything around him seeming to slow down as did so. 

He immediately tore his gaze away from her, pretending to be watching Felix wrestle some unfortunate soul into the dirt ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw (y/n) stop her lively dancing and steadily make his way towards him. Peter felt his breath get caught in his chest as she came closer, but was able to calm himself down before (y/n) got close enough to notice the effect she had on him. 

“Enjoying the party?” she asked him, leaning against the bark of a tree next to him. “Of course. I enjoy seeing my boys let loose for once. The drinks help a bit, too,” he replied, gesturing towards the wooded cup in his hand. (Y/n) gazed out at rowdy group of wild teenage boys in front of her, a closed-mouth smile on her face. “I missed this. The freedom, how carefree everything is, not having any responsibilities,” she admitted. “You missed all of this? Even Rufio’s attitude?” he asked, surprised. 

(Y/n) let out a short laugh, music to Peter’s ears. “Is it so surprising I missed my home. There wasn’t a day where I didn’t long to come back here and just let loose,” (y/n) continued, (e/c) eyes glowing in the firelight as she stared out at the wild party goers. It was silent for a little bit, a hint of awkwardness in the air. “So, um, what exactly happened back on Meowy?” Peter spoke up, desperately trying to break the silence. “Mewni. And so much happened. Everything has changed. And I couldn’t be happier,” (y/n) explained, a smile on her face as she reminisced. “Tell me about it. I’ve never heard of it before.” 

“Well, I won’t go into the long and detailed history, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear about that. But I will tell you that Mewni is now unified between its people and the kingdom is in the hands of its true queen,” (y/n) explained as shortly as she could. “Well, that’s good,” Peter replies. A pregnant pause filled the air, until Peter thankfully broke it. “Is what you said before actually true?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “What?” you question, thinking you misheard him. “You said would never leave Neverland again? Was that true? Or was that just something you said that was in spur of the moment?” Peter continued. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t believe what she was true. Why would she want to stay here and be with me? he thought. Especially after how I treated her the last time I saw her. “Peter,” (y/n) said softly. “I was serious when I said that. Nothing will make me leave Neverland and you guys again.”

Peter felt his heart stop for moment, in disbelief at what she just told him. (Y/n) turned her kind gaze away from looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “Besides, it’s not like I can return home anyway,” she said softly. “Wait, what?” Peter thought he heard wrong. “It’s no big deal. You already know I never saw Mewni as my home. Neverland is my home. When the chance came for me to spend forever in my homeworld or spend forever here, I made my choice,” she explained nonchalantly. Peter could only open his mouth wide in shocked silence. He never thought she would such a thing. Give up her family and everything she known just to be with for him and the Lost Boys. It was almost insane. 

“You really did all of that? Even after what I said to you before you left?” Peter gaped. “I’m sorry ... for what I said by the way. I wasn’t thinking straight and -” “Wow, the Peter Pan apologizing. To little old me,” (y/n) teased a goofy smile on her face. “Don’t make fun of me. You know I’m don’t ever apologize ” Peter pouted. (y/n) giggled, forcing a hidden smile to make its way to Peter’s lips. “I missed you, you know. Can you believe that?” Peter admitted, trying to hide his warming cheeks. (y/n) was astonished at his confession.“You really missed me? I thought you would have forgotten about me.” “I would never. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you,” Peter continued, gently taking the girl’s hands into his. (Y/n) looked down their combined hands, cheeks red at the feeling of Peter’s warm hands. “I did, too. The thought of Neverland and you kept me going. You were my reason to keep fighting, so one day I would be able to return to you.” 

Peter gently placed his fingertips under her chin, directing her downcast eyes to look at him. “(Y/n) ...” he trailed off. He didn't know what he was going to say, his eyes flicking to her luscious soft lips. Peter couldn’t help but subconsciously darted his tongue out to wet his own, longing to meet them with hers. His hand trailed to cup her cheek, enjoying the site of her reddening skin under his rough fingertips. (Y/n)’s luminous (e/c) orbs nervously flew to look back at him, her breathing hitching in her throat. He watched her for a moment, looking for any indication that she was uncomfortable. But there was none, so Peter slowly inched closer, stopping until there was little more than an inch between them. He heart stopped as (y/n) closed the distance between them, the organ soaring at the feeling of her luscious lips on his own. Peter felt her wrap her hands around his neck loosely, his other hand moving to grip tightly to (y/n)’s hip. He could taste the Neverberries from the juice she had before, along with a specific taste he couldn’t quite identify. But he couldn't get enough it, shown by him adding more pressure into the kiss. (Y/n) reacted positively, fingers gripping onto the hairs at the base of his neck, a little mewl coming from her lips as she relaxed into his hold. Peter was just about to kick it up a notch when they were rudely interrupted. 

“Hey, lovebirds! Get a tent will ya?” Felix shouted from across the campfire, hands cupped over his mouth and announcing the scene to everyone. (Y/n) was the first to pull away, face red as the Lost Boys howling once they noticed what their leader and Lost Girl were doing. “Shut up all of you!” Peter hollered at the boys. He was just about to teach them all a lesson when he felt (y/n) lean her head onto his chest. He looked down she was hiding her face in his shirt in embarrassment, the sight causing his heart pang in pity. “Peter, let’s go somewhere else. Please,” (y/n) quietly pleaded. “Alright, dear. Let’s head back to my tent. I still want to be with my favorite Lost Girl,” he whispered in her ear, placing a kiss on her forehead. Peter wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist and gently led her away from the center of camp. The Lost Boys started cheer and make lewd comments, which Peter when stopped at the entrance of his private abode, (y/n) continuing on inside without him. “Not another word from any you, or else I’ll be locking you in the cages for a week!” he threatened, glaring at them with darkness in his eyes. The boys shut up, knowing their leader was serious as they avoided eye contact. “Felix, knock up into shape if anything happens.” The second-in-command smirked, giving Peter a quick wink. The green-clad boy ignored it, heading inside and back to the beautiful girl waiting for him. (y/n) was laying on his fur-covered bed, patiently waiting for him. Peter sighed and crawled next to her, pulling her into arms once he was comfortable. He snuggled into neck, placing soft kisses onto her exposed neck. “Stay with, darling. I want you in my arms tonight,” Peter pleaded, already feeling his eyes close in bliss. “With you. Always.” 

[dirt-cup-draco]

Jaskier x Reader- Songbird and Dove

For love languages: Could I request Jaskier + Words of Affirmation, please? Thanks so much!!

Jaskier ran his calloused fingertips over the swoops and curls of every word. It felt unreal holding this cursed paper in his hand. He scoffed, trying to keep tears at bay. Geralt would have actually tried to see if the letter was cursed and Jaskier did wish it was something so easy to fix. Jaskier had to chew on his lip until blood welled up and shocked him back into a more stable set of mind as the iron hit his tongue.

He had a funeral to plan.

“And what’s a darling thing like you doing in a shit hole like this?” Jaskier had ambled over to your table where you picked at a stew, legs travel wary and mind numbed. No room for playful flirting with a drunk bard. 

“Trying to eat in peace,” You said softly, no real venom attached. You would have been all for a nice time with the handsome man but you were simply too exhausted to enjoy anyone’s company. 

What you weren’t expecting however was for the high energy man who had been tossing back another ale and belting it out on stage no more than five minutes before the sit down heavily beside you, his wide grin melting away to something far more gentle as he rolled his head on his shoulders to relieve some tension. 

“Now correct me if I’m wrong but-” He was cut off by two men who had gotten into a fight near the bar, their raised voices interrupting everything as they began to throw punches. Soon enough they were thrown out and you turned your gaze back to the now exhausted looking bard. “-but it feels nearly impossible to find peace here,” 

For some reason you felt like his words held more weight. It wasn’t just here that he was finding no peace. You got another drink and ordered one for him too, amused at the way his eyebrows raised to his forehead, gratitude and apprehension in his eyes. 

“Where do you go for peace then songbird?” You teased, nudging his leg underneath the table glad to see that the stranger who had fallen into a sober melancholy moments before had a smile ready on his face again. It seemed more genuine than the charismatic smile he had approached you with. 

“The name is Jaskier, feel free to wear it out,” He added almost like it was second nature and you rolled your eyes fondly. “But I’d let you call me anything,” You had to giggle. He was charming like this. Head thrown back as the impressing of his peers made him tired. His face gleamed with a layer of sweat but he wasn’t grimy like most of the patrons of the inn. 

“Alright Jaskier, seeing as I’m too young not to live life-” You stood, hand stretched out to him and it only took a moment for him to accept your offer- his seat screeching loudly against the rough flooring. “I’ll give you my company for the night on the condition you take me somewhere peaceful.” 

“Ah yes, waste your young years on an old man like me.” Jaskier winked playfully. He couldn’t be more than five years your senior so you couldn’t help but snort at the insinuation of his age yet envy burned in your heart and you had to stomp it out quickly before your own feelings of being in unfair world took over your mind for the night. 

Squeezing your hand with a comfortable level of affection the many surprisingly didn’t take you to his room at the inn but instead lead you out the front door. You went to the stables and you wrinkled your nose as you could smell the horses long before you could see them.

 “The stables?” You questioned. One hand in Jaskier’s, the other hovering near the dagger at your hip. He was a charming man with honest eyes and you had followed him this far yet you weren’t going to forget all caution. 

He glanced down to your hand and laughed softly. “Please dont gut me in front of Daisy, she’d be horrified,” 

“Daisy?” you puzzled. 

“My darling and dashing steed!” Jaskier dropped your hand to take two more long and dramatic strides to a stunning dark horse with expressive eyes, a white spot on her rear somewhat resembling the flower Jaskier had mentioned. 

He kissed her snout affectionately and she shook her head, making a fuss. “Attitude just like Roach I tell you,” Jaskier laughed but it seemed his words caught up to him and his shoulders slouched with a curious wait. 

You kept quiet as shadows of the past darkened his demeanor but a stomp of Daisy’s hoof at not being given attention had brought him back and he sent you a sheepish look. “Would the lady like to sit in front or behind me?” He asked, drawing Daisy out of her pen. 

You shrugged but then thought on it a moment before helping yourself onto Daisy’s back as Jaskier kept her calm and steadied. “I think I’d like to if you’ll only tell me where to go,songbird” 

Jaskier hoisted himself up behind you, his arm now soothingly tight against your midsection, your back relaxing against his chest. Your stomach did flips and you decided it was no waste to spend your time with this man even if you suspected it would only be for a night.

--

Jaskier ran his fingers down Daisy’s mane, a gash in his chest that he couldn’t heal. Oh how much simpler it had been to be Geralt’s companion when all he had to do was make coin, be a nuisance and slap a bandage on whatever bled whether it was him or his grumpy companion. 

He couldn’t place a bandage over his heart however and so he was steadily dying from the inside out. “I’d join her but who would take care of you?” Jaskier sighed, forehead pressed against Daisy’s neck, a smile twitching at the man’s lips as she let out a huff of air as if she was telling him he better not go anywhere. 

The letter stayed folded neatly in his doublet yet it felt like it had caught fire and was now burning away through him. Even as Daisy began to trot steadily Jaskier couldn’t come to terms with his destination. 

--

“Where next?” You skipped alongside Jaskier as he waded through a field- Daisy tied to a tree nearby- sometimes catching sight of an herb or flower he collected. You had noticed in the few weeks youd been traveling with him that he had a sharp eye that seemed out of place for such a silly man. 

However you had also found that Jaskier was far more than a bard. He was intelligent and quick and every night you two settled down too far away from an inn he’d be quick to get a fire going, food already caught in a trap he’d set. You’d asked the first night you’d stayed together where he’d learned such things but he had fallen silent before changing the subject to a certain star in the sky and you hadn’t tried again. 

Jaskier thought on it a moment, grabbing a daffodil before you trampled it. He paused for a moment and you lingered with him. “The coast maybe,” He mumbled, eyes searching yours as he tucked the yellow flower behind your ear his other hand warm against your cheek. 

“Will you be coming with me?” Jaskier hesitated to ask, eyes now focusing on the swaying blades of grass as a breeze swirled around you. You grinned wide, pulling him closer to you into a hug and resting your ear over his heartbeat with thumped wildly with his insecurities. 

“What would a songbird be without their dove?” You jested, having grown fond of the nickname he’d given you the night he’d taken you to a quiet spot in the woods declaring it to be his peace, his muse. You hadn’t realized then that you would follow Jaskier wherever he traveled. 

At your words he settled down considerably, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead that made your heart leap. There wasn’t need for words between you two as you walked hand in hand back to Daisy and began picking up. To the coast you would go. 

--

Jaskier never thought he would go back to the place that had been haunting him for four months. The small cottage was nestled close to the edge of a cliff that made way to sand that seemed to glitter in the sun at high noon, the water stretching endlessly into a view that he had missed and longed to return to. 

The daisies and daffodils you’d planted were now overgrown and took over the stone pathway to the front door and Daisy stomped impatiently as he approached the door slowly. Jaskier felt guilt tear at him. It was as if his steed was waiting for you to leave the home any second now and the three of you would go on another adventure.

His hands shook as he knocked on the door he had painted the day you two had settled in. 

“Y/N? I’m here.” 

--

You had never meant to grow so attached. Yet the months had melted away so easily in his presence and you couldn’t help it. Jaskier had become the whole part of you and you wished you could be whole for him too. You knew that would never be however as you excused yourself from your place at his side to wander into the woods. 

Traveling had made an easy excuse for when you had to go off on your own. With the guise of needing to relieve yourself you would walk until you couldn’t see or hear Jaskier anymore and then you’d finally let out the harsh coughs that you forced yourself to hold in when you were with him. You didn’t need him to worry and the crimson that had started to paint your hand when you pulled away would do just that. 

You wiped your hand on some grass, cleaning your mouth against a dark cloth you kept tucked away. “I’m back!” You called to Jaskier and your breath was stolen (before you could even really catch it again), from his beautiful grin as he met you halfway, picking you up and twirling you in his arms. 

“I didn’t think I was gone so long to get such a greeting,” 

“My dove, I need to show you something,” Jaskier said, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling but you had to step away before you were forced into a coughing fit. 

“Then lead the way,” You smiled, hand stretched out to his knowing that there’d never be a time where he wouldn’t take it.

You couldnt withhold your gasp as Jaskier led you with sweating palms to a beautiful cottage that sat atop a cliff. The sea was gorgeous and gleaming in the distance and you were overwhelmed with it’s beauty. 

“Oh Jask...” You sighed, looking back to your starry eyed lover. “It’s gorgeous but what are we doing here?” 

Jaskier cleared his throat, cheeks gone red as he squeezed your hand. You had come to recognize he did it to comfort you but also when he was nervous and you didn’t quite know which time it was now. 

“Y/N, I’m amazing with words as you know-” He began and you laughed, kissing his palm. “but I’m at a complete lost right now. You deserve poetry and songs and art all dedicated to you and your beauty. I’ve never met a more perfect soul and I want us to live here, together. I don’t care if we go in the right order, marriage could be next week or in five years or never. It doesn’t matter to me so long as you’re by my side,” 

Your heart sped up and you melted at the same time the blood turned to ice in your veins. You’d been lying to him for so long, you had lied to him not an hour previous as you’d hid your biggest secret from the person you loved most. 

“Jaskier...” You were speechless. 

“I know! It’s marvelous isn’t it? We’ve been hopping towns and sleeping on shitty bed rolls for far too long my love, and now we can have this,” 

“No, Jask- darling I-” You couldn’t formulate a straight thought and you could see his expression fall. 

Then with your next words you froze him to the core.

“This was never supposed to happen,” 

And there you left a shaking Jaskier with tears in his eyes and tears streaming down yours. 

--

“Come in,” Came your voice, gentle as always but more exhausted than the day he’d found you, slumped over the inn’s grimy tables. 

It took him another moment to open the door, but when he did he couldn’t combat the smile at his surroundings. This was how he’d pictured it, a home with you. Your shoes were at the door, the small space filled with flower pots and sunlight and his heart shattered as he saw sketches of Daisy and him scattering the walls. 

“In the bedroom,” You called out and Jaskier strained his ears once again to catch your voice. He didn’t think he’d felt warm since the day you’d left him at this very cottage. 

“Y/N-” He paused in the doorway, eyes wide and fists clenched at the sight of you. It was almost as if you were dissolving into the sheets and pillows around you. Your cheeks were gaunt, eyes sunked and skin gray. Your lips however were a rosy pink and Jaskier wanted nothing more to gather you in his arms and makeup for the time you two had been apart.

Makeup for not looking for you after you’d vanished. 

“Songbird,” You cooed fondly, eyes brightening and you sat up at the sight of him. Jaskier startled and went to you, helping you and fluffing the pillows against your back. You playfully swatted his hand away before keeping hold. Your hands were warmer than he thought. 

He sat beside you, free hand going to your cheek. You broke eye contact.

“I can sit up alone, I’m not weak- well too weak,” You laughed and it had a rasp to it he hadn’t realized before. 

“You came back,” Was all he could say and you nodded. 

“I think that’s what’s kept me going this long, imagining us here,” Your voice had gotten quiet and clipped and you were scared he couldn’t forgive you. “Once I realized the cottage was still under your name and that you were still paying to keep it I just...moved in. I know it’s wrong but I’ve been putting away payments so that if you can’t forgive me at least you haven’t lost your coin,” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jaskier couldn’t help the anger as you started to approach the real reason you two hadn’t gotten the chance to make this a shared home. The tears were already falling and he had thought he’d been over them. “I-I thought you were just like him. Abandoning me because I’m too much, because I’m a problem and a nuisance and, and-” He was breathing heavily as the tears poured out and he slumped over, burying his face in your chest as you carded your fingers through his hair. 

“I didn’t want to chain you to me, I was dying Jask and you wanted to start a new life with me and I was scared of abandoning you after building so much so I left before the damage was more,” You explained once his sobbing grew quiet even though his tears continued to dampen your shirt. 

“I loved you, I love you,” Jaskier whimpered into the cotton. “We’ve lost the past- I could have been here before you- you... Why me Y/N? Why ask me here?” 

His baby blue eyes were burning holes into you and you cupped his cheeks with steady hands. “Who else would I want to be here? I love you and never stopped... I know it was unfair of me to leave after Geralt but you are everything to me songbird. You’re my moon, my stars, my peace.” 

“A-and thats it? You need peace?” Jaskier sniffled. “I haven’t heard from you in months and now you want me to be here so you can what? Move on peacefully?” 

“I’m ready to leave this chapter of my life, it’s been weighing on me for years and I need you to be by my side when I do. I want to start a new chapter with you Jask,” You croaked, fear cutting your air supply off as you began to fear he truly couldn’t forgive you. 

“You want to start-” He dropped off, looking puzzled. “But you’re dying Y/N.” 

Your laugh was clear as a bell and acted as a slap to the face. “Oh darling, of course you think I’m- well instead of explaining myself why don’t you read the back of the letter I sent you?” 

You plucked the letter easily from his doublet, having hoped he was still as sentimental as ever. He had mentioned he held things he cherished close to his heart and you had been praying you hadn’t lost your place. 

He took the letter from you immediately, careful hands gone as he pulled the paper from the envelope. You winced seeing the past’s tears staining the paper. Oh how your poor Jaskier seemed to have been grieving. 

“My songbird, please come to the cottage. I need you here with me” the front read and Jaskier had taken it as a clear sign that you were fading that he was startled to realize that he could see the faint outline of ink on the back of the page. It seemed with tear-blurred eyes he hadn’t noticed you’d written more on the sheet of paper. 

“You may be halfway across the country or maybe you’ve found someone who you want to settle with again. Maybe Geralt realized his loss and you two are off battling bruxas and chimeras. I have time however, my illness having been cured by a witch who had come to the town, promising medical relief to those who couldn’t afford it. Triss, her name was. A young boy in town who brings me my meals got her attention and brought her to me. She stayed for  two months working as hard as she could and I’m weak still but I’m healed Jaskier, I’m whole. Please come back to me, “ 

As Jaskier read this he couldn’t help but pull you into a more firm hug. You were going to be okay! And gods he was grateful you hadn’t had the chance to meet Yennefer. It seemed your faith in sorceresses was pure and he couldn’t let bitter years change that. 

“You want me?” He couldn’t help but ask. The opposite had been on his mind ever since youd left him. 

Your tears were renewed as you noddded fiercely, kissing the bard with more passion than ever before. “You are the best part of me Jaskier and I have never not wanted you. You are my muse even if I don’t think I’ll ever be able to compose a song or write a poem. I loved you then, I love you now, and I”ll love you forever. You gave me back life when I knew my years were running out. Now that I have time I want it to be spent with you,” 

The words stuck to Jaskier’s ribs and he felt it was hard to breathe as he was overwhelmed with love. Holding you closer he vowed you two would never be parted again whether your sickness returned or not.

You were his and he was yours, after all what would your songbird be without their dove? 

[realisticallystan]

I Can’t Leave Them -- JATP x Reader

Warnings: contains death(s), angst, major depression ++ JUST SAD OK, slightly unedited but can probably do a rewrite a week or two after I posted this. 

Song I listened to while writing: 

- Beginning of the End Movement V (The Newton Brothers) + used for death scene

- Somewhere Only We Know (slowed)

(A/N: Idk why I wrote this but it felt really cathartic and it’s how I imagine it would be if someone was friends with them or anything and had to be there when they died... apologies cause this sh*t is sad) 

-

-

-

She woke up in a start, heart racing as she fought to catch her breath. Her eyes closed as she held a hand to her chest, feeling the quick beat under the soft skin there, moist with sweat.

“Not that night…” She whispered softly, shaking her head gently. She couldn’t help the frustration she felt with herself, for letting herself think she could sleep a single night without going back to that day.

As her eyes opened, she felt the tear gently weld up in the corners, moments away from dropping. The cause being the harsh remembrance that he was gone. Her person who made her feel so peaceful, so present and undeniably content in her day to day.  She often wished she could have him be here, to hold her through the grief, the grief of losing him, but that was impossible.

She knew it was.

Yet she hoped she could see him, feel him, even smell his woodsy scent; riddled with hints of pine and oak. She never really could figure out how he had always used to smell so enticing, but he always was surprising her.

Even till the last couple of minutes before… he was gone.

She sucked in a breath, curling her legs up to her chest and letting her hands rest on her knees. She could still see it so vividly.

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Y/N stopped outside of the studio, feeling the gentle, warm breeze kiss her skin as she listened to the boys all chattering loudly over each other from inside. They were laughing heartily and she could make out a small thud before the double doors swung open just enough for one boy to walk out. Her eyes quickly met his blue ones as he stopped outside and let the doors close behind him. She produced a small wave as he moved slowly to lean back against the now closed doors, taking in her appearance of some comfortable mom jeans, sneakers, and a black Sunset Curve t-shirt. She by all means looked ordinary, but the way he looked at her made her feel like she was everything and more.

“Hey gorgeous, how you doin?”

He had nodded at her in greeting, and it made Y/N try to fight back her smile, her lips itching to form a goofy smile that only he could give her. She never could fight her smile with him. He had this effect on everyone, and never failed to charm the people around him.

“Just dandy Lucas.” She teased with a small smirk, looking at the boy who practically bounced his way over to her as he walked. He was radiating so much energy, since today was their biggest day in their whole lives. It was their time to shine.

He neared her quickly and stopped about an arm’s length away, frowning at her with crinkled eyebrows.

“Hey, hey!” Luke pouted, shaking his arms in rejection. “I refuse to be called that and you know that, you she-devil.”

This had made Y/N scoff, jokingly of course, never once had the guitarist ever truly upset her .

“If you weren’t performing a major, life-changing gig tonight,” She raised her eyebrows and pointed at him. “I would not hesitate to punch you.”

“Aw,” He grinned cheekily, swooping down to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You do care.”

Now, that did draw an eye roll from Y/N, and she found herself heading towards the house to get a water bottle before going to watch them rehearse. She had heard his jogging steps as he came up beside her and walked with his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders as he followed her lead to the house. As they did this, she felt glad to be in this moment, it felt so human, and right.

It felt like she could live in this feeling forever.

He was as loyal and true as he could be, he owned it even. Y/N wished she could just live as freely as he did but how could she, she was not as confident as him, but oh how he brought out the very best in her. So she was told by all her friends, the boys, and her parents.

“What is on that busy mind of yours?” He questioned, hitching himself onto the counter as he took in the oddly empty house. It never was quiet around here, but nobody minded. It was always something that felt natural to them.

She could go on for days how grateful she was for them being supportive and even letting them store water in their fridge for days like this. Rehearsals before the big moment.

The Orpheum.

“Tonight is going to change our lives!” She explained with amazement, in almost disbelief that this was really happening to them. She loved every boy as her own family, but with Luke… that was something everyone knew was different. Everyone knew that they were meant for each other.

“You are all so amazing Luke,” She finally placed all of the water bottles on the counter, deciding to grab one for all of them. “You deserve this, and… I love you.” She hesitated, but let it flow. It felt right, natural even, so who was she to stop it.

“You love me?” He smiled, sliding off the counter and slowly coming up to her. Y/N thanked the stars that the homeowners were away for the week, heart thudding against her chest. She felt his calloused hands grab hers, letting his forehead come down to rest against her own.

“So much,” She laughed breathily, causing him to chuckle too.

“I love you too,” Luke whispered. “All I want to do is see that gorgeous smile each day and make you laugh, at least once. That is my mission.” He spoke with admiration, making her feel like she was completely his.

And she was.

Luke brushed his lips against hers before capturing them in a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she kissed him back gently, projecting all the love she could into it. He grinned and deepened the kiss, not hesitating to make her feel all the love he felt for her.

“As nice as this is,” Y/N pulled away softly, causing Luke to try and chase her lips with his, but she giggled and moved back. “We need to prepare for the Orpheum, it’s in a couple hours so we should really--”

“-Get going,” He raised an eyebrow at her knowingly. “It’s all good, I hear you.” He poked at her, moving to grab most of the waters she left out on the counter. She was thankful he did that, because Y/N knew she would drop them if she even attempted to do that on her own.

“Yes, exactly, rockstar. You catch on quick.” She praised with an amused tone, grabbing the last bottles as they walked out of the kitchen side by side, continuing to chat about their setlist.

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

They had just finished their soundcheck, and it was one of the best times they had played, by far. She noticed how they all were just full of energy and it had to be the excitement of the show. Y/N was watching from near the bar and while singing, Luke managed to catch her eye and wink gently at her.

Yet now, Y/N suddenly felt fear as the guys finished chatting on stage and came down, heading directly towards her.  She managed to catch the mischievous glint in their eyes before they nodded all in agreement, suddenly running towards her with determination. Y/N shrieked and slid off her barstool, stumbling a bit, which would cause them to catch her almost instantly.

“Ew.. ew, you guys are all completely sweaty!” Y/N squealed, hoping to hurry by the four rowdy boys and away from their outstretched arms, but she found no such luck.

She groaned in mild disgust at feeling their sticky skin press against hers, but ultimately she gave in, letting them smush her in the middle of their group hug. While it was not her favorite hug  from the boys, she couldn’t help but happily sigh internally at how nice it felt.

“You guys killed that!” Y/N clapped as they pulled back and gave her some room.

“Right?” Reggie grinned, running a hand through his hair for adjustment. “I was worried I would trip over the wires and fall into Luke but it worked out in the end.” He spoke with animation and relief, causing Y/N to pat his arm, smiling at him.

“Good job hun.”

Reggie pouted at the nickname, feeling as if he was a child she assumed. She tended to mother him sometimes but he never complained and she knew the raven-haired boy enjoyed her presence just as much as the guys’ at gigs. Y/N had known him since around kindergarten and they grew up as best friends, they were quite an odd pair she was told. He had so much confidence and was always running around, eyes full of wonder as he always found something to enjoy.  While Y/N was definitely a little bit sensitive; she loved endlessly, was sarcastic and was very funny too, always making the boys smile somehow. When they first met, Reggie had seen the girl get shoved by another kid, she had fallen and had let a small tear run down her cheek in embarrassment. It wasn’t until a hand came into her view that she looked up and saw him, there with a smile and she felt safe. He was basically her brother and she had felt it since that day. If he made her feel safe, she vowed she would do the same for him.

