#have put them in a box this week and am shaking it violently to see what weird little pieces break off

[fooltofancy]

belated wip wednesdaythursday ft the pile of little things i poke at for six minutes at a time before scuttling back into my hide like a weird little prey animal (ty for the tag @lilas)

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys

A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.

I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3

Rated: T for suggestiveness

Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97

****

Toys

Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage.  Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first.  Save the trashy for later.  

She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on her skin.  

Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in.  And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.  

The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties.  There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men.  Oh, dear god, what did she walk into? 

“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice.  Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them.  She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out.  Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik.  “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated.  “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?” 

Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort.  Oh, Remy… 

Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one.  The Magneto one floats away.  “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?”  Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.  

Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines.  Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head.  “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice.  His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean.  “Scott, my telepathy.  It out o’ whack!  Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”

Rogue is dying inside.  She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.  

Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again.  “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice.  He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.  

He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling.  “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so.  “Fool, I am impervious to lightning…  How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”  

Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt.  Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.  

The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine.  Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out… 

“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious.  He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one.  Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice.  “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”  

Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his.  “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.”  He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused.  “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”  

In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one.  Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly.  Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head.  “Howdy, sugah.” 

Rogue tilts her head, amused.  Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.  

“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again.  This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple.  He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang.  The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.  

Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one.  “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.  

Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less.  She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?” 

Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter.  He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips.  “Jus��� havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.”  Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash.  “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly. 

“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately.   “You still salty about all that?”

He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes.  “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat.   Middle of the first season, too.  What’d I do to deserve dat?” 

“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair.  “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?” 

He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes.  “It was pretty epic, non?” 

“The best…”  She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting.  “Forget that show, Remy.  That ain’t our life.  This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace.  He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from.  “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light.  “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other.  And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”  

“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.”  He does and they do.  Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy.  She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.  

They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his.  “Hey, Remy?” 

“Oui?” 

“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”

He laughs into another kiss.  “You always have de best ideas, chere…” 

****

Later… 

In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.  

The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room.  The cats had gotten into some of it.  Poor Scott had fallen to the ground.  She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.  

She wants to ignore the others.  Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form.  Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it.  It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight.  Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous.  But it’s oddly still her.  A little version her.  

She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles.  The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate.  The cocky little grin.  They got his likeness perfectly.  And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.  

“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it.  She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.  

She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.  

[googleitlol]

This is a crack fic I wrote for a friend, be warned of the somewhat sexual content and the test to your sanity this may bring. I am so sorry. @tottybeanlove

Geno's Oreo

Geno stretches as he strolls into his kitchen, already in his muffin-themed pyjamas for the night. They are made from a sultry lilac silk that have been altered by one of Geno’s husbands, the pyjamas littered in muffins with little butter-berets and cute little faces. The muffins themselves are made of a cheap felt material, stapled to the shirt and pyjama pants.

The world’s #1 hater’s day has been a long one. Geno just finished up his 15 hour shift at Walmart; he counted a total of 8 lost children, 23 Karens, and 16 arguments between spouses in aisle 9 that resulted in divorce today. Thankfully, the day is now over and he can enjoy some rest at home. It’s a good thing he bought a special treat for himself earlier in the week.

Crouching down to a kitchen cupboard Geno knows is stocked with the the most mouth-watering of snacks, he opens it to find– the fuck? Where are they? He could have sworn he put them here, they were the first item on his grocery list yesterday! Geno even used his Super-Kawaii-Deluxe-Employee Discount of 0.05% off at Walmart. They haven’t even been opened yet, where could they have gone?

“Looking for something, Butter Muffin?”

Geno looks up to see his husband, the Six-Eared Macaque, perching atop the fridge like the gargoyle he is, a lazy grin on his face as he watches his precious Grass rise to his feet. “Why the fuck are you on the fridge??” Geno frowns, looking his smexy lover up and down with contempt.

Mahogany shrugs. “So your short-ass wouldn’t be able to reach me, Short-Ass.” Geno rolls his eyes over his lover’s antics. The two often teased one another with hateful words and unbridled rage, though they both knew their words were a simple mask over their uncontrollable lust for one another. Their other husband, Sun Wukong, would be having a good show tonight in bed. He also ordained their marriage, but that isn’t too important now. Not when Geno notices what’s in Macadamias’ hands. “Are– Are you eating my fucking oreos?!”

Macintosh glances down at the stack of oreos in his arms, and uses his tail to subtly brush away a few crumbs nestled in the corner of his mouth. They roll down his velvety fur, intricately weaving between each strand before landing on the top of the fridge. “…I didn’t see your name on them.”

“My name was on the fucking box!” Geno growls, and Macromole has to hold back from biting his soft, plump lips in reaction to the unadulterated attraction he feels in the moment. He has to remember that he won’t be able to do anything too visceral tonight, not while he carries his Snart-Fiffer’s unborn child.

Macho-Libre hums, his voice low and sensual. “I don’t see the box around here, Pookie-Stick, do you?”

“You took them out of the box!”

“You didn’t write your name on each individual one.”

“I shouldn’t have to, they’re supposed to stay in the fucking box!” Geno shouts, and Bear-Mace simply shrugs in reply before plopping a thick double-stuffed oreo in his mouth.

That’s the final straw, and before the One-Eyed Macrame can hear what’s about to happen, his lovely Oil Cheeks leaps up at him with the raw athletic power of Simone Biles jumping over Shaq. Geno manages to snatch Macrophage’s tail and yank it with him as he falls to the ground. Machinable barely has time to latch onto the fridge in order to stop himself from falling, his horde of cream-filled cookies scattering over the appliance and bouncing onto the floor where many of them break more violently than Bane breaking Batman’s back.

Geno clings to his hubby-zubby’s tail, and while his grip is strong (as Macaroni already knows), it isn’t strong enough for when the half-blind Shadow the Hedgehog begins whipping it back and forth in an attempt to shake him off, much like that one Taylor Swift song (Shake it Off is Taylor Swift, right?)

The shaking of his fat dumpy is enough to send his Kitten Whisker’s into orbit. However, seeing as they are both inside, Geno flies into the wall instead. The entire side of their kitchen snap, crackles, and crumples onto what one might consider a honey badger in human form, burying them in debris.

Mallory hops down from his safe-haven and rushes to what might have just become a crime scene. “Ranch? Are you okay, Biscuit Fart?”

A head pops out from the crumbled remains of the wall, much like the bulge in Macrofossil’s pants. “No, you threw me into a fucking wall!”

“Yeah, but like, are you hurt?” Macarena asks while turning away to start collecting whatever unbroken oreos he can find on the ground. After all, the five-second rule is still a thing fifteen seconds after food touches the floor.

Geno gives his lover a baffled look, half-wondering if he in-fact was more of a dumb-ass than he already believed him to be. “I CAN’T GET UP! THE FUCKING WALL CAVED IN ON ME!!!”

Macrobiotic’s ultra-hot-seductive voice makes a return as he hums, though it’s a borderline moan. Why would he be moaning at this? I don’t know, he’s a little fucked up. “Hmm… you should probably stay there, then. You don’t wanna move around too much and pull something, my Cutey-Hangnail-Toilet-Seat.”

“Screw you, jackass!” Geno seethes as Minnesota disappears into his own shadow before popping up beside his lover.

“I love you too, my Hubby-Wubby-Bubba-Boo.” He swoons before attempting to feed his Vanilla Wafer an oreo. However, his precious Parmesan refuses to eat it. Instead the creampie-sandwich sits on Geno’s face, over his air-tight sealed lips. Michegan really wants to devour those lips.

He refrains from doing so, instead stacking a few more oreos on his Sugar-Snot’s mouth before sharing a look of longing with him. Mariana-Trench looks at Sriracha-Sprinkler with a look of utter desire and lust while Geno himself glares with a look of unfiltered hatred. Truly, a match for the ages.

A wild Sun Wukong appears!

“Hey it’s me, Wukong!” He declares, not even taking steps into the kitchen. He just sort of slides into frame, I’m losing my sanity and this is becoming low budget.

Geno isn’t losing his sanity, he’s just tired of everyone’s shit. “SHUT THE FUCK UP, WUKONG!”

Both Wukong and Mac Miller gasp, a single diamond of a tear falling gracefully from the Great Sage’s face. “How could you?! I love you, Geno-Senpai!” He declares, dramatically placing a heartbroken hand over his chest while giving his lover the most chihuahua of puppy-dog eyes.

“If you love me, you’d get me back my goddamn oreos.” Geno scoffs, and the Monkey King looks between his lover, his other lover, and the oreos in his other lover’s gloves (Glove-rs? Donald Glover? Is this America?)

Due to the lack of budget, Wukong slides towards BigMac– the name he uses in bed– and robotically takes an oreo like the npc he is. He then places the oreo on top of the stack that is already on Geno’s face.

Trapped beneath the rubble of the wall, he can only glare at his husbands while plotting their murder (second murder, in Macaque’s case) “Jesus fucking Christ.”

In steps Jesus Christ, not sliding because the Son of the Holy Father is not constrained to simple things like budget. “You called?”

[novorehere]

Famished First-Time

Hello friends! This is an especially special post that I am very excited about, because the story you’re about to read was not written by myself. A friend who would like to remain anonymous submitted this amazing story to me and wanted me to post it to my blog for you all to enjoy. While they don’t have their own vore blog, I hope you can all enjoy and give them some praise and feedback! Words cannot describe how much I ADORE it, and I think you all will too no matter if you’re familiar with Obey Me or not <3 

Enjoy!

_____________

“Thank you!” Yuki, the lovely young cashier, smiled sweetly as Rayfa plunked down the appropriate amount of Grimm—plus a generous tip—onto the counter. “Come again!”

“You know I will!” Rayfa laughed, and the demon chick behind the counter laughed too. They had become fast friends—what with Rayfa being a proud regular and all—and Yuki knew she’d be back again within the week.

It always started with an unrelated shopping trip. An excursion to buy some nail polish and ribbons for her next sleepover with Asmo. Or perhaps an errand to pick up the newest video game Levi had pre-ordered, for he was too anxious to go out himself. Regardless of where her ventures began, they always ended back at the bakery—where she could purchase a little something for Beel. It hardly cost her anything (mostly because Yuki gave her legendary discounts) and Beel always got so adorably excited when she came home with dessert, so of course Rayfa had made it into a habit. It was such an easy way to put a smile on his face! How could she not?

“I’m already looking forward to it!” Yuki beamed. “See you next week, hun!”

“See you then!”

Rayfa carefully lifted the hefty white cake box into her hands, then began her leisurely walk back to the House of Lamentation, the soft chimes of the bakery’s doorbell twinkling faintly behind her. It was a lovely night outside, pleasantly warm but with the welcome caveat of a gentle breeze. It was the kind of evening that Rayfa liked to spend admiring the beauty of the Devildom, but something about this particular night was making her uneasy. She felt like she was being watched—nay, hunted. Instinctively, she quickened her pace, trying not to think about it. It was surely just her imagination.

Rayfa was maybe two blocks away from salvation—the HoL—when disaster finally struck. Out of nowhere, Rayfa felt burly/muscular arms wrap uncomfortably tightly around her waist. She readied herself to scream, but a freakishly large hand—with claws—clamped down over her mouth. She fought and kicked as violently as she could, but humans were no match for demons, and her attackers callously dragged her into the nearest alleyway.

Once they were far enough back not to be spotted from the sidewalk, Demon #1 forced her up against the wall and spat out an impatient order.

“I’m going to remove my hand now. Scream, and we’ll make things far messier than they need to be. You understand?”

Rayfa, shaking with fear, nodded frantically. Devildom nights were darker than black, and the streets had been relatively barren earlier, anyway. Rayfa doubted that anyone would come running even if she did scream. The clawed hand was removed, and Rayfa gasped for breath. It wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe before; She was just relieved to get that grimy hand away from her face.

“It’s not every day you see a human ’round these parts…” Demon #1 chuckled darkly.

Rayfa spied two more demons over his shoulder. So there were three of these fuckers, then.

Demon #1 stepped forward to grab her chin—to force her to look at him—which Rayfa desperately wanted to resist. Her self-preservation instincts told her to keep quiet though, and frustratedly, she obeyed.

…Until the dirtbag harassing her stepped purposefully on top of the cake box that had fallen from her grasp during the scuffle.

“That was for my friend…!” Rayfa growled angrily, surprising even herself with how upset she had gotten on Beel’s behalf—especially when her own current predicament was so much worse.

“Yeah, well-” Demon #1 scoffed and cruelly kicked the cake box aside. He stepped closer—again—and made a very deliberate show of licking his lips. “Your friend’s not the only one who needs to eat.”

Rayfa went pale. This guy was actually Oberon levels of creepy. (Levi would have been so proud of Rayfa for that SAO reference.)

“Wait! You-! You can’t eat me!” Rayfa squeaked. “I’m, like, the face of the exchange program! You could ruin relations between the three realms forever!”

“Tch. Like we care about that!” Demon #2 mocked boisterously. “We never wanted to make friends with those stuck-up celestials in the first place!”

“And humans, of course, are just snacks!” Demon #1 tacked on gleefully. “Who gives a fuck if Diavolo’s little exchange program falls through?”

Rayfa gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue more, but they had clearly already made up their minds. She was so royally screwed.

Demon #3, who had been relatively silent throughout the whole exchange, suddenly stepped closer. He was easily the largest of the three degenerate demons; Rayfa had to tilt her head almost all the way back just to meet his eyes. Intimidating. Demon #3 stared her down with the ferocity of a lion. Then he began to speak—quietly yet gruffly—the words foreign and unrecognizable. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. He was reciting a hex.

But by the time Rayfa realized, it was already too late. Her body shrank rapidly and she dizzily watched the world around her grow larger and larger and larger—until finally, she was left untouched at 2-3 inches tall. Things were not looking good for her. But! At such a small size, they couldn’t possibly clamp a hand down over her mouth again! Right?

Desperately, Rayfa began to recite the one phrase she prayed could get her out of this mess:

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it! Hear me and do as I command!”

“Stop her!” Demon #1 roared furiously, and Demon #3 (the nearest) made a desperate grab for her. Rayfa just barely managed to scramble out of the way before he could get his grubby hands on her, silently cursing the fact that the summoning incantation was so ungodly long. Nevertheless, she was determined to see it through.

