#My blueberry and my grumpy agent

[darksonofsparda]

I queued a thing, but not lots. Brain couldn't form writing energy last night I'll be on Vergil after work later, but either later today or tomorrow. I'm gonna spend some time on my other blogs. I love Vergil, and his muse will still be here But It's about time I gave my other muses attention

I can't let this DMC brainrot control me forever. Just know that I'll always find time for my devil man Will more than likely lurk on here on those days. With a few replies in between of course.

Anyway, just a little note in case you don't see me on here. But I'll be back here because I have lots to look forward to.

Have a fantastic day and evening While Ieave to fight the cold yet again >_>

[forever-rogue]

hi!! I saw ur lil fall drabble list and was wondering if maybe 63 with javi? (also, even if u don’t do this prompt, I just wanted to say thank u for your writing, there’s just something super warm about ur blog ) :’)

63. “It’s hand holding season.”

Oh 🥺 This is soft but I love it and one grumpy DEA man 🥰 I hope you enjoy and thank you, mi amor 💕

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier sighed heavily as he slumped back in his seat, tossing the binoculars to the side. Rolling your eyes at him, you reached for the offending item and held them in to your eyes as you tried to see anything.

This stakeout had been quiet, oh so quiet, and was turning into a colossal waste of time. You almost envied Murphy for getting to stay back at the office to handle paperwork. It would at least have given you something to occupy your mind.

"This was a fuckin' set up," Javier sighed as he grabbed another cigarette, shoved it into his mouth and lit it. You made a noncommittal sound as you set the binoculars down in the center console and reached for your water bottle. Despite the fact that it was nearing Christmas, it was still warm in Colombia, and you were thankful for having to remembered to wear a light shirt and jean shirt, "they dropped this information to get us out here and waste time."

"You don't know that, Javi," you told him, reaching for the cigarette and pulling out of his mouth. He was momentarily stunned as he watched you bring it to your own lips and take a long drag before throwing it outside the window, "a horrible habit really."

"You're..." he trailed off as a little smirk grew on his face.

"What?" you teased before opening the door and sliding out of the passenger seat, "funny? Brilliant? Beautiful? A better agent than you? All things I already knew."

"Let's just go into the town and see if we can find anything," you suggested as he nodded, following closely on your tail.

It wasn't a town so much as a small village in the middle of the jungle, but it was quaint - sweet even. And it felt safe. Almost too safe. You wondered if that was all part of their plan or if you'd just become so jaded that anything that wasn't outwardly a threat became suspicious. Either way, there wasn't much there.

You stopped by and examined some of the stalls that boasted colorful fruit, berries you knew Javi adored, and delicious food, making small talk with the locals. Javier remained silent, following close behind and throwing in a word here and there.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost bowled you over when you made a pointed stop to buy some fruit.

"Sorry," he murmured as you just shook your head at him, paying a large sum, much larger than necessary, for the berries you'd asked for. The vendor didn't seem to want to accept but you insisted.

You continued on, popping a few of the ripe and juicy blueberries into your mouth. Christmas displays were everywhere and you took your time to look at everything. Javier was there too looking at everything, but in this case, everything was you.

"Javi?" you asked when you noticed her paused, an almost confused look on his face. You motioned for him to follow, "come on."

"Berries," he said as you offered him the bag to pick some out, "why berries?"

"I like them," you raised an eyebrow, "and they're your favorites too. Win-win?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed, nodding but still curious as he took a few berries in his hand, mulling them over before popping them in his own mouth, "wait."

"Hmm?" you turned back to him and watched as he pointed to the corner of your mouth.

"You've got some juice," he said as you tried to scrub the drying bits away, to no avail. He tutted in the back of his throat as he shook his head. Lifting his hand, he waited for a moment before reaching over to see if you would stop him. But when you didn't, he used his thumb to delicately wipe away the juice from the corner of your lips. You tried to ignore the feeling of his hand on, suppressing the warmth that was spreading throughout you, "all better."

"Thanks," you murmured softly before continuing on, heading towards where you spied a large Christmas tree display. Javi had been stunned into silence, but quickly caught up to you, trying to make sense of the feelings that were bubbling up much stronger suddenly.

"Hey," he said softly as you studied him, finding a light pink tinge creeping into his cheeks, "give me your hand."

"My hand?" you asked with a laugh as he nodded, "whatever for?"

"Its...hand holding season," he blurted out, "it'll help us blend in. Just like all those other couples."

"Hand holding season?" you repeated as he nodded.

"Yeah, you know, Christmas, it's all about couples and stuff."

"Or we could just be friends?" you offered up as he shook his head.

"Not good enough," he insisted as he reached for your hand. You didn't even bother to stop him. You had no desire to.

The rest of your time in the small village and largest uneventful, which turned out to be a nice change of pace. You were sure that Javi had been right this was some sort of set up to get you to look away from something else or just to throw you off the Escobar's scent....but for once you didn't mind.

You enjoyed walking around with Javi, talking about anything and everything as you looked around. It was easy - fun. Part of it even felt so real, like you were an actual couple instead of just paying pretend. Javi just have gotten in the little charade too because by the time you to the car, he was still holding your hand, and your fingers were still laced together.

"Javi," you held up your clasped hands as you moved to open your door, " I think we're good now."

"What if...what if I don't want to let go?" he asked softly as you looked up to meet his honeyed eyes. They were searching yours, looking for some sort of sign that you wanted this too. And you did. You had for a long time.

"You don't have to," you whispered softly, fighting back a huge grin.

"I think...God, this probably going to sound crazy, but I'm in love with you," he decided to just get it all out before blabbering too much and making a completle fool of himself.

"Yeah?" you asked as he bit his lip but nodded. It had taken him a long, long time to put together the pieces but here he was, finally, "okay."

"What?" he dropped your hand out of surprise as you laughed and crossed your arms over your chest, "all I get is an okay? I just told you-"

"I know," you stopped him, "me too. It took you long enough to realize...I thought...maybe you never would. Or that I was setting myself up for failure. What made you finally realize?"

"The berries," he admitted as broke into a fit of giggles, "what?!"

"I hate berries," you admitted, "they're probably my least favorite fruit."

"Then why did you..."

"Because they're your favorites, Javi. I know you always enjoy them," you whispered as the softest look crossed his features, "and you never treat yourself to anything, so you basically forced my hand. The rest are yours by the way."

"Holy shit," he whispered as he waited in amusement, shaking his head, "fuck. This whole time. I'm a dumbass. If I wouldn't have been so stupid-"

"Javier?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna kiss me or...do you need a few more years to get there first?"

"Fuck you," he grinned as he put his hands on both sides of your face, pulling you gently towards him as he crashed his lips onto yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Not too bad," you said when you broke apart for some air. He just laughed lightly, "might need to work on that a little."

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh," you teased, "unless that's the best you've got it."

"You're just asking for it-"

"Yeah, Javi, I am," you whispered in his ear before kissing him again, "what are you going to do to about it?"

"Let's get out of here."

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Aftermath (NJ x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Guesthouse AU

Pairing: Guesthouse Manager!Namjoon x Foreign!Reader

Warnings: Dirty talk, possessive behaviour, rough unprotected sex on the kitchen counter (ALWAYS use precautions, lads and lasses), accidental voyeurism, squirting, fingering, swearing, breeding/impregnation kink, dom!Namjoon

Summary: The sequel to ‘’Dionysian’’

Every aftermath is different, ranging in variety to all its extents. However, this one experienced by a silver tongue no longer numbed by blueberries does not nullify its need to speak the truth. Thus, the blonde wolf holds on to beliefs made explicit in drunkenness and hopes for physical conviction in sobriety.

By means which carry a sober soul into a former mutual intoxication.

