#but then he set me up at blank wall with bad lighting and i was like oh ok

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[lexkent]

an old professor asked me to be the videographer for some interviews today, and it's been a few years so I was nervous but had some ideas on what I wanted to do, but then he set me up to shoot the subject right in front of a plain white wall with extremely poor lighting and I should've spoken up and shared my ideas, but I didn't and this footage I have to edit and turn in is grainy Hot Garbage and I'm so ashamed it's not even funny

[toxicanonymity]

Let me stay awake.

7.2k, vampy!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist | playlist SUMMARY: Joel tries to take better care of you and plans a date night in. Next time he takes your blood, it feels amazing. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap (440s to 20s-50s), reader is in captivity, angst, hurt/comfort, dark fluff, POV alternates (twice?), a lot of character dev in the first half, a former blood donor joins the cast, chains, shackles, ankle collar, dry humping, groping, perfectly timed ejaculation. Captivity dubcon. SERIES IMMERSABILITY: Reader can menstruate, be lifted by vampire Joel, and has no allergies.

After Joel took your period, you told him he was doing a bad job taking care of you, which was true. But he did a good job at something. You slept like a baby. He was back with when you woke up. Now he’s sitting next to you on the mattress, back against the wall. Against his thighs, he’s holding a pen on top of a book that looks ancient.  He adjusts his glasses and opens the book. The pages are blank, discolored, and thick. Some have been ripped out. He takes the cap off his pen and asks, “What’d ya have at your old house that we don't have here?” then rests his hand on the page to write. His hand dwarfs the page, and you feel a surge of desire recalling his sounds of pleasure. No, you don’t want him, you tell yourself, as if you didn’t fantasize about him on your way to sleep.

“Freedom,” you answer, and he winces. 

He closes the journal with the pen keeping it partly open, then he turns toward you. “If ya just gimme a chance, sweetheart. . . I'm really gonna do my best. . .” 

When you stay quiet, he says, “Ya know. I think one day, we’ll get there.” 

“Get where?” 

“Outside, out in the world together.”

“Really?” 

He nods. “That walk we took was nice, right?”

“What walk?”

“Through the alley, that first night, when I walked ya to your car?” Right. . .what a gentleman. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Now your mind is drifting back to the way he gently pushed you against the brick wall to kiss you on that walk. Did he already know what he was going to do to you when he first pressed himself against you? 

His eyes are earnest.  “It can be like that again,” he nods.  “Just need a little time.”

You nod. 

He clears his throat, opens the journal, and picks up his pen. “So what do you need?” 

Your stomach twists. Answering would feel like resigning yourself to some dark fate. “I'm not gonna help you keep me prisoner,” you mumble. 

“Prisoner?” He dips his head and his brow furrows. “God, no,” he softly reassures you. He reads your face, then stares into the mattress and swallows.

You rephrase, “Well I’m not gonna help you keep me.” 

He looks you over with pleading eyes.  “I'm gonna go out for a while, okay? Can I get ya anything?”

There are things you need, but you still can’t bring yourself to acknowledge you’re there for the long haul. So you shake your head no. He goes to get the chain from the floor.

“Hate doin’ this,” he mumbles. “‘s’just for now.” He drags the chain over and lifts the sheet to expose your feet. He sees the scrapes and irritation on your ankle. “Shit,” he shakes his head at himself. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Stupid,” he mumbles at himself as he gets up.  He goes upstairs and takes the tray from breakfast with him.  He returns with the same tray. It’s holding a pair of his own wool socks in a fair isle pattern, a paper bag, and a translucent teal bottle full of water. “Lunch,” he says as he sets the tray down next to you. He puts the socks on you, and they're toasty. Then, he puts the cuff on over the sock. “Little better?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Good,” he whispers. 

— JOEL —

He’s gotta do something about that chain. He’s about to lay down on the sofa to think, but when he moves a decorative pillow out of the way, he feels a rush of shame. “Oh my god,” he whispers. He’s so stupid. How did he not think to give you a pillow? He goes straight to a guest bedroom. The tall, oak door creaks as he opens it. The light from the window nearly blinds him. He blocks it with his forearm as he hurries over to close the heavy curtains.  He sneezes. He picks up an old pillow off the bed and fluffs it. Dust swarms around. There's no way he's giving you that. This whole room has a sad vibe. But he could make you a different room, maybe. His wheels start turning as he goes back downstairs - he has ideas for what room he could use, and what he could do with it. 

He says your name as he descends the final steps. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking,” he apologizes as he crosses the room.  He hands you the pillow and assures you he'll get a better one. Then he goes back upstairs.

After a little research, he packs a leather, cross-body bag and checks the weather. “Damnit,” he grumbles to himself.  Cool but no cloud cover. If it were another sunny day, he’d stay home, but this is too important. He puts on a scarf and grabs his parasol from the coat closet and tucks it under his arm as he pulls on his gloves. He’d rather endure the strange looks than come home without the energy to take care of you. 

-

-

Joel’s first stop is an erotic boutique. It's been a long time since he was anywhere like this. The mannequins in mesh bodysuits and strappy leather catch his eye on the way in, and he almost forgets what he came for. He can't help but imagine you wearing some of these things, but he'd rather just see you naked. 

He slowly makes his way through the store. Should he get you a toy? It seems like sexual health would be a basic need. No, he decides. It might make you uncomfortable. He doesn't want to assume, and doesn't want to invade your privacy. Plus, he has to be careful. He doesn’t want you to think this is all just to get him off. He knows how it feels to be fetishized.

“Can I help you?” Someone asks. Joel turns around and squints through his transition lenses at the worker’s face, then their name tag. Craig.  Where does Joel know him from?  Joel stays home a lot, but not as much as one might think. He needs some kind of social contact. 

Craig interrupts Joel’s thoughts, “You’re the one with the mansion, right?”

Joel chuckles. “Uhh, I dunno if–”

“Oh, sorry,” Craig  holds his hand up. “Ya know what? I must be thinking of someone else.” His lie is an unconvincing attempt to allow Joel his anonymity after the slip-up. He probably thinks Joel is in disguise. 

“No, no, it’s okay, man. I was just gonna say. I wouldn’t call it a. . . mansion,” Joel feels stupid as he finishes the sentence. 

“Okay,” Craig concedes with a playful eye roll.  “The house with the Christmas party” 

Oh, God. Joel hadn't even thought about his party. It's gotta be small this year, if it happens. Maybe it would be nice. Joel pictures you in a fancy dress sitting next to him at the table. He imagines having someone to kiss at midnight. 

“New year’s, “ Joel corrects him and sticks out his hand. “Joel.” 

“Right, right.” Craig shakes Joel’s hand and asks, “Friend of the Fishers, right?” 

Joel snaps his finger, “Yes! Right. You're in David's choir.” Another thing Joel forgot. His life has revolved around you ever since you stepped into it.  You're all he thinks about.  Joel starts to apologize, “Look, I dunno if I'm gonna make the Christmas concert this year, it snuck up on me.”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Craig reassures him with a wave of his hand. “Can I help ya find anything?” 

“Yeah, uh, it said online y’all have some cuffs and chains and stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Craig nods. “Come with me.” He guides Joel to a back wall covered in all sorts of contraptions. “Looking for anything in particular?” 

“Yeah, something really comfortable and secure.”

–

As Craig rings up Joel’s purchase, Joel silently worries if this is going to work. 

“Want me to show ya how the lock works?” Craig asks. 

 “Uhh, sure,” Joel says. 

Craig takes the leather cuff out of the package and demonstrates the metal lock. He dangles the two keys. “One for you, and one for them,” he smiles. 

“And both cuffs have the same key?”

“Yep,” Craig nods. 

The cuff seems comfortable–the inside is suede and there's metal over the leather-–but Joel wonders if it's secure enough. What if you get away and he never sees you again? He looks at the metal loop on the cuff.

“Hey,” Joel asks and scratches his neck. “Y’all don't have any, uh, ID tags or anything do ya?”

“ID tags?” 

“Like the little metal ones that hang on a loop.”

“Ohhh, like for a collar.” Craig raises his eyebrows. 

“Or for this?” Joel asks, holding up a cuff. 

“Cool,” Craig nods as if Joel is an innovator.  “Gimme one sec.” 

Craig goes out to a nearby shelf and comes back with a few collars that have their own tag – mostly hearts, either blank or with something generic like princess. “This is all we got.”

“Y’all do engraving here?” Joel asks. 

“No. . .But if ya only need the tag, and it's gotta be engraved, I can tell ya where to go.”

–

When Joel is done with his next stop, he opens his leather bag and slips the metal tag into a zippered pocket. Damn, he thinks.  He doesn't even know your favorite color. He hopes you’re okay with a black heart. Certainly better than a bone shape. He starts his car and heads toward the library. 

-

When Joel walks into the library, he politely nods at the information desk, then heads to the computers. He sits down at one in the back row. He takes his gloves off, pulls his journal and a pen out of his bag, then logs onto the computer. He searches the catalog and the internet. What do you need? Food, water, shelter, this all seems obvious. What do you want? Freedom, he can hear you saying it. How much can he give you? How can he make you stay? How can he make you understand how much he cares? He retrieves a book and opens his journal to make some notes.

-

Joel puts down his pen, looks over his notes, then takes off his glasses, and rubs his eyes. He wishes you’d talk to him. What do you really want? 

He whispers your name out loud. “God I wanna make you happy.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He has a headache. The sun is catching up with him. He shouldn’t have gone out today. He should go home. When he opens his eyes, he puts his glasses back on. Someone is approaching. He swiftly locks the computer screen and closes his notebook. 

“Joel.” It’s a kind, grandmotherly voice.

“Carol,” Joel smiles, and leans back as casually as he can. 

“You alright there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joel nods, trying not to wince. She looks at the empty computer screen and closed notebook. 

“Okay, well, you know where to find me, dear.” 

“Great sweater, by the way,” Joel tells her. “Perfect color. Really makes your eyes pop.”  

“Oh, Joel,” she coyly pats down her white curls. “Thank you, dear--OH, Christy asked if you came in. Do you want me to get her?” 

Joel didn’t even think about her on his way in. He feels a twinge of guilt for silencing her call, ignoring her text. 

“Joel?” Carol asks, looking concerned. 

He snaps out of it and feigns a little smile. “Uh, no. No, thank you. Don't bother her.”

“Okay,” Carol says in a sing-song voice. “I'll leave you to it then.” She smiles and walks away. 

��

So she was expecting him. Oh, shit - he thinks through his mental calendar - Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Warmth rises to his cheeks. It’s been so long since he’s felt his cheeks get warm. It must be something in your blood.  Not only has Joel taken blood from Christy, but she’s been his wingman before. They'd go out somewhere, and he'd listen to her drone on and on–she never took a breath–about  her armchair detective community. 

She’s always been a little too into the whole situation. If Joel thanked her for her help, she’d beam, “Any time.” She wasn't with him the night he met you. He wasn't on the hunt. But you smelled special, and he couldn't physically resist. 

Joel hears Christy greet someone. He can't dodge her, he just has to hope she walks on by.  He picks up his leather bag and puts it in his lap. He rifles through it until he finds a stick of menthol balm. 

“There he is,” Christy calls. 

Too late. He stuffs the menthol back in his bag without using it. He looks up, and she’s paused in the middle of the library with one hand on her hip and her eyes wide, even wider than usual.  

“Hey, Chris.” 

She hurries over. “So you are alive,” she teases with her arms crossed, then tilts her head, widens her eyes, and whispers, “figuratively speaking.” She laughs at her own joke. 

She knows as much about him as anyone alive. It's made a big difference having a friend who knows. This has been one of Joel’s better eras, but the era he’s moving into with you will be lightyears better. And it’ll be more than an era. 

“Kinda late,” she cringes lightheartedly. 

“Oh, no, no, none for me. I’m good, thanks. Sorry, I’ve uh – I’ve gotta go.” 

He stands up and puts his bag on.  She’s gonna know something’s up. He scratches the back of his neck, weighing whether to break down and tell her everything so she can help him know how to make you comfortable and happy. Plus, he just wants to talk about you. He wants to tell the world. But today he has one priority: taking care of you. 

“Waait a second,” Christy says knowingly, studying his face. “You’re glowing. You just got some good stuff, didn't ya?” She playfully punches Joel’s arm.  “Good for you,” she beams, then raises her eyebrows and lowers her voice. “Bet it was menstrual, O positive.”

“The blood type doesn't–”

“--You say that, but if you’d let me do my experiment. . .Oh! We’ve got some new microfilm downstairs. 1880s, if you can believe it.” 

“Not today,” Joel replies a little too quickly if he doesn’t want her prying.  

Her lips form a line and her eyebrows go up, then she shrugs it off. “Okay, mister. Hey, can you still take care of Cal next weekend? Nat and I are–”

“--Uh, yeah,” Joel starts to walk off. “If you can drop her off.�� You might enjoy the cat’s company.

“Joel!” Christy calls after him. “Don’t forget this!” She’s holding his parasol. 

–

Next, Joel stops by the hardware store to get some supplies to secure you more comfortably. He’s sure he’s forgetting something, but this is a good start, and there’s always delivery. He doesn’t want to leave the house again this week. Thankfully, the hardware store is next to a Walmart, which has groceries, clothes, and pillows. He gets you some loungewear, socks, and new bedding. It’s the least he can do.

—--

When Joel gets home, he brings you four different pillows and some bedding. 

“Wasn’t sure what firmness.” 

He unlocks you and shows you the socks and lounge clothes. “These looked comfortable. Here, I can help. . .”

“I can do it,” you tell him. 

“Right.”  He turns around. While you’re changing, he says, “Let's order in tonight. Too tired to get anything started.”  

“I’m not hungry yet,” you tell him.

Then he shows you the new cuffs and chain. He rings the heart shaped tag onto one cuff, then puts it around your ankle. “Better?”

The chain is much lighter.  “Yeah, I guess,” you admit. “What’s this?” You look at the tag. 

“Oh I dunno, I just–I started worryin’.” 

You stare at him blankly. 

“I dunno, just in case.” 

“In case what?”

He swallows. “If ya. .” He looks around. He doesn't wanna say it out loud.  “If ya left. . . so ya could . . . I dunno, get back.”

Now there’s a hint of pity and bewilderment in your eyes. 

“It was stupid, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and manages a small smile. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be right upstairs.” 

-

When he gets upstairs, he looks at his phone and has a message from Christy. His stomach drops when the picture loads. It’s his search history about taking care of adult human women and what makes them stay.

“God damnit,” he curses himself. Of course he didn’t clear his search history. He didn’t even log off. She's typing. She stops, then starts again, and he presses the heels of his palms into his temples. What now? Should he call her? She wouldn't tell anyone, but – Her message comes through with a woosh: “this is what librarians are for.”

“Ha," he scoffs with the slightest smile. He shakes his head and turns the screen off without answering.  He should be relieved, but can’t help but worry. He's seen her at her worst. God, he hopes that was her worst.  What does she want?

Another message comes in: “let me help you."

Of course that’s what she wants. Funny enough, he’s seen her at her worst specifically when she was trying to help. But it’s still tempting, because she’s smart and resourceful. She could tell him everything there is to know about you within an hour. He’d love to know what kind of clothes you’d like, your favorite foods, how to make you happy. But for now, he’s doing alright on his own. He doesn’t text back. 

-—You—

A while after Joel goes upstairs, you hear drilling, then clanking, metal jingling, things being dropped. 

Later, he brings you dinner. He doesn’t eat, but he sits with you.  Then, after you’re done, he faces you, cross-legged on the mattress.  He’s wearing his glasses and has his journal again. There are handwritten notes in it. From upside down, you can see the words “buy” and “do.” Some items are crossed through.

“I was thinkin’,” he studies the page, then looks up at you. “Ya might need a bed.” He looks at your face for confirmation.   “Right?” he asks. Wow, he really wants an answer. 

“I mean. . . yeah, I sleep in a bed, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Okay, I’m workin’ on a room for ya.”

For the next few days, he’s hard at work. 

—----

He comes downstairs one evening around dinner time and says,  “I was thinkin’, maybe we could watch a movie or somethin’.”

“Here?”

“Uh, no sweetheart. I was thinkin’, if ya wanna come upstairs for dinner, then maybe, after that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“Okay.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. Great.” He goes to the other end of the chain and takes a key out of his pocket to unlock the cuff from the floor.  As he's doing it, he mumbles, “You can, uh, pick the movie. If ya want.” The chain is sliding around on the mattress as he fiddles with the cuff. When the cuff is free from the hook, he puts it around his wrist, then locks it. Your breath hitches. He sees you looking at his wrist. 

“Don't wanna get separated,” he chuckles sheepishly, then puts a hand on your wrist. “Want yours here?” 

“Yeah.” 

He moves the leather cuff from your ankle to your wrist, and it's nice to feel his hands on yours as he fastens it. He smells good. Fresh, woodsy. He opens his palm and takes your hand to help you up. He holds the slack of the chain as the two of you walk upstairs. 

—

It's a large room with high ceilings. It's dark, but cozy. A fire is lit. There are plants, lots of plants. And bookshelves in the walls. He takes you through the main room, to a dining room with a huge table already set for two.  He offers you the head of the table and pulls out the chair for you. He lets the slack of the chain pool between your chairs, and you're both still wearing a cuff on your wrist. 

 You eat mostly in silence, which makes the jingling of the dog tag deafening when you move that hand. He asks where you’d like to travel. You’d love to just travel outside, down the driveway, but you humor him with more ambitious places.

The space is lit with gas candelabras, and it’s hard not to admire his handsome face and the way his eyes sparkle in the candlelight. Sometimes a flicker catches the silver in his beard just right.

After dinner, he takes you back to the main room. There's an oversized sofa with a large, soft blanket draped over it and pillows like the one Joel brought downstairs. There's a big, square ottoman. There's also a side table with two clean, empty wine glasses. The sofa faces the fireplace, which is quite wide, and there’s a screen mounted above it. Joel offers you a glass of wine, and you accept but won’t drink much of it. He starts the movie.

-

Joel puts his arm around you while you watch the film. The chain lightly clinks against itself as he strokes your shoulder, then your arm, and you feel yourself melting. He arranges the pillows and asks if you want to lie down. You do. He spoons you, with his free hand resting over your body. His chained hand is under the pillow, and it finds yours as the movie goes on. Your fingertips brush, and you don’t pull away. Then he fully rests his hand on yours. 

The hand draped over your side gradually begins to wander. He slowly, lightly strokes your side. . .then your hip. . . then your stomach, over your clothes. His breath deepens. His light, meandering touch makes you weak with desire and lulls you half asleep. 

“Thanks for being here,” he whispers. He kisses the nape of your neck. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” He kisses your hair. “But it'll be worth it.” His light touch continues, and you begin to tingle. “Won’t be stuck here forever. . .we’ll travel the world one day.”

His hand travels higher on your body as he moves it in loose circles, until he’s skimming the bottoms of your breasts. His palm grazes the outline of your hard nipple, and a hard shape twitches against your ass. You don’t flinch, but you inhale sharply through your nose, trying to suppress a wave of desire. 

Joel pulls his hips back and tucks the blanket between you, to your secret disappointment. Then he props his head up to admire you. “So many things I wanna do with you,” he murmurs, running his massive hand down your side again where he started. “And for you,” he whispers, draping his hand over your lower belly. Then, barely audible, so quiet you might be imagining it, “and to you.” He puts his head back down on the pillow and inhales your hair, skimming your top with his fingers.

His hand nudges under your lounge top, then his fingertips slip into your waistband ever so slightly, and you’re throbbing.  His fingertips skim your bare belly, dipping a little further into your pants. 

He asks, “You okay from. . .”

Your heart rate quickens. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“I can check,” he quietly offers. “Make sure I got it all.”

“Ok,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he slides his hand down your lounge pants. You’re not wearing underwear. You gasp softly as his fingers reach your clit. He pauses there, and an involuntary push of his hips lets you feel him through the blanket before he pulls back again. His fingertips get lower, then hook between your legs, and he softly gasps when he reaches your wetness. He runs his fingers through your folds, then uses his massive hand to hold the waistband open while he peeks at his fingers. 

“You did,” you whisper. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shoulda waited, though. I wasn too rough. Shoulda let it happen.” He lets the waistband close over his wrist and cups your  mound.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, closing your eyes, embarrassed at the whole situation. Now he knows how wet you are. 

His middle finger twitches and nudges your clit, then begins nudging it rhythmically. Soon, it evolves toward a more deliberate, pleasure-focused rub, and he inhales deeply, chest expanding against your back. 

“I think I should go to sleep,” you whisper, overwhelmed. His finger stops moving, but his hand stays in your pants.  

Joel offers, “Might sleep better if–” 

“Not tonight.”  You twist your hips away from his, already hating yourself for cutting this off, but knowing you’d judge yourself for continuing. 

He slowly withdraws his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Somethin’ came over me.” 

On the way downstairs, he tells you again, “I’m workin’ on a room for ya. Just gimme a couple days.” 

He chains you back to the floor, then makes up the mattress with a new set of bedding and a comforter. He tucks you in, and leans over you. He wets his lips, looking at yours. You look away. He kisses you on the cheek, soft and slow. Somehow, it feels just as sensual as if it were your mouth.

“Night, sweetheart.” 

—-

The next evening, your room is finished.  He brings you upstairs and shows you what he’s done. It’s an actual bedroom, with a nice, roomy bed. There’s a reading nook with a big, comfy chair and a wall of books.  It’s dim, of course, but he shows you how to use the dials to remotely adjust the flames of the candelabras and chandelier. There’s a window with a curtain. It has steel bars, but at least it’s there. There’s a closet with clothes and some packages not yet opened.  There’s even a fireplace. 

“And here’s the best part,” he says excitedly, gesticulating in a way that makes the chain between you jingle. He brings you outside the bedroom and closes the double doors. There are two dark panels that create a heart where the doors meet.  “Check it out.” He retrieves a key from his pocket, and locks the door from the outside. It’s a heavy, satisfying click. He looks at you like you’re going to be excited. “So you can take this off,” he explains, holding up the chain. 

-----

You see Joel more often once you’re out of the basement. He’s happy to have you close, and you’re glad to have the accommodations. But you’re also confused, and a little depressed. You crave his presence and his touch in a way you know is unhealthy. You know it must be because he’s all you have right now, but your heart tells you there’s more to it. The whole situation has felt like a dream, and maybe that’s how you’ve coped. But the longer it lasts, the more real it feels.

One night, it catches up with you and you have a good cry. You try to be quiet. You try to stop, but you can’t. So you let it go, you just sob. 

After a while, you hear the heavy lock, and the massive door opens just enough for Joel to come in. He closes it behind him, then stands there rubbing his beard.  He looks at you like he’s lost, then cautiously approaches. 

“Hey,” he whispers. He sits down on the bed. You’re curled up, facing him. You don’t turn away. He strokes your arm, and you cry harder. “Oh, sweetheart.” His eyes are sad. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He knows. He lies down, facing you. He hugs you into him and you cry into his soft t-shirt, inhaling his scent with every gasp for air.  “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

You close your eyes, wanting him to kiss you, and you’re disturbed by your own desire.  You pinch your lashes shut harder, and your whole face tenses. It hurts.

“This isn’t okay,” you sob. “It’s not gonna be.” You try to push him away, but he holds you still. After all the times he’s folded, apologized, and backed off, that’s not what he does. He holds you in his arms, making you stay there. “What are you doing,” you whine, and you push at his chest. He doesn’t budge. You half-heartedly hit and kick at him, and he cages you with his leg, too. It soothes you, like a weighted blanket, but you fight it. 

“Shhhh,” he holds you tight. His voice is deep and quiet against the top of your ear. “We’re gonna be happy one day,” he insists. “Promise, sweetheart.” You exhaust yourself crying, and he holds you. “I love you.” You try to ignore it, but that doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Soon you’re nuzzling your head into his neck, gripping his shirt in a fist like you don’t want him to go. He drapes a heavy blanket over both of you. He holds you like that until you fall asleep and your fist releases his shirt. He stays a little longer, then kisses you on the forehead and leaves. 

—--

The next afternoon, Joel approaches you and sits down on the edge of the bed. “How ya feel? Ya look good,” he whispers, and cups your cheek. You don’t shrug him off. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, wishing he would lie down with you again, but not wanting to invite him. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks. 

“I don't care,” you answer.  

He sits there in silence and places a hand on your knee. 

“Got ya somethin’,” he murmurs, and stands up for a moment. He appears to get nervous as he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a shallow, velvet jewelry box. He sits down again and holds the box out for you to take, but you don’t. He opens it for you. It’s a necklace. He tells you what the stone is. It’s your birthstone. It’s thoughtful, but he only knows your birthday because he has your wallet. He faces you and puts his hands around your neck as he puts the necklace on, getting his face close to yours so he can see the clasp. With his temple nearly brushing yours, you feel a surge of want. There’s no denying it. The scruff of his cheek scratches you lightly as he finishes fastening the necklace. “There,” he says, and looks at you adoringly.

“Thanks.” 

“You’re one of a kind, ya know.” 

He wets his lips and you notice they’re chapped, dehydrated. He’s pale. You find yourself wanting to hug him, kiss him, but you don’t. He kisses you on the cheek. 

—

One night, Joel makes you a special dinner. He cuffs the two of you together, and you eat in the dining room at the big table with him again. He tells you he needs your blood again. “I don’t have to take much,” he says. “It can be tomorrow,” he offers. “Don’t wanna spring it on ya.” 

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “You need it.” And the truth is, you want it. You want him to take it. You want to be taken back to that moment against your car. You want something that overwhelms your senses and puts you on another plane. You need something to remind you that you aren’t just a girl in a room, and he’s not just some guy keeping you there. If you can physically feel all of that, maybe you can let yourself relax. 

After dinner, he brings you back to your room and unchains you. You sit on the bed. He turns on the fireplace and tells you he’lll be right back. When he returns, he has an old medicine bottle with a cloth. He wets the cloth and says, “I’ll lay with ya, til ya wake up, okay?”

You look at the cloth in his hand and say,  “You don’t have to put me to sleep.” He adjusts the cloth in his hand. “Don’t,” you shake your head. 

His brows knit, and he reads your eyes for a few seconds. 

“Let me stay awake,” you plead. 

“You sure?”

You nod. He closes the bottle again and puts it on your nightstand. 

“Thought it scared ya,” he mumbles. 

“Well it did, when it was a surprise.” 

He nods solemnly. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. I really shoulda. . . I don’t even know.”  If he had asked, you wonder if you would have let him. Surely not, so you can’t exactly blame him. 

-

“Okay,” he looks you over and gets on the bed with you. “You warm enough?” He nudges the cardigan you’re wearing. 

“Yeah,” you nod, and shrug it off. You’re cozy enough from the fire.

“C’mon, let’s get up here.” He guides you up the bed and gets you to lay down with your head on a pillow as if you’re going to sleep. 

He gets close to you, and starts lightly stroking your shoulder as he looks you over. His eyes glue to your neck, and he wets his lips, then he pulls his eyes back to yours. 

“You can choose,” he offers. “Where I take it.” 

You bite your lip as you watch his face and inhale his scent. 

“I can take it here again,” he caresses your neck. Then he holds your arm and lightly brushes his thumb across where you’d normally get an IV, giving you an unexpected surge in arousal.  “Or here.” 

He checks your face, then lays his hand on your waist. His palm skims your side, down your hip. “Or,” he runs his hand up your thigh under your dress. His thumb caresses your thigh, right near your pelvis, and he whispers, “I can take it here.” You’re nearly overwhelmed with desire already. 

“I dunno,” you whisper. 

He gently rolls you onto your back. He takes a deep breath, scoots down the bed, and gets between your thighs. He nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose, then whispers, "up to you, sweetheart."  You're throbbing.

“Tell me what feels right,” he murmurs and nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose.  His hair is fluffy and his eyes are dark and sparkly as he looks up at you. “God, you’re . . .” He reaches up and wraps a hand around your arm. “You’re perfect.” 

“Where do you want?” you ask. 

“Everywhere, anywhere. I want every inch of you.” 

You allow yourself a little smile and hold his eyes for a few seconds. 

He sits up again and offers, “I can make ya feel good.”

“I know,” you nod with a laugh.

“I mean, it’ll feel best, if you’re already feelin’ good.” 

You nod with butterflies in your tummy, telling yourself it’s for a practical purpose, and you might as well enjoy it. 

He nods and whispers, “Okay. . .good.” His eyes rove your body hungrily. He asks, “Anywhere ya don’t want me to touch ya?”

You say "no" so fast your cheeks heat in shame.

His eyes darken and he growls, “good,” as he prowls back up your body.  His triceps swell out from under his shirt.

He kisses you tenderly below your jaw and brings a hand to your breast.  You lift your chin with a sigh. He drags his lips and nose down your throat to your chest, pausing at your neckline. He looks up and you nod. He nudges the fabric aside with his nose, then plants a wet kiss on the swell of your breast, and his eyes close. He moans into your skin. Your gaze fixates on his softwash khakis, and he briefly removes his hand from your chest to adjust himself. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“s’okay,” you whisper.

“‘Sposed to be about you right now,” he murmurs, looking up at you. You tilt your head, trying to look at his pants, but the room is too dim. Truth is, you’re finding it hard to think about anything but his cock at the moment. You only felt the briefest hint of it the other night. You want to feel it all.

He slides his hand up your thigh again, and his thumb nudges just slightly under the crotch of your panties, making you twitch. He takes a deep breath through his nose, then withdraws his thumb and lets down the edge of your panties. He scoots up to lie to your side again, leaving his knee between your legs. He rests his hand on your mound, and slowly ghosts your clit, closing his eyes.  When he opens his eyes again, they sparkle, and his face drifts toward yours.  You don’t flinch, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you.