“You know what I mean.” Y/N  nudged her shoulder against his, a knowing smile drawn on his pale face. Their inside jokes just coming straight to both minds, no doubt. 

“Yeah yeah” He teased, when the guys suddenly turned in Y/N’s direction, multiple sets of eyes falling onto her form

“Y/N,” Luke spoke first. “Odds you want to come get street dogs with us?

“Yeah, please do.” Alex chimed in.

“Bobby is chickening out.” He finished with a pointed stare at the mentioned boy. 

You know he was kidding but his expression did seem to hold some truth behind the annoyance. It is important for bands to bond and really get along with each other, so you could see his side.

“Shut up..” Bobby grumbled in denial, causing them all to laugh as he walked up to one of the workers, clearly trying to flirt with the pretty girl with beautiful dark skin and an enchanting smile.

Y/N could see his reasoning for being enamored, she was a truly gorgeous girl, but boy did he not have a chance. He was not good with the flirting, and she had seen him try many different times, all of which had not succeeded.

Goodluck dude, she thought and shook her head as he continued his escapade.

“Well,” Y/N clapped her hands together. “I kind of ate dinner on the way here but I do not want to watch that fall apart, so I’ll just tag along.” She shrugged, watching Luke slip his warm layers on in preparation for the damp alleyway.

“Can’t say no to that.” Alex shrugged and led the way, the rest of the group following after him. Y/N had easily slipped her fingers in between Luke’s and they walked hand in hand with the boys. She could feel his hand squeeze hers ever so gently, causing her heart to skip in her chest.

This boy… I swear. She thought, fighting back her smile and shaking her head.

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

“Do you think I should tell him I spilt pickle juice on his cables?” Alex questioned quietly, looking Y/N in the eyes with silent guilt. She raised a hand to cover her mouth as she shook with laughter, the sound muffled by her hand thankfully.

She took a deep breath and glanced back at the man grilling.

“It’s kind of his fault for serving them out of the back of his car.” Y/N pointed out, shrugging at the  small mess Alex made. It did not seem like a big deal really, it would dry.  

He sighed and shook his head at you. This was not the first time Y/N had claimed someone got what they deserve and he usually was at the end of it, dealing with the little pranks the rest of the group pulled. Sure, they were also targeted against others, but Alex was always the favorite. This was simply because he tended to have the best reactions and it would make the prank all the better by the end.

That being said, even though she teased Alex, Y/N knew she could count on him for anything. She was nervous earlier in the kitchen, and hours later she still found herself feeling like something was off, something felt wrong. She was not one to say that she felt like something bad was going to happen, but she was anxious for sure. Y/N had just hoped this night would go smoothly, and follow the general plan she had created in her mind.

Perform.

Be Signed.

Party.

And lastly, become legends.

That’s what she had hoped for her boys.

“Uhm, Alex, ” She addressed him, walking beside him as they walked to the seating area. Luke and Reggie ahead of them and both laughing loudly about something the other said.

Alex stopped and looked down at her, being the one with the most height advantage in comparison to you. He could see this look in her eyes, one he knew he felt quite often. She was feeling anxious.

“Hey, tell me what’s going on.” He asked quietly, glancing back at the boys and seeing that they were still occupied. He knows how they sometimes miss signals, so he was glad to see that they were busy and are not likely to insert themselves into the conversation. It was clearly private from the way they had their backs to the boys.

“I’m not even performing... and I feel so nervous.” She confided, she was peering up at him, trying to keep her composure.

“Just a weird feeling in my stomach about something, I suppose.”

Alex used his free hand to reach out and rest on her shoulder, the weight of it being oddly comforting to her. She felt some tension leave her body as Alex, the boy who always seemed a bit anxious,  reassured her with ease.

“It’s okay to be nervous you know,” He chuckled, catching her eyes and she noticed that they showed no signs of lying, and that is how it’s always been. He can trust Y/N, and Y/N trusts him, so he would tell her just about anything.

“We are so close to performing. You just want us to succeed. That can be nerve-wracking, especially since you support us more than anyone.” He smiled, pulling his hand off of her shoulder, but making sure to give a comforting squeeze before that.

Y/N always appreciated Alex’s listening, he always paid attention. He always made sure everyone was okay, and never misses a sign of  distress.

“Now, come sit with us on this dirty couch while we eat these hot dogs, okay?” He nodded his head in the direction where the other two sat, the pair looking over at the two and waving them over. She knew he was right, because Alex was never generally wrong, but also because the instant she saw the other two boys she felt her chest ease up. It was like it felt easier to breathe.

Y/N smiled in agreement, nodding before walking with Alex to the seats. Y/N had sat between Luke and Alex, all four of them managing to fit onto the beaten down couch with some ease. Reggie leaned forward, looked around Luke and at Y/N happily, his hands cradling the hot tub in his hands.

“What were you guys chatting about?”

“Eh girl stuff, and since Alex is the only one with a sister, he is my only viable option.” Y/N shrugged, lying seamlessly. Alex smiled widely and nodded in agreement, managing to make it seem natural. He was never the best liar, even more so around the band since they all spend so much time together… they really get to know little things, like who is a bad liar.

At this moment, Alex didn’t see the point in lying but he also figured that there was no reason to expose the real conversation between him and Y/N so he just followed her lead.

“Okay, well now that that’s sorted.” Luke rolled his eyes playfully, Y/N bumping his side with her own at his remark. “We can really soak in the moments before we make it big.”

Y/N had sat on the musty old couch, watching Luke talk with this passion in his eyes. His hoodie was drawn over most of his soft, brown hair. She could not recall just how many times she had run her fingers through the dark locks, and would mostly do it to see Luke slowly fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

“This is awesome you guys.” Luke gnawed at his bottom lip, shaking his head in disbelief, but anyone could see the happiness he felt as he really absorbed the atmosphere and situation. The boys were also following along, hotdogs forgotten as they listened to the boy who never failed to shine, spoke with so much pride about them finally making it.

“We’re playing the Orpheum!” He beamed, Y/N’s breath had caught in her throat at just how purely happy and carefree he was, how they all were in that moment. “I can’t even count how many bands have played here, and ended up being huge.”

Luke took a second to really glance at all his friends that were present. With Y/N smushed into his side, he could feel her pressed against him and she was almost sure he could feel heartbeat skip when she just watched him look around. He then made eye contact with the two boys on either of his sides and Y/N did not miss the look he shared, the one of true brotherhood and love. He was glad that if he was going to be doing this, that it would be with them.

“We’re gonna be legends.” He breathed out, suddenly catching Y/N’s eyes as he smiled brightly down at her. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, causing her to giggle quietly. She could feel the gentle pressure of his lips against hers still and she loved it.

“Ew.” Alex winced, looking at them, but was clearly only saying this to tease the two lovebirds.

“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs, she didn’t use very much force behind it so he could just lean away and Alex had then poked her in the rib for payback. She hated being tickled so she was glad it was only a single poke to the side.

“Hotdogs up boys.” Luke intercepted, all of the group remembering that they had been in the middle of something. “After tonight… everything changes.”

The three boys all held their hotdogs up, and Y/N had to lean back a little to not be in Alex’s arm path. They tapped their hot dogs together in toast before each one took a huge bite. Y/N had not missed the confusion in each of their eyes, the chews slowing down for each of them as they glanced at the hotdogs in their hands.

“Uhm,” Alex spoke through a full mouth, causing Y/N to grimace a little from the sight of it. “That’s a new flavor?”

“Oh chill man, street dog’s haven't killed us yet.” Reggie had countered, taking another small bite. She knew he could be a little clueless sometimes so she glanced over at Luke to gauge his reaction, and he seemed to have an uncomfortable look on his face. Y/N frowned a little when she noticed and grabbed his wrist that held the hotdog.

“Hey babe,” She spoke up softly. “You don’t have to keep eating that if it tastes weird. We can always grab a slice of pizza instead?”

Luke had sat there for a second, letting her hold his wrist for probably thirty seconds, before brushing it off as just a new type of meat being grilled. He smiled down at her and pulled her hand off, pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting go.

“Already got this guy right here,”  He pointed out before taking another generous bite of it. Y/N snorted and shook her head before leaning her head on his shoulder. The boys all chatted between bites, and she would laugh at the jokes being made.

She distantly recalled her thoughts from earlier, and she was right, indeed.

It felt like she could live in this feeling forever.

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Only...

It didn't last forever.

She didn’t know what happened, or why it was so fast, but it happened. It didn’t wait for her to be ready, didn’t even let her realize the situation. It was so sudden when Luke leaned forward in pain, groaning as he let the last bit of hot dog drop from his hand. Y/N watched in confusion before he slid off the couch and onto the floor, hunched over on his knees. The other boys were just as confused as Y/N and quickly went to move to his side before they too felt an ache. Something they were not used to at all. It felt so different than anything they had experienced in their lives. She would have asked what was wrong with them, but Luke crying out in pain stole her attention, voice breaking.

“Y/N, it hurts.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N gasped before beginning to panic, thus catching the attention of the patrons around her. Multiple people had turned their attention to the group, some even moving closer to see what was going on. There were concerned looks when people noticed a young boy on the floor and two others slowly hunching over.

“Luke!?’ She exclaimed with worry, falling to her knees beside the boy as he panted deeply, arms clutching his gut. He was sweating like crazy and his skin had gone pale, his hair was sticking to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. She sucked in a shaky breath at his appearance, never seeing him without his tanned glow and warm skin. Yet, as she cupped his face and tried to get him to look at her, he felt somewhat cold, his body shivering a little underneath her touch.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong? Hey…” She pushed, begging him to speak to her. She could fix this, she could figure out something if he could just answer her.

He let his eyes flutter open to look at her, but he couldn’t speak as he took shallow breaths.

“Someone call 911!” Y/N shouted desperately, pulling her gaze away from him and looking at the people around them.

There were two people around Alex, who had collapsed when he tried to stand. They were helping him  sit up and offered some water, but he was slowly starting to look just as bad as Luke was. He was able to talk but he had sounded nothing like he had moments ago.

“The…. food..” He breathed out heavily, pointing shakily at the discarded hotdogs along the floor.

“S-Something in them.”  He whispered weakly, head lolling to the side onto someone’s side. It was frantic after that, people running to try and get rags, water, and some even had gone to flag down the two ambulances when they came. She distinctly remembered singling out the one person yelling that there were two coming. Since all three boys would not fit in one.

Y/N was crying, hyperventilating, as she tried to stay on top of this and stay strong for them. She glanced back at Reggie and he was crying, eyes closed as his lips moved but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. There were people just everywhere, and she wished she could be everywhere.

With each of her friends.

There wasn’t enough of her to be able to hold all three as they worsened with each moment.

“I-I… wan-..” Luke coughed, Y/N then leaned down and touched her head to his, feeling his hand weakly rest on her thigh.

“What is it baby?” She whispered, tears cascading down her rosy cheeks as she ran her thumbs across his cheeks. She did it so softly, as if she would hurt him more if she touched him the wrong way.

“I… wanna go.. h-home.” He managed, sniffling as his breathing slowed, and Y/N would be lying if she said she couldn’t begin to feel it. To see it.

The way his life was slowly going away, the breaths becoming shallower as he fought to stay with her. With his friends and family. She sobbed as he said that, nodding her head as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Mind wandering to Emily, his mother, who she wanted more than anything for her to be here right now with her son. He was scared. He just wanted to go home, pretend this was a dream. So did she.

“We can do that, let’s do that.” Y/N choked out. “Let’s go home ok?”

“Okay.” He had barely nodded before collapsing, head thankfully being held up by her hands.

Her eyes widened in disbelief at this sudden movement. She then started to lower his head onto her lap, and quickly brushed some of the strands of wet hair out of his face before gently tapping his cheek.

No response.

“Luke?” Another tap.

There was no movement from Luke. He laid eerily still in her lap.

She had felt herself holding her breath. She waited for what felt like minutes before letting her hand slowly rest on his chest, directly above where his heart was.

She waited. 

She waited for the familiar heart beat beneath her palm, but it never came.

His heart had stopped.

“No no no….NO!” She screamed, sobbing with quick breaths, wrapping her arms around his body and resting her head in his neck. Y/N would be damned if she let him go. She rocked him in her arms, not caring how heavy he was on her legs, she would take the pain if it meant he would just breathe.

“L-Luke, I love you so much, okay?” She whimpered out, before she had begun to sob again. “I-it’s... okay.” 

This time, the sobs came out so harshly, that after two minutes a couple sets of gentle hands were pulling her arms off of him, and she would try to fight, but she couldn’t anymore. She had no strength left. She felt every part of her body screaming and crying along with her, her chest aching with a pain she would come to be familiar with. The kind women who helped Y/N up began to back her away from Luke, both gently consoling her to the best of their ability and asking her questions about their parents. She unlocked her phone, wordlessly handing it to one of them, not bothering to stop the stream of hot tears running down her cheeks. They stung her cheeks as they touched the irritated skin on her face.

But, she didn’t care how she looked... she could only feel.

And it was consuming her whole.

“Alex? Reggie?” She cried, eyes wandering over the three boys’ bodies as paramedics checked them. She was suffocating as she watched and her nose was dripping. Her eyes would be puffy for days after this but it didn't matter in the moment as she watched them finish checking the vitals and eyes.

“This one has a heartbeat,” One of them announced, calling more helpers over to load Reggie into the ambulance. She felt some relief, but there was no real way to tell how this would turn out.

Y/N glanced at the other who was with Alex, and saw that he was doing chest compressions, hoping to bring some life back into the boy she had known for years. The boy who was just telling her that it would be okay.

She watched as another paramedic immediately called for Luke’s death. Y/N let out a loud cry when the man had waved over a gurney for Luke’s body. She fought against the people holding her, attempting to run over and bring him back into her arms. She couldn’t leave him.

She wouldn’t.

“No stop, where are you taking him!” She protested with concern, breaking free and falling to her knees beside her boyfriend. She held his hand in hers, lips quivering when she noticed he couldn’t squeeze her hand anymore.

“We’re taking him to the hospital.” The paramedic spoke with sympathy, eyes taking in her appearance. She knew she looked like a complete mess but that meant nothing right now.

“You can ride in the ambulance, do you wanna come with him?” He gestured with a nod of his head towards Luke, who she couldn’t bear to fully look at right now. Not if she needed to think clearly.

“Or with the other two?” Y/N glanced over at Alex still hanging on in between but now placed on a gurney being moved towards the ambulance, with which Reggie was already loaded up inside. 

They had a chance. Y/N knew she had to go, she couldn't leave her best friend alone. She had to be there for him. “We can come get you the minute you get there, if you want, and show you where he is.” The medic suggested quietly, seeing the wheels turning in Y/N’s mind. They were hoping to be some kind of voice in the midst of the fog of her mind right now, and she found herself hearing it.

“Okay.”

————————————-

Y/N glanced at the clock on her bedside table. She had a blurred recollection of the event, but it was still the worst night of her life. She knows no other event could top it. This was her trauma. Luke’s death had broken her, brought her down to her weakest and most grieved parts, but the ride in that ambulance was almost worse. If not tied.

They were six blocks away from the hospital when they stopped trying to resuscitate Alex.

If it weren’t for Reggie’s hand in hers, his pulse thudding weakly, she would have completely shut off. Y/N remembered how it felt like a complete joke, for one second, she thought this was some huge joke.

Then she remembered. 

Luke.

His body, his… heart not beating.

No breaths.  

No charming smile.

Just nothing left.

He was gone and she would never feel him, see him, or hear him again. Oh, how she wished she could hear him singing softly to her in bed, holding her close and brushing his fingertips across her arms. He would tell her these wild adventures that the boys went on together. All of them deserving the best and loving each other so much.

They were approximately one block away from the hospital when Reggie flatlined.

Y/N sat in the ambulance at the hospital, frozen in the seat with tears in her eyes.  She stayed until it was empty, the medic bringing her mom and dad inside the vehicle to help her out. They were carefully helping her up and out and guiding her, both having an arm, to the car. The boys had been taken inside, stripped of belongings, and waiting for their parents to be collected at their homes and brought in to see them or identify them. She doesn’t really know what happened after she left, and she was glad she didn’t.

Y/N doesn’t remember much from that night.

Just the main portions that took place, but never the specific details. She has tried to shut that night out, maybe only focus on the last good memories spent with each one of them. It was hard, she just couldn’t forget that night.

She had tried.

She went to therapy, homeschooled for a little, and tried to date but she couldn’t. She tried to live and move on, but you can never truly move on, is what she found.

They were her family. She loved them ... so much.

Luke was scared, and was gone so fast.

Alex had tried his best for as long as he could.

Reggie was so close to being saved.

And Y/N ... she considered herself a ghost, just like them, because that's how she felt everyday after.

[ahgaseda]

enough | three

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Frustration was the understatement of the year.

After Jinyoung kissed you, he avoided you for the remainder of the evening. You were left to wallow in hurt and self-pity. Being faced with how badly you had damaged him, frankly had wounded you as it rightly should have.

His driver, a chatty trouble maker named Yugyeom, who towered over you and flashed a hundred-watt smile, but you learned very quickly he would be a great source of comfort given his willingness to gossip endlessly about his boss.

As the car drove into the night, Yugyeom kindly asked how your evening had been.

“He wouldn’t have sex with me,” you lamented, hoping for a laugh and relieved when you earned one.

After an amused chuckle, Yugyeom told you, “He may be a ruthless asshole, but he’s still a gentleman.”

“Yeah, but… you know what he’s paying me for,” you trailed unsurely, wondering how much you could divulge with this new acquaintance.

Yugyeom shrugged, clearly unbothered by your current “profession,” and gabbed, “The boss isn’t a rabbit. In fact, he’s rarely horny.”

Skeptical, you frowned and sighed, “Good to know.” Turning back to the window, you watched the city around you blur into one cohesive whirlwind of color and activity.

“Well, that’s what happens to guys who are smitten with a girl they can’t have. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Biting your lip, you murmured, “No, I wouldn’t.”

Yugyeom chortled, “Yeah, if he finds that girl, then I retract my statement.”

Your brow furrowed and you abandoned the window in favor of his face. “Which statement?”

Yugyeom turned to you, taking his eyes off the road momentarily, and said, “About him not being a rabbit.”

You laughed aloud. If your memories of Jinyoung were any indication, his sex drive was through the roof. There were too many times you met up with him between classes to have a quickie and too many nights of parking in his rickety truck on some old back road with only the fireflies to see what sins you committed together.

A personal favorite you thought of often was the summer night he had filled the bed of the truck with blankets over a worn-out mattress. In the pitch black darkness of the moonless night, the two of you were a tangled mess of limbs as you fumbled around to get busy.

“Ouch,” he said, coming to a stop between your thighs.

On your back with your legs in the air alongside his hips, you held his face between your hands and asked frantically, “What? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

Jinyoung snorted and you wished you could see his face. You could barely make out his form above you in the darkness.

“How could you hurt me? You’re on the bottom,” he teased in his heavy dialect.

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. “I’m new at this. You always say I’m tight. What if I break your dick?”

Jinyoung laughed hard and you grinned at the sound.

“Please, don’t ever break my dick. There wouldn’t be enough therapy in the world to help me recover from that,” Jinyoung retorted, stealing a kiss and accidentally bumping into your nose.

“Ow,” you squeaked, pinching your nose until the pain began to fade.

“I’m sorry!”

“Why did you say ‘ouch’ in the first place?” you asked with irritation.

Jinyoung winced and groaned, “I think a mosquito bit my ass.”

You giggled.

Snapping out of your memories as the car came to a rolling stop, you took in the sight of your new home. The vertical condominium was wedged between a row of identical copies, all neutrally shaded with stark black gates and railings.

Yugyeom pressed a button on a small hob before handing the device to you. The garage door began to open and he maneuvered the car slowly inside.

“Here are your keys,” said the chauffeur after he unlocked the door for you, handing the key ring to your outstretched fingers. “I bid you adieu.”

You bowed in gratitude and replied, “Thank you, sir.”

The house was too big for your liking; much too generous for a single person to live in. The main living space was almost larger than your entire apartment. As you meandered through the new residence, you smiled when you took note of your personal items stationed throughout.

While with Jinyoung at his penthouse, the movers had transported all of your belongings in a matter of hours. At first, you thought this would infuriate you - strangers putting their hands on all of your things. Then, you remembered you didn’t actually own much.

Stepping into a small room adjacent to the bedroom, you couldn’t fight a broad smile when you surveyed the office space. Your textbooks were stacked neatly and your school supplies were no exception. Sitting on the rolling chair, you did a few turns before releasing a deep sigh and closing your eyes.

Maybe this overgrown house wasn’t so bad after all.

For the next two days, you settled in, making the place feel more like a home and less of a work perk. You brightened the rooms with color and light, taking pride in the place that Jinyoung was essentially lending to you.

But you constantly checked your phone, wondering why he hadn’t called or even texted. You resorted to drowning yourself in homework and exam prep, hoping to distract yourself from the endless thoughts of Jinyoung and his dumb, handsome face.

Even as you sat in class, the monotony of your physics professor faded into static, pushed away by memories of Jinyoung and his adorable laugh. How many years had it been since you heard him laugh? You grimaced. Jinyoung at that conference table looked hard and severe, like he hadn’t laughed in years.

That saddened you; the idea Jinyoung had been living a life without love or laughter. To keep the tears from your eyes, you focused on thermodynamics and forbid Jinyoung from your mind.

On the third afternoon, you finally got the call you had been anticipating.

Briefly, you stared at the phone and counted the seconds in your head, knowing he would despise having to sit through a few rings. “Yes, my lord?” you finally answered.

Jinyoung droned while he chewed his lunch, “Yugyeom is gonna bring you here. Be ready in 15.”

Feeling he was already about to hang up, you yelled, “I’ll need more time.”

Indignant, Jinyoung grumbled, swallowing whatever was in his mouth and asking, “What the hell for?”

“To shave my legs,” you deadpanned.

There was a pause, followed by a stern, “Don’t bother.”

Then, he hung up.

Frowning at the phone, you proceeded to spend an hour preparing yourself for the visit to Jinyoung’s penthouse. Whether or not you were actually going to have sex with him, you adorned yourself as if it were an ever-present possibility.

This game of his had hopelessly reeled you in.

Yugyeom arrived to get you in a sleek black car and you found him a comfortable place to sit in the grandiose living area. When you told him the fifteen minutes allotted would not suffice, he whipped out his phone and offered to keep himself busy whilst you took your sweet time.

Yugyeom was easily becoming your favorite person, especially when he commented at what a good job you had done breathing life back into the abandoned condo. The two of you gabbed about abstract art and the mint colored record player on your nearby table. Yugyeom was passionate about music and recommended an entire list of vinyls for you to give your ear to. He seemed to jump on board your plan to keep Jinyoung and his almighty ass waiting even longer.

Over an hour later, you stood in the cold, glass box that took you to the heights of the residential tower. Your freshly-shaved legs did not tolerate the chill well and you suddenly wished you had opted for pants instead of the high-waisted shorts.

But hell, your outfit was on point. The v-neck shirt was tucked into your navy blue bottoms and your favorite push-up bra was here to work, leaving little to the imagination where your cleavage was concerned. You had gone up a cup size leaving home, and you damn sure wanted Jinyoung to notice. But to avoid looking too blatant with your bare legs and perky breasts on display, you wore a crisp blazer over the ensemble; vaguely casual.

“Alright, I’m here,” you announced as you walked into the penthouse apartment. “Let’s do this.”

Perched in the kitchen, Jinyoung continued to eat his apple leisurely, raking the knife over a chunk before taking another bite. He leaned back against the sink, ankles crossed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans.

For the brief seconds you passed in front of him, Jinyoung did a full head-to-toe scan of your presence, lingering over every curve of your form and resisting the urge to nod his approval. With the trail of delicate, fruity scents following you, Jinyoung surmised you must have just come from a long, hot shower.

Unbuttoning your blazer, you propped your forearms on the counter directly next to him, sticking your ass into the air and glancing over your shoulder. Drumming your nails on the surface, you whined, “I’ll have you know I’ve had a very stressful day.”

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung sighed, “I never would have guessed.”

Though he stood at your side, he felt miles away. You sashayed your hips a little, inevitably drawing his attention once more, and murmured coyly, “I’ve heard rage sex can help with that.”

“So can a nap.”

You grumbled at another battle lost, standing up straight and stealing the apple from his hand. After taking a loud bite, you murmured, “The boy I knew couldn’t keep his hands off of me.”

Without missing a beat, Jinyoung snatched the fruit back from your grasp and chuffed, “The girl I knew would never have traded her body for money.”

You nearly choked.

Jinyoung cut another piece of the apple and forced it into your parted mouth, saying, “You shouldn’t bite into an apple. It’s bad for your teeth.”

You watched him saunter away, noting the broad expanse of his shoulders and the way his dress shirt hugged every line and angle. Once upon a time, you knew how it felt to sink your fingers into his back, to anchor yourself to him in every way possible as he took you to the heights of ecstasy.

You also knew how it felt to let him hold you, to comfort you when you needed his love most. Jinyoung was no stranger to you waking up in the middle of the night screaming, doused in sweat as your dreams turned dark and violent. There were too many things you had seen in your lifetime and your mind could never forget them no matter how hard you tried.

Jinyoung was just another frightened kid, no different from you, but he knew what to say and what to do. You would rest your head in the bend of his arm, your smaller frame tucked to his body as he rocked you back and forth. He would murmur the most delicate of words until you drifted back to sleep.

The memories of how passionate Jinyoung could be with you, how mindlessly in love you had once been with each other, brought a fresh surge of frustration into your chest and the sensation radiated through your body to the point you felt heat behind your cheeks.

Vexed by his dismissals, you trudged toward the door, drawing his confused attention momentarily as you shouted, “I’m going with Yugyeom to get food!”

The sound of the door slamming ricocheted through the apartment. Jinyoung stood rooted in place, watching where you had just stormed out, and nonchalantly took one last bite from his apple before tossing the core into the trash bin.

God, you drove him crazy. He loved you to the point of madness. Everything you did was both certifiably adorable and yet absolutely infuriating in his eyes. This little game he played with you was the highlight of his life at the moment. He was finally reunited with a sense of peace now that he could see you again, but he had no intention of giving you absolution any time soon.

You plopped into the passenger seat, greeting a surprised Yugyeom as he had been playing on his phone. You took the mobile from him and proceeded to finish his round of Candy Crush, asking him to take you to the nearest convenience store for snacks.

“You were barely in there for two seconds,” Yugyeom said, revving up the engine.

You groaned and explained, “We argued already. He annoys me.”

Yugyeom chortled.

“Your phone is ringing,” you told him a moment later, seeing Jinyoung’s photo on the screen. “It’s the asshat.”

“Answer it then,” Yugyeom smarted, focused on the busy street he turned onto.

You did as told and chirped, “Yugyeom’s phone.”

Surprised to hear your voice on his driver’s line, Jinyoung said, “You didn’t take a guard with you.”

You rolled your eyes and whined, “I’m just going to buy snacks. How much trouble could I possibly get into?”

“What’s he complaining about?” Yugyeom asked with a laugh.

Hoping Jinyoung would notice the difference, you drastically softened your tone when speaking to Yugyeom, “We didn’t bring a babysitter.”

“Mr. Muscles is in the back,” Yugyeom replied.

“What?” you exclaimed, turning around.

Sure enough, Jackson the burly security guard was resting atop the seat, an arm tucked behind his head with his eyes closed. Though after hearing Yugyeom, he lifted a hand and waved his fingers to let you know he was well aware of the situation.

You giggled and quipped, “Unbelievable.”

“Alright then,” Jinyoung sighed, satisfied you had enough escorts for a measly trip.

“Why are you even worried about me?” you asked spitefully, grateful for the distance between you and Jinyoung at the moment. “I’m sure I’m easily replaceable.”

“I’m not having an argument with you over the phone,” Jinyoung replied calmly. “Though you sure are a lot braver whenever you’re on one.”