Masterlist

The impact of an aftermath all depends on the reason for its cause, so naturally, it follows that the bigger the agent, the grander the effect of the afterburn. A jet lag tried to be cured by reading, for example, does not have as much if any unpleasant side effects aside from a sense of discombobulation, this is disregarding the fact that what followed the leisurely activity does make walking not all that easy, while the smoky blueberry hangover causes a major headache on top of muttering grumpiness. Withal, and perhaps this is fortunate regardless of the oppressing morality of reality, the negative mood in case of the latter seems to lessen quite a bit when exhausted pained espresso eyes shrouded by haphazard platinum meet drowsy sheepish irises containing various travel stories in the second living room upstairs.

‘Y/N,’ it comes out as a surprised reaction, not having expected to run into the person indirectly involved with the lingering effects of rice-based clear alcohol contained in emerald if that is remembered at all considering the vague forgetful haze shrouding an always comforting gaze, ‘I thought you’d be out and about by now.’

The remark signifies last night has been forgotten and with that the strangely meaningful act that turned out entirely different than expected, oddly making the heart sink with the stone of knowledge that even the genuine passion and devotion has been erased. ‘No, I’m here sleeping off the jet lag. But, uhm, can we talk?’

‘Sure, but,’ a palm presses against the forehead in a futile endeavour to push the likely agonizingly pulsing hurt into retreat, ‘can we do so at a low volume. My head is killing me.’

More than that is currently being figuratively murdered, but there is a voice inside which says that the tall guesthouse manager does not have to know about the events of the past twilight for they are best left in the past. Henceforth, it stays at a consenting nod before two pairs of bare feet ascend the stairs to the stylish though small area both functioning as a hallway, living room, dining room and kitchen all at once.

Along the way, a brief spark of hope is ignited when fingers brush against each other in an absent-minded fashion, hoping for them to entangle entirely or mayhaps go beyond that chaste boundary, falling into the sin left behind in oblivious dusk. A straying digit encourages this renewed type of contact.

But is disregarded as opportunity fades away directly when the wanted big hand swerves away towards the front door where a few coats hang neatly in a row to retrieve a small box of Marlboro Red cigarettes. ‘I’ll be right back. Maybe a smoke will help me clear up.’

The spring weather is warm enough to allow going outside without a jacket provided the upper body is in the least covered by a T-shirt, so the grey long-sleeved shirt on top of loose navy pyjama pants more than suffices when the front door briefly opens and closes without another word to carry on the communication seemingly unaffected by the sensual encounter.

The silence that sets in is cold, the warm lingering affection normally shown nor the traces of the rough version present to calm an anxious heart fearing being abandoned by the handsome manager despite being bound to a gentle ocean artist. Hence, for a moment that feels longer than it truly is, eyes begin to water at the sight of the closed entrance as arms wrap around the shivering body to keep it from unjustly falling apart, barely shy of sobbing when asking the rhetorical questions of the emptiness. ‘Why can’t you remember? Why did it have to mean nothing?’

And with those very same haunting unanswered inquiries, the task of making two decent cups of instant coffee is taken up while fighting the tears that inevitably stream down the cheeks. Shivering hands retrieve a pair of matching crimson and ink black mugs from the cupboard that is slightly too highly installed for the short person determinedly trying to grab a hold of the china, eventually succeeding by standing on the tips of toes. Soft hiccups get lost in the loudly boiling water and the dimmed sobs in the pouring that brings the caffeine to life.

However, a new noise is audible over the tinkling of spoons mixing the powder and water to create a godly beverage: bare feet rapidly padding over the Alaskan white cedar floor after a shocked gasp. Before the door has closed with a hardly audible click, unusually physically affectionate strong arms clad in grey have wrapped around the middle and pulled a fragile figure against a worried chest scented with fresh smoke. ‘Why are you crying?’

‘It- It’s nothing. Do- Don’t worry.’ To move on from the stupidly prominent hurt at the hand of lying fancies, a trivial detail is asked after while continuing to keep the whirlpool in the cup alive, moving. All consuming. ‘Do y- you drink it black?’

‘Y/N, please tell me what’s bothering you. I hate to see you like this.’ The warm breath on locks makes teeth bite down on the lower lip in a desperate attempt to withhold another heavy heave evoked by the genuine loving imaginations it conjures, gravely reminding the mind Taehyung already has an allegation to the title of significant other.

‘Namjoon, re- really. It’s o- okay.’ The handsome tall tree was never meant to be a selfish girl’s lover anyway, so the mourning of the fact is nothing but superfluous information to the man who cannot even remember how amazing and wanted he made her feel. How good it felt to lose control.

‘Is it about last night?’ A plush mouth no longer ghosts over strands grown haphazard by slumber, pressing down on the back of the head in a sincere loving smoke-scented kiss.

A weak nod confirms the suspicion, bravely trying to speak up to ask the question previously asked to the nothingness in a blonde wolf’s wake. ‘Have you forgotten what we did?’

‘I was far gone, too drunk to memorize what happened.’ Had it not been for what follows the statement, the crying might have commenced in earnest without ever giving a proper explanation for it afterwards to neither the platinum giant nor anyone else. Fortunately, the sorrowful chill fades from limbs at the heated reassuring mumbled words. ‘But I remember everything we did, all that I said. How gorgeous you looked while riding me, solely mine instead of his.’

The hug loosens enough to allow for turning around when noticing the urge to do so, needing to see the truth of the claim beneath the soju aftermath.

The dark reminiscent glint says more than enough, emphasizing the wanting has not been nullified over the course of sobering during the remnants of the nightly hours. Especially the barely held back anger pointed towards the artist called a “blueberry” in drunken rage signifies still wanting to be the sole one for a taken travelling individual living on a deadline. ‘I do hate it, you know? Hate it how he’s your boyfriend and I have to watch from the sideline. It should have been me who fucked you when you two came back from eating ramen. In fact, that could have been our second date if only you had recognized the trip to ARTBOX meant as much to me as a first.’

The embrace is made entirely undone as palms move upwards over the upper arms, following the curve of the neck and at last coming to rest on the cheeks where two kind thumbs wipe away the remaining brooks. ‘I don’t care how many men fuck you, but, in the end, I want you to be mine. That, out of all the times another touches you, it’s only meaningful when it’s me. I want you to be mine.’ Lips connect in a kiss tasting of smoke, old alcohol and restless sleep with a fruity hint of blueberries. Not really a preferable combination due to the sharpness of rice alcohol, but otherwise as pleasant, if not more, than the turpentine and lavender experienced each night before going to bed, every morning at waking up and all the little shared moments in between. ‘Leave him. Leave him for me, baby.’

‘I promised he could stay with me.’ Attention shifts to the side, staring at the floor in conflicted self-loathing for wanting to give up for Namjoon but wondering whether it would even matter since the blue-haired art teacher was turned on by the idea of being shared. Said he could learn how to love this body and soul better that way. However, it begs to ask the question where the line is drawn, at which point even this explanation no longer applies.

‘And he still believes that when I’ve clearly marked you as mine? Made him watch you getting a good pounding by me?’ Focus is shifted back by suddenly being picked up and put on the counter, the contact with the cold surface beneath the thighs making a shuddering tingling run down the spine. ‘I want him to stand by and watch, know there isn’t anything he can do to take you from me.’ A tanned hand creeps up the inside of dangling legs, gripping the upper part firmly at the last statement with a concoction of rage pointed towards an absent party and lust towards the present one. ‘Make him feel as I have all this fucking time.’

Helpless palms try to futilely push away the persistent shoulders leaning in to retrace the wonderful path of marks left behind in the twilight purple past, kissing each plum sign of belonging created in the craze of desire, hovering above the gradually heating skin and increasing the temperature by tickling warm breath. Without a second thought, in spite of Sense urging against doing it, fingers acting on muscle memory entangle in soft fluffy platinum locks like they had done before as the foreign body mindlessly bridges the small space between it and the local one.