With one hand still between your legs, he slides the other one under your head. He kisses you slow and deep, stroking your most sensitive spot through your panties.  Your mouths remain connected as his massive hand slides up to your bare abdomen. He gives your side a little squeeze before sliding back down and nudging his fingers under the hem of your underwear. He pulls his lips from yours and looks at you darkly. It’s not a question, but you nod as his hand slides down.  You gasp and his knuckles strain the fabric as he cups your naked heat.  “Good,” he whispers when he feels how wet you are.  “What if ya just. . .” he kisses you again, then murmurs,  “let your body decide." He plants a soft, open mouth kiss on your cheek, then whispers in your ear, "I'll go everywhere. You tell me when.”

You wrap your wrists around his neck and he catches your inner arm with his mouth. He wetly kisses the inner crook of your elbow, looking up at you. Then he drags his lips down toward your chest, where he pulls your dress down. Your skin hardens with goosebumps as your nipples sharpen, and he groans softly. He kisses your bare breast, then fixes your dress, and kisses your hard nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back and sigh. He gets between your legs and backs up as he kisses his way down your torso. He lifts your dress and thumbs your panties, sighing “oh, God.” 

He lifts one of your knees over his shoulder and kisses at your cunt through the damp fabric.  Your hips lift into his mouth. He licks along the edge of the crotch, then your inner thigh. He leaves a meandering trail of kisses around your inner thigh, then plants his lips and leaves a hickey. He glances up at you and adjusts himself again, and you let out a little moan.  “C’mere,” You nudge him, pulling at his arms, wanting nothing more than him on top of you. 

He prowls up your body and plants his hands on either side of your chest.  Lays his hips into yours, and when the shape of his warm, hard package presses into your most sensitive place, you gasp and he lets out a low moan. “Should I take-” he asks, reaching for his belt.  You’re nodding before he finishes the question. He uses his left hand to unbuckle his belt. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls away from you enough to take his pants off. Now he’s in long johns, and it’s quite a bulge you’re looking at. Your face and chest burn. You pull him toward you with your feet. He presses his throbbing arousal against your aching heat, and you moan. You card your fingers through his hair. “Feel so good,” you whisper. 

“Good,” he whispers, then kisses your neck again.  

He puts his hand on your thigh and you wrap your leg around him. He lightly grinds into you as he kisses your neck, then your cheek, then your lips again. Your mouths open and draw each other in. You breathe each other’s air and drink each other’s spit. Your lips tingle. Your chest tingles. As you kiss harder, he grinds harder against you. You badly want him inside you, but  you won’t, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you tell yourself. 

The next time his mouth comes to your neck, he teases you with his tongue and a bolt of pleasure shoots down  your spine. Your nipples harden.  He opens his mouth wider against your skin. “Do it,” you whisper, then feel the prick of his fangs against your flesh. “Do it,” you repeat, and his arousal swells against you as he sinks his teeth into your skin. Your hips lift against his. He moans into your neck, and as your blood flows into him, he gets harder. You shudder in pleasure as he takes what he needs. You move his hand from your thigh to your breast, and you lift your pelvis into his, whispering, “yeah.” You’re not lightheaded, not yet. He’s doing this slowly, pacing himself. 

His warmer, harder cock twitches against you, and you reach down to grope it desperately. He groans. You grind up against him and moan, “Joel,” with a surge of need overtaking you. He ruts against you slow and hard, warm and stiff, then his cock pulses right against your clit. He groans into your neck, and you grind back against him, and the whole front of you begins to pulse with him. “Oh God,” you gasp and grab his ass, pulling him against you harder as the warmth of his cum seeps through the thermal fabric, “oh fuck,” you sigh as you cum with him. 

As you finish convulsing, his fangs release you. His breath is humid against your neck. “Fuck, i’m sorry,” he mutters. He leans his cheek against your shoulder, and you can feel how warm his face is. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper. “That felt really good.” He pulls back and looks at you, cheeks blotchy. 

“Really?” he asks. He cups and adjusts his manhood through his damp bottoms. “I never. . .”

“I know,” you reassure him. “It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

He nods with his eyes half closed. “It’s incredible.” 

You nod. “It was good for me too,” you admit. 

“I could feel it,” he puts a hand on your panties.  He sighs and lays half on top of you. He strokes your face. “Can I do somethin’ for ya?”

You shake your head no. “I’m good.” 

He caresses your neck. “I’ll get ya some ice.”

“No,” your hand comes to his back, and you don’t let him leave. “Just stay right here.” 

You lay in silence with him half on top of you. Then he props himself up to look at you. 

“We're made for each other,” he whispers, looking at your mouth. He kisses you softly, then meets your eyes. “You don’t believe it yet.  It’s okay.” 

“It’s not that I don’t-”

“It’s okay. Don’t have to,” he reassures you. He rests his head close to yours on the same pillow, and nuzzles his nose against yours. “Just hope ya feel it one day,” he murmurs into your cheek. “I know ya will.” 

You feel it. You disagree, you think, but you feel the truth in it. 

He puts his arm all the way over you. His arm is solid, and you imagine very heavy, but it's not dead weight. It's tense, like he's actively holding you there, just in case. 

—----

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His parasol was inspired by @gasolinerainbowpuddles mood board. 

Thank you so much for love for vampire!Joel and your patience for his story to continue.

I hear you about notifs not working, and tags too (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

[barbika1508]

A dead man, a criminal. Prisoner. Murderer.

Word Count: 14,1k

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F! Reader

Genre: Action, Romance, Smut

Summary: Your typical-ish ‘breaking Sebastian out of Azkaban’ fic with a bit of angst sprinkled in, but also porn with some plot to put a cheery on top.

Authors Note: Use of MC. I’m sure there are mistake but oh well, otherwise please enjoy my twist on a classic Sebastian Sallow fic. I say classic as it feels like one to me.

Steady breaths. Steady breaths. Steady. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

‘’It's rather odd.’’ a pause follows ‘’They usually send tougher blokes for these things. No offence.’’

I don't bother turning to the guard and his comment, feeling his eyes run up and down my body, the extra layers I've put on doing their job making me look more robust. Even with the Polyjuice potion I’ve drank, resembling a man of a smaller stature with added weight to look as non-threatening as I can, having chosen a muggle I’ve passed two months ago selling newspapers in London.

''None taken.’’ I offer a fake smile snorting, keeping up the acting letting my eyes shift around, the lack of my wand only slightly concerning the guard the only one armed between the two of us ‘’Happens a lot.’’ I grumble coughing as the muggle is a smoker it reflecting in my breathing as it’s becoming heavier the more we walk. My body is aching for rest.

‘’I can imagine.’’ he shrugs, not seeing the glare I send him, being offended in the nameless muggle’s name instead. I flinch as someone suddenly screams at the top of their lungs, the voice carrying around the hall, the cell doors after all wooden with small windows carved in them, bared by metal bars not leaving them open.

The shout is coming from a criminal and yet they are still made of flesh and blood like I am. It sends a nasty chill to run down my spine. It's going to follow me I already know it.

Incredulous as I was before - silently of course - I observe the guard who is completely unphased. He unlocks metal barred doors with a regular key, not using any magic letting us pass into the third section of the prison. The further in we are making it into Azkaban the worse the conditions are. Shouts, screams of pain, manic laughter are the few sounds that have been accompanying me since setting foot on this gods forsaken island.

Taking the moment as the auror wrestles with a new key, I look around the surprisingly lit corridor. With torches on the walls providing light, we’ve reached a section where there’s lack of natural lighting. So, following along the spaciousness my gaze takes me upwards.

Something I was warned against. Of course, curiosity killed the cat after all.

I sallow uneasy at the sight of what seem hundreds if not thousands of dementors swirl near the ceilings, their attention set onto us. Even with good distance between them and us, their mere presence is shattering. Ugly creatures. I feel my own will beginning to falter, bad memories itching to surface to the front of my mind. It’s hard to resist and has me putting in great effort and a deal of concentration to keep my thoughts blank.

‘’They must be sensing you.’’ the guard comments, his voice sounding unnatural in the once more quiet space. Glancing at him with a raised eyebrow he nods stopping to stand next to me ‘’You are faring a lot better than most blokes that come through. I’ll give ya that.’’

‘’In what sense?’’ I manage out following him, his words leaving me uneasy. But not rattled.

‘’Ahh even the biggest of the meatheads that do their bosses biding retrieving poor saps…’’ he glances back at me to which I nod furrowing my brows ‘’...tend to lose it for a few moments on different sections. Fear is a powerful thing.’’

Narrowing my eyes his words hold something deep to them. I’m getting his hint. Other than that, the man besides looking rather bored at times is quite unreadable I’m certain this place leaving effect on him as well. Keeping my observances to myself I trail along as I have been from the beginning, trying my best to ignore this body’s strain which I am putting it through.

‘’It can make you do bizarre things.’’ I say under my breath playing the character I envisioned for the man I am portraying.

The guard hums taking a turn to the right hands back on another keychain containing a few bizarre, shaped keys. Unique to the cells.

‘’It is your lucky day number 18031.’’ he speaks up unlocking the door ‘’Or unlucky given your future is still rather grim. From what I can deduct.’’ he looks back at me giving me a once over once more, along with an unnecessarily creepy and cruel smirk that I have to force out too to fool this lunatic.

The guard per instruction from before makes his way into the cell chatting happily with the prisoner leaving me alone outside. The warmth from the many torches is non-existent, a dangerous type of chill that rattles my bones begins to settle. Once more glancing up the dementors are itching closer in what I can describe is interest.

Cocking my head, I try not to focus on them too closely, clearing my mind of distractions, trying to stop jittering or the need to clack my teeth together. I’m already feeling like life is pointless, the weight of the world set on my shoulders once more. But that is the extent of it, the thrumming in my blood keeping me collected.

The lullaby I call it of my ancient magic is a soothing whisper in my ears.

‘’Ah there we go.’’ comes the guards voice pushing out the man not roughly but enough to get him moving. It takes everything in me from not reaching out watching as the bearded youngster catches himself from falling, his hands chained.

‘’Are the chains necessary?’’ I ask frowning, looking at the guard as he smiles locking the door.

‘’Moreso for you than us Mr. Blane.’’ his reply is of amusement ‘’He is a criminal, but I’m sure you’ve heard that from your boss already.’’

‘’A wandless one.’’ I raise an eyebrow checking the young man over, seeing his hunched form. He’s hiding his face behind long brown hair, the stripped ‘uniform’ he’s forced to wear too big on his form, full of tears. Barefoot he looks like he hasn’t bathed in forever.

‘’You’ve not seen a man brought to their knees by despair yet, have ya?’’ the guard chats as if we’re talking about the weather leaving the prison doors open turning towards the same way where we came from. I subconsciously fall in step with the prisoner giving the prisoner a few seconds of time, watching, and waiting for him to take the first step which he does.

‘’I have.’’ I admit the last 10 years not exactly easy.

‘’Different kind of despair then.’’ the guard hums beginning to unlock the doors ‘’Not to give any ideas but think of basic instincts Mr. Blane. Primal.’’ again the creepy smile is back, the guard’s eyes portraying cruelty he I’m sure has gotten scarily good at hiding. His change in mood is due to something he saw in me, I’m sure. A mannerism I did or an answer that made him switch from apparent boredom to genuine emotions. Which isn't reassuring.

I return the grin trying my hardest not to gag, the emotions swirling in my belly strong.

‘’Hmmm. Thank you for the lesson. I’ll keep that in mind for future encounters.’’

If I was in my own skin, I’d be jumping out of it. The cruelty of the situation the darkness, this prison the capital of corruption and soullessness, insanity sounding blissful even.

Even if the people here are the worst of the worst of wizard kind it’s all too inhumane. As we begin trekking forward with the guard whistling a song, I follow behind the two. The prisoner not having uttered a word, his whole-body showing defeat as he drags his legs, shoulders that are wide and filled slouched. Taller than me for a whole head.

Satisfaction brought the cat back.

The thought crosses my mind my gaze taking me upwards again, to the new dementors who are hovering above us as we make way. Unsettling. Anyone would be unsettled with dark creatures doing so.

I’m no different.

Curiosity after all is not always worth it. Satisfaction even less. So, I redirect the impulsive thought of releasing some magic out to the corner of my mind, the dementors still presenting mystery to this day. In that regards we are similar. Because even though they present fear that has spread to every witch and wizard, here I stand walking beneath them still confident and reassured even wandless they wouldn’t harm me unlike my wizard kin.

My magic is telling me much.

Reaching the last doors takes us a while, our trek unhurried but briefed before we entered the first corridor. I have a hate/love relationship with patience. And the closer we are to the exit the carriage with which I’ve arrived in my sight the more my magic buzzes along with my excitement which I’m desperately trying to keep at bay.

The guard that accompanied me goes to talk to his buddy that’s keeping post at the entrance, the man looking even more uninterested sending us a brief glance only once as he signs scrolls, transfiguring a stone table from a rock nearby.

Glancing at the prisoner he’s still motionless standing next to me like a statue. His hair has grown long, past his shoulders, beard also overgrown. His skin like I mentioned is covered in dirt and grime some clear spots revealing faded freckles. Hmm.

‘’Alright Mr. Blane.’’ the guard cheers still in a jolly mood trotting over to me, presenting the scroll wide and open ‘’The paperwork and the prisoner as promised are all delivered in one piece.’’ and back comes the unsettling grin. The man is too proud of himself and his wrong doings.

‘’Ah that’s a good man.’’ I cough squinting as I read the death certificate bringing my left hand from the pocket of my coat bringing out the handkerchief, I’ve been holding to wipe my mouth as I read the entirety of the page, making sure of the details ‘’Splendid.’’ I continue letting out another cough a hiccup following. Oh no.

‘’Well at the end of the day, we’ve gotten quite the stroll out hey. Besides getting jobs done.’’ I cheer still wiping my mouth that’s beginning to tingle as are my fingers, the potion starting to waver.

‘’A lovely one at that admittedly. I’ve pegged you wrongly at first. You’re quite the brave man Mr. Blake.’’

I laugh with him fishing out a small bag of coins handing them over to him, his eyes practically sparkling as well as the bored guards as he comes over giving the prisoner a disgusted look but makes sure to stand away from him ‘’The amount is as promised lads. And this…’’ I reach for the trouser pocket and bring out 6 more coins splitting them between the two ‘’For your troubles and help.’’ I smile gratefully ready to puke my guts out, my skin literally crawling, my left leg beginning to itch unbelievably.

‘’Ahhhh Mr. Blane. How generoussss.’’ the overly joyed guard cheers, the bored one looking impressed ‘’The pleasure was all ours.’’

‘’Indeed.’’ the bored guard adds handing over my wand which was also made to look different, the redness of the wood of my wand masked into black wood along with the handle being switched into a plain one.

‘’Gentlemen.’’ I nod in acknowledgement ‘’Business calls. Have yourself a pleasant day onwards.’’ I greet and begin to walk ignoring the prisoner as the guard eagerly steps to him. I hear them both follow to the carriage, the Thestral’s patiently waiting.

Not entirely used to the big belly of this body I stumble and practically climb into the carriage. Beginning to sweat and not only from fatigue I start to wipe my forehead, smiling as the “nicer” guard ushers the prisoner into the carriage with me, making him sit opposite as I’ve sat with my back to the Thestral’s.

‘’Until next time Mr. Blane.’’ the guard greets looking up as I cover my mouth the trembles happening all over my body. I play it off with a nod and another cough, the guard getting the message and closing the doors. Not wasting any time, I wave my wand magic the Thestral’s neighing in reply pulling us forth, the movement rough having me grip onto the seat as we practically launch into the air.

Waving my wand, the tinny curtains of the doors close shut as I try to catch my breath sitting back feeling very uncomfortable in this body, the grumbling getting louder and obnoxious, brown eyes peeking at me.

My breath gets caught at the sight of them. And my smile is instantaneous.

‘’Sorry about this…’’ the change in my voice is noticeable getting higher pitched, but lowering quickly as if one was changing the frequency on the radio ‘’...this will probably be uncomfortable for the both of us.’’

And with that, I attempt at shrugging off the oversized coat I’ve got on, barely managing it as my skin begins to morph, my eyesight sharpening from the dullness it has fallen into. The weight from the male anatomy is the hardest to disappear leaving me without air, the more my body reforms, hair prickling as it grows and regrows. Bones and limbs twist, organs readjusting. The heaviness in my lungs disintegrates and I’m left feeling like I’m breathing clean air after a long time.

The transformation back into myself leaves me winded and a bit lost for time. Because what feels like agonizing minutes, I’m sure it was seconds that passed. Sitting slumped against the carriage seat I look back up to meet my favourite pair of brown eyes, still unchanged in these 10 years.

I can see the bafflement in them.

And recognize the way his mind is working - a million miles per hour.

‘’Alright so we don’t have much time.’’ I find my voice clearing it by coughing a few times, simultaneously beginning to wrestle with the tie I’ve put on and the white shirt underneath ‘’The Ministry’s lookout is bound to meet us at one point. It’s routine for them to fly around to check any unwanted visitations near Azkaban…’’ I ramble undoing the clothing I’ve put on realizing how hot I’ve gotten as I strip down to my own simple shirt and blazer, along with pants and shoes that have already fallen off my feet.

‘’...so, let's get you into something more comfortable for the time being. And less obvious.’’

I begin to pick up the clothing placing it next to him, for him to wear as intended ‘’Gods, we should've been off already.’’ I grumble standing up, pushing open the seat grabbing my boots, along with another wand.

Turning forward I meet his eyes again offering the wand ‘’It's not yours I’m sorry I couldn’t retrieve it. But it's the next best thing until we can find you a new one.’’

But unlike how I imagined it, he doesn’t react. Still silent, a bit frighteningly so he stares at it mouth remaining shut eyes coming back to meet mine.

‘’Okay then amm…’’ I stumble dropping onto the seat ‘’No rush there, Sebastian. I’ll take care of you don’t worry.’’

With my boots on, I automatically reach forward but stop myself quickly realizing the boldness of my action, watching him scared for a second that he’s going to freak out. He doesn’t. He remains motionless staring at me unbreaking eye contact.

‘’I’m sorry I’m rushing you into this. I really am sorry. But I need you to change, okay? I didn’t break you out of prison to see you sent back. Can you please dress??? Do you need help?’’

He shakes his head at that and lifts his hands wordlessly ‘’Oh fuck, I’m so stupid I’m so sorry.’’ I rush reaching for my wand the concealing charm falling away revealing my wand properly ‘’Alohomora.’’

And just like that the chains fall from his wrist, his hands defined and a bit scarred.

‘’I’ll go outside okay, give you a moment.’’ Receiving back the faintest of nods and a completely unreadable Sebastian, I open the carriage door, the wind slamming into me but unmoving me as I make quick work of climbing onto the empty seat, another illusion charm breaking to reveal no one driving the carriage. Sparks of blue like magic visibly to my eyes only.

Checking the surroundings luckily clouds are beginning to gather, a storm brewing the smell of it thick in the air. Turning back seeing nothing but ocean underneath us I let myself smile a little, as I pick up on thunder grumbling.

A knock to the ceiling of the wood brings me back to reality, setting me back into motion of sliding back into the carriage. Instead of entering I rest one foot on the second step, holding onto the railing atop of the carriage hanging from it practically as I peek inside taking Sebastian in.

The clothes are lost as was his prison uniform but makes him look less, wild in a sense. His eyes hold more intensity to them.

‘’Okay.’’ I begin noticing he hasn’t reached for the wand I let for him picking it up ‘’You’ve got no reason to but, will you trust me?’’ I ask his eyes going to the wand then back to me ‘’Trust me Seb??’’ I try, sliding the wand into the sleeve of my blouse where I have my own wand holster.

After two heart beats Sebastian nods, to which I mimic him turning sideways.

‘’Alright. It’s just you and me.’’ I repeat the words automatically, this having become a mantra the past 10 years before I did anything foolish and dangerous. Scooting to the doors preventing them from closing I reach back with my hand offering it to him.

‘’Place your foot behind mine and hold onto me, okay?? Really tight!’’

Focusing on what I must do next, I don’t pay him mind. I don’t even know if he hesitates or not. Not even the way he slides his hand in mine. I only know for sure when I feel his hand, I grab onto him firmly switching to holding one hand with my right, left keeping us upright as he presses himself behind me. He’s a lot taller than I remember beard scratching the back of my head.

‘’Okay.’’ I say to myself more so, grasp on the bar of the carriage beginning to morph as I feel what I can describe is a pleasant heat of my magic coming to life, the support of the carriage disappearing as if a balloon was popped.

And just like that we are falling.

For a few moments that is. Sebastian’s hold tightens impossibly so crushing me onto him. And as ridiculous as it is, bizarre in the midst of the chaos, of the fear, anxiety, happiness, everything bubbling in me I can feel butterflies.

Upkeep his trust, and proceeding with the plan like I’ve said the carriage disappears. What’s left is my modified broom, which was the rod I was holding onto. Bending my knees, I twist it in front of me and slide it beneath us both.

It’s a move I’ve been practicing since my first flying days back at Hogwarts, the thought of falling of a broom instilling a weird fear into me. So, this move has been years in the making.

Successfully I slide it both underneath us, catching onto the foot holders I’ve readjusted to the front. It does pull us roughly forward and Sebastian lands on it to the side. But I’m prepared. I’ve literally obsessed over every possibility of this.

With a nudge forward and hold my iron grip on him, his hand intertwined in mine I pull him flat against me, twisting the broom to right our positions.

On a normal day the manoeuvre would call for a loud cheer, the accomplishment unseen by wizard kind. But not today. It’s not an occurrence in anyone’s lifetime to break people from Azkaban. And yet here we are.

So, upkeep focus is the priority. Flying Sebastian to safety is the next agenda of business. And with the cover of clouds and budding lightning, that’s the easiest part of today.

***

‘’Well…’’ I pause taking half a step back to observe my handiwork trying my hardest not to make any faces, as I continue running my fingers through his hair, the newly chopped strands sticking in all kinds of directions ‘’...given my limited experience in sheering a sheep once, I’d say it looks rather good.’’ I praise myself satisfied with Sebastian’s now short hairstyle.

Trying to remain positive I stand in front of him, his eyes unmovable from me not once fleeting elsewhere ‘’Hm.’’ I mumble and place my hands on my hips meeting his pretty brown eyes ‘’Feels better huh?’’

He doesn’t reply. He hasn’t spoken a word since the carriage. No scratch that since his cell. I’m not sure exactly what to think of it reminding myself over and over again to keep calm and give him time and space. Which reminds me.

‘’Ah yeah, the bath.’’ I point out the tub that I’ve filled almost to the brim with lukewarm sinking the tips of my fingers in it to test it out ‘’Alright. I’ve got many shampoos, over there…’’ He merely glances to where I point to the small stool, I’ve placed next to the tub ‘’...I remember you liking more woody scents, but I didn’t know exactly the brand you liked, so I bought a bunch for you to try.’’ I smile as I step over to him sitting in the middle of my bathroom, covered with an old towel as I’ve cut his hair leaving the beard up to him.

‘’There are fresh clothes for you, the one’s I gave you were for show and more of a universal size. We’ll get more to fit you better and to your liking when you’re ready.’’ I pass him over to the sink, letting go of the scissors on the porcelain surface, my own products neatly stacked to my liking on the free space of the shelving unit I built one day.

‘’And yeah.’’ reaching for my wand I wave it at the tub, speaking the incantation in my mind watching as the water begins to bubble and steam, trying not to let Sebastian’s deep gaze unhinge me ‘’That’s about that.’’ I smile wider backing towards the door ‘’Take as much of time as you like. I’ll go prepare us some food in the meantime. If you need anything I’m right behind the doors.’’

With that I’m grasping the doorhandle opening it but find myself hesitant with taking a step onwards turning back to the still mute Sebastian that doesn’t move a muscle. It’s as if he’s trying to tell me something while I’m stuck on a level of not being able to understand him. With a softer smile, I step outside with a heavy heart closing the door gently making my way into the kitchen from my bedroom.

My cottage is on the smaller side only having the basics, the addition of a study heaven sent. I send a glance around the spacious room that is the kitchen, entrance, dining room and living room all combined.

It’s a cozy little place to live in, with no noisy neighbours, or busy streets my location being on the edge of the village ensuring peace and quiet.

But tonight, for the first time since moving here the silence is deafening. Knowing who is on the other side of the wall. My body begins moving on autopilot peeling potatoes by hand instead of using magic, my mind keeps racing. It’s hard not to think of more scenarios, more what-ifs. Honestly its quite bloody hard trying not to spiral. Guilt always finds a way to interfere.

Before I know it, I’ve prepared the veggies and precut chicken setting it into the oven it firing up normally. It only comes after the tiredness from my actions as I slump into the chair at the head of the table facing the kitchen, so I’ll be able to see Sebastian emerge from my dimly lit room.

It feels unreal. Reality not sinking just yet - he is here. He is free. I’ve freed him.

The commitment of a crime - breaking a prisoner out of prison - still doesn’t sound bad in my ears. Logically its illegal yes, but I feel that I did the right thing. Because I did. I know I did. I’m just regretful it took me 10 fucking years to do so. Laws cannot help you even when proven right and wrong. Alliances are fickle matters. Money can’t buy you everything.

Shadows moving in the corner of my eye have me tense up, left hand shifting towards the movement, my wand forgotten on the clean kitchen counter. I keep forgetting it in places, wandless magic having gotten easier with training and life experiences. I somewhat relax at the sight of Sebastian emerging from the other room.

He leaves me stunned. With damp hair slicked back, and a clean-shaven face I’m able to see the progress of time on him. It’s not much which is why it strikes me all that more at how all the same he looks. He is on the skinnier side, eyes cheeks sunken, the boyish look gone and replaced by the serious and still wordless man that cautiously walks into the light, eyes fleeting towards the oven - or my wand - then back to me.

The clothes I’ve gotten him hang loose but not too much. They look a little short. He’s taller than I anticipated. But clothing is an easy fix. So is hair.

Despite the sullenness he’s still Sebastian. It's hard to explain it, but I see that spark in him even in the emotionlessness he’s portraying. Makes my heart ache so much more.

‘’You’ve made yourself a cozy home.’’ are the first words that he speaks. His voice is gruff giving a hint of not being used as the tone is low and raspy.

I glance around memories of frantic deep cleaning marathons I’ve spiralled into before setting out on getting him free, going through my mind as I shrug turning back ‘’Ehhh. A recent purchase.’’ I glance around again trying not to look at the trinkets I’ve picked up from adventures and work-related tasks.

At his silence but inquiring eyes I continue ‘’The quiet has its advantages. Or maybe it’s the old age in me, craving some alone time.’’

At this his eyebrows raise as he looks around again, observing the furniture, decor, pictures ‘’No significant other to keep company??’’

I want to snort at the obvious question: his train of thoughts is very similar to the old Sebastian I knew. I shake my head rolling my shoulders back as I lean against the chair, relaxing my feet and body getting comfortable ‘’Wasn’t on my list of priorities to be honest.’’ I scrunch up my nose watching as he walks over to the table, still putting distance between us.

‘’Hmmm.’’ he hums in thought eyes looking over my ringless fingers as if to confirm it ‘’You were always too brilliant for mere mortals.’’ he jokes my smile easily rising at the jab as I chuckle my heart fluttering at the soft smile that he graces me with.

‘’Ah it’s not even about that, and you know it.’’ I reply bringing my hands on the table together starting to fidget as I timidly look at him ‘’Did you…’’ I pause adrenaline and confidence having truly left me ‘’Did you by any chance get any mail?’’

He remains silent eyes breaking away as they look around the room more, the shift from one foot to another prompting him into walking slowly over, hands that previously rested on top of a chair, moving along touching the wood as he comes closer.

‘’You wrote me?’’ he counters with a question, face not giving anything away even if he looks relaxed.

‘’I did.’’ I say calmly ignoring the rise of my heartbeat as he pulls the chair out on my left and with caution sits himself down, body turned towards me.

‘’Sadly, I wasn’t granted those kinds of privileges.’’

Defeated at that, the comfort of Sebastian hearing from me all these years is slightly defeating as I’ve hoped my words would bring some form of comfort. When my owl kept returning with no letters, I’d assumed that he got them.

‘’I tried.’’ I begin licking over my lower lip ‘’I wrote to you.’’ I pause again looking at my hands not able to meet his serious face ‘’I tried opening an investigation for your case.’’ I send a glance to my right the cabinet containing all the documents I’ve gathered during the 10 years to free him. ‘’Even with the right connections I – I’ve had to resort to other measures.’’ I frown raising my right hand reciting the right levitation charm watching as a thin brown folder levitates into the air and makes its way over into my hand.

I finally turn to Sebastian trying not to backtrack at the intense look he’s giving me. The emotionlessness has me on edge, but even more so it’s his stillness. I know him as being animated always full of life and mischief too, his cunning knowing no bounds. Its why I was always drawn to him, so easily agreeing to stupid plans.

‘’You’ve heard us talk. I think you’ve picked up on what transpired.’’ I turn the file over and slide it to him, his eyes unmoving from me as silence stretches between us.

And the more it goes on the more I feel like a little girl again. Uncomfortable, lost, anxious but the feelings I hate the most are insecurity and helplessness. With a look he’s drawing that out of me. Lucky or unlucky my employment has provided me with years of practice, and a ton of experience to leave nothing out as I hold myself composed, straightening up even sitting proper in anticipation for an attack. I don’t exactly know how else to hold myself by, the work of an Unspeakable wrapped in mystery for sure, but also layers of let’s call it character development that had shaped me into the person I am today.

Yet with the reminder of the last few years the trails tribulations, the triumphs, falls, accomplishments, deaths I’m being brought to a dangerous level of crumbling. Under those watchful brown eyes, empty but overwhelming at the same time.

‘’Last time I saw you, heard you – your cries were quite remorseful.’’ He taps his fingers against the table quirking an eyebrow. The memory burns freshly in my mind, aurors taking Sebastian away, Ominis holding me back with surprising strength as I protested and pleaded, begging for them to stop my cries falling on deaf ears.

‘’I think any 15-year-old would react like that when she saw the love of her life being taken away like that.’’ the truth pours out easily the quirk of his brow signalling I’ve caught him of guard.