“I, Rayfa, call upon you to send forth one of your number! I summon the Avatar of- HnghGruh!”

Though he had failed to grab her, Demon #3 was still determined to shut her up. He backhanded her—hard—which was enough to garble her words and send her flying backwards across the pavement. Rayfa winced at the scrapes she received. They were gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow, assuming she lived to see it.

Interrupted as she may have been, though, the spell—blessedly—had still gone through. There was a blinding flash of golden light, and then there, standing before her, was none other than…

Mammon, the Avatar of Greed.

Huh.

Rayfa had (admittedly) been hoping for Lucifer, but whatever panicked sound she’d made upon being swatted away had apparently sounded more like the word greed than the word pride. Honestly though, Rayfa was just relieved to see a familiar face.

…As endearingly incompetent as that familiar face could sometimes be.

Mammon stumbled around dazedly for a moment, and Rayfa felt guilty knowing that her poor casting of the spell was likely to blame. Quickly, she shook her head to clear her mind. Guilt could come later; Right now was her chance to escape!

Even though Mammon had not immediately chased off the three depraved demons, his unexpected appearance alone was more than enough of a distraction for Rayfa to work with. At the very least, she no longer felt quite as cornered as before. Demon #1, Demon #2, and Demon #3 were focused entirely on Mammon now, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to disappear. A full-sized demon was a much greater threat than a tiny human girl, after all! Rayfa instantly began scheming. Maybe she could subtly sneak away now, text Lucifer or Satan to come pick her up, and apologize to Mammon for using him as an escape later. He would fake like he was annoyed by it, she was sure, but there was no way these demons would actually be able to hurt him—not like they would hurt her—and Mammon would recognize that too. He’d just be relieved that he’d protected her, even if unknowingly at first.

Rayfa was just about to make her move, ready to dart out of the shady alleyway, but right before she took the first step, dark blue eyes swirled with gold locked onto her.

“Rayfa?!” Mammon spluttered out with confusion, as the last of the vertigo from her botched summoning spell finally wore off.

It took a good few seconds for Mammon to realize exactly what was happening, but eventually things did click for him, and the Avatar of Greed whirled on the lesser demons indignantly. Unfortunately for him, Demon #1 and his lackeys had finally recovered from the shock of their surprise visitor and were eager to make him pay.

“Oh shit!” Mammon swore, lightning-fast reflexes kicking into gear as he ducked to avoid a punch.

Demon #2 quickly lunged after him, but Mammon—surprisingly tactfully—sidestepped that, too. Levi really hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Mammon was “Fast as fuck, boi!” Seriously! He moved so quickly that Rayfa could scarcely make out a blur! Mammon deftly avoided several more attacks, then glanced around with wild eyes, searching for an out. When he found one—as he always did—his body moved before his brain could catch up. Rayfa supposed she shouldn’t hold his recklessness against him though. It was what she was currently banking on to save her life.

When Mammon finally threw a punch of his own, the attack was surprisingly calculated. His fist connected squarely with the jaw of the head honcho—Demon #1—and Mammon capitalized on that fact. All he had needed was an opening, which he’d succeeded in creating for himself when Demon #1 had stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. He quickly darted past the now capsized enemy, taking advantage of the clever little “escape route” that was open. And then…

Mammon just fucking ran for it, gravel flying as he skidded past the remaining two lackeys and began sprinting directly towards poor terrified Rayfa. He didn’t slow down as he neared her. In fact, Rayfa swore he sped up! She squeezed her eyes shut as Mammon barreled forward at breakneck speeds, leaning down at just the right moment to scoop her up as he careened away from the alley. Rayfa let out a squeak of alarm as she felt Mammon’s fingers curl around her, but she relaxed somewhat when she realized that he had actually taken great care to hold her securely (but not so tightly that she’d be uncomfortably squeezed).

And then, just like that, they were gone.

Rayfa hadn’t expected anything less from him. If there was one thing Mammon was great at, it was running away. (Usually from debt collectors or angry brothers, but the logic applied here too.)

“Oh shit! Oh fuck!” Mammon panicked, footsteps pounding heavily on the sidewalk. “I really don’t wanna die!”

Despite herself, Rayfa felt a smile playing on her lips. Even when Mammon actually managed to pull off something pretty damn cool, he was still an endearingly panicky mess. But Rayfa wouldn’t have him any other way.

A few tense minutes of running later, Mammon veered off into another alleyway further down the street, panting heavily. Quick as he was, he obviously didn’t have the stamina to go on running forever. He needed a breather, but Rayfa didn’t think they could afford to take one.

The demon muttered something frustratedly under his breath. Rayfa couldn’t quite catch the words, but she could only imagine he was cursing out their pursuers. Which was totally understandable—they very much deserved it—but what Rayfa couldn’t understand was why he had stopped to do so. Tired or not, they had to get home!

“Mammon?” Rayfa questioned nervously, gently prying his fingers apart to sneak a worried peek up at the demon. He held her level with his heart, hands cupped carefully around her, blue-gold eyes gazing down upon her worriedly. Had they not been dangerously preoccupied, Rayfa would’ve melted at how concerned he looked over her.

“I’m not gonna let ‘em have ya,” Mammon growled protectively. “You’re my human, ya hear?”

Mammon had always been relatively exceedingly protective of her, but Rayfa had never really minded. She thought the whole “keep you all to myself” thing was sweet, even, albeit in a very Mammon sort of way. But something about the way he was staring at her now…

For the first time since they’d met, Rayfa felt inherently nervous under the Avatar of Greed’s gaze.

“Uhhh, are you-” Rayfa started to say, but the demon’s hands suddenly lurched beneath her, causing her to yelp with surprise rather than finish her thought. “Aaa!”

Mammon determinedly brought her to eye-level, an uncharacteristically serious expression etched across handsome features.

“What are you doing?!” Rayfa nervously demanded, the demon’s sudden solemnity eating away at her. Mammon was never sober like this. To make matters worse, Rayfa could hear the angry shouts of the demons they’d run away from. Those fuckers were finally starting to catch up.

It seemed that Mammon had heard them too, their voices being what finally spurred him on to do the unthinkable.

“S-Sorry ‘bout this!”

Mammon rarely ever apologized, which only solidified Rayfa’s right to fear whatever was coming. She had a really really really bad feeling about this.

Mammon, looking just as nervous as Rayfa felt, awkwardly guided the brave little human towards his lips. He gulped nervously, then opened wide with an automatic “ahhh”, and realization came crashing down onto the girl like a tidal wave. Rayfa screamed and tried to scramble backwards, but Mammon quickly threw his head back and fervently crammed her in.

It was almost absurd how quickly the demon’s mouth flooded with drool. Rayfa whined with disgust as warm gooey saliva oozed over her, bubbling up and seeping through her clothes. Mammon cautiously brought his teeth back together, sealing her away inside, then began eagerly slurping down her staple human flavors. Rayfa felt herself blush, angry and embarrassed that Mammon was spending such an exorbitant amount of time tasting her.

“Mammon!” Rayfa seethed, practically shaking with rage. “What the fuck!”

She was exhausted and disgruntled and grossed out, but begrudgingly, she decided to put up with whatever episode Mammon was having right now because she trusted him. For all she knew, demon spit could reverse hexes cast on humans or something! Right, yeah. Mammon probably had a plan. She just needed to play along and-

*Glk!*

Mammon gulped thickly, and Rayfa suddenly felt the clench of tight/squishy muscle around her as she was sucked down into the boy’s throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, being worked deeper and deeper with every purposeful swallow. Mammon had been quick to stuff her into his mouth, but now that she was safely out of sight, Rayfa noticed, he was taking his sweet time getting her down. Slow, languid gulps. Pleasured hums vibrating around her. Fingers gingerly pressed against the throat, presumably to feel her fight back as he swallowed. Rayfa grimaced as she slowly squelched down his greedy gullet, squirming violently as the unyielding flesh easily suctioned her down.

“Stop enjoying this…!” Rayfa growled disgustedly. “Bastard…!”

Within the minute, Mammon finished swallowing her down, letting out a relieved and breathy sigh. Rayfa, meanwhile, gasped out as the tight, hot, unyielding throat finally gave way to a much roomier space. Fleshy and vulnerable, the squishy pink walls shifted easily around her as Rayfa scrambled to reorient herself. A noisy gurgle stretched on, echoing around the darkness. She had finally reached his stomach.

“…hububhhuhuhh…” Mammon babbled through what sounded like a very drooly mouthful.

“Mammon! Are you kidding me right now?!” Rayfa screamed, raging annoyance briefly overtaking her fear.

“…tha’ feelsh…” Mammon moaned out. “…so fuckin’ guhd…”

Rayfa shuddered at how the stomach lurched as Mammon stumbled almost-drunkenly backwards, then slumped against the grimy brick walls, slowly sliding down and lowering himself to the ground.

“Urghhh!” Rayfa groaned, utterly exasperated. “You! Are! The! Absolute! Worst!”

Every word was punctuated with an annoyed punch to the stomach walls. She only really succeeded in getting her fist all sticky/slimy with stomach ooze though; Manmon appeared entirely unaffected.

Rayfa surely would have chewed him out even more had she not been interrupted by a sickeningly familiar voice. Even though she was tucked away out of sight, she still shivered just hearing it. They had finally caught up.

“What did you do with the girl?!” Demon #1 demanded furiously.

“I, uh…” Mammon slurred. He had barely even begun to answer when his digestive system suddenly did the work for him, a deep and contented burp rolling up his throat. “Mrph. ‘Scuse me.”

It didn’t take much for Demon #1 and his lackeys to put two and two together after that.

“Bastard! She was supposed to be my lunch!” Demon #1 roared. “Get him!”

Rayfa hated that her heart leapt at the thought of Mammon getting caught up in trouble. Especially on her behalf. She was supposed to be angry at him—he had fucking eaten her—but much to her annoyance and embarrassment, she couldn’t shake the worry from her heart. She’d grown to care too much.

“Mammon, please! Get it together!” Rayfa urged, cursing herself for encouraging the man who had gulped her down like nothing more than an afternoon snack. But she couldn’t just sit idly by!

Mammon stayed seated, but Rayfa felt the stomach shift as he at least sat up straight. She felt a sudden surge of power flow through and around her, too. And when Mammon next spoke, his voice was unrecognizable.

“BaCK oFF,” Mammon snarled like a rabid dog, sounding like an actual demon for the first time since Rayfa had met him. “Or I’LL eaT yOU foR desSERT!”

Rayfa was pretty sure that Mammon only had a hankering for humans—not for other demons—but the threat worked all the same. Mammon almost never lost control, which made the few times he actually did downright terrifying. Rayfa could only imagine the looks of horror on her attackers’ faces as they trembled at the sight of the second son’s true form.

“Shit! I didn’t realize he was one of the seven Avatars-!”

“Okay, okay! You can keep the human! Just-!” An honest-to-god whimper. “Please don’t hurt us!”

“Quick! Let’s get out of here!”

Noises from the “outside world” (with the exception of voices) had proven too muffled to hear from within the confines of the demon boy’s gut, but Rayfa imagined that if she had been out there with him, she would’ve heard a stampede of receding footsteps. Her suspicions were further supported when she felt the energy needed to maintain his true form slowly fade away. Mammon let out a thoroughly contented puff of breath and relaxed back against the wall again, too. Demon form now totally dispelled. And then, in a move Rayfa never would’ve expected, Mammon began rubbing his belly appreciatively—she could feel the gentle weight on the other side of the “wall”. For a hopeful but fleeting moment, Rayfa almost believed he cared. But no! He had eaten her!

Rayfa tried desperately to work out why Mammon had done this. Had he decided that, if she was going to end up “demon food” anyway, it may as well be his belly she was filling? A memory from long ago suddenly sprung to the forefront of her mind:

“The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.”

“…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

Rayfa felt tears prickling at her eyes. So that was it then. Mammon had decided that if he couldn’t protect her, the least he could do was take her out himself.

Rayfa shuddered as the stomach gurgled loudly. It’d been relentlessly noisy—groaning and churning around her—for the entire duration of her “stay”. She felt drowned out, unsure whether or not Mammon could even hear her, but Rayfa had never been the type to give up.

“Mammon! They- They’re gone now, right? So then let me out!”

“…fiyve mr…minuhhs…” Mammon mumbled out, words slurred and utterly unintelligible.

Rayfa groaned.

Why are you like this?

Praying that Mammon could hear her—she still wasn’t totally sure her words would reach him from down there—Rayfa did the only thing she could think left to do. She called upon the power of the pact.

“MAMMON!!!” Rayfa roared at the top of her lungs, fingers crossed that he could actually hear her so that the pact would work. “SPIT! ME! OUT!”

Rayfa guessed her words must’ve gotten through to him, because just like that, the demon’s body began to obey. The stomach lurched, and Mammon began making throaty/guttural choking noises like he was dry-heaving. Rayfa felt herself being tugged back towards the esophagus—This was her way out!—but the gagging sounds poor Mammon was making were rapidly becoming unbearable. Rayfa was genuinely beginning to worry that she’d accidentally commanded him to choke himself.

“Hrrk, rggh, hrghk-!”

“Okay, okay! Stop! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Rayfa cursed her own lack of resolve. She was going to die here now. As nothing more than “demon food”—like Mammon always teased. All because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt the lovable dumbass who’d eaten her.

Her surroundings shook turbulently for another few seconds as coughs wracked Mammon’s body. He wasn’t choking anymore, thank god, but he was very clearly gasping for breath. Rayfa felt terribly guilty for putting him through that. When Mammon had finally cleared his throat, he muttered out an unabashedly annoyed:

“Ya know, it’d be a lot easier on the botha us if ya lemme cough you up myself.”

“You-!” Rayfa brightened at finally being addressed, tears of relief blurring her vision. “You were really going to let me out?”

“Well, duh.” Mammon shrugged, and Rayfa slid as the walls shifted around her. “If I wanted ya dead, I woulda let those lesser demons have ya.”

“But-! But you-!”

“Didn’t ya hear the protection spell?” Mammon grumbled, clearing his throat again. Apparently, some lingering discomfort remained. Rayfa winced sympathetically. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. “I cast one on ya right before I swallowed ya down.”

Ah. So that’s what he had been doing when she saw him “cursing out” the demons chasing them. Apparently, that flustered muttering had been a protection spell.