The obvious hunger for the wolf disguised as a nice guesthouse manager evokes a tangibly bright smile on full lips while the oversized piece of clothing which is the property of a rival is endeavoured to be removed. ‘I think I like this complacent you more, baby. Now take this damn shirt off, I dislike lavender on you.’

‘You will have to deal with it. It keeps me warm.’ The smugness of the dark has not faded since talking back to Namjoon when the man thinks there is no courage to do so is actually quite amusing. Furthermore, it is also another way to avoid giving into the sensual craving stirring in the gut, fueled by the sensations of wanting to be possessed.

‘Hm, maybe not so obedient, after all.’ Clearly, the attitude is not tolerated even in a sober state. Yet, the caressing of the sides combined with a pondering hum forms an example of actual care about wellbeing. ‘I don’t want you to catch a cold, though. Hold on, baby, I’ll be right back.’

Just briefly a handsome face can be regarded fully in earnest before it rushes up the stairs and comes back down with a gorgeous creme-shaded silk kimono with intricate patterns in complementing colours and black bands at the ends of the sleeves. Quick as lightning, making sure there is no opportunity to resist at the last second, the crisp white shirt is almost torn off to be replaced by the personal piece of clothing.

Withal, before the new garments are donned, espresso eyes are drawn to the mesmerizing sight of the revealed chest, grand palms enveloping the two sensitive cushions perfectly as if made exactly to fit the broad-shouldered human tree’s hands. ‘Why did you hide this from me? You’re beautiful.’ The head dips down to take the swollen right rosebud into the mouth, teasing it by nibbling and licking the agitated bud of nerves, while left digits glide over the stomach towards the source of the hedonic scent as their right counterparts curl over the edge of the counter to remain balanced though they rapidly shift to the hip closing in with the ache to be closer. ‘So incredibly beautiful.’

When the coy amusing ministrations over cotton becoming sticky with uncontrollable wanting bring bliss almost too close, the desperate grip on hair that has to be renewed with every novel angle of exploration begins to shake and the chest is falling and rising heavily with laborious breaths mixed with pathetic whimpers and surprised gasps at harder bites or pressure on extremely sensitive spots, the sorry excuse for panties are torn off and the kimono embedded with a trace of nicotine blueberries put on. ‘Look at you, Y/N. Naked but for my clothes, marked as mine, blushing all cutesy with the need for me.’ Legs spread automatically and with a lewd squelch, two fingers slide in embarrassingly easily, soon joined by a third when notice is taken it can be done without problems. ‘So hungry for my cock, craving a good pounding.’ A too eager nod. ‘But first, I’m going to make you squirt all over my fingers and only use you as my personal fucktoy when you’re all nice and complacent, sensitive. Begging me to stop, whining for me to pull my big cock out, crying when I pump you full again. After all, you’re nothing more than my little breeding machine.’

It does not take long for the first promise to come to fruition, the remaining restraints of reality rapidly let go of once that special mind-boggling spot is found and touched over and over after the betraying whine, compelled to watch the obvious watery effects of pleasure by means of an unrelenting controlling grip on hair and baritone growls that shatter every thought in a white haze. ‘You’re such an easy fuck. Already cumming so quickly, making such a mess. But it’s also perfect, because it makes it that much easier to force myself into you, for you to handle me.’

Keeping the earlier given word, loose marine blue bottoms alongside the once fresh pair of boxers - now ruined by the transparent sinful sign which was only noticeable in a tangible shape - are pushed down to the ankles to give free reign to a sober part of the body that the one of the self is already well-acquainted with. Without warning nor inquiry about consent, making use of the floating trance which causes every reaction to be slowed down immensely due to the ignorant bliss exerting a hypnotizing influence on the consciousness, a more intense version of the renewed physical bond is established. The sole reaction that can be managed is hands tightening the hold on the buff upper arms that were already previously held tight when it were only long digits bringing about sexual ruin, hot tears on the brim of falling at the burning sensation of being stretched open again which is intensified by every nerve still standing on edge by the plunge into sensitivity. ‘Namjoon! It- it’s too much. I- I can’t- please, pull out.’

A dark chuckle falls from full lips at a pained whimper evoked at the hand of overstimulation, corners of the mouth curled up in a satisfied devilish grin. ‘You feel even better than I remember. So fucking tight. I said I’d give you a good pounding when you’re nothing more but an obedient little thing, flinching at every contact because it’s too overwhelming.’

Honey-toned digits fold themselves perfectly over the waist, scooting the infiltrated persona closer with ease and thus deepen the union with another pained outcry contrasting with the gesture of holding on tighter to the intoxicating offender driving out any thought dedicated to Taehyung and Jungkook, muffling the beginnings of crying in ashen nicotine fabric, finding comfort in the characteristic scent. However, the hiding place is merely temporary as the counterpart of the shackle on the middle forms around the jaw, ensuring with force that stares remain locked under any circumstance. ‘I want you to keep looking at me as you beg for me to stop. Just know that it won’t actually help, so you can whimper and cry all you want but it only turns me on. You’re going to take my cock like last night, let me empty entirely inside you, and there is nothing you can do about it. You’re gonna take every last drop,’ the hold tightens yet is not fought against as the effect of the sheer strength is as good as a drunken stupor, obliterating the last slivers of the old hypnotizing veil and immediately replacing it with a new blindfold, ‘milk me till I’m dry and your pretty pussy, swollen and sore, is leaking again with my seed.’

A sloppy kiss in combination with the last spoken words before a devastating act of love commences in earnest unintentionally already shows how wanton personal longing has become, endeavouring to enhance the intimacy even further and satiate the uncontrollable craving which is at war with the urge to end it here merely on the grounds of the searing agony below. A brief repose would also be a good alternative, but the primal spirit within neglects the idea altogether and listens instead gladly to the platinum wolf. ‘So, spread your fucking legs like a good deprived bitch and let me breed you.’

Muscles loosen enough to heed the command, an awful joy the determining factor in keeping up with the directly set relentless pace between the thighs of which the ankles wrap around a carved waist that stirs up a paradoxical storm of pleasure and pain in the gut with its movements. Pleads for a halt mixed with sobs about how much it hurts, not lying despite also clearly showing the need for more, made to a beautiful face are returned with praise. ‘Keep begging like that, baby. I’m not going to stop, not when you’re taking me so well.’ The hideous snarl returns with the memory surfacing at a newly discovered detail, a trace thought to have been made undone when restoring the ruin of the night but which only evokes jealousy spurring on the desire to imprint it all over again. ‘When he’s erased every trace of me inside.’

‘N- Nam- Namjoon, pl- please. I- I’m taken. Tae- ah!’ The mention of the sweet artist’s name is obviously unappreciated, the roughness increasing at the attempt to involve a third party if only in speech alone and pushing the burning further into a novel depth. Whatever was about to be said about Taehyung having the right to cover every sensual track made by another on a beloved, albeit solely for a piece of peace of mind, is nullified in the scream preceding heavier heaves disrupted by more pleading while the body behaves in a contrasting manner.

The caramel compelling lover is held near with the tightening of shaking legs around a sculpted waist and cute howbeit flat tummy, hands meekly tugging at the powerful wrists to convince them to break off the harsh grip on the jaw in favour of an unbreakable clinging embrace, the idea of which is consented to and allows fingers to entangle in platinum fluffy strands. Withal, even though it is allowed but a warning is threateningly whispered into the ear almost deaf with the enchanting sounds of low grunts mixed with high-pitched whines against a background of skin meeting skin in the lewdest of fashions. ‘That blueberry doesn’t have the right to erase me from your system. Besides, baby, if you’d really love him, you wouldn’t be taking my dick.’