‘’That’s quite the statement, Mc.’’ He observes, his posture giving hints of something akin to curiosity.

‘’It happens to be truthful.’’ I lower my chin a little still maintaining eye contact.

‘’Even after all that happened. After all I’ve done? After I’ve taught you the dark arts. Got you almost killed?’’ the words pour out of him the collectedness cracking.

‘’They say love is blind.’’ I smile at my own statement relaxing back into the chair.

‘’Mc.’’ He speaks my name seriously leaning forward for the first-time showing anger and frustration shifting in his seat ‘’I’ve manipulated you into doing my biding. Played on your nice heart, taken advantage thoroughly. I didn’t even think about consequences. You’re not daft. You’re aware of all of this.’’

I simply nod at his words smile still present ‘’I didn’t care about your feelings or wellbeing.’’ He adds on my shrug seemingly rising more out of him ‘’I would’ve done anything and everything to find a cure. Anything.’’

At this I tilt my head watching him. I’ve imagined him going of like this in my mind many times. My own imagination a lot more hurtful than the real thing truthfully. Even if his words are baneful, I find myself being okay.

‘’You never lied very well to me.’’ I find myself stating his lack of anything prompting me to go on ‘’I could always read you. I knew you better than you did yourself.’’ I hum after that Sebastian shaking his head.

‘’And here I thought I’ve been freed from the looney bin.’’

At that statement my smile disappears my fingers tapping on the table to rein him in ‘’No need for that, Seb. We both know what anger makes you do, your regretful-ness always leading you to grovelling.’’ I spit back. His jaw clenches, fingers curling into fists stance tense.

‘’I think between the two of us you’re the fool in this equation. You used to tease anyone to never underestimate me, and yet here you are.’’ I pause reaching for the pocket of my pants ‘’You know I’m not the one who put you behind bars.’’ Confidently I go on ‘’Somehow even with little privileges you’re a Slytherin after all. Its why you didn’t protest or react when the Polyjuice potion wore off in the carriage.’’

His breathing is becoming deeper, chest raising and falling noticeably ‘’You knew something was up. You’re not one to throw in the towel. Even after – after the circumstances.’’ I pause not wanting to mention Azkaban directly ‘’I have it on good authority that you’ve gotten some of my letters.’’ His breathing hitches my smile rising ‘’Like I said you can’t trick me Sallow. We’ve had it worse in our 5th year in some regards.’’

I get completely serious waiting for him to protest, waiting for him to raise an uproar as I’m sure he’s easily recollecting the events in our Hogwarts days. The thought of us being kids and definitely the definition of luck as the dangers we’ve faced would leave anyone else traumatized or dead.

I’ve been in the presence of dementors before, the ministry having random outbreaks, some of my missions having sent me to meet even worse creatures than them. Sebastian might have been alone for these past years dealing with happiness and joy being sucked out of him – for a fact I know especially now that he’s going to be okay. He has changed yes, grown as I did, but he has also managed to adapt to his surroundings. He didn’t let them take him entirely apart.

‘’Even with this…’’ I rest my hand on the table, knuckles against the wood opening my palm up we both watch as a fire like shape raises, the tingle of my ancient magic humming comforting to be brought to the surface ‘’…with what life has thrown at me…’’ I shake my head the magic rising ‘’…I’m…’’ the words die on my tongue.

Magic retracts itself disappearing into thin air leaving behind a warm feeling my offer to the once more stoic brunette a sad smile as I pull my hand back but place the small box from my pocket on the table ‘’You’re not alone.’’

My voice is strained as the oven begins to beep annoying loud providing the opportunity to look away and blink tears into nonexistence as I will myself to calm down, waving my hand in the familiar and automatic pattern as I watch the over, turn off its doors opening. The dish floats without a hitch onto the stove, the oven doors closing.

Glancing over at Sebastian his gaze is stuck on the unopened box and file. I sigh deeply steadying myself as I reach over and flicker the velvety box open revealing a simple silver ring pushing it to him. I tap the table twice, the indication for him to open the document. Which he slowly does reach for, opening it as if it’s going to attack him at any moment.

Placing both of my hands back on the table, I summon the wand I’ve gotten for him his declination of it before still a mystery to me. Catching the unfamiliarly weighted wand, I gently place it on the table right in the middle between us, the offering going unsaid.

Retreating my hands I reach for the other pocket of my pants, pulling out and putting on my own wedding band which is a fairly recent accessory I’ve started wearing.

Looking over at the silent man, his eyes are taking the paper in rapidly. Reading. Re-reading. Re-checking. The certificates. The ring. The wand.

‘’Nothing is set in stone.’’ I softly begin Sebastian still unmoving ‘’Except for the death certificate. That was tricky to arrange, more so than the wedding document. Oh, Merlin that was ridiculously easy.’’ Once more I shake my head letting out an empty laugh, surprised but not showing it as he has picked up the wedding ring his silence stretching for longer than I’m used to from him.

It slides me right back towards the edge, anxiety picking, the knot in my stomach twisting to a painful degree.

‘’L/N?’’

I nod immediately as his eyes meet my own ‘’I think my surname is rather nice.’’ I blur out ‘’No that Sallow isn’t but, it kind of defeats the whole ‘you’re publicly dead’ purpose.’’ I rant his face not changing ‘’I’m sure the daily prophet will mention your passing tomorrow.’’ I glance to the left at the clock ticking away, signalling its way later than it feels. It still feels surreal to have Sebastian in front of me.

He opens his mouth but closes it just as fast something bothering him, twisting his pretty face into a frown. It would be weird if he wasn’t bothered.

‘’Like I’ve said nothing is set into stone.’’ I raise my hands in surrender, Sebastian’s attention on the wand now. He’s watching it and not picking it up.

‘’I’ve used you.’’ His statement catches me of guard as anger sparks ‘’Need I repeat all the misdeed’s all the faults I’ve made you dealt with? I saw how scared you were of the ancient magic, I saw how it drained you and still I’ve pushed and pushed you, into exhaustion and numerous shaves with death without a pause. Heck, in the scriptorium after casting Curcio I left you behind in favour of exploring. Mc. Why?’’ he deadpans ‘’Anne my own twin sister sent me to Azkaban. Ominis my best friend didn’t hesitate to betray me. You…this is madness. You are mad.’’

He stares at me incredulous clearly having run these questions through his mind before. He rehearsed these words. Before me doesn’t sit a ‘notorious prisoner, a criminal from Azkaban’ anymore. Before me is sitting the Sebastian I know and love. With the same scared expression, same sort of desperation eyes pleading for things to make sense.

Hence why getting up is so much easier body moving on its own the scared boy I was infatuated with having the same effect on me, pulling me in towards the wildfire that he is. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t particularly react in any way as I step around the table and in front of him rising my hands.

Meeting his eyes my palms land on his cheeks. Gentle to touch thanks to the shower and shave they feel familiar in my palms and yet different. His body tense from emotions and racing mind going gradually into a relax state as he hunches forward, eyes blinking away tears.

I crowd into his personal space Sebastian making room by spreading his legs, welcoming as I brush my fingers into his messy hair, the motion making me feel 10 years younger as I’ve used to do this on the regular whenever we were alone together.

My heart all but leaps from my chest as his hands find themselves above my hips in a respectful place sliding over my back drawing me into a hug which I happily succumb to, holding him close to me only slightly self-conscious if he can hear how my heart speeds for him.

Otherwise, the surrealness returns, the overwhelming joy of finally putting my plans into motion of them being fruitful hit me. Closing my eyes I attempt at holding back tears, but it’s an impossible task with the way he’s holding onto me, guiding me as if I’m made of glass to sit in his lap rearranging us and yet not parting a millimetre away from one another, as he buries his face into my shoulder and stills, big hands splayed over my back as if I’m the one who’s going to disappear.

To be honest my hands are doing the same, grasping his clothes rougher than needed the reassurance not quenched entirely. So, I let the tears flow I’m sure dampening his shirt in the process, alerting him of my state only after a while since he makes the first move, calloused hands this time cupping my own cheeks, thumbs attempting to wipe away tears.

‘’I’ve not seen you cry ever dearest Mc, and I’m the one who makes you cry so easily??’’ a spark of mischief fizzles in the end his hesitant smile words causing me to huff an awkward laugh, as I look up towards the ceiling trying to will away the tears.

‘’It’s merely a side effect of a heartfelt reunion.’’ I let out some air looking back at him feeling hope creep into my heart which is unnerving ‘’Long distance and all.’’ My voice cuts off in the end the humour not at all humorous.

He hums in response I think feeling the same sentiments as I am, preoccupying himself with getting acquainted with me again. I know I’ve changed, its only logical. We are not kids anymore. I let him indulge as one hand continuously caresses up and down my back, the other touching my lose hair, temple, nose, cheek and so forth meanwhile I do the same taking my own selfish time in admiring him so up close, blissfully ignoring reality the bubble we’ve fallen into, serenity. A slice of Eden dare I say.

Its once his hand parts from my face and find my left hand, that he speaks again ‘’This is not how I’ve imagined my marriage would start.’’ He begins softly voice still containing raspiness to it, fingers tracing and rotating the wedding ring on my finger ‘’Rather unorthodox.’’ He muses in the end blessing me with a genuine smile.

‘’It’s quite fitting for your brand.’’ We both grin and my tease ‘’And like you’ve mentioned before. I’m not meant for mere mortals. Let alone being one for tradition or normalcy.’’ I let my ancient magic sparkle watching as he stares in wonder at our joined hands the blue like flame illuminating his face into a pretty blue colour.

‘’And yet you’re bestowing the sacred privilege of not only honouring me with your last name but taking me rather shamelessly as your husband?’’ he looks incredulous the more he speaks sort of holding his breath in a sense to see if I’m suddenly going to change my mind ‘’A dead man, a criminal. Prisoner. A murderer.’’

His handsome features twist into a frown showing disgust and what he’s thinking about himself I’m sure holding more vile words back. Unphased and already having expected this I keep calm, and with my right free hand reach for his occupied hand retaking the wedding ring I’ve picked for him twisting it between my fingers a trick I’ve learned from a muggle magician, slight of hands handy even in the wizarding world.

‘’To me you are just Sebastian.’’ I admit smiling watching his eyes glossing over lower lip trembling briefly ‘’I’ve obviously made my choice haven’t I. I’m giving you a choice of your own. You can accept it or refuse it, regardless of my actions and feelings because this is about you and your life from this point onwards.’’

The pause is heavy in the air, the coldness from the dementors making a fleeting appearance as I’m reminded of where he is coming from after all. He’s not the Sebastian I know not entirely, even if I am drawing him out slowly. Hence my fears are justifiable.

‘’You’ve taken one life, Seb.’’ I whisper lowering my hand searching his eyes ‘’In self-defence.’’ I pause again gulping down the knot in my throat ‘’You’ve no clue what I’ve done since you’ve been gone.’’ I give him a sad smile, looking between us at the way he’s holding my hand ‘’You have not paused to think that I might be dragging you back onto the wrong path. That I’m not who I appear to be. That I might be the bad guy here.’’

His relaxed body tenses the more I talk, expression once more dropping all emotions as he hardens eyebrows furrowing as intensity sparks behind his eyes ‘’You could never be.’’ He’s quick to hiss, gentle hands tightening the shake of his head warming me.

‘’Oh, but I am.’’ I drop both my hands in my lap, his own not leaving me for a moment ‘’I’ve earned many names in the years of my employment at the ministry.’’ He gets taken aback by that my smile lighter ‘’Professor Hecat had an eye for detecting certain potentials in students. Even the ones with good intentions.’’

I wait for him to figure out, to make the connection which he does brilliantly fast ‘’Mc…’’ he speaks my name sweetly to which I shake my head.

‘’I hold no grudges or ill against you Sebastian. I never had.’’ I straighten his hold unmoving ‘’I had this feeling ever since our youth that we were always meant to be.’’ His eyes widen ‘’It may be delusion from my part, but I do not regret the things I did with you, or the things I had to do to get you out.’’ Its frighteningly easy to slip into the serious persona I tend to wear as an Unspeakable. I hate that I’m doing it to him, switching up emotions not really comforting him as I should be.

But he needs to know the truth.

‘’You’ve always been on my m…’’

Unable to finish the sentence I’m startled into silence as his lips meet my own. Of course, it’s a rather surprising move I think for the both of us, as he doesn’t entirely commit to it his slightly chapped lips moving shily. He retreats as quicky as he came, eyes panicked as they search my own.

He meant the kiss I know that much. Its written all over his panic-stricken features and eyes. This is where the prison has left a mark on him, turning the flirtations and overconfident Slytherin to an insecure man holding me firmly and yet blushing at a mere peck that he so clumsily delivered.

Breaking the poor man’s torture, I end up closing the distance initiating the kiss gently, timid lips still unsure as they follow my own, a tremble to them prompting me to wrap my arms around his shoulders to hold him closer in reassurance. Or it might be my own insecurity still gnawing at my subconsciousness. Emotions are a tricky business.

For the moment being, the sweet slow drag of our lips is enough to keep me grounded. To appreciate the sacrifices made, the overthinking and panicking at times, the survival methods the both of us had to resort to. It matters not in the end as long as we are back in each other’s arms. And if that makes me bad, morally grey as the whispers in the ministry are floating around – I’ll be the villain. Gladly. As long as I get to see Sebastian. As long as he’s alright. Dare I hope for him to be happy finally.

Slowly parting he follow suit chasing me for a fracture of a moment. The small action has me smiling as I lean my forehead against his, running one hand through his hair trying to hold back, and calm my breathing and the beating of my heart.

‘’I’ve missed you.’’ my voice comes out unfiltered ‘’I’ve missed you so much, it ached.’’ I grasp his hand with my other one placing it over my heart ‘’Hurt. It hurt so bad, Seb.’’ Blasted tears make an appearance as I give space to look at him his own expression crushing as he looks so sorry and dejected.

‘’Oh darling…’’ he whines gulping, thoughts I’m sure all over ‘’Just you and me yeah??’’ he whispers upkeeping eye contact ‘’Remember? I made a promise.’’

I close my eyes at the memory. The memory holds joy as it does tragedy. The stupid fool that he was, he followed me one night when I stumbled upon a camp of poachers. The hero he wanted to act just got in the middle of things. It took one second of distraction from my part, one bloody second that he got struck with a nasty hex that left him instantly bleeding and unresponsive.

That brough a whole another aspect to my ancient magic as a thunderstorm raged for the rest of the night. He narrowly escaped death only thanks to me finding the by then deceased wizard’s wand, breaking it to relive him of pains, and a good 2 Wiggenweld Potion’s to get him semi-conscious.

Having had to reveal the room of requirements and thankfully learning enough healing charms to ‘mend’ him together his promise befell through a fervour he had. But his smile was bright, genuine a bit aloof. He meant every word he said.

And right now, he’s being deadly serious waiting for my response.

‘’Even after all this time?’’ my voice comes out unsure, Sebastian immediately nodding bringing our joined hands upwards to which he presses a kiss to the top of my knuckles.

‘’I could ask you the same thing.’’ He smiles with ease drawing out a blush to flush over my cheeks ‘’You’ve waited all these years, haven’t you?’’ he hums as I nod not trusting my voice ‘’Found impossible ways to keep giving me hope. To keep me alive. Sane.’’ I can merely stare at him, ignoring my own trembling lips letting myself enjoy his touches and proximity ‘’Only you. It has always been only you.’’

Unlike the younger version of Sebastian who had shown his fire-y passion usually through kisses and rather daring touches now and then, this Sebastian still handling me like glass pulls me into his embrace, resting his head onto my shoulder hiding his face in my hair and momentarily from the world.

So, I follow suit, running one hand over his back caressing, the other finding its way into his curls the feeling of them, having imagined it to many times to count, currently a blissful affair.

‘’Let me see that ring.’’ He speaks up as I’ve seemingly lost my own voice, doing as he wishes parting only slightly to watch him accept the ring I’ve been holding onto this entire time, doubts nasty little critters as I like to not so affectionally call these emotions, piling and adding weight.

With a held breath, he examines the silver ring turning and twisting it around looking at it from all the angles, his lips painted with a faint lopsided smirk of amusement and mischief. He looks up at me the side of his eyes crinkling a bit.

‘’No flashy jewellery.’’ He quirks an eyebrow, cupping my ring bearing hand raising it to which his gaze falls into my own ring which he gently rolls around my fingers ‘’Always the one for practicality.’’ He chuckles retreating his hand to put his wedding band onto his finger. Only when it slides fitting onto his digit perfectly do I release the breath I’ve been holding.

‘’It’s not even about practicality.’’ I pout watching as he flexes his fingers, rotating his hand as if testing the feel of the band his definitely mischievous eyes landing on my own ‘’I’m not one for rocks it’s all.’’ I shrug attempting to cross my arms waiting for the onslaught of his teases giving in immediately as his hand intercepts both of my own.

‘’Just sturdy, powerful and extremely rare metals then?’’ again with the quirking of his eyebrow his comment reminding me how brilliant he still is. It didn’t take him long at all to figure out that our wedding bands, silver in colour have been made from like he said extremely, nearly extinct pieces of metal that took quite the ventures to get to them.

Not only have they meaning in the eyes of everyone as being symbols of our love and devotion to one another, but they provide us with certain magical enhancements.

‘’Not meant for mere mortals.’’ Once more I throw at his face wanting him to understand how much he means to me, his playfulness lowering a notch as he looks at me with affection. With more confidence in his actions, he leans in capturing my lips with his, the kiss syrupy as he takes his time as if to explore my mouth anew, hands finding themselves over my thigs where he grips onto my flesh and pulls me even closer.

I sigh into the kiss letting him take the lead, not minding his touches that grow bolder kiss paired with teeth and tongue reminding me of his teenage self actually who wasn’t afraid of trying out new things.

What has my brows furrowing is the thrust of his hips coming at random the full feel of his manhood clicking in my brain I shift in his lap in such a manner that has me wrapping my legs around his hips, the back of the chair providing an annoying blockade preventing me from wrapping around him.

As if he reads my mind – making me briefly wonder if he has become a legitimus – his hands slip underneath me his touch daring as its on my bottom. With a bite to my lower lip, he lets out a shuddering breath shifting getting up all the while holding me against him. The damned chair falls over causing a racket in the quiet house but leaves him and myself unbothered as his lips find their way under my jaw teeth grazing against my jugular the action arousing in some odd way.

‘’Oh Seb…’’ I groan as he presses a wet kiss to a ticklish area, his swaying prompting me to open my eyes, seeing the sunrise outside the window.

‘’You sound so beautiful.’’ He groans continuing with his ministrations ‘’And I’ve merely begun.’’ Cheeky is what he is, hands grasping my backside squeezing even.

‘’Oh.’’ I squeak ending up giggling at my own response, Sebastian ending up laughing with me, momentarily stopping his ministrations ‘’Ah Merlin. You’re still obnoxious.’’

On purpose I’m sure he delivers a slightly stinging bite ‘’Ouch Sebastian!’’ I try to scold him, his lull into a step side-tracking my thoughts as I cling onto him.

‘’And you are still, sensitive dear wife.’’ he smirks as I look down at him, his grin almost the same one that promises nothing but trouble. But his use of title, has a blush hitting me all over, heat practically washing over me. I see how my reaction pleases him, as he continues walking carefully. A hint of my old Sebastian is showing through the sparkles in his pretty eyes.

‘’I’m not sensitive.’’ I pout trying to keep calm and my head clear ‘’You always imagined that.’’

He chuckles as we walk past the doorway, the sun outside casting gentle rays onto the floor. It’s quite the miracle for it has been raining for months, and today out of all days it’s miraculously sunny.

‘’Ah. Sure yes. As your dutiful husband I shall agree on that and apologize darling.’’ He exaggerates making me muse as he stops and hovers over the bed.

‘’Now you are exaggerating Sebastian.’’

‘’Happy wife…’’ I put my hand over his mouth to stop him from finishing the sentence, as I giggle looking at him in astonishment.

‘’Don’t you even dare.’’ I warn letting go of his mouth in favour of grabbing him by his shoulders as he dips down ‘’Seb…’’ I gasp in fright as it begins okay, him bending forward but it ends up in me falling on the bed and him crashing into me leaving me winded from surprise but not the impact.

He burst into laughter whilst I do the same, covering my face for a moment looking at the ceiling above me, Sebastian shaking in my arm from laughter hanging half off the bed.

‘’That was rather…accurate for the two of us.’’ I mumble running my hands up and down his back as he begins to calm down, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly whole expression lifted and joyful.

‘’Excuse me then dear wife. This was not in my plans.’’ He giggles still greatly amused, only now readjusting himself off me, and manoeuvring the both of us onto the bed sideways still as he doesn’t put any distance between us.

‘’I would sure hope not.’’ I smile cupping his cheeks ‘’Fear not dear husband, I am not made of porcelain.’’ I raise my eyebrows ready for his teasing. He takes a different course, in the form of closing the distance kissing me with more vigour, remaining soft in his ministrations his hand oddly in place.

I kiss him in return trying to calm down my shuddering breath as he steals it literally. Even as I cannot uphold my head upright and fall to lie down, he follows eagerly pressing pecks, kisses over my jawline cheek, cheekily kissing the tip of my nose eyes half closed as he admires for a moment and then returns to reward me with the slow drag of his lips.

I let my hands drop in the meantime, rubbing them over his clothed back. He’s still wide like he used to be, but he has lost his muscles that were built thanks to Imelda’s rigorous training for quidditch. And our adventures too. Not only did he lose his bulk, but also his strength which was proven a few moments ago. A reminder that he has gone through something traumatic.

So due to his hesitant touches, and to be honest my loss of patience I bring my hands forth, over his arms to the front, finding the buttons of the collared shirt I’ve got him to wear. Luckily, he didn’t bother with the waistcoat, so my intention gets quickly realized as I undo the garment.

He breaks the kiss due to my touched, his breath hitching as my hands come in contact with his chest, one of his hands grasping my wrist gently stopping me in my ministrations.

‘’Mc I…’’ he pauses looking between us instead at me, his cheeks, and ears flushed pink.

Wordless I understand him right now. Pulling my hands back I offer a big-closed lip smile his eyes turning to look at me in fright.

‘’It’s okay.’’ I speak softly grabbing the tucked part of my own collared shirt. He shifts in a way that allows me to pull it over my head which leaves me in my chemise, Sebastian looking something between frightened and aroused as he watches me.

‘’I understand, okay?’’ I say slowly as if I’m talking to a frightened creature grasping his hand. I bring it over to my left shoulder pushing the sleeve of my chemise lower to reveal the ugly burn that stretches over my skin ‘’We don't have to do anything. Don't force yourself. We can stop. It's okay. But know that I don't want you any less. You're still you, and I'm still me. Nothing’s changed.’’

As if weak he bends down, resting his forehead against my own. His hand still on my shoulder begins to gently caress my skin whilst I bring my own back to his chest listening watching him intently for any sign of rejection. Not showing any, I proceed to touch him with utmost gentleness tracing over his stomach, chest feeling his bones all the more. This time around I kiss him in distraction, as I push the shirt over his shoulders.

Half expecting him to freeze, I’m left pleasantly surprised as he gets up and begins to push off the material, discharging it behind us. As he sits on his knees above me chest noticeably moving as he’s breathing heavily, I’m the one who’s left admiring him.

Even covered in tiny scars, scraps and hair, he’s still my Sebastian. Even this fragile and tired looking I see the fire in his eyes.

‘’Ohh Sebastian!’’ I exclaim following with a fit of giggles as his veiny hands, which I notice only now reach for the belt of my trousers. I leave my hands to rest next to my head smiling at the manhandling that he is doing.

‘’You said you weren’t fragile.’’ He taunts licking his lower lip, as the belt comes undone and is pulled off, his hands clumsy as he tears the button of my trousers off.

‘’I am not.’’ I agree watching him delighted in how he begins to pull down the clothing along with my winter socks ‘’Are you in a rush darling?’’ I bite onto my lower lip, watching as he gets rid of his own pants, rather clumsily kicking them off ‘’My, my what a pleasant sight to be blessed with.’’ I arch an eyebrow looking him up and down.

He’s quick to climb back atop of me this time nestling his hips between my legs, delivering a kiss to my shoulder the action surprising me making me blush ‘’Hey that was my line Mc.’’ He swops down to kiss me but briefly as he rolls his hips into me leaving me lost for words and my thoughts derailed at his sudden boldness.

‘’You’ve grown daring over the years.’’ He notes breaking the kiss, returning to leave kisses over the other side of my cheek, descending down my neck ‘’Shameless?’’ he asks beginning to roll his hips against me, the lack of clothing much more revealing obviously.

It’s not that our undergarments are see through, but they are made of light materials. Which enables me to fully feel him against my core. And o my gods…

I groan at a particularly prominent thrust, which pushes me higher up Sebastian not leaving for a moment, simply continuing with whatever he has in store the deviant now proceeding to mark me above my collarbones.

‘’Fearless.’’ He speaks up pressing kisses against my scar, his lips his touches making me flinch initially. But he’s holding me down tenderly, pushing the chemise lower revealing more of my skin. Revealing more of the imperfections – scars I’ve earned in his absence.

‘’You are giving me too much praise, Sebastian.’’ I frown a little, letting my fingers dance over his chest, and to his sides, his hipbones.

‘’Not nearly enough.’’ He raises above me, looking like a man entranced re-connecting our lips together, this time letting his tongue run over my bottom lip making me hum in appreciation. Growing confident due to his actions, I wrap my legs over the back of his thighs attempting to press him harder against him, his rhythm now stuttering as I grab his arse, squeezing.

He breaks the kiss offering a mischievous smirk ‘’Diabolical. Absolutely diabolical.’’

I grin at that, showing him my tongue to further entice him. Which works perfectly. He grasps my hand like a gentleman actually, prying my hands away from his still perky ass pinning my arms to the sides of my head smirking down at me not breaking eye contact.

‘’You are the love of my life.’’ The statement has me blinking a few times as I look up at him stunned ‘’My everything.’’

Unable to respond Sebastian takes the lead, taking the approach as he did in the beginning. His hold, his closeness, his kissing all gentle and slow. It gives me the sense as if…as if he’s imprinting this into his memory. Because the more we progress, and his hips begin to rut against me harder, the more I have this feeling as if he is plagued by something.

And I understand it. Giving into him, relaxing on the bed letting him take what he desires even if that means my lips will remain bruised, and climax delayed. It’s all about him.

‘’Oh Seb…’’ I moan into his mouth, shifting my hips to accommodate him further seeing the need in the glare he offers. His freckled skin is so prettily flushed, hair messy, and skin slightly damp as the room grows hotter ‘’You feel so good against me…’’ I encourage nodding pulling my right hand away to push the lose strands from his forehead smiling as he kisses my wrist in the progress, panting softly.

‘’Missed you…’’ he says strained, moving us his hardness I’m sure throbbing as it makes a mess out of me rubbing against my clit on and off again rising tingles under my fingertips ‘’…my pretty girl.’’ I smile at the compliment, dragging the top of my nails down his chest his shudder loud as he intakes breath quickly, his left hand grabbing a hold of my thigh twisting it higher the change in position making me throwback my head, as he parts my soaked folds even through the now ruined fabric.

‘’So pretty…’’ he pants biting into his lower lip, head falling next to my own. He keeps moving, and my hand keeps progressing, finally reaching the band of his undergarment, slipping my fingers inside the dampness ‘’Oh MC!’’ he suddenly grunts, as my fingers barely touch his hot and leaking manhood.

His hand like before is quick in catching and stopping my own from progressing, as he convulses and twitches, hip stuttering regularly.

Caught off guard I merely watch him dumbfounded as something warm and wet grazes against my fingers and palm, his hold preventing me from doing anything else. So, I remain still and accommodating until he slows to a gradual stop, still twitching now and then even as he releases my hand, letting me examine the fluid.

‘’I think I’ve died.’’ He utters into my neck, his breath ticklish making me smile as I bring my hand to my lips and taste him ‘’Oh I’m definitely dead.’’ His voice dips lower.

Peeking at him he’s looking at me as if I’ve put the stars in the sky, while I click my tongue ‘’I don’t think so husband dearest.’’ I smile affectionally, pushing him lightly of me and to the side, rolling on my left to face him, fingers wiped on the comforter.

‘’This must be it. The afterlife.’’ He dramatically chats ahead rolling onto his back sighing whilst I get up following him, pushing down the chemise further revealing my torso entirely, sitting next to him. He peeks at me, eyes taking me all in blush returning immediately ‘’You fair maiden, like a siren coating me into a demise I’ll gladly plumet into.’’

I grin at his poetry dipping down to kiss him gently, his right hand warm as it settles over my lower back resting there ‘’That would make us both dead.’’ I point out musing ‘’I for one am enjoying my married life very much.’’ He perks at that.

‘’A dream come, true.’’

I remain close bend over, half resting on his chest admiring him ‘’Oh its very much so a reality.’’ I begin sighing contently tracing his face with my left and free hand ‘’You and me, together again.’’ I pause to let it sink in ‘’Never to be separated again.’’ I silently promise, certain of my words as I know I will stop at nothing to protect him ‘’You are my everything too.’’ I admit seeing how his eyes slightly widen.

‘’My whole reason of being.’’ I whisper as I lean down, staring into his pretty eyes, my gaze slipping only to his lips and back up to capture them. He moans breathlessly into the kiss which is neither slow nor speedy. I keep it simple and rather, light as I focus on pushing the chemise lower whilst I climb onto his lap, my hair falling around our faces like a curtain.

‘’My Sebastian.’’ I break the kiss, imitating him from before but taking more time almost torturously so but in the best away possible as I kiss the corner of his nose, his temple, above his relaxed brown, then begin my descend down his cheek ‘’Handsome as ever.’’ I let my tongue dart out teasingly ‘’Drawing me in with your mere presence. Enough to keep me wanting you for years.’’ I groan, as I trace the side vein in his neck, still merely kissing him feeling how his hands push away the fabric of my chemise hands resting over my hips, trembling as I put a hold under his chin, directing his head in the way I want to. And he goes along with it.