You scoffed, but had no rebuttal. It was true. After a nervous pause, you stammered, “Want anything from the store?”

Jinyoung barked, “Yeah, three or four bottles of soju. I’ll need them if you’re planning on staying longer than five minutes this time.”

“You bastard,” you fired back. “I offered you my ass on a silver platter and you would rather talk about apples.”

Yugyeom and Jackson both made noises of amusement, though the latter still kept his eyes closed in an attempt to catch a nap.

There was absolutely no fluctuation in Jinyoung’s voice when he grumbled, “Yeah, because nothing turns a guy on like his girl flopping onto the kitchen counter.”

Bristling with fury, you snapped, “How would I know what turns a guy on? It’s been years since I slept with you.”

“Me?” Jinyoung questioned.

“Huh?”

Jinyoung shifted his weight, drifting into his bedroom, and asked, “I’m the last person you slept with?”

Immediately, you realized what you had said and fell rather spectacularly into a panic. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

Jinyoung countered in a low threat, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You pulled the phone from your ear and stared at the screen, biting your lip as adrenaline rose in your chest. After a few tense seconds, you pressed the phone back to your cheek and whispered, “Yes.”

Jinyoung was clearly off balance after your confession, because his tone was tender and soft when he spoke, “No one else has touched you?”

Pinching your lips together, you wrestled with what to say. Had he assumed you had moved on from him? That you had gotten into bed with other men in an attempt to forget about him?

Firmly, you replied, “No.”

It was true. You had found and lost love with Jinyoung. You knew you wouldn’t find it with anyone else - you would only find it where you had left it.

Now, it was Jinyoung’s turn to be silent. After a moment, he murmured, “I didn’t know that.”

Why did he sound skeptical? Did he think you were lying to please him?

Wrath reared its ugly head again and you snapped, “Oh, I’m sorry I’m not a massive slut. Does this lower my street value?”

Jinyoung snarled, “Careful...”

“Wait, it should raise my worth, right? I’m sorry…” you trailed with a hollow chuckle to hide your wounded pride. “I’m not up to speed on prostitution practices.”

Running out of patience, Jinyoung hissed your name.

Squeezing the phone, you shouted into the receiver with loathing, “The last girl you paid to fuck you, should I call her for some advice?”

“Oh, shit,” Yugyeom suddenly exclaimed, slamming the breaks as a car darted out in front of him.

You screamed when the vehicles collided and inadvertently dropped the phone onto the floor between your feet. While you lurched forward from the impact, your taut safety belt shoved you back into the seat. Fortunately, you and your companions were unscathed.

“Real nice, Yugyeom,” Jackson chastised, opening his door and stepping out to survey the damage.

“Don’t get out,” Yugyeom told you as you reached for your handle.

You nodded, watching the man in the opposing vehicle storm up to the car you were in and slam both of his hands on the hood. Jackson approached him, speaking diplomatically, but the other man was shouting, motioning between the two of them.

“I wanna go back now,” you spoke shakily, eyes on the drama unfolding.

When his polite manners didn’t do the trick, Jackson braced his hands on the man’s chest and shoved him away, warning him to settle down or there would be consequences. After handing the stranger a few bills from the wad of cash in his pocket, both parties returned to their vehicles amicably.

“What are you paying him for?” Yugyeom exclaimed with discontent as Jackson slid back into the car. “We had the right of way!”

“Just go before the police show up,” Jackson ordered, reaching into his back pocket with a groan when his phone began to ring. He patiently answered, “Yeah, boss? No, we’re fine. She’s fine. It was a tiny collision. She does? No, she seems alright to me.”

“I’m right here,” you grumbled, glancing over your shoulder. The concept of Jinyoung being worried about you warmed your icy heart for a moment, but you were still too annoyed to let the gesture soften you.

“I will keep an eye on it,” Jackson whispered, then hung up.

“He told you about my history with car accidents, did he?”

Jackson relaxed back into his seat, like nothing had happened, and said, “He just told me to watch out for the signs, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” you asserted. “My reaction is totally normal.”

“Really?” Jackson persisted. “Because my hands stopped shaking already. How about yours?”

You glanced down at your lap and saw your quivering fingers, immediately folding your arms and gazing out the window.

Stepping into the penthouse after a short return drive, you came face-to-face with a livid Jinyoung. Before he could utter a word, you sassed, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

He narrowed his eyes in reproach. “That’s not funny.”

Putting your hands on your hips, you dodged him and sang in a taunt, “It’s a shame you’ve lost your sense of humor, among other things.”

Jinyoung’s sharp tongue was not to be underestimated and he was quick to retort, “Yeah, it must be out there fucking what’s left of your dignity.”

You scowled, enraged.

Jinyoung planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest, and asked sternly, “Why haven’t you been with anyone else?”

A ripple of nerves shot through you and you deflected, “Are we really gonna have this conversation now?”

Jinyoung would never admit it, but he was overcome with feelings toward you. You had stayed faithful to him. Even though you left him, you had made no attempts to replace him. Every fiber of his being was drawn to you, desperate to have you in his arms.

“Why not?” Jinyoung finally pressed, advancing toward you.

Folding your arms, you stuck out your hip and tapped your foot. “Have you been with anyone else?”

Jinyoung wagged his finger. “I asked you first.”

“No, Jinyoung,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, abandoning any ideas about lying to him. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. I’m not capable of trusting another person that much.”

Harshening his expression, Jinyoung sneered, “Trust is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

You bristled, reading his tone.

“I’m suddenly reminded of how much I trusted you until the day you jumped in that truck and ran away from me.”

You threw up your hands, assuming he was back to the game, back to his desire to punish you. Exhausted, you choked, “I wasn’t doing it to get away from you.”

Jinyoung scoffed, “Really?”

“Don’t talk to me like you fucking know me,” you yelled, drifting toward his room for much needed solitude.

Jinyoung’s gaze narrowed, fire coursing through his veins when he hissed, “I’m the only one that knows you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door behind you. Plopping down on his bed, you fell to your back and focused on calming your racing heart. Because arguing with Jinyoung didn’t scare you - it excited you.

When you were with Jinyoung, the two of you got into fiery debates rather often. Both of you were reckless with your emotions, quick to indulge your tempers given the right situations pushed the right buttons. You and Jinyoung were adept at flinging sharp words and insults, but you never felt fear or emotional injury from your sparring with him. Jinyoung was the boy who held your heart. You knew he would never break it.

At least, not until you broke his.

Voices drew your attention a few minutes later. Jinyoung had made no attempts to engage further with you and you were slightly disappointed. Meanwhile, you had been grappling with the spikes of adrenaline still holding your attention.

It amazed you how little compassion your own brain had for your emotional well-being. Whether it be a small collision or even a fake car accident in a film, seeing either would bring back every visceral detail of the day you learned how dangerous your home had become.

The van had slammed into your truck, totalling it with ease. Your head hit the window and a concussion nearly faded your vision to black. Before you slipped into unconsciousness, your body alerted you to more impending danger - of men dragging you from the wreckage with no intention of rescuing you.

Jinyoung would never understand your hatred for the gangs. Not unless he had been through what you had endured that day.

Snapping from your dark thoughts, you opened the door and stepped toward the living area. You needed to see Jinyoung, needed him to anchor you back to reality. No matter the hurt and pain between you and him, he was the uncontested safest place in the world.

“Jinyoung,” you called unsurely, voice shaking as the conflict grew louder.

In your three days of being one of Jinyoung’s “employees,” you had only met Bambam once and all you knew about him was his handling of Jinyoung’s business relationships. He seemed to be the orchestrater, the man with his hands in every cookie jar.

At the moment, Bambam was shouting, visibly enraged. Even though his anger was not remotely directed at you, your instinct was to cower into the corner to make yourself a smaller target. As you paced backwards slightly, head down in submission, Jinyoung clocked a weathered glance at your movements.

While Bambam continued to rant, you thought of your mother - the way she screamed at you and her voice would carry through the house, ricocheting from every surface to the point you thought you were surrounded. At the memory, your breathing began to shallow and you stared at the floor.

“Stop raising your voice,” Jinyoung warned his friend, but his eyes were fixated on you.

Oblivious, Bambam persisted, “I’m sorry, but this is the biggest screw up since…”

Jinyoung cut him off to snarl in reproach, “Shut up.”

You remembered the way you had screamed when those men tore you from the car and the sound flooded all of your senses until you truly believed you were back in that same place all over again. The memories were snowballing, piling one after the other until you were buried under an avalanche of trauma.

“Jinyoung,” called Jackson worriedly, having finally noticed you.

“I know,” Jinyoung answered as he made his way over to you, grabbing your arms and guiding you to the floor. “Sit. Sit.”

To everyone in the room, you looked like a startled animal, eyes wide and chest heaving for breath. Following Jinyoung’s instructions, you wouldn’t call what you did sitting, per se. You more or less collapsed to the ground; your legs folding under you like a lawn chair.

Frantic, Yugyeom asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Jinyoung pushed some of your hair out of your face and answered, “She’s having a panic attack.”

“Because of me?” Bambam blinked.

Yugyeom was quick to scold, “No, you idiot. You’re just the cherry on top of a milkshake from hell.”

Clenching his jaw, Jackson turned to Bambam and added, “There was a little incident earlier.”

At the phrase, your mind gave you rapid glimpses of the car accident and your chest tightened all the more. Many pairs of eyes were on you now and your brain warned they were systematically draining all of the oxygen out of the room, robbing you of much-needed air.

“No, no, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Jinyoung demanded, cupping your face. “I’m the only one that matters. I’m the only one here.”

You wanted desperately to wrangle your breathing back to normal. You screamed at yourself in your mind that you were overreacting, that you were spiraling out of control for no rational reason.

“Everybody, get out,” Jinyoung ordered under his breath, careful not to shout in your presence as he seethed before you.

Shuddering, you choked in an attempt to gulp in more air.

Jinyoung gripped you, gentle but secure, and ordered, “Hey, hold my arms and close your eyes. Focus on breathing.”

You winched your eyes shut and imagined waves lapping on some distant shore. Even in your mind, the place you tried to seek was dark with storm clouds, the ground quaking when thunder boomed overhead.

“That’s it. Just relax. I’m right here with you.”

His voice seemed muffled by the rushing of blood in your ears. Your skull pounded, oversaturated with survival responses.

Jinyoung watched your face, relieved to see you were settling down in response to his words. Once upon a time, he was adept at saving you from yourself. Shushing your whimpers softly, he sighed, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe with me.”

The panic gave you one last spike of terror, a final attempt of claiming you. You hyperventilated in response, shaking at a fresh onslaught of adrenaline, but it was subdued and losing its power.

Jinyoung brushed his thumb through the tear rolling down your cheek and said, “Breathe.”

His voice echoed in your head, drowning out everything else.

“You’re doing great.”

You relaxed, breathing steadily.

Jinyoung angled his body, pressing two fingers to your wrist and seeking out your pulse. Satisfied at the speed, he ordered, “Open your eyes now.”

Your eyes cracked open slowly, tears escaping your lashes and streaming down your face. Meeting his penchant stare, you rasped, “Jinyoung?”

“Not now, sweetheart. Just focus on you,” he calmed. “We have plenty of time to talk.”

Composing yourself, you took a deep inhale and released the air. Feeling marginally better, you joked, “This day fucking blows.”

Jinyoung chortled briefly. “I know.”

Letting your hands slide from his arms, you began, “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I got carried away.”

Jinyoung fervently shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

Both of you got to your feet, the room thick with tension of a different kind. A smile forced its way to your lips as you had caught a glimpse of the old Jinyoung - the boy who loved you more than himself and never failed to drive away your nightmares.

Calling his name, you reached out for him and stammered, “Can we… just stop being angry with each other?”

Jinyoung exhaled, morose. Giving your hand a squeeze before letting go, he explained, “You’re angry with me. I’m angry with you. Time will fix that.”

You watched him escape into his adjacent bedroom and you followed without any doubts.

For minutes that passed much too quickly, you had been safe and sound in Jinyoung’s arms. Even now, every aspect of his body language was open and inviting. If you wanted to rush back into his embrace, you had no doubt you would be welcome to do so.

Noticing you had shadowed him into the bedroom, Jinyoung studied you and asked, “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a nod. “I promise.”

“Alright, then,” he replied, turning to leave. Your presence was suffocating him. He had too many desires toward you at the moment and he didn’t want to act on them yet. This was a slow burn - a power play he had to win in the end.

You sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at your hands and relieved to see they were no longer shaking. Rubbing your fingers together, you watched Jinyoung pilfer his pocket for a cell phone, dialing a number.

“Stay here and take it easy. I’m going to send everyone home,” he told you passively, striding out of the room before you could answer.

You nodded your understanding and listened to his footsteps fade away. Resisting a smile, you glanced around the room and mulled over the silly boy you loved. He was already trying to repair his harsh exterior, forcing any buffer he could to keep you from seeing he was still the soft, kind Jinyoung you knew.

Your overwhelming desire at the moment was to kiss him - to press your lips to every inch of his face and neck until he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you with the fire and passion you knew he possessed.

A moment later, Jinyoung returned to the bedroom, relieved to see you hadn’t moved. Giving you a look over, the two of you merely studied each other, neither uttering a word. Where did you both stand in this relationship now?

Jinyoung could see the affection in your eyes. He had soothed your fear and rage in one moment of tenderness and vulnerability. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to cradle you in his arms and let you fall asleep under his watchful gaze. For the past four years, he had been denied your warmth, parted from the feeling of your skin against his. Meanwhile, his heart - which he had started to believe was long gone - ached in his chest, twisting with need at the sight of you before him.

When Jinyoung shifted his weight, you knew he was a split-second away from finding a reason to crash on the couch; to put some distance between the two of you in order to hold on to his need to punish you. Longing to keep him close, you called, “Can I ask you for something?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Your eyes were alight with hope as you posed the request, “Let me sleep in here tonight.”

And there it was. Mulling through indecision, Jinyoung decided he could lose a battle or two if it meant he would still win the war. After what happened over the course of the day, there was no way he could deny you any longer.

Ultimately, Jinyoung shrugged, feigning indifference, and he surrendered. “Fine.”

Blushing, you quipped to ease the tension, “I won’t make any moves on you, I swear.”

“Take off your jacket,” Jinyoung countered lowly, without missing a beat.

“Okay,” you replied, slipping out of the blazer as your brow stitched. “Why?”

Jinyoung salivated at the sight of your body in the tight outfit. He wanted to bury his face in your full breasts and grab handfuls of your plump ass, but managed to keep his composure for the time being.

Judging by the emotionless look on his face, you had absolutely no idea of the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. Jinyoung was momentarily daydreaming of all the many, many times he had taken pleasure from your body and given you back more in return.

Jinyoung began rolling up his sleeves, like he had a job to do that would undoubtedly require him getting his hands dirty, and replied, “I will give you a taste of what you want.”

Confused, you weren’t entirely up to speed yet with his shift in disposition and you searched his expression for an answer. “And what is that?” you questioned innocently.

“Put your hair up.”

You cocked your head, curious.

“Put your hair in a ponytail,” Jinyoung spoke slowly, almost patronizingly, when you failed to obey and pointed at the crown of your head.

With a roll of your eyes at what he could be playing at, you did as told and pulled a tie from your wrist to restrain your hair.

Jinyoung approached you, nose-to-nose, and surprised you when he reached around your head and grabbed the ponytail in his fist. You groaned at the sharp, forceful contact and braced your hands on his chest.

“Strip,” Jinyoung ordered, nipping at your lips.

Eyes widening, you could hardly believe your ears and you complied with his demand as if it were your body’s natural reflex. Jinyoung kept a solid hold on your hair and kissed you with abandon, smiling against your mouth when he felt you trying to shuffle out of your shorts.

Jinyoung cupped your jaw as he slipped his tongue along your bottom lip, teasing you for entrance. Rather than give in, you leaned into him and shoved your tongue into his mouth, stumbling as your shorts landed around your ankles. Jinyoung chuckled at your mindless urgency and the sound registered in your chest, causing you to smile while you played with his tongue.

His hand fell from your cheek, landing on your clothed breast and palming at the mound before grabbing the hem of your shirt and yanking it to the side to expose your bra. When you heard the material rip slightly, you broke from his mouth to gasp, but in the next instant, his palm was on your waist and stroking up your bare stomach.

The heat of his touch traveled up to your head and clouded your thoughts. You could hear and feel every harsh thump of your racing pulse in your ears. Your heart was clenching in your chest, celebrating at the taste of victory. Jinyoung was touching you. He was kissing you with the fervor of someone that had never stopped loving you.

Impatient, Jinyoung released you just long enough to spin you around, facing you away from him. You called his name, heat fogging your mind even more from the rush of arousal of his rough grip on you. Jinyoung guided you to his dresser, pushing you into it with the insistence of a man starved for the feel of your body beneath his.

Your hands collided and fumbled with his as both of you made it your mission to get you out of all your clothes. When you reached behind yourself to fiddle with his zipper, Jinyoung grasped your wrist and brought it to the dresser, pinning you there.

Jinyoung was completely clothed when he pressed to your back. It was symbolic - you were naked and wholly vulnerable, but he was guarded and concealed.

Bracing yourself on the dresser, you closed your eyes and hummed with pleasure, shivering at the feel of his warm, roaming hands on your body. His palms skimmed and traced every expanse of your bare skin, touching you with the seasoned experience of a boy who once knew every inch of you intimately.

Jinyoung groaned at how soft you felt against his fingertips. You hadn’t changed at all. He could see every shaky breath you took and thrived off of the effect he had on you. Sensing you were desperate for his touch, Jinyoung kissed beneath your ear and coiled his arms around your naked waist like a noose.

“I want you to know something,” Jinyoung murmured, tonguing a path up the side of your neck while he tangled a fist in your ponytail. “But first, don’t utter a word.”

You nodded your understanding and submitted to his dominance, purring when his hand lowered between your legs.

“I’ve fucked many women since you left me,” he sneered in a low whisper. “None of them could fill the emptiness you left behind.”

A rancid taste took root in your mouth as the revelation weighed heavily on your heart. Other women had slept with your man. There were whores out there that knew how it felt to have him inside them. You clenched your jaw and checked your anger, because unadulterated rage was beginning to boil in your chest.

Smirking at the way you stiffened against him, Jinyoung teased his fingers beneath your lower lips, chuckling devilishly when he felt the dampness and warmth of your flesh. He coated his digits in your arousal, playfully teasing your entrance until your hips jerked forward involuntarily toward his hand.

Feeling you getting riled up, Jinyoung chose to growl in your ear, “I closed my eyes every time, imagining you on top of me, but I knew better. They weren’t as warm as you. They weren’t as tight as you. They didn’t make those sounds I know you make.”

You wanted to be aroused by this. You would have preferred his words to fuel your ego, but you were too busy being absolutely infuriated. The territorial streak you possessed flared and you quickly pushed on the dresser in an attempt to loosen his hold on you.

Jinyoung chuckled, releasing his grip on your hair to reaffirm his arms around your waist. “Where are you going, baby?” he teased against your neck.

Irritable, you growled, “You fucked other women?”

Jinyoung was thrilled to hear your envy and he squeezed your bare breast to annoy you some more. “Of course, I did,” he replied with a spiteful edge to his voice as he pushed his way into your entrance. “You weren’t around.”

You were momentarily distracted from being angry when his thumb rolled your clit and a tiny whimper left your lips. Jinyoung pumped his digits into your wet pussy, stroking your sweet spot with the pads of his fingers.

After a gasp at the feel of your walls stretching around his penetration, you clenched your jaw and spat, “You are the only person I have ever been with. You’re the only person I’ve ever fucking kissed, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung snickered and sighed on your shoulder, “Are you jealous, sweetheart?”

“No,” you smarted bitterly. “How could I be jealous of what’s rightfully mine?”

Thrumming at your declaration, Jinyoung grinned with pride and whispered, “Would you feel better if I told you I just used them to get myself off? I never concerned myself with pleasuring them?”

That did little to mollify you and you told him as much. “You were still inside them.”

“I didn’t come in any of them. Couldn’t risk that.” His voice dropped to a whisper when he added, “I miss coming inside this gorgeous bitch though.”

You shivered at his words, biting your lip as you remembered the times Jinyoung would say the dirtiest, nastiest shit to turn you on. Meanwhile, your memories also reminded you how it felt to push Jinyoung over the edge, to feel him losing himself on top of you. With a wiggle of your ass against his crotch and the obvious erection trapped in his pants, you whined, “I’m still mad at you.”

Jinyoung crowded your back a little more aggressively, sinking his fingers into your warmth down to the base of his knuckles. Chuckling at the way your legs quivered and you struggled to keep balance, he teased, “Well, I suggest you get over that in the next two minutes.”

Squeezing the corners of the dresser, you cried, “What do you want from me?”

“Right now, I just want you to relax,” Jinyoung crooned, stroking his free hand across your breasts and toying with your hard nipples. “I really wanna watch you come.”

“Mm,” you moaned, bidding yourself to ignore how angry he made you and focus more on his fleeting desire to pleasure you.

Jinyoung sank his teeth into the base of your neck and tongued at the crimson mark forming. Inhaling the scent of your hair, he growled, “You always looked so beautiful when you came for me.”

Listening to your pussy squelching around his fingers, you panted, “Jinyoung, I’m wet enough. Take me.”

“Who are you telling?” he chided, his fingers moving at an even faster pace. “I’m the one with a hand between your legs.”

“Jinyoung,” you moaned, desperate.

Jinyoung rolled your clit with this thumb and groaned in the back of his throat at the feel of your arousal dripping down his hand. “Tell me what you want,” he sighed.

“I want...” you stammered, releasing little noises every time his digits plunged into your core, stroking your walls good and rough.

You knew what you were about to say. You had passed beyond want and settled into need. Winching your eyes closed and sinking your teeth into your lip, you imagined how it would feel to make love to him after all these years; to feel yourself one with him again.

You craved it on a primal level, mouth watering at the mere thought.

When you failed to answer, Jinyoung seemed to read your steamy thoughts and released a shaky, aroused breath on your neck, rumbling, “Tell me.”

“You inside me,” you confessed without hesitation.

God, he wanted that. Your pussy was warm and welcoming around his fingers. He knew your cunt would clamp down on his cock in a vice grip.

His hips stuttered, smacking into your bare ass from behind in a seeking thrust. His body wanted nothing more than to go on autopilot. Feeling your naked skin and your undeniable heat pushed him to the height of his tolerance.

But Jinyoung was well in control of his priorities and pitilessly reminded, “I am inside you.”

Rolling your eyes with annoyance, you whimpered, “That’s not what I...”

With a vengeance, Jinyoung shoved his fingers deep inside your walls to match his words, “You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried out, moving your hips to match the speed of his hand.

Hunger gripped his voice as he continued, “You want this thick cock to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you shouted, grasping the corners of the dresser until your knuckles began to ache.

“No.”

Blinking in surprise, you exclaimed, “What?”

“I said no.”

Frustrated, you bounced your hips, driving to meet his fingers and simultaneously ensuring your ass coaxed against the bulge in his jeans. Though you weren’t clueless as far as this power struggle between you and your ex-boyfriend was concerned, you asked, “Why?”

“You know why.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Jinyoung bore down on you, wedging you underneath him with no way of escape. You howled his name and pleaded for mercy when his hand picked up speed, drilling against your sweet spot while his thumb rubbed your clit borderline viciously.

The orgasm slammed into you, consuming you - mind and body. You moaned at the top of your lungs, the sound abruptly cutting off as you shook in his arms. Your back curved against his body and you pushed at his hand frantically when the stimulation became more than you could bear.

“Oh, god,” you sobbed, fluttering limply onto the dresser and burying your face between your arms. Jinyoung was still ever so slightly sinking his fingers in and out of your heat, coaxing the aftershocks out of you while he rutted his clothed cock along your ass.

“Good girl,” he snarled almost inaudibly, fighting a grin at how hard you had climaxed from his fingers alone. You were extremely sensitive, which led him to believe this was the first orgasm you had experienced in quite a while. And he wasn’t wrong.

Jinyoung kept his body draped over yours and grabbed you by the throat. His lips were wet with saliva as he blazed a trail up the side of your neck before whispering, “I would love nothing more than to fuck the shit out of you. To stretch you open with my cock and fill you with cum like you want, but I won’t. Not until you beg me and not a moment before you admit you were wrong for leaving me the way you did.”

Tears pricked your eyes from the ministrations of his thumb rolling your engorged bundle of nerves, but were spurned even further by his words. You merely lay there with his body overtop yours, feeling the cold of the dresser against your breasts, and wishing to all the heavens he would just take you.

But more than anything, you wanted him to forgive you.

Jinyoung withdrew his hand and wiped your juices off on his jeans carelessly before opening the drawer at your side and finding a roomy shirt for you to wear.

“I’m back to being mad at you,” you hissed after finally lifting yourself from the dresser.

Jinyoung said nothing, though he gave you a stern, unaffected look before pulling the sweater over your head. You lifted your arms into the air and allowed him to dress you. Then, you shuffled to his bed.

You were disappointed but obviously not surprised when he didn’t join you. Noting an outline of the hard dick in his jeans, you watched him step toward the bathroom and considered pressing your ear to the door to listen to him relieve himself.

“By the way, I lied,” Jinyoung said as he stood in the open doorway.

Shifting under the blankets, you asked with indifference, “About what?”

Jinyoung settled his gaze on you, licking his lips at the sight of you sated and comfortable in his bed, and confessed, “I haven’t touched any women since you. I don’t have anything to give to another person. You took it all.”

Then, he closed the bathroom door behind him and left you to your solitary thoughts, missing the sight of the victorious smile that claimed your swollen lips.

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a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[evakuality]

Fluffy writing prompt for davenzi: they have to be separated for the first time for a longer period of time, one of them surprises the other by just showing up OR when the one gone comes back

Thank you for this prompt!  I know you sent this a long time ago, but I finally managed to get to it.  In these times, I do have to ‘warn’ for rogue hugging and lack of physical distancing after returning from another country.  Picture this either as an au where people can still hug as usual and/or as a time in the future when things are back to the old ways again.  

Four weeks, three days, six hours and twelve minutes

“You’re ridiculous,” Laura says, laughing as she watches David pacing the length of the room and back again.  “It hasn’t even been that long.”

“Four weeks, three days, six hours and twelve minutes,” David mutters as he pivots at the end of one lap.

“You do realise that walking back and forth like that isn’t going to speed any of this up?” Laura says in an infuriatingly amused tone as she leans back against the counter, her cup of coffee sitting jauntily in her hand as she cocks her head to the side and watches David’s antics.

He scowls at her as he pivots again, but doesn’t deign to answer.  The thing is, he knows she’s right.  Four weeks isn’t that long, and Matteo will be back within two hours.  But he can’t still the restless energy flooding through him as he tries to make his way through this last little period.  Because even though four weeks isn’t long in the big scheme of his life, it sure feels like it’s been forever.

When this whole thing had started they’d been so cocky and sure of themselves.  It was only a month, after all.  That was nothing.  Sometimes they already spent most of a week apart whenever work or study got in the way with messy schedules and awkward timelines.  Four weeks wasn’t that much longer, and they’d be able to talk on the phone or video call.  It was all going to be fine.

But that was before.  Now David knows better.  Now David knows exactly what it feels like to spend four weeks, three days, six hours and… he checks his phone quickly… twenty one minutes without Matteo.  

“You’re so useless without him,” Laura says with another laugh as she steps in front of him, making him lurch to a halt to avoid running into her.  “Here, have a coffee and sit down for god’s sake.  You’re making me dizzy.”

Reluctantly, David slides onto the tall stool at the counter and accepts the mug she presses into his hand.  She may enjoy teasing him over just how damn whipped he is right now, but she’s still caring for him in her own unique way.  The coffee is hot, steam rising from the centre, and he can already tell that she’s made it exactly the way he likes it rather than whatever haphazard thing she usually does because it’s ‘good enough’ and he’s ‘too picky.’