And in that is a truth universally acknowledged, because if there truly was devotion to a single soul, another one would not be enjoyed as much as it is. There would only be the chemical sting of turpentine made smooth by lavender and the ironically currently affected combination of nicotine smoke, fresh soap and sharp mint kept at bay in mere friendship.

But it is not.

‘Is everything alright? I heard someone... oh.’ The front door is unsuspectingly opened with haste by a panicked classic pastry and sweets maker, cheeks colouring a bright rosy pink matching the neatly arranged hairstyle when realizing what the source for the outcry thought to be in distress really is.

‘Get out.’ Possessive fevered irises glare at a stunned Jimin, frozen in place by awkwardness and ignorance as to how to proceed to come out of the situation as unscathed as possible, full lips parted in pure paralysis. ‘We’re busy.’

Hard-handed, the almost affectionate hug is broken off with a renewed hold on the jaw to unresistingly shift attention from desperately holding onto broad shoulders with black sensitive blindness to gaze at a flustered face lit up the bright Seoul spring sun. Though murmured at a low volume against the reddish-purple bruises on the side of the throat, what is being said is nevertheless audible for the unwelcome visitor with hair like the cherry blossoms around the concrete jungle. ‘And don’t you dare try to interfere. Y/N’s taking my cum, she’s my slut.’ A seemingly misplaced nuzzle under a primal trance makes it undeniable whom the ravished body belongs even though the intricate gorgeous kimono also gives off a clue. ‘Mine.’

‘Well, actually-’ The rest of the sentence is broken off when the risk of the manager’s wrath becomes too real again, sheepishly settling for something else before rushing off to God-knows-where after shutting the just opened door with a slam. ‘You know what? Never mind. I’ll, uh, leave you to- to it.’

‘I swear, if he also comes after you. Which he will, just like the others, even Yoongi, and that desperate boy trying to pretend he’s actually a cop.’ The continuation of the threat gets lost in a dangerously displeased grunt accompanied by a harsh thrust. The grip shifts from the underside of the face to the throat, closing the airways just enough to not suffocate in fueled rage taken out in passion. ‘However, I. Don’t. Share.’

Climaxes can be triggered in various ways, but the need to possess of a strong-willed wolf and the craving of a traveller to be controlled by the blonde animal in disguise because the ocean artist is too sweet throws entangled forbidden lovers violently off the cliff, on the edge of which has been tethered with words pushing the wish to achieve the lewdly described goals.

And just like during the last twilight and at the start of relived furious jealous love-making, the overstimulation is ignored as pained whimpers and repeated pleads for pulling out continue to function as an aphrodisiac until yet another promise is fulfilled, once more made to watch how it is established when not staring into raging deep brown.

‘Breath, baby, breath. Easy, easy, shhh.’ After the last release, shaking all over with effort which makes it hard to remain upright, a heated gradually calming chest is collapsed against in an explosive limbo as a hand transformed from rough into gentle caresses messy locks. Cushion full lips place an appreciating kiss on the temple, an action that is quite a contrast with the claiming biting, while every last drop of thick undoubtedly unclear fluid is attempted to be absorbed regardless of the soreness. ‘That’s it, baby. Milk me. Good girl, you did so well. I’m proud of you.’

When having regained consciousness enough to straighten the spine and be somewhat coherent in the reality that slowly sinks in, another chaste kiss is placed on a sticky forehead as upper arms clad in clinging silk are rubbed kindly before slowly sliding up to cup a tear-streaked face and wipe away the last of tears, now shed thanks to the impactful severing which results in the wished for outcome of leaking with white. ‘God, you’re beautiful. That kimono also looks wonderful on you. You should wear it more often.’ 

The smug smirk at the comment fades away into severity as fast as it appeared, baritone voice stained with a certain gravity when requesting something that cannot be easily consented to due to committing promises. ‘I meant what I said. I don’t share, especially not the girl I love. Even if this ends up in a polygamous relationship if you decide to sleep with any of the other guys or they persuade you to, know that I’ll hate each and every one of them for knowing what it’s like to be with you when I want the privilege of it. Furthermore, if they make you do anything you don’t want, I’ll beat them up and turn them out onto the street.’ Absentmindedly, the collar of the robe is corrected, fabric put around a shivering speechless body with genuine care. ‘For now, leave him. I really do want you to leave him for me. Be mine.’

‘I can’t, Joon. I promised Taehyung we’d be more than a spring affair, that he can stay with me.’ A shuddering sigh almost makes the rediscovered voice disappear again with the realistic afterthought. ‘At least until I have to go.’

‘You can make the same promise to me and I’ll guarantee we can stay together. I got a solid income from the guesthouse, a place to call home and which can be our home whenever you’re in Korea.’ The kiss that follows is grave, acting like the last bastion in the fights against determined realism. Espresso irises scented with dewy nicotine laced with fruit gleam with pleads held out of speech. ‘I promise. Please, leave him.’

‘I can’t.’

Fists clamping Japanese clothing.

‘Why?’

Brooks on caramel cheeks.

‘Sorry.’

Clad in silk and traces of another that also cannot be.

Such is the devastating aftermath of two lonely broken hearts.

[mikami]

Death Note Audio Drama 05

Disc 5: Exclusion Criteria - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

In this: Rem dragging Misa for like a minute before then settling into her usual ‘I’d die for her’ pattern without a single explanation. Light, Misa, Rem and Ryuk going to Space Land! L arguing with a waiter! Otherwise there is a whole lot of canon-close plotting going on.

____

We begin with Rem talking to Gelus (the name used here), who is watching Misa. Gelus tells her that Misa is going to die today. Rem points out that everyone has their set time on Earth and calls Gelus out for behaving unfitting for a shinigami by mourning.

REM: What’s so special about this... Misa Amane?

GELUS: Her parents died in a break-in, but she’s tough. She’s working as a model, did you know? It’s a hard job. Every day can be a set-back, the people are judging you.... but she stands her ground and--

REM: Are you serious? She’s living off insurance money and smiles into cameras. That is a ‘hard job’ to you?

GELUS: I’m just saying--

REM: And I say, 17 years in a first world country in the 21st century. A pretty good life, if you ask me.

GELUS: I did not ask you.

REM: Get over it, Gelus, her time is up. If you don’t want to watch her die, you better look away now.

We hear the stalker approach Misa, trying to get her to die together. But then Gelus begins writing! Rem tries to stop him, but to no avail. 

_______

TITLE MUSIC

_______

RYUK: The thing with this girl is playing with fire.

LIGHT: I’ve got a few things that can burn.

RYUK: Beginning with L?

LIGHT: She can see people’s true names. I just need to make sure she meets him and she can bring an end to him. And then nobody will be a danger to me anymore.

RYUK: Her, maybe.

LIGHT: That’s something we can deal with later. Now come on. We’ve got a date.

RYUK: I’ve got no interest in Rem. Her teeth aren’t--

LIGHT: Shut up!

______

The task force is sighting the security camera material from Aoyama. L’s actor still mispronounces it as ‘Ayoyama’ and he’ll never stop, it’s killing me.  L orders that Light is getting an agent tailing him again, since he was also in Aoyama.

______

Light, Misa, Ryuk and Rem are on a rollercoaster!

RYUK: I’m not sure what’s up with this human idea of putting yourself into a state of fear on purpose.

REM: I second that. I feel no desire to be pulled up there only to then drop down again.

MISA: Ooh, be quiet back there! Just try enjoying the ride.

REM: Maybe it’s all about the side effect. The females can scream and hide in the arms of the males. A good excuse for physical proximity.

RYUK: How’s a bit of cuddling supposed to help when you’re crash landing?

LIGHT: Is there any way for you two to make yourself inaudible and invisible?