He lets out little sighs, at the contact of my lips over his skin, specially whenever I ghost over a scar. I buckle my hips against his abdomen, his body jerking automatically which raises chuckles from him his whine loud.

‘’You even sound pretty.’’ I praise happily sitting up looking down at him. Seeing him breathless already, pleading eyes staring at me hair messy heart racing. Oh, how I’ve longed for him.

‘’Dashing.’’ I drag both hands, using my blunt nails to run down his chest watching as goosebumps arise over his skin ‘’Stunning, dapper, noble. There are not enough words to describe how amazing you are.’’ I lean down to steal a kiss giggling like a schoolgirl as I pull back Sebastian following. With a hand planted onto his chest I stop him in his tracks, winking. Lowering myself over his thigh I raise an eyebrow which I’m sure makes me look menacing as I can see his Adam’s apple bob.

‘’All I say it’s true. I’ve left you speechless.’’ I tease grasping the waistband, and without a second though pull down the fabric, watching as his manhood bobs up onto his stomach, body twitching again, his legs obviously in place as I’m settled on him.

‘’N-not true.’’ He gets out rising onto his elbows, as I observe the remnants of his release. Seeing there is to be a lot more movement and manoeuvring to get him rid of his undergarment, I grab the material and with some strength put into it tear it apart, Sebastian left with his mouth parted in a small ‘o’ shape.

‘’Ah it’s all very true.’’ I continue letting the now ruined material fall of the edge of the bed as I lie myself between his legs, my own hanging of the bed. Meanwhile I let my hands run up and down his thighs, smiling up at him ‘’I was never able to lie to you. I don’t see the appeal of trying it now.’’ I cheekily say, dipping down to press a kiss onto the side of his inner thigh, the muscles tensing at my ministration.

‘’Shhh relax, my love. Relax.’’ I encourage, looking up at him. I run my nails over his other thigh, whilst starting to suck lovely marks that will bloom later for a reminder.

‘’Enchantress.’’ He grinds through his teeth ‘’A divinity.’’

Thanks to his high praise I let my tongue out, dragging it over his thigh making a show of it ending up moving up like a predator keeping my gaze as such, chin tilted downwards as I lick at his half-hard cock the twitch immediate.

‘’It’s merely me, Sebastian.’’ I say in a low tone, grasping his manhood with my right hand rising it up taking it in, the veins, the head, everything only after looking at him. He looks destroyed already, something I always dreamed of seeing ‘’Only me.’’

And with that I experimentally suck on his tip, the groan he lets out sounding like someone is strangling him whilst his body tenses hands grasping the duvet underneath us twisting it.

With some focus I pry my left hand from his thigh, taking his hand in my own his hold tense. It doesn’t deter me, as I run my tongue over the mushroom head licking the excessive precum, not enjoying the taste but enduring it gladly, seeing how he keeps trashing – and I’ve barely done anything.

Giving him some mercy thanks to the pleading look he gives me I relent, and begin to sink on his cock, flattening my tongue as I descend, closing my eyes as I concentrate on my breathing. I barely get him in my gag reflex already making my throat contract, so I help myself with my right hand, droll dripping from my lips.

Ignoring the tears in my eyes I push forward sucking once, making it my mission to please him further by sinking more.

‘’No, no, no stop, Mc please…’’ he raises up hands gentle as they cup my cheeks pulling me off him. I gasp for air, not minding the spilled tears or droll. Neither does he as he’s quick to wipe them.

‘’I’m sorry I didn’t mean…’’ I begin to panic thinking I did something wrong, and that didn’t like, even as he shakes his head his smile shaky at best, the kiss that follows not so reassuring.

‘’You did wonderful.’’ He breaks away to reassure me holding onto me firmly, readjusting his hold so he can manhandle me this time to sit back, higher over his thighs and to be level with him ‘’You’re a minx, a temptress you are. More perfect than I ever imagined I swear it.’’ He grins happily pressing a chaste kiss ‘’But I don’t want to cum so soon.’’ He looks at me in despair mixed with hope.

‘’You…wow…’’ it daunts on me his extreme reaction, as I observe his face needing to make sure he is telling me the truth ‘’Okay.’’ I find myself saying his smile winning over my heart all over again as he pulls me against him, his cock right underneath me, hot and hard.

‘’I simply cannot resist you.’’ He confesses hugging me for the moment being ‘’You are truly everything to me. You’re too good to me. I want to make you feel good too.’’ and with those words and his strategically placed hands on my chemise he rips the pants portion at first, ending up destroying it with more ease than I did pulling the material away from us.

‘’You already make me feel good.’’ I state planting my knees into the mattress, my right-hand dipping between us, and through my slit collecting the wetness which I then raise up ‘’See?’’ my tongue lowers again. I hold his chin with my left hand, offering two of my fingers. He gets the hint opening his mouth tongue peeking out to which I let him taste me ‘’Hmmm.’’ I moan lightly smirking, pulling my fingers out.

I grasp his dominant hand dipping both of our hands to my folds, the astonishment on his face one I shall remember forever, as he does a double take, his fingers departing from my own making me shudder and groan as he touches my clit.

‘’See what you do to me?’’ I begin my breathing slightly unsteady as he doesn’t pull away ‘’Feel how wet I am for you. What you do to me Sebastian.’’ I gasp as one finger prods at my entrance, entering me gradually his face one of concentration and observation.

A face I’ve seen many times before when we were studying. But never have I seen it in this context which sheds a whole new light on him. He nods at my words slowly ‘’Guess what?’’ I grin close to press my lips against his ear to be a tease, while he wiggles in a second fingers making me sigh at being finally touched ‘’This is all you. Noone else can do this to me. Only you. Always you.’’

He moans at that, ending up groaning as he pulls his fingers out, rolling us on the bed, time for laughter over as I’m once more on my back, but with him spreading my legs wide open making a place for himself between them, his manhood hot as he rubs it against my wet folds.

Bent over, one hand reaches to hold the back of my head angling me however he wants me, his lips bruising as he demands all of my attention. And it’s what he gets as I moan helpless as his cock begins to push inside me. He breaks apart as if in disbelief, gasping for air the bravado gone the more he pushes in, the stretch pleasant and exciting as I want him to hurry along.

But lost in the way he’s handling us, the way he feels, I get lost in the way he looks how intense this is for him, how taunt he goes once he bottoms out, looking at me incredulously.

‘’It’s not a dream.’’ I find myself saying grasping his head forcing him to stay grounded ‘’It is all real.’’ I grin seeing the wobble in his lower lip ‘’My husband.’’ I remind by showing him my ring, ending up dropping onto the bed, as he thrust catching me of guard.

‘’Whow.’’ I say in awe blinking up at him and then glancing down to see us connected.

‘’My wife.’’ He finally speaks ‘’Mc.’’ He says my name clearer to which I nod.

‘’Yours Seb. Only yours.’’ I reassure my body this time jerking as he pulls back and rather harshly thrust back in. It’s proof of inexperience and the fact that he is driven by need mirrors our days in school perfectly. We’d fool around, take risks, we’ve explored each other’s bodies, and have been each other firsts. But it sadly didn’t go further as he was taken prisoner soon after our night of love-making that resulted in some tears but unbroken promises.

‘’M-mine. Only mine Mc.’’ He nods vigorously repositioning his hand, one on my hip one on the bed a look of determination drawing itself across his features ‘’Mine.’’ He says like it’s a matter of fact, pulling back only to set up a rather ruthless pace. Having imagined our reunion in these kinds of circumstances as well – because I have needs to duh – I’ve not imagined him to be like he is.

To just take from the get-go in such a manner. He was always delicate when it came to the more intimate matters, even with his eagerness and firey passion. I can see both of that here, I can feel it in the way he’s changing and angling his hips differently, eyes focused solemnly on my face as I hold onto the bed for dear life, the feeling of what were merely tingles before now turned into live sparks, that are zapping through my body.

It has my toes and fingers curling, the need to curl in on myself great as my thighs begin to shake, my lower abdomen pooling with insane amount of heat. It has tears gather in my eyes once more but this time for other reasons as I feel good all over it being overwhelming.

I practically shout as something brushes my clit. It has me forcing my eyes open as I see Sebastian lick his fingers and drop it to my clitoris, his hand calloused and rough but oh my gods its perfect and exactly what I crave for. What I need.

‘’That’s it, Mc.’’ He approves a small smile forming on his lips ‘’You feel so good.’’ His jaw goes tight as he clenches his teeth, suddenly pinching my clit.

‘’Ah fuckkkk Sebastian.’’ I yelp shaking my head ‘’Harder, fuck me harder, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum…’’ I repeat like a broken record suddenly hugging myself keeping my breast from bouncing as an electric current is running all over.

‘’And who is making you…ugh…cum huh? Who is the one…ahhh, cherishing you like you deserve…ugh to be?’’ he says through his teeth, his gaze wild as he stops for a moment twisting my left leg over his chest and shoulder changing everything entirely the new angle, making my eyes cross over one of Sebastian’s hands pushing my arms away as he grabs onto my boob, squeezing it.

‘’Y-y-you.’’ I reply shakily having a death grip on his arm not knowing what else to do. It’s hard to process that I need to breathe at the moment, my body doing things on its own.

‘’I didn’t hear you, dear wife.’’ He barks with an edge in his voice. His eyes. His demeanour.

But it’s not enough to make me realize it, as he leaves me absolutely dumb on his cock, the only thing on my mind selfishly is to cum.

‘’You, you, you, you Sebastian.’’ I speak strained my muscles contracting, as his hand resumes circling my clit sealing the deal ‘’My Sebastian, mine.’’ I babble, eyes closing tight as white noise fills my ears barely registering the noises I’m still making, only feeling how he rocks against me, how he moves so precise and hard the orgasm washing over otherworldly as it keeps going on.

Faintly I am aware of Sebastian manoeuvring me into another pose, continuing past the shakes and trembles that overrun everything else. Sooner or later something in my brain kicks it into gear to pump air into my lungs as I breathe heavily, enjoying the tingling but otherwise spent.

Feeling an arm settle over my stomach is what encourages me to come back so to speak. I raise a hand up to wipe away the corner of my eyes only then prompting them open. Looking around I acknowledge we have been turned to lie comfortably on the bed with our heads cushioned against the pillows.

Or well…mine. Glancing down feeling the heat radiating on my right it’s Sebastian. Instead of backing away like I’d assume men would do, he has plastered himself onto my right side, using my bicep as a cushion, one arm thrown over my mid-section, one leg over my right.

Dropping my arm, I’m surprised to find he is awake and has come to his senses quicker than I have as he grasps my left hand, fingers dancing with my own. It doesn’t take him long to feel the outline of the wedding ring.

‘’I didn’t even get you an engagement ring.’’ He mutters bending my hand holding it above my chest as he examines my hand and the piece of jewellery.

‘’Technically that would be on me too.’’ I think aloud my voice slightly hoarse. Must be the screaming ‘’I did propose and marry us.’’ I snort ‘’Did all the heavy lifting, didn’t I?’’

I turn to look down at him, just as he peeks up at me, fingers intertwining with my own as he rests our hands next to me for comfort.

‘’I did have a ring.’’ Is what he says, the statement leaving me bewildered which I’m not quick enough to hide as he sighs, looking away ‘’I had a few ideas for proposing. A few spots to choose from.’’ He quiets down again. Bending my right hand, I start to caress his back in reassurance.

‘’Knowing you back then, you had the most rageous ideas, didn’t you?’’ I smirk looking ahead of us at the painting I have above the dresser. It’s a muggle painting so it doesn’t move, but it depicts a castle in Scotland. A castle that’s very similar to Hogwarts. It was too charming not to buy.

‘’You’ve no idea.’’ He blows air looking up at me ‘’I think you’d flat out reject me at some of the propositions I had in mind.’’

I laugh ‘’I probably would.’’ I agree looking down to meet his gaze amused. We fall silent.

‘’I tried to tame a dragon…’’

‘’Oh, Seb noo!’’

‘’Heyyyy I was head over heels! I’d do anything! You deserve the best!’’ he rambles as I laugh in amusement observing as he raises onto his left elbow looking at me adoringly ‘’I swear.’’ He chuckles ‘’I was foolish at times and even stupid. But crazy? I was crazily in love with you. And that has not changed.’’ His smile is exactly the smile he used to have back then.

And it slowly daunts on me. Reality sinking in. That he is here to stay. I have finally freed him. He is in my grasp. He still loves me.

‘’Oh hey, no tears. Why the tears?’’ he jumps as they gather quickly and are instant to fall down my cheeks ‘’Mc.’’

Instead of answering I kiss him softly.

‘’I’m just so happy.’’ I admit smiling widely ‘’You make me incredibly happy it’s all.’’

At this he is taken aback features softening, and I’m sure his own eyes filling with tears ‘’Me too Mc. Me too.’’

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

// Masterlist 2024 //

Copyright 2024© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 2

Two sharp claps woke Eddie that following morning.

Followed by the whirring sound of some kind of motor, and then gradually, sunlight.

Sunlight travelled up his face until it hit his eyes directly, lighting up all the little veins behind his eyelids that nobody ever really wanted to see but no matter which way he shoved his head into the pillow, and he did try left and right…

He couldn’t dodge the sunlight.

“Wakey Wakey rockstar!” He was awake. Wide awake, sat up very straight very quickly and then everything felt very wrong when his world spun and— “awh shit Eddie, not again. Hold it! Don’t you dare, not until I—” chunks hit the floor about two seconds before a bucket would have been in place to catch it all. The shockingly red bucket held frozen in place where it’d failed to reach him. “Get there.”

Whoever that was sounded so disappointed.

Eddie had no idea why, but he felt like death. The sunlight hurt his eyes, and his head ached like he’d been hit by a brick wall, not him walking into one, no, one falling on him.

“Ngghhh” he groaned, before spitting what remained in his mouth out into the bucket, for what it was worth.

“What did you do last night, Eddie?” Eddie lifted his head up slowly, trying not to agitate his throbbing headache any more than it already was. With squinted eyes, he struggled to make out the person in front of him, but even when his focus returned, he couldn’t place exactly who the guy was, nor… where he was.

The room he was in was… large.

A huge open space with beige walls sparsely decorated by what looked like gaudy hotel art, he didn’t recognise the bedsheets either, softer than his usual ones, and when he finally found his eyes able to focus against the harsh direct light of the windows, with his hand shielding them a little, the large floor to ceiling windows of his room looked out across a city skyline.

“Who… who’re you?” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Mystery guy didn’t look too impressed.

“Are you kidding me? Who—who am I? That’s how bad it is? You’re so fucked up you’ve forgotten me this time? I swear to god every fucking time Eddie. Every single goddamn time it’s like this and you just—I keep falling for it!!” Every pitchy hike of that voice had Eddie wincing back “What excuse will it be this time Eddie? It was just ‘one last time?’ Or what about your greatest hit ‘everyone else was doing it’, or maybe you’ll just wave it away like it doesn’t even matter? What did you even take?!” Eddie just wanted to hide, he wanted to hide under the mystery covers, away from this loud person who seemed to know him but…

Eddie was still drawing a blank.

The last thing he remembered, the last thing he clearly remembered, was being in the trailer after coming home from the faire, he remembered… he remembered—

“Where’s… where’s Stephan?” He remembered the Genie.

“Stephan? Who the fuck is Stephan? Are you—motherfucker are you cheating on me?! Who the FUCK is Stepha—” the bedroom door opened, cutting off the mystery mans tirade before Eddie could think too deeply about the idea of cheating on someone he didn’t even know, and like straight out of some kind of sit com, in walked the man himself.

All that was missing was an audience cheer track.

“I’m Stephan, Louie. Please get out.” ‘Louie’ straightened up, face seemingly set into a permanent scowl, he’d have probably been attractive if Eddie’s first encounter with him wasn’t that.

“Steve? Where the hell have you been?! You let him get like thi—”

“Get out Louie, or I remove you.” Arms crossed over broad chest, frame tall, broad, his attire less like it was in the trailer, now he wore a simple white button down and a pair of black slacks. Imposing despite its simplicity. “And make no mistake I will remove you.” He added, tone just as firm as his stance, Louie faltered, resolve quickly crumbling under that impressive presence.

“Fine, but I’m done with this. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t support him like this, so… please have my things sent to my apartment in Chicago. I’m finished.” And out he went, without even so much as a backwards glance to the deeply confused man still in bed, door slammed behind him leaving him alone with ‘Steve’.

“…Stephan?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“What the fuck is going on?” The outfit melted away, replaced with a glittering twinkle of a stereotypical magical effect, by the peasant garb he’d worn in the trailer. It was him.

He was real.

Stephan, or… Steve. Steve was easier, he was going to use Steve. Steve offered him his best attempt at an apologetic smile, before approaching to sit on the edge of the bed. “World fame, big shot. You’re lucky I didn’t dump you mid-way through one of your gigs, or worse, last night. Sorry but this was the uh… lesser of many evils. You’re currently in LA staying at a hotel midway through a press tour to advertise your new album, and that… was Louie. Your boyfriend of… three months now? Underwear model, definitely too young for you, I never approved but hey, who listens to the Genie? Nobody, because you’re all too ‘metal’ to listen to the Genie.”

That was… so much information at once. The room still felt like it was spinning, Louie had left the bucket on the floor next to the throw up. Eddie kind of wanted to throw up again. He couldn’t even process the ‘boyfriend’ thing.

“Can… can I wish to feel better?” He was almost proud of himself for coming up with that one.

“Sure you can.”

“I wish I felt better.” A snap of Steve’s fingers, and all those aches, all those pains, the headache the nausea the spinning, it all just. Vanished. Kind of disorientating but, for less than a second, and he was fine. Clear as a whistle, never felt better than he did in that moment. “Holy shit…” Steve smiled. He was prettier than Louie when he smiled.

“You’re welcome. Listen Eddie… I’ve basically disguised myself as your bodyguard in this reality, I exist as a normal person in your life, your band know me, your friends know me, I will be there in all realities we walk through together in some way shape or form. But this one… this one is tricky.”

“Can I wish for the throw up to be gone cause it’s starting to smell.”

“Go ahead.”

“I wish the throw up was gone.” Another snap, both the vomit, and the bucket were gone “oooh bucket too, you overachiever” Steve snorted a little laugh, shaking his head, making his softly coifed bangs sway lightly. “Where were you when I needed to clean my room last month?”

“Please be serious, Eddie, only for a moment.” Eddie settled in the bed, hands in his lap, totally fixed on Steve. Then he noticed he had new tattoos on his hands and suddenly that was way more interesting. As were the tattoos up his arms, a whole sleeve, no. Both sleeves! He looked down at his chest, MORE tattoos, and— Steve grabbed the covers before he could lift them to check his lower half. “Eddie.” Oop. The tone was firm, not quite as intimidating as the one Steve had used on Louie, but… Eddie stilled.

“I’m listening big guy.”

“You wished for world fame, that your band were to become world famous. That does not happen in a blink of an eye, Eddie. Not even by magic. That happens with years of experience, of effort, it happens with dive bars, basement, and garage gigs, it happens with multiple awful record deals that limit and exploit you until you find something that works, it takes nearly breaking apart, it takes, and it takes, and it takes, but what it takes the most of… is time. Eddie. It takes time.” And wasn’t that sobering.

He looked at his hands again. Saw the weathered lines amidst the tattoos for the first time.

Steve didn’t stop him this time from looking beneath the covers, there were more tattoos, way more than he remembered having, but there were lines where lines shouldn’t be, scars where scars shouldn’t be, there were wrinkles in places he was too young to have wrinkles in. Weathered.

He looked weathered.

Steve could only be sympathetic about it, could only appear softened, like he knew this would be tough, but he couldn’t really do anything about it.

“…How much time, Steve?” His fingers gripped the covers tight, he could feel his heart in his throat, thumping away faster as anxiety skyrocketed. He was older. His wish was world fame he didn’t think about anything other than that. It wasn’t even supposed to work Steve was supposed to just be some crazy homeless person who walked in from the cold.

He wasn’t supposed to be real.

“About thirty years?” Eddie pinched himself again on autopilot. It hurt. Silently, he threw his covers off of himself, and stood, the room didn’t spin like it had been earlier and nothing hurt like before, Steve’s magic working like a charm. Still silent, he crossed the room to the bathroom, turned on the light, and found himself looking at… a stranger.

No. It was still him. But he was struck with the thought of why someone like Louie, youthful and handsome as he’d been even in his anger, would want something like him? Wrinkled skin, bags under his eyes, his body slimmer than it ever ought to be and his hair… still long and badly maintained, but now peppered with streaks of grey. “What…” his voice croaked, his hand lifting to rub at the loose skin of his cheeks. Gaunt. Weathered. “What happened to me?”

“Addiction mainly.” Steve was there, behind him in the doorway, close but not touching. Never touching. He held a robe in his hand.

“I don’t do—”

“Mmm… you didn’t… not at first. You smoked but… drugs were more a business venture to you than a vice, right?” Absently, Eddie nodded. He’d dealt his fair share of weed, so what? How had he gone from dealer to— “one of those record labels that didn’t fit. You see… it’s easy to keep a band relevant and making money, when they’re always making headlines, good or bad, it doesnt matter, getting publicly trashed makes some people more money than it loses. Coupled with heartbreak, encouragement, and easy access… impulse control was never your strong suit, was it?” He spoke like he knew him. Maybe he did, Steve had said a genie knew its master, right? “World fame has its dark side. There’s no gain without some form of suffering, Eddie, especially when the gain is as gigantic as world fame.”

“Can—can I go back?”

“Of course you can, you need only wish it. However… I don’t think you should though. Not yet. This is jarring, seeing yourself like this, it’s incredibly jarring, however… you asked for world fame and haven’t even experienced it. Just a small downside. Why don’t you live the day, think of it as an opportunity to experience what this is like, maybe it’ll help you achieve some goals in your own time.” Eddie’s eyes returned to his own reflection, taking it in…

He kind of looked like Wayne. There were worse people he could look like in his older years, especially since people had always claimed he looked like his father. But no... he looked like Wayne. He took some comfort in that.

“…Will it be safe?” Steve regarded him with silence for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to understand. “Nothing’s ever totally safe, is it?”

“No, it’s not. But as your bodyguard I’ll be as close as I can at all times. You don’t need to ask if you can wish it either, if you want to go home, just wish it, and it’ll be done, alright?” Steve stepped forwards into Eddie’s space, and carefully draped the robe over his bare shoulders as Eddie nodded his acknowledgement and pulled the robe tighter around himself, Steve’s hands still there, a pleasantly warm and grounding weight on his shoulders. “Now you should shower, and get yourself dressed. You have a few things to do today so I’ll be waiting outside to take you to your first thing once you’re ready.”

Eddie was almost scared to ask. “Which is?”

“Breakfast of course, but then you’re taping a talk show so chop chop!”

Two quick claps in succession and Steve was off, headed for the door to give him some privacy as if he hadn’t just seen Eddie completely nude, ignoring the sharp, “A what?!” That followed from the bathroom as he exited the suite.

Part 4

[zombiigrll]

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☆ ON THE EDGE ⋆ CH.2 ⋆ YOUR SPOT ☆

.ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.8K

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

-

'i'm rick grimes, welcome to alexandria.'

-

your eyes widened slightly at what seemed like a pretty instant decision. you were sure it was because of how you flinched when he almost shot you, or the fact that you were obviously younger and not seemingly a threat.

once you realized you were staring for a bit, you cleared your throat and nodded vigorously. "oh, yeah, sorry. thank you."

you followed him into the gates, and into the yard of what he called alexandria. "i'll show you around later, but i think you would like a shower?" rick asks, walking in the direction of what you assume was his home.

you look down at your clothes, and examine just how dirty you were compared to everyone else. "yes, please." you laughed, following him into his house.

he walks up to a bedroom, and tells you to wait outside of it. you lean against the wall and wait for him to come back out.

"here, some clean clothes." rick smiles, handing over a neatly folded pile of a shirt, flannel, and sweats. "these are my son's clothes, but you can borrow them for now."

you carefully take the pile from him, trying your best not to drop it or mess it up. "thank you."

"of course. the bathroom is right there, take as long as you need and i'll be back to show you around later." he waves as he walks away.

you wave back at him before stepping into the bathroom. it was clean, and honestly felt really weird to be in. i mean, months of your only 'shower' being the rain, of course it'd be weird to see a real shower.

...

after a while of sitting in the shower, and re-familiarizing yourself with how to take a shower, you were cleaned and dressed.

you wiped the fog off of the mirror that was hung above the sink, and took in your 'new appearance.'

brushed out hair, clean face, clean clothes, clean everything. you hadn't even really seen yourself for months until now. the next thing you needed was probably a haircut, but you set that thought away to be a discussion for another time.

you exited the bathroom a bit anxiously, looking around for rick. but instead, you spotted a boy.

he was wearing a sheriff's hat, had a bandage across his eye, long brown hair, and a light blue eye.

he looks over at you from behind the kitchen counter, setting a cup down. "can i help you?"

your eyebrows raise. "uh.." your mind goes blank, unsure what to say. "why do you have an eyepatch?" you blurt out, mentally facepalming once you realize what you had asked him.

"why are you wearing my clothes?" the boy snaps back, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you.

you nod. "sorry. um, what's your name?"

"i'm carl." he takes a sip of his drink. "now, who are you?"

"i'm y/n." you sighed. you felt so anxious, like there was a knot growing in your stomach. "i.. sorry i stole your clothes. your dad said i could borrow them. i think he felt bad because he almost shot me."

carl's eye widens, along with his brow raising. he chuckles lightly. "of course. it's fine, i don't mind."

you sighed in relief. a longer sigh than you meant to, but apparently you were holding your breath at some point.

before you could say anything else, the front door opened. it was rick, again.

"i see you two met." rick smiles, setting his bag down. "i'm ready to show you around, y/n."

you turn and nod to him before waving goodbye to carl.

...

the tour was quite short. he showed you where the nurse was, their armory, their food, all of it. he also informed you that you could stay in their house unless you found somewhere else.

so, you returned back to the grimes' household.

rick told you where some blankets and pillows were, and said you could just bring them back to the couch. you made the couch into your own little bed, and once you sat down, it felt like paradise. you had been sleeping on rocks and sticks forever, so it really was the softest thing you’ve ever felt.

you turned on the television, and it started playing a cd that hadn’t been paused previously. it was a colorful cartoon, and it seemed to be some sort of halloween special.

you were entranced by the moving pictures, tuning out everything around you. that was until you heard the sound of someone running into a wall.

you quickly turned your head to the noise, and spotted the one-eyed sheriff.

he looked at you with widened eyes, like he had been caught. he was wearing a backpack, and had his gun around his waist.

“are you okay?” you inquire, examining his features and panicked expression.

he takes a moment to respond, rummaging for an answer. “uh, yeah.” a sigh leaves his mouth, averting his eyes. “just.. don’t tell anyone you saw me leave. i’ll be back in the morning.”

you twist your brows, making a curious expression at him. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.“where are you going?”

“don’t worry about it.” he dismisses your question and swiftly exits the house.

you watch him walk out the door, and you couldn’t help but start getting your shoes on. you were worried for him, although you knew he knew what he was doing, and you were also just curious. you didn’t have anything to lose anyways.

you grabbed your knife as you quietly walked out the door, following a good distance behind him.

he walked for quite some time and didn’t notice you, but you recognized the direction he was going toward. it seemed to be the same direction you found the comics at.

you watch him sit down, rummaging through the box from before. you turn to get a better look, but accidentally step on a stick that cracked beneath your feet.

carl jumps, quickly pulling his knife out, but then he spots you. you put your hands up defensively.

“…really?” he groans, putting his knife away and picking his discarded comic back up. “what the hell are you doing?”

you silently shrug, sitting down across from him. “this is your spot?”

“yeah, why?” carl's eyes stay peeled on his comic as he speaks to you.

“i slept here the other day.” you mess with your nails as you talk, a wave of anxiety flooding over you. you were never a really anxious person, so you couldn’t pin exactly why you were so anxious now. maybe it was the unfamiliarity of acceptance.

he raises his eyebrows with a nod, laughing to himself. “did you read my comics?”

“…maybe.” you sheepishly grin at him, to which he smiles back.

he sets his comic back down to look at you. “where were you before you came to alexandria?”

you press your lips together nervously at his curiosity. you didn’t think he would ask so many questions, but you felt obligated to answer them. “i wasn’t really anywhere. i’ve always been in the woods, just by myself. you and your dad were the first people i’ve talked to in weeks.”

“is there a reason for that?”

“is there a reason to you asking me questions?” you jokingly ask, laughing to yourself a bit.

he laughs along with you. “sorry. if you wanna ask me something, you can.”

you think for a moment. “uhm..” your mind goes completely blank.

you could tell that he was aware of your lack of social interaction. he looked intensely at your nervous expression. “don’t feel pressured.” carl reassures you, giving you a sympathetic smile. “take your time.”

you nod. the only question that could come to your mind being “do you have any siblings?”

he nods. “yes. my little sister, her name is judith. she’s pretty young, she was, uh.. born during all of this.”

you smile at him, the sound of a little girl was something you don’t hear often. “i wanna meet her. i had siblings, but i never really saw them. they were always busy. same with my parents.”

you didn’t know why you felt so comfortable dumping things to the boy, but he was just so… calming? the way he looked at you as you spoke, he was completely entranced.

“where were your parents?” he softly asked after a moment, sounding understanding that it could be a sensitive topic.

you simply just shrugged. “i don’t know. they were always just gone.” it was the truth. you never saw them, and they never told you why. they never could now either.

carl sympathetically nods. “i’m sorry.”

your eyes widen, his reaction leading your mind leading you to believe you could’ve overshared. it wasn’t out of character for you to do so. “no, no, i’m sorry. i.. i didn’t mean to overshare or something.”