“Okay, fine! But why didn’t you answer me?!” Rayfa demanded shakily. “I was seriously freaking out, Mammon!”

“I, uh…” And the regret was practically tangible. He sounded immeasurably guilty. “’M sorry.” He finally settled on. “I didn’t mean to get buzzed like that.”

Yeah, Rayfa had figured that much out. She didn’t say so, though. Instead, she stayed patiently quiet, giving him room to elaborate.

“Humans really are a delicacy for us, ya know? And havin’ one alive and kickin’ in my belly…” Mammon mumbled embarrassedly. “…kinda fried my brain.”

Yeah, that checked out. Rayfa hummed in acknowledgement.

“Didn’t mean to give ya a heart attack though…” Mammon continued after a beat. “I really am sorry ‘bout that, Rayfa.”

He sounded so beyond apologetic that Rayfa couldn’t help but want to reach out to him. In moments like these—rare as they were—Rayfa would usually give him a hug. But obviously, that couldn’t quite be done…

Almost reflexively, Rayfa reached out with both hands, palms splayed against the squishy stomach walls. She gave a reassuring little shove—like a playful nudge to the shoulder—then slowly began rubbing soothing little circles into the flesh. Mammon shivered with delight at her touch; Rayfa could feel the stomach tremble with pleasure. Despite herself, she let out a little laugh.

“That good, huh?” Rayfa teased. The playful banter almost made her feel like they were chilling out on the couch together. Almost made her forget where she really was.

“Sh-Shaddup!”

Rayfa just knew he was blushing like crazy.

“I guess I should probably thank you for saving me,” Rayfa sighed wistfully. “Albeit through very unconventional means.”

Mammon huffed proudly. “You’re welcome! You should know by now never to doubt the Great Mammon!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rayfa waved away the egotistical comment. “Can the ‘Great Mammon’ cough me up already? It’s super gross down here.”

“Uh.” Mammon froze, and Rayfa could feel the stomach tense up nervously around her. “Just lemme getcha back to the dorms first. You’ve got a penchant for trouble and I don’t wantcha runnin’ into any more of it.”

Excuse me?! You think I’m the one with the penchant for trouble?!

It took Rayfa a moment to realize that Mammon didn’t actually think her a trouble-magnet. He just wanted an excuse to hold onto her for a little longer. Because he was enjoying it.

Rayfa sighed heavily. She knew she was going to regret this: “Yeah, okay. But you’d better let me out the second we get home.”

“Yeah, ‘course! Sure thing.”

Rayfa laughed and shook her head. Now that Mammon had gotten a taste, Rayfa had the distinct feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she found herself playing the role of “dinner”.

But curiously enough, Rayfa also found that maybe she didn’t totally mind. ❤️

[ominist]

BITTER REWARD

--- Part 3: Mourning ✧

Pairings- Dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!Auror!Reader x Auror!Ominis Gaunt Summary- Sebastian escapes from Azkaban after 8 years. The Ministry were on high alert and searching for the escaped fugitive. Newspapers and flyers spread with the danger that could come within encounter. Sebastian Sallow’s face was plastered all over public and communal areas of the Ministry. After working for the Ministry for years, MC and Ominis Gaunt were cut off from the search. The Ministry’s numbers as of late were short due to ongoing violent events and kidnappings. Both aurors were denied any involvement due to conflict of interest. They were secretly put under a watchful eye in case the fugitive decided to reach out to one of his old friends. After 2 weeks, the search proved fruitless. It was almost as if the man had disappeared into thin air. Due to lack of resources, the search and security lessened when it came to Sallow. This was, quote, only a temporary decision until something new came up.This was exactly what Sebastian Sallow was hoping for. After a watchful eye and a calculated risk, he bids his time before cornering you. As painful as it was, waiting a little longer would prove to be rewarding. Warnings- 18+, language, trauma, depression, angst, aged up characters, explicit content later on. Word Count-  9,201 Words Author’s Notes- So so much angst, I apologize in advance. Thank you for bearing with me, it’s been a rough past month. Love you all ❤

Writing Masterlist -- Part: 2 Reaping -- Part 4: Saving

There was a fire. A light shining on the onslaught that spread over the once empty street.

Everything was destroyed. Boxes, wagons, barrels, street lamps, windows, brick wall.

The broken wood appeared like dark paint against the stoned floor. The fire was growing slowly, taking more and more. Sebastian paid it no mind. 

His eyes did not move from MC as he held her. One hand held her against the wall, his thumb digging into her skin. The rest of his fingers gripping her neck. His hold was unbreakable. 

The other hand held her wand, pointing it against her chest. 

MC was immobile, unable to shake him. She could practically sense the of dark magic on his clothes. The stench was almost suffocating. She must be dreaming. 

“You- You of all people-,” his voice cracked. His emotion was so raw. She could not look away. 

“You were with me. You were there every single step of the way- For Anne. You- I gave all my trust, you had my unconditional loyalty.” 

He breathed hard, his eyes pierced into hers. Nothing could have prepared her for what he confessed next. “You had me. All of me.”

MC breathed through her nose. She was struggling to stay still now, she wanted to protest. 

But Sebastian did not let her.

“Of all the people that could have reported me and had me punished.. You.” 

His face came closer and his nose almost touched her cheek. He was smiling now, empty and cynical. 

“But tell me, I am curious..” MC felt her wand move up her chest and press hard against her chin. “When I was thrown in Azkaban, did it make you feel good…” His voice was dripping with poison. “… hero of Hogwarts?” 

MC felt his hand tighten around her neck as she refused to reply. She gasped softly, moving her hand over his in response. His hold was tightening slowly, his eyes not moving from hers. 

Then a voice spoke, and it came from behind Sebastian.

“I am the one that turned you in.” 

Sebastian tensed, feeling a wand press against his back. MC could see dark figure looming over his shoulder. Ominis had appeared so silently, a daunting threat.

Ominis looked pale, his skin bright in the dark. His eyes were set on Sebastian, not blinking or moving. His mouth was tight, cautious and unmoving. 

He appeared like an arch angel.

“Ominis,” Sebastian breathed through his teeth. Sebastian didn't seem to care about who had turned him in. It was clear. Sebastian saw them both equally as guilty. MC blinked as she watched Sebastian’s expression. She felt the wand in his hand press against her skin harder and she winced. 

“Put the wand down. Now,” Ominis demanded.

Sebastian could not look away from MC. Almost as if he was seeing Ominis through the reflection in her eyes. A crazed flash appeared on Sebastian’s face and she was being pulled from the wall. The wand that was pressed to her chin was now pressed to her neck. She was in front of Sebastian now, a shield. 

“I don’t think I will Ominis,” Sebastian answered. The wand moved from her neck to her cheek. 

MC could feel his arm wrap around her middle as he stood behind her. 

“This is between me and you Sebastian. She was not as involved as you believe her to be.” 

Ominis was starting to look more distressed. The grip on his wand was turning white. The longer MC looked at Ominis, the more clear it was that he was slightly shaken. She could only focus on the blue of his eyes as they looked in her direction. 

Again, Sebastian did no seem to be listening to Ominis. He only hummed and looked at Ominis over her shoulder. He was watching his old friend, registering his movement and distance. Sebastian was already calculating his next move as he continued talking.

“You took me away from Anne when she needed me the most,” Sebastian’s cynicism was gone instantly. His voice was deep and deadly. “You took me away from her when everyone had given up.. I could have found it. I could have found a cure for Anne."

Sebastian’s eyes flashed in Ominis’ direction as he continued to look over MC’s shoulder. There was no trace of forgiveness. “That is not something I could ever forget.” 

The expression on Ominis’ eyes changed. He seemed to be understanding Sebastian’s responses and tone when speaking about Anne. Ominis was set on explaining the truth to Sebastian as MC stood between the two of them with shaking hands.

Ominis voice was quiet, the sharpness and hostility was gone. “Sebastian, your sister Anne-”

The Auror was unable to finish his sentence before a green light was flashing over his face. Ominis protected himself just on time, his features contorted into surprise and indignation. 

Sebastian could not handle hearing Ominis speak Anne’s name. Sebastian had been the first to attack. He had pushed MC away and she fell to his left. To her panic, she remained on the floor unmoving. She could not move and only watched as Ominis and Sebastian went for each other’s throats. 

Ominis side stepped and moved quickly as Sebastian continued his onslaught of spells. Sebastian kept his spells going without a single pause. Every spell and curse pounced down on Ominis like a chaotic wave.  Each one potent and striking.

Ominis was light on his feet and blocked every single move. The past 8 years of experience was visible at that moment. Ominis had years of experience of dealing with dark wizards. He moved without faltering, hesitation, or recklessness. He moved with fluidity and poise.

In comparison, Sebastian was clearly lacking from years of imprisonment. Sebastian had only acquired a wand two weeks ago. But he was not intimidated by the Auror in front of him.  Seeing his old friend did not stop him from being being a threat, untamed, and unyielding. 

She watched as Sebastian used her wand as he stepped closer to Ominis. 

“I blame myself everyday Sebastian.”

Ominis spoke while he dodged and deflected Sebastian’s spells. Sebastian only responded with quickening his attacks. Hie expression was hard and violent. It was clear that he did not want to hear Ominis speak about his guilt. But Ominis did not stop.

“I blame myself for ruining your life. I should not have turned you in. That was not the solution.” Ominis was pained and ashamed. “Turning you in- That was the biggest loss in my life.” 

MC couldn’t move, she couldn’t respond to Ominis when Sebastian refused to. Ominis had never expressed these feelings to her and she was hearing them for the first time. She wanted to tell him it was not only his blame to take. MC’s eyes watered, that was the only thing she could do while she remained on the floor. Sebastian was not taking in Ominis’ words very well. His breathing turned haggard as he tried to disarm Ominis.

“I will never forgive myself for what you have become Sebastian. I know you will never forgive me. But listen to me when I tell you that Anne-” 

Ominis then fell on the ground and landed on his side. His expression contorted into pain. He writhed in pain and screamed. His cape moved under his body, his clothed torso was exposed to the cold air. His silver pocket watch fell on to the floor with a thud. Ominis’ body did not stop shaking until some time, leaving MC feeling desperate and hysterical by the sight in front of her. Sebastian had used the torture curse on Ominis. And she could not stop him.

Sebastian stepped closer to Ominis, watching him with wide eyes. He inched closer and watched him until Ominis stopped shaking. Ominis’ lips trembled and he let out a pained exhale.He was made to endure the agony from his nightmares. And Sebastian had been the one to make him relive that torment. Ominis could not remember how torturous this was when he was younger. But it had been a hundred times worse. 

Ominis was unwilling to get up, his strength had given in. He was at Sebastian’s feet. His breath was hallow.

Sebastian got down on one knee and pulled Ominis into a sitting position against the wall. 

To her horror, she watched as Sebastian muttered one word under his breath. Obliviate. 

MC could not do anything to stop him. She felt intense and deep anger building in her chest. She blinked her tears making it hard to watch the scene any longer. 

MC was pulled up and she almost felt her throat close in panic. She was already anticipating hearing the same spell from Sebastian. But she was pulled up until she was standing. And instead of obliviate, she heard something worse. Imperio.

MC was moving, walking down the street and away from the scene. She walked away from Ominis’ body. She was heading in the direction they had initially came from. 

Walk. Walk to your apartment.

Sebastian pressed her wand against her back as she continued to walk. MC struggled with the voice in her mind, she was fighting. When she reached her building, she saw no lights from the windows. She fought for control, wanting no more than to yell and scream. She needed to alert someone. Anyone. 

MC walked up the stairs until she reached her apartment door. She waited as Sebastian came to stand next to her. He unlocked the door and waited for her to walk in before closing it behind them. Sebastian looked around the apartment and walked into every room with the wand pointing. When he was sure no one else was there with them, he looked back at MC’s body near the door. 

Grab your belongings.

MC involuntarily moved in the direction of her room. Her hands grabbed a suitcase and started to grab garments of clothing from her dresser. Just stop. You are not going anywhere with him.

MC was not giving up, why is she listening to that voice in her head? 

Grab your belongings fast.

MC walked out of her room with the closed suitcase in her hands. She did not let it go, her grip was unbreakable. Let it go. 

MC watched Sebastian as he walked around her apartment. His back faced her, he was looking at his surroundings with a new found interest. Sebastian’s attention was elsewhere. He leaned over her coffee table, picking up the photographs. He put down her wand on the table in the process. He didn’t seem to hear the suitcase when it fell on the wooden floor.

Within seconds, chaos exploded in the quiet atmosphere. The sound of glass exploding, wood breaking, and furniture being dragged engulfed the air. 

MC had broken out of the imperius curse. And she had taken advantage of his distraction to use non-verbal spells. Her wand had started to move on table, glowing in response. 

Sebastian only had time to fall to the left and avoid the stunning curse. He had crawled behind the couch for cover. 

Her wand rolled in her direction, clattering on to the floor. But before MC’s eyes could focus on her wand, Sebastian had pulled his own and was already responding to her attack. MC barely avoided the red light and she felt it fly past her and hit the window. The glass fell behind her, spreading all over the paneled floor. She rolled into the doorway of the bedroom, using the wall as cover. Her hands gripped the wall as she came to her knees. She felt the air shift around her, and she barely moved away before the wall was bombarded. 

She gasped in surprise and covered her face. Sebastian’s voice was shaken, but he hid it with amusement. 

“Now now, come out and I promise I will go easy on you. I will not hurt you.. I think.” 

MC blinked as the dust settled. She could see a part of her living room through the hole on the wall. She started to breathe hard. She could hear Sebastian’s feet stepping over the broken glass, inching closer towards her. Then almost immediately, she no longer heard him. 

She could no longer hear the glass being stepped on, she could not hear his breathing, she could not feel the air.. 

In that exact moment, she could see his shadow falling over the hole on the wall. Her intuition screamed. He would see her through the gap if she stayed in the place she was at. She had no other choice but to lunge.. 

MC was then diving to the doorway. Sebastian had not expected to see her flying across the opening. She saw him aim his spells at her through the hole. She shot a couple more non-verbal spells in his direction to make him stall. By the time he was moving his wand down from deflecting them, MC was already running. 