REM: Maybe they enjoy the anticipation of the fall... 

Light then decides to change the topic and ask Misa how she got her Death Note. She tells the story. In this version, the Death Note just immediately fell in front of Misa, rather than Rem deciding to give it to her.

The rollercoaster starts.

REM: Ryuk! Let go of my arm.

Ryuk: ‘m sorry!

______

Mogi, who is trailing Light, informs L that Light has a date. 

______

Misa complains the milkshakes aren’t big enough, while Light gives her Kira-related instructions for a new message to announce she’ll kill independently from Kira now and spread her powers (like in canon). 

______

Ryuk and Rem discuss ferris wheels. Ryuk supposes that it’s all about getting the view, Rem points out that it’s also about couples getting privacy. 

______

Light tells Misa to never disclose their relationship or anything to the police. Misa tries to ask for more dates, Light declines, everything just as in the manga. The whole ‘I’ll have to date other girls, too’ happens here as well. Light threatens Misa and then Rem threatens Light, all according to normal script.

_______

Mogi informs L of the fight in the burger restaurant, though he also supposes they have made up by now (Mogi: “Yeah... yeah... He just got a goodbye kiss on the cheek that I’d care massively aggressive.”) Mogi asks L who he should follows after the date. L tells him to follow Misa to find out who she is.

_______

Light and Ryuk discuss the situation. Nothing really interesting here except for sum-ups of the situation.

Light walks past a magazine and spots Misa on the cover of Eighteen.

______

Light comes home. Sayu immediately confronts him with the Eighteen issue. There is a whole feature on Misa in it, about her hobbies and what she’d like in a man (Sayu: “By the way, I don’t think you’re here type, but whatever.”), etc etc.  Light asks Sayu to keep quiet, she asks for the money just like in the manga.

Misa drops by for a visit that isn’t really explained, since they just got off their date.

______

Mogi informs L of this. 

______

Light and Misa go to his room.

LIGHT: You never told me you’re a model.

MISA: Just look at me! What else am I supposed to be? A car mechanic?

LIGHT: You didn’t think to at least bring it up once?

MISA: You never asked! Which, by the way, is so typically Boy. You only talked about yourself and your great plans and your important mission. You don’t even know my favorite color.

RYUK: Blue.

LIGHT: Blue. We read the article.

_______

Misa’s new Kira II tape plays. L figures out that the two Kiras are in contact now. L suspects Light a little less because Kira II didn’t insist on showing L on TV and he figures Light would want that. 

_______

Misa and Light walk in the park. Light talks Rem into agreeing to kill L for his and Misa’s happiness.

_______

Matsuda brings in forensics results for the newest tape. They found a blonde-dyed hair. L informs Soichiro that Light is Kira, if he dies in the next few days. Soichiro complains about none of L’s reasoning holding up in court.

L: Calm down, chief inspector. If I’m right, I’ll be too dead to care. I hope I’m wrong, and then you can call me an amateur next Friday instead.

_______

L shows up at campus again. Light makes a quip about having thought L would turn to dust in the sunlight. The rest of their conversation is close-ish to the manga.They go for a coffee.

______

The task force is in a surveillance van, spying on the campus. The only mention of L liking sweets is made here.

They suddenly have a stranger on their police channel, only taking a moment to figure out it’s Mogi, who is in the perimeter because he’s following Misa.

_____

WAITER: So here’s two coffees and the cookies. Would you also like a blueberry muffin?

L: Why would I want one?

WAITER: They’re on sale.

L: If I wanted one, I would have ordered one. 

LIGHT: Just don’t mind him, he’s not from here. 

WAITER: Not a problem, I’m just asking. 

L: No, you’re suggesting to me to order a blueberry muffin. Because you’ve got too many blueberry muffins.

LIGHT: That’s enough, L. Here.

Coins clink.

WAITER: Thank you.

LIGHT: As an apology for my friend here, who is being such an idiot.

L: Friend? I’m flattered. 

Light (sighs loudly): ... of course. Let’s just sit down here.

L: To still call me a friend after all I put you through so far...

LIGHT: Well, we’re similar in many ways.

L: Oh really?

The conversation is interrupted when Misa enters the cafeteria and approaches.

______

Ryuk and Rem sit in the university’s bell tower and talk about why their respective humans are here. Misa actually has a photoshoot directly at college here.

_____

Misa comes by, chattering.

MISA: Don’t you want to introduce us?

LIGHT: No.

MISA: Oh, don’t be so grumpy, darling. Hello, are you a friend of Light’s?

L: You could say so. I’m Hideki Ryuga.

L gives his usual spiel about liking Misa as a model, Misa is happy and then---

LIGHT: Her fans are losers.

MISA: Darling?!

LIGHT: I’m just saying. A lot of them are really batshit. She has to keep her private life secret.

Ah, so it’s an excuse for not telling L about her earlier. L lays it on thick and calls Misa his “favourite photo model” and Light his “best friend”. Then Misa gets spotted and the usual commotion happens. The waiter offers a free blueberry muffin to Misa.

_______

The task force in the van can’t see anything through the commotion. Mogi can’t get close either. 

_______

Misa’s manager comes to drag her outside. She is called “Miss Yoshi” consistently here, though Misa calling her ‘Yoshi’ in katakana and without honorific in the manga suggests a nickname. Especially since she’s from Yoshida Productions. Her real last name is likely Yoshida.

_______

L gives Mogi and co. the cue to arrest Misa. It’s kind of silly because now they all act like they have this defined plan involving Mogi? When earlier Mogi’s presence in itself was a surprise.

________

L goes to grab some cake, Ryuk comes into the coffee so Light has someone to talk about his plans to. Light tries calling Misa.

L talks to the waiter again.

WAITER: Okay, so two cheesecakes, one more coffee, would you maybe like a---

L: Look at me. Do I look like I do?

A phone rings.

WAITER: Are you going to pick up?`

L: Hello, darling. I can see who’s calling. Light, I know it’s you.

They briefly argue about how L got the phone, L informs Light of Misa’s arrest.

______

Misa on her photoshoot. We hear the cameraman give her directions for a while. Then the team suddenly swoops in to arrest Misa. They somehow publicly say she is arrested for  “resistance against the state, blackmail, and a conspiracy with the goal of killing people” and read her her rights. 

______

Rem comes to Light to blame him for Misa’s arrest and tell him to fucking fix it. 

______

There is an absolutely strange segment here of Soichiro talking to Yoshi, about Misa’s arrest. Yoshi strongly protests it, keeps pointing out that Misa is a minor, generally wants to know what Misa is even arrested for. She seems to have a small hunch that Misa is arrested for being a Kira suspect.

I’m not bothering to transcribe this scene though, since Yoshi literally never appears again after it, so this scene is just entirely pointless.

______

Misa in her cell. She’s panicked. Nothing of substance is said.

______

L talks about Misa’s containment position with Matsuda, since an audio drama listened can’t see it. 

______

Misa begging to be killed, wohoo. Rem talks her into giving up the notebook.

_____

Light buries the Death Notes in the park and hands one to Rem. She flies off.

_____

Misa lost her memories and now refers to L as a stalker. He is confused. It’s the same as the manga, really. L interrogates again.

_____

Light handed himself in to the police. He has an official interrogation by Mogi, which Soichiro angrily interrupts, but Light continues testifying. The actual testimonial is alike to the manga.

_____

Soichiro accuses L of driving Light mad, but eventually consents to Light being put under arrest, under the condition of also being under arrest.

_____

Ryuk complains about boredom in the cell. (”Repeated attempts at getting Light to play ‘I spy with my little eye’ were grandiose failures.”) Ryuk just narrates dramatically to relieve his boredom.

_____

Watari wonders how to punish Kira, if Light really has a split personality. How to punish Kira and reward Light, when they’re in the same body? 