He looks up at her and smiles.  “Thanks.”  He sighs.  “I’m sorry I’m being so…”

“Weird?  Lovesick?  Irritating?” she supplies with a grin over her own mug.

“Jittery,” he corrects her.  

Taking a sip of his own coffee, David forces himself to relax.  It’s not long now, not really.  They’d agreed last night that David wouldn’t meet Matteo at the airport, that it would be too public a space for the type of reunion they both knew was coming.  Neither of them relished the idea of being quite so open with their feelings of relief that they were about to come together again.

But here and now, David wishes he’d said fuck that and just gone anyway.  They’d already agreed that Matteo was flying because who could wait the extra time any other transport would take.  They should have known this time between him arriving in the country and him getting to David would be toruture.  What the hell were they even thinking?

Knowing Matteo is in the country and on his way here is too much, and David feels the restless energy picking up again.  He’s about to slip off the stool and start pacing again, when Laura grabs his arm.  She raises her eyebrows in that way she has that makes it clear she’s endlessly amused by him, and he rolls his own back at her.

Still, he doesn’t start pacing again.  Instead, he focuses on his coffee, figuring that if he takes small enough sips he may make it last until Matteo is due.  And that would at least give him something to do while he waits.

Laura’s eyes are filled with such gleeful delight as she watches him try to while away the time that he almost makes a break for it to go sit in his bedroom and wallow in peace.  But he’s at least as stubborn as she is, so David stays where he is, perched on a stool and aggressively glaring at his sister as he takes the tiniest sips possible to get through this torturous wait.

The buzzer shrills, loud in the quiet that has fallen.  It startles David, even though he’s been waiting for it.  He puts his cup down with a rattly clatter and glances over at Laura who laughs again, presumably because his face must look as shocked as he feels.  She pats his arm and wanders over to let Matteo into the building, then she nods at him indicating that he should go out to the hallway.

“I’ll just… I’ll be in my room with some loud music on,” she says, her grin widening as David feels his cheeks heating up.  Still, he’s grateful.  Even Laura would be too public for this reunion.  He’s feeling far too much for him to be comfortable even with his sister witnessing.

He waits, with the door open and his thundering.  It’s been so fucking long; what if it’s awkward or weird to see Matteo for real after so long seeing him in grainy and jumpy video?  What if everything he’s been waiting for goes wrong?  What if…?

Steps echo, loud enough to reverberate in the stairwell as Matteo climbs the stairs.  He’s rushing, David can tell by the way those steps sound, and suddenly he’s grinning.  He moves out into the open and peers down over the rail just in time to see that familiar head of messy hair before Matteo looks up and his face splits into a wide grin when he spots David.

“Fuck,” he says, taking the last few steps two at a time.  “I missed you so much.”

Then he’s falling into David’s arms, his own wrapping so tightly around David's neck that he almost knocks him off balance.  They sway like that for a moment, Matteo's breath harsh and loud as he tries to recover from the unaccustomed exercise.  It makes David grin as he buries his face in Matteo’s neck.  

He feels solid and real, in a way David hadn’t even really known he’d missed until he’s here again.  His hair tickles David's cheek in a way which sometimes annoys him, but today it’s all proof that Matteo’s back and here and real.  His smell, which again David hadn’t even realised he’d missed, wraps around him, speaking of his presence, his realness.  It chokes something in David's throat.

“Don’t ever go away for so long again,” David manages to say while still plastered to Matteo.  

There’s a small huff of laughter and a tighter squeeze of Matteo's arms.  “Next time you’re coming too,” he says.  “I love Italy and my family, but I can’t do that again.”

Part of David hums with delight at the words.  That part of him never really believed someone could feel that way about him.  That part of him is always shocked whenever Matteo says or does something so casually to let him know just how much he’s wanted.  It thrills now, that part, flooding David with something warm and welcome.  

“Stay?” David whispers into his neck, unwilling to let him go until he’s got the answer he wants.

“Hans was ready to kill me when I left straight away,” Matteo says, pulling back a little to look at David.  “But there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here at least until tomorrow.”

Stepping back, he looks expectantly at the door behind them, and David laughs.  Taking his hand, he draws Matteo with him and back inside the hallway.  The door closes behind them, and David reaches up to run his fingers through Matteo’s hair, pushing it back so he can properly see those clear, bright eyes..

“I missed being able to do this,” he says quietly.  “You have no idea how often I wanted to push it out of your eyes over that stupid chat.”

Matteo laughs, the sound rich and vibrant.  David’s heard it, of course, over the last four weeks, three days, eight hours and some odd minutes.  They’ve teased each other and laughed as they connected almost every night by phone or video.  But it’s different over a grainy video or through a phone when David hasn’t been able to see Matteo's eyes lit up like this.  When the sound hasn’t been able to thrum through him.  When he hasn’t been able to feel it in this same way.

“I missed your clothes,” Matteo says.  There’s a teasing lilt to the words, but his eyes show something serious.  They show how much he’s felt this too, how much he, too, has chafed at this lengthy separation.  “So many times I wanted that hoodie of yours, the comfy one, you know?”

David does know; Matteo’s been routinely stealing that one almost since the start.  He claims it’s warmer and softer than any of his own, and David's never been able to deny him when he looks at him in a certain way.

“I almost sent it to you,” he says, moving so he’s closer to Matteo, so they’re almost pressed together.  Because right now he can’t bear being out of his Matteo bubble.  Right now, he needs the security of knowing that Matteo is here with him.  For real.

“I almost came home,” Matteo admits.

“I almost asked you to.”

After that, nothing matters.  There’s nothing else to say; any semblance of teasing and lightness falls away as they finally admit that to each other.  As they close the space between them, as David pulls Matteo in for a kiss, nothing else matters.  

They wanted to be together, and now they are.  It’s been no time at all really.  It’s been forever.  But they’re here now, and there’s so much time to make up.  So they do, moving together into David's room and into a bubble of their own, finding each other again, reconnecting in all the ways they couldn’t while Matteo was away.  

Now they’re together again, David thinks he’s never going to let go.

[sastielsfandom]

Falling In Love Is Easy, Dealing With It Isn't

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The constant ticking of the clock was usually soothing as it was a constant, now it served as a frustrating distraction. With a flick of my wrist, it broke. No one cared for it anyway.

Rubbing my face through the disappointment of this morning didn't help as I wondered why words were absent from my mind. Every language in the world seemed to be extracted from my mind. Enochian included.

This needed to be addressed, the sorrow in his eyes, the obvious comparison to others and ridiculous belief he isn't enough, I hated seeing it. If one of us didn't hold up to the other it was me, I am not enough, Sam is well worth more than I ever will be.

Being this distracted almost made me miss the soft footsteps that were Jack joining me.

He came behind me with a hug, and I could tell he was expecting one from both Sam and me.

"Hey, Father. Where's Dad?" It was unusual for Sam and me to be separated since we've confessed our feelings for each other. Something that didn't come to my attention until I realized how much I currently missed him.

I patted Jack's arm, looked at him and set my pen, paper aside. "He's on a beer run. At least that's what he told Dean, I believe he's also getting some vegetables since your recent intake on candy has increased. Did Dean sneak you that candy?" I asked pointing to where he attempted to hide a bag of nougat. The flush on his face told me enough. I'll let Sam deal with Dean.

"No... So what are you doing?" Whether or not he's biologically mine, he lies terribly like me.

I handed him the rough drafts I had started but couldn't finish. None of them felt true, no matter how beautiful they sounded. "Poetry. From sonnets, odes, lyric, free verse, rhymed, to ballads. None of them are what I want." I sighed and looked at the mess surrounding me. Why was this task so difficult?

"I don't understand, they're well written. What's the problem?"

"That's the problem. They're all well written but meaningless. They don't capture how I really feel about Sam. No fourteen lines with ten syllables in each line are going to get all my emotions for him." Defeated and slumped in my chair, I wanted to cry. The only thing that kept my head up was the hand the was hiding my face. Why is this so difficult?

Jack was staring at me before he sat down next to me. "Then don't."

I looked up surprised, "Don't what?" He gestured to the poetry.

"Don't write a sonnet or a ballad, write from the heart. Isn't that what it's about? Not the form but the meaning?" He asked hands on the table, I nodded. Have I gone about this all wrong?

"Thank you, Jack. I think I got an idea." The pen I grew a hatred for as well as the paper, I apologized as I began to write.

My frustrations dissipated as the words filled my paper. I would describe it as talking rather than writing, I did mutter through parts where I became beat until I changed tactics.

Hours flew by as I wrote and rewrote this poem, it was vulnerable. Perhaps it didn't have the imagery or repetitive nature as the others before; however, the honesty it held outdid any flow from the other poems before.

In the end, at the last line, I stared. I've changed it twenty times already. I wasn't sure if it was my attempt at procrastination or if I simply didn't like it.

Sam had checked in with me when he got back hours ago, I begged him to not look quite yet. He's managed to keep to his promise even though I've seen him pop in to see if I had finished.

This is why it was no surprise to me he's attempting to stroll past me in a casual manner but is failing miserably.

"Love?" I called out and he stopped his "stroll" and was acting as if he wasn't excited that I was finally calling out to him. He's adorable.

He held onto the back of my chair, towering over and his eyes scanned the perimeter before focusing on me. "Yes?" I motioned for him to come closer.

When he did I plopped him down on my lap. Often it's the other way around, but I enjoy this way more than the other.

I smiled at the bounce of his hair, and the fact that he immediately embraced me into a hug which turned into a kiss.

There was an unspoken "I love you" that we held onto for a moment, it took me a moment to remember I had a surprise for him.

"Normally, I have no problem telling you how I feel. I don't know why this is different, but it is. I have a poem for you to read. I would like it if you could read it out loud. If you don't want to, that's understandable." I brushed Sam's hair out of his face as he nodded. It was difficult for me to reach over to the table and hand it to him, there was a built-up fear that I needed to push away.

Sam got a bit more comfortable on my lap and gave me a quick reassuring kiss before beginning,

"You deserve more than a sonnet

Or a loose free verse poem.

What I wish to bestow is theatrical,

To draw you with beautiful imagery,

Reel in emotions by deeper meanings,

Use a repetitive language as proof,

Whether it's synonyms, antonyms, metaphors, or smilies."

I saw his amusement at this is what I considered to be theatrical, and it was. I set my head into the crook of his shoulder. He continued on,

"Ignorance is to believe it would mean anything.

That I can pour my heart out in fourteen lines,

Perhaps about nature or humanity...

Not you, not when I want to tell you everything and more.

It would take me millenniums upon millenniums to perfect it.

And even then I wouldn’t be satisfied,

No rhyme scheme can help show how devoted I’ve become to you."

There was a slight shake to his hands. I could see he was trying to remain neutral but his facade was breaking with emotion. He had to clear his throat to continue. I closed my eyes and focused on his silky voice.

"Rhymed poetry or an ode,

A tune of a ballad or one of a lyrical poem,

How much more delightful my words would be,

Praising you in rhymes and lines of fours,

But it would deprive you of the trueness of my words.

Beneath the soft-sounding words,

The layers of beauty woven through imagery,"

I couldn't help but think Sam reading this made it sound beautiful, it was his voice and tone that made that so. I wanted to tell him that but I didn't. If I did he wouldn't finish reading the poem. Instead, I ignored the shaking emotion that was reeling off of him and focused on the words.

"Love is a mere word without meaning.

Trust, kindness, integrity, wisdom, patience,

These are what I’ve come to associate with you.

Love is an empty word to me,

Simply because it doesn’t describe anything,

I know I’ve fallen for you, my broken wings are proof enough,

Yet, the word love isn’t enough."

I could read the guilt that was rising and brought him closer to my chest, shushing away some of it away. I wanted to do more but knew to remain put. If I opened my eyes I would've lost control and kissed away his guilt, I closed them tighter.

"How does it describe the ease in my heart with you,

Or the tender moments that fleet faster than the light of speed,

The gentle kisses that I cherish more than air?

My wishes of peace for you go beyond our physical beings,

Existing is overwhelming with you,

The thought of the sun rising without you,

Words don’t belong to the anguish I feel."

His voice and breath were shaky and hesitant as he spoke. It pained me to be the one who made him feel that way, I had to remember it's not hurting him, it's overwhelming him. He needs to hear these words, he needs to see his worth.

"Dreadful days are imminent and groundless.

Death has no hold on me, merely the empty does.

Fear is an abandoned promise no one can hold against me,

Yet, here I weep from it at the thought of Death coming for you.

god is cruel to create such a being and make them human,

Simply another shameful act of his he couldn’t part within his rewrites.

his death and executor will be celebrated, praised, his wrongdoings won't be forgiven."

He let out an empty, hollow laugh at the mention of my father. I knew he didn't believe many of those lines but wouldn't invalidate them knowing they feel honest and true to me.

"Endlessly, I am grateful that you humor me.

Claim to love me as I do you, and more than I can know,

How you’ve come to forgive my multitudinous strings of mistakes and grievances,

Understanding will never come, not as it came to love you.

It’s troubling how much you swear upon god that you’re a stain to his creation,

Blind to see you’re a saint, and he is the hindrance to his work,

The only prayer I’ve sent to him is thanks for leading me to you."

He reached for my hand, and I nearly broke and swept him up into another hug at the feel of his hands shaking in my own. The emotion that was rolling off of him was drowning me into a stream of strange guilt. Seven more lines. I can comfort him after the last seven lines.

"I hope you listen, my partner, my love, my human, my Sam.

As I’ve cried to you before, nothing is worth losing you,

Everything is worth sacrificing to keep you here with or without me.

I’ve been lost since I was created, I would still be if it weren’t for the pain,

I was lost until I took on your pain, it isn’t just a claim,

But a truth I live with as I carry on through your wisdom.

Sam, my human, my love, my partner, love is empty, you make it full."

As the last word was uttered, I could feel Sam fall apart. The tears he had forced away broke into a sob while I wrapped him into my arms. I had to avoid apologizing knowing it isn't what he needs.

I couldn't think as I tried to blink away my tears, it stung to see Sam cry, it was complete agony to be the cause of it.

Sam turned himself to face me, straddling my lap, he was trying to calm himself down as he cupped my face. I couldn't ignore the quiver on his lips as he brought ours together.

I melted into it just as I do any other time, but this one felt different as I tried to hold him close. It was as if neither wanted to let go of the other. I couldn't help but keep my hands on his face and let him control the kiss.

He was chanting my name in between small breaks of our lips, the love he poured into his voice and kiss was more than overwhelming. I felt like I was drowning before, I knew I was now.

When Sam pulled away he gave me a sad smile as he wiped away my tears. He was still trembling.

"I can't- I can't tell begin you how I feel..." He was biting the inside of his mouth to avoid crying, even more, making more tears flow out onto my face.

"I- I love you, it hurts- it physically hurts how much I love you." He said and tore his eyes away as he tried to get his feelings in order, I reached for his hands and cradled them.

"You force me to see things I don't like to see, such as me being "worthy." You- you make me happy in ways no one else can, and I feel like loving you is such a privilege." The honesty in his eyes was powerful, I wanted to assure him that I felt the same way. I didn't say anything, I could see it in his eyes he already knew.

"I wish I could write my feelings or be more articulate as I say this, but Cas I can't. It's difficult to say you mean everything to me. That I fell for you and I'm more scared of losing you than I am of anything else." The tremble in his voice was still present, it was a small mercy that it wasn't as present as when he began.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do when eventually we're pulled away from each other. How do you or me even begin to cope with that? I know you love me, and I wish you didn't. I wish you didn't care because it forces me to care. Because I see that when I'm hurt you suffer more than I do." This guilt he carries is conflicting in the sense I know he shouldn't have it, but it keeps him stable. While I want to take it away, I'm afraid of what would happen.

He pulled his hands out of mine to hold mine. He held them close to him as he cried, "I- I try for you- I really do Cas. I hope you see that I'm taking care of myself, I'm trying to see myself in the way you see me."

"I know, Sam. I know." It almost stayed stuck in my throat but I had to force it out. He had to know.

"And I know you've been trying for me." I didn't mean to freeze but I hadn't expected him to notice. I had hoped it would stay in the shadows and would remain unspoken, but it wasn't.

Sam got up and pulled me to my feet, he guided us to a couch where it'd be more accommodating to his height. I laid down first and Sam followed, I wrapped my arms around his waist and he held onto my hands.

Sam leaned into my touch and I could tell by his heartbeat that he was relaxed enough to fall asleep.

"Can we just stay like this? In silence?"

"Yes, of course, love."

[pax-2735]

GoT Fanfic: Come Into My Parlor (3/3)

Words of caution: This part has supernatural elements (sort of), implied murder, smut and dark! Jon - consider yourselves warned.

If you wanna play catch up, here’s part 1 and part 2. 

Summary: When Sansa goes to the Targaryen’s annual Halloween bash, the last thing she expected was to come face to face with her demons.

Come into my parlor

It was only after his footsteps faded, the sound of a door closing in the distance, that Sansa forced her own feet to start moving. Not towards the now dim sounds of the party, no. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to go back in there and risk another chance encounter. It was hard to imagine this night getting any shittier but the way the universe was treating her lately… she wasn’t about to take any chances.

Turning around, she went in the opposite direction.

Which is how she finds herself in her current predicament.

This must be the Halloween party from hell, she thinks grimly, as she rounds yet another corner and comes face to face with four different corridors, all leading in opposite directions.

How the fuck did I get fucking lost INSIDE this motherfucking house? How is that even fucking possible?

She knows her English Lit teacher would probably be appalled at the lack of creativity behind that sentence but right now she doesn’t give a flying fuck. Isn’t this the shittiest ending possible to the shittiest night ever?

Her initial escape from the damn party had quickly evolved into the excitement of exploring the old house. Sansa has never been the bravest of all the Stark siblings – she has, on occasion, even heard unflattering comparisons to a kitchen mouse (not even a garden mouse, for fuck’s sake) – but she has always loved exploring abandoned places. There’s something that speaks to her on a deep level, to come face to face with trinkets and artifacts that have been used and cherished long ago by people she will never know.

Harrenhal isn’t abandoned, but it had quickly become a study in contrasts, as she wondered across rooms that had been completely refurnished to its previous beauty and straight into rooms where no one had apparently set foot in more than a few decades. She’s not exactly an expert on recuperating old houses but she’s pretty sure this isn’t how they do things on The Property Brothers. The excitement had eventually soured though, once her feet had started to hurt and she had decided it was time to get back, only to discover she had no idea where ‘back’ was.

Way to go Alice. Straight into the rabbit hole.

In her defense, she has realized – belatedly, she’ll gladly admit – that this house is an absolute maze. Harrenhal was the pinnacle of Lord Whent’s dreams of grandeur and it definitely shows. Everything is huge and completely disproportional, as though it was built for giants and not men, and the inside is just as senseless. There are stairs that lead to nowhere, rooms where one would expect passageways and everything seems to be tied together in a loop from where there is no escape. She may have to resign herself to the fact that this is where she’ll spend the rest of her life, endlessly going up stairs and turning corners and never finding her way out.

You can check out anytime you’d like, but you can never leave. No wonder they say the place is haunted. At least, if everything turns out for the worse, she’ll have plenty of company.

She chooses the smallest of all four, climbs over the three crooked stone steps at the end of it and turns the corner, and comes face to face with two narrow hallways. None of this looks even slightly familiar which is good – in the sense that she hasn’t been walking in circles as she’d feared – but also bad, as it means she’s not retracing her steps back into the party.

Seven fucking hells. She really needs a drink right now. Or a cigarette. Or her cellphone so she can call the police, the fire department or even her mum. Anyone will do at this point really.

Alright, yoga remember? She takes a couple of deep breaths, starting from her belly and all the way up to her chest, to try and calm the fuck down. This isn’t impossible. All it takes is a little common sense.

There is what looks to be an open door near the middle of the corridor to her right, a soft silvery hue wrestling its way against the shadows lingering in the corners, and she makes her way there. If she can look outside maybe she’ll be able to pinpoint where exactly she is now.

Reference points and all that shit. Dad would be so proud.

The room isn’t very big and it’s crowded with old furniture underneath layers of dust, but the window is huge. The full moon stands directly in front of it, tiny wisps of clouds being pushed by the wind occasionally obscuring its glow. It’s like something right out of a witches story. That, or a slasher movie, she thinks gloomily.

Sansa remembers when she was little, how Old Nan used to tell her that she was lucky for having been born on this night, that there was something special about this time of year. She had never felt particularly lucky though. Right now, she just feels stupid. Still, she supposes, as she makes her way to the massive window, there is something beautiful about this night. Something special, that seems to call out to her.

The gardens that surround the estate are still mostly in disrepair. The grass has grown as tall as a toddler and covers the stone pathways in shades of dark greens and greys. Wild weeds have long since strangled the flower beds, leeching their way into the barks of trees that look older than time. Scattered around the edges of the greenery, antique lamp posts that have long ago grown dark stand as tall as giants, their shadows like black ghosts staring back at her.

She’s startled when she hears it at first, a low rumbling sound that seems to be coming from one of the smaller buildings to her left. Probably the kennels Ramsay was talking about earlier from the looks of it.

She frowns as she peers down at it. The thing looks mostly abandoned, with its barred windows and huge cracks lining the roof and she has a hard time imagining Jon, who is a notorious dog lover, allowing for some poor animals to be stuck in there. But there’s no mistaking the sounds coming from it.

Something heavy clenches at her chest and she suddenly feels the hairs at the back of her neck prickling, the way Lady bristles whenever she senses something foul. The gnarls coming from down below are steadily increasing in volume, something wild and untamed tearing and snarling and scratching at something, until they stop suddenly and everything is silent again. A startled bird takes flight from a nearby tree and the quiet is shattered with a long, powerful howl. Other voices soon join the first one and the black night is suddenly alight with the gut wrenching sound.

The chorus dies down gradually after some time and the night is silent once again. After the sudden howling everything seems deadly quiet, not even a speck of wind disturbing the few leaves still stubbornly clinging to the wiry branches. The only thing Sansa hears is her blood rushing in her ears.

“Sansa?”

The air hisses as she draws it in through suddenly clenched teeth as she swirls violently around. The shadow looming in the doorway jumps back and lets out a startled – and very unmanly – yelp. Her heart is still hammering away as her brain slowly begins to fire back on, her eyes widening at first and then narrowing in recognition. “Jon?”

He has a hand against his chest, the other one running through his hair in a nervous gesture she has seen on him thousands of times, and she can hear him clearing his throat before fixing her with a glare. “Seven hells, you just scared the shit out of me.”

“I scared the shit out of you? What the hell are you doing here?” she huffs.

“I was looking for you. Margaery said she left you in the bathroom but no one’s seen you since. I was worried.”

Ok, so maybe that melts her heart a little bit. “So you came looking for me?”

He shrugs in a casual manner but it does nothing to hide the pink that’s faintly coloring his cheeks underneath his beard. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost or anything.”

And now it’s her turn to blush as he gives her a knowing grin. “Don’t you laugh at me,” she says, as sternly as she can.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He holds up his hands to emphasize his point but she can see the gleam of amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Shall we head back then?”

She huffs as she passes him and he chuckles as she stops dead in the doorway, looking left and right. “Do you want me to lead the way?” he whispers close to her ear, so close she can feel his breath on her neck and the faint smell of the beer he was drinking earlier. Gods, he could lead her straight to hell with that voice and she’d gladly follow.

She elbows him in the ribs instead. “If you’d be so kind.”

They walk mostly in silence as they make their way through winding corridors and steep stairways. Jon seems to know where he’s going, barely hesitating whenever they reach a new crossway before he leads them left or right accordingly, and Sansa begins to believe there might actually be a light at the end of this particular tunnel, and one that doesn’t include a train at that.

It’s only when they turn yet another corner and start making their way down the hall that Sansa suddenly stops, breaking the silence that has settled like a blanket over them to call out his name.

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Course I do. You think I’m just walking around aimlessly?”

“You sure?”

He frowns at her, looking genuinely hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

“Normally, with my life. In this particular instance, however…” she trails off, nodding her head to her right before fixing him with a stare. His frown deepens and he retraces his steps back to where she stands leaning against a doorway and peers inside the room she just pointed at.

“Shit,” he murmurs.

She narrows her eyes. “I take it that means what I think it means.”

He gives her a sideways glance before turning back to the room, his hand running through his raven curls before he lets out a frustrated sigh. “This is the room I found you in.”

“Which means we’ve been walking around in circles this whole time.”

He turns back to her with a scowl on his face, apparently not finding any of this amusing. Well, tough luck baby. Before he can answer her though, the room erupts in a sudden flash of white light, the walls around them trembling with the force of the thunder that follows right after, making the glass rattle on the weathered windows. Sansa jumps, her jaw clenching as she bites down on the startled scream that threatens to follow suit.

“It’s just a storm Sans.”

She fumes at him. “Just a storm? Just a storm? Are you shitting me right now? This isn’t just a storm! This is Halloween, and there’s a full moon, and we’re lost inside a haunted house –“

“The house isn’t haunted,” he says, quirking his brow. “I can’t believe you believe in such –“

“And NOW there’s also a storm! I’m all for the horror mood of the season but this is getting ridiculous!”

“Hey, hey,” he says, “it’s alright Sansa.” His hands are incredibly gentle as he steps forward to rub them up and down her arms, trying to soothe her. “Look at me. We’re alright.” He’s really close now, their noses almost touching, and the breath she takes in to calm her nerves smells only of him, something earthy and warm and familiar. “Better?” he asks after a few seconds, and she nods.

“Sorry. This has been a weird night.”

He smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, look at it this way. At least we don’t have an axe wielding psycho on our tail.”

The shaky smile she’s sporting dies on her lips. “I don’t know about any axe wielding but we have the psycho part down.” He stares at her, clearly not getting it, and she sighs. “Ramsay’s here.”

“What?” His voice resounds through the walls as another roll of thunder comes crashing in. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”

“He says he was invited,” she explains, as she stares at him, gauging his reaction.

“No,” he says, and there’s an absolute finality in his tone that makes her relax a bit. “There’s no way. Rhaenys and Aegon would never do that, not without talking to me first and I’d never agree to it. At least, not with these many witnesses around.” He smiles as though he’s cracking a joke but it never reaches his eyes. Instead, she sees something hard flashing in its greys depths.

Sansa shivers as another thought suddenly pops into her mind. “Do you have any dogs in here?” Jon keeps silent, his face an unreadable mask as he stares at her, no doubt trying to make sense of the sudden change in conversation. “In the kennels. I thought I heard them howling a while back,” she clarifies.

He shakes his head, giving her a puzzled look. “No one lives here. Besides, I’m the only one who has a dog and if I had brought Ghost, I wouldn’t have put him in the kennels.”

Of course. That makes sense.

Jon gives the room one last dismal look before turning back to her with a sheepish smile. “Maybe you should lead this time.”

“Yeah, because I was doing such a bang up job of it before you showed up.” Still, she starts moving, leading them back the way they came, up until the corner where she turns the opposite way. She can hear Jon’s footsteps following close behind. It’s reassuring somehow, even if he’s just as lost. She’s not alone anymore.

At the very least, he’ll make for good company even if they never find their way out.

“So let me get this straight,” he says after a while, “you ran into Joffrey, Harry and Ramsay? All three of them?”

She shrugs. “My kind of party.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmurs. “I mean, what are the odds?”

“Maybe I should try the lottery next.”

He smirks. “I have to admit though, it was very satisfying seeing you telling Joffrey off.”

She looks at him over her shoulder. “You were about to see me do the same to Harry if you hadn’t been so quick to step in.”

“He was hurting you,” he says, and that hard edge is back in his eyes.

“And my boot was about to hurt him right back. Hard.” She smiles wickedly. “I was channeling Arya. He should be thanking you.”

He lets out a startled laugh as his eyes fall to the mentioned boots. They’re black leather, soft and pliant all the way up to her knees, with some killer heels. Rickon had joked about how she could easily stab a man with those. Or maybe fuck one. Jon’s eyes are now raking up her body, over her legs and lingering slightly at the apex of her thighs, sweeping over her bodice and trailing her neck before settling on her mouth. It’s a thorough eye-fuck if she’s ever seen one. And when he licks his lips before finally locking eyes with her, she feels it like a caress over her skin.