She hid behind the couch and felt it fall against her back. She pressed her weight against it, not letting it fall over her. Sebastian continued to send spells against the couch, not showing mercy. She crawled on the floor, her palms trickling with pain over the broken glass. She crawled away from the couch. The photographs were broken on the floor, images of Ominis, Anne, and herself.. 

Her eyes fell on the familiar wooden wand. MC reached for her wand, praying-

She felt it before she saw it. 

The red light had hit her on the chest, right below her neck. MC was facing the ceiling and she was crying out. Her body convulsed on the floor, her back pressed against the broken glass. 

She withered and shook in pain as it coursed through her veins. It crawled through every crevice of her body. The piercing, stinging, throbbing.. She felt as if part of her body was being chiseled off. Time continued to pass and the torture continued to etch through her body. 

MC was panting, shock slowly appearing on her features as the pain dispersed from her body. 

She watched Sebastian’s face come closer. Sebastian was crouching over her, his face was dark as he looked down at her.

It suddenly weighed down on her as she saw his expression turned vengeful. Sebastian Sallow was the only person to ever use the cruciatus curse on her.

Even after 8 years of chasing after criminals with her dangerous occupation, she had never been tortured with that spell.. Not since the first time in Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium.

MC was unable to control the tears that gathered in her eyes.

Sebastian’s hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off the floor. She was placed on her knees, and her body continued to tremble. He brought something up for MC to see, a photograph. A photograph of Anne.

MC recognized the image immediately. Anne had given her the photograph shortly after MC had stopped the curse from developing and eat her further. Anne was smiling, her hair grown out around her shoulders in soft waves. Her face looked bright, healthy. She was standing in front of stoned bridge with the ocean in view. That was the town Anne currently resided in. 

“I failed her,” his voice was bleak. “I failed to find a cure for her.” 

Her eyes grew wide. She finally understood. Sebastian did not know that Anne was still alive. 

He thought she had died. Leading to his anger, malice, revenge.. In addition to the betrayal he felt from his two closest friends. This was what Ominis had tried to reveal to Sebastian moments ago. She tried to speak, but she only managed to open her lips. A gasp left her mouth. She wanted him to look at the photograph again. She wanted him to notice that she looked older than he remembered. She wanted him to know she was still alive.

“I could have cured her. I could have healed her..” His eyes moved from the photograph back to MC. “And you are to blame, Y/N.”

Sebastian rested the wand against her cheek as he gripped her shoulder. MC was in too much pain to even notice how hard his grip was. Sebastian’s eyes continued to darken as he looked at her. She could almost sense the words about to come out of his lips. 

She panicked, she couldn’t die. Not like this. Not when Anne’s life depended on her own. 

That was the burden that MC carried with her ever since she managed to find a temporary solution for Anne’s torment. Anne’s life was in her hands. If MC died, Anne would die.

She had stopped the curse temporarily. It had been similar to pressing down the knob on a pocket watch. Then, slowly turning the crown on the watch, making the time rewind. 

And immediately after her success, she felt the clock rest heavily in her pocket. 

MC had to keep turning back the time on the watch when she heard it ticking. 

This was the reason why this was only temporary. This is why she was still searching for a way to separate the curse from Anne completely. 

And she was so close. That was until she had to stop her progress due to the recent course of events. 

MC breathed out and started to struggle against Sebastian’s hold. She felt the hand on her shoulder move to her neck. She didn’t stop struggling. She knew she had to tell him the truth before he decided to cut out the air from her throat. She tried to speak again, this time finding her voice despite her trembling figure. 

“She is alive! Anne is alive-”

The words came out rushed and sudden. Almost a yell. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. Traces of the cruciatus curse vibrated through her voice. She didn’t even notice that she had been let go. She was gasping and coughing. Her hand reached for her neck, feeling the air pass through her lips. 

MC opened her eyes. She was met with the expression on Sebastian’s face. His eyes were no longer dark. His lips were slightly parted. There was shock, uncertainty, pivotal..

She felt her chest ache. The change in his demeanor reminded her of the old boyish Sebastian, eyes light and hopeful.

Sebastian's gaze was frozen on her, and then he stepped back. The glass crunched under his footing. He stepped back as if an electric current had coursed through his body. 

His eyes darted over to something behind MC. He walked over and his eyes found what he had looked over moments ago. MC turned her face in his direction. He was standing next to her desk, which remained untouched by the chaos that had occurred moments before. 

She watched him hold Anne’s letter in his hands. His hands shook as he read the contents of the letter. He stood there for a couple of minutes, reading the letter over and over. 

He kept reading it until it gave him the confirmation he needed. 

Sebastian pocketed the letter before he turned his attention back to MC. She felt her body giving up. If Sebastian was going to hurt her as he intended, there was not much she could do. 

MC could feel her insides growing numb, she felt her strength giving out. She couldn’t get up anymore.

But then she heard the sound of his feet walking away. She opened her eyes to see Sebastian head in the direction of the apartment door. When he disappeared, her eyes only set on the remains of her damaged furniture and the wall.. 

Her mind then remembered Ominis. She could imagine his body unconscious and cold on the empty street.

Sebastian had fled without finishing what he had planned. 

… *… * …

The ceiling was white, so bright. And suffocating. MC woke feeling disoriented. She blinked and noticed the dullness of her surroundings. She was no longer on her apartment floor. Her back was pressed on a bed, feeling the stiffness of the mattress. She couldn’t remember the last time she had waken in St Mungo’s.

The recollection of events that occurred earlier that Saturday were so fresh and easily remembered. She could remember majority of the events that happened. She had not suffered the same fate as Ominis. Sebastian had not wiped her memory.

Before she could get comfortable with her own thoughts, the door to the room opened. 

Two Aurors entered the room, both wearing long cloaks. The familiar blonde haired superior Stephen McNulty took off his hat as he walked in. Behind him, to her surprise, her office partner Jeremy Hampton followed. She had not seen Jeremy since the day of his accident and that felt like ages. MC could not hide the relief from her features as she greeted him. 

Jeremy looked content to see her too, but he remained controlled and serious. His expression alone gave up so much to MC. He was uneasy and uncomfortable, that was for certain. 

And surely, her superior started talking the moment they were both by her bedside. 

“Easy there L/N. You’re looking more lively. Your colleague seemed to have suffered a worse fate.” 

Ominis. 

MC sat up straighter on the bed, the mention of Ominis made her want to get up. McNulty put his hand up to stop her. 

“Don’t get up. Gaunt will recover, that is what the healers said earlier. But you do need to give a recount of what occurred. If you would be so willing L/N.” 

Jeremy made a movement, inching to sit in one of the chairs by her bed. But when his superior gave him a face, Jermey stopped pulling the chair and remained standing. Both Auror McNulty and Hampton were standing near her bed. 

MC noticed the gesture and her eyes became expressionless. Jeremy’s uneasiness made her translate the current scene a little deeper. Jeremy always been a honest and kind co-worker. She could still remember the small gestures of comradeship he would show her while they shared their office. It was a lot, coming from a department where everyone was ready to remove the rug under your feet when given the perfect opportunity. 

She started to tell them the events of her whole Saturday. She listed the series of events that had occurred all the way to being attacked. Then she started to give extreme detail to everything that had occurred within that hour. She felt her anger leak on to her face as she recalled Ominis’ body on the ground as he suffered. The images were too clear on her mind. After remembering Ominis left on the ground, the rest of the events became muddled. 

She couldn’t stop questioning why Sebastian had left her on her apartment floor. He planned to take her somewhere, that had been obvious. He had certain plans for her. Plans that did not include Ominis. Her throat was suddenly dry as she stopped talking. She had paused her story, right when Sebastian had grabbed her neck after cursing her. 

MC’s eyes were set on the opposite wall, but now they moved to the two Aurors she had ignored the past 15 minutes. McNulty’s eyes were fixed on her, almost as if he was trying to look through her. Hampton was listening to her words, looking troubled. McNulty’s floating pen and paper were almost silent. She had not even noticed it scribbling next to him. 

Her eyes went back to McNulty, and the way his shoulders tensed as he thought over her words.. 

MC couldn’t explain why, but she chose to leave out the end. Something in her stomach told her not to reveal what they were waiting to hear. She decided not to mention the truth she had revealed to Sebastian. She left out the letter he had taken. She decided to leave out the most crucial part of the information, Sebastian’s next destination. 

The pen kept scribbling even after she was done speaking.

Jeremy cleared his voice and he nodded at her, “Well, that was sure something to survive Y/N.” 

“A very odd something, to say the least,” McNulty finally spoke. Jeremy turned towards him. “And can you recall any information that might have made him leave? And leave you.. alone?” 

“No,” she said automatically. MC shook her head, convincing Jeremy at least. 

“He didn’t mention where he was going? Where you were both going?” McNulty continued. 

“No.”

“Did he contact you in any way before he attacked you tonight?”

“No.” 

“Did you recollect anything that might have given you clues on where he was currently hiding?”

“No.”

“Were you aware that Mr Ominis Gaunt was in your apartment shortly before the events unfolded?”

At that, she paused. She looked at McNulty, not able to explain why Ominis had been in her apartment. Specially when things had not been resolved between the two of them from their previous conversation. He must have came by wanting to talk. And he must have waited for her before he realized something was wrong.. 

“No,” she answered finally. 

“How long did you fight Mr Sallow? And can you give a list of spells he must have used? 

She shook her head at the second question, “I cannot recall. It could have not been more than 10 minutes-”

“What spells did you use tonight L/N? Can you recall?” 

“Check my wand. It’s right on the bedside table.” 

“We already took the liberty L/N,” McNulty admitted. 

The uneasiness was making MC feel more and more on edge. Everything that was being said in that moment, started to feel more offensive. Stephen McNulty, her superior was not letting her go easily. He was not believing her story or her credibility. And he was asking her questions that he already knew the answer for.

“Is there anything else L/N, anything that could help the current case.. Your case?” 

“I told you everything. I am not sure what else I can give you McNulty,” she said quietly. MC did her best to appear forthright.

“Perhaps a little Veritaserum could help your case L/N.”

The tension in the room suddenly rose. The disrespect, distrust, and caution was too much to take. The tension continued until it felt cold and eerie. 

MC cleared her throat and reached for a glass of water from the bedside table. She felt their gazes as she took her time. She poured the water on to the glass and brought it to her lips. 

Her eyes appeared like steel. She was antagonized. 

McNulty’s gaze continued to watch her, not letting it go. “If you have nothing to hide then-”

“That’s rich. Not as if you had me followed and watched the past two weeks.”

The air was more than stifling. The silence that followed was enough to hold back words. 

Hampton at least had the decency to look empathetic and embarrassed. A nurse walked in through the door, and the silence in the room broke. 

“Please excuse yourselves. The patient is currently still recovering. We need to check her vitals before her discharge.” 

MC never felt so relieved to have a nurse present. The two Aurors started to leave the room, but McNulty turned to MC again. His words were no-negotiable. 

“Come see me once you are discharged. We are not done.”

She had no choice but to let her anger simmer as she watched them walk out of the room. Jeremy looked relived as he closed the door behind them. 

The nurse moved her wand over her in silence. MC did not pay attention as she stared at the wall without moving. She was stuck in her own thoughts, reveling in the anger she felt due to the recent events. And then the frustration and betrayal she felt from the recent conversation. 

By the time she was finally able to leave the hospital room, it was past 2am. Would she be able to sleep once she got to her apartment? She had not slept, and she did not believe she would be able to. She made her way to the front of the hospital, looking for for her superior. 

When she found him, he had been waiting. He stood stiffly as she approached. 

He was waiting by a far wall, away from the front desk and the patients who waited in the lobby. MC once believed that McNulty was not so bad. Compared to Fawley, she had once found Stephen McNulty more agreeable. But after the past hour, she was regretting ever trusting him in the first place.

MC came to a stop in front of him and waited. The Auror sighed as he looked at her. She did not give up a single expression, looking almost cold. 

“It might be hard to believe, but I am really pulling my own hair here,” his voice was dropped down to a whisper. 

“That is hard to believe,” she confirmed just as quietly. This earned her a hard stare. 

“It has been impossible in the office recently. It is not looking too good for you MC. There are too many mishaps where ever you are involved. We do not have the proof but it-”

MC interrupted him with a hard laugh. She could not believe what she was hearing. MC had been labeled as a likely accomplice and she couldn’t even think what had caused it in the first place. McNulty had stopped talking. He watched as MC turned cynical, her eyes on his. She stepped closer to him, her voice unable to hide her anger.

“If you think that I would help a fugitive and put Ominis in danger..” 

“That is not what I meant L/N,” he answered, sounding exasperated. 

“Then let me help. I assure you, I can find Sebastian Sallow,” her words were stubborn and pleading. She was a couple of days away from returning to the Ministry. If only she could convince them of letting her back on and help in the search.. 

“That is out of the question L/N.” 

After 8 years of working extensively and risking her life, it started to feel like a big slap on the face. MC had proved herself over and over again, and now it was being questioned. They didn’t trust her. They didn’t believe in her. And now Ominis had been attacked and left on the cold floor when he had tried to save her. She had been tortured and held inside her own home against her will. MC did her best to control the turmoil inside of her as she spoke. 

“Your officers are all useless. You will not find him, I guarantee it.”

McNulty was now turning red with rage. But his tone did not break through to express it. He kept his composure, his voice strict and loud. 

“You are compromised. You were seen taking unauthorized documents from the archives weeks ago. The Aurors following you were all exposed and attacked at some point. We have looked into your history with Sallow, many individuals had things to say about how close the both of you were. And now, to see you untouched when your friend Gaunt was tortured and memory wiped clean..” 

MC was breathing hard, her eyes wide as she listened. How could this all be pointing back to her? Were they forgetting that Sebastian had attacked her hours ago? Sebastian had blasted a bloody hole through her apartment wall. She was seething in frustration and betrayal. 

McNulty’s eyes watched her. He had told her more than he should have. But he wanted her to understand the gravity of the situation and why she could never be part of the case. 

MC was too compromised. And she was suspected of being an accomplice. 

“You see why things are not going as planned?” He spoke to her quietly.

“By all means, detain me then. Stop me from aiding a fugitive and for trying to hurt my own family.  Keep me out of the way and keep tabs on me like a bloody animal.” 

“Careful L/N, you are walking on thin ice here,” his words were loud once again, sharp. 