L just wants to proceed according to plan and Watari just... “We’ve got a plan?”

_____

Ryuk snuck out to eat an apple and came back, because he can’t stand being in the cell anymore. Light gives up the Death Note, finally.

[arwenkenobi48]

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Ravenvale, Chapter 3

Word Count: 2407 Rating: This chapter: G; overall story: explicit Warnings: None at this time Summary: On their way home from another case, Agent Seaborne and Agent Roach find themselves in the strange, fog-covered town of Ravenvale. Notes: Seaborne and Roach AU where, years after the events seen in the YouTube series, they manage to become FBI agents.

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First Chapter Previous Chapter

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

Back in town, Roach found his lifelong friend at the Texaco station. Doug (at least, he assumed it was Doug) was just unhooking the tan rental car from the tow truck and Seaborne was staring at it, arms crossed, like he wanted to punch it in the face. If only it had a face to punch. Apparently the car needed more than a quick jump. 

Trotting up with a bit of a cheerful step, Roach approached his partner before tapping him on the arm. 

“What the scoop?” he asked when Seaborne turned around. His blue eyes were weary and his face hung low with stress. Maybe after they got back to North Carolina they could ask the higher ups for some vacation time. They certainly deserved it.

“No idea,” Seaborne huffed. “Jumping it did absolutely nothing.” He let out a quiet sigh, letting his arms fall as Doug came over to talk to them. 

“Don’t worry,” the mechanic began, a kind smile on his greasy face. ��Darrell will see what’s wrong. Darrell can fix anything.”

“It’s not whether he can or not that worries me,” Seaborne said, trying to be polite. His patience was clearly wearing thin. He checked his watch. “Our flight leaves in a few hours and I don’t even know how long it will take to get to the airport.” Unphased by the agent’s undertone of frustration, Doug kept smiling as he walked back towards the gas station store.

“Darrel can fix it,” he repeated, cheerfully. Seaborne clutched the bridge of his nose, groaning.

“I hate this town,” he muttered.

“It’s not all bad,” Roach offered. When his partner turned a less than friendly gaze his way, the blond quickly elaborated. “I did a little exploring while you were gone, and you won’t believe what I saw.”

“No, I probably won’t.” Not waiting for hear Roach’s story, Seaborne brushed passed him, following after Doug. He wanted to make sure that these strange brothers were getting to work on the car right away. He didn’t have time for any nonsense; he was already getting a headache. Following behind, Roach held his tongue. He so desperately wanted to tell his friend about the winged woman in the fog, but now wasn’t the time. He knew well enough that Seaborne wouldn’t want to hear any of it right now. Maybe later. Hopefully soon.

Inside, Seaborne spoke with Darrell again. The man was still grumpy and still looking through his magazine, but with very few words he assured the agents that he would look at the car presently.

“Any reason you can’t look at it now?” Seaborne asked, a hint of anger in his calm tone. Darrell paid no mind to the tone or the taller man’s urgency. He turned a page before answering in the same voice as before.

“On break,” he stated, and that was that. It did no good to explain how Seaborne and Roach needed to get to Vegas to make their flight. Still holding in the rage that was quickly building inside him, Seaborne finally stormed out of the station, Roach following behind him like a puppy.

“Why don’t we get lunch?” he offered, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe there’s a Denny’s or something?  Come on.” He tapped Seaborne on the arm nonchalantly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved, and I think we both need some Joe. Whaddaya say?” A cup of coffee did sound divine right now, and the caffeine would most definitely help. With a nod, Seaborne agreed and the two of them headed down the road to see what restaurants this odd town had, if any. 

~

The fog was as thick as ever, but luckily Roach had seen a small restaurant down the road on his previous journey through the small town. It was called ‘Ludere’ and it looked like a family-owned, ‘mom and pop’ kinda place. A quaint little establishment, it had a very welcoming vibe, with planters out front and striped awnings over the windows. The inside was lined with mauve booths, littered with tables and there wasn’t a single patron in sight. At this point the agents were almost getting used to there not being anyone around, still chalking it up to the fog. Surely no one wanted to go out in to the fog if they didn’t have to.

They two men passed the sign that read ‘seat yourself’ and found a nice big booth by the front windows. It gave them a wonderful view of the white fog still rolling by in the distance. Plus the light from outside provided more light than the dim overhead lamps that hung over their heads. It seemed like an okay place, if a bit cheap. Plastic tablecloths, paper napkins, and packets of condiments on the table didn’t fill Seaborne with any confidence about the quality of the food, and he hadn’t even seen the menu yet.

“Is anybody even working here today?” he grumbled. As if on cue, a woman in a red and white striped dress that barely reached her legs approached their table. She held up a notepad and pencil, smiling kindly if a bit blankly.

“Hiya there, my name’s Cindy.” She gave a wink to the agents. “What can I do ya for?” Roach hesitated, confused that they hadn’t been giving a menu yet.

“Cup of coffee,” he almost begged. “Please.” The woman scribbled onto her notepad.

“And for you, Sugar?” she asked Roach. The man struggled for a moment, trying to think about breakfasts he’d had in the past and ordered from places like this.

“Uh, can I get some eggs?”

“Sure. How would you like them cooked?”

“Scrambled, and um, some bacon… and pancakes, and some orange juice?” The waitress scribbled down some more.

“Anything else?”

“And a blueberry muffin!” Seaborne rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He was used to his partner eating enough for three. It was a wonder the tall man was able to stay so thin. Once Cindy was gone, he got to his feet.

“I need to piss. Try not to eat the table while I’m gone.” Roach ignored the crassness of Seaborne’s language and tried to keep things light. He Looked up at his friend with a big grin.

“No promises,” he said. His smile only faltered once his partner was out of sight. Then, he slumped in his chair, taking off his classes to clean them. Seaborne was never really as chipper as Roach, though it would be hard for anyone to do that, but today his mood was even more sour than usual. Roach certainly couldn’t blame him; things were going from bad to worse and he was probably still tired from last night’s long drive. A bit of caffeine would definitely help, but what he needed was a nice nap. Maybe after they ate, if the mechanics still had a lot of work to do on the car, the two of them could find something fun to do. Although, in this podunk town it didn’t look like there was much to do in the way of fun. 

Cindy came back with their drinks quickly, setting them down with practiced flair and grace. Roach thanked her immediately and she gave him a coy wink in return. This gave him paused; not because he legitimately believed she was flirting with him. He knew well enough the tricks of the waitress trade in getting better tips. No, it was more than that. Something about her face, the way she moved and winked… Roach was certain he had seen her around before, but how could that be? He’d never been in this city before. Yesterday was the first time even in this state. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling. 

Before she could saunter away again, he spoke up to get her attention.

“Hey, uh, have we met… before?” Cindy kept smiling, but tilted her head trying to think.

“I don’t think so, sweetie.” She shifted her weight to one hip, jutting it out and resting a delicate hand on top. “I think I would remember a handsome lad as yourself.”

“You ever make it out so far as the east coast?”

“Can’t say I have, sugar. I’ve lived in this town my whole life. Never really was one for travel’n.” Roach shrugged and let it drop. He had more pressing interests to ask about. 

“Let me ask you something else.” With a brief glance towards the bathroom, he leaned in close. “You seen anything… strange around here, recently? Maybe strange things in the fog?”

“I try not to go into the fog, if I can help it,” she admitted. “It’s not safe. Why? Did you see something?”

“I think I might have. I was out walking just down the road when I saw her: a fairy woman.” Intrigued, Cindy sat down across from him, in Seaborne’s empty seat. 

“Fairy? Well that is a sight, for sure. I’ve heard tales of tiny people in the fog from time to time, but I’ve never seen ‘em myself.”

“What have you heard?”