“I wouldn’t want you to ruin them. They look…” he hesitates before giving her a devastating smile, “nice.”

She grins at his cheekiness. They have been doing this for what seems like forever now, the friendly back and forth of friendship always skirting around the edges of flirting, the eternal will-they-won’t-they that has most of their friends rolling their eyes and, in Theon’s case, probably making bets. But there’s something definitely different about tonight. Something far more deliberate, that seems to be taking them much more towards the when-will-they.

The corridor comes to a sudden end, opening up into a large room with massive floor to ceiling windows, wood paneling all around and a gigantic chandelier hanging over their heads. There’s a huge dining table at the center, complete with velvet backed chairs, the brightly polished wood seeming strangely out of place when everything else is covered in what looks to be years’ worth of dust.

“Wow.”

She cocks a brow at him. “You’ve never been here before?” she says, remembering his earlier misguided bout of confidence about knowing his way around.

He seems to be remembering the same thing as he looks sheepishly at her. “In the house? A couple of times. In this room?” His eyes take a long sweep around. “I think I’d remember something like this.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but I need a break.” She struts inside, the carpeted floors muffling the click clack of her heels. The storm is still raging outside but the lighting seems to be holding up so far, several lamps bathing the room in soft yellow hues, a stark contrast against the dark woods and blood reds of the décor. Jon follows her in, pulling up a chair for her to sit before sprawling himself in the one next to it.

“This house was always more of my father’s project. He said there was something about it that reminded him of his Valiryan roots.”

She doesn’t really know what to say to that. The stories about Old Valirya – the ones she’d heard about as a child – were always filled with gore and bloodshed, gruesome tales of incest and madness, sprinkled with just a tad of magic and witchcraft. There’s something strange about this house, that’s for sure. She can feel it in her very bones, to borrow one of Old Nan’s sayings. But she always thought there was something strange about Rhaegar Targaryen as well.

There is something she wants to tell Jon though. Something she feels is way past its due. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you at the hospital.”

The twitching of his fingers as they drum against his jean clad thigh is the only indication that he’s heard her as he keeps his eyes glued to the carpet. “It’s alright.”

She sighs as she contemplates his answer. His quiet dismissal is nothing short of expected but it isn’t what she wants. “No, it isn’t. We’ve known each other ever since we were kids. We’re friends. I should have been there.”

“You were dealing with Ramsay at the time.” His eyes have seemingly lost their interest in the swirling patterns adorning the floor and he looks straight into her own blue gaze. Somehow, it gives her the courage to forge ahead.

“Robb said you died.” She sees him flinch at her words. “He said that when he got to the hospital the doctors told him they were trying to revive you. That you had died and they didn’t know if they could bring you back.” Her voice breaks but there’s nothing she can do about it, the helplessness she always feels whenever she thinks of that terrible night threatening to pull her under until there’s nothing she can do with it but drown.

He must hear it too and suddenly he’s leaning forward, holding her hands and invading her space, breathing her in. “But they did. They brought me back.”

Her smile is probably more like a grimace, her voice barely above a whisper. “What was it like?”

He lets her go and leans back in his chair, his hands running over his face. “I don’t remember much of it. I remember the stabbing.” He shrugs as though he’s talking about something meaningless but his eyes betray the pain the memory still causes him. “I remember thinking how cold everything was, how it felt like I was drowning…” he trails off as he sees her shuddering. “And then I just remember waking up with my father beside me.”

This times it’s her that leans forward, placing her hands over his thighs in what she intends to be a comforting gesture until his eyes darken and he raises his hand to trace a finger gently over her cheek. “I could have lost you that night,” he says, and something both warm and dangerous sparks in his eyes.

She swallows before giving him a shaky smile. “I think that’s my line.”

“No, it isn’t.” He leans forward again and his face is now just inches apart from hers. “I could have lost you without never truly having you.”

He moves, just the slightest bit forward and Sansa knows he’s going to kiss her. Her hand moves up, her palm pressing flatly against his chest and he immediately stops, making her feel a surge of power. It’s intoxicating, the knowledge she can stop him with just the barest of touches, that he will submit to her so willingly. She can see the hurt and regret swimming in his eyes but for once she doesn’t regret putting them there. If they’re going to do this – finally, at long last, actually do this – she wants to be the one to take that final step. She wants to make sure neither one has cause to doubt ever again.

His fingertips are still grazing softly against her neck, as though he fears this is both the first and the last time he has the chance of doing so. Her left hand finds purchase on his arm, holding him against her, as the other one cups his face gently. His beard is scratchy against her palm as her midnight blue nails graze his skin and he closes his eyes when she finally bridges the gap between them.

Behind her closed eyelids she can see flashes of lightning and hear the rolling of thunder from the storm outside. Or maybe it’s fireworks and the mad beating of her own heart and the storm actually exists inside of her. All she knows is that his lips are soft and yielding as they move against her own, giving her complete control over the kiss, and her brain is scrambling to catch up, trying to memorize his reactions. A soft nip at his bottom lip has him groaning, the tug of her fingers in his hair makes him tilt his head as his arm snakes around her waist to pull her into his lap.

She can feel him poking against her ass, the hard plains of his chest rubbing against her nipples as she presses herself against him, and she moans. That seems to be all the encouragement he needs as his control snaps and he grabs her thighs to lift them both up, never breaking the kiss, before settling her down on the table.

Her legs are splayed open and he settles himself in between, her knees cradling his hips and reeling him in. She can feel him rubbing against her most sensitive spot, white hot sparks of pleasure searing through her body and she tears her mouth away in a gasp. His lips never leave her skin, trailing fire across her jaw line and nipping at her ear lobe before venturing down to suck at her neck. His right hand is splayed against her back, keeping her up, but his left is slowly trailing under the hem of her dress and over her thigh, his fingertips toying with the edge of her panties.

She feels the rip against her skin more than she hears it, and she means to give him a dirty look and a slight scolding – those were some of her more expensive panties, after all – but all she manages is a keening, needful sound as he takes half a step back before placing his hand fully against her core. His fingers dip beneath her folds, easily parting them, and the lady in her should feel embarrassed about how wet she already is but she can’t, not when his thumb is brushing her clit in the most delicious manner, not when he slips one and then two fingers inside of her and she can feel her toes already curling in pleasure.

Gods, but the man knows what he’s doing. Her hips buck against his hand and he snaps his eyes back to hers, a smug grin on his face, but right now he has every right to be smug, she thinks, as she grabs his face and pulls him back up to her mouth. It’s only a fleeting kiss before she’s throwing her head back, his arm around her waist the only thing keeping her up, and she lets out a wordless scream.

When she opens her eyes again her whole body is still shuddering. Jon is looking at her as he brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture incredibly sweet after what he just did to her with that hand, his eyes filled with lust and something else she doesn’t dare to name just yet.

Her fingers play with the soft hair at the back of his head, her nails raking lightly against his neck and she’s delighted when he closes his eyes, letting out a low rumbling sound. They’re still so close that she bumps her nose against his as she tilts her head to the side to whisper in his ear, “I want more.” Her hands smooth down slowly over his chest until they reach his belt, her fingers making quick work on the buckle.

“Sansa” he rasps out through gritted teeth, “we don’t have to…” Whatever else was going to come out of that gorgeous mouth is lost as she pops the button on his jeans and lets her hand play along the fine hair over his abdomen.

“I know,” she says, her hands pushing his jeans and boxers down over his hips, fingertips touching the velvety hardness before she looks back into his eyes, a coy look on her face as he bucks against her. “I want you Jon.”

His uncertainty turns into a wolfish smile, his hands gripping onto her hips to pull her towards the edge of the table, the tip of him brushing against her wet folds. “As the lady commands.”

When he slides inside of her, the only thing she can think of is that it won’t take long for her to peak again. He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against hers in all the right ways, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of her with every stroke. His right arm encircles her waist, keeping her close even as his left hand moves between them to circle her clit. Her legs have wrapped themselves around his hips and her arms move around his shoulders, their tongues mimicking the movements of their lower bodies as they swallow each other’s moans.

Lightning flashes just as Sansa wrenches her mouth free to scream his name as her orgasm washes over her. She thinks she sees something violet sparking in his grey eyes as he leans forward to whisper you’re mine now against the skin of her collarbone but a second later thunder crashes, and Jon roars her name as he spills inside of her.

She’s still limp and completely boneless when he collapses against her, his weight pushing her backwards against the table, his hands moving rapidly to cushion her fall. She lets out a contempt sigh as she combs her fingers through his sweat dampened hair, willing her racing heart to finally settle back down.

He’s grinning when he finally raises his head from her chest to look down at her. “This isn’t how I thought this night would go.”

“Second thoughts already? Man, you’re fast.” Her attempt to look miffed is shattered by a squeal of laughter when his hands tickle her sides.

“Never,” he says, moving his hands up so he can settle on his forearms and give her a heart melting kiss. “My only regret is how much time I’ve wasted.” The tips of his fingers toy with the loose strands of her hair before he brings a lock up to his lips. “But I’ll never regret how tonight turned out.” His cock twitches against her inner thigh and he gives her a playful smirk.

She cocks her brow before giving him a slight shove. “Down boy.” He laughs, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before straightening, his hands gripping her elbows to help her along, even as she uses her stomach muscles to lift herself up to try and chase his lips back to hers.

Jon is tucking himself back into his jeans as Sansa stares at the mess between her legs, looking around for something to clean herself up with. “Where are my panties?”

“Those are mine now,” he smirks, and she huffs at him.

“I bet you’re gonna look great in them.”

He moves back against her, his arms boxing her in as he grips the edges of the table on each side of her. His breath is warm against her neck and she feels his teeth bluntly nipping at her ear. “Want me to clean you up?”

Oh Gods, does she ever. Even though she seriously doubts her body is capable of another orgasm right now – another knee-weakening, mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm – she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t very, very tempted. She feels him smiling before he moves back, allowing her brain to start working again. “Raincheck?”

“Whenever you want love.” He nods his head to a small greenish door, partially hidden by the wooden paneling. “There’s a bathroom over there where you can clean up.”

She’s throwing the paper towels down the toilet, checking herself in the mirror to try and make herself look presentable – never mind the marks Jon has left on her neck and collarbone as there’s nothing she can do about that – when it suddenly hits her.  How did he know about the bathroom? Hadn’t he said he had never been here before?

She’s still frowning, trying to collect her thoughts, when a strange noise, followed closely by a moan, startles her. There’s a door on the other side of the bathroom, probably a connection to the adjoining room, and as she strains to hear it, it’s obvious there’s something happening on the other side. The door isn’t locked, or even closed properly, the hinges creaking as Sansa pushes it open and her eyes widen.

Harry is half sitting, half lying on a couch, someone Sansa instantly recognizes as the blonde zombie from the party sprawled on top of him, her hand palming him over his trousers. She can’t see the blonde’s face as it’s hidden on the crook of Harry’s neck, but Harry sees Sansa. He lets out a strangled noise, his eyes widening at her before he lifts up his hand, beckoning her to come closer and she frowns. Is that dick really inviting her to join them?

A shadow moves in her peripheral vision and the door bangs shut abruptly. Jon is looking at her in concern as he grabs her elbows and gently steers her back. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, as he gives the now closed door a dark look. “This night can’t end soon enough.”

“I’ll say,” she mutters. He pulls her against him, his arms wrapping around her as his lips graze her temple and she nudges her nose against the crook of his neck.

“What do you say we head back to the party?” He pulls back slightly to give her a boyish grin. “I promise it isn’t half as bad as it seems.”

She’s about to make a joke over the fact that they’re still as lost now as they were an hour ago, but now that the storm is finally over, she can hear the faint strains of music coming in from somewhere down the hall. She nods, tucking herself against his side as they make their way outside. And just as they’re stepping out, she catches their reflection in the mirror, hair still pretty much disheveled, the remains of her red lipstick marring the black of his shirt, his beard burn making her neck look as pink as a new born.

He looks at her through the mirror, angling his head so he can kiss her cheek while still keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Happy birthday baby,” he whispers. And this time, she can swear she sees something violet flashing in its grey depths.    

                                                            ***

Epilogue

This time, as they start back towards the party, Jon knows exactly where he’s going. It takes them only a short while before the music is blasting its way into the corridor, pulling them back into the mass of bodies drunkenly swaying across the room.

Jon brings her hand to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles before smiling. “Do you wanna dance?”

She nods and he pulls her along, twirling her around as they reach the center of the room before pulling her firmly against his chest, eliciting an excited giggle from her lips. His arms reach around her, a palm planted against her lower back, the other finding its way up her spine to tangle gently in her red locks. Her own arms have wound themselves around his neck and she tucks her head against the crook of his neck. Right where she belongs.

He knows better than to blame this pull she has on him on anything other than his own heart. He has loved her for far longer than anyone would ever suspect.

It had been his reaction to her infatuation with that asshole Joffrey that had first opened his eyes to his real feelings for his best friend’s little sister. He had watched as she lost herself in her feelings for the blond jerk, how he gave her nothing but contempt and threats in return. The desire to see him choke over his own words was so dire Jon was sure his own hands would end up doing the job.

In time, she will learn how Joffrey died on the way to the hospital, choking on his own spit as bloody foam spurted from his mouth. Allergic reaction, the people will call it. But Sansa will know the truth.

When her path to college had taken her miles away from him, he had briefly thought about following her. But his father had cautioned him against it. She needed time, he had said, time to grow into herself and learn what she wanted. Jon hadn’t liked it, but he had agreed.

He had learned about Harry from Robb and once again jealousy had reared its ugly head. But it was Robb’s own rageful comment about how that prick had cheated on Sansa that had truly sealed his fate.

In time, she will discover how the pretty zombie from the party was really someone Harry knew – or thought he knew, in any case. Rhaenys is good at getting these things arranged, even if she doesn’t have the stomach to stick around for the fallout. Sansa will be shocked, no doubt, when Harry’s body is discovered, livid and cold and mangled in one of the mansion’s secluded rooms. Too much alcohol, the people will whisper, his heart gave out. But she will know.

His own death had changed something deep inside him. He didn’t exactly lie when he told her he couldn’t remember much. He doesn’t. But what he does know is that there was someone else in the room with his father when he had woken up, and one look into the woman’s face had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to have come back. But whatever else death might have done to him, the one thing that never changed was his love for her. If anything, it just made everything clearer. He needed her. He wanted her. And he was going to have her.

He knows why she hadn’t visited him in the hospital. While he was lying in that hospital bed, she had been in a different one, recovering from wounds inflicted upon her by the prick who was supposed to love her. Ramsay is the one he’s sorry he couldn’t kill with his bare hands. She doesn’t know it – at least Jon doesn’t think she does – but soon after his release from the hospital he had paid Ramsay a visit. His knuckles had been scraped raw as he had beat the sorry motherfucker into a pulp, his face a distorted, bloodied mass by the time Jon had stopped. Sometimes he wishes he hadn’t. Stopped, that is.

In time, she will hear about the disfigured body found in what used to be the mansion’s old kennels, too eaten and torn to pieces to allow for a positive ID. There will be speculation about how it was probably some homeless guy attacked by wild animals – and won’t Aegon be pissed when he hears his hounds being referred to as such. But Sansa will know the truth.

He nudges his thigh between her legs as he presses closer to her and she lifts her head to shoot him a dirty look. Her dress is short enough as it is and he still has her panties safely tucked away in his pocket. He kisses the tip of her nose in apology as he sways her gently across the floor. He’ll behave for now. His plan is finished and Sansa is safe in his arms.

In time, she will come to learn what he is. She will know the truth about the Targaryen bloodline and heritage, how the stories of madness were mere tales to mask a much uglier truth. In time, she will accept that everything he’s done has been for her.

He twirls his fingers through her hair, gently tugging her head until he can capture her lips with his own in a whisper of a kiss. Her eyes are sparkling as she pulls back to look at him.

“I love you Jon.”

“I love you too sweetie.”

It’s time to reap his reward.

[fuwafuwamedb]

Woman From the Heavens Pt 13 (Hakuno, Enkidu, Gilgamesh)

Previous Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve

______

Dumbasses.

The moment that Gilgamesh had seen where the being had been, there had been warfare going on. The punches were doled out with unerring accuracy. Blow after blow, back and forth.

And she was stuck beneath the two, finding them shoving her along in the dirt back and forth. She was pushed towards the bridge they had gone over. Then she was pushed into the water.

Back to the bridge.

Back to the water.

Her face met the waters of the Euphrates for the dozenth time and she found the two raging at one another. Gilgamesh’s treasury was out and being thrown endlessly at the being. The being was using more and more of their clay in the form of clay balls to throw at the king.

What was worse?

They were both laughing.

Endlessly, both of them just continued to laugh and taunt one another now. They were continuing to try to kill one another, landing blow after blow and pouring forth blood and clay onto the land. She could see the being’s green hair being yanked and tugged, ripped in places only to grow back immediately. She could see the being’s body cracking and falling apart as the king attacked him.

Not that Gilgamesh was doing any better.

The king’s arm was the first to snap, another laugh escaping him before he tucked it under his other arm and continued the fight. His shoulder? Not a problem.

He just kept going, bleeding everywhere like a gutted animal.

I love a dumbass.

She loved a dumbass who was fighting another dumbass in a series of blows that could only be described as suicidal.

Any attempts to move only brought her back to the river’s edge.

Eventually, she just surrendered all attempts at returning to the palace, settling onto her back and enjoying some of Uruk’s weather.

She had some soldiers ferry some food over to her via the bridge.

She napped, knowing full well there was no point in trying to find a more comfortable place.

Days.

Days of this went by.

The laughter was now a permanent part of her mind. She would never stop hearing their amusement and enjoyment of battle now.

“Ha… Our blows have come to this!”

Hakuno glanced over, finding Gilgamesh and the being both lying on the ground.

“We both perhaps have one attack left? But in doing so, we’ll need to defend…”

“Are you calling this a draw?” the being asked.

Was she finally going to be able to take these two idiots back to the palace and patch them up?

The king laughed, his eyes closing before he waved a hand.

“Hakuno! Tend to me.”

I’m going to make them both have a painful recovery.

There had to be something, just to make them both understand that fighting like this was the most idiotic thing they could have done.

The two both laughed from the moment she grabbed their ankles to the moment the guards picked them up and carried them both up into the ziggurat. And, like the two idiots that they were, she found them both climbing into her bed that night, bickering about holding her as she wondered to herself again about the man she had chosen for a king.

[fxckbiscuit]

Day 9: Ichi-go Ichi-e | The City

“So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

SasuHina | Rating: T | @sasuhinamonth

Ichi-go Ichi-e (一期一会): a Japanese proverb embodying the philosophy that every second in an encounter should be highly treasured, for it will never occur again; “one time, one meeting”

2:03 PM

     “If I don’t ask you this, it will haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.”      “What?”      He looks at her nervously, frozen from where he sat, phrasing and rephrasing the words in his mind he wanted to say but just couldn’t. The train was moving slowly enough to make everything outside a wondrous streak.      Intrigued and a little nervous too, Hinata’s eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement at what he’s struggling with. They were seated across each other for the two-hour ride, aimlessly dissecting whatever idea stumbled upon their vagabond minds.      Now the train finally slowed to a stop. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the windows, lighting up the lounge car. He gets off on this station, she remembered him saying earlier.      “What?” she questioned again.      The burden was on him. She leaned back on her seat in anticipation. The doors to the train opened. People were boarding and unboarding. A warm bright glow hung in the air.      Her lips curved into a smile. He had to say what was needed to be said.      “I want to keep talking with you, if that’s okay,” he admitted as his eyes scanned hers in search for an answer.      “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. Me too. But don’t you have a plane to catch?”      Sasuke continued, “I have a little time to kill so how about this. Okay. Yeah, we just met but…Fuck. You want to get off the train with me? Maybe go see the city?”      The thought was a siren luring her to uncharted seas. She leaned over the table, half-smiling at the idea, her mind not entirely made up yet.      “But…what would we do?”

4:55 PM

     “We never talked much, but it was alright,” he explained, picking up where he left off.      “Before my brother died, he liked to look at the night sky with me, which was deeper than any conversation, don’t you think? Anyone can talk to you. Anyone can look at you. But isn’t it quite extraordinary to have someone else seeing the exact same world you see?”      Hinata nodded in understanding, unsure of what to say.      There were cobbled streets and hundreds of joints. She caught a glimpse of a lavish, massive fountain that hardly seemed real—built into a palatial building, adorned with sculptures of godlike humans.      He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, now I told you my story. Might as well tell me yours.”      “Strange how we avoided this topic for this long.”      “I know. And now you owe it. You have to tell me.”      “But I don’t have one.”      “That’s bullshit. Everyone has stories”      “I guess, but it’s not good as yours. You got arrested. Arrested,” she argued, making sure to put emphasis on the word. He raised a brow at her dismissively. She gave in.      “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m married.”      Sasuke almost tripped over.      “You’re what?”      She looked at him for a moment, sizing him up. She watched different emotions flicker through his eyes.      “I said I’m married,” she flashed a smile of mischief. “…To boredom and distaste.”      Hinata could tell he dived headfirst into a state of relief.      He raised a middle finger to her.      “Oh, touchy,” she shook her head, cracking a laugh. “Anyway, anything relatively interesting that ever happened to me was because of accidents. Without those happy, little accidents, I’d be barely a person.”      A twenty-foot angel statue greeted them as they turned a corner. Up ahead they could already see the veins of the city, alive with the hustle of people.      “We’ve known each other for a little while now, and we’re stuck together so…here’s a little game. Uh, it’s all just questions really. I ask you a question, you ask me a question. Simple. Ready?”      “Yeah. Wait, we can ask any possible question right?”      “Of course. You go first.”      “Can you describe your first sexual feelings toward someone?” Hinata asked with a laugh. He shot her an amused look.      “Let me think…here, my first sexual feelings were consummated by an obsessive hookup with a magazine. Ever heard of ‘Playboy’?”      “Yes.” Her shoulders were still shaking with laughter when Sasuke dropped the next question.      “Right, what are the things that infuriate you?”      The sky was bright with yellows and oranges and pinks as they walked along the boardwalk near an amusement park buzzing with the noise of thousands.      He received a long, fuming sigh as a reply. “Boy, almost everything infuriates the shit out of me.”      “Yeah? Name some.” His eyes hovered over her short figure, glinting with mischief as he noted that his demand riled her up into a little ball of anger. As they walked around without definite aim, their conversation hummed with the city’s mid afternoon rush.      “I fucking hate men who tell girls what to do, like to smile or something. Hell, you’re just minding your own on a street, then suddenly a man tells you what the fuck to do as if you owe him something. I hate…”      Hinata took a deep breath and gripped the straps of her backpack, “I hate how people are dying fighting or caught up in a war conjured by people who don’t give two shits about anything. And it sucks that we don’t know what to do for them. I hate mosquitoes, I hate people with myopic views, I hate plane rides. Oh I hate those.” By the second, she grew angrier while he got amused.      Looking up at him, her face twisted in disgust as his smirk morphed into half a grin. Not a second later, they both blew up in a fit of laughter.      As they were calming down, she thought of a question for her new friend.      “Okay, my turn now right? What’s a…a problem for you?”      Sasuke looked at her and noted with deep concern that he found her endlessly fascinating. The thought frightened him.      “You. You’re a problem.”

6:38 PM

     “How long ‘til you leave here for the airport?”      “About six in the morning? Six-thirty at the latest.”      A breeze picked up, the tall grass on the little cemetery tilting away from it. He pulled his jacket over his shoulders to stay warm. The memorial park was still within the metropolis, the whispers of the city a constant sound. A rabbit ran past them on the wide staircase, descending to the array of old headstones ahead.      “I came to this exact place once as a kid,” Sasuke said, wandering around, eyeing the almost identical angel heads.        “Yep. I was with my mom. The groundkeeper told us most of the bodies buried here washed up from the riverbank,” he gestured to the patch of woods beside the grounds with Hinata following his gaze.      “Why did so many bodies wash up on the banks?”      “From boat accidents I think, and mostly suicides.”      “This idea of nameless, unknown people lost in the world, I always liked that. If none of the people you’ve ever known knew you were dead, they could only imagine what happened, give you a story weighing on both ends of a spectrum—the best and the worst…”      She tucked astray strands of hair behind her ears. He stopped by one grave.      “It’s similar to not being dead at all, no?”      “I remember this one. See, she’s twelve when she died, and I was that age too when I came here. Now I’m a decade older and…”      “She’s still twelve. Twelve forever.” Hinata finished his sentence. She fished out a pack from her bag, lighting up two sticks, and handed one over to Sasuke. It was eerie, he thought, how she could tell he wanted a cigarette.      But awful notions clouded his head, the lifeless twelve-year old left a bigger crater in him than he led on. The sadness of the setting sun seemed to have gotten to him. He exhaled. Everything seemed to be tinted with melancholy. He turned to her.      Just like that. His brain running a million miles an hour was halted in half a second.      He took in the sight of her.      He wanted so badly to memorize every detail. How old was she? What was her favorite book? Did she prefer coffee or tea? How many sticks did she light a day? What did she think of Tarantino movies? Maybe she liked Scorsese more? Has she ever been in love before? What made her get out of bed in the mornings?      While Hinata was finishing up, Sasuke tried to ransack his mind for the right words to say. Nothing came up. “Let’s get out of here.”