“hey, calm down.” he calmly spoke. “i don’t care. i asked you, and you answered. you didn’t overshare.”

you awkwardly stared at him for a moment before quickly averting away, a lopsided grin appearing along your face.

you guys had just met a few hours ago, and you already felt so much. you were overwhelmed by it all. his kindness, his attitude, his humor.. and well, i guess his looks, as well.

all in a positive way, of course. he was like nothing you'd ever seen before. he was beautiful to you, in every way possible.

you looked back up to him, moving your knees up to your chest and resting your chin atop of them. "so.. do you go back home, or do you sleep here?"

"i usually come here when i can't sleep." he answers with a laugh. "if you're tired, you can go back."

you shook your head quickly. "no. i don't want to go back."

"do you want me to go with you?"

"no." he looked at you, not believing your answer.

he shrugged nonetheless, picking up a comic. you watched him silently until he looked back at you. "do you want a comic?"

you nodded, moving over to his side. he hands you a random comic and continues to read his own. you open it up, and just.. stare at the page.

like the last time you were here, you really just stared at the pages of the comic, looking at the pictures instead of reading. carl took note of this, setting his comic down again.

"are you okay..?" he laughs at your blank expression.

you look back at him, feeling your chest get tighter in embarrassment. "..i can't read it." you quietly spoke. you could feel your face getting hotter as his expression turned from perplexed to understanding.

but, instead of him judging, he took the comic from you. he set it down where you could still look at the photos, then began reading it for you.

he did slight dramatic voice acting, which made the both of you laugh. it was a very heartwarming moment for you, and you'd hope it was for him as well.

and then, you started falling asleep next to him.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[roomsofangel]

IN THE ABSENCE OF EVERYTHING, I PROMISE TO KEEP YOU WARM . . jeong yunho

“you’ve ruined me for anyone else, i don’t think i could ever stop loving you even if i wanted to.”

pairing idol!yunho x fem!reader

one sided dislike/hatred. sunshine x grumpy. could be seen as an enemies to lovers but it’s all one sided on y/n’s end and she just doesn’t like him in the beginning while yunho is completely oblivious, but still matches her energy.

genre angst, fluff, smut, fic.

synopsis ateez are on a much needed break after their recent comeback — traveling overseas for a short-term vacation, yunho desires nothing more than just to ease himself and let go of worries.

but with a run in with someone he deems an angel in human skin, yunho learns she doesn’t know who he is and pretends to be someone else.

filled with secrets and a burning romance, yunho learns that no matter what you do or how hard you try, life just isn’t fair.

and he only had himself to blame.

warnings mature themes, mainly due to language. a lot of dishonesty. hurt without comfort if i’m being honest. nsfw later on. arguments and miscommunication. reader and yunho don’t have a good first impression at all, and they both don’t use the most nicest words at first. a lot of talk of mental health, exhaustion, and being overworked.

notes this is told in past tense, yunho’s pov. think of it as you are listening to him tell the story after it all ended, only knowing his side. this was also going to be a one shot, but i instead have changed my mind and went with original idea when first planning this, and this will be a fic.

a/n this is a repost! so if it sounds familiar i originally posted this with my old blog mothworked!

status ongoing

started 05/06/23

completed n/a

reblogs & comments are very appreciated and also help out a lot! thank you for reading and giving my work a chance ^_^

. . . # chapters !

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | to be continued. .

PREVIEW BELOW. . !

yunho hasn’t been happy in a while.

he doesn’t know when or where this sudden realization came into place, nor does he know when the feeling of numbness even decided to pop in for a chat as if it was a distant relative who came over for the holidays and refused to be put to bed.

he just knows he hasn’t been the same person after their comeback — assuming that he was only overworked, this will cease.

it didn’t.

his hands shoved his clothes into the oversized suitcase, hearing the zipper tug and close his belongings all tightly knit together, yunho let out a huff of air, allowing himself to pause for a minute, take in everything while staring blank at the pompompurin keychain he had setting on his nightstand with the mental reminder to hook it onto his bag to match with mingi — “will this actually do anything?” he voiced outloud, grumbling before pulling and rolling the suitcase off his bed and down the hall, “i’m here.”

the first person to lift their heads towards him was hongjoong who smiled in response, eyes showing he was just as exhausted and eager for this break, “does anyone know where we’ll be going?” he asked

“california — not so bad, huh?” seonghwa acknowledged, a light tone to ease the tension created from just the lack of care to their needs that begun to radiate off of then in their tones and actions

and yunho wanted to believe him, he really did.

but the feeling in his chest was yelling at him otherwise.

“san’s birthday is coming up,” yeosang mentioned one night while he and yunho unpacked, the two sharing a room together after losing a game of rock paper scissors

yunho could recall the shade the walls were painted, green lily. mingi was the one who mentioned the color by name and it had made them all erupt in fits of giggles on how — and why, he knew something like that but thanked him nonetheless, san announcing the dorms should be painted the same shade before getting a pillow aimed towards his head by a sleepy jongho

and now, yunho was scurrying around downtown LA, attempting to find a good present for his friend. why was gift shopping so hard? would san even like it? no, scratch that, san loved anything given to him — he was just a big ball of sunshine.

it was yunho who wouldn’t deem it good enough.

maybe coffee would help, yeah, that would. just something to distract his neverending nerves so he can think better. he should’ve asked seonghwa, he thought to himself.

the sky was clear, the sun being bright and reflecting on his freshly dyed scalp, it was his mind that was clouded and unable to steer in one set direction — not fully processing where he was going, only aware he was aiming towards that coffee shop he noticed. oh, if he knew then, he would’ve turned around.

colliding with a body, soft gasps and cold drink being spilled on his warm skin, “fuck,” he cursed out loud at the sudden temperature and new situation

and that’s when his eyes met yours.

but with the way his day and emotions had been, he didn’t intend for his next words to be come off so harsh, “i’m sorry”

you looked at him with an annoyed expression, brows knitted tightly together, “just watch where you’re going now i have to deal with a day without my drink.”

scoffing, yunho shook his head, “i wouldn’t be talking if i were you, you basically were fucking naurto running into my chest,”

you let out a huff, “naurto running?!” running your fingers through your hair, you shook your head, “if i wasn’t so mad, i would have laughed.”

“i can get you another one,” yunho tried to compromise, not wanting a feud with a stranger over a drink

plus, he wasn’t sure if you knew he was an idol and if you did, he didn’t have any desire to end up on an article, his thoughts broken by your scoff

“no fuck you, i wanted that one,” you folded your arms over your chest, eyes darting to the floor before you started getting napkins to clean up, yunho unaware of why he followed behind

“are you this uptight all the time?” yunho blurted, earning his chest to hit your back before you turned with raised brows

“only to dumbasses who make me spill my drink.”

“touché.”

he finally convinced you to let him get you another drink, taking a seat by you while the straw was between your lips and your fingertips tapped the cold plastic cup that had water droplets decorating, “you can leave now,” you said

“don’t flatter yourself, i ordered something too,” yunho shook his head

you sneered, “your presence just annoys me.”

yunho leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbows as he looked at you with a mocking grin to tease you more, “is that any way to talk to me after i got you another tea, which may i add, at a coffee shop?” he paused, looking at you taking a bite of your cake pop, “plus that cake pop.”

“yeah.” you shrugged

yunho ordered hot chocolate, his intentions were to get an iced americano but with the day he was having, his taste changed for today, his hands holding the warm wrapped brownie he hoped to enjoy if not giving it to san later

you teased him about it which was fair, he did so about your tea.

“what’s your name?” he asked

met with silence.

“hello, are you deaf?” he titled his head in response, you looking at him with a teasing grin

“for you, yeah.”

ignoring what you had said, yunho straightened his posture, “i’m yunho and you are?”

and yet again, met with your silence

“you’re making this really herd,” he huffed

“that’s the goal.” you replied

yunho didn’t know how much longer the two of you sat in silence, eating and drinking before you began getting up to clean your area, he remembered how the strands of your hair fell in front of your face and you harshly moved them aside in annoyance, jaw clenched while you got your bag that he didn’t realize you had with you — eyed landing on a specific dangling keychain that resembled the one he had connected, before he could make a comment about coincidences, you spoke

“y/n.”

“huh?” he questioned

you dusted yourself off and laughed, “my name is y/n, you asswipe.”

that was the first time he met you

and sometimes he wished he would’ve left you alone after that

maybe the two of you would have been better

maybe you wouldn’t hate him this much

and maybe he could’ve done things differently if he had another chance

but you won’t give him one

and he knows he doesn’t deserve it after what he did.

it was almost fate.

the situation and timing could come off as such — at least, yunho wanted to believe the two of you were starcrossed lovers destined to get it right either in this life or the next one.

he didn’t expect to see you there, polished and composed, the opposite of who he met the day prior. you radiated something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get enough of.

and he couldn’t.

even now, he found himself drowning in your memory and wanting to be swept under permanently — it nearly sounds as if he was praying for a fatal outcome, but he did not want to die. he just wanted his heart back.

the same one that still stayed in your hands while yours was forcibly removed from his

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit [Part 4] - A Mouthwashing AU

Chapter 4 is here, and it's a messy one. Seriously. Read the content warning. It's Jimmy's breaking point. Seriously, this one's a doosey.

Read on AO3 here.

Content Warning:

There is not Sexual Assault in this chapter, but there are interactions written to intentionally mirror one

Forced Cannibalism

Torture with medical devices

Word Count: 3,000

If anyone feels I need to add more trigger warning tags, please let me know and I will do so.

Jimmy didn’t do much at first.  In the darkness of the Med Bay, after the screen’s sunset changed to a night scene, Curly could barely make out the outline of Jimmy’s face.

But he could see his eyes.  His empty eyes that just stared at him.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

Curly watched as Jimmy stepped forward, the artificial moon light reflecting off his face.  The captain could see the blank expression on his face.

“All you people had to do was give me time to think.”

He tapped the empty gun lock box with his foot.  He slid it quietly out of his path in his slow approach towards Curly.

“I was fixing things.  I was going to make it all better.  I was going to set things right.”

Jimmy stopped at the chair next to Curly’s bed, taking a seat.

“All you had to do was let me fucking think.”

Curly watched him, trying to keep even his breathing as still as possible.  Maybe if he was as unresponsive as possible, he’d lose interest and leave?

“What did you fucking tell them, Curly?”  The captain flinched as Jimmy hit his fist into the wall next to his head.  “First Swansea’s telling Anya who fucking knows what… Then Daisuke stops talking to me… And now they’re all acting fucking screwy.  What did you tell them?  Was it before the crash?  Or have you been giving me the silent treatment this whole time?”

Curly shook his head.  He could hear his own heartbeat starting to pick up speed.  There was something in Jimmy’s eyes tonight.  But it wasn’t good.  It was something… unstable.  And he didn’t like it being directed onto him.

“Bullshit.  Trying to tell me you’d fix everything.  You were going to throw me to the wolves.  But I forgive you.  Even though none of you have ever apologized, I forgive each and every one of you.  Every night.  But I’m cleaning up the mess.  I’m making everything all better.”

Jimmy was leaning closer, invading Curly’s space.  The captain could smell something on his breath.  Mouthwash…?

“It’s a virtuous cycle.  You should be more considerate about what I’m dealing with, honestly.  I’m trying to be the best captain I can, given the mess you left me.”

If Curly didn’t think his life was literally in the hands of this man’s mood, he would’ve rolled his eye hard enough to fall out of his head.

There was suddenly a hand on him.  A hand placed on the stump that would’ve been Curly’s hand a few months ago.  It made his breath hitch as he tried to pull back, but Jimmy gripped it.  It squeezed a bit of blood caught under the bandages, making Curly wheeze softly in pain.

“How did things get so bad?  How could you let it all go so wrong, Captain?  I always heard about what a great leader you were…”

The hand traveled from the stump very slowly up his arm.  Jimmy’s nails dragged over the edges of the bandages, making them tug on the wounded skin.  Curly tried to pull his arm away, but the pilot wouldn’t let go.  He laughed a little at the struggle.

“You���re lively tonight.  Decided to be a person today, Curly?”

The hand reached the sleeve of the hospital gown and lingered.  Fingers reached under to pick more at the bandages, digging themselves to touch his actual skin.  Curly whined, the stinging sensation traveling up and down his arm and shoulder.  Still, he continued to try and pull back.

“I still think goodness exists, Curly.  Even in circumstances like ours.  If you sit still and wait for it long enough… it will arrive.  No thanks to the people around you though.  Is that what you did?  Is that where I went wrong?”

The hand traveled up the sleeve more, squeezing at Curly’s shoulder.  The touch burned, Curly could feel the lingering touch on his skin like acid had been left there.

“Maybe that was my problem.  I didn’t sit and wait for it enough.  I just kept struggling.  But you?  You just got to be you, unstoppable you, and you were floated up the ladder.  I bet you thought you were real generous when you graciously offered me a hand to get me on the ladder.”

Finally, mercifully, Jimmy removed his hand from under the sleeve.  It was covered in blood, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he placed it on top of the hospital gown this time, still lingering at his shoulder.

“People like me don’t live, Curly.  But, then again, neither do people like you, at least now.  No, we don’t live.  We survive.  I mean, look at you.  Surviving.  Relying on all of us to do so, but you’re surviving.  Look at that.  You’re sitting here, and goodness is arriving.”

The hand started wandering away from his shoulder, moving towards his neck and chest.  Curly thought he’d be in for another attempted strangulation.  He still doesn’t understand Jimmy.  How in the great inky void he can look him in the eye, call him his best friend, and then press all of his weight down on his neck.

I hope this hurts

It seemed he really didn’t understand Jimmy how he thought, considering the strangulation would be preferable to what he ended up doing next.

The hand traced around the dips of his neck, motioning like he was going to grasp it but… It didn’t.  Instead, it wandered down, resting on Curly’s chest.  He stopped to feel Curly’s heart beat.  He smiled… sadly?  The captain really didn’t know how to read his expressions these days.

“How did things get this bad?  I feel terrible about all the things… I feel terrible.  You tried to warn me.  How fucked everything is at the top.  Why didn’t I listen to you…?”

Curly’s breath hitched again at the hand slipped under the collar of the gown, digging into and under the bandages he found there.  The Captain squirmed, even trying to shove Jimmy back with his arms, but the pilot wouldn’t budge.

“Why did you have to go check, Curly?  I never meant for you to get this hurt.  We were going to die.  We were all supposed to die.  But you had to go fucking check, didn’t you?”

Curly’s breathing picked up as the hand continued to intrude, pulling at bandages to nestle onto his skin, continuing to squeeze and wander on his chest.  In the reflection of the artificial light, the captain could see tears in Jimmy’s eyes.

“...I never expected them to come look for you… I told them I saw you run out of the cockpit right before the crash.  But you just keep ruining things, don’t you?  You kept screaming.  For a fucking hour.  How did you stay alive to scream for a whole hour, Curly?  Why wouldn’t you just fucking die?  If you did, I wouldn’t have to keep looking at you.  Wouldn’t have to keep giving you your fucking medicine.  You keep staring at me like I’m the freak here.  Why did you do this to me?”

Curly was reeling.  He left him.  He fucking heard him screaming and ignored it.  Kept rescue away for an hour.  He could remember sitting there, screaming until his voice just wouldn’t allow him.  He knew the impact took his eye, took one of his hands and that side of his chest.  But the fire ate everything else.  Trapped under rubble and expanding foam, being eaten alive by fire.

The fire took his other hand.

The rubble crushed his legs, and the fire had its fill.

The fire chewed his flesh.

And then the fire took his voice.

He remembered getting finally found and dug out by Swansea.  He remembered Anya screaming, asking where he was.  He remembered Daisuke questioning how he was still alive.

And he remembered Jimmy asking what Curly had done.

And the next thing he knew, he was waking up wrapped in bandages, half blind, sitting in front of that stupid fucking sunset.  And in indescribably agony.

All this time, he thought he just couldn’t be heard over the alarm.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

Curly snapped out of his rage fueled thoughts by Jimmy’s voice.  He didn’t even realize he was looking at him this whole time.  The grip tightened even further.  The captain could feel his skin ripping underneath his fingernails, warm blood starting to pool under his hand.

“Stop looking at me like that.”  The grip on Curly’s chest tightened, threatening to break the delicate layer of skin trying its best to heal.  “You’re always fucking looking at me like that, you’re always judging me.  You all do.  I’m sick of it.”

Jimmy mercifully let go, finally looking at the blood on his hand.  He wiped it off on Curly’s hospital gown before standing up, heading over to the drawers.

“I keep telling you to stop fucking staring at me, but you never listen.  I’m trying to help you, Curly, but I can’t do that when you’re looking at me like some kind of monster.”

He rummaged through them, silently cursing to himself.  Clearly looking for something.

“There’s enemies all around us, Curly.  They’re going to kill you.  I’m the only reason you’re alive.  You’re my friend, I’m the reason the others let you live.  You should be grateful.  But I don’t know if they’ll listen to me anymore.”

His voice was breaking, like he was ready to start weeping.

“You’re so ungrateful.  But maybe so was I.  I took your generosity for granted.  Never suspected you’d wipe your feet of me. You had so much power, power I never appreciated.  The highest rung on my ladder wouldn’t even be worth living to you.  But now…?”

He finally turned to look at Curly again.  The captain could see a glint of metal in Jimmy’s hand.

A scalpel.

No.  No, he wouldn't, right?

I hope this hurts

“You’re as powerless as I was.”

This wasn’t happening.  This couldn’t be happening.  No more did he want to scream than right this second, as Jimmy hoisted himself up on his bed and loomed over him.  The scalpel glinted in the artificial moon light.

Jimmy felt so much larger than Curly ever realized.  He could feel all of the weight of the man above him pressing down on his body.

He opened his mouth, hoping for some noise to escape, but Jimmy shoved his hand into his mouth, pressing down on his throat.

“Shhh… It’s okay.  Don’t scream.  This is for your own good.”

Jimmy held the scalpel close to his eye.  In a desperate prayer, Curly wrenched his head to look at the door.

Take Responsibility

I hope this hurts

“Who are you looking for?  The door’s locked.  No one can open that door except for you and Anya.  And… Well, we both know Anya’s not going to stop me.”

Curly felt rage burn.  It overrode his fear, the indignant fury.  An energy filled him, one he hasn’t had in months.

Take responsibility

His jaws clamped down as hard as he could.

I hope this hurts

The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.  He could feel his teeth crushing flesh.  Jimmy’s scream filled his ear as the man desperately tried to pull his hand out.  He heard the scalpel clatter somewhere on the floor.  Curly only let go when he felt his jaw go sore.

“You FUCKER!”

Jimmy gripped his hand close to his chest, looking at the damage.  Curly tasted the blood, felt it slide down his throat.  He wanted to vomit it back up, but his stomach was so empty…

There was a little knock on the Med Bay door.

“Jimmy?  You okay?”

Daisuke.

Curly opened his mouth to scream, only to have a hand press down hard on his throat, cutting off his air.

“Yes Daisuke, I’m fine .”

The door rattled a little.

“Why can’t I open the door?  Is it stuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s stuck.  I’ll find my way out, don’t worry.”

“Hold on.”

Jimmy cursed under his breath as he heard Daisuke leave.  Curly was starting to see spots in his vision as the hand pressed down harder.

“Now look what you’ve done.  They’re coming to kill us, Curly.  It’s mutiny.”

Jimmy finally let go of Curly’s neck, letting him gasp lungfuls of the stale air within the Tulpar.

“You deserve a captain’s goodbye… You haven’t had real food in months, right?  Let’s get you something to eat.  There’s no meat left in the kitchen.  But I have an idea.  Come on, Captain Curly.  We’re having a Hero’s feast.”

Jimmy climbed off of Curly and meandered back over to the cabinets and drawers.  The Captain had to think fast.  He didn’t know what Curly was thinking, but it couldn’t be good…

He tried to roll over and crawl, but where was he supposed to go?  It was just him on his little fabric island of a bed.  Then he looked down.

Nowhere to go but down.

“There we are.”

Curly didn’t even look at what Jimmy had found, just moved.  He used what strength he had to roll over and off the bed.  He tried to angle the fall in a way that wouldn’t hit his head on the chair, but it hardly mattered.  He felt the air drop out of him as his broken body hit the metal floor.

He made a slow, desperate crawl towards the door.  His entire body screamed for him to stop.  He felt barely healed tears in his skin split and bleed.  Every movement of his arms attempting to drag his weight across the floor made him feel as if he were made of lead.

“Jimbo.  What’s this about the door being stuck?”

Swansea.

Curly tried again.  Tried to scream, but now there was a work boot on his neck.  Jimmy stared down at him, a hack saw in his hand, the teeth of the blade reflecting the window screen.

“It’s just stuck, Swansea.  Don’t worry about it.  I’ll sleep in here and we’ll get me out in the morning, yeah?”

There was a long 

“Jim.  Is the door really stuck?  Or did you lock it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Swansea.”

“I mean that if you were stuck, I know how you’d actually react.  You’d be complaining about how I don’t do my fucking job by making sure the doors don’t jam.  You’re not stuck.  You’re right where you want to be.”

“Don’t be silly.  I’m just tired.”

Jimmy took the boot off of Curly’s neck, bending down to scoop him up and carry him like a bride.  He unceremoniously dropped him back on the Med Bay bed, ignoring how the captain was kicking out his limbs to make him go away.

“Unlock the door, Jim.  You know we can unlock it from our side.  No need to make this harder.”

“I told you, I haven’t locked the door.  The door will open when it needs to.”

Jimmy sounded detached.  Like the borderline sobs he was holding back a few minutes ago were a long distant memory.

“Jim?  What are you up to?”

“Nothing, Swansea.  Nothing at all.”

Curly kicked as Jimmy approach him with the saw.  There was that emptiness in his eyes again.  A quiet acceptance.  As if what he was about to do was his solemn duty.  He grabbed Curly’s leg, hard, and held it down on the bed.

“Let’s feast.”

I hope this hurts

Curly didn’t see more than feel the next few seconds.

He felt the teeth of the blade sinking into his already ruined leg.  He felt the sawing motion, as if he was a piece of ham that Jimmy was carving.  He felt his vision go white from pain, and tears well up in his eye.  He felt his own heart pounding in his chest, he could hear the saw digging into the bone.

But he could mostly hear his own scream.

The first time he had heard his own voice in months.  And it’s a scream of agony.

He felt blood pooling out of his leg, trying his best to breathe through his agony.  It felt as if Jimmy has shoved a white hot poker into the stump below his knee and twisted it.

Jimmy inspected the piece of his leg he had sawed off.  The blade was dripping crimson, his hands were soaked in it.

“There.  This should be good enough.  Feast now, Curly.”

Curly didn’t even realize when Jimmy climbed back on top of him until his face was right against his.  The darkness in his eyes was inescapable.  Like he was staring into tar pits.  He thrashed and tried to push his former friend away with his stumps, but he didn’t move.  He didn’t even flinch.  He was smarter this time, using his hand to force his jaw open instead of sticking his fingers back in.

Please please please please no no no no no

Jimmy planted a soft kiss onto Curly’s forehead.

And then shoved the piece of meat down into his mouth.

Jimmy clamped Curly’s mouth closed, covering both teeth with his hand, and holding his jaw in place with the other.

Something was paralyzed in the captain’s mind.  A part that refused to process what was happening, refused to register what was in his mouth.  He struggled with every ounce of energy his body could muster, but Jimmy has always been bigger than him.  The pilot pressed down with most of his weight onto Curly’s head and face, keeping his mouth closed as tightly as possible.

No one heard the door unlock.

“Just accept it, Curly.”  Jimmy lifted and slammed down Curly’s head over and over, trying to jostle it off his tongue.

No one heard the door open.

“It’s your last meal, enjoy it.  Be grateful it’s not more Pony Express cake.”  Jimmy pressed his hand down, muffling any noise Curly could make.  He paid no mind to the bloody stumps the captain pressed into his face.  He never broke eye contact.

No one heard Anya cry out.

“Just fucking swallow it.”  The meat fell down his throat, his body reflexively trying to choke it down.

Everyone heard the gunshot.

[stillarat]

Hold Me Here

Alt Gabriel x GN! Reader Word count: 420

Warnings: Panic attacks, body horror if you squint

Synopsis: The feeling of eyes lurking over their shoulder has been following them for weeks, though tonight it seems more comforting than usual.

Dragging their feet past the door they slung their bag into the wall underneath the coat rack. The knot in their throat grew tight as they trudged to the bedroom. Hands clenched into fist as their nails dug into skin.

They collapsed onto their bed with a heavy sigh and tears keen to spill past their eyes as they pulled themself onto their comforter. Their own choked sobs filled the room as they wept, the deafening silence of the apartment only further assured them how alone they were. Their eyes grew raw as they continued on the cycle of stifling and wiping tears, over, and over, and over it was isolated, infinite, and a true exercise in futility.

Evening began to set in when sun shone through their aged blinds, backlit as a long shadow slowly engulfed their own. The light from the windows flickered out like a lamp as with a shuddery breath they craned their head upward.

There he stood like a luxurious statue, belonging in some eccentric philanthropist’s garden, or a grand church courtyard. Yet here he stood, eyes blank without meaning, and an expression like stone. He towered past the door frame, their breath hitched in their throat as he gilded forward neck bending back to fit past the walkway. 

“What has done you so wrong myne love?” His voice crackled like static through the air.

“Who- What are you?”

“Nevermind such things, why do you weep?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Hush now– do you truly believe me to be a danger to you? How insulting,”

They crawled farthing back onto their bed, as he kneeled by the foot of the thing. Their eyes darted back and forth, from the open door and back to his eyes. He leaned his forearms onto their bed, his gaze grew soft and sympathetic.

Pulling himself up on the bed, he crawled toward them, resting his head by their feet.

“Oh lovely, whatever shall I do with you?” He said grabbing onto their leg pulling them closer.

They faltered at his touch, a comfort they hadn't felt in so long, the comfort a friend– a lover. But with what, what was this adoring angelic being before them? He filled their heart with such dread, but his touch too consoling to resist, and at a time like this no less– what were they to do but give in?

“Just this once, this once…” They whispered to themself, collapsing back onto their pillows.

“Yes my lovely, nothing bad,”

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 13

Prompt: Nightmare

Words: 1200~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

Unlucky number thirteen! Today's entry is the most off-topic I have ever taken a prompt, but my brain totally blanked. I could only think of the Michael McIntyre bit 'traffic's a nightmare!'.

Enjoy!

“Well,” Soap joked as he crept to the South-West edge of the building to peek around the corner, blinking the rain water out of his eyes, “Don’t this bring back memories, L.T.”

“Not good ones.” Came Ghost’s unimpressed rumble over their comms. 

“How could they not be good?,” Soap rebutted as he hugged the wall and he made his way around the building, “They’ve got me in ‘em.”

“Exactly.” Ghost quipped, his voice flat

“Oi!” Soap barely reined his shout down into an offended hiss.

“Focus up, Johnny,” Ghost cautioned him, “Visual’s a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“Eyes on?” Soap asked, freezing where he was.

“Affirm. I’ve got eyes on you now, Sergeant.” Ghost assured, then warned, “You’ll be in the blind past North-Side.” 

“Rog, L.T. West-Side clear.” Soap reported, scanning as he crept along, “Three metres to North-Side.”

He’d almost made it to the corner when Ghost spoke up again, “Sergeant, be advised, Fog bank coming in from the East, E.T.A six mikes.” 

Soap groaned, allowing himself a brief moment to pause and cuss out the universe. He shouldn’t have complained about the rain or the dim evening lighting, now the fates were set on proving that everything could always get worse. 

“Rog, L.T. Turning North-Side,” Soap pulled himself together and peeked around the corner to scout the North-Side of the building. “No tangos spotted, pushing for North-Side doors.”

“Rog, Sergeant. Saying again, no visual North-Side” Ghost kept his voice professional, but Soap knew that he didn’t like sending Soap in blind any more than Soap liked walking into it.

Their intel had been wrong, this was supposed to be a semi-bustling compound, but they’d spotted no movement so far. There was also supposed to be an entry point on the South-West side of the building, but the doors had been bricked over. This meant that having Ghost on overwatch to the south, as had been decided, was now proving to be less than helpful. 

Creeping through the building, with his paranoia growing, Soap carefully cleared every room he passed, being extra cautious of blind corners. He hadn’t followed his CQB training this close to the handbook since basic, but this entire mission was giving him a bad feeling. 

Noise came echoing down the hall from further in the building, and Soap fled to a defensible position, freezing there to listen hard for any more-identifiable sounds. 

The noise sounded a bit like shuffling footsteps, but not entirely. 

“Possible hostiles ahead, pushing forward,” He radioed over to Ghost, waiting briefly for his L.T’s ‘Rog’, then pushing forward as reported. 

His pace had slowed to a crawl, as he kept his footsteps as quiet as he could, they were supposed to be keeping their presence low-profile after all. Not that there’s been anyone to keep a low-profile from so far. 

He made it to the end of the hall without encountering anyone, and radioed Ghost from the base of the stairs, “Ground-floor clear, advancing to first-floor,” Once again waiting for his L.T’s confirmation, then proceeding. 

Clearing the rooms of the first-floor went much slower, as they were all filled with a hodge-podge of furniture that enemies could be using as cover. He finally found the target room, a makeshift office filled with an excessive amount of filing cabinets and one desk that was collapsed on its side with three quarters of its legs broken off. 

“Entering mission objective room,”

“Rog,”

Soap began pulling open filing cabinets, but found them all to be emptier than Mother Hubbard's cupboards, with a sinking feeling in his stomach he walked over to the desk and pulled its drawers free. All empty. 

Shoulders slumping with defeat he radioed it in to Ghost, “L.T, there’s nothing here, how should I proceed?” 

“Say again, Sergeant. There’s nothing?” Ghost sounded understandably confused by this turn of events.

“Nothing, L.T. It’s all emp-” Soap shut up as the strange shuffling sound made a return. He snapped into action, bolting for the wall to press up next to the door in the most defensible position, but was soon running for another reason as the floor started to fall out from under his feet. With a cry he crashed back down to the ground-floor, accompanied by much of the first-floor.