“Not much. I really never paid the stories any mind, but my uncle insists their true. He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen all about ‘em. He loves to talk about the little woman who dance in the fog.” Roach’s eyes lit up at the news. He couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe if he could get Seaborne to talk to this young lady’s uncle he could prove that what he had seen was real.

“Where can I find him?”

In the bathroom, Seaborne found at least some relief from his stress at a urinal. He didn't realize how badly he’d had to go until he was standing there, letting out what felt like a gallon of pee. It felt so good to be free of that burden he made a low moaning noise as he felt his bladder empty. Luckily there wasn’t anyone to hear, and he wouldn't have really cared if there had been. This was the first time in hours that something had actually gone right, and it was only a working toilet. The bar was set quite low.

As he washed his hands, he took notice of the bathroom’s decor, noting the severe lack of it. Not that he was expecting much, but there wasn’t even a mirror. The room had a few urinals, two stalls and a couple of sinks. Other than that and the soap dispenser, the room held nothing else. Seaborne grumbled as he wiped the excess water onto his pants, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. This whole town felt like it subsisted on the bare minimum, offering only what someone needed and nothing more. If this was the way the locals lived all the time, it was no wonder they weren’t out and about. They probably found life better in their own homes.

Heading back to the table, Seaborne finally cracked a smile as his eyes laid upon the plain, white cup at his seat. The dark liquid inside holding the promise of delicious flavor and refreshing warmth. Even if the coffee wasn’t that good, it was a welcome cup and a dearly needed beverage. Maybe with a little caffeine Seaborne could feel a bit more like his usual self. Sitting down he glanced at Roach, feeling a twinge of guilt for his own crappy behavior. It wasn’t Roach’s fault they were stuck here in this place, and he didn’t deserve the harsh tone from his friend. Taking his first sip, Seaborne promised to try to make things work, and lighten up a little, if only for his partner’s sake.

The coffee wasn’t half bad either.

“Oooh yes,” he sighed, leaning back. “This is what I needed.” Closing his eyes he thought he could feel the caffeine flooding into his brain. As the liquid went down into his stomach, it was as if it was pouring over his mind, waking it up, filling the tight corners and bringing him to life. “I am never going a morning without this ever again. Ever.” Seeing his friend visibly more cheerful, Roach’s smile returned with vigor.

“Glad to see your feeling better,” he noted. “Mind if I tell that story now?” Not opening his eyes, Seaborne mulled it over a few seconds, getting in the right mindset. He could guess with almost 100% certainty what Roach was going to say.

‘Either he saw the town locals up to no good, a creature in the fog, or men in black.’ To Roach he just said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

“It wasn’t that far down the road,” Roach began, trying to contain his excitement. “It was like a, uh… like a fairy. I could barely see it through the fog…”

‘Called it,’ Seaborne smirked to himself.

“It was short, like a kid but it had wings, clearish ones, like gossamer. She was dancing in the mist.”

“Did you say hi?”

“I didn’t get close enough to make contact,” Roach bemoaned. “She was only there for a few seconds then she disappeared. Now-” he lifted a finger and pointed it at Seaborne- “I know what you’re going to say. My eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. This time. I’m sure of it; I know what I saw.”

“A fairy. In the fog.”

“Yeah. Dancing.” Seaborne paused, taking another sip of coffee.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Roach scrunched his face, confused.

“Alright.”

“Wait, that’s it?” He held out his hands and Seaborne just shrugged. “Don’t you want to-”

“No, I don’t,” Seaborne interrupted, finally opening his eyes. “I don’t. Whatever it is, I don’t. I just want to sit here, drink my coffee, then get the fixed car from the mechanics and leave. I don’t want to investigate something that will tie us up any longer.” He set down the cup and looked over at his companion with a kind but tired expression. “I want to go home, Roach. I want to get on that stupid plane, and go home. Please.” Roach sighed, looking out the window at the fog, thick as ever. He wanted to argue, but this trip had done a number on them both. There wasn’t a single thing he could say that would change Seaborne’s mind, so he just stayed silent. For now. 

He knew it in his bones: there was definitely something else going on. 

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

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Vacationland

A/N  Written for the 50 States of Sex collaboration so brilliantly thought up by @viceversawrites and @softnow.  I picked Maine, since I just visited this summer.  Set during that vague timeframe that is post-Per Manum flashback, pre-Requiem.  A bit of angst, but hopefully just enough to add some depth to what is otherwise pretty much a fluffy PWP.  Rated NC-17, ‘natch.

It was possible that after many years of miscommunication, frustration and upset plans, it was time for Fox Mulder and Logan Airport to call it quits and go their separate ways.

He stared at the digital terminal display, lit up with row after row of on-time departures.   All except the last remaining flight to Bangor, which had been winking a smug fifty minute delay for the past three hours.   Outside their gate, the New England sky was a tint of robin’s egg blue only witnessed in early September when school was back in session.  He remembered it well.

He paced back to where his partner sat, poised and still, staring out the concourse window at nothing.  Her hands were folded in her lap as though in prayer, and he made a mid-second correction in course.

“I don’t think our plane is ever showing up, Scully.  It’s a regional carrier - maybe they only fly when it’s foggy enough.”

She didn’t react to his stand-up routine, so he took matters into his own hands and lifted the handle on her roller bag.  That got her attention.

“Mulder, what the hell?  This is our gate.  When the plane gets here, they’re not going to wait for us.”

“The plane’s not coming, Scully.  Let’s grab a rental car and drive up.  Bangor’s about four hours’ away on the interstate, and four hours in a moving vehicle will feel like heaven, after an afternoon in purgatory at Logan.”

She didn’t acquiesce, but she didn’t stay staring at the blank canvas of the sky either.  He considered that a win.

***

“This isn’t the interstate, Mulder.”

Scully had dozed off somewhere near the New Hampshire border, and he’d taken the next exit to the coast road.   They’d been averaging thirty miles an hour through one white clapboard hamlet after another since then.

“You’re very observant, Scully.  You should consider a career in law enforcement.”

“Very funny.  But seriously, where are we?  It’s 6pm - we should be nearly in Bangor by now.”   

Scully woke up grumpy.  He had years of experience devising counter-measures; everything from grande cups of her favourite dark roast to humorous observations of local law enforcement.  More recently, he’d developed a technique that included plucking her nipples like a harp and then anchoring his head between her thighs until she levitated, but he couldn’t very well do that and still drive.  He handed her a blueberry fritter, still warm in its brown paper bag.

“We’re not nearly in Bangor,” he ventured after she’d inspected the treat.

“I can see that.”  Her tone mellowed as she licked homemade lemon frosting from the tip of each finger.

“We’re actually closer to Wells.  I decided to take the scenic route.  We can grab a room here and still get to Bangor tomorrow in time for our ten o’clock interview.”  

He glanced in her direction, trying to judge how this change in plans was landing.   Scully could usually be counted on to let her strict professionalism lapse when he was the only witness, but she’d gone far inside herself these past few weeks, and he couldn’t blame her.  This was his first attempt to coax her back out of her shell.

“A room, Mulder?  A room, singular?  We’re on the clock.”   She was still prickly and resistant, however, and he found it endlessly heartening.   A passive Scully was no Scully at all.

“Well, that clock had us landing in Bangor five hours ago.  Right now, Agent Mulder and Agent Scully are sitting in their adjacent hotel rooms, chastely reviewing their case notes before retiring to their separate beds.   You and I are grabbing a room in Wells.  It’s September.  Any one of these little roadside motels will have a vacancy.”

“A roadside motel?  You really know how to treat a girl, Mulder.” 

He made eye contact and gave her his best attempt at a sexy grin.   He might know next to nothing about how to treat girls, plural, but he was the world’s leading expert on how to treat this one.