8:29 PM

     “From up here, you ought to think the city is alive—the streets are the veins, the people are the cells…It’s all a lovely, breathing chaos, don’t you think?”      Her eyes bored into the half-empty second bottle as she mused.      They were sitting on the edge of the bookstore’s roof, four stories above the ground. Sasuke thought they were so high up they were practically part of the night sky.      “Yeah, look…stars up above, stars down below. It’s tough to decipher where the other starts and where the other ends.” A beat closed in before he continued. “Pass me the wine?”      Hinata ignored him. She looked at the city beneath. Her entire world tilted. She closed her eyes, laughed at the way everything spiraled.      “Very gracious of you to call this shit wine,” she cracked him a smile. “It tastes like an open grave. We’re gonna be sick if we keep downing that piss. So let’s play. Best day, worst day.”      “Never heard of that one,” Sasuke responded, lighting the cigarette between her lips.      “’Cause I made it up, just now.” She said with a crooked grin. After drawing her legs up, she leaned forward and rested her arm on top of her knees, her pale skin the most vivid memory of his night.      “How do we play?”      With her lips slightly parted and a far-off look in her eyes, it occurred to him that she might be a little plastered already.      “Easy. We tell the story of our best day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks. We tell the story of our worst day. Better narrator wins. Loser drinks.”      Remembering she was nursing a roll between her fingers, Hinata’s cheeks hollowed out a little as she took a long draw.        She wouldn’t look at him. He drank up her movements with idle fascination.      Taking a drag from his own, it also occurred to Sasuke that he might already be a little plastered too.      Hinata felt herself flushing under Sasuke’s gaze and tried to distract herself by blowing smoke rings. His stare was puzzling, just like him. It stirred up her insides in the most fascinating way, morphing her smoke rings into shaky, pseudo circles desperately pretending to be round.      Seconds later, she concluded that his laugh was one of the best sounds she has ever heard. “That was horrible. Here, like this.” Sasuke showed her. He cracks his mouth open and blew perfect ones.      As she followed his lead, only wobbling, sad-looking circles managed to escape her mouth. A fraction of his laugh was heard again. Hinata stifled the thought of the inevitable morning where his laughter would be nothing more than a half-remembered vision.      Inhaling for yet another try, she held it in for a few seconds.      Maybe it was the small high of the nicotine rush, or the light buzz from the cheap bottle, or something else, he didn’t know.      When she parted her lips with the smoke pooling out ever so slowly, Sasuke had wanted to kiss her.      So he did.      And she kissed him back as the smoke danced around their faces. When he pulled away a little, she couldn’t help but smile a bit.      “Is this okay?”      “Yeah. This is fun.”      “Wanna do it again?”      She was sold. The night was cold but the hand on her cheek was warm. They made out some more.      He pulled away again. His lips grazing hers as he asked.      “Wait, how do we know who’s the better narrator?”      She shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

10:16 PM

     “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. The night had become colder. Glowing orbs of car lights pierced strange patterns throughout the street.      She was slightly terrified of crossing the street since everybody there drove like they were stunt extras from a car chase in a bad action flick.      Another sharp turn took them down a busy street. They walked and drowned in the neon glow of the city, eyeing the vibrant buildings lit by hundreds of multicolored lights. The pubs were everywhere. Pubs with proper names like the Apple, Conspiracy Garden, Purple Unicorns, and the Aged Ship.      “Here we are,” he glanced over her, brushing his thumb against her knuckle.      “The Drunk Poet?”      “Let’s go in. You wanna go, yes?”      “Yeah, but why’d you pick this one?”      “I noticed it’s the only one offering discounts for students.”      Hinata couldn’t even see the bar from where they were. A wall of people guarded it and a haze of smoke hung over, as if it had its own climate.      “What are you having?” Sasuke asked. “I’ll go and get it. Maybe you try to find somewhere to stand?”      “A zigzagger?”      “Right. Okay.” He threw himself into the crowd and was absorbed. It came to his mind that this was the first time they were separated since they met just hours ago.      Squeezing herself in between bodies drowned in liquor and sin, she backed far into a wall for a little air. There was nowhere to stand, she thought. Pressing herself in close, she examined the wall fastened with hundreds of ripped pieces of paper.            ‘Let us go then, you and I            When the evening is spread out against the sky            To lead you to an overwhelming question…            Oh, do not ask what is it            Let us go and make our visit.’      Sasuke found her there, looking intently at the wall like a psychopath, reading the grimy papers like her life depended on it.      He carried a pint glass full of dark liquid coughing up tiny bubbles. Passing her the glass, she had a brief flash of the disgusting wine they had earlier. She shuddered. He placed himself next to her then looked up at the wall too.      “I like that one. Read it to me,” he said, pointing to a poem passage.      “’Stand at the window as the tears scald and start,’” he threw an arm around her shoulders, earning himself a blush across the bridge of her nose. She ran on.      “’You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.’”      Her skin was alive with the feeling of equal parts wonder and doom.      “Hinata, I have a crooked heart. And you…” he bent down, giving her a light kiss on the chin. “…Are my crooked neighbor.”      He felt giddy so he smiled at her.      At that nanosecond, the world could have ended. And she still wouldn’t have moved from where she stood, staring up at him.      Sasuke averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was hopelessly hooked, and then buried himself beneath the scattered words again.      “I like that one too,” he said, distracting himself.            ‘What is the life of a human being—            A drop of dew, a flash of lightning?            This is so sad, so sad’      “I like it too,” she paused to think over the words. “But I don’t think I completely agree with it.”      “Why not? It’s true. We are so small. Life is so fragile. It’s an inevitable fight and we’re doomed to lose. Time is always never enough. I had to learn that the hardest possible way. All we are is a split second in the grand scheme of things. There’s no greater tragedy.”      “Maybe we’re all just little dewdrops and lightning flashes, born to a tragedy of being forgotten and passing too quickly. But I think there’s no bigger spectacle than that. I might be nothing more than a dewdrop, but maybe I can make ripples on the water or maybe tip over leaves,” she said, determined to disagree.      “You might be nothing more than a lightning flash, but maybe a little kid would catch a glimpse of you and remember you and make you feel like you’re not just one, but a thousand more. Sasuke, it’s not a tragedy at all, no?”

12:21 AM

     “Look at that lady.”      “What about her?”      “How do you think her story goes?”      “She helps run a food bank in her spare time. See her bag? It contains a small gift she just bought from the night market. It’s for the little girl who always comes by their truck. A lady of altruism.”      They were huddled on the topmost step of plaza’s stairway, overlooking the flea fair. The city twinkled with the string of lights hanging above the stalls.      “Perhaps she’s planning to kill her cheating lover. Not a gift on her bag, but a gun. She knows what a .44 does to a man’s dick. Now she’s this vengeful lady,” Sasuke countered. Hinata laughed.      She furtively pointed to a young couple. “The blue-eyed girl with the black-haired boy. They’re just about to go home from visiting the girl’s family in the next city from here. The girl works as a psychologist, but the boy is a fucking sloth.”      “Mm. Guy over there with the bowl cut…he wanted to be a monk and went to various monasteries. Changed his mind because all the monks did was ask if they could suck his cock.”      “Ahh. Sucking cock. Everything always comes down to that, no?”      He laughed. “You’re right.”      “About the cock sucking part?”      “No, no. About what you said in the cemetery. How you could make up the best and the worst stories for people.”      “They could end up anywhere if we imagined hard enough,” she muttered, pale eyes studying the ocean of people below.      “Maybe we could end up anywhere too,” he replied, feeling half out of his mind. Just a bit. It was nice.      She let herself imagine it—the crunch of browning leaves under their feet as they walked home, discussing magic in the universe, and cats, and ruling systems, and whatever the fuck there was to talk about. She imagined the cold hitting her skin when they arrive and don’t stay in their clothes. She imagined all the futures they might have, all the people they might become.      “Yes. We could. But this night is almost over, Sasuke.” She gave him the softest smile.      “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”      “I don’t know. The future is uncontainable.”      “Right. And unknown.”      “And finite.”      “And terrifying.”      “And beautiful.”      “So beautiful…”      “Let’s just pretend we’re going to die when the sun comes up,” Hinata propositioned.      The midnight streets were still awake with the cacophony of multitudes. He’s never been this far from home, and sitting right next to him was a girl he liked but cannot have.      “So we won’t be that lonely when we never get this night again, right? That way, I could imagine the best for you and you could do the same for me,” he said, accepting the loveliest of all tragedies—the quick, fluttering moment when their lives intersected, only to part and go their separate ways again.      He knew what she meant.      “Exactly.” Hinata looked at him, feeling both happiness and hopelessness sink in as the lights faltered beneath them.      Sasuke’s voice was just above a whisper, hoping to keep the next few words a little secret between them and the universe. “So is that an agreement? Let’s both die in the morning?”

5:50 AM

     “Let’s just stay here for a while and watch the world go by.”      So they lazed there—backs against a thousand blades of grass, fingers intertwined, staring up at a cloudless summer sky.      “This is it, Hinata. We’re going to die soon.”      “I know.”      “What could we do?”      “Take joy in it.”      She shifted on her side to burn his image on her mind: crooked smile, tousled hair, careful hands, eyes the color of the night sky.      He thought of all the dark. And the quiet. And the city. And her. And her eyes. And her lips. Mostly her eyes—her eyes looking back at his like there was something inside him worth seeing.      The buttons of her shirt were fastened all the way up. He subtracted three. He lifted a hand to trace her collarbones.      She wondered what it’d be like to memorize every line on his fingertips. He lifted his head to kiss her neck. Her fingertips grazed the grass and then his hair.      “Almost forgot,” reaching into his jacket, he drew out a piece of paper. “I got something for you.”      “Oh. You stole this from the Drunk Poet,” she glanced at him then laughed.      “Yep. You should call the cops on me,” he said, smiling. Silently, she read on.            ‘Loafe with me on the grass…            Loose the stop from your throat,            Not words, not music or rhyme I want…            Not custom or lecture, not even the best,            Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice            I mind how we lay in June,            Such a transparent summer morning’      Not wanting to catch sight of the rising sun, she laid on her stomach, whispering something.      “What did you just say?” Sasuke asked, placing a hand on the small of her back. The corners of her mouth turned up.      “Today’s a good day to die.”

Thank you for reading!!

Art: idontliveinatent Excerpts: T.S. Eliot, W.H. Auden, R. Akutagawa, W. Whitman Plot: R. Linklater

[artificialqueens]

intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 6/10 - beanierose

AN: thank you as always to validation station, i love you ladies endlessly. and to stutter, for looking this over, for sharing your wisdom, and for being the most wonderful.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.] [five.]

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,282 words

Trixie is dozing lengthways on the couch. When she got here she took her braids out, which Katya has quickly taken to mean that Trixie wants her hair to be played with. She’s got her head pillowed on Katya’s thighs and her eyes closed, Katya’s fingers sifting slowly through the hair at her temples and making her sleepy and smitten. It’s warm here next to the fire and Trixie feels so contented that she would be wriggling with it if she had the energy.

Halloween was three weeks ago. Nothing has really changed except that now whenever Trixie looks at Katya and her heart gets full up with wanting to kiss her so badly, she actually gets to. The weather turned very suddenly, like the whole town is trapped beneath a dome and it’s about to be turned upside down and shaken. It’s meant they’ve been cuddling a lot, piling all the blankets in the house on Trixie’s bed and generating some heat of their own. Dolly gets shut out of their bedroom in the evenings now, and Katya will sometimes roll out of bed and let her back in on her way to get a huge sweater for each of them to sleep in.

Trixie has slept with a few people in her time; when she moved to Los Angeles she explored her sexuality in great detail. It’s never been like this. Katya’s touches linger on her skin. Sometimes it feels like she has more hands than is possible. The first time, when Trixie got undressed, a fuse had blown and all the lights in the house had gone out at once. Sometimes when she’s riding Katya’s face, it feels like the edges of the room shift into soft focus and Katya’s breathing is so loud that she can’t hear anything else. Not the chickens chirruping outside in the coop, not Dolly’s jealous barking from outside the door.

They haven’t put a label on anything yet, but they’re happy. Trixie is so happy that sometimes she can hardly stand it. She wakes up in the mornings to Katya pottering in the kitchen or sitting against the headboard next to her or sometimes, if she’s really lucky, curled around her and breathing hot little puffs onto the back of her neck. Katya likes to tell her that she’s beautiful but doesn’t like to hear it herself, always cuts Trixie’s soft words down with something scathing and self-deprecating.

It’s nice to laugh in bed. Trixie never had that with Bob, or with anyone she’s ever been with before. One time last week Trixie had to push Katya away from her with her feet at her shoulders and flop, exhausted and galvanised, onto her back. Katya crawled up the bed to lie next to her with a leg slung over her hips and everywhere their skins touched crackled and made Trixie twitch.

She’d been staticky for a half hour afterwards, and every time Katya touched her (which she does a lot) Trixie had jerked like a marionette. Her strings are in Katya’s hands all of the time; she finds herself shadowing Katya’s movements without even thinking about it, echoing the arch of her body up off the mattress and the grasp of her hands.

“Trixie, honey?” Katya touches her thumb to Trixie’s ear. “Are you awake?”

She manages a tiny noise of agreement that makes Katya laugh. Two strong hands come to her shoulders to help bring her upright, and Trixie emerges grumbling and disoriented into the evening. Katya kisses each of her cheeks and then the tip of her nose. She’s smiling, and she’s so warm, and Trixie wants her so much. She keeps wondering how long it’s going to be like this, how long she’s going to ache every time she looks at Katya.

Their kiss builds slowly. Katya’s tongue is a scalding, seeking thing through her mouth and Trixie opens to her, scrambles to get her hands up beneath Katya’s shirt. She skims her knuckles up her abdomen and around, grazes the sides of her breasts to make her gasp. Katya wraps her fingers around Trixie’s wrists and pulls her hands out from underneath her sweater, keeps her in place with a tight grip. The desire is still there, but all of the urgency drains out of her at the way Katya gentles her with the sweep of her thumbs over the backs of Trixie’s hands.

“It’s snowing,” Katya says.

When Trixie turns to look she chokes out a breath of jubilant laughter. She hasn’t seen the snow for nine years, not since she moved to Los Angeles. They hurry to get into their warm things, clutching at each other and stumbling like children. Katya’s knitted beanie is on crooked and Trixie straightens it for her, kisses her once and then one more time just because she looks so cute.

Outside, Katya wanders off right away. It must have been snowing for a while before she woke Trixie up because it’s already a couple of inches deep. She’s pacing around and around and looking at the tracks her galoshes are making. Trixie tips her face up towards the sky and lets the peace of the bright-dark earth fill her up. Flakes collect in her eyelashes and she sticks out her tongue, likes to feel the cold turning slowly warm. When she straightens up again she sees Katya spinning in a circle with her arms stretched out, her grin as wide as the arc of her hands. She is so cute that Trixie can hardly stand it. She feels phantom hands at her back, through her wool coat, and they propel her over to Katya. They fit so neatly together, and Katya hides her cold face inside of Trixie’s scarf and stuffs her bare hands into the back pockets of Trixie’s pants.

“Are you cold?” Katya murmurs.

“Look, I’m just a guarded person, okay?”

Katya snorts and squeezes Trixie’s ass, draws their hips together. “Shut up. You’re not guarded. Not with me.”

“Yeah, well, you make it impossible. Getting into all of my nooks and crannies with your witch talons.”

Katya doesn’t laugh. Not the way Trixie was hoping for. She gets a little huff, of acknowledgement more than amusement. Katya pulls away a bit but leaves her hands in Trixie’s back pockets and squeezes again. Trixie sifts her gloved fingers through the ends of Katya’s hair. It makes static, and she crackles in the electric night.

“You’re pretty in the snow,” Trixie says quietly. The whole world is silent and humbled around them. She wants to stand here for a long time, holding this miraculous woman and watching their twin breaths form little clouds between them.

Katya takes her hands out of Trixie’s pockets so she can shove at her chest instead. Her fingers are red with the cold, her knuckles swollen and just beginning to crack with tiny fissures. Trixie almost, almost goes back inside to find some gloves for her, but she can’t bear to move just yet. Later the ploughs will come through and the streets will be remade in salt and grit. It feels like they’re the only ones awake, the only ones alive, and she won’t leave for even a second.

“Oh!” Katya says, and drops immediately to the ground.

She starfishes outwards and sweeps her limbs back and forth, grinning up at Trixie from her back. The snow is landing on her face and collecting in her lashes and her bangs. Her hat is coming off again and when she sits up it remains on the snow-covered ground where her head just was.

“Trixie, honey, make an angel with me. Come on, come on, please.”

There’s no need for Katya to beg. Trixie’s already going to the ground, trying to figure out how to get onto her back gracefully. They haven’t yet been together long enough that she’s ready to discard all of her layers. She’d like to keep a little bit of decorum in front of Katya, for a while longer.

She’s close enough that the wings of her angel just brush the wings of Katya’s. She’s sitting up beside her, twisted around to watch with one hand planted carefully within the boundary of her angel’s body to support herself.

When she’s done, Trixie gets to her feet. She hauls Katya up as well, rough so that she’ll stumble into her and Trixie will get to catch her, have the line of her body press in close. It makes her scuff the bottom of her angel’s hem, but Trixie kisses the grumbling right off her mouth before she can even really get it out. It’s freezing, but Katya’s kiss is hot and intrusive. She kisses like she’s trying to learn every secret Trixie has ever had, like she wants to peer inside of Trixie’s chest. She kisses like she could do it for hours and hours and never get tired of it, never want to take things further.

The whole world around them is muffled, like it often gets when she’s kissing Katya. Trixie almost wants to go to her knees with reverence for the great splendour of the earth. She won’t, because she’s all wet from making her snow angel and she’s shivering with it, but the idea is there all the same.

“Mama, you keep rattling like that you’re gonna bite right through your tongue. And I have plans for it later, so I need you to not do that.”

Trixie huffs and wraps her arms tighter around Katya, squeezes until she hears all of the breath come out of her in a great rush. “It’s not my fault some lunatic made me lay down in the snow.”

“It’s lie down, honey, is the conventional verbiage.”

“Oh and you know so much about convention?” Trixie gets her hands inside of Katya’s coat and draws her close until their chests are pressed together, proving her point. “God, you’re the worst person I’ve ever met. Don’t ever speak to me again. Take me to bed.”

That makes Katya laugh so loud and so long, her head tipped back as she howls into the night like a jackal. When she’s done she grabs clumsily for both of Trixie’s hands and starts tugging her backwards. She isn’t watching where she’s going, too busy grinning widely at Trixie and blinking the still-falling snow out of her eyes, but she doesn’t stumble or fall down. Trixie doesn’t know how she can do that, but she’s glad for it.

They both peel out of their damp clothes in the mudroom and Katya goes to load everything into the dryer. The dog took one look at the snow and scurried away, tail low and long between her hind legs. She’s lying by the fire now, the last embers burning out in the grate. Trixie bends over to stroke the silk of her ears and the soft place right at the crown of her head.

“Hey, before I pound you out,” Katya says from right behind Trixie. It makes her jump, and makes her cheeks warm. She turns to see her, one eyebrow arched and the smudged red seam of her mouth pulled taut in a grin. “I have a present for Dolly.”

“Oh sure. I’ll give you two some time alone together.”

Trixie, obviously, is not going anywhere. She sinks onto the couch and whistles for the dog, who takes a long time heaving her lumbering body up off the hardwood and padding over. Trixie fusses at her, capturing her head and scattering kisses all across her snout. She only really gets to love on her like this when Katya’s not in the room, because these days the dog has a clear preference.

“Here, milaya devushka. Come here, look what I have for you.”

Katya sits on the floor at Trixie’s feet, leaning back against her shins. Trixie works her fingers absent-mindedly at Katya’s shoulders, kneading her muscles. She has something balled up in both hands and she encourages Dolly to poke at it with her snout for a minute before she unfolds it and holds it up.

“Oh my God, you knitted her a sweater.” Trixie doesn’t mean for her voice to sound all punched out with awe like that, but she can’t help herself. It’s pink and has a folded over collar to keep Dolly cosy and it’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for Trixie. “That’s so gay. Wow.”

“Trixie look at her, she’s so skinny, she’s not built for winter on a farm. And she’s stylish. This is an important moment in the history of dog fashion.”

Trixie laughs and cups Katya’s cheeks. She’s leaning with her head tipped backwards against Trixie’s knees, looking at her upside down, and she is unfairly gorgeous even from this unflattering angle. Trixie bows over, her spine protesting, and kisses the tip of Katya’s nose.

“Dog fashion, huh? You follow that closely? That where you get all of your style tips?”

“Shut up, shut up, I hate you!” Katya thrashes wildly against Trixie’s shins. “Can I put it on her now?”

The dog has settled next to Katya, her head resting on Katya’s thighs. It’s her preferred position. One day last week Trixie had finished making dinner and gone to find Katya, discovered her sitting on the floor just like this and holding Dolly’s head cradled in one hand while the dog snoozed. Her whole body wiggles with pure canine joy as Katya eases the sweater over her head and guides her two front legs into the holes.

“That is…the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Katya leans back harder against Trixie’s legs until she separates them to make room for her, and she wraps her arms around the backs of Trixie’s calves and leans her cheek against Trixie’s knee. Dolly has flopped over onto her back, overcome with ecstasy, and the two of them watch her delighted squirming together for a little while.

“It’s not too much?”

“Oh it’s absolutely too much, you psycho. I love it. She loves it.”

Over the last few weeks Trixie has grown accustomed to having Katya’s head between her thighs, but not like this. She gets up slowly, careful not to step on Katya, and when she gets to her feet as well Trixie wraps both arms around her and kisses her forehead. There’s no music, but Trixie sways them anyway. The snow is still falling in fat flakes and it makes the living room feel intimate and insulated.

Tomorrow morning she’ll have to leave early, earlier than usual, and make sure the animals are alright. They’ll be huddled up together close in the hay, she knows that, but a part of her still worries whenever she’s away from them. She has briefly, recklessly debated the merits of loading the truck bed with two goats and five chickens and one curmudgeonly rooster.

“Hey,” Trixie says, quietly enough that Katya could choose not to hear if she wanted. She gets a tiny hum in response, and Katya lifts her head from Trixie’s chest to look at her. “I like you so much.”

Katya wrinkles her nose. “Disgusting. Awful. You promised me you wouldn’t be sincere ever again.”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

She doesn’t mean to be hurt by it. She shouldn’t be hurt by it. It’s just that it’s warm in the living room and Katya is here in her arms, looking up at her, and Trixie still can’t quite believe any of this is really happening. She feels raw this evening, overcome with tenderness, and it must be all over her face. Katya touches her thumb to Trixie’s chin and draws her face down so she can kiss her.

It’s a soft, closed-mouth thing and Katya has her free hand in Trixie’s hair, not moving. When they break apart she smiles and leaves her eyes closed for an extra couple of seconds. She opens them and they’re dark in the low light of the room, her pupils blown out wide.

“You make me so happy. You know that.”

“Yeah.” She does.

Trixie gets her hands underneath Katya’s sweater to touch the smooth, firm plane of her stomach. She loves to touch her bare skin. Katya is soft everywhere, but strong. Sometimes Trixie is driven to distraction by the flex of tendons in her forearms or her thighs and Katya has to tug on her hair to remind her of what she’s doing. This time, Katya yelps and twists out of Trixie’s grip, jerks back away from her.

“Oh, ow, your hands are freezing. Get away from me.”

Even as she’s saying it she reaches for Trixie and takes her left hand, captures it between each of hers. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly through her nose like she’s focusing very hard, her lips moving a tiny bit. Warmth spreads from the centre of Trixie’s palm out into her fingertips and up the length of her forearm. She feels heat blooming in her elbows and her toes and the tip of her nose, and when Katya lets her go the furious pink of her skin has faded away. Trixie gives Katya her right hand without being asked to let her do the same. She’s always so warm, like it comes from the core of her. Trixie hasn’t gone to bed cold since Halloween.

“Trixie,” Katya says very softly. “I want you so much that I can’t stand it. But don’t let it inflate your ego, I really can’t handle it if I have two ladies vying for my attention.” Her eyes dart to Dolly, on her back in her sweater with all four legs in the air, before she meets Trixie’s gaze again.

It does inflate her ego, a little bit. Katya is her favourite person to be around, the only person she really wants to be around. It’s good to hear that she is made equally as useless as Trixie by whatever this is between them. She doesn’t need to hear it every single day, but her heart feels too big for her chest tonight and she wants to be babied a little bit, needs Katya to be gentle with her.

“Will you take me to bed?”

“Yes, obviously. You’re so dumb.” There’s so much fondness in Katya’s voice and she cradles Trixie’s cheek in her palm, touches her thumb to the corner of Trixie’s mouth. “What kind of crazy bitch do you think I am? You think I’d say no?”

Trixie turns her head into Katya’s touch and captures her thumb between her teeth, draws it into her mouth. She touches her tongue to Katya’s fingerprint and then sucks until Katya grunts and her hips rock shallowly against nothing.

“You’re a slut,” Trixie says around Katya’s thumb. She bites down hard until Katya whines and takes her hand back. “You’re a whore.”

They both know that that isn’t exactly true. It’s Trixie who so often finds herself disoriented with longing, waking up in the middle of the night and reaching for Katya across the sheets. She feels cleaved in two so that she can’t focus on anything other than the hot centre of her spilling out, her hands clumsy and fumbling as she tries to keep the most raw parts of herself inside.

Katya is gracious enough not to mention it. Things are different in the daylight, less urgent, and when Trixie wakes up to the alarm clock’s insistent blaring Katya wordlessly hands her a mug of coffee. She drinks half of it down before she feels ready to speak. It’s still dark outside. Katya has left the light on in the hallway and the door ajar rather than turn on any of the lamps in the bedroom. It feels careful, something gentle she’s doing to ease Trixie into the morning. Katya has probably been up for at least an hour already.

By the time they’re dressed Trixie is feeling a little more with it. She teases Katya about the purple-red bloom right below her jaw, captures her with her fingers hooked in her belt loops so she can draw her in close and kiss her slowly. Katya sometimes lets Trixie drop her off at the store on her way home in the mornings. It’s so early that Trixie isn’t expecting it today, so when Katya starts pulling her boots on it stops her where she stands.

“You catering to the morning crowd of ghouls and vampires now?”

“Huh?” Katya almost loses her balance and Trixie offers her elbow, catches her before she can go to the ground. “Oh. No. I’m not gonna open. Snow day. I want to come with you. I want to see my ladies.”

Warmth blooms outwards from the centre of Trixie’s chest and she rolls her eyes to hide it. “Okay, I get it, you only spend time with me so you can hang out with the animals. I’m bottom of the list. That’s fine.”

“Well you are a bottom, honey, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Trixie shrieks, louder than is necessary or comfortable while the sun is still a pink haze at the edge of the world. It makes Dolly bark, just once, and her claws skitter against Katya’s hardwood as she darts rapidly between the two of them.

“I like you more than I like the goats,” Katya offers. She’s grinning, and she captures Trixie’s hand in hers and brings it to her mouth so she can kiss each of her knuckles individually.

Trixie lets her, made useless by the careful way Katya touches her and the wet heat of the tip of her tongue just darting out. When she turns Trixie’s hand over and grazes her teeth against the lines in her palm Trixie hums a tiny noise. Katya has a tattoo on her thigh of a hand with long dark nails and a flame cradled in the palm, which Trixie had been delighted to discover.

“Stop making out with my hand, you freak.”

Katya bites the meat at the base of her thumb for that, but she does let her go. Dolly sits between the two of them in the cab of the truck with most of her body in Katya’s lap, and she strokes the dog’s silky head for the whole drive. She doesn’t have to circle the truck for her superstitious ritual anymore, and Trixie isn’t sure whether that’s because she’s getting more comfortable with being in the car or because it’s so uncomfortably cold that she can’t bear it.

When they get to Trixie’s house Katya is out of the truck and heading for the coop before Trixie has even killed the engine. She sits in the car for a little longer to watch Katya, who has opened the door to let the chickens come clattering out and is on her knees in the snow to commune with them. She is so cute that Trixie has to knead two fingers against her sternum to quiet her silly, tender heart. The goats are bleating indignantly from the cowshed so Trixie goes to them first to let them out. Inside, she boils water on the stovetop to defrost the ice in the water trough and she stands at the sink to watch Katya from the kitchen window. She’s got two chickens on her thighs and a third on her shoulder, Faith, who is sticking her beak directly into Katya’s ear.

Trixie gives her as much time with the girls as she can before she has to come and collect their plastic drinker so she can clear the ice out of it. Katya gets up with Faith cradled in both arms now and the chicken lays her head against Katya’s chest and chirrups contentedly.

“Can I have a kiss?” Trixie says, unable to stop the whine from creeping into her voice. She has the handle of the feeder dangling from two gloved fingers and with her free hand she reaches for Katya’s elbow to try and pull her in. “Please. Please?”

“I’m very busy with my favourite girl right now, mama. You gotta wait your turn.”

Katya’s doing it on purpose, because she thinks it’s hilarious that Trixie gets so jealous. She’s told her that, when Trixie has been unable to shake her petulance, and she’s kissed the pout right off her mouth. It’s childish to need all of Katya’s attention all of the time, but Trixie can’t help herself. When she has it, when Katya’s red mouth cracks open on a wide grin at her dumb jokes and when she insists on always touching some part of Trixie, it makes her feel woozy with affection.

Trixie calls time when they both start shivering and drags Katya into the house with her by the elbow. Dolly is already inside, curled up into a tight, glossy knot on the couch and snoring loudly. Katya’s pants are soaked from the knees down with snow and Trixie sends her upstairs to find something to change into. While Katya’s gone, she starts pulling ingredients for pancakes.

They don’t get mornings together very often, because Katya has to open the store. Trixie wants to make the most of it, wants to romance Katya before the rest of the world is awake. She comes back down wearing an old pair of Trixie’s sweats that are so huge on her she’s had to roll the waistband over twice. They make her look tiny, and Trixie wraps both arms around her shoulders and just holds her until she gets impatient and squirms to be released.

It’s like having a small child in the kitchen with her. Katya keeps pilfering ingredients while Trixie’s trying to make up the pancake batter, and she darts these little glances at Trixie from the corner of her eye and looks so pleased with herself that Trixie can’t bear to do anything other than let her. She always adds salt to her batter to help reduce the bitterness of the dark chocolate, and she spills a little on the counter because Katya is singing Russian pop, at the top of her lungs and completely off-key, and she’s laughing more than she’s focusing. Before Trixie even gets a chance to sweep the salt away Katya snatches it up and tosses it behind herself over her left shoulder.