He came back to himself in a haze of dust, the building groaning and settling around him. New holes in the walls and ceiling letting in the rain and fog. 

Pinned belly-down under unknown amounts of rubble, Soap moaned pitifully to himself as he slowly took stock of his predicament. The fall had rung his head like a bell, but over the tinny ringing he could hear Ghost shouting for him on the comms. 

“L.T” Soap managed to groan out. 

“Johnny! Sit-rep! What happ-” Ghost sounded frantic

“Gotta call mah Ma.” He continued, interrupting Ghost's demands.

“Wha- Your Mum? Johnny what-” Ghost barked, concern growing. 

“Gotta tell ‘er she shoulda ne'er grew me nae fuckin’ ribs.” Soap panted, giving a brief try at pushing up against the rubble, but quickly ceding defeat, “Ungrateful fuck that ah am, jus’ wen’ an’ broke fuckin’ all ae ‘em.”

“Your ribs? Johnny, where are you?” Ghost demanded, Soap could hear by his breathing that he was running. Knowing him, undoubtedly booking it directly towards the unstable building. 

“Fuck if ah ken.” Soap muttered, but picked up his head to look around regardless. Rubble, various partly crushed filing cabinets, more rubble, “In the building. East-Side. Probably.”

“I’m coming, Johnny.” Ghost promised “I’ll find you.”

“Rog, Sir.” Soap muttered and let his head drop again, feeling the raindrops splash across the back of his scalp and the chill of the fog settling over his skin.

He could hear Ghost opening up their line to call for immediate evac and medics. Time passed a bit hazily and the next thing he knew he was hearing Ghost’s voice doubled, echoing from nearby and from the comm still fitted securely into his ear. He was shouting for him.

Soap took as deep of a breath as the debris squishing him allowed and shouted back, “Here!” Immediately regretting it as a coughing fit overtook him and pain shot through his ribs.

“Johnny!” Well-laced boots splashed into the growing puddle by his head and warm hands cupped his cheeks, “Sit-rep, Johnny? What hurts?”

“Not bleeding, L.T. Just stuck.” The tension fell out of his body at Ghost’s reassuring presence and he fought eyes that wanted to roll back into his head to look up at Ghost, “Ah ‘hink Ah know why this building wae abandoned.” 

A reluctant laugh escaped Ghost, shaking in his throat with something that definitely wasn’t tears of relief. 

“Evac is twenty mikes out, Johnny. We’ll get you outta there, don’t worry.” Ghost assured, sitting down and dropping Johnny’s head onto his leg to keep it out of the water.

“Aye,” Johnny mumbled, letting his eyes close, “Sounds guid. Ah trust ye, Si.”

Ghost would have loved to unbuckle Johnny’s helmet, to pet his fingers through his warhawk, but dared not in case any more of the building decided to come down. He settled on pulling off his gloves, and pressing shaky fingers to the steady pulse thumping in Johnny’s throat. Ghost carefully steadied his breathing, making his inhales and exhales loud and deliberate when he noticed Johnny matching his tempo. 

They were okay. Johnny was going to be okay, Ghost would make sure of it.

Thank You For Reading!

I need you to know that about three lines of dialogue in I considered just walking into the sea as a self-sacrificial offering to any god that wished to claim my corpse, because trying to write military lingo was so *clawed hands shaking in a throttling motion*.

I cannot garuntee that this is the last time that Soap will be getting stuck under a building this Ghoaptober, but this will probably be the nicest I am to him while it's happening.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[vodika-vibes]

Another request. Physical Romantic gestures that make me weak prompt. Wait for it… with Captain Howzer. He’s super sexy too.

kissing you against a wall/door, legs intertwined around their waist.

Only if you find time to write.

Thank you. 😊

Take a Break

Summary: You're working late, and Howzer has a suggestion that might help you relax.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x Reader

Word Count: 1184

Warnings: Uh...spicy? Not smut but only just not smut. A side effect of the prompt, I think.

A/N: Hm...I'm not sure I'm happy with this one, but I think it's about as done as it's going to be. Honestly, I got distracted while writing this, cause my cat is ripping her fur out.

Divider by Saradika

You stare at your datapad blankly. More specifically at the cursor that’s blinking, tauntingly, at the top of the blank document. 

Join the GAR, your family said. Fight for the Republic, they prodded. It’ll give you something to do, they cajoled.

You really, really need to learn how to say no.

Because if you had said no, you wouldn’t be here, in some backwater base on Ryloth, hours away from the nearest city, staring at a blank document, trying to come up with a professional way to say that the situation’s fucked.

Hell, you’re not even sure you work for the GAR anymore. You’re pretty sure you’re not an employee of the Imperial Army.

You rest your elbows on your desk, and your hands slide into your hair.

“Think. Think. Think.” You mutter under your breath, “You’ve written reports before. You know how to be professional.”

You drop your hands to the keyboard, and nothing comes to mind.

How do you write a report listing the loss of half of your base's munitions because the manufacturer decided to skimp on the weather protection, and they were exposed to extreme weather before anyone knew there was a problem?

There’s a knock on your office door, and you look up as it opens and Captain Howzer steps into your office, a mug of caf in one of his hands, “Captain,” You greet with a tired smile, “You’re working late.”

“So are you,” He replies as he sets the mug in front of you, “You still working on that report for the higher ups?” Howzer sits in one of the chairs across from you, and stretches his legs out.

“I’ve written a grand total of zero words,” You reply with a sigh, “I have all of the information to pass on, but-” You shake your head with a sigh.

Howzer frowns, “Are you okay?”

You sigh and bury your hands in your hair again, “I never wanted to join the GAR, Howzer, I was pressured into it. And now I can leave even less than I could before.”

“It’s not all bad, mesh’la.” Howzer offers quietly.

“How? The Jedi are dead. And the Imperial Army is committing genocide across the galaxy-” You stop and your lips press together in a thin line, “You didn’t hear that.”

Howzer folds his arms, ��Didn’t hear what?”

You smile at him, “Good man.” To pick up the mug he brought you and take a sip of the warm caf. It’s not good, but it’s caf, so you’ll take it. “Thank you for the caf. Maybe it’ll wake up my brain enough to let me write this report.”

“Or…maybe you need to take a break.” Howzer offers.

“And do what?”

“Well, there is a club not far from here,” Howzer points out.

“I’m not really dressed for a club, Howzer,” You counter as you motion to the regulation pants and blouse you’re wearing.

“You look fine,” He gets to his feet and offers you his hand, “Come on. You need a break.”

“Howzer, I’m not going to a club just to watch other people dance.”

“Of course not, you’ll dance with me.”

You pause and look up at him, there’s a glimmer of hope on his face, and mischief glitters in his eyes, and you sigh and take his hand, “Fine. But only for a little bit. I need to finish this.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” He agrees, unconvincingly.

You don’t even have time to grab your jacket before he’s propelling you out of your office, and then the office building. 

The club is Nameless, which is a rather depressing name all things considered, but the music is loud, the lights are dim, and it’s packed with people. 

And Howzer, immediately, drags you onto the dance floor and pulls you flush against him. One of his hands settles heavily on your lower back, while the other cups the back of your neck.

“You seem rather eager to dance with me, captain.” You breathe into his ear.

“Guilty as charged,” He replies against your ear and then his lips attach to a spot just below your ear and you release a quiet moan, which makes him grin against your skin, “You seem just as eager,” He teases.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to dance with,” You admit, as you roll your hips against his.

There’s a glimmer of something on his face as his hand slides from your back to your hip, and he holds you tight enough that you’ll have bruises, “Good,” He purrs out.

You shoot him a surprised look, but he doesn’t clarify. Instead he pulls you closer and angles your head so he’s able to catch your lips with his own. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, absently tracing random shapes against the back of his neck.

He groans into the kiss, and pulls away, which pulls a needy little whine from your lips. And he laughs under his breath. His gaze is heated, and you watch as he comes to a decision. 

Howzer walks you through the crowd, and into a hallway, where he presses you against the wall, and crashes his lips against yours again. It’s not private, not at all, people are passing behind him, though you don’t care. 

And judging by the way his hands are burning a path down your body, neither does he.

You let out a breathless moan as his lips attach to a spot on your neck and he bites down. One of your hands slides up into his hair and you grab a fistful, trying to ground yourself, but all that accomplishes is pulling a broken moan from his throat.

He pulls away from you, his gaze heavy. He lightly pulls your hand out of his hair, and he guides you further down the hall. He pushes the door to the storage room open, makes sure that it’s empty with a glance, and then he drags you into the dark room.

Howzer locks the door with a touch of the door panel, and then he has you pressed against the door. He kisses you deeply, and helps you wrap your legs around his hips, and he presses himself firmly against you.

A moan falls from you and he laughs breathlessly, as he breaks the kiss and brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes, “Are you feeling relaxed yet?” He breathes out.

“I feel like there’s a million bees under my skin, Howzer,” You reply, breathlessly.

He laughs, “Well, I suppose I better help you with that.” He kisses you slowly, sweetly, “And then I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Aren’t you kind of going backwards?” You ask.

“Makes it interesting.” Howzer replies as his lips move to your neck again, “Unless you have a problem with it?”

“I don’t,” You reply quickly, another moan falling from you as he presses hot kisses over the mark on your neck.

“Good.” Howzer grins against your neck, “I have plans for tonight, mesh’la. Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you.”

[meganwayne24]

A Ticking Clock (pt. 5)

At a time like this? Really?

Fandom: Insomniac Spider-Man Word Count: 1668 Pairing: PS5 Harry Osborn x Reader Synopsis: Peter and you have a run-in with Kraven. Harry gets jealous of your banter with Peter before you climb through the…particle accelerator?

You scurried to compose yourself and ran out of Harry’s home. You were swinging and gliding the fastest you could through all the old money apartment buildings. By the time you arrived at the cemetery, the large and bulky man had been taken down along with many others seeming to serve Kraven. You landed quietly, hoping to find Peter amidst the chaos that had come to pass. Analyzing the scene, you see the main door to the church was open.

Peaking in, you see Peter skulking around. “Here to pick up a serum order for Dr. Connors!”

You whispered loud enough for him to hear, “Spider-Man! It’s Y/-” You realized anyone could be nearby and hear your name. “Uhh spider…woman? I guess?”

“Not bad, Spider-Woman.” He chuckled.

“Shut up, it was the only thing I could come up with on short notice.” Peter swung up to the platforms above. You stayed on ground level to cover the bases.

The silence in the church was unsettling. The chandelier’s lights provoked an eerie feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. The division between the cold atmosphere above and what felt like blood lust below alarmed you. Tentacles started pushing their way out from your sides the more wary you became. A thunderous voice echoed through the air of the room. No matter where you were, it felt like a monster was right behind you. “You have hunted me. This is good.” You spun around quickly with a fist ready for action, but nothing was there.

“Let’s see if you have the strength to finish what you started.” Before you could react, you looked up to see Kraven holding a knife to Peter’s throat.

“I see a man and a woman. I sense…a beast. Why don’t you set it free?” He was taunting Peter successfully. Peter’s suit sent Kraven flying across into the church bell. The ring was shrill to your ears. Your mind went blank with agony. You and Peter both screamed while hunched over in pain. Almost like a practiced, synchronized act, the two of you shot out black webs forcing the bell into the wall.

In what was likely your only chance, your thoughts synced with Peter. You knew what to do. You webbed up to the platforms, sending out another appendage to reach the serum. You landed gracefully next to Pete with the vial firmly in your grasp. “We’re just here to save our friend.”

Peter was angry. You were too focused on the adrenaline flowing through your veins to have any other thought. “We’ll finish this later.” He growled. You hadn’t heard Peter speak like that before. You both zipped out of the window, leaving shattered stained glass everywhere. A beautiful yet devastating sight.

You were now swinging through the city. “Harry, MJ we got the serum. On our way back to Emily-May.” Peter carried on the conversation with them. He reassured Harry that it went well, but he and MJ spoke privately afterwards of what really happened. The new issue of frequencies making the suit malfunction was going to make for a hell of a time.

You were gliding through the air at a distance from Peter when you got a call from Harry. His voice was tainted with concern. “Hey Y/N. I have a feeling Pete was hiding how bad it actually was out there. Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah we are. There’s a slight problem with the suit and certain frequency exposures but we’re okay. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright for now. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. I’ll see you soon at the lab yeah?”

“I’ll be here. See you Y/N.”

You glided for another couple minutes, swinging between the support structures of the bridge before arriving at Emily-May. The rooftop had a secret entry way that you used.

Peter jumped in first, you followed swiftly. When you got inside, Harry was reading over Dr. Connors’ file. You and Pete morphed out of your suits into black outfits. His was a button down, quarter length sleeve shirt with jeans and runners while you were in a long sleeve mid-length top and leggings with boots to match.

Harry was still deep in the files, not turning around yet. “You still got it?” You handed over the vial to him. He looked up at you, not expecting your shift in demeanour. There was a new confidence you hadn’t noticed you’d been feeling. His eyes lingered on your figure as your fingers grazed each other’s. It was impossible not to notice your curves and how the outfit complimented them well.

Snapping out of his observant state, he took the serum into his hand. “Let’s see what this thing is made of.” The three of you proceeded to correct the errors in order to form the cure. It started with eliminating the atoms blocking the lizard receptors. By doing that, its instability was discovered. The only way to fix this was…

“Particle accelerator!” In unison, the excitement flooded you all.

“I never thought you guys would be using it this soon!” You knew how exciting this was for them. You all began to run towards the railing of the wide ocean coloured balcony.

Harry’s eyes were more full of light than you’d seen in awhile. “That’d be like using a shotgun for a haircut.”

“Hell of a haircut,” Peter chimed in.

“Quite the analogy Harry…keepin it classy,”

“That’s how I roll,” He flashed a cheeky grin at you. Harry looked ecstatic to be able to use the particle accelerator. You couldn’t help but blush at the man standing before you.

You all moved quickly to the large device to finish preparing the antidote. “The techs said it needs repair, but maybe it’s okay…” Harry was going through the requirements to set up the process. You stood close to him seeing what he was typing as Peter placed the serum in the tube tray. “Okay…” He lifted the cover revealing the ominous red button, “No black holes no black holes no black holes…” Nothing but the sound of fizzling came. Harry sighed. “Pressure change popped an inner section out of alignment.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but we’d have to go inside to fix that right?” The boys looked at you attentively with a hint of admiration. “What?” you innocently remarked.

Harry looked in your eyes for a brief moment and smiled. “Uh, nothing. But yeah, that would be the only way.” You turned walking towards the entrance where Peter was standing in the suit.

“No, nope. I wanna do this, back up Spider-Boy.”

Harry tuned in to what the two of you were thinking. “Whoa- whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” He was protective in nature.

Peter’s new-found boldness knew no bounds. “The suit’ll protect me, right?”

“You mean me. I’m doing this. You got to go hang around wearing a tux with a tiger. My turn,”

“I wasn’t wearing the suit when I was with Dima.”

“Oh you got her name and everything. Such a gentleman-”

Harry intruded, cutting the wits short. A tinge of jealousy flared in his eyes. “Y/N, I don’t know about this-”

“Relax. I got it.” You hopped in and started crawling through the claustrophobia-inducing tunnel.

“Be a good proton Harry,”

“Huh?”

Peter flashed finger guns at him “stay positive.”

You heard Harry scoff but chuckle at the remark. You continued following the path. The lighting reminded you of the church. You had a feeling something wasn’t right.

“So, what’s the inside of a particle accelerator like?” Harry’s curiosity piqued.

“I mean it’s amazing. You guys gotta check this out sometime,”

“Peter could.” Harry sounded frustrated.

Before you could respond, you set the inner section back in its place. The accelerator lit up while making extremely loud noises. “Uhh guys?”

Peter looked to Harry for the answer. “It’s powering up! But the beam’s erratic, use the magnets to stabilize it!”

“How?!” You could hardly hear yourself think inside the machine, let alone having to focus on what to do.

“Just find the sweet spot.”

“Particle accelerators do NOT have sweet spots!” You shot tentacles out at the magnets in order to fix it. “Great, done. Right?”

“There’s one more set of magnets ahead!”

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t be serious!”

“If you can’t stabilize the beam, it’ll destroy the serum!”

“Fantastic. You know if this wasn’t stressful before, it sure as hell is now!”

“You got this Y/N.” Peter was trying to be encouraging. Harry was gritting his teeth.

“This better not ruin the tap on my debit card.” You fixed the final one. You kept crawling through until electrical charges started coming at you. “Hey! What the hell is this?”

“The particle accelerator is up and running. Just avoid them and come out.” Harry’s voice was stern. Not as lighthearted as before. Normally there was a sense of comfort in it, like coming home after a long day, but not now.

You got to the end and knocked on the door. You carefully placed yourself back on the ground and morphed back into your outfit. Despite Harry’s attitude, he still couldn’t take his eyes off you. You hunched over out of breath. “Yeah you know next time any crawling in tiny spaces with electricity comes up, not it.”

Another loud, shrill buzzer started going off. Peter and you were once again covered in the suits while trying to get through the pain. The screams swarmed the lab. Harry ran to the red button, shutting the noise off.

The relief in your mind is how you imagined euphoria at this rate. “One more thing happens and I just might lose it.” You both stood up, disturbed but okay.

“What was that?” Peter asked before you could.

“More static discharges. The accelerator’s still running though. The serum’s okay.” Harry at least sounded more at ease now. “Guess the suit has sensitive ears…”

You looked at him intently. “Apparently.”

You all took a moment until a scent filled the air. You turned to look.

“Fire!” Peter called out.

“So much for not losing it.” You all ran to put out the fires. One more thing to ruin the night.

A/N: we're back!!! I swear this story is gonna get more interesting just stick with it! Are we slow-burning? Maybe?? Is there a little chemistry between Y/N and Peter?? Maybe??? Who knows hehe

[solarpunkani]

The Lost Doll - A Short Story

To say that Arrden was in trouble didn’t even begin to describe his situation right now. He was screwed, utterly screwed, in deep doo doo. Deep.

He’d lost track of his little sister’s favorite doll again, a third strike on his record for being responsible. Not only that, but he’d lost it out in the city--where he and his sister weren’t even supposed to be in the first place! There was no way he would be able to explain himself to Mom and Dad without getting himself in trouble!

So there was only one solution. He’d have to go back out there and hunt it down, before either of them noticed it was gone.

“Arry! I want my dolly back!” his sister whined, but Arrden quietly shushed her.

“If you stay quiet, I’ll go get it and bring you some sweets!” he said.

Daisy hummed, her lip poking out into a powerful pout as she crossed her arms. “...gimme good sweets. From Junebugs!”

“Junebugs?!” what was he supposed to barter to get some of Junebugs’ candied fruit?! He was already pushing it just going out again, let alone bringing something to trade! “I can’t get anything from Junebugs, how about Missy Anne’s?”

Daisy responded by tilting her head back and yelling. “Daddyyy!”

“Okay, okay, okay! I’ll get you something from Junebugs, just don’t tell Dad yet!”

Daisy harrumphed, but nodded. At that same moment, their Dad came rushing up the stairs. “What’s going on up here, is everything alright?”

“I want uppies!!” Daisy beamed, reaching up with her little arms. Their dad laughed and reached down to pick her up, holding her close to his chest with a squeeze that made her giggle. While he was distracted, Arrden hurried downstairs to grab his bag and his skateboard.

“Hey, Arrden! Where’re you going?” his father called out.

Arrden froze in his tracks. Shit. “Uh! I wanted to go hang out at the library, maybe get more books!” That wasn’t entirely a lie--he did have to go to the library to check if they’d left the doll there during their earlier visit. And he did want to check out a book too.

“Alright, but can you get me some eggs from the Ferns on your way back? We’ll need them for breakfast tomorrow, bring her a few cuttings from the garden!”

Score! If he could take a few extra flower cuttings, he might be able to trade something for some Junebugs! “Okay, Dad! I won’t be too long, promise!”

Before his dad could ask any more questions, Arrden slipped out of the front door and hurried into the garden, picking the trimmers and two glass jars from the gardening table to set to work. Calendulas, rudbeckias, zinnias, and a few stems of milkweeds all found their way into the jar, which he placed into his tote as he slung it over his shoulder. He hopped over the fence, onto his skateboard, and was cruising out towards the rest of the town in a matter of moments. 

Gliding through the town on his board, he took a moment to appreciate it all--it was home, so he was used to it, but it really was so pretty. In school they’d been studying how things were just a few decades ago--an era he remembered faintly, but had no real fond memories for. He was younger than Daisy is now when their town started being remade into what it was, solar panels on every rooftop, gardens big and small bursting out of every crevice one could fit dirt into. Stained glass adorned practically every building, murals of suns and moons and plants and animals on any blank wall that wasn’t already overgrown with vining flowers. Maybe it was because he was old enough to ride around on a skateboard by himself, but things felt… smaller, than they did before. On bad days, it could be stifling, but on good days it was cozy. Most days were good days.

It didn’t take too long to get to the market plaza. He didn’t even have to look up to know he’d arrived, the light changing to pinks and oranges and yellows as he passed under the mess of fabric tarps overhanging the entire square. There were quite a few stands out today, some offering little baubles made of recycled plastic, or carved wooden statues of deer and bears and foxes, and the instrument maker was even offering a new guitar or two. Ooh, he’d have to save up for that. If he could prove himself responsible enough to maintain a spinning wheel, his friend Azzy had a few sheep, and they were always willing to give him wool to spin into yarn. Or better--if he could keep bees, to make honey and beeswax, that made for good trades.

Being responsible enough was the one thing he probably wasn’t today, since he’d lost his sister’s doll. 

Technically, Daisy had lost the doll, but it was still Arrden’s fault because he’d taken her out of the house while Dad was away at book club earlier. Oh, they’d explored the town together, gone everywhere Arrden knew she enjoyed, to cheer her up. She’d been stuck inside for days now--battling a nasty ear infection--but now that she was feeling better, she’d been begging to be let outside. Their parents said to wait just a few more days, to make sure she’d truly beaten it. Unfortunately, Arrden was weak to Daisy’s puppy dog eyes, and had whisked her away to explore all their favorite stomping grounds, getting her back home just before their dad got home. And apparently she’d dropped the doll somewhere on their adventures, and now here he was.

He stopped by the seed stand--Daisy always loved looking at the mystifying colors of Mister Peters’ glass gem corn, or reaching into the big bags of beans and letting them run through her little fingers. They’d definitely stopped here today--after all, Mister Peters’ son Kendall was working the stand, and he and Arrden had always been buddies.

“Hey, man!” Kendall beamed, reaching over the desk to tousle Arrden’s afro. Arrden mock-whined and nudged the taller boy off of him, rolling his eyes before sending him a grin. “You back again already? Did your Ma tell you to pick up more flower seeds? We're almost out of Liatris for the season.”

“Nah, it’s Ma’s working season. She doesn’t get back home till just before sunset. Did you see my sister’s doll anywhere around here? She lost it while we were out,” Arrden asked.

Kendall tutted at him, bead-adorned dreads swishing back and forth as he shook his head. “C’mon, man, you’re never gonna get those hives if you keep losing your sister’s stuff.”

“It’s not my fault she keeps dropping it! If she cares about it so much, you’d think she’d keep track of it better!”

“Yeah, and if you cared about getting those hives and that spinning wheel, you wouldn’t keep riskin’ it by taking her out with it.”

“Like she goes anywhere without it!”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Kendall arched a brow at him. 

Arrden sighed. “I know, I know. But Daisy was so sad! I couldn’t not take her with me!” 

“Well, let’s just hope you get that doll back. Oh! Mrs. Fern wants me and Dad to plant a garden near her chicken coops next week, Dad said I can invite any friends I want. Next Saturday, nine AM, her place?”

“...won’t the chickens just eat all the seeds again, like they did last year?” 

“Oh, of course they’re going to, but Mrs. Fern’s gonna make us a big apple pie for all our hard work, and I know you want in on it.”

“You should’ve lead with the apple pie, man, I’m in! But I’ve gotta get going, text me about it later?”

“You know it! Good luck on finding that doll!”

Arrden left him with a final wave, hopping back onto his skateboard and wheeling off further into the market place.

Unfortunately, no other stands had his sister’s lost doll. He tried every other one they’d gone to--the bead and jewelry stand, the stand for the Watters’ farm selling baby chicks and a lamb, the one for the new artist that had moved to town a few months back--no such luck. 

The next best bet was the big, round, blue and yellow tent at the end of the marketplace. It was where Luna sang songs to entertain kids while their parents browsed the wares at the market in peace. It was never really Arrden’s thing growing up--he preferred poking his nose into his parents’ business, seeing what they were getting and running around making trouble for himself. But his sister loved the tent and ol’ Luna, and would beg to stop there even when it was just the two of them. So he ducked inside to check the seats.

Fortunately, Luna wasn’t performing right now. Instead, there was a younger girl, just tuning up the guitar in anticipation for the next batch of kids. She looked up with a bright smile as he stepped in. “Hello, there! Anything I can help you with?”

Arrden froze. That was not Old Lady Luna. That was Pretty Girl Sasi, the girl who sat in front of him in class. He definitely didn’t have a crush on her! Absolutely not, no matter how much his friends insisted he turned red as a tomato around her, he did not have a crush on her! She was just. Really pretty! And he didn’t know how to handle that!

“O-Oh, Sasi! I--I wasn’t expecting--I thought--Old Lady Luna--” he stammered, feeling his neck get hot.

“Luna’s my aunt, I’m helping her for the weekend in exchange for more guitar lessons.” Sasi said, standing to her feet and brushing long, silky black hair over her shoulder. “I’m sure she’d love to teach more people, if you wanted to do lessons together sometime?”

Honestly, Arrden had never had much interest in learning guitar, but now he was half-tempted to trade the flowers in his bag for that pretty new guitar at the instrument seller’s stand. “Oh! Uh--I--maybe! I’ll see if I can--ah--” his brain went numb for a second, and Sasi sent him an amused look as he briefly opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Wasn’t he here for something? Right! “Have you seen my sister’s doll? I--my sister was here earlier, and she lost her doll, and I dunno if it might’ve been here or… y’know. Y’know?”

Sasi giggled, making her way over to a basket tucked away to the side. “Well, I dunno what her doll looks like specifically, but my aunt always puts stuff kids leave behind in this basket. Wanna check?”

Arrden nodded and got to his knees, sorting through the basket a moment. There were a handful of dolls there--some little brown bears or orange foxes, others moreso resembling people, but none of them were Daisy’s little flower doll. He had to wonder if there were tons of brothers ripping and running around town trying to find their little siblings’ dolls today, or if these had been left for months and years with no owner. It made him a bit sad, and for a moment he missed his own little childhood doll, even though Black Cat still sat safely on a shelf in his room.

As he stood back up, Sasi frowned. “It’s not there? I hope you find it.”

“I hope so too. I’ve got a few more places to check, though, so fingers crossed!” Arden sighed, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Sasi grinned, bangles clinking as she held up her own hands with their fingers crossed, prompting him to do the same. “Oh! My friend Kendall’s dad is planting flowers at Mrs. Ferns’ chicken coop next Saturday at nine, you’ll probably wanna ask him to be sure, but I think it’d be cool if you came! We’ll get apple pie after, too!”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” 

“I don’t think you’d be intruding! I mean--I’ll text Kendall and ask if you can come, but I doubt he’d say no!”

Sasi awkwardly rubbed her arm, her shoe nudging a divot into the soft dirt under them. “I’ve never really gardened before… I don’t think I’ve planted a seed since I was little, none of my family’s ever been good at it…”

“Oh! Between me and Kendall, you’ll be a pro in no time!”

“Then… maybe I’ll try it. Oh, I think my mom wanted to ask your dad to plant some moonflower seedlings by our gazebo… unless you wanted to come and do it sometime? We could trade numbers and figure out a time…”

Butterflies danced in Arrden’s stomach as he whipped his phone out of his pocket. “Y-Yeah, sure, let’s trade numbers--” unfortunately, he whipped it out so fast the phone flew out of his hand and plopped into the dirt by Sasi’s feet. The girl laughed a bit, bending down to get it and offer it back to him, and he smiled sheepishly. “Th-Thanks, Sasi…”

In just a few moments, the two had exchanged numbers and sent the customary ‘hey this is Arrden’ or ‘Hi this is Sasi’ texts, well on their way to expanding their friendship. Sasi even watched him leave from the opening of the tent, waving him goodbye as he skated away.

Arrden found himself humming a love song all the way to the pet store.

Right, he and Daisy had come here for cat food! After all, Arrden’s crime today hadn’t been leaving the house, but leaving the house with Daisy. He’d stopped to grab food and a new toy for their housecat, Shadow. Daisy had wanted to come along to see the adoptable puppies the Lees had raised, all ready to herd sheep on some other farmer’s land. Even though they didn’t have a farm, the puppies were still little fluffy bundles that Daisy just couldn’t resist playing with. However, he did send a few pics to Azzy, and had received some heart eye emojis in response. Who knows? Next time he went to their place, they might have a new bundle of joy bouncing around the fields. 

When he saw the puppies playing tug of war, his heart sank, but he instantly relaxed when he realized they were playing with a bundle of rope and not a little doll. Arrden doublechecked the rest of their outdoor pen, and even tried to peek into their dog house, before he decided ‘no way it's in there’ and instead made his way inside.

The shelves were well stocked with a variety of foods for a variety of animals, and all kinds of toys. There were even a few birds on display inside--he paused a moment to look at the fluffy-looking pigeons, and gently pat a couple of peachicks through the gaps in their cage. Tanks, leashes, training manuals, and treats were also available--a vast array of homemade cookies and biscuits with all kinds of berries and faux icing. ‘Human made, dog approved,’ the sign above them said. He’d been dared to eat one, a few years back, and truth be told he understood why the dogs liked them. Personally? Arrden wasn’t a fan.

He perused the entire store in search of his sister’s doll, double and triple checking the toy shelves to make sure he hadn’t missed it. God forbid, someone had traded for it thinking it was one of Mx. Miller’s handmade toys and already tossed it to the hounds. He tried to put that thought out of his mind.