***

The little efficiency cottage was basic, but clean.  They changed out of their travelling suits and into casual clothes before walking, hand-in-hand, up the main road through town.

“What exactly are you looking for, Mulder?   These places all serve lobster.”

“Spoken like a true non-Yankee, Scully.   There’s lobster, and then there’s lob-stah.   I’ll know it when I see it.”

The restaurant had been there so long its shingle siding had weathered to a nondescript grey.  You ordered at a take-out window, then ate at a collection of ramshackle picnic tables, spread on a sloping lawn overlooking the estuary.

They sat on the same seat bench, facing the marsh that dimmed into darker and darker shadows of green as the setting sun released the day.  The lobster rolls were fresh and buttery, served with coleslaw and house-made pickles, and washed down by pints of pale blond beer.   It was, in his estimation, the perfect meal.

Scully’s left hand crept over and stole his last pickle.   Her hair was molten copper where the last rays of light caught it.   He took a deep breath of salt air, then exhaled.

***

“I would, Mulder, but I don’t have my bathing suit.   The hotel in Bangor - you know, the one where Agent Scully is staying right now - doesn’t have a pool.”

“Just go in your underwear.  It’s dark out, and I doubt there’ll be anyone else swimming at this hour.  This place empties out after Labour Day.”

He saw her struggle with propriety, and decided to stack the deck in his favour.  He stripped off his shirt and jeans.   He heard the little catch in her breath as he briefly bared his naked backside before donning his swim trunks.  

In the three weeks since the last IVF attempt had ended in a whirlpool of blood and tears, they hadn’t made love.  He was a psychologist, and he knew Scully was dealing with a lot of anger and ambivalence over her body’s failure to provide refuge for even one of their offspring.  He doubted she’d even noticed, but she’d ceased to trim her nails, hadn’t gone to the gym, and her roots were growing in: all signs that she was denying her body loving care in the way it had denied her a child.  So her reaction to his nakedness, no matter how minute, was reassuring.

“Oh, alright.  But if I get arrested for public indecency, I’m taking you and those ridiculous board shorts down with me!”

***

The small fenced pool was tucked between the line of cottages and a copse of pine trees.  You couldn’t see the ocean, but you could make out the dull thrum of its eternal give and take.   A single flood light triggered by a motion sensor lit the shallow end, and the water itself glowed aquamarine from a series of underwater lights.

Scully was wrapped in one of the motel’s scrawny bath towels.   She looked furtively towards the curtained windows that overlooked the pool.  Other than their own, none of the cottages showed signs of habitation, so she slowly released the tuck of the towel and draped it over the fence.

She had lost weight.  He could see it in the sharp nip of her waist and the loose fit of her panties.  Still, she was pale and lovely as the moon, and he was struck anew by the juxtaposition of tenderness and lust she brought out in him.  Thinking a tented swimsuit might betray his intentions, he jumped feet first into the deeper end of the pool, appreciating the coolness against his heated skin.

“How is it?”   Cautious as ever, Scully was descending the steps slowly, and he grieved the slow disappearance of her body until he realized the underwater illumination acted like an aqueous spotlight, lighting her up from below.

“Come over here and find out,” he beckoned her towards the deeper water.

She dove fluidly beneath the surface, re-emerging two feet in front of him like a modern-day naiad, cedar-hued hanks of hair and eyes bluer than the sky that afternoon.

“Mmmm, this was a good idea, Mulder.  Thank you.”  She brushed against him, skin polished and warm, and dropped a chlorine kiss on his lips.   He tried to pull her closer, but she pushed hard against the wall and floated away with a laugh.

They paddled languorously as the curious moon rose above the pines.  The floodlight had long subsided into darkness.   Scully drifted easily on her back, nipples and pubic hair umbra signals to his baser self through the opaque cotton covering.  His cock twitched in the loose confines of his trunks, despite the coolish water.  He could feel the tug of something primeval, dark and instinctual, coming from the endless wilderness to the north.  This is your mate, it said.

As she drifted within reach, he pulled her easily into his embrace, kissing the damp from her eyelashes and cheeks.  She settled her arms over his shoulders, light as a feather in the water’s buoyancy.

“I love kissing you, Scully,” he murmured between pecks.  She chuckled at his juvenile admission.

“Yes, I got that impression.   I love kissing you too, Mulder.”  She licked his chin, to emphasize her point.  He growled and initiated a hungrier kiss, holding her  against him in the the ebb and flow of a subtle current, where she could certainly feel the physical proof that he wasn’t exaggerating.

“Is this okay?” he asked as he made his way down her arched neck, one hand now gripping her ass beneath the clinging fabric of her panties.

“Mmm, very okay.  I missed this.  Even when everything else feels wrong, you’re the only thing that still makes sense, Mulder.”  She gasped out his name as he nipped her earlobe.

“That’s how I know you’re my one in five billion.  You’re the only person who’d ever assert that I make sense,” he teased.

“What I don’t understand is why I make sense to you.  Especially now...”

“Oh, Scully.  Are you serious?  You mean besides the fact that you’re the most stunning woman alive, and you put up with all of my shit?  How about this - you’re the only person who already is what I want my future to be.”

She leaned back and observed him, limpid and wet, as though measuring the truth of his statement.  Then, holding his head very still between her ragged fingernails, she kissed him deeper than all the oceans combined.  

By the time they broke for air, they were mindlessly thrusting together, the surrounding water adding an erotic slickness to their movement.

“God, I want you.  Is it too soon?” he gasped.

“No. I don’t think so.  It’s okay.  Let’s go back to the room.”   She was panting like a frightened animal and pawing at the waist of his shorts.

“Mmm, no.  Here.  God, Scully.”  This as her hands finally worked the knot at his waistband loose and dove inside to grab his cock.

“Mul-derrrrrr, we can’t.  Bacteria, lubrication.  C’mon.” She nodded towards the stairs, trying to encourage him into shallower water.

“I know what I’m doing.  You trust me, don’t you Scully?”

Without waiting for her response, he lifted her even higher in the water, so her crotch rubbed his navel.  He shunted his shorts downwards until they dropped to his ankles and he flicked them away.   Tucking her knees beneath his armpits, he lifted the gusset of her panties out of the way, then slid his aching cock into the tight hot space between cotton and skin.

“Like this.  See?  Like this.  Outside.  Oh shit Scully.”  He was frantic already, the head of his cock sliding up the seam of her body, over her clit and then against the elastic membrane of her underwear.  It felt amazing.

“Jesus, Mulder.  Where did you...? Nevermind.  Just keep, yeah.  Ohmygod yeah.”   She had her elbows braced on the pool deck, her torso leaning away from him to create just the right angle for each exquisite slide.   Her head fell limply backwards, chin tipping towards the night sky as she moaned so deeply he felt it inside his body.

“Fuck, Scully.  So good, baby.  So fucking good.”

He wasn’t going to last at this rate.  He looked into the water to see the obscene bulge of the head of his cock advancing and retreating beneath the cotton’s opaque skin.  Shit, that wasn’t helping.   One hand dove down, pushing himself even deeper into her slit with each thrust, letting the ridge stroke over her hood until she let out a sharp yelp and began thrashing against him in ecstasy, stirring up a tiny tempest of waves between them.

“That’s it, Scully.  Fucking come for me.  Come on me.”

He grasped himself through the material, gave two quick tugs, and released what felt like a thousand lifetimes of fervour onto her skin.  His agonized groan tapered off to a whispery chuckle.

“Fuck, I have the best ideas.”

***

Showered and tucked into bed, pink and boneless, he thought Scully was already asleep when she asked,  “Do you really see your future in me, Mulder?  Even now?”

He tightened his hold around her shoulders, tucking the damp crown of her head beneath his chin.

“They say the only thing that can make sense of the past is the future, Scully.  You’re the only answer I want to find.”