MC took a moment to breathe, not listening to what McNulty had to say. She could not believe the position she was currently in. All the things he listed, how could they hold so much weight? What about the past 8 years of her career? When she finally spoke, her words were slow, every word carried weight as she spat them with rage.

“You will all fail. And I will be glad to see you all ashamed and embarrassed with the results of your fruitless search.” 

“Enough. You are suspended until further notice.” 

MC watched as McNulty walked away with finality. Her eyes stayed on his retreating back, feeling her insides shake from anger. He left the hospital through the front door and disappeared into the night. 

MC sat down as she tried to control her breathing. She took a moment to calm down, unable to believe her luck. She knew she had pushed it. The more she thought, the more it became apparent. She was to blame. She had underestimated the department, that part was clear.

But she could not restrain herself anymore. Not when she had been tiptoeing and feeling as if she was going insane the past 2 weeks. To calm herself, she looked at her clothes. The edges were worn from the glass she had rested on. Her palms were fully healed, no more glass etching at her skin. She was truly suspended now.

Before leaving the hospital, MC made her way to visit Ominis. She put on her best face and tried to appear unaffected by the recent punishment. She owed Ominis a visit before she stepped into the cold night.

MC followed a nurse as she was lead to a door. She opened it and stepped into the room. 

Ominis was resting on a bed, he did not look too wounded to her relief. His tired smile turned in her direction. His features brightened as he exclaimed, “Ah, my lovely MC.” 

MC walked closer to his side, and she tensed when she felt his hand reach for hers. 

She held his hand, unable to find the heart to pull her warm hands from his cold ones. 

“Apparently I had a bit of an accident. Things are a little hard to remember,” Ominis explained softly. 

“Ominis, I am so sorry this happened to you. I should have-” she started, but she was interrupted. Ominis shook his head, still smiling.

“Nothing to worry about MC. I will be getting those memories back. I just feel a little hazy, that’s all.”

She couldn’t speak further. Her eyes remained on him, unable to shake the feeling of dread. And loneliness. She didn’t have Ominis to lean on. She was going to be forced to endure Sebastian’s return on her own. Ominis, the voice of reason when she most needed it.. 

The best she could do was let him dwell on his ignorance a little longer. 

“What is the last thing you remember Ominis?” MC’s words were quiet. 

She looked into Ominis’ blue eyes as he responded, a little hesitant. 

“I remember that you were put on temporary leave. How long ago was that?” 

Rose sighed in relief. His memories were not too far gone. With only 2 weeks worth of missing information, he would be remembering everything soon enough.

“That was quite recent actually. You are right not too be too worried,” her tone was light and reassuring. She smiled even if it did not quite reach her eyes. 

MC waited for Ominis to fall asleep. She didn’t pull away her hand as she watched him close his eyes. 

By time time she was stepping out of the hospital, it was freezing. The wind hit her face and she breathed in relief. Despite the events that had happened the past hour, MC did not feel disappointed or let down. If anything, she felt even more motivated and driven by her anger. 

When she entered her apartment, she was met with her actual apartment.. As it was before the chaos that had occurred. The department must have collected all the evidence they needed before leaving it back in its original state. MC walked through the rooms, unable to detect a single item out of place. It was almost as if Sebastian had never set foot in her apartment.

She found the letter with the list of reparations on top of the coffee table.

She came to stand in the kitchen, her eyes falling on her desk by the window. Anne’s letter was missing, the more important clue of all. 

The longer she stayed in her apartment, the harder it was to ignore the feeling that she was not safe. She was being watched. Either by the Ministry, or..

Even if she stayed, she would not be able to sleep. MC walked into her room and grabbed her bag. She grabbed a couple of pieces of clothing and stuffed the garments into the bag. She moved fast and with urgency.  She had already made up her mind the moment she was officially suspended. In reality, being suspended did not feel any different than being temporarily demoted. It all felt the same. Empty, bitter, infuriating, and lost. She was acting solely on the assumption that there was not much to lose.

She would go after Sebastian Sallow. She would find him before the Ministry got to him. And once she did, she would make him pay for what he did not Ominis. She felt the anger, bitterness, and revenge settle in her stomach. She could not remember the last time she felt this way.

The first step to finding Sebastian, was to find Anne first. It would only be a matter of time before he found her. He had Anne’s letter, and it mentioned her recent locations. 

Her home by an oceanic village not mentioned in the letter, and Feldcroft. 

MC stepped out of the building and gazed down the empty street. She could not shake off the cold she felt on her skin. With one last exhale she apparated.

The familiar rustic door was lit by the light. MC could hear the hard breeze push against the plants in the garden. She stepped towards the door, noticing how dark the Feldcroft home felt. She knocked on the door as she looked at her surroundings. Under the moonlight, the neighborhood felt undisturbed. MC’s eyes moved back to the garden and she could see the many small plants that were recently planted. She could hear the sound of rustling before the door opened. 

“MC? What are you doing so late?” Anne peered through the door, only opening it wider for her. Before stepping in, MC’s eyes gazed around once more. Then the door is closed and locked a second later. 

MC didn’t speak as she checked all the windows and closed the curtains securely. She waved her wand and cast a couple of incantations around the small home. Anne waited by the door, her eyes watching her in silence and confusion. But she did not stop her. Anne came to sit at the table and lit a candle. 

“Has anyone visited you tonight Anne?” MC asked when she turned to look at her. 

Anne looked at her and shook her head in response. MC looked at her, trying to read her expression. Once MC was satisfied, she sat down on the chair across from her. Anne gestured to her cloak, and spoke quietly.

“Give me your cloak, I can hang it for you.” 

“That is not necessary Anne. I.. I don’t think I will be staying too long,” MC told her. Her voice dropped in volume. She left out the part where she thought about dragging Anne with her to safety.

Anne gives MC a look and she sighs. “You must be here for important business. If it is about the curse, I guarantee you that I am feeling alright. I have not been feeling dizzy, I don’t need another check up. I have been handling myself pretty well-” 

“No, Anne I am not here for that. Not this time,” MC interrupted her with a small smile. 

Anne paused and gave her a smile of her own, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well that is a first. You only seem to come visit me whenever you need to check up on it.” 

MC felt embarrassment the moment Anne spoke. She could not deny her statement, because it was true. MC looked down at the table for a moment. Anne reached out and takes her hand in hers. Anne’s hand is warm against MC’s cold ones. With a soft smile, she encourages her to continue. “What is the reason for this unexpected visit then Y/N?” 

MC finally mustered the patience and strength to tell her the events that occurred the past couple of hours. “I regret to say that you will need to stay calm when I tell you what has happened. I shouldn’t be here Anne, if they find out..” 

Anne straightened up in her seat and withdrew her hand. She waited for MC to speak, but her expression shows that she already suspected what it would be about. Her voice is quiet when she speaks again. “What has happened with the Ministry now MC? Don’t tell me you still do not have your position back?” 

MC shook her head and with a small smile. She confessed the truth. “I am no longer temporarily demoted. I am now suspended.” 

Anne looked angry and her hand patted MC’s hand. “You’re better than all that lot put together.” 

“You’re forgetting that Ominis is also part of that lot, Anne.” MC could not help but smile at her response. It made her feel somewhat less burdened by her suspension. But the mention of Ominis made her reel back to the purpose of her visit. She shifted in her chair and cleared her voice.

“Anne, what I am about to share is not easy. A lot happened the past couple of hours..” MC started off chronologically. She shared her perspective and point of view as best as she could. Her memory kept giving out, blurring certain things. But she forcefully told Anne everything that had happened, leading to the current late night Feldcroft visit. 

By the end, Anne was furious. She got up from her seat with so much tension in her body. It only gave MC anxiety to see her in that state. It reminded her of the times in the past when she had to calm down Anne when her health was deteriorating. 

Anne’s brows were set, her hair slightly messy from sleep, her eyes hardened. “Sebastian put you and Ominis in the hospital.. And he is looking for me?” 

“That is why I am here. You need to come with me, I will take us somewhere safe. I don’t want you be here when-” 

MC was interrupted when Anne’s eyes changed. Anne shook her head slowly, her eyes not moving from MC’s. The way Anne looked at her, she knew that Anne was going to refuse. And it made her chest hurt with stress. 

“If Sebastian is looking for me, I will not hide.”

That was all MC needed to hear. She exhaled harshly and she started to tap her boot against the floor. She thought hard, thinking of somehow dragging Anne out of there or somehow coming up with a plan in case Sebastian did come looking for Anne in the next couple of hours.. 

MC finally got up and she took off her cloak. She hung it by the door before she turned to face Anne again. “If you’re not coming with me, I guess I will need to stay then.” 

Anne didn’t refuse her request. But she looked uneasy now since she knew how MC’s interaction with Sebastian went. Anne spoke again, her voice tired. 

“How is Ominis? Will he be out of the hospital soon?” 

MC came to stand in front of Anne. She pulled her into a hug, and she reassured her quietly. “He will recover. The spell was not strong enough, he only forgot recent events.” 

Anne nodded against MC’s shoulder, feeling relieved. After a moment, Anne pulled away and walked around the room. She set out blankets and pillows for MC and on the bed next to hers. Within minutes, they were both in bed but neither could sleep. 

The silence was heavy. That was until Anne spoke, and it seemed to make the atmosphere more dreadful.

“Have you thought about what you would do if you found him again? Would you.. Would you detain him?” 

Silence. MC could not answer. She had not thought that far, and she was at a loss for words. 

Eventually Anne turned the other way and did not utter another word. 

MC’s eyes were glued to the door, unable to look away even when her eyes grew tired. This was even worse than sleeping in her apartment in London. It was almost as if they were both waiting for some kind of natural disaster to come and break down the whole house. She was jumpy and restless. But after an hour, she fell into a profound sleep. 

When she woke, she sat up on the bed with a start. Her eyes darted around the room in panic. 

Her hand gripped the wand under her pillow and took in her surroundings. She was still in Anne’s Feldcroft home. That was when she noticed that Anne was not in bed. 

MC kicked off the bed and pulled on her cloak. She cursed under her breath for falling asleep. 

She had not removed her clothes completely before laying down, and she only had to put on her boots. She darted out of the door with her wand drawn.

MC looked like a mad woman walking around the small town of Feldcroft so early in the morning. How early was it? The sun was not even rising yet. Her eyes were focused and bright despite her exhaustion. She walked through the town, not bothering to be quiet. Her breath came out loud and panicked. Had Anne left on her own? How could she have sneaked out without her notice? What if she had been taken?

No, Anne was not the kind of person to be taken. Anne would have fought teeth and nail before getting abducted. And Sebastian had no bad intentions or hatred towards his own twin sister. If anything the person she had to worry about if she ran into Sebastian again, was herself. 

MC continued to walk until she reached the hill that overlooked the town. When she made it half way up the hill, she heard voices. The voices got louder the more she approached the top.        

She walked quietly, suddenly careful and cautious. She found them right in the ruins where Isidora’s home once was. There was nothing there now, no stone no remains of what was once a destroyed home. There were trees all around the hill, and a lot of bushes.

Anne and Sebastian Sallow were standing under the trees, the moonlight brushing over their silhouettes as the breeze moved the branches above them. 

MC took in their appearances, they both looked like opposites. Anne was wearing a wool scarf, the color of autumns leaves. Her hair was soft as it moved in the cold breeze. Her cheeks were rosy. She was enveloped in a thick shawl. Sebastian looked ragged and hollow. His cheeks held no color, his freckles almost invisible on his skin. His eyes were piercing, holding such little warmth. His clothes were dark, just as she remembered them from hours ago. 

The closer she came, the easier it was to hear what they were saying. And they were arguing. The longer she heard their conversation, the more she realized that they have been talking for a while now. MC came the closest she could without being seen. She was ready to come to Anne’s defense if needed. She was not intending to ruin their moment, not yet. 

MC heard her name, and she felt her skin grow cold. Anne was defending her. 

“She is the reason why I am still here. Don’t you understand? Can’t you seem to even wonder how much she had to undergo to cure my curse? When all else failed and when we were all made to believe there was no hope and no-”

“I never gave up on you Anne. I would have found a cure. I would have- I would have cured you myself.” 

Anne breathed out in frustration and turned away from Sebastian. She had been arguing for quite some time now, and her patience was fading. Anne turned back to Sebastian and threw her hands in front of her in anger.

“That is not the point! She has been a friend, a sister to me. Her and Ominis- I could not ask for more. I love them both dearly. And you had the audacity to hurt them last night- Don’t you dare interrupt me!” 

Sebastian had been speaking up but stopped at the sight of Anne’s face. For once Sebastian did not look like a threat. Almost, like the boy he once was. The boy he was before he was thrown in Azkaban. MC felt her chest ache from where she watched. The familiar expression on his face, brows furrowed and his eyes sad.

He let Anne talk longer. He heard her voice and he was so fixated on her. Just her. 

Almost as if he was still trying to believe that she was still there. She was alive and still present in the world he was currently in. As much as he had failed already, he did not want to upset her.

When he finally spoke, his pain was so clear.

“Anne, my two closest friends turned me in. They both reported me to the Ministry- they ruined my future. They ruined my life. MC saved you, but you cannot expect me to forgive her.”

Sebastian’s tone could not hide his relief. He continued, his voice growing quieter.

“You cannot trust them Anne. They are the kind of people to hide the truth. For your sake, they would hide the truth from you.” 

MC felt her heart stop at his words. Everything he had said, she could not deny them. 

She had kept many things from Anne in the recent years. And it was just as he had said, to not hurt her. Then what came out of Anne’s mouth, MC had not been expecting it. And neither was Sebastian. 

Anne’s face was looking at the ground between them. Her voice was resolute and slow. 

“Ominis turned you in Sebastian.. He did it for me.” 

The silence was loud. MC could hear almost hear and feel Sebastian’s pain from where she was. And he did not respond. Anne kept talking.

“He had done it for me. He knew I could never.. Ominis will never admit it.” 

Anne’s words were so vulnerable and soft, her feelings towards Ominis were shown. And Sebastian seemed to have caught it. 

Sebastian was looking at his sister with wide eyes. MC could see the many emotions that crossed his features in that moment. After all those years, he was having a hard time coming to terms with the way the life continued without him. These were all emotions he did not have the liberty of feeling for so long.. And it was too overbearing for him. 