“Katya!”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s a dumb superstition.”

Trixie sighs and presses the heel of her palm to her forehead for a second. “It’s not- I know that. That’s whatever. But it goes somewhere. You can’t just throw it all over the floor.”

Katya sweeps the salt from the floor, and does the whole kitchen while she’s at it. When she’s done she comes to stand behind Trixie and wraps her arms around her waist, lays her cheek to Trixie’s shoulder blade. Trixie covers Katya’s hands in her own, clasped at her stomach, and knots their fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” Katya says again. Her voice is very small, and Trixie feels the press of Katya’s nose into her back like she’s hiding her face.

She turns in the circle of Katya’s arms and brushes her bangs back out of her eyes, arranges her hair against her shoulders. It’s rare that Trixie can just hold her, because Katya is spilling over with energy all the time and she’s not very good at stillness. She cherishes every opportunity, because she knows that it takes Katya real effort to be here in Trixie’s arms.

“Don’t be. I find your superstitions very charming.” Trixie kisses the corner of her mouth and lets herself linger, because Katya smells like the cold morning and like herself, underneath. “And I know you were there at the dawn of civilisation when most of them were created, so I can’t hold it against you.”

Katya shrieks a laugh at that. She tips her head back with it and balls her hands into fists, rests them at Trixie’s shoulders. “Respect your elders, you awful little brat. You villain.”

“Hey.” Trixie touches her thumb to the spot just below Katya’s jaw. “Your hickey’s gone.”

“I’m a fast healer.”

That does seem to be true, in the time that Trixie has known her at least. Last week she nicked herself while she was helping Trixie chop vegetables. Trixie left her holding her finger beneath the stream of cold water from the faucet, and by the time she got back with a box of Band-Aids Katya wasn’t bleeding anymore and she had a faint red line on the side of her finger.

“I guess I’m just gonna have to give you another one then, huh?”

Katya makes a disgusted noise and scrunches her face up. She seems to have hit her limit and she wriggles out of Trixie’s arms and hops up to sit on the countertop instead. She shunts over a couple of inches when Trixie shoves on her thigh and starts drumming her heels against the cabinet door below. Her bangs are annoying her again, she keeps blowing them out of her eyes and Trixie will have to trim them for her later. Katya’s hair grows faster than anybody Trixie has ever known, and she is absurdly jealous over it.

Somehow, in spite of all the distraction, she’s done with the pancake batter. Trixie has a heart shaped mould that she sets in place on the griddle and she pours some of the batter into it. It’s disgustingly saccharine — Bob bought it for her as a Valentine’s gift because she rejected all forms of sincerity — and she hasn’t ever used it before. Katya makes her want to be gentle, even though she knows she’s going to be teased for it.

“Oh my God, this is so gross. Trixie, do you like me?”

Katya is looking at the pancake just beginning to brown rather than at her, but she’s smiling so wide that her whole face is creased up with it.

“No, I hate you. You’re so mean to me, all the time.”

Her pouting works. Katya spreads her knees and hooks her feet around Trixie’s hips, tugs on her so that she moves between Katya’s thighs. It’s peculiar to have Katya looking down at her but she’s kissing her before Trixie can think too much about it, one hand in her hair to angle her head just where she wants her.

She lets Katya kiss her until the pancake starts smoking and they break apart. Trixie plates it anyway, gives it to Katya with the jar of homemade apple butter from the refrigerator.

“It’s burned,” Katya pouts. “That’s a bad omen, Trixie.”

“If you don’t want it that’s fine, I’ll eat it.”

“No!” Katya yelps, and clutches her plate protectively against her stomach like she thinks Trixie’s going to take it right out of her hands. “You made it for me. I’m eating it.”

She sticks her finger into the jar of apple butter and holds it out for Trixie. It’s disgusting, because a lot of the things Katya finds acceptable are really not at all, but she parts her lips and licks Katya’s finger clean anyway.

The smell of pancakes lured Dolly into the kitchen and she’s lying on the linoleum and whining low in her throat, staring at Katya. She hops down from the countertop and goes right to the floor, kneeling in front of the dog and letting her lick apple butter from the same finger Trixie just had in her own mouth.

A little shiver of revulsion goes through her just watching that. It does mean that she can focus on her cooking, and she manages a stack of perfect pancakes before Katya comes back to bother her again.

[dothewrite]

Scenario for akaashi and makki with a sarcastic s.o who likes to bicker with them about literally anything and it kinda gets on their nerves but its also extremely endearing? Thanks!!

I fully believe that Akaashi is fully capable of channeling a little shit whenever he wants to. Which is quite often, imho. Hope you like!

It’s a quiet day outside in theheady heat of mid-summer and the sun is muted graciously by the shroud of greyforms lounging above the mountain caps; the ground so warm from the morningsunshine that the raindrops almost hiss as they hit the concrete, one waveafter another.

They’re the only ones still outside.In a stroke of luck, the café they had discovered the day before yesterday hadremained open despite the warnings on the news channel the night before and thecorroborating showers, but most of the chairs for outside seating have beentucked away underneath massive square-shaped umbrellas to preserve the delicatewood from soaking through.

Akaashi can feel the baffled, andoccasionally disgruntled, gazes lingering on the back of his head from the wise,sensible patrons who had opted to sit indoors in such weather. It’s a grumpy,good-natured sort of gaze, gazes from people who can’t really be bothered to beparticularly critical when there’s warm coffee tucked between their palms, afresh set of newspapers sprawled over the narrow tables, and a comforting humof steady rain against the tinted glass on an early afternoon.

He can taste the rainwater that’ssplashed into his own cup of black coffee, but it’s too bland of a taste forhim to consider buying another one and brave the grouchy looking owner who keptthe store. He takes a quick sip, and with a hand that brushes away the moistbangs that plaster to his forehead, he watches her lean forwards on the slattedtable, a yearning on her face almost as if to leap out into the dense showerand become one with the storm.

He keeps his phone tucked carefullyunderneath his jacket to keep it safe from stray droplets and lounges backagainst his stiff backrest, the scent of damp pine rubbing its tendrils into hisback.

“If you stick your head out somemore,” he cautions before taking another deep sip, “you’re going to look veryinteresting with only your face wet.”

He can see her shoulders shake oncewith a possibly befuddled laugh before she shrugs them.

“The dewy look might be in vogue.Think I’d look more interesting than you?”

He flicks his thumb up to move ontothe next BBC article. “Hard to say. I can be a very interesting man.”

She cranes her neck to give him aglance-over: a navy shirt, just like the one yesterday, and oh! Happycoincidence! The same one as the day before that too. His pants have changed,she’ll concede. Sometimes. On days when she hides the rest. His watch, the sameone he’d been wearing for the past four years—it being a graduation present isnot a viable excuse for lack of fashion—matched the small coloured twine aroundhis other wrist. She’d forgive that one though, considering she’d given it tohim as a matching anniversary present when they were young enough to rely onallowances for gifts. He hadn’t taken that one off either, ever. Not even forshowers, white-water rafting, nor torrential rainy days.

“Mhmm.”

They share a serene moment ofsilence before Akaashi puts away his phone and sighs, heavily, from the bottomof his old, weary heart. “I can hear you holding your breath all the way overhere. Go on, say it. What’s wrong with my outfit today?”

She shrugs again, this time muchmore dramatically. Empires could rise and fall on those bony little shoulderswith a drama that even Caesar would envy. “Nothing.”

“Is that so,” Akaashi says dryly. “Doesthat mean I can wear this again tomorrow without hearing another word fromyou?”

“It really depends on what sort ofwords,” she grins, and vaults a leg above the other to twist around just theright amount for Akaashi to catch her sharp profile against the drizzlingbackground. “If you’re filing a complaint, I can always replace those tricksywords with other ones you might find even less appropriate.”

“Yeah. And what exactly is wrongwith my shirt again?”

“Nothing,”she repeats emphatically, “if you’re on a tight budget and brought a single shirt on holiday with you toEurope.”

“I see. So, if it’s anywhere butEurope—”

“Then you can wear that same shirtall week at home with the exception of Sundays when you have practice?”

“Possibly.”

“Ah yes,” she says, throwing herhands up in exasperation. He’ll give it another few minutes before they startdrawing frenzied little diagrams in the air with her finger as a wand. “Let thescent of your armpits saturate into the corners of your shirt, and may itattract some unwitting females during mating season.”

Akaashi doesn’t give in to the urgeto lift his arm to double check his armpit. He is a much better man than that,and an even better one when he shouldn’t be. He leans back and settles down withthe comfortable knowledge that he’s washed this shirt quite thoroughly, and hisgo-to deodorant hasn’t failed him yet if she’s still willing to endure hispresence.

“You like how I smell,” he mentionswith a small smile, “but if you insist, I can always buy several more likethis. To reduce my, ah, scent.”

He is an expert indeed in keeping astraight face after many, many years of practice with exasperating fellowsaround him, and he lets it rest on his face with ease when she squints at him,brows stretching between a raise and a furrow, and her blunt fingernails diginto the armrests to keep her uncomfortable twist in place.

It does make her look rather poised,with crossed legs and a carefully positioned arch to her back. Akaashi keepshis eyes politely on her face, but his peripheral vision goes off, as they say,and swallows every inch that he can. He wonders if it’s part of why she oftenchooses to be so prickly about everything, even in good humour; if he took thatmuch care to look half as good when indignant about something, he’d probablyinstigate a lot more rows too.

For now, he thought, bringing hiscup to his lips, he was content with simply admiring.

“You’re insufferable,” she says,rolling her eyes.

Akaashi pretends to be stung. “Me?Do I smell that much?”

She grumbles something under herbreath, but she’s not quite taken her eyes off him just yet. He watchespatiently as she comes up with a different approach to the problem. After all,they have all afternoon, as long as they’re willing to shell out a few morecups of coffee.

“I smell fine, don’t I?” Akaashiprods. She really brings out the worst in him, and deep down he finds itendlessly entertaining. “Unless you want me to wear more cologne? Should Ichange my shampoo?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s great,” he says, turninghis phone back on with his worst attempt at sounding enthused to date.

“It’s just…” she adds, and he hearsher chair grate against the coarse ground as she tugs it closer to him. “It’s always blue. And always a shirt. I know you wash your clothes, but youcan’t possibly expect that from anyone else.”

“Navy is a nice colour. What’s wrongwith blue?”

“It reminds me of the thing with thefriends on American television, but every day, all day.”

“Foster’s home for imaginaryfriends? He’s sky-blue.”

And muchless fit,he thinks, but he is a humble man, not prone to lapses in judgement, so thatcomment stays obediently in the back of his mind as he swirls the last dregs ofhis coffee around, watching the course grounds dance in a storm. The poker faceremains where it is, performing its role perfectly and any tells stay strictlyaround his lips in an unwilling upturn.

She’s far too busy rummaging aroundher mind for more analogies to properly notice, anyhow.

“Pictures,” she says triumphantlyafter a minute or two. Akaashi looks up from his sports news and gives this newattempt of hers another go. “Maybe I might be mistaken if you’re aiming for thetime-traveller look, but you’d look exactly the same in all the pictures wetake. New landmark? Same shirt. New city? Same shirt. New girlfriend? Sameshirt.”

“New girlfriend?” He repeats with aneyebrow raised. She meets his look defiantly, her angled chin daring him to firesomething back. “I wasn’t informed that I was in the market for a replacement.”

“Well perhaps you should read thebook, then.”

“Have you?” He asks incredulously.“Have you really finally gotten around to it?”

There’s definitely a small twitch toher mouth as her eyes narrow, twinkling a bit at the corner. “Wikipedia is thenew SparkNotes. My point still stands, time-traveller.”

Akaashi thinks about it for a while,tapping his fingers against his chin. “It’s not such a bad concept, really.”

“Your mum would be disappointed withthose photos. You know it.”

“But you’re so very good at makingme look attractive.” He rolls his eyes ever so slightly. Not enough to get himinto trouble, but enough so that it’ll stop pushing at his eyelids for freedom.“Or is it all just me? Or maybe, is it alljust this shirt?”

“Okay, let’s test that.” she thrustsher arm out at him and beckons imperiously with two fingers. Her eyes flash asif daring him to do otherwise. “Hand over that shirt, I’ll try it on Tetsu thenext time I see him.”

“As if he needs any help.” Akaashidoes a full-on roll with his eyes this time, with a smidgen less amusement. Hedoesn’t want to think about it—as much as he loves his irritating as all hellfriend—least of all in his own shirt, stolen unrightfully, and with her all over Kuroo. Alright, maybe shemight not be, but the imagery is very much unappreciated all the same.

He swallows the rest of his cooledand watery coffee in a single gulp and rests it on the damp table with morefocus than intended.

“Just my shirt? Does nothing elsebother you more than my fashion this morning?”

She gazes at him with an inscrutableexpression whilst Akaashi refuses to avoid her eyes, unyielding as hechallenges her in silence for something else to nag about, another tiny littleproblem that seems almost impossibly insignificant underneath the madness thatis drinking hot coffee on an equally hot and equally soggy noon. A slightbreeze, however, has begun to blow somewhere between their bickering, grazingalong the soft weeds that frame the banks of the Danube they face, and the rainhas quietened into a gentler morning shower. It would be walkable, albeit onlytowards their temporary home considering they’d be soaked to the boneafterwards, and Akaashi almost considers asking her. Almost.

He waits to see if she’s gotanything more to say that’s smart, snappy, and altogether exhausting onoccasions.

She’s still staring at him with aspectrum of emotions flickering in her eyes when she speaks again, words tingedwith a beleaguered sigh.

“If I think about it, then maybe thiscoffee. It doesn’t taste so good with rain. There’s this weird salty taste toit, but salt doesn’t evaporate, so it’s possibly entirely in my head.”

“A lot of things might entirely bein your head,” Akaashi replies, and he takes the side eye she shoots him withcomposure and grace. “Like how I’ve only got one shirt, ever.”

“You wore it yesterday. And the daybefore.”

“The washing machine is broken,love,” he reminds her patiently. “Our host hasn’t responded to me yet.”

“Alright, maybe not navy, but they’reall shirts,” she insists. She twirlsher empty cup around her fingers, seemingly unaware of how precariously it sitson her fingertips, and Akaashi can’t quite recall when she’d managed to finishit earlier than he. “I’m not saying you’re a boring person—” she shoots him alook heavy with meaning, “—but dressing to reflect that wouldn’t be a bad idea.On the contrary, in fact.”

They had been brainstorming in therain for activities they could head for to replace their outdoorsy excursion toseveral palaces that day, but Akaashi thinks he’s got the right idea in mind.Never say that he’s an inattentive, inconsiderate partner. A shade petty whenpiqued, perhaps, but that all pales in the various hues of sarcasm she paintswith when unoccupied.

Still, there is the way her nosescrunches up when she frowns, and the brisk way she rests her weight on herarms that has her stretched out into fine lines and soft edges that Akaashikeeps safely to himself whenever he watches her as inconspicuously as he canmanage. It just about makes it worth it, he wagers, tossing his new idea back andforth in his mind, to listen to her furrow her brows verbally again.

“Thrilling, you say.” He murmurs. Hereyes follow with suspicion as he slides his phone into his jacket pocket, zippingit up all the way for protection. “Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to getme to take off my clothes?”

“Not in public,” she says calmly,but the twinkle in her eye has returned, and a reluctant smile eked out of her.“Honestly, as if I’d share.”

His cheeks, despite their longfamiliarity, still flare up against his will and Akaashi tries his best to coolit down with a hand as discreetly as possible. Her smile only deepens, and hehas to clear his throat to prevent his poker face from cracking.

He pushes back on his chair andstands up, abandoning his seat to the elements. When she doesn’t follow, heleans in with a brow elegantly raised and a teasing smile tickling the edges ofhis lips.

“Let’s go home.”

She looks at him as if he’s gone offhis rocker. “The weather,” she says slowly, pointing up at the grey skies, “wedidn’t bring an umbrella.”

Akaashi shrugs a shoulder. “That’sthe point.”

“You’llget sick.”

“Not if we run,” he begins to counton his fingers, “not if we take a shower, not if we turn on the heating, andnot if I make you a cup of hot chocolate after.”

Her eyes are almost sparkling, andAkaashi finds it a hopeless battle against falling right into them. “So, you’vehad the time to come up with this whilst listening to me all this time?”

“I can be a very interesting man,”he repeats sagely, and easily dodges the smack she aims at his arm. “Trust me.”He offers a hand to her, palm up, and a soft smile awaiting her answer.

Multitudes dance along the edge ofher lips, and Akaashi watches every single one as they drizzle past the precipicesof her cheeks and along the faint laugh lines blooming from her eyes. He doesn’tmind for as long as his arm doesn’t ache, and he could stand underneath a beigecafé umbrella with the splashes of rain drenching their trouser hems for amonth if it meant that she would be able to turn that diamond edged glint towardshim and place her palm in his.

She does, after a small shake of herhead, and it takes only a minute or two. He laces her fingers together,slightly clammy from the wet, and draws her up against him. He can feel herwarmth seep through his dreaded navy shirt, and when he tugs her closer, herhair frizzy from the weather tickles where he’s left the last two buttonsundone.

“You wanted thrilling, remember?” Hebreathes lowly into her hair, and without another warning, he jerks the both ofthem out into the pouring rain. She lets out a startled yelp, but Akaashibarely flinches as he turns towards the street and pulls her along with him ina steady jog.

He swears he’s about two timesslower than his usual morning jogs, taking her lack of exercise into account,but he’s still surprised when halfway there she begins to drag his arm back, clothesand hair utterly soaked and sluiced against her face with breathing as ifsomeone had punched her in the gut.

Akaashi pauses, feeling the rain nowconcentrating on his shoulders, and leans against the railing along the riverbank.

“Need a rest?”

“You—” she gestures vaguely in hisdirection, “—yes. Stop—looking so—”

“Composed?” He offers calmly. “Healthy?Not dangerously unfit?”

“Thankyou, Keiji. We all know how you feel about my cardio.”

“Non-existent?”

Finally catching her breath, shegives him a good glare. “Yes. That.”

Feeling slightly in better humour, Akaashilets his free arm fall and reaches out for hers. “I didn’t want you to get sick,but you love the rain.”

“What I said at the start,” she beginswith a snort, but seeing his confidence slowly melt into a thin layer ofconcern, she leans into him, ignoring his jolt of surprise. “It’s too late now,so let’s not worry about it. I brought medicine.”

“So did I.”

“Well, then.” She’s a good footshorter than him, but with a good firm tug, Akaashi allows himself to be pulleddown enough for a warm kiss on his cheek. “Let’s do a power walk back instead.”

The image popping unbidden into hishead makes him bark out a startled laugh, and he lets his smile stretch out aswidely as hers does, all trembling and chilly and feeling his toes curl fromthe warmth that seems to pulsate from where their hands are joined.

When she throws her head back to whipher hair back from her eyes, there’s a moment where steals his breath away; hisbeautiful little storm witch. She lets her head fall forwards again and thatmoment passes, the only thing that lingers is an absent beat in his veins and aturbulent grin that reaches her eyes.

“I could piggyback you, you know,”Akaashi says when they resume at a brisk stroll, both completely drenched andhis shirt pulling at his skin with each stretch. “I’d probably still be able torun faster than you with your feet.”

She sniffs. “I’m declining that onprinciple, you ass.”

Confident that nobody else will be ableto spot him in the midst of the downpour, Akaashi laughs as quietly as he can,and lets the smile stretch as wide as it wants all the way back.

He did have something else plannedfor the rest of the day; he wasn’t lying by any means. It just so happened thatit would come later at night, when the rain would die down, ready for astreet-lit shopping venture for the very thing that she sniped so much about.

That is, he’d tell her, after they’dtaken a shower, turned on the heating, and each with a mug of hot cocoa intheir hands.

Neither of them was in a particularhurry to do any of those things when their door finally closed behind them.Akaashi had slotted her against the back of it immediately, letting his fingerstrail their way slowly up the rises and dips of her sides. Their lights wereforgotten, the only sound in the apartment a cacophony of the storm outside,their dripping hair and heavy breaths ghosting against each other’s mouths. He leanedin, languidly tasting the rain along her skin.

Despite her unfocused gaze and breathhot against the crook of his neck, she managed a warm laugh, and reached outwith determined fingers to remove that dreaded navy shirt.

[unrequitedmime]