After making one final loop around the store, Arrden approached the desk, where Mx. Miller was working on sewing up another pet toy out of scraps of old clothes and hand spun fabric. Right, a lot of people would donate their old and worn clothes to the shop so they could find new life as a beloved toy. At least, when they didn’t donate them to a teen hoping to learn embroidery or make new patches for their jacket. In that sense, Arrden and Mx. Miller were staunch competitors in the last life of beloved fabric market, if his patch-adorned vest had anything to say. 

“Hey, there! Can I help you with anything?” Mx. Miller asked as they looked up from their work. 

“Hi, uhm… my sister lost her doll earlier today, and I was wondering if you saw it by any chance? It’s about this big--” Arrden cupped his hand a little over a foot above the top of the counter. “--and looks like a white and yellow daisy, with green arms and legs.” 

Mx. Miller scrunched their nose--they must’ve seen all kinds of toys over the course of the day--and eventually shook their head. “I don’t remember seeing a doll like that. But if anyone brings one like that in, I’ll keep it in lost and found, alright?”

Arrden nodded quietly. “Okay! Thank you, Mx. Miller.” Arrden made his way out of the store, pausing a moment to ruffle one of the puppies’ heads a bit as it poked its head over the baby cage before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way off. 

No luck at the market, no luck at the music tent, no luck at the pet shop… his last hopes were the library, Mrs. Kitterling’s jewelry shop, or just… out in the street somewhere, stepped upon and dirty. Or worse. Someone had seen it and taken it, and Arrden was thoroughly screwed. 

He couldn’t lose hope. He’d stop by the library, cross his fingers, hope to any power there was that he found it alright. 

He felt the path change under the wheels of his board as he turned onto the Aster Town Library’s walkway. It was still old cobblestone, with a few cushiony low-growing groundcovers poking between the tracks. Comfy for shoes--or those who preferred to walk barefoot, like Sasi’s family--but not so great for itty bitty skateboard wheels, so he hopped off the board and tucked it under his arm and walked the rest of the way. To either side of the cobblestone path, there were gardens--to his left, an expansive meadow of wildflowers, almost like the garden at home, and to his right was a small pond with an array of koi and all kinds of other fish, their scales glittering like tiny drops of sunlight under the water’s surface. Dotted across both landscapes were benches, for people to enjoy a drink and a book while taking in the perfumed scent of flowers, or listening to the gentle trickle of the pond’s small waterfall. He checked all the outside benches, but deep down he knew Daisy’s doll wouldn’t be out here. These sitting spots were great and all, but Daisy spent most of her time in other spaces. 

Arden entered the library and placed his skateboard on the designated skateboard shelf by the door, which already had a couple of other tenants taking up slots. They were all a similar color to his, but he knew he’d be able to grab the right one--his was custom painted with a big yellow sunflower, spinning wheels and bees along the edges, and a couple of stickers in the blank spaces. He’d done everything but paint his name on the bottom of the board to mark it as his. Plus, everyone else had their boards painted--one had a bright big zinnia flower, with suns and moons both on the horizon, while another had a ferocious looking bear painted on with a wolf howling at the moon.

“Back again already?” Arrden turned to see one of the librarians, Mx. Kingsley, waving at him from the front desk. “You already returned your books, if that’s what you’re here for.”

“It’s not! Well, I do want more books, but--my sister lost her crochet doll, and I’m retracing my steps to try and find it. Did anyone turn it in?”

Mx. Kingsley shook their head, frowning a bit. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember any dolls being turned in today. I’ll go check the Lost and Found, why don’t you go ahead and look around while you get your books?” 

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Mx. Kingsley!” Arrden beamed, before heading off deeper into the library.

The library had always been one of his favorite places. When he wasn’t helping his parents with the garden, or hanging out with his friends after school, you could probably find Arrden tucked away somewhere on library grounds. He knew this place like the back of his hand--if he ever applied to volunteer here, no doubt he’d be let in, but he wanted to have a little bit more freedom before leashing himself to a formal volunteer position. Nevertheless, he was here all the time, and his sister Daisy was also becoming fond of the place. As Arrden perused the shelves, selecting a few books on beekeeping and wool spinning as well as a few novels, he took a moment to enjoy the pure library vibes. Small potted herbs grew on the shelves, bundles of mint to be snacked on, while posters for new books and fliers for town events adorned walls and bulletin boards all across the space. Every book in here was well-loved, the smell of old books mingling with the herbs and making everything just… heavenly. There were plenty of bright, sunny windows--some clear, most brightly colored stained glass works of trees and flowers sprouting out of open books--all with plenty of cushioned benches and rocking chairs and bean bags sprawled out underneath them. A few of the study rooms had been borrowed, a couple of kids studying in one, while the other had a handful of adults using the chalkboard to talk about something-or-another. Even still, Arrden knew his sister’s doll wouldn’t be in any of these places.

Instead, he stepped out the side door, and directly into the warm and cozy greenhouse area. A mix of colorful panels greeted him with spots of light on the ground, casting everything into an almost magical light. There were two large tables that were perfect for studying and craft sessions, potted herbs and even a few fruit trees along the sides of the walls, but best of all--a big, comfy chair, tucked into a corner with its own shelf of books nearby. This was his favorite spot in the library--and his sister’s too. Arrden was half-tempted to just sink into the big chair, curl up with one of his books, and let the hours pass as he lost himself among the pages of a story. The library was open through the night, but he’d never been allowed to stay past eight, because apparently fourteen was still too young to be out on his own late at night.

But no, he was here for a reason. So instead of settling into the chair, he checked the cushions to make sure the doll hadn’t been lost in the depth of it, but came up with nothing but a healthy dose of lint-fingers. Daisy’s doll wasn’t sitting on any of the tables or shelves either, nor was it on the floor. This was the only room Daisy ever liked to hang out in, so the odds of it being anywhere else were… slim.

As he made his way back to the front desk, he passed a shelf of books and a title stuck out to him--something about playing guitar for beginners. Well… it wouldn’t be so bad to do a bit of reading, would it? He took the book and tucked it under his arm with the others. 

“Find the books you’re looking for?” Mx. Miller asked as Arrden arrived to the desk.

“I did! Did you find my sister’s doll?”

The look on Mx. Miller’s face told him everything he needed to know, but even still they shook their head with a soft sigh. “There aren’t any dolls in the lost and found, kiddo. I hope you find it!”

Arrden sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hope so too.” He placed his books on the counter, and Mx. Miller began scanning them out of the system. 

“More books on beekeeping and spinning? I’d think you’d be one of the resident experts by now!” they said with a soft laugh.

“I just wanna make sure I know all I can! I still gotta get my parents to let me have the gear and all.”

“Oh, I remember when I was trying to start with my crafts. It took ages to convince my parents I could run a spinning wheel without hurting myself, but one day one of my friends let me try spinning with the wheel she had at her place. When I came back with a nice bundle of finished yarn I’d spun myself, and less bandages than they expected, my parents let me go get my own wheel the next day.”

Arrden hummed. “Maybe… but I dunno anyone with a wheel who’d let me borrow it.”

Mx. Miller arched an eyebrow, gesturing with their eyes towards the craft room in the back. “You know, I just dropped one of my older wheels into the tool space for borrow. How about the next time you come around, you put your skills to the test? I’ve got some hemp I’ve already combed out but I never ended up doing anything with it, I’m more than happy to let you learn spinning with it!”

“You’re for real?” Arrden beamed. “I’d love to! Oh, maybe I can come right after school Tuesday?”

“I’ll be sure to bring it in, then!” Mx. Miller slid the books across the counter back to Arrden. “You keep on reading until then, alright? I can’t help you with the bees, after all.”

“Okay! Oh, did you want anything for--I mean, I can maybe bring you some of my mom’s flowers, or--”

“Oh, no, no! We don’t have to trade for it! I just love helping young learners, you know? Now get going! You’ve still gotta find that doll!”

Arrden gasped and shoved the books into his tote. “Right! Thank you again, Mx. Miller!” at that, he rushed out of the door, grabbing his board and hopping onto it as he made his way down the path. He made his way to the last possible place the doll could be--Mrs. Kitterlings’ place.

On his way there, though, he found himself stopping, hopping off his skateboard a moment to look at a garden. It was a small pollinator garden, the likes of dozens around town--but this one was special to him. Not because of the big beautiful mural of butterflies and bees stopping to drink on a giant Asclepias syriaca on the brick wall overlooking it all--though common milkweed was one of his favorites for growing and trading. But because he remembered, ever so faintly, helping to start this place.

This garden--the East Avenue Pollinator Pod Garden--was one of the first Pollinator Pods to be planted in the town, about eight years ago now. He was a little kid then, and didn’t see the bigger picture--how this pod was the cornerstone that would help transform this town into the community he knew it as today. No, Arrden was just one of dozens of grubby little six year olds who were excited to get to play with dirt without getting into trouble for it that day. The adults had been working on clearing out the empty lot for ages by that point, transforming the place from some old tire-and-junk filled lot into safe, empty ground ready for planting. Not that Arrden was around to appreciate it when that work had started. He remembered following his mom around with a little plastic trowel, carefully digging where she instructed so she could help him gently place tiny little seedlings into the holes he made, or helping to scatter coreopsis, rudbeckia, and liatris seeds around while he played tag with Azzy and Kendall. His dad helped him try and properly pronounce the names, though there was still awhile where Asclepias were ‘Sleepies’ and rudbeckias were ‘Rudy-Becky’s’. And he remembered coming down with his dad every week during his mom’s working season to help water the plants and watch the life slowly fill into a place that had been so empty and barren for so long. He remembered coming to celebrate while his mom’s work group added a paved walkway, and a fountain, and a bench dedicated to a Mrs. Lianne Kitterling--the mayor at the time who had started the initiative to green up their spaces and their lives in the tiny town of Charlesville (a few years later, they’d rename the town Aster, and adopt the sunflower as their symbol). After this garden, so many more changes came--more solar panels and wind turbines floating high above the city, gardens spreading around every corner of the city, initiatives to clean the forest that bordered their town’s northern side and restore the prairie that used to be to its south. New people moved in, entranced by the changes taking place--like Sasi’s family, and his mom’s best friend Miss Dianne--and helping to shape the town into the colorful place it is now. 

It was honestly hard to remember what things were like before, but maybe that was because he was so little when the changes started happening. In second grade, they changed the school year--only four days a week, and about four hours for each day, instead of the five days and six hours that had apparently been standard for decades before. He couldn’t imagine how he’d manage school and his friends and hobbies if he was spending five days in school, let alone six hours each day! His Dad said before he was born, the town switched to seasonal work--everyone could choose to either work from January to June, or July to December, at any job. Before that, everyone worked practically every day of the year, which Arrden could scarcely imagine now. Maybe all the changes hadn’t started with this garden after all, but in Arrden’s mind, watching the garden grow was the first time he realized things were changing and growing--just like the caterpillars who called the garden home. The city was in its cocoon, shifting and changing, and even now his mother said its wings were only just now unfurling. 

“Hey, Arrden!” 

Arrden was snapped out of his thoughts by the familiar voice calling his name, and turned in time to see his friend Azzy--and their friend, Flare--riding up on their own boards. Azzy pulled to a--somewhat clumsy--stop and hopped off their board to come join him. “What’s up? Looking at the old garden?”

“I don’t think it's that old, Az. But, uh, guess I got lost in thought seeing it.”

“I feel you, man.” they took off their helmet, long blonde hair cascading to past their shoulders. “I was just here last week, getting a few volunteer hours in filling the empty gaps with more seedlings. Felt like I got rocketed back to the past for a moment. Crazy how well everything grew in, I coulda sworn we accidentally trampled half those seedlings but now look at it all!”

“You trampled the seedlings. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults came in a few days later to replace the ones you stepped on, but who knows.”

“Azzy and I were heading to the skate park,” Flare said, stepping over. “You want in?” 

“Ooh! Yeah, you should totally come hang! There’s even gonna be a band performing later tonight!” Azzy beamed, green eyes alight with excitement.

Arrden sighed. “I wish, but I still have that 8 o'clock curfew. And I lost my sister’s doll. I’ve gotta find it before my parents find out, or else I’m never getting that spinning wheel!”

“You lost Daisy’s daisy?! Aw, you’re in for it, man!”

He groaned. “I know!! If it’s not in Mrs. Kitterling’s place, I’m done for! I dunno where else it could be!”

“Fingers crossed for you, then! Oh, wait, Flare, you wanted to stop in Kitterlings’ too, right?”

Flare nodded. “My mom wants more decorations for her locs, and I might get some for when she twists my hair soon” she groaned. “I’m gonna miss the puffs, but having to wash and dry it all every week is driving me crazy!!”

“Aw, I don’t find it so bad! When it's my hair care day, I just plop on the couch with some snacks and turn on some good movies!”

“I wish it were that simple, my mom expects me to do so much to it! I might end up liking the twists better, who knows until I get them in? I think some bee charms’ll help!”

“Oh, you like bees?”

“Her dad’s the head of the beekeeper’s guild in town! He has, like, twenty hives!” Azzy beamed.

“Yeah, he’s been teaching me how to manage hives since I was ten! I have two hives of my own, too!”

“Ooh! I’ve been wanting to learn beekeeping for the longest while, but I haven’t gotten any hands-on experience yet!” Arrden said “I’ve checked out just about every book on beekeeping the library has, but my parents still don’t think I’m ready for a hive…”

“Why not join the guild, maybe apprentice for one of the beekeepers? I know my dad loves teaching hands-on!”

Arrden blinked dumbly. “I can join the guild if I don’t have any hives yet?”

“Dude! Yeah?! How are you supposed to take care of a real hive if you’ve never been near one before! Look--” Flare dug her phone out of her overall pocket. “We’ve gotta trade numbers, I’ll get you hooked up with Dad and maybe you can come over when he’s teaching Sasi Friday after school.”

“Sasi’s learning beekeeping?!”

“Yeah, I dunno, she didn’t catch me as the type but she told me last week that someone sparked her interest in it.”

“Oooh, wonder who that could’ve been?” Azzy laughed, nudging Arrden in the ribs. Arrden briefly remembered his last interaction with Sasi when Azzy was nearby, how they’d nudged him into talking about his interests and he wound up infodumping about bees all lunch period instead of eating. He’d thought he’d totally embarrassed himself! Was she actually interested in it now?

“Uh! Well! L-Let’s trade numbers, then!” Arrden handed Flare his phone, and Flare handed hers to him. They plugged in each others numbers and sent introductory texts and then handed back the phones. “So, you guys are going into Kitterlings?”

“Yeah, c’mon!”

Mrs. Kitterlings’ shop wasn’t very far--in fact, it was just a door away from the wall the pollinator pod was up against. The awning over the door and windows were a bit faded with age, the gold paint spelling out Kitterlings’ Jewelry chipping off the brick surface they were painted onto. Well loved, his mother had always said, the building’s well loved.

Well loved it was, indeed, with a lot of the ladies in town. Mrs. Kitterling was one of the only jewelers in town, but she made lots of items--asides from necklaces and bracelets, she also made earrings, rings, loc decorations, hearing aid jewelry, and more. This was on top of her supposedly growing some of the best roses and daffodils for barter. Or maybe the ladies liked her so much because she used to be the mayor, and had relinquished her position to instead let decisions be made by a panel of citizens a few years back? After she’d retired from politics, she’d opened the shop and almost immediately was the talk of the town all over again. 

Either way, Arrden wasn’t much of a jewelry guy--he found it got in the way most of the time. But he had been here earlier to get a new bracelet for his sister, with a little daisy charm made out of recycled metal. So the odds of him having lost the doll here were fairly high.

Flare almost immediately got distracted by the loc decorations on display, little burlap baggies full of gold and silver ones on the shelf underneath, but Azzy accompanied him to the front desk. Mrs. Kitterling was talking to another woman--Mrs. Deere, one of the kindergarten teachers--about placing an order for a custom pair of earrings. Today, Mrs. Kitterling was wearing hearing aid jewelry that made her ears look like butterfly wings, adorned with a mix of wire and recycled glass gems. 

Once Mrs. Deere had finished placing her order, Mrs. Kitterling turned to the two teens with a smile. “Ah, young Arrden and Azzy! A pleasure seeing you here again, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Kitterling. I, uh, lost my sister’s doll, did you see it by any chance?” Arrden asked.

“It’s, uhm, real important!” Azzy added, trying to back him up. Arrden appreciated the effort, Az.

Mrs. Kitterling hummed, adjusting her glasses. “Why, what does the doll look like?”

“It’s got a green body, and a big daisy flower for the head! Right, Arrden?” Azzy turned to Arrden, who nodded quietly.

“About… eight inches big, I think. Something like that.” Azzy procured their sketchbook from their bag, and Arrden nodded again. “About that big!”

“I think I did see a doll like that! I bet it's in the lost and found box, give me just one moment!” Mrs. Kitterling smiled before wheeling herself to the back room.

Arrden beamed, bouncing up and down a bit with Azzy. “She has it, she has it! Maybe I can get that spinning wheel after all!”

“Then we can team up and start making a buncha yarn! And you can learn how to spin hemp and stuff too!” they said.

“Your sister’s gonna be pretty damn happy too, right?” Flare said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That doll’s practically her best friend, she’s gonna be stoked!” Arrden gasped suddenly. “Shit! I still have to stop by the Ferns’ place to get eggs for my dad! And I promised Daisy I’d get her some Junebugs!”

“You’re going to Junebugs?!” Azzy gaped. “Hope you brought something good to trade!”

“...I’ve got some flowers?” Arrden opened his tote a bit to show the collection of cut flowers he’d brought. They were just a smidge wilted from spending the past hour or so traveling around town, but still fine to trade, right?

“That might be enough for some of a batch, but I dunno…” Azzy reached over and pat him on the back. “Fingers crossed for you, man.”

“Oh, god, you don’t think it’ll be enough? I dunno what I’m gonna do…”

Azzy hummed, tapping their chin. “I think they like raising insects. Any of those milkweeds got eggs on em?”

“Probably a couple, the monarchs have been going crazy in the garden lately.” Arden took out the milkweed stems and peered closely at the leaves. “I swear, it’d be harder to keep them away than to attract them… oh! When’d this guy get here?”

“Ooh, yeah, I see a caterpillar too! Right there!” Azzy said, pointing to a completely different leaf from the one Arrden was looking at. They then spotted the rather large caterpillar Arrden was staring at. “Oh! Guess you’ve got two! You might be good, then!”

“Oh, thank god.”

It was about then that Mrs. Kitterling wheeled her way back out to the front desk, smiling brightly as she set a little doll on the counter. “Little Daisy was still wearing a little necklace, too! Did you still want that, little Arrden?”

Arden huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “No thank you, ma’am. Thanks for keeping Little Daisy safe!” It all made sense now--Daisy would always try and let her doll partake in activities, so she was probably taking necklaces off the shelves and putting them on the doll while Arrden handled the trade for the bracelet. Then she’d gotten so excited about putting her new bracelet on, she’d probably left the doll up on the counter. Then they had to hurry home to make it back before Dad finished with book club, and they’d forgotten it entirely… well, at least he had it back now! Just a few more errands, and he could bring it back before Daisy got impatient and told on him.

“Of course, of course! Was there anything else you needed?”

“Uhm,” Flare cut in. “I was actually wanting to trade for these bee decorations, if they’re available?”

“Oh, of course, Flare, dear! What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve gotta run a few more errands, but I’ll see you guys in school?” Arrden said, already backing up towards the door.

“Oh, definitely! See you!” Azzy beamed, waving goodbye as Arrden made his way out.

Truth be told, Arden was a bit fidgety the entire ride to the Ferns’ place. He was so relieved to have found the doll, but so anxious to let it out of his sight again, so he held it tight in his grip most of the way there. At least, until he decided he didn’t want to risk dropping it, so he’d put it in his tote bag to keep it safe. But with all the flowers and jars and books in his bag at this point, the doll kinda half-hung out of it, and so he’d get paranoid that it’d fall out so then he’d clutch it tight in his hand again… what was usually a maybe twenty minute ride from Mrs. Kitterlings to the Ferns’ stretched to about thirty just because of his indecisiveness.

It probably didn’t help that the roads up to the Ferns’ weren’t all too great. They lived out near the fields--not too far from Azzy, actually--but it was a route better suited for bikes and wagons. Dirt roads weren’t too good for skateboards, so Arrden ended up on foot a good chunk of the way. Not that he actually had to travel too too far up the road, as the Ferns kept a farm stand at the end of the long driveway to their house, stocked with cartons of the day’s fresh eggs from their amassment of chickens, quail, and pigeons. Early in the mornings, you could even find a few glass bottles of milk down in the cooler, or a few blocks of cheese and butter, or baskets of whatever fruit was in season up on the table. All you had to do was leave something of worthy trade in the exchange basket, like flower cuttings, or seeds, or handmade jewelry, or… anything, honestly. His dad said the Ferns practically begged people to take their eggs from them in the past, and yet every year they were more than eager to get more chicks to add to their flocks.

Arrden placed a jar of calendulas and rudbeckias on the trade counter, gently placing a carton of chicken eggs and a glass jar from the ‘givebacks’ counter into his bag. At least it gave him a safe place to sit Little Daisy--he imagined the doll felt quite comfortable, sitting nestled in a glass jar all to herself. After making sure everything was safe and secure, he made his way back down the dirt road, hopping onto his skateboard the instant it became a viable option.

The ride to Junebugs took him to basically the opposite side of town from his house back in the suburbs, not that it meant all too much to him. He liked the solitude he got from riding around on his skateboard, humming his favorite songs and feeling the wind in his hair. Still, the street lights might be coming on by the time he actually made it back. He’d worry about that later, for now he had to hurry to Junebugs before they closed shop for the day. Fortunately, he made it just in time--the sign still read ‘Open!’ on their front door. He enjoyed the perfumed scent of the serviceberry and apple flowers as he rode under their reaching branches on the pathway, the colorful pink blooms of native rhododendrons growing in bright surges around their trunks. Junebugs’ front garden was always a wonderful sight to see, though part of it was because being there almost always meant leaving with something sweet.

The front window counter was still open, so Arrden stepped off his board and made his way over to ding the little bell on the counter. “Just one moment!” a voice called out from further inside. Of course, Arrden didn’t mind waiting--waiting just meant getting to enjoy the scent of sugar syrups and honeys and glazes, the colorful sight of candied fruits and flowers alongside baked cookies and other pastries settled on drying racks. He could feel his mouth starting to water at just the thought of taking a bite of some. Unfortunately, he had to save all the candy for his sister, otherwise she’d definitely pitch a fit.

It didn’t take too long at all for Mx. Junebug to return to the counter. Their fingers were still stained with various colors from dealing with so many plants and candies, but they brushed it off on their apron and smiled. “Hey! I like your patches, kid. How can I help you?”

“Oh, uhm, thank you!! Uhm, do you have any candied strawberries? Or violets, maybe?”

Mx. Junebug leaned on the counter. “I have both right now, just finished a batch earlier today. What’re you wanting to trade for ‘em?”

“I! Have! Uhm…” Arrden set his tote bag on the counter and gently reached in to pull out the jar of flowers that remained--a handful of zinnias and milkweed, which fortunately the two caterpillars were still munching away on. “My mom grows lots of flowers! And these ones had some caterpillars on them! I heard you like them?”

Mx. Junebug’s eyes grew wide, and Arrden knew he had a good trade before they even said anything. “I will absolutely take those little buggies off your hand! Give me a moment to get you all set up, alright?” they said, taking the jar in both hands before disappearing further into the house. Arrden leaned against the wall by the counter, lazily watching bees fly around the serviceberry blossoms as he hummed under his breath. Ultimately, it didn’t take all too long for Junebug to come back with a small bioplastic baggie of candied strawberries and violets, tied off with a little bow of teal rope. “Here you go, kid! Hope you enjoy ‘em!”

“Thanks so much, Mx. Junebug!” Arrden grinned, waving before he hopped back onto his skateboard and made his way back onto the main streets.

The ride back home was fairly uneventful. For Arrden, at least. Things in Aster slowed down, sure, but they never came to a full halt. Even now, strings of fairy lights were beginning to turn on amongst the market’s awnings, powered by solar panels that had been collecting energy all afternoon. Though most stalls stayed closed through the night, the street instead became something akin to a giant party hall for those who preferred to be active through the night. Older teens and young adults danced to a collection of music--on one end of the street, there was a punk band performing, while on the other someone had brought a speaker and was playing party tunes from their phone. Arrden was half-tempted to join them--Kendall had been to a few night parties and said they were loads of fun--but if he didn’t get home soon, his parents would be upset. So he had to muster all his self-control to stay on his board and skate past the festivities, skate past the cozy-looking library that was all aglow as late night readers nestled into beanbags and chairs. Once he made it past the nightly temptations, though, it was just softly glowing street lamps until he made it back home.

As he stepped back inside, he was greeted with the sight of his mother resting on the couch with Daisy in her lap, watching TV. His dad was in the kitchen playing rock songs on the radio as he sang and cooked.

“Hey, Ma! Hey, Dad! I’m home!” Arrden beamed.

“Glad you’re home safe! Took you a bit longer than I was expecting, was everything alright?” his dad said, peeking out from the kitchen doorway.

“A bit, but I got sidetracked talking to some friends. Sorry I’m late, though.” he said, making his way into the kitchen to set his bag down before rushing back out to hug his mother. “Hey, Ma! How was work?”

“Oh, it was good! I was just telling Daisy about the new window we’re working on for the community center’s new makerspace! It’s going to be big and round, with a lovely big daisy!”

“Daisy! Like me!” Daisy beamed.

Arrden grinned and ruffled his sister’s hair. “Daisy, like you! I bet it’s gonna look great, Mama, you can build anything!”

His mother leaned over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “You’re a sweetheart, Arrden, you know that? So, what’re you gonna do tonight?”

“Uh, I checked out some books from the library that I wanna read! I left them in the kitchen, actually, let me go get them!” Arrden hopped up from the couch to duck back into the kitchen to scoop up his books--and Daisy’s doll, hopefully before his dad spotted it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t so lucky--the doll was sitting in the jar, out on the counter beside his stack of books. He froze at the sight of it, and his father turned from the cooking to send him a look. Uh oh.

“Arrden? Let’s step outside a moment.” his father said, sliding a lid onto the simmering pasta sauce. “We need to chat.”

Uh oh.

Arrden nodded wordlessly, following his father out the back door into the backyard. There were a handful of fireflies flitting about as they made their way to the bench swing under the treehouse. His father leaned back in the seat, while Arrden sat hunched into his own shoulders. The silence was agonizing, as they sat out there, Arrden’s poor mind going wild with possibilities. He’d always tried to avoid getting into trouble with his parents, and he had a significant feeling that he was in trouble with his parents right now. Oh, he was never gonna get that spinning wheel at this rate, let alone a beehive!

“You went out to get Little Daisy back, didn’t you?” his father finally said, but he hadn’t looked away from the fireflies yet.

Arrden nodded quietly, then realized where his father’s eyes lay. “I-I did. I… wanted to bring it back before you realized it was gone, because…”

“Because you took Daisy out, even though we’d said she had to stay inside?”

“Y-Yes… I’m sorry, Dad, but she was being so sad, and I just wanted to cheer her up! We were safe the whole time, her ear didn’t even hurt at all, and--but… I shouldn’t have taken her, I’m sorry…”

His dad hummed. “I appreciate you looking out for your little sister, Arrden.” he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Lord knows my older brothers wouldn't've done the same for me at your age. And I understand why you wanted to find the doll before it became a larger issue. I’m not mad at you for trying to find the doll.” Arrden let out a sigh of relief, but paused as his father turned to him and held up a finger. “But. I’m a bit upset that you took Daisy out into the town without permission. What would you have done if she’d gotten hurt, or if her ear infection got worse while you were out?”

“...you’re right, Dad… does this mean I can’t have a spinning wheel…?”

His dad’s eyebrows arched, and his locs shifted as he tilted his head. “...not necessarily. I think you were irresponsible to do what I told you not to, but I can also see you were being responsible by looking for Little Daisy and owning up to your mistake. I do wish you would be more honest with me, though--I would have helped you look if you’d told me. And you wouldn’t’ve had to get bribe candy for your sister, either.”

“Did she tell on me?” Arrden pouted. “She promised not to if I got her candy.”

“I noticed she didn’t have the doll, and she was honest with me when I asked.” another hum from his dad. “...I’ll talk with your mother about letting you have a spinning wheel, but if you break our trust again, we’ll be pushing it back by at least a month. Alright?”

Arrden nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Dad.”

His dad laughed, ruffling his hair a moment as he stood to his feet. “You’re a good kid, Arrden. There’s worse things you could be doing than taking your sister out to play. Now, come on in when you’re ready, alright?”

“Alright, Dad.” at that, his Dad made his way inside, closing the door behind him, leaving Arrden sitting alone on the bench outside. He sighed, looking up at where the stars were beginning to peek their way through the darkening sky. He stayed there awhile, watching the fireflies and moths dance around the meadow, listening to the rustling of the wind in the tree’s branches, the gentle creak as he swung slowly back and forth on the swing.

He was a pretty good kid, huh?

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

Special thanks to @1wren and @105ttt for beta-reading this fic for me!

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 1

a/n: chapter 1!! let me know what you think! enjoyyy :)

Other Chapters

"Lucien"

He looks to the side like he heard something and proceeds to put the fire out "Get up, we have to go". Your head feels like it's going to explode "What do you mean we have to go? I'm not going anywhere with you". He gives a blank stare. "What?" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Where are you going to go?" You look around trying to figure out which way is the path but in the darkness that's an impossible task. "I need to get back to my hotel, my check out is tomorrow at 11". He cocks his head and his expression shifts from annoyed to confused. "What are you saying?" Am I the crazy one here? "I'm saying that I need to get back to my hotel, tomorrow I leave for Edinburgh and if I miss my train I'll be stranded". "I've never heard of a place called Edinburgh, what court is it-" He stops mid sentence and looks around sharply. "I'm sorry" he says as he puts his hands on your waist, flings you over his shoulder and takes off running. "What are you-? Put me down!" What is this guy on? He zigzags through the trees and you feel sick from the hasty movements. You begin kicking and punching and thrashing, attempting anything for him to put you down and let you make a break for it but it's as if you're nothing more than a bag on his shoulder, his grip remains firm. You open your mouth and bite down on the flesh of his back and to that he reacts with a groan. You bite down harder hoping it hurts enough for him to let go but instead he knocks your head against a tree and blackness swallows you up once again.