Sebastian could not be angry with his sister. But he felt alone and abandoned. Anne was not happy to see him after all that time spent imprisoned. He had made things so unfavorable for their reunion. But he did not have another choice. Sebastian’s expression was hard. But the tears that slipped down his cheeks betrayed the mask he struggled to hide behind. 

“I have done so many things, all that are not worth forgiving. I know this. I will live the rest of my life with these irreparable mistakes, Anne.” 

Sebastian looked at his sister, a broken man. He took a couple of steps closer. 

“If I had known- If I had been told that you were still here- Anne..” He reached out for her. His eyes were searching hers, unable to find the patience. “I would not have done what I.. I would not have behaved the way I did.” 

Anne was crying now. Her expression was frozen in the scowl she wore. Her tears were right. Anne did not reach out to take Sebastian’s hand. She only continued to look at him with bright and sad eyes. Sebastian kept talking, his words slow. He was struggling to put his feelings into words. 

“I only care about you Anne. And I am not in prison anymore. I need to know that you have forgiven me, for everything, and all that I have done.” 

MC watched as Sebastian Sallow admitted to his wrong doings. Begging for the forgiveness from his sister Anne. His only family. 

“There is not a day that passes that I regret what I have done. I cannot take it back. Uncle- Uncle Solomon-” 

Anne did not move, and only watched Sebastian cry as he mentioned their Uncle Solomon. Anne made no efforts to move to his side or to comfort him. She only watched as her brother came to terms with the past. Her hair moved around her face as she remained still. Her scarf slowly loosened around her neck. Her hands did not relax from the fists that rested on her sides. 

“I need it Anne. I need your forgiveness, and I.. And I will leave you alone. I will not bother you any longer.”

MC could not handle it any longer. She moved out from where she was hiding. She walked towards the two as they stood at the top of the hill. They both turned to look at her, the trees moved strongly overhead. 

At the sight of her reappearance, Sebastian completely changed. His stare became intense as he watched her approach. He tensed and he turned his body slightly in her direction. His hand dug into his pocket. Anne was watching her come closer with wide eyes, fearing for her safety. 

MC came to a stop at a distance. She could see Sebastian so clearly now under the moonlight. She had seen him vulnerable seconds earlier. The expression he wore now did not affect her in the slightest. Her own bones started to warm up as she looked at him. Her anger was slowly boiling once again. They both looked at each other, calculating and planning their next move. 

Before either Sebastian or MC could say a single word to each other, Anne moved first. And she came to stand in front of MC as she held her hand up to stop her. Anne’s palm pressed against MC’s middle and she turned to face her brother in panic. 

Anne was now in the middle of the two, and they both refused to act.

✧

[kpop-kitkat]

Not Ready | Hamada Asahi

pairing | boyfriend! hamada asahi x pregnant!f reader

genre/cw | mention of sex, condom, anxiety attacks, angst, unwanted pregnancy, tears, hurt comfort, very sweet bf asahi, much fluff

wc | 1.9k

notes | none, except asahi is so sweet I can’t-

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I sat on the sofa with my phone in hand, staring at my handsome boyfriend on the screen.

 "I miss you Jagi. Two more days until I get to see you," said Asahi through FaceTime. 

 "That's way too long," I sighed, pouting my lips and giving him puppy eyes.

 "Believe me Y/n, if it was my choice, I'd be cuddling you on that couch right now."

 "I know you would Sahi," I yawned, stretching my arms out.

 "Well, I don't want to keep you up. Get some sleep Jagi, I'll text you in the morning," he said with his beautiful smile that I am addicted to.

 "Night night," I waved, ending the call with a heavy heart. 

 I was about to set my phone down and go clean up the kitchen for the night, when a notification stopped me.

Health App

Your period was likely to start eight days ago. Have you started your period yet?

I clicked on the notification and noticed I was late. And I'm never late. But I considered the fact that I've been two weeks early before, so maybe it was just all over the place. I continued the clean up the kitchen and get a good eight hours of sleep. 

~~~~~

I arose with a sun ray shining in my eyes. I eagerly looked at my phone to see a text from "Jagi💕" .

Morning Beautiful

I smiled and texted back, "Morning Sahi." 

 I quickly got ready for the day, since the thought of Asahi returning the next day had me in a good mood.

I jammed out in the shower as usual, and was putting my makeup on when a notification gave me a jump scare. Of course I put my ringer all the way up.

Health App

Your period was likely to start nine days ago. Have you started your period yet?

This time, the notification gave me an unwanted anxiety attack. My heart rate picked up rapidly and I felt slightly dizzy. But I had to reassure myself it was fine. 

Today, I had made plans with friends, so I pushed my anxious thoughts away and enjoyed myself. 

~~~~~

Me and my friends Jisoo, Sana, and Yiren, all walked out of our favourite resturant with very full stomachs.

 "Thanks Sana," me, Jisoo, and Yiren said simultaneously, since Sana paid for the meal.

 "Of course! Anything for my besties," she giggled.

 We all sang Disney karaoke before stopping at me and Asahi's house. 

 "Thanks for the ride. Goodnight!" I waved as they drove away. 

Once in the house, I showered and got into bed, since it was already 10:45 p.m. and I was exhausted. I collapsed in bed and waited for sleep to overtake me, when anxiety returned. I tossed and turned, trying to win, but I failed. 

"It can't be, it can't be," I kept repeating to myself.

I sat up and rocked back and forth, tears threatening to fall. I decided I wasn't getting any sleep, even though I was tired, so I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet with the lid down. I held my head in my hands and tried to get my mind off of the situation. I kept telling myself everything was alright, but my violently shaking body told me otherwise. I felt dizzy and hot, and decided I was going to suffer if I didn't confirm it. I was even afraid to think of the word, let alone say it out loud. 

That night. It was about thirty five days ago. I was terribly lovesick, and needy. So Asahi and I decided to have a fun night with protection. I vividly remember seeing him slip on the condom... I know my brain wasn't tricking me. I wasn't drunk for heaven's sake. 

I trembled as I reached into the bathroom vanity drawer. I pulled out a box which held a Clear Blue... pregnancy test. I read the instructions with hazy eyes, and followed them carefully. 

~~~~~

I set the test on the counter to let it calibrate. 

 "Why am I shaking? It's gonna be negative... It's gonna be negative..." I tried to reassure myself.

I clasped my hands together and prayed for a negative result.

Beep

This was it. The results could mean two different things. One, I was paranoid and anxious for nothing, or two, me and Asahi's lives have changed forever. I preferred the first one very much. I love kids, but me and Asahi haven't really discussed the idea of having children. I didn't want to give him such a responsibility. And I didn't know if he'd leave me because of it.

I took a deep breath before picking it up and examining the result.

Pregnant 3 Weeks

I dropped the test in disbelief and let the tears fall. It felt like my life was coming to an end. We're only twenty one...

~~~~~

I rubbed my red eyes as waited for Asahi to step in through the door. I had been so lonely. Normally, I would try to dress nicely for my boyfriend, but I didn't feel like making an effort, especially since my morning sickness began to kick in. So I wore a t-shirt and shorts, with no makep and messy hair, which Asahi claimed to love.

I heard keys being inserted into the door. My heart rate sped up immediately. I ran to the door and waited. Asahi then stepped in through. He gave me a warm smile before setting down the f/c rose bouquet he bought me and extended his arms towards me. I giggled excitedly before rushing towards him and jumping into his embrace, wrapping my legs around his waist. He stumbled back a bit, but was quick to regain his balance and hug me back. He then began kissing all around my face. 

"I missed you so much Jagi," he smiled, before kissing my lips sweetly.

I hung onto his neck and kissed him back, letting all of my worries melt away.

 "Never leave me again please," I mumbled, pulling away and jumping off of him to examine the bouquet. "These are beautiful Sahi," I mentioned. "Thank you."

He laughed before pecking my lips as he began to scroll through his phone. "All the guys are hanging at the studio, but I told them I wanted to spend tonight with you. Unless you'd rather be alone, I-

"No! I want to be with you," I responded quickly.

"Good," he sighed. "Well, I'm going to take a shower. I'll be down to cuddle and whatever with you," he assured, setting his phone down on the kitchen counter before ascending the stairs. 

As he left, I grabbed his phone. When the lock screen lit up, it was a picture of him and I on our first date. I smiled at it before using facial recognition to unlock it. Yes, we had each other's faces saved on our phones. As I looked through his texts, I saw the Treasure group chat. Asahi really did tell them, "Sorry, won't make it tonight. I need to spend time with Y/n. I've been away too long. I'll see you guys tomorrow", to which Junkyu replied "It's fine. Go spend some time with your future wife ;)". It made me feel a bit guilty, but Asahi wanted to spend time with me, so I brushed it off.

I set it down and yawned as I ran a hand through my hair. I then decided to put on a movie and make popcorn for the two of us. I even made the couch super cozy with way too many blankets and pillows. We could make a fort honestly. 

As I waited for my boyfriend, realization hit me like a brick. How was I going to tell him we were having a baby? And how would he react? He's an idol, and a busy one at that. Is this the best thing for us? We're not even engaged. 

Asahi then walked in, his hair messy and dripping wet, wearing a t-shirt and flannel pants. It baffles me how a mortal being could be so ethereal. He smirked at my blushing face, which I failed at hiding.

He then sat beside me and patted his lap, signaling for me to sit on it. I smiled before complying. I situated myself onto his lap and leaned into his chest, pulling a blanket over us. I also grabbed the remote control and pressed play on the K-Drama I had chosen.

We shared our warmth and our hearts began to beat in sync. Then, I heard him begin to hum the melody to his song, Darari. 

"It's much better when you sing," I suggested, eyes closed.

 "Darararararari, neol bogo isseum eumagi, Babe. Neoreul wihan mellodi mellodi, yeah. Nega myujeunikka jal deureobwa, play it. Darararararari, neol bogo isseum eumagi, Babe. Neoreul wihan mellodi mellodi, yeah. Nega myujeunikka jal deureobwa, play it," he sung with his angelic voice. It almost lulled me to sleep.

I came to a conclusion. I had to tell him now. It was better for the both of us. As I thought about how I was going to say it, he noticed my breathing become heavier.

"Are you nervous about something?" he asked, leaning his head on top of mine.

As much as I tried to stop it, tears began to silently make their way down my face. He heard my sniffle and turned my body around so he could see my face. He wiped my tears with his thumbs and gave me a sympathetic look. 

"Y/n, Jagi what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry Asahi," I cried.

He gave me a confused look. "Sorry for what? I'm confused." 

"I'm pregnant," I said, wanting to get it over with. I was scared for what was to come, so I closed my eyes and tried to escape his hold. But I reopened them when Asahi didn't let me go. Instead, I saw a happy smile on his face.

"Why are you sorry about that?" he chuckled, eyes tearing up in happiness.

"You're not angry at me?" I asked.

"Of course not! I'm going to be a dad! You're not pranking me, are you?" 

I was shocked at his reaction, but I shook my head to answer his question.  

 "How could I be angry with you? If I was, it wouldn't make sense because I did this to you technically speaking," he laughed, bringing me some comedic relief.

 "I just thought, you know, you being a busy idol and all, you'd be overwhelmed and breakup with me," I admitted, looking down.

 "Hey," he tilted my chin up. "I love you, okay? And having a baby won't change that. I know it's a big responsibility for the both of us, but I'm willing to walk with you every step of the way. It's not going to be easy, but I believe we will get through it because we have love and trust. I will never leave you," he explained, causing me to tear up. "Let's go on this new journey together, alright?" he asked, connecting our foreheads.

"Alright," I laughed, trying to hold back the tears. "I love you so much Asahi. Thank you," I said, hugging him.

He hugged back immediately, then pulled away to bring me into a loving kiss. His hands made their way down to my stomach, where they began to rub circles.

 "I can't wait to meet them," he smiled into the kiss before pulling away and getting back into our cuddling position.

 "I l.o.v.e y.o.u."

[parvulous-writings]

Karl Heisenberg // SFW alphabet

Request: So there was no actual request, I just knew this would cheer up my closest friend. 

Dedicated to: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker

Summary: A sfw A-Z for Karl Heisenberg, from Resident Evil Village!

Warnings: Explicit language

Notes: Please, have some Soft!Heisenberg, bor. It’s one of the many, many things you deserve.  To those who have requested oneshots- I am working on them, please be patient! My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) 

He’s never affectionate publicly. Behind closed doors, though- well maybe he’s not your stereotypical lovey-dovey type, but hey-ho, he shows it in his own little way. A few hugs, but mostly through making you things. Music boxes, little figures and robots that wind up, you name it, he’ll try and make it. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

He’s not a friendly man, typically. He’s cold, and driven only by his motives. It takes a long time for him to warm up to you, but when he eventually does he is always by your side, whenever you should need him. Be it for violence, or for an ear to pour your thoughts into- even though half the time you swear he’s not listening completely. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Heisenberg likes warm cuddles above all others. The kind where he can pull you close and hold you there for a while- he likes feeling you against his chest. It’s comforting to him, after years of no affection and a torturous living experience. 

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Karl is not particularly skilled in any domestic skill. He’s very mediocre at cooking, and he can’t clean to save his life- his factory is littered with dust and other probably very harmful particles. He isn’t very good in a domestic environment at all, really. 

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Blunter than a broken pencil I’m afraid. He’s never had to hide something from you in the past, so why should this be any different? He would not want to beat around the bush here, he’d annoy himself with pleasantries and euphemisms. 

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

He’s perfectly fine staying as partners, without marriage looming over the pair of you. Quite frankly, he doesn’t think it’s worth it.  “A piece of damn paper to show someone your fucking devotion? Bullshit.” 

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Unless you’re shaking like a leaf or have specifically asked him to be gentle with or around you, he’s not going to be. He’ll treat you much how he treats most others- with a little bit of affection for zest and flavour every now and then. 

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

While he likes cuddles, he isn’t a huge fan of hugs. He thinks they’re too short to show any real affection, and often get in the way of whatever task the recipient is trying to perform.  

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

S l o w l y. This man has gone through some stuff, and doesn’t want to get attached to people despite falling for you. Give him a chance. 