I run into a hard chest. "Watch it," I snap, stumbling back as I steady the scrolls I hold. "Sorry," The voice is deep and rough. And clearly unapologetic. I glance up and straighten, ready to start a squabble with this arrogant male, and find a startlingly bright pair of green eyes watching me. The gaze is not a hungry one, but it is indeed heavy as it surveys my body, my existence. For a moment, I am taken aback by the intensity of his expression. Shining skin on a beautiful frowning face. Sharp edges and molten gold softness all at once. He is perhaps only a few years older than me, but he holds an air of superiority and knowledge. As if he has seen things people our age do not see in their entire lifetime. A clearly dominant man, with his graceful posture and the entirety of his bulking body. And then his face melts into a grin, and all intensity is gone. "My name is Damion Hander," He nods a greeting, as if bumping into each other consequences an introduction. "I don't care," I move to side step him, but he moves with me. I glance irritably up at him as he blocks my path and grit my teeth. "Can I help you, Mr Damion Hander?" He watches me carefully before speaking, his finger poking the scrolls in my hand, "I was just wondering what these are, Miss...?" I do not give him my name. Only look down at the scrolls, "These," I announce, "Are none of your business." I move to side step. He moves with me. "What do you want, truly?" I snap, done with this little game. He grins again, almost as if he cannot help but find my temper amusing. Seeing a grown man with such a dominant essence grin like a school boy is disorientating, and I have to blink to clear my head. "I want to know your name," He says. Honest. Open. "If I tell you my name will you let me pass?" He shrugs casually, winking, "You'll have to find out, won't you?" I clench my jaw before heaving a small sigh, "Lila." Something washes over his face for one single moment. An emotion that I cannot decipher. Shock or surprise or awe. And then it is gone, and his eyes clear from that strange soft state. "A lovely name for a lovely lady," He almost purrs his words, and I do not fight my snort. I move to pass. He moves into my way. I glare before stepping again, not in the mood. He steps even closer, staring down. I do not move away this time. I felt the shift in his energy; playful to stern. I have a sinking feeling that if I step away one more time he might very well grab my wrist and yank me back. I blink up at him, and he is so tall and large that he blocks the sunlight from hitting my face. He glances around us, studying the lush gardens of the academic court. He seems to watch children play in the distance, and a soft smile twitches at his lips. "Mr Hander," I say very slowly, careful. He catches the wariness in my tone and glances down at me with raised eyebrows. Surprised and impressed that I caught onto the shift in his mood. "Is there anything else I can help you with before I go?" He chuckles, a low and breathy sound, "Miss Lilanna Greevery," He addresses me, and my stomach drops. How he knows my full name, I do not know. But something like fear begins to coil in my gut. "I would like you to help me verify a few facts. First, where were you born?Second, were you an orphan? And third, when did you come to this nation?" Words fail me for one moment. Who is this man? Someone who knows my full name, despite the fact that I have not uttered it to one living person in this country. Dread sits heavy within me.  "I-" I gulp, deciding whether to lie or tell the truth. It is likely he already knows the truth. "Don't lie," He whispers a mocking warning. I have no trouble catching the danger in his smile. I steel myself, "I was born in Hale, was taken in by an adoptive mother at the age of three, and move to Ponda three weeks ago." I gulp, "Who is asking?" He studies me for a long, endless moment. I do not back down from his stare. "You have very interesting eyes," He whispers to himself, "Not Idal bright, but they aren't dull like Ponda's." I blink, "I beg your pardon?" He clicks something into my neck; so fast and swift that I doubt anyone saw him move. My hand slaps to the tender skin there, and I gape at him as my entire world starts to swim in blurry colours. I begin to lose feeling in my body, and I can feel the flow of unconsciousness idly drifting closer. The drug he injected into me stops me from screaming, or fighting, or even panicking. I can only stare at him as my body slowly loses control, and rest my head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around my waist to hold me up. He does not look down at me. Only checks his watch. "What-" I try to scream the words, but they come out as a murmured whisper. He meets my gaze, and assumes I am asking him about his earlier mumbles. "Your eyes," He clarifies, "They should be normal. But they're brighter, somehow. They shine." Everything goes black. ------------------------------------------------ I wake from my deep slumber with a small gasp. My chest heaves, and my skin is coated in a layer of sweat and grime. Beside my bed sits Rafeal. I flinch when I catch sight of his chestnut waves. When his eyes meet mine, I scowl instinctively, drawing the blanket up around my almost bare chest. Under the thin sheets, I wear nothing but a bra and pants. I could not handle the layers upon my skin. "Rafeal," I almost growl in my daze, "What are you doing in my tent?" He shrugs, his expression still slightly hazy as he finds his way out of my head. "Making sure you dreamt." "Why?" "General Hander's orders." I roll my eyes, slumping back onto my damp pillows. I let go of my blanket when I realise no one is in the tent but Raf and I. I know he does not care for my body. "You gave me that dream?" I croak, rubbing my eyes. "Not really," He shrugs again, eyes on some distant point in the tent, "You already had it in your memories. I just found it buried deep and let it swim to the surface." Silence. I should get dressed and help the medics again. But this is the first time I have slept well in four days. I remain where I am, listening to the noises of the camp around us. "Why that one?" I ask finally. Rafeal is an interesting boy. My age. An Idal of dreams and memories, and a mind that is never in the moment. "Because you were thinking of General Hander," He shrugs. Again. "So I delivered your first ever memory of him." I am quiet. Fair enough. "Why were you?" He asks finally. I frown, "What?" "Why were you thinking of General Hander?" "Because he sent me to sleep, and I was mad at him," I admit reluctantly. Rafeal laughs. A sound I have only ever heard once or twice in the months that I have known him. I savour the music of his amusement. "You're always mad at him." "He truly is an insufferable man," I admit yet again, hoping to coax another chuckle. Nothing. Blank face again. I fight the urge to sigh and roll off the bed. Rafeal does not even glance over at me as I stand in my undergarments. A black pair of panties and a black bra. I put my hands on my hips as I watch him watch nothing. "How are you going?" I ask gently. I know I have a soft spot for Rafeal and his lost mind. Jeremy teases me endlessly for it. "Hmm?" "These past few days," I explain, "How have you been?" "Oh, good." Quiet. I do not move. Do not even feel slightly exposed in front of this man. "What have you been doing?" Another gentle tone. I try to scold myself for being so soft. I am not soft. You do not survive this war by being soft. "Chief Pron has had me staying in the soldier's tents. Ensuring no nightmares leave them gasping for breath." He meets my gaze finally, and does not even notice that I am barely dressed. "He says that after battle the night terrors haunt them for weeks." My heart goes out to all of those soldiers. They have seen more blood and death than any man should see. I nod to Rafeal in agreement, and he turns back to watch the far wall of the tent. I open my mouth to speak, to say something to distract him from his  nothing, but the usually locked flaps to my tent whip open as someone enters. Before I can dive for the sheet, Damion is striding into my tent as if he owns it. "Rafeal," He calls, "It is almost starfall. Chief Pron requests you-" His words sputter into nothing as he glances up and catches sight of me. In nothing but my panties and bra. My entire body flushes with heat, but I refuse to cover myself now like an embarrassed little girl. He raises his eyebrows, studying my nearly naked body and Rafeal's presence. I watch him connect the dots and come to a conclusion. Shit. "Chief Pron," Damion repeats, "Requests your presence in the main bunks." Rafeal nods once before slipping wordlessly from my tent. Damion watches him go before turning to face me. His skin has found it's usual tanned shine, but his hair is still a dishevelled mess. I refuse to look away or hide. I clear my throat as his eyes trail down my body, noting the slim curves and muscles that have developed over the months of training. "How long have I been asleep for?" He meets my eyes, "I don't know, Lila. How long were you asleep for?" I catch the hidden question in his words, and this time I cannot fight the blush that blooms. He watches the rosy red flush through my cheeks. "I was not sleeping with him," I snap, "You are the one that sent him in here to monitor me like some prisoner!" He does nothing but raise an eyebrow, unimpressed, "I sent him in here to ensure you got rest. If I'd known you were sleeping in this attire, though, I would have done the job myself." I roll my eyes and stride for the hooks that hold my clothes, ignoring his usual flirting. He knows I hate the comments. I know that's why he makes them. "You're a pig," I scoff as I pull the leathers on. He shrugs and turns to leave, unoffended and uninterested in the conversation, "I try my best. Once you're dressed, find Jeremy and assemble in my tent." I raise an eyebrow, intrigued, "Why?" He doesn't answer before disappearing from view. I huff. At least I know Damion is back to normal. --------------------------------- "What's up, champ?" Jeremy greets as he enters Damion's tent in front of me. I try not to roll my eyes at the sudden easiness in Jeremy's tone. Damion is two years older than Jeremy and I, but I swear Jeremy looks up to him like a father. Weird. I do not greet Damion as I follow Jeremy into the wide and bright tent. It is littered with bandages, weapons and war reports. Unsurprisingly. Damion is bent over the messy table in the middle, feverishly studying  a list of casualties. When he glances up, his face is a frown of stern control and seriousness. Sometimes I forget that this flirting and grinning male is the General Commander of Ponda's armies. I am so used to his winks and chuckles that I forget he is the second most influential Ponda in the nation. Today he is not Damion. He is General Hander. He straightens when we enter, stretching his back and wincing as his shoulder gives him strife. I freeze for a moment, monitoring the wound for blood before he waves away my worry. "You are both late," He announces. Jeremy shrugs as he throws himself onto the cushions in the far corner, "Lila decided it was a good idea to stop and check up on nearly every soldier we passed." I roll my eyes as I make my way over to the table. Damion glances at me in surprise. "You talked to soldiers?" I glare, "I hate you. Not them.'' He nods his grim approval, "Noted." "Why are we here?" Jeremy calls again. Damion's eyes flicker between me and Jeremy, his gaze so dark I almost cannot see the green. The hardness of his expression makes my spine pull tight, and I stand to attention as I study his serious face. Behind me, I hear Jeremy rise from the cushion pile and make his way over. "What I am about to say it not to be repeated to anyone," He demands, voice unusually harsh, "Are we clear?" I gulp once. Jeremy nods beside me. Damion watches the two of us for a few more moments before letting out a breath, "We are sending you two on a mission." Silence. Shock. Jeremy and I have not been let out of Pron or Damion's sight for months. "You two are the most powerful Idal's with a trusting connection to Ponda." I don't fight my snort, and Damion sends me a heated look. "Don't," He warns me, "You know you possess more power than anyone in this nation." "Doesn't make me powerful," I reply easily, "I cannot use a drop of it." "You healed me," He reminds, "That's a drop. I do not respond. "Both of you know that so far, we are winning this war with the Kinal's. But there have been whispers amongst the camp. Whispers that have been started by the returned prisoners of war," His expression shutters into darkness for a moment, "They say that they have witnessed a growing power in Kinal. They lack the words to describe it, and when they are pressed for more information they simply break down, lost in their traumatic memories of their time in the enemy territory. But from the information we have retrieved," He gulps, "It is clear that Kinal is gathering and hiding a powerful sort of magic. The likes of one that can wipe out entire armies, apparently." The breath is knocked from my lungs in a slow exhale. Jeremy simply blinks in surprise. I gulp, "The people of Kinal do not possess magic," I counter, "How is that possible?" Damion sighs, running a hand over his face, "We don't know yet. We have sent our spies to investigate and find out, but it will take a month for them to gather enough to satisfy." Quiet. "What do you want us to do?" Jeremy asks finally, slightly confused. I am confused, too. I do not understand how Jeremy and I fit into this puzzle of plans. Damion watches us carefully, "We do not have that long to wait for information. By then, there may be another battle. One in which that hidden magic is used and our people are killed. We need more power; enough to rally the secret they will eventually reveal." He is quiet for a moment, "You two have been chosen to find that power." We both openly gape. "How?" Is all I say. "We have..." He struggles for a word, slowly becoming flustered, "We have heard other whispers. Words on the wind that speak of a power deep in the Idal territory." "And you want us to find it?" "I want you to find her," He corrects. "Her," Jeremy echoes before snapping to attention, "You want us to retrieve a girl in Idal that supposedly has enough power to shift this war in our favour? How could she possibly have enough power for something so extreme?" Damion meets my eyes and gulps, "She is like Lila." Oh. "She possesses all of the Idal abilities?" Jeremy's jaw drops, shocked that more than one person can hold so much power in their blood. "How is that... How is that possible? Something so rare cannot possibly happen in TWO bloodlines!" Damion does not take his eyes away from mine, "We don't think the power resides in two bloodlines," He says quietly. Oh. Oh, shit. Jeremy frowns, the understanding not having dawned on him yet. But it has dawned on me, and my mind races. "How do you know?" I croak, "Why do you guess?" He swallows, "We have heard more than whispers lately. Detailed descriptions. Age, appearance, power. We have enough evidence to assume." "Assume what?" Jeremy asks softly. None of us blame him for not understanding fast. He has spent the past three days interrogating our enemies, draining his power with his torture. He has hardly slept, and his mind is working slower than ours. "Assume that this mysterious girl and I share heritage," I fight back the lump in my throat. I hardly let myself consider the possibilities. Damion sighs, "Assume," He repeats, tired, "That this mysterious girl is Lila's sister." Sister. The word barrels through me quick and sharp, knocking every single one of my bones. I whip my head to stare into Damion's steady gaze. Sister. I had not considered that. "There's no way," I breathe, "No way that my parents had two children and abandoned each of us to different parts of the world." Damion does not look away from the emotions shining in my eyes, "It makes more sense to separate powerful children than keep them together," He says softly. He is right. He is always right. Oh, god. "Are you certain?" I force out through grit teeth, fighting the trembling in my body. I have lived my entire life an orphan. No family save for Matilda; the strong and brave woman that raised me. No memories of my seemingly loving parents, or any siblings. I had not even thought of siblings. Damion hesitates before nodding, "I do not know about the others, but I am." I release a slow and shaky breath. Damion is certain. That is all I need to know. "Okay," I nod slowly, indicating my belief of his words. Jeremy watches me carefully, something like an amused smile twitching at his lips. I remember his words yesterday, and mine. I clench my jaw and ignore Jeremy's searching gaze. I stare only at the General Commander. "When do we embark on this mission?" Jeremy asks finally, turning to Damion with a serious and determined expression. Damion runs a hand through his hair and releases a long sigh, "Pack your bags tonight. You leave at first light." -------------------------------------- I stare into the woods surrounding the camp as Jeremy talks to Pron behind me. It is so cold I can feel it in my bones, but the light shining through the trees is soft and warm. I do not say a word as soldiers pass across the border of camp, travelling on their own missions. Sister. Sister. Sister. Warm and callused fingers find my chin and lift my face up. I let Damion move my head and stare silently back at him. His green gaze searches my eyes closely, as it always does. I am reminded of the first time I met him, and his words whispered in my dream the night before last. He was fascinated by the shine of my eyes. I wonder if he still is. If every time he looks into them, he takes a moment to appreciate the colour of the light brown depths. "Two weeks," He reminds, voice hard and stern, "That is all you are gone for." I gulp, my chin still in his firm yet gentle grip, "What if we don't find her by then?" His eyes are a stone wall, "Then you come home." Home. Not the war camps. Him, and Pron, and Rafeal, and Sapphire. I guess they are my home now. I barely nod. He does not let go, and just keeps studying me. I watch him. A very strange man. Damion has trained me in combat for the past few months. He has also worked closely with Jeremy and Sapphire to summon and bring forth the powers that lay dormant within me. I spend the most time with him and Jeremy, and each of our lessons are long. I have argued with this man in front of me more times than I can even begin to count, and I do not remember the last time I was genuinely enjoying myself around him. Damion, despite his personas of control and power and youth and joy and cockiness, has a delicate way of rubbing me the wrong way. His words ignite sparks in me no matter how hard I try to fight my temper, and I think he is more used to my snarled voice than any other sort of tone I use. But sometimes, sometimes there are singular moments of calm between us. A deep and unending sort of calm that settles every thought in my mind and the restless buzzing under my skin. These powers that lay within me do not unleash themselves upon the world, but that does not mean they are silent. The powers make my skin tremble more hours of the day than I am awake. They swim and rumble and buzz just beneath the surface. Damion is the only one that can make it stop. And as we stand there in the cold of the dawn, with the sleepy sun shining through the trees and catching alight in his yet again messy hair, my body becomes quiet. The restlessness ceases. I refresh. "Stay safe," His voice is quiet, "Stay low, stay hidden. Be fast." I cannot help myself from asking, "Why?" He watches me for one more moment, as if memorising something before he steps back. His hand falls away from my skin, dropping almost uselessly to his side. "Because," I can tell he forces the grin to his face. He is worried for us. The General Commander of the Ponda armies, worried for two orphan Idal's. "I'm not sure how long I can last on just the memory of you in your undergarments," He croons, "I will need you back to refresh the image as soon as possible." I know he is joking, but I reach out and try to punch him anyway, "Pig." He catches my hand before I can make contact with his arm. Just as Jeremy and Pron turn to us. He holds my gaze for one moment before letting my fingers slip from his. I shiver. From the cold. "Ready?" Jeremy breathes, bouncing on his heels to fight the morning frost. My Jeremy is back; the one full of light and joy and movement. I do not know where the darkness has disappeared to. I tear my gaze away from the General Commander and his green eyes, "As ready as I can be," I sigh. "Let's go find your sister, then." And we set off. After twenty feet, as we reach the edge of the surrounding forest, I cannot help but halt and glance back. Damion and Pron remain on the edges of the war camp. The Chief Leader of a nation and the General Commander of Ponda's armies ignore their duties for a few brief moments to watch us disappear into the woods. Even from the distance, I can see the green of Damion's eyes. As I turn back around and disappear into the forest, I realise that the leaves above remind me of his deep gaze. I do not glance at the ground for the rest of the walk.

unrequited 

[okimargarvez]

HE’S NOT KEVIN

Original title: Lui non è Kevin.

Prompt: jealousy, Derek’s return.

Warnings: mention of Hotch’s death; the spoilers seemed to be CBS’s intention and not to put him in the witness protection program.

Genre: romantic, comedy, friendship.

Characters: Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, (Emily Prentiss).

Pairing: Garvez (Morcia).

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 💑😘👓👻⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

HE’S NOT KEVIN  

Coming back after two years of absence is a strange experience.

On the one hand it's as if he had never left those rooms. It seems to him that until the day before he was making fun of the kid or arguing with Rossi about a baseball game.

But twenty-four months or so have passed since the last time his feet have been stepped on the floor of the BAU, since his finger pressed on that button in the elevator.

He knows perfectly that many things have changed. The main one concerns the death of Hotch. He had gone to the funeral, a sad occasion to review what he considered as a second family for a long time. Everyone was there, including Emily and her partner, JJ along with Will and their children, Spencer next to Tara, Rossi alone and Garcia holding the hands of no so little anymore Jack. But still too young to have to face the death of a parent again. And next to the blonde computer analyst was a man who he had never seen, probably the one who had taken his place. Even Beth had attended the ceremony, almost keeping herself aloof, as if she didn't feel entitled to participate in the group's pain. But Derek had noticed the tears running down her face without much effort.

The second change is connected directly to the first one. Prentiss took Hotch's place as chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Mourning was needed to bring them together. Perhaps for the same reason Tara has decided to stay at least for another year.

But of the other real change, he has absolutely no idea.

Emily already knows of his return, he talked to her on the phone and managed to convince her not to say anything, to surprise others. She played along and informed him that they don't currently have any new cases, so they are all busy settling bureaucratic issues. Almost.

All the desks are occupied, except his, or rather, what had been his before. The first to recognize him is Spencer. His eyes go up and down for a few seconds, then exclaims: -Morgan?- and stands up, drawing the attention of those present. In a moment he is surrounded and submerged by questions.

It's JJ who asks about the true motivation that led him to come back. And to touch the sore subject.

-How are Savannah and Hank? - with her innocent tone and her classic way quieter. A moment of pause. But sooner or later he will have to say it. So it's better to do it right away, just pull the Band-Aid off.

-They are fine, Savannah ... they went to live in Chicago, close to her parents and my mother ... I see them on the weekends ...- he couldn't say more. But others have understood. Above all Emily, who knows more details.

-Oh, Derek, I'm sorry ... I thought you two were ... the perfect couple ...- JJ is always expressing everyone's thoughts. The absence of Garcia is noticeable. However, if she did not work here anymore, Prentiss would have told him. Instead, the brunette just warned him that not everything remained as him remember. But she didn't want to add more. You'll see it with your eyes.

As much as he loves each member of the team, he needs to see her. She is partly responsible for his choice to return, just as she had been for leaving. He nods and heads for the Oracle room or Penelope bunker. A part of him trembles at the thought of finally being able to embrace her again.

He arrives on the threshold and stops, hearing voices. One belongs to Garcia, the other is masculine.

 -Stop, stop it! I give up, you won!- the woman giggles, trying to block the hands of him that is tickling her. But man is much stronger and doesn't hide it. In a moment she finds herself against the wall, unable to make any movement.

-I won?- he asks, pleased, a mischievous smile on his lips. The body is even more pressed on the generous forms of her partner. For a moment she can't pronounce a monosyllable, then strives to regain her mental faculties.

-We shouldn't ... do this while others are working seriously.- is a clumsy attempt, done only to have a clear conscience. And man knows it perfectly. For this he begins to play with the shoulder strap of her bra, to drop it to completely free the shoulder and then to lay a kiss on her naked skin, which shudders at the contact, testifying that he is doing a right thing. She has now completely abandoned herself to his mercy, tilting her head back and offering her neck accordingly, as during a sacrificial ceremony. The hands, roughened by months under cover, lived in the most cramped places, roam safely along the female body, following already known itineraries and tracing new routes.

She feels herself vibrating with every touch, an electric shock every time he touches her. She has never felt so much at the mercy of a man in her life. She had always had a strong personality, but as she had told her best friend, centuries before, she wanted immensely to find someone who could keep up with her, on all fronts. Which had the courage to say his own. And he is ... not only beautiful, they have a physical and sexual chemistry that is scary ... but also so mysteriously sweet, caring and absurdly, completely, fucking madly in love with her. When she is in his company, she is sure of being the only one who makes him feel (sometimes too clearly) the desire she feels towards him. Then he's funny, curious, witty. Smart, honest. And hot, so nice to make her swoon, every time then she lay eyes on his sculpted body, which isn't a factor of secondary importance.

But right over their heads, their colleagues are compiling files endlessly. -Luke ...- it comes out halfway between a moan and a sigh. -Luke, we can't. You have to go back upstairs, and I have to file all the cases of the last six months ... - she smiles to see the lips of the Latin bend in a disappointed grimace. She then approaches his ear and after giving a slight bite to his lobe, whispers: -We can pick this up tonight ...- she feels the thrill that runs along the spine of the man and passes directly to her.

-This time I'll give you that one, chica .- he smiles but before letting her go, he prints an intense kiss on her red lips, snatching a new moan of surprise and protests for the brevity of the contact.

They are still smiling and giggling, when Luke opens the door, risking crashing into Derek, who had not yet found the courage to knock.

A sudden frost falls in the room. Penelope not entirely consciously reaches the two men and then stands beside the Latin.

-Morgan?- she finally asks, looking at who was her best friend for years, as if he was a ghost. -What are you doing here?- certainly the blonde's tone is not what he expected.

-I'm back in the team!- he announces with joy. But he doesn't get it in return. Garcia indicates the man who stands next to her and presents him to Derek.

-This is the special agent Luke Alvez- Morgan doesn’t go unnoticed the tone that she uses in naming him, full of affection and not only -and Luke, this is Derek Morgan.- the two exchange a circumspect look, before shake hands amicably. Both see in the other a possible rival or an enemy.

Passes an eternity before the bald opening his mouth. -Baby girl, can we talk?- Luke jumps hearing another man call his woman in this way. The famous super-agent, multi-decorated hero etc. etc. Derek Morgan. I could gladly have done without this acquaintance. Unknowingly he turns the ring that leads to the finger of his left hand and rejoices, remembering the idea of giving the computer technician something that explicitly declared to the whole world that she belonged to him.

Penelope turns to him and touches his arm -Lovely, would you give us a moment alone? I have to speak with Morgan.- he nods, resisting with difficulty the temptation to greet her with a kiss, which further certifies the current situation to the prodigal son. He just nods and caresses her cheek.

-It's okay, chica.- he gives her one last look, to which she replies with a smile. Once Agent Alvez is go, Garcia turns seriously again.

-So ...  you got on well with the new agent, I see ...- his tone is ironic, and she catches it perfectly. But it's not the amused tone they used once to make fun each other, with aftertaste of sweetness and affection. This is a bad irony, which implies an accusation that is neither here nor there.

-Why did you have to come here, Morgan?- she is careful not to get too close and keep him from doing the same. She returns to her bat-cave, but doesn't invite him to cross the threshold. Derek follows her in any case, admiring the garish dress she wears and the skin it lets see. At least certain things haven't changed.

-Maybe what you would like to say is: what do you want from me?- underlines the man, reaching her and leaning on her desk.

-So, Morgan? Tell me what you want and just do it. I have to work.- she puffs impatient.

-I saw.- he launches a last arrow, then understands that he has little time to fix the mess combined with his jealousy. -Penelope ... I know you're angry because we didn't be in touch like we promised ...- she motioned him to continue. -Baby girl, you will not tell me that a simple contingency can destroy more than ten years of solid friendship?- he can't help it, his hands travel in the direction of her body, grabs her for hips and force her to stand up. She can't stop him, but it's a submission that doesn't give her shivers of pleasure like with Luke; on the contrary, it makes her feel weak and insecure. Derek represents her past, her biggest mistake. She didn't even believe she could ever love someone, because she was too slave, too sick of the man who is now holding her hands in his. Instead it happened and just now that everything is perfect, he can't think of going back and slamming his claims in her face.

-Things have changed ...- Penelope tries to mention, with a tremendously fragile tone. She hates herself.

-I saw.- Derek admits, reluctantly. And for the first time since she saw him again, she hears a sad note in his voice. And almost there she is, ready to hold him in her arms to make him feel better. She feels a finger pain, exactly where is the ring. But he seems to notice the breach in her armor. -I miss you...- he adds some salt on it, forcing her to look him in the eye.

-Derek, please ...- another sign of failure. She had calls him by name. What a heavenly sound for his ears. He had not heard it for too long.

-Baby, you can't be tough with me. I know you too well ...- You should say "you knew me". I've changed. Now I'm stronger. So why I can't tell him? Why I don't get out his hug? Luke, please come and save me! Indeed, no. I have to do it alone. I must definitely free myself of this awe. I've always looked at him too much like an unattainable myth. Like a sun. And once someone said: The myths should be watched like you look at the sun, from a distance and in passing. -Penelope?- he questions her, since him didn't get any reaction from the woman.

-What do you want?!- she blurts, her eyes bright with the effort of not feeling anything for him.

-Baby, girl why are you crying?- instead of approaching, as she might expect, he moves away, finally aware of how much pain he has done. And not just since he left. -Baby ...- she stops him with a single glance.

-Don't ... don't call me baby girl, please. Derek ... I missed you too. The difference, is that I missed you too much .- seeing his confused look, she hurries to explain. -I could hardly breathe in the morning when I arrived here, and I couldn't see you at your desk. Fortunately, I repeat it: luckily! Agent Alvez arrived. You have no idea how him helped me.- Derek instead has an idea, but it's bad and it's better if he doesn't explain it -I have treated him very bad at the beginning, just because he was not you. I was very unjust, and I was wrong. But this thing ... intrigued him and in the end we found ourselves ... as you saw us.- Penelope smiles at this statement. There is no clearer way to make him understand that she is happy with Luke. And that will not allow him to undermine the goal she has reached so hard.

Without any logical reason, Morgan begins to smile, then even laugh, almost hysterically. Garcia even begins to think that he can choke and tries to stop him. -I can't believe it ...- exclaims between a wince and the other -It's my fault.- and the laughter left the way it came. And he comes back serious.

-Morgan, are you ok?- even now, the fact that she finally worry about him can make him feel better.

-No. Garcia, there's something I haven't told you yet. Savannah and I ... we divorced.-  SBAM. A fist in the chest. She didn't expect such news and doesn't know what to say. She never wanted they break up. Not at least after Hank was born. That child had no fault. Only she would have liked to be his mother instead of godmother.

She would have liked. Hypothetical and past time.

-Can you say anything?- now he's a little too close. For the second time in less than an hour, Penelope finds herself against the wall of her office. But this time it will be different. She is sure of this. Because she can't do this to Luke. He doesn't deserve it. And she neither. -I'm glad someone made you feel better while I wasn't here, but now I'm here.- he raises her chin. -Do you remember what I told you before I left?- No! screams every pore of her skin. Don't say it, don't repeat it! -Penelope Garcia ... I love you ... so much...- It was wrong to tell me long time ago, with a newborn son and it's even more so now. She sees him approaching even more, to bridge the gap between them in a kiss for which years ago she would have jumped for joy and sold all her "babies". But not now. With a willpower that she didn't even know she had, she manages to push him away by placing her hand on his chest, which didn't lose its appeal to her. But she is stronger. Derek looks at her like a dazed man. -Oh, no. Will you not tell me that you love him?- if he were in his right mind, he would never ask her for something like that. He would never behave so self-confident and snooty. But he has lost the ability to discern and think correctly the moment he saw his baby girl in the company of that guy.

-Is that what you want to hear? Yes, Derek. I love him. I really love him. I love Luke Alvez with every fiber of my body.- Penelope isn't lying, he doesn't need to have the I.Q. of Reid to understand it, nor being a profiler. But a part of him still can't admit defeat. He can't conceive of it.

-I don't believe it. Do you love him as you loved Sam? Or Kevin? That when he asked you to marry him, you panicked and blew it to smithereens...- he reproaches her with such a wickedness to stun her. This isn't Morgan she loved. He must be his evil twin. The subtext is clear to her. You couldn't love another man, because you still loved me. -Answer me, Penelope.- he takes her by the arm, to keep her from escaping.

-What do you want, Morgan? Do you want me to tell you why I love him? He is the best man I know. He is stubborn, intelligent, witty ... and terribly sexy. He's not the nerd guy I thought he was the only one who could ever seriously care about me ... with whom to speak only of bytes, firewalls, etcetera ... He's attractive and can capture both my mind and body ...- Derek almost dies of this declaration. But he still can't accept defeat. He can't.

-But...- he throws the hook, hoping that there is really a "but".

-But what? But he's not you? I'm sorry- she shakes her head slightly -but he's not Kevin. If you had asked me a date while I was with Kevin, I don't know how I would have to say no. I was sick, Derek. Incredibly, madly crazy for you. I saw you as a hero ... but you were too far away to think you were real. You're right- she admits, looking down for a moment - I didn't love Kevin fully. I could not marry him, because he wasn't you. Every time I make comparisons between him and you, and poor ... he always lost. But with Luke it's different- she raises her head and looks him straight in the eye. -I don't have to make a comparison with you, because I don't see any shortcomings towards him. He makes me feel loved, attractive, interesting and protected.- seeing the sad expression that has been painted on the man's face, she hurries to add: -I'm not saying that you have never made me feel so... just... in a different way. I stopped hoping there might be something between us, long ago. It's not true, I'm saying a lie. I never stopped until I met Luke. I can't explain why.- she smiles sadly seeing him so sorry. But this doesn't change her feelings. -If it can make you feel better or maybe you'll understand why it's good, that I'm out of "Derek Morgan's addiction", at the beginning when I realized I was really attracted to Luke ... I felt like I were cheating on you! It is not a sensible thing. You were married and with a son.-

-Baby girl, why you never told me anything ...- it is the first sentence that he says after those that seem centuries. She grabs his hand. Now she knows she can love him without risking a crap and ruining the best thing she's ever had.

-I'll never stop being attracted to you or loving you, you've been my best friend for too many years. But this doesn't change what I feel. I would never betray Luke with you. I didn't think I'd ever have to say anything like that but... you arrived after the deadline. It 's too late.- at this moment what she needs is the muscular arms of her boyfriend to wrap her completely, to take her out of this tremendous world, in which best friends-impossible dreams come back in the least opportune moment. -Derek ... are you okay? What a silly question, it's obvious that you can't.- this is his baby girl, talkative every time she cares about someone she loves; she'll not cease to be so only because her heart belongs to another man.

-I don't know... but... can I ask you only one thing?- she nods -Would you give me the honor of a hug?- Garcia doesn't make him repeat a second time and hugs him tightly, without feeling in the least guilty. Derek immediately begins to whisper softly, like a lullaby, in her ear, while he caresses her hair, never crossing friend's border -I'm so sorry, Penelope. I never wanted you to suffer so much because of me. I never dared to demonstrate what I felt for you. And I don't know why I wanted to believe you would be here, waiting for me forever. But I have to thank you, woman. I thank you because you made me understand my selfishness and you made me go back to being what I was two years ago. Unfortunately, with Savannah didn't go well, right away. I've changed, for the worse, in these years. I became more cynical and this also because I had no dirty conversations with a blonde of our knowledge. I will not stop loving you, Penelope Garcia. And that's why I want you to know that your happiness, as much as it costs me, is also mine.- Penelope smiles. -Now ... it will be better to go out. Otherwise I think that your boyfriend will take me out ...- he still can't joke with the same tranquility of the past, but with time, maybe it will be better. It wasn't meant to be.

-So, what did you and the special agent Derek Morgan talk about?- Penelope laughs and throws the pillow over her.

-Are you jealous, Agent Alvez?- she says.

-I should be?- Luke replies with the umpteenth question, then kidnapps her in a long kiss that expresses everything he's thinking. When he found himself in front of the legendary and all too mentioned Derek Morgan, he thought he was going crazy. When he left them alone, he was afraid of going crazy. The idea of ​​losing her isn't conceivable. Not for a guy who made her feel bad for years, even if not entirely voluntarily, and then comes comfortably comfortable hoping of stealing her to the latest, like America during the World Wars. He trusted her, yes, but... but he always fears. And Penelope seems to understand it perfectly.

-Love, you feeling okay?- she crouches on his chest and in a dwarf according to his arms wrap her like a blanket. Luke nods, then shakes his head. -Hey, Mr. Tall Dark and Blandsome, you know I love you, right?- that's all he needed.

-You know that I love you too.-

And then it's just laughter and cuddle.

 short appendix: I'm not Derek

-Garcia, I diagnosed you perfectly. You're one who likes to play with fire. Well, I think you enjoyed a little too much in the past.- seeing her expression, he hurries to add - Don't you take it out on our colleagues, they had to tell me the truth. I'm not Derek Morgan.- every sentence he's closer one millimeter to her -My hearth is free. I have no reason to turn off the spark. I don't limit myself to burning with words, I also move on to action.- only an inch separates them when he silent. -Be careful, Penelope. Don't get confused, not all the pyromaniacs are the same. You could burn yourself.- when he smiles his lips almost touch the woman's.

Penelope can't escape; she has her back to the wall. And even if she could ... now her heart is set on fire and no fireman will be able to extinguish the flames that burn every inch of her body.

This is one of the first Garvez I wrote. Is dedicated to @theshamelessmanatee Others tags @itsdawnashlie  @talesoffairies @martinab26 @janiedreams88  @kiki-krakatoa@yessenia993 @arses21434 @teyamarra  @c00lhandsluke @gcchic  @rkt3357 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jamirn@kathy5654 @lovesgoodluna @thisonekid@thenibblets@ambrosiaswhispers @perfectly-penelope @courtneyxoxo1 @jahreau @gracieeelizabeth27  @silviajajaja @ichooseno  megs2219 @ smalliemichelle99 @skisun @chewwy123 @maziikeen92 @ gracieeelizabeth27  @ thinitta   @franklintrixie  @jenf42