"Where did you find her?" a far away voice asks your captor. "She was in the Spring Court near the border. I don't know anything other than her name and that she's staying in a place called Edinburgh. Have you ever heard of it?" Lucien sounds exhausted and out of breath. "No, at least not in Prythian. Oh look she's waking up" you stir from where you lay. It's a nice sofa. You open your eyes to see you're in a beautifully decorated house. The walls are covered in exquisite floral paper, the other chairs look just as soft, the lamps glow with a warm delicate light and a fire burns in the hearth in the middle of the room. In front of you are Lucien and two others. A shorter woman with reddish hair and a taller man with brown hair all looking at you expectantly. "Where am I?" you ask wearily. Noting that you are unbound and they are unarmed, as far as you can tell. The woman speaks "Lucien brought you to the human lands". You blink. That seems redundant. But that's when you see it. The glimmer in her eyes is fire-like. Lucien's pointed ears and mechanical eye. The other man has a haunted look in his eyes, like he's burdened with lifetimes of sorrow. None of them have a Scottish accent. Human Lands. Your breathing get shallow as realization begins to set in.

It was years ago in a casual conversation with a friend. "Oh my god, y/n, have you heard about fairy circles?" She asked with a worried look that made you smile endearingly. "No, but tell me all about them" she raises her hand to her head and says "I was watching a TikTok about them, they are basically like circles in the ground and if you step on them you give the fairies permission to enter your life and they can be good fairies or bad fairies" you raise your eyebrows, "Oh, wow that's creepy". "Yeah, the bad fairies are hideous, the stuff of nightmares really" she takes out her phone and shows you the video. Laughing you joke about making a mental note to never step in the middle of something like that. That was years ago and it was obviously a clickbait video. But the circle... it was the same as the one in the forest and you know you didn't eat any magic shrooms. And this was real, you were awake and had a headache, maybe a minor concussion but the people or... the creatures in front of you were real there was no denying it. This can't be happening.

You start hyperventilating. "Jurian get her some water" the woman orders and steps closer to kneel in front of you. "Shh, hey, it's ok we are not going to hurt you" she says gently and hands you a glass of water. You take small sips and try to take deep breaths. "I'm not from here" you whisper. The three share a look and Lucien says "What do you mean?" I feel sick. "I mean I'm not from here, wherever this is. Before you found me I think I stepped through a portal or something that brought me here. I'm not even from Scotland, I was on a trip, I was hiking and then the rain and the fog and, and" the tears rushed out like a torrent. "I need to get back home, my parents are going to be worried sick and I have a life and a dog and I need to get back. Please help me get back. Please. Please. Please" you say between sobs as you imagine your parents worried that you didn't call when you said you would. You clutch the cup for dear life. The woman sits down next to you and puts her hand on your shoulder "We can help you get back to your home. Don't worry. Just breathe, and tell us everything about how you got here". You inhale and the whole story falls from your lips are you recount the hike, the clearing and the circle.

"A portal to this realm..." the man you assume is named Jurian says. "That seems dangerous" Lucien follows. The woman who introduced herself as Vassa while you were telling you story stands up and paces. "If there is someone powerful enough to open a portal to this realm and keep it open that is very dangerous indeed. Tomorrow you need to survey the clearing y/n mentioned and look for anything that could identify who is responsible." she looks at you, "You can stay here until we figure out how to send you back home" you nod and sink into the sofa, mouth dry and eyes puffy with tears.

"I think we should call Rhysand".

[sooniessoulmate]

𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝚌𝚑.𝟸 - 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝟶𝚝𝟾

♥️𝚌𝚑.𝟷 ♠️ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚌𝚑.𝟹♣️

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 - 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛

“Are you ready to have some fun?” a man’s voice sounded out from behind Y/N sending shivers down her spine.

She didn’t recognize the voice and had no idea of why she would be in this situation.

“Who are you?” y/n whimpered.

“Your worst enemy,” the man responded followed by a little chuckle.

Y/N struggled to get her arms loose with no success causing the man in the dark to laugh maniacally. 

“HELP ME!” she screamed, “SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!!!”

“AHHHHHHH!!!!! ANYBODY WE’RE IN HERE!” the man yelled, “I can yell too!” He laughed.

“What do you want from me?” Y/N asked practically in tears at this point.

The man gently stroked her hair, “I just want to have some fun,” he explained.

A door opened up  revealing a light from the outside hallway, and another man entered the dark, cold room. The lighting was still too dim that Y/N still couldn’t see who the men in the room were.

“You’re finally awake,” the second man said. “Did you enjoy your little nap?”

Y/N squinted, recognizing the man’s voice, “Justin?” she asked.  

“Yea you dumb bitch, who else would it be?” Hongjoong snarled. “How stupid can you be? Why would you leave a bar with someone you just met?”

“What do you want from me?” Y/N whimpered, ignoring his questions.

Hongjoong bent down in front of Y/N’s face, “This isn’t the time for you to be asking questions. If you want to make it out of here alive, I suggest you answer all of my questions, honestly,” he spit pushing her chair back causing Y/N to fall backwards onto the floor.

She screamed out in pain after hitting the ground, she struggled some more to get the restraints off.

The other man walked over and set her chair upright again.  

Hongjoong smirked at Y/N, “what do you know about Seven?”

“I don’t know too much,” she hesitated, “honestly.”

“Tell me everything you do know,” Hongjoong insisted as his phone dinged. He looked down at his phone and looked at Wooyoung, “I gotta go upstairs to deal with some shit. You handle this. Remember, don't kill her…yet.”

Hongjoong exited the room leaving Y/N and Wooyoung alone. She looked over to see Wooyoung evilly smiling at her. 

“Do you prefer a knife, a bat, or fire?” Wooyoung smiled.

“For what?” she panicked.

“For our little game, of course,” Wooyoung smiled as a red glint flashed in his eyes.

“I don't like any of those options,” she exclaimed.

“Awww,” Wooyoung pouted, gently rubbing a finger against her cheek, “then I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want as long as you don’t hurt me,” she bargained.

Wooyoung ignored Y/N’s answer and skipped over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf, big bad wolf, big bad wolf. Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Fa la la la,” Wooyoung happily sang as he removed a bat from the cabinet.

“Long ago there were three pigs. Little handsome piggy wigs. For the big bad, very bad, very big wolf,” Y/N sang.

Wooyoung stopped and stared at her for a second with a blank look on his face as a flash of white glinted in his eyes for a second. “Knock that off,” he ordered.

“Why can’t I sing with you?” she snapped.

“This isn’t your game…it’s mine!!!” Wooyoung yelled, slamming his bat against the wall. “NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT SEVEN, DAMN IT!”

“All I know is there’s a Jaebeom, Yieun, Bhuwakul, Sunmi, and a few others. They mostly work out of Club Madholic and Hongdae Club Aura,” Y/N explained. “Oh and most of their shipments come through Thailand.”

Wooyoung slowly walked over to her, bat in hand, making eye contact the entire time. “How do I know that is all you know?” Wooyoung asked.

“Why would I leave anything out? I’m not going to try to hide anything and risk my life for this.”

“Oh your life is already in danger,” Wooyoung smiled. “Tell me, how do you know all of this? Do you work for them?”

“No, I don’t work for them,” she sighed, “I’m not sure how I know this, I just do.”

♥️♠️Meanwhile♦️♣️

Hongjoong went upstairs and was met by San and Yunho.

“This better be good, I was starting to get somewhere with the bitch,” Hongjoong snarled.

“I said to send Wooyoung up,” Mingi announced walking into the room.

“I figured if anyone was gonna scare her, it was Woo so I’d just come up,” Hongjoong explained.

“Well we have a little bit of a problem,” Yunho announced. “Yeosang said the alarms were triggered, he thinks they’re coming for her. They must know we have her.”

A knock sounded on the front door.

“It’s showtime,” San smiled, walking over to the door.

Hongjoong went upstairs, grabbed the arctic warfare Magnum Rifle and made his way to the rooftop along with Yeosang as Yunho and Mingi hid around corners downstairs with their weapons cocked and ready.

San slowly opened the door, “Can I help you?” he asked.

“I know she’s here,” the man on the opposite side of the door said.

“There’s no she here,” San smiled. “Just me in this big ole house.”

“Bullshit!” the man argued. “Give her to me now and there won’t be any problems.”

“You can go fuck yourself,” San growled attempting to shut the door.

The man prevented the door from closing with his foot, which gave San ample time to pull his pistol out from its holster. The door opened back up and San fired his pistol in between the man’s eyes, killing him instantly.

Yunho and Mingi came out from around the corner.

“He can't be here alone,” Mingi said.

Just then they heard gunfire from the roof and the front door slowly opened up and a female quietly crept in. Yunho noticed the woman in the corner of his eye. He pulled his Ka Bar knife from his belt loop and threw it in the woman’s direction, hitting her in the heart. Her body fell to the floor and twitched around for a few seconds, while blood poured out onto the floor.

The gunfire from the roof subsided, Yeosang and Hongjoong returned downstairs. 

“That was all of them,” Yeosang announced after checking the secret security cameras on his phone. 

“How did they find her?” Mingi asked.

“Does she have her phone?” Yeosang wondered.

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong said. “I didn’t think to check.”

“Dumbass,” Yunho sighed, staring at the body of the woman he killed.

Wooyoung ran upstairs, “what was that?” He looked around at the bodies piled up on the floor.

“We had some visitors,” San announced.

Hongjoong’s phone started to ring, he pulled it out of his pocket, answered it, and placed the call on speaker.

“Dragon…” Hongjoong said, “Go ahead.”

“Everyone good?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yea everyone is fine,” San answered.

“I’m guessing you have the girl,” Seonghwa concluded.

“Of course we have her. I never fail a mission,” Hongjoong boasted.

Mingi rolled his eyes, “why are they going through so much trouble to get this bitch back?”

Hongjoong turned to Wooyoung, “did you get anything out of her?”

“She named names, two clubs, and a Thailand airport,” Wooyoung informed. 

“Do you think she knows more?” Seonghwa wondered. 

“No,” Wooyoung sighed. “I think she said all she knows but who knows.”

“We need to keep her alive,” Seonghwa informed. “If she’s this important to them she might come in handy.”

“She can stay in my room,” Wooyoung announced. 

Everyone turned to look at him, in shock. 

“What?” Wooyoung asked. 

Seonghwa laughed, “alright, she stays in Wooyoung’s room till I get back then we’ll figure things out.”

“There’s a green light on Y/N’s head” Yeosang announced, looking down at his phone. 

“All the more reason she needs to stay,” Seonghwa demanded. “You all need to keep her alive and whatever you do, make sure she doesn’t leave the house.”

“So now we’re babysitters too?” San groaned. 

“For the time being…yes,” Seonghwa snarled before disconnecting the call. 

Yunho bent down, pulling his knife out of the woman’s chest, wiping the excess blood onto her face. “Alright well i'm gonna go up to my room for a little,” he smiled. He picked the body up, bridal style and started towards the stairs. 

“No,” Mingi snapped. 

“But she’s mine, I killed her,” Yunho snarled. 

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” San sighed. 

“Seonghwa told you before, no bodies in your room,” Mingi said. 

“That’s not fair,” Yunho complained, “Wooyoung gets a toy, why can’t I?”

“That’s not a toy, Yunho, that’s a fucking dead body,” San said. “Besides, what the hell are you gonna do with her?”

Yunho stared at San as an evil smirk overtook his face, he opened his mouth to speak but San interrupted, “On second thought, I don't want to know, you sick fuck.”

Yunho rubbed her face, “maybe we’ll get the chance to play later,” he said before dropping her body on the floor with a thud. 

“Hello?” Y/N said lightly, walking into the corridor. 

“Did you untie her?” Hongjoong snapped, shooting a glare at Wooyoung. 

“How did you get untied?” Wooyoung asked, ignoring Hongjoong’s inquiry.

“I used my mouth,” Y/N reported. 

Wooyoung stared at her in amazement, “but how?” he wondered.

“Why aren’t you understanding this?” Y/N snapped. “I used my mouth to untie my hand then my hands for the rest. It’s not too difficult.”

Wooyoung grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards the basement again, “come on, I’m gonna tie you up again and you can show me.”

“Wooyoung,” Mingi sighed, “Let her be.”

Wooyoung stared intently at Y/N for a moment, “yea you’re right, I can do it later on tonight.”

“What do you mean, ‘later on tonight’?” Y/N asked. “I’m going home.”

“No you’re not,” San smirked, “you’re not leaving this house.”

“I’m not staying here and you can’t make me,” Y/N snapped.

“I believe we can make you,” Yunho smirked, taking his knife out of his belt loop again.

“Look around,” Hongjoong ordered jestering to the dead bodies on the ground, “this happened because they were trying to get to you.”

“Who?” Y/N snapped looking down at the bodies. She examined the female laying over by the steps, she gasped “oh my god, that’s Kazuha.”

“Kazu what?” San tried to repeat. 

“She’s in Seven,” Y/N announced. 

“Now how do you know her?” Wooyoung glared. 

“I told you, I don’t know,” Y/N panicked, placing her head onto her forehead. “How did they find me and why are they looking for me?”

Yeosang silently walked over to Y/N putting his hand out in front of her, Y/N placed her hand into his causing Yeosang to flinch pulling his hand back, “no, give me your phone,” he demanded. 

“My phone?” Y/N questioned. 

“Yea give it to me,” he demanded again as San walked up behind the boy. 

“Don’t play coy, little girl, give the man your fucking phone now,” San growled. 

Y/N blinked a few times before reaching into her pocket, pulling out her phone to hand it over. Yeosang took the phone, dropped it onto the floor and stomped hard on it. 

San looked at him surprised, “I thought you were gonna work your tech magic not act like an ape,” he smirked. 

Yeosang shrugged, walking back to his spot behind Mingi. 

“What the hell?” Y/N gasped. 

“That’s how they tracked you,” Mingi explained. 

“Fine that explains the how now somebody needs to explain the why,” she demanded. 

“They want you dead,” Wooyoung smirked. “That’s why you will be staying here.”

“I most certainly will not be staying here,” Y/N argued. 

“You don’t really have a choice,” Yunho snapped, staring at Kazuha again. 

“But they know I’m here, if they want me that bad won't they just come back?” she asked. 

“Hopefully,” San smirked. 

“So you expect me to just sit here like a sitting duck and wait to be killed,” Y/N argued. 

“Basically, yea,” Mingi nodded. 

“That’s not gonna happen,” she panicked. “I should be getting as far away from here as I can.”

“You’re not leaving,” Wooyoung snarled, grabbing her arm. 

“Don’t you get it?” Hongjoong started. “They have a green light on your head. If you leave you will be killed.”

“Well, if they know I’m here, wouldn’t it be smarter for me to get as far away from here as possible?”

“If you leave you’ll be all alone, here you have us to protect you,” Mingi explained.

“I don’t understand why you wanna help me,” she said, confused.

“Look, I don’t wanna be a goddamn babysitter, but it’s the boss’s orders and you can’t go,” San snapped.

“Besides, with you here, I might get the chance to have a moment with a different Kazuha,” Yunho announced while repositioning Kazuha’s body in a sitting position against the wall.

Yunho gently straightened Kazuha’s legs and crossed her arms and took the spot next to her, resting his head onto her shoulder.

Y/N glared at Yunho then glanced at each of the boys, as a glint of red flashed in her eyes, “I don’t need any protection. I made it this far in life and I don't plan on dying any time soon.”

Wooyoung recognized the red glint, cocking his head in her direction, “You don't have a damn choice in the matter,” he demanded as he grabbed her arm and pulled her up the stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs he turned around to face the boys, “clean the damn bodies up, you know what the blood does to me,” he demanded as a glint of white flashed in through his eyes.

“I don’t know which one of you two are worse,” Hongjoong announced, “Yunho and his fucking bodies or Woo with his blood.”

“They’re both sick fucks,” San snarled.

Wooyoung pulled Y/N into his bedroom and pushed her onto his bed. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and threw it at her.

“You smell like alcohol and smoke, you need to shower and get cleaned up,” Wooyoung ordered. “The bathroom is across the hall. I’ll wait here for you.”

“Devil?” Y/N whispered, “I don’t feel comfortable with all of this. I’d really like to just go home.”

“Don’t call me that,” Wooyoung snapped. “You call me Wooyoung, damn it!”

“So your name is Wooyoung?” she asked

“That’s what I just fucking said,” he snarled. “Now go get your shower!”

She quickly gathered the clothing that was thrown at her and she headed towards the bathroom. She walked out of Wooyoung’s bedroom and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She turned the water on, making sure the shower was as hot as could be and undressed before entering.

Allowing the water to run down her naked body, the night’s events flashed through her mind. “What is going on?” she thought to herself. “Why is this happening to me?”

She heard the door knob jiggle, knowing that she locked the door she wasn’t too concerned. A few seconds later, the bathroom door slowly opened up, “It’s not safe to lock doors in this house,” a man’s voice announced.

Y/N popped her head out of the shower and she saw Yunho standing in the doorway with a creepy smile on his face. He held his hand, exposing a pink ball. “Here are some underwear for you to wear,” he smiled. “They are clean, the blood stains just won’t come out.”

“I’m ok,” Y/N announced.

“NO!” Yunho yelled. “You will wear them!”

“Um, ok,” she submitted. “You can just put them with the other clothes.”

Yunho placed the blood stained panties on top of the sweatshirt, “if you rip them, I will rip your fucking head off.”

“I promise I will take good care of them,” she said. “Thank you for being thoughtful though.”

“Sure thing,” Yunho smiled before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

She finished her shower, dried off and started to get changed into the borrowed clothing. She held the panties up, examining the blood stains on them. Clearly, the underwear was washed prior so she felt ok to put them on, almost fearful of what would happen if she didn’t follow directions. She then pulled the hoodie over her head and attempted to put the sweatpants on as well. The sweatpants were way too big and wouldn’t stay up so she took them back off. She gathered up her dirty clothing and the sweatpants that were too large and left the bathroom, making her way back into Wooyoung’s bedroom.

Wooyoung was sitting at the desk, cleaning his AK-47, he glanced up, dropping the trigger pin on the ground when he saw Y/N before him wearing his sweatshirt and her legs exposed.

“Why don’t you have the pants on?” he asked.

“They were too big,” she explained. “Where should I put my clothing, Dev…I mean Wooyoung.”

“I don’t care,” Wooyoung said, retrieving the trigger pin from the ground and placing it on the desk with the rest of the parts. “It’s time to sleep.”

“Where am I sleeping?” she asked, looking around for another bed or sofa.

“In my bed, with me,” he announced as a white glint flashed in his eyes.

“I can’t sleep with you,” Y/N argued.

“You don't have a choice in anything. Now get into bed,” Wooyoung growled with widened eyes.

She did as she was told and crawled into the bed, Wooyoung laid down on the opposite side. She turned her back to him, pulling the covers up to her head, trying to control her breathing, not to expose her anxiety about the whole situation.

Wooyoung stared at the back of Y/N’s head for a moment, then reached over and turned the light off. 

“Good night,” Wooyoung whispered.

“Don't let the bed bugs bite,” Y/N responded, making Wooyoung smile.

She wasn’t able to sleep, nor did she want to. She knew what she needed to do, no matter how risky it may be.  She laid still, patiently waiting for any sign of Wooyoung being asleep. As the night went on, Wooyoung’s breathing started to become more intense.  She calmly turned over to face Wooyoung, she stared for a moment then slowly crawled out of bed. She retrieved her skirt from the corner of the room and pulled it up over the panties that Yunho gave her to wear. She grabbed her boots, and crept out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She paused to listen for any disturbance in the house but only silence fell on deaf ears.

She continued to creep down the hall, occasionally stepping on a creaky floorboard, causing panic with each step. She successfully made it down the stairs. She reached for the door knob on the front door.

“I would reconsider your choice, if I were you,” a man said from the top of the stairs behind her.

Y/N jumped, turned around startled, relieved when she saw it wasn’t Wooyoung. 

“I uh I just wanted to take a walk,” she attempted to lie.

San scooched down the stairs so he could see her in better lighting and so he could be seen as well. He was holding a knife in his right hand, twirling the edge of the blade in his left hand, evilly grinning at Y/N.

“How stupid do you think I am?” he smirked. 

“I don’t think you're stupid at all,” she argued. “I seriously just wanted…”

“You were trying to leave,” San interrupted. “I thought we made things clear earlier. You cannot leave this house.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I just want to go home.”

“And I want to kill you but we can't always get what we want,” San smirked. “But if you walk out that door, I can get what I want. So it’s up to you to decide what’s gonna happen.”

She stood still, frozen in fear, until reality hit her. She didn’t have a choice in the matter, she was stuck in this house and there was no way of escaping. She exhaled in defeat and slowly walked up the stairs, once again. When she walked past San, she huffed to expose her agitation by the whole situation.

Y/N crept back down the hall, hoping Wooyoung would still be sleeping. When she reached his bedroom, she took a deep breath before entering, relieved to see Wooyoung still laying peacefully in bed. She placed her boots back into the corner of the room and took her skirt off, placing it on top of the other dirty clothes. She crawled back into bed, laying in the original position she was in before trying to escape.

Wooyoung let out a long sigh, reaching over and placing his hand onto Y/N. 

The bright morning sun shone through the window onto Y/N, disturbing her restless slumber.  She rolled over to see Wooyoung was no longer in bed.  She looked around the room and saw she was all alone.  The bedroom door flew open, and Wooyoung walked inside. He threw a pile of clothing at her, “get dressed and come downstairs,” he ordered. 

“What for?” she questioned.

“You fucked up,” Wooyoung snarled walking out of the room.

♥️𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟 ♠️𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝♦️𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝♣️

♥️♠️𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽♦️♣️

@stayatinykatsy

[ejzah]

Blunt Force, Part 6

***

Deeks was released late in the afternoon the next day. Between last minute checks, paperwork, and finding someone to take him down to the lobby, he had a headache that had nothing to do with his concussion. Even so, he was beyond grateful to be going home.

Kensi had shown him pictures of his apartment, which was not the same dinky place he remembered. Thank god. That place had been truly awful, but the only thing he could afford a couple years out of law school and on a new public defender’s salary.

“You ready to go?” Kensi asked, coming back in his room with her phone in one hand. “Hetty’s letting me take the day.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Deeks told her immediately, even though the thought of going to an apartment he couldn’t remember setting foot in all by himself terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

“Deeks, I’m not leaving you all alone for your first day out of the hospital,” she said in an exasperated tone, echoing his thoughts. She had an uncanny ability to do that; he didn’t know if it solely came from working together so closely or something more.

He exhaled softly. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, he’d been wheeled out into the parking lot and safely loaded up into Kensi’s SUV. As Kensi carefully pulled out onto the road, he had the strangest sense of deja vu. He had no specific memory, just feeling that he’d been in this seat before, leaving a hospital with Kensi.

He didn’t say anything, not wanting to give Kensi false hope. Or himself.

Silence settled around them, but it wasn’t awkward. Deeks looked out the window, watching houses and trees pass by until the blur started to make him dizzy. Then he closed his eyes, and within minutes, the motion of the car lulled him to sleep.

***

Deeks jerked awake to Kensi gently shaking his shoulder.

“Ugh, sorry,” he muttered, blinking rapidly.

“You don’t have to apologize for falling asleep. You looked so comfortable there, I feel bad about waking you up,” she said, standing by while he slid out of the passenger seat.

He walked up to the apartment Kensi had shown him, conscious of her at his shoulder. He found the keys Sam Hanna gave him and unlocked the door, hesitating momentarily before he crossed the threshold.

It opened up into a living room area, furnished with a couch, television, and a good amount of pictures and other decorative pieces. He recognized one of the surfboards on the wall and his old guitar. So some things hadn’t changed completely. There were a couple pieces, like the gigantic light up arrow, he questioned.

“Do I still surf much?” he asked, wandering over to run his fingers over the waxy surface.

“Whenever you can. I know you want to more, but we work a lot of weekends,” Kensi answered.

“I guess not much has changed then. I get up, used to get up, before the sun to surf on days I had back-to-back cases.” He turned to a skateboard also standing upright against the wall near the door.

“You’ve taken me with a few times. We even went undercover as surfers once.”

Twisting his head to look at Kensi, he saw her standing behind him with her fingers tightly intertwined, face carefully blank.

“Really. Are you any good?”

“I’m not bad,” she said, holding his gaze for all of five seconds before she sighed in exasperation. “Damn, I can’t lie to the guy with amnesia. I’m not you. There, does that make you happy?”

“A little,” he said. Abandoning his explorations, he sat on the couch. Embarrassingly, just standing for a few minutes had sapped his energy.

“Can I make you something to eat? I can’t really cook, but I could heat up soup or make a sandwich,” Kensi said.

“I’m not really hungry.”

She smiled faintly. “Normally, you’d make some joke about how I think pop tarts are a gourmet meal.”

“Do you think that’s a gourmet meal?” he asked, gratified when her smile widened. He liked making her laugh and smile a little bit too much.

“No! But they’re good,” she protested, the immediacy of her response making him think this had been a common line of conversation between them. She sat down on the other side of the couch, seeming more comfortable in the face of their “argument”.

Resting his cheek on his fist, he regarded her with interest.

“Ok, what else classifies as edible on Kensi Blye’s list?” he wondered. She’d shared so much about him, but relatively about herself.

“Don’t laugh.” She gave him a severe look, to which he held up his hands, then she said, “Twinkies.”

“I’m sensing a pattern here. Is that why there were candy wrappers all over the floor of your car?”

“There were not!”

“I saw a Snickers and a Twix one right under the floor mat.”

“Oh my god, even with amnesia you’re obnoxious,” she groaned, crossing over the midpoint of the couch so she could gently elbow him. Despite her groans and protests, he got the distinct feeling she was enjoying herself.

“That’s not a no,” he pointed out. Tossing her head back, she gave in.

“Fine. Yes, I love junk food and I am a huge slob. I don’t fold clothes, I hate washing dishes, and if you didn’t keep up on it, the entire SUV would be covered in take out containers.”

This was the most animated he’d seen her in the last three days. It was fascinating. He relaxed into the couch cushions, Kensi’s arm brushing against his.

“Sounds like my college roommate.” He shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. “So, you told me we met on a shared case. What was it about? Did we interact much?”

Kensi chuckled at that, and he had the sense she’d thought of some inside joke. “We met on a case where we were both undercover, only neither of us realized it at first.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun.”

“Not exactly. You were undercover at an MMA gym, and had been for quite a while by the time we came into the picture,” Kensi explained, shaking her head with mild amusement. “We clocked each other right away. Well, I thought you were sketchy and you didn’t believe I was our victim’s girlfriend.” She paused to catch his eye. “I’ve never had anyone call me out that quickly. And I’ve also never admitted that to anyone, including you,” she admitted.

Deeks sensed the importance of that revelation and decided not to tease about it. Maybe he would have under normal circumstance, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Anyway, then Sam went in as a very experienced fighter. Since the gym had a heavy military background, they welcomed him in right away and offered the position you’d been working for right away. You ended up fighting it out for the spot,” Kensi continued.

“Seriously? I fought the guy who came here yesterday. The Mr. T wannabe?” Deeks demanded, vaguely amazed and horrified. Kensi snorted, pressing her lips together.

“I wouldn’t suggest calling Sam that to his face.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem wise. How did I not die?”

“You actually held your own pretty well for being in a completely different weight group than Sam. Not to mention, you were a lot leaner back then.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” She knocked his shoulder with the back of her hand, leaving it there. “We’ve been through a lot together,” she murmured, wiping her knuckles over her cheek, though not fast enough to stop a tear from escaping.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Deeks told her, automatically reaching to comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized in a slightly nasally voice. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

“I don’t mind.” Taking care of other people came naturally to him.

“I just—” Inhaling deeply, she held it for several seconds, and when she exhaled again, seemed to have more control. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, and I’m not blaming you at all, but it feels like I’ve lost you.”

Not sure what to say, Deeks lifted his free arm in invitation. Kensi buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. As he held her, slowly running his hand over her upper back, he felt a surge of protectiveness and affection.

“I may not remember meeting you the first time, or anything that happened after, but I’d like to get to know you again,” he said after a few minutes.

Kensi lifted her head, her eyes heartbreakingly hopeful. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Her eyes dropped to his lips then before drifting back up to meet his. She didn’t try to conceal the longing. Drifting closer, Deeks waited for Kensi to move back, to object, to do anything to indicate she didn’t want this. When she stayed, lips slightly parted and eyes still wide, he closed that last inch between them, kissing her.

Her lips were soft and slightly hesitant on his for a second. She tentatively deepened the kiss, cupping the back of his head in a way that felt both felt both strangely familiar and completely new. Electric.

Their lips parted and Kensi pulled away from him slowly.

“We don’t do this, do we?” he asked softly.

“No, but we wanted to,” Kensi answered. “At least I did.”

Deeks didn’t know what to do with that. Before he could even think of a response, Kensi scrambled up from the sofa. He missed her warmth and touch as soon as she was out of reach.

“I better go. You need rest.”

“We should talk about what just happened.” He started to get up but Kensi waved him back down, almost frantically. “No, don’t get up. I—call if you need anything.”

She was out the door with an impressive amount of speed, leaving Deeks to blink in confusion.

“What the hell just happened?” he muttered to himself.

***

A/N: So, that was dramatic. As much as she might want to, Kensi still can’t let herself take that leap just yet.