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Okay so he may be “non-committal” in a loose sense of the term, but this man is one jealous motherfucker. And he gets angry. I’m talking  punching the wall, lashing out and breaking shit kind of angry. It’s mostly because of a nagging fear that not only will he lose you to someone you think is better or less monstrous than he is, but also in part due to a feeling that because of what he was forced to become, he isn’t good enough to keep you for himself. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He kisses you on your hands or neck mostly. Those are his favourite places to kiss you. He occasionally kisses you on the inside of your wrist. If you have any scars as well, he’ll kiss them. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

It depends. Sometimes he’s the perfect uncle figure, others he’s a whirlwind of rage. If you’re taking him to see some children for a prolonged amount of time, please check how he’s acting and feeling on the day so there isn’t some sort of horrific accident. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

There’s nothing special about them, he’s usually up long before you are. He doesn’t leave anything like a hot beverage behind, unless it’s a special occasion that he’s remembered- like a birthday or anniversary. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

He often tells you to go to bed before him, as he’s usually working on something, and would rather not have to worry about you being down in his factory and workshop. 

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

When he’s extremely angry. He gets riled up, then will start to spill facts and secrets while hardly even realising it. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has a very short fuse and a violent temper, to say the least. There’s a reason the man swears so much. Though he will often apologise if he’s scared you after an outburst. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

He remembers the basic things at the very least- Your name, your habits on eating and drinking, what you do to amuse yourself. He’s quite observant, actually. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

He made you a small music box once. The past part of his day, or his entire week, was seeing your smile as you opened it and listened to it for the first time. It was the widest he’d ever seen you smile, and he loved the feeling it gave him. 

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Very. One particular other Lord- “Lady Super-Sized Bitch,” as Heisenberg has dubbed her- is very interested in your presence, and Heisenberg has made it very much his business to keep you practically under lock and key to keep you safe. And when Ethan Winters comes around? Ooh, boy. You ain’t leaving his sight. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

He does try- through making trinkets and gadgets to both help you and show his affection. Sometimes it may not always seem that way though, with his outbursts and his tantrums. 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

He smokes. You tried to get him to quit once, then stopped when you realised it made him more irritable. 

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not that concerned. If he’s still kicking... Well that’s all that matters to him. 

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d feel that something’s wrong, something’s not right- a cog missing from a machine, in a sense. And he hates that feeling. 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

This man would die for some ice-cream. You bring him a tub of the stuff- BAM, instant good mood for the next like two days. 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

This man is not fussy, in the slightest. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

He basically doesn’t, he gets so little it’s a wonder he can actually function normally. 

[wherethewordsare]

I am once again hitting up your ask box to ask for fic

Can i pwease get selkie jask🥺👉👈

Cheese... As always, sorry this took a fucking age? I hope you like it? And just in time for Monster March!!! <3 <3 <3 

There had always been something about Jaskier that set Geralt on edge. But not in the way that he was used to. The way he would smile so easily even when Geralt was gruff and unrelenting left him disarmed and at ease. But it was also the way that there were nights when the moon was high and Jaskier couldn’t seem to find sleep that Geralt’s medallion seemed to buzz with a low but urgent hum. Those nights the smell of brine and sun and sawgrass was nearly chokingly strong, rolling off of Jaskier in waves stronger than a riptide. 

Magic. What kind, Geralt could never figure out. There had been something about the way Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve that made it feel like there was so little the bard would actually hide from him, but this one thing. Maybe there was siren blood in him after all, maybe it was fae? But no matter what it was, Geralt wasn’t about to send Jaskier away for something he couldn’t definitively prove. And even if he could, would he?

They were near Oxenfurt, summer coming to an end and Geralt watched with interest as every so often, Jaskier’s head would pop up from where he sat around their campfire, looking westward. The way he tilted his chin as though someone had called his name. 

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked. He kept his tone light, his own eyes following Jaskier’s gaze west. 

“Hmm,” was all he got, Jaskier not turning to look at him, his eyes focused on the line of trees across from him. It took him by surprise, their sudden unexpected role reversal. He chuckled. 

“Jask!” Geralt set down the armor he was cleaning, waving a cloth in front of Jaskier’s face. 

“Ah! Right, sorry. Got lost in thought for a moment,” he turned to look at Geralt, his eyes still glazed over with that lost look. “You know, my home isn’t too far from here.” 

“Oxenfurt is just a day’s ride. Have someone waiting for you?” Geralt teased but the idea of Jaskier having someone that could pull him away from the path they traveled together made his tone more accusatory than he had intended. 

“No, not…” Jaskier’s eyes wandered back west again as he fidgeted. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips as if he was ready to say something. 

Geralt’s medallion gave a soft hum where it rested against his skin, warmer than it had been. There was nothing here to fight, only Jaskier, face flushed from sitting too close to the fire, his white linen shirt clinging to him slightly in the late summer heat. The nights wouldn’t be cool for another few weeks and they wouldn’t part for a few weeks after that if the snows held off. Or maybe. 

Whatever it was that Jaskier wasn’t saying hung between them in the slight vibration of low magic and crickets. 

“Come with me to the coast? There’s something I need to take care of,” Jaskier was suddenly on his feet, striding with unsure steps to his bedroll, his hands wringing in front of him. The magic stopped and Geralt watched as Jaskier turned his back on where he had been watching. He could see it for what it was, an offer to an answer of a question neither of them had been brave enough to ask. Not yet. 

“Could be some contracts that way,” Geralt mused, reaching for his sword to clean next. 

If he hadn’t been a witcher, if his sight hadn’t been so keen and had he not been already so attuned to Jaskier, he might have missed it. They had been traveling together for what must have been well over a decade now, and never once had Geralt seen Jaskier pull away from him not even remotely. In the fading daylight, it was hard to miss now. The moment Geralt wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, Jaskier had flinched away. 

He made no comment, only letting the sword rest back against the log as he changed tactics, reaching instead for another piece of his armor to clean. He couldn’t seem to catch Jaskier’s eyes as the bard finally settled down into his bedroll, turning over so his back was to Geralt. 

There had always been something about Jaskier that had put Geralt on edge, the smell of sea salt and warm sand and kelp that always surfaced, even with all the oils and perfumes he would soak himself in. A kind of worry gripped him, a beginning of an end to the unsaid things between them. Geralt waited patiently for him to drift off, keeping an ear open for the steady even breaths that came when Jaskier slept. Only then did he reach for his swords to clean them.

Silently he prayed to whatever deity would hear him that he would not find reasons to draw them when they reached the coast. 

--

It had been an easy kind of journey, a day to Oxenfurt then another few days to the coast proper. Once they had left the last village behind, Jaskier led the way, keeping always a few strides out front, his fingers nervously tweaking out half conscience tunes on his lute, barely paying attention to anything other than moving onward. Geralt found that there were moments of unending chatter and then complete silence. 

The last night that they camped, the trees had become pine and the grass was rough under Geralt’s hands as he gathered wood for the fire. Jaskier sat quietly by his bedroll, his eyes brighter than they had been in what felt like weeks. He moved his jaw every now and again as though he was trying to find the words to say but the most Geralt could get out of him was broken off sentences and hesitant glances. 

“Do you always kill the monsters?” He asked finally, setting aside his quill and lacing his fingers together in front of him, thumbs twirling anxiously.

“Only the dangerous ones,” Geralt said quietly. He had made sure not to reach for his swords in front of Jaskier since that night he had asked to go to the coast, afraid that the answers would slide away like the tide. 

“Oh, and how do you know when they’re not dangerous?” It had been a conversation they had had before, but then Jaskier had been less pensive, more chatty, taking notes for his ballads. Now his eyes barely looked up from the fire. 

Above them, the moon hung heavy and full, silver catching in Jaskier’s dark hair and casting his features into ethereal shadows where the firelight did not quite reach. Geralt risked moving a little closer, using the poking the fire as pretense before sitting beside Jaskier. 

“What are we doing here, Jaskier?” He wasn’t accusatory or flippant. There had been answers that he needed and he wasn’t sure what the right ones would be. 

Jaskier sat very still, his tongue darting out for a moment. “You know I trust you?” 

It wasn’t what Geralt had been expecting. Hell, it wasn’t something he had even really knew needed saying, not out loud. But they sat there, the words hanging between them like a door that would either be thrown wide open or slammed shut and locked forever. 

Jaskier chuckled, looking away. “I… Can you trust me, Geralt?” He looked over then, his eyes seeming endlessly blue just then, and so full of something that tugged at Geralt’s chest. He only nodded and let the night slip into an easy quiet between them. 

“Fall isn’t too far off at this point. It will be winter before you know it.” It felt so off-balance, Geralt being the one to keep breaking the silence between them. “Unless you have an engagement in Oxenfurt already lined up, I was wondering if you might-” 

Jaskier made a choking sound, his head whipping around to look at Geralt. “Wait!” There was panic in his voice as his hands came up as if to protect himself. 

It wasn’t hard to scent in the air, the sharp sting of fear and anxiety, Jaskier’s heart hammering behind his ribs. His eyes looked wild and it took Geralt a moment not to pull back himself. 

“Wait,” Jaskier took a shaky breath, swallowing. “There’s… Before you ask anything of me, let’s get down to the beach tomorrow. And then-” He looked down, pulling his hands towards his chest. The fear was gone but the anxiety only seemed to grow. It spelled of kelp in the sun and cold oceans in a storm. “Then you can decide if you still want to ask.” 

“Jaskier-” 

“Not here, witcher. Let me get to the shore first?” It wasn’t uncommon for Jaskier to ask things of Geralt but it was rare that they felt this important, this urgent. 

The sound of the fire and the crickets and the ocean far down the hill were the only sounds between them after that. Jaskier after a time made a murmured good night and slipped into his bedroll without another word. Geralt tried to ignore the sharp scent of salt that came from him, different than the ocean, deeper, tinged in everything that made up Jaskier. He doubted either of them slept much that night. 

--

Geralt must have drifted off at some point, however. When he woke up early, the sun was barely up, the fire had banked itself overnight and he was alone save for Roach who grazed in the hazy morning light. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, bolting upright and turning. 

“Let me get to the shore first,” he had asked. 

He debated with himself for a moment before deciding that he would leave his swords behind him, though Geralt couldn’t quite bring himself to leave the dagger in his boot behind as well. He moved down towards the beach, following the path through the thinning trees. 

Something was off the moment he stepped out past the first dune. There in the sand, clothes trailed down to the water, Jaskier’s boots kicked off just at the bottom of the first outcropping of rock. Down the beach, a wall of stone rose above the breakers. It would no doubt have a system of caves throughout it. The last of Jaskier’s things seemed to lead that way.

Geralt followed, wishing that he had in fact brought his swords. His medallion hummed then vibrated, shaking against his chest violently as something broke above the waves just to his right. 

A smooth head and wide eyes tilted towards him in the early morning light. The sky above the ocean still dark, the last stars slipping over the far horizon with the last sliver of the moon. The thing in the water moved up to the beach, a large slick body, flippers pushing into the wet sand. 

It gave a kind of greeting, nodding at Geralt as it rested in the sand. 

He hadn’t seen one in so long, Geralt almost didn’t recognize it as a Harbor seal, it’s pelt dark around its face, fading into a spotted silver coat. He didn’t move, let alone breathe as they watched each other for a long moment. 

 When the seal began to push up its body contorting unnaturally, Geralt took a step back, automatically reaching for the knife in his boot. Dark eyes watched him and seemed… disappointed suddenly as the body of the seal continued to convulse and shift. 

The sun broke above the trees and caught the creature in the face and those eyes suddenly shimmered a bright blue. He couldn’t throw his knife down fast enough as the hood of a cloak fell back from Jaskier’s face, sullen and terrified. 

“Well, was worth a shot,” Jaskier gave a wet laugh, pulling his cloak tighter around him. 

“You’re a selkie.” Geralt said flatly, his hands coming up to show he had no weapons. “I thought you were a viscount.” 

To his surprise, Jaskier snorted, the tension in his shoulders relaxing some as shuffled his feet in the sand. 

“I am in fact a viscount and a selkie, on my mother’s side,” he winced. “My father keeps her cloak from her. I just barely managed to-” he swallowed looking down. “Listen, Geralt, I know you plan on going back to Kaer Morhen this winter, and even if you-” he huffed, his hand shooting out from his cloak to rub at the back of his head. 

“You need somewhere to hide your cloak.” a decade of unasked questions started to click into place.

“Yes,” Jaskier sighed. “But you don’t have to-”

“And you trust me? A witcher? Jaskier, if something happened to your cloak you-” would be stuck, would die, would never be free again. He left everything to blow away out to sea in the wind. 

“I do, I trust you as a man, Geralt. I know what I’m asking,” his eyes were sad and suddenly infinitely vast. 

The wind tugged the hem of Jaskier’s cloak, the silvery ends snapping in tune with the crash of the waves. Geralt could see the top of his one thigh peeking between the slick material and suddenly he was far too aware that Jaskier was standing naked in more ways than one on a beach telling Geralt he trusted him with his life. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a steadying breath. “Get dressed bard.” This level of vulnerability left him feeling dizzy with a feeling he wasn’t ready to look at just then. 

Before going to collect his clothes, Jaskier closed the distance between them, sliding his cloak from his shoulders, the fabric shimmering in the sunlight as he folded it carefully and rested it over Geralt’s arm. 

“Hold this for me?” he asked softly, not meeting Geralt’s eyes. “Keep it safe?” 

There was no hesitation in him as Geralt nodded, laying a careful hand over Jaskier’s, still on the cloak. “Always.”

[nat-20s]

for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see

~*~

A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts

Part 1

Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.

And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.

Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”

That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”

Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”

Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”

Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”

He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”

“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”

Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.

Part 2

Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.

He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.

Jon stops laughing.

Part 3

Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.

Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”

His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.

Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”

“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”

“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.

“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”

The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”

“It...might be.”

“Martin!”

“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”

“Just what?”

“I just missed your voice.”

Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”

“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”

Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead  of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”

“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”

“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”

“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”

“Whatever you like. Something nice?”

“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”

Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.

Part 4

please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back

Part 5

There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.

Part 6

Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.

Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.

There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.

There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.

Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even  during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.

Sometimes Martin despairs.

On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)

Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.

On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.

Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”

Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.

In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”

It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”

It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”

Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”

Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~*~

There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.

[ifmywishescametrue]

"You didn't deserve that... You deserve so much better." for buckytony pls 🤓

thank you for sending one! it got kind of out of hand lol so here's 2.2k of breaking up and making up. hope you like it!

Tony loses track of what the fight is about fairly quickly. He knows it started with what seemed like playful bickering, the kind their relationship was practically built on, but somewhere along the way the jabs turned much more pointed. Barbed wire wrapped around them, until each one was like a knife wound.

The first real cut came from him, he knows. Bucky's witty comment hit a little too close to one of his hundred insecurities, and reflex made him return it with too much sharpness. He can't blame Bucky for reacting, but they're both to blame for letting it get this out of hand. That’s not something that matters in the moment, though.

In the moment, all that matters is the careless insults and merciless words they lob back and forth. They chip away at each other and their relationship until it’s crumbling around them, but even that doesn’t matter. It becomes secondary to getting in the last word and one-upmanship, like it’s a competition for who can hurt who the most that they both desperately want to win, consequences be damned.

“You know this is why people keep leaving you,” Bucky says. “At some point it should be pretty damn obvious that it's you, not them.”

Tony laughs bitterly because the only other choice is crying. “Cause you're a real fucking prize, right? Bet people are just lining up to date a guy they're barely allowed to touch. And God forbid you ever try to do something nice for him, because it'll never actually be right.”

“Better than a guy with daddy issues so severe it'll take him two years to even tell you he loves you. Don't bother saying it in the meantime to him either, because he'll run off to hide for a week after each time.”

“Well, you know what, I'll make it easy for you, then,” Tony says, backing away to grab his jacket. “You don't have to worry about me and all my issues anymore.”

He forcefully shoves his arms into the sleeves and grabs his keys from the hook by the door. Bucky watches with a clenched jaw and doesn't try to stop him, not even when he pauses to give him the chance.

“What are you waiting for? Go ahead and run off. Prove my point.”

Tony shakes his head, an ache already forming in his chest that he ignores. “I’m not proving your point, because this isn’t running. This is breaking up with you because you’re a fucking asshole.”

He lets the door slam shut behind him and speedwalks down the hall, repeatedly pushing the elevator button. It doesn’t come quickly enough, and he flings open the door to the stairwell to rush down them. His vision blurs dangerously, and he can hardly see where he’s going, but he doesn’t slow down. The tears come freely with no around to see, until he’s out on the sidewalk and violently swipes them away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, only on getting as far away as possible.

Where he ends up shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. It’s muscle memory to come here at this point, a walk so familiar he could do it in his sleep and still manage to avoid all the cracks and uneven parts on the sidewalk on the way.

He stands outside of Shield’s Bar, neon lights coloring his face blue and pink, and he contemplates going in. It’s a Thursday, which means Clint is working the bar until midnight. Natasha will be waiting tables, and Steve will come in to replace her at ten.

All Bucky’s friends. He won’t get any of them in the breakup.

Steve will be the first to turn his back on him with his unwavering loyalty to his best friend. Clint will follow next because he hates tension and it’s the easier side to take. Natasha will be last, and she’ll claim that she loves them both and choosing sides is childish and ridiculous. But she’ll go, too, eventually. When none of her other friends will be in the same room as him, and all of their usual hangout spots become off limits. It’ll grow awkward and uncomfortable until promises to meet up turn into vague excuses and texts spaced months apart.

But where does he have to go if it isn’t here?

Rhodey’s on base in California, and Pepper moved back to New York the second her business degree was done. Staying in Boston was never the plan, not until Bucky and his found family welcomed him into their lives and made it feel like home. Where is there to go if home isn’t an option anymore?

He stands there long enough that people start to whisper as they pass by. They must think he’s lost his mind, staring blankly at a brick wall and hardly blinking, but he doesn’t hear what they say. Doesn’t hear anything but his own thoughts running in circles, going from anger to regret to shame and back again.

He wonders if Bucky’s right. If he truly is the reason it never works out. He knows he’s too insecure and emotionally unavailable. He demands too much and gives too little in return and doesn’t know how to communicate.

He used to watch his parents fight, orbiting around each other with avoidance and unspoken words until the dams broke and silence turned to screams, and he would swear that he would be better. If he was lucky enough to be in love with someone and have them love him in return, he would understand just how rare and beautiful that is and never take it for granted.

Easier said than done. Harder to face the fact that sometimes his words sound exactly like his father’s once did and sometimes he feels like his mother when he quietly lets himself be walked on and overlooked. The worst of both of them is tangled up inside of him, and it always kills whatever he touches.

Natasha finds him there eventually. She opens the door roughly, with intention that falters momentarily before she asks, “Do you plan on coming in at some point or are you staying out here all night?”

“I should probably go,” he says, quietly enough that it’s nearly lost to the wind.

Natasha watches him for a long moment, then steps out of the doorway to take his hand. She leads him over to an empty booth and slides into the opposite side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

She shrugs, “Steve will be here in a few minutes. No one’s going to die if they have to wait for their beer.”

Silence stretches on, and he stares down at his hands on the table. It’s warmer inside the bar, and he doesn’t realize that the cold has turned his fingers numb until they begin to unthaw.

“People coming in here were talking about some guy loitering outside. Some were saying he looked sad, some said lost. A few less optimistic people voted for strung out on drugs, but I think it’s safe to rule that one out now. Same with lost, seeing as you’ve been here a thousand times. That leaves sad, which means you had a fight with Bucky, and you didn’t come in, which means you think it’s your fault. Am I right so far?”

Tony nods, hanging his head low, and she continues to ask, “Do you want to talk about it or drink about it?”

“We broke up,” Tony mumbles. “I did it.”

She takes a long breath, and her hand is warm when it slips back into his. “Are you planning on fixing it?”

“Not sure it’s fixable. I said some things, he said some things. Can’t really take any of it back now.”

“People say things they don’t mean all the time. Doesn’t make it unforgivable.”

He shrugs like his heart isn’t broken. “Maybe it’s better off this way.”

Natasha sighs, “Tony.”

“What?”

“Go home.”

“Pretty sure I don’t have one of those anymore.”

“Of course you do,” she says softly. “I promise you that he wants you to come back.”

Tony shakes his head. “You weren’t there, Nat. You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened to know that he wants you to come home. If he feels even half as terrible as you look, he wants you. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s only over if you don’t go back.”

Tony bites his lip to keep it from quivering, and he asks, “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Well, it can’t exactly make things worse, can it?”

He huffs a humorless laugh, “I guess not.”

Natasha slides out of the booth, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Go home before he comes out looking for you, and text me in the morning to tell me I was right.”

She walks away, greeting Steve as he comes in, and Tony lingers there for another minute before getting up. He waves to them both on his way out and tries not to think about what she’ll tell Steve about his reason for being there.

The walk back to his and Bucky’s apartment seems quicker than the walk away from it, and Tony resents it for not giving him more time.

He takes the stairs again and hesitates outside the door, what ifs overwhelming his mind. What if he walks in and all of his things are packed up for him? What if Bucky isn’t even there or all of his belongings are gone instead? What if he can’t fix it and this is where it really ends? He doesn’t know if he could recover from that.

Turning the key in the lock, he opens the door slowly and holds his breath in trepidation.

Nothing looks different. No packed boxes, no smashed picture frames, no sign that anything ever went wrong.

Bucky is on the couch, curled into the corner with his legs held tight to his chest, and he doesn’t seem to notice that he isn’t alone anymore. It’s painfully quiet, and the single light that was on before isn’t enough now that it's grown darker outside, but he hasn’t turned any others on.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says into the silence. It’s as good a place as any to start. “You didn't deserve that. Any of it. The whole stupid thing. You deserve so much better. I should be better at this, but I’ve done a real shit job of it lately, I think. Maybe not even lately. Maybe I’ve been a terrible boyfriend the whole time, and in that case you should probably tell me to go and not come back, but I’d like to think there were at least moments where I was sort of okay, and I’d like to try to be more than just okay if you’ll let me.”

Bucky stares at him, lips parted and red-rimmed eyes unblinking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tony freezes, unsure of how to answer that, and Bucky unfolds himself to walk over and stand in front of him.

“You broke up with me,” Bucky says.

“Yes, but I -”

“No,” he interrupts. “You broke up with me.”

Tony frowns in confusion and slowly says again, “Yes.”

“That means I do the grovelling here, because I fucked it up. I beg for the second chance, because I crossed the line so far that you left. And I did it on purpose, too, because I had a shit day so I pushed until you pushed back,” Bucky explains. “And apparently I did such a good job being horrible to you that you think it’s your fault.”

Tony tries to process that, but it’s taking some time to work through. A complete turn around on his thoughts that almost makes him dizzy.

“Why did you have a shit day? What happened?”

“Is that really what you’re focusing on in all of that?” Bucky shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand through his hair. “God, it’s you that deserves better. That’s what I’m telling you here. You were right to leave, and I should be the one telling you I’m sorry.”

“You had a bad day and took it out on me. How many times have I done the same to you? You never once left.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No,” Tony agrees. He reaches for one of Bucky’s hands, because he needs the contact and has a feeling that Bucky does too. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not worth working on. I meant what I said about wanting to be better for you.”

Bucky nods, looking down at their joined hands. “I want to be better for you, too. How do we do that?”

“A lot of talking about our feelings, probably.”

Bucky pulls a face. “God, that sounds terrible.”

Tony laughs, taking his other hand to pull him in closer, “Yeah, it does, but we’ll get better at it eventually.”

“Can we start tomorrow?” Bucky asks. He leans down to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “I’d really like to just hold you tonight.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony murmurs. “Hold me tonight. It’ll be better in the morning.”

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 4

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Smut!! (Oral, male receiving. Sexual conduct. language.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:   Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one   thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a   family, right?

AN: Unedited because I was scrambling to finish before work. Comment on this chapter or inbox to be on taglist. thanks! much love, Cia.

                Chapter 4: Frozen, fuck you.

Misfortune came in the form of spots in your underwear the following week. You weren’t pregnant despite your best efforts. You took a personal day because of how bummed you were feeling, assuring Hotch that you could do your job from home. So you spent your morning eating terribly and reviewing the files Garcia sent you. Once you finish all your work for the day, you curl up on the couch with a pint of ice cream, bourbon and National Geographic. You’re hours in when you get a knock at your door. You stumble over and open it to reveal Spencer. He looks at you concerned as you very drunkenly head back to your couch, leaving the door open indicating you were inviting him in. He closes the door behind him looking at you concerned. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

“Wow, is this why they say you’re good at your job?” You say, rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N, should you even be drinking? You might be—“ 

“Did you know elephants are pregnant for almost 2 years?” You say pointing at the TV. “Why am I even asking? You know everything.” 

“Do you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Spencer says, kneeling in front of your perch on the couch. 

“Did you know it’s very difficult for female pandas to become pregnant?” You say, you feel your eyes becoming wet but you blink back the tears. “That makes two of us.” You shrug. 

It clicks for Spencer in that moment. “You’re not…” he asks. You shake your head. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. Maybe you should ask someone else. Maybe someone without a broken uterus.” 

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He says, cupping your cheek with his hand. You can’t help but nuzzle back into it. “I went to the doctor with you. Just because it didn’t happen this time doesn’t mean it won’t happen. Not everyone gets pregnant their first time trying.” 

“But people not trying at all end up pregnant the first time. What’s wrong with me?” The tear that’s been threatening the whole time finally falls down your cheek. Spencer swipes his thumb across it, looking sympathetically at you. 

“We can just try again next month, Y/N. We’ve got time, ok?” He says, you nod. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” You say. 

“No problem. Now come on, lay down.” He says, sitting down on the end of the couch and pulling you down to lay down onto his lap. “And stop watching National Geographic if it’s making you sad. We can even watch that movie with the talking toys if you want?” 

“All three?” 

“God, there’s three?!” 

———————————————

The following weeks are pretty uneventful. You guys caught murders and went to bars afterwards. You were in one bar after a particularly hard case with the team sans Spencer and Hotch when Derek asked you. 

“Ok, apparently you swore my girl to secrecy but I have to know.” He says to you from across the booth. “What is happening between you and Pretty Boy?” 

You throw a pointed look at Garcia, who just looks at you guiltily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morgan.” 

Emily chimes in at that. “Please! Before the two of you would either never talk or when you would, it’d end in an argument. Now suddenly he’s calling you on cases, not interrupting you when you’re presenting--” 

“Maybe, he just finally got some sense.” You interrupt. 

“See, I would say that too.” Emily says. “If he hadn’t asked me where to get that korean tea you like so much.” 

You knew what she was talking about. When you found out you weren’t pregnant and came back to work. You were still hopped up on extra hormones so when you went to make your favorite tea that morning and realized you had forgotten to get more so you were out. When you saw that, you started crying softly. You just wanted tea. Spencer walked in at that moment and you wiped your face furiously so he wouldn’t see the evidence of your tears before speeding out of the kitchen. The next day you walked into the kitchen, expecting to have to make shitty coffee instead, but there was a new box of your tea. You didn’t think much of it. You assumed Garcia got you the box. 

“He probably just wanted it for himself. The box has been feeling a little light lately.” You lie. “I’m serious though. Nothing’s going on.” We just have really hot sex in hopes of him impregnating me. You think. Everyone let’s it go at that point, changing the subject. You were thankful for that. 

——————————————-

The day came around again and Spencer wordlessly just got in your car after you guys’ shift and you didn’t question it, you knew the drill this time around. Spencer hums along to your music playing in the car. You look at him confused. 

“You know California Dreamin’?” You ask. 

“I uh-I heard you tell Garcia about how you liked The Mamas and Papas so I listened to some of their songs. I thought it’d help me understand you more.” 

You don’t turn towards him. You keep your eyes focused on the road so he wouldn’t see the marshmallow soft look that crossed your face. “Did you learn anything?” You ask. 

He clears his throat. “You listen to a lot of soft melodic music. I wouldn’t have thought that considering how you are.” 

“And how am I, Spencer Reid?” 

“Opinionated, loud.” You narrow your eyes at that one but say nothing. “Yet you listen to soft love songs, your favorite movie is Wizard of Oz and you watch nothing but Disney movies in your spare time. You’re not as scary as you think you are.” He says, getting out of the parked car. You speed out the car after him immediately. 

“I’m plenty scary!” You say as the two of you enter your house. 

“Uh-huh, and which Disney movie are we watching tonight?” 

“Frozen, fuck you.” You say leaving behind a laughing Spencer to go take your ovulation test. 

After discovering you were in fact ovulating you went to the living room to put on Frozen. You were about halfway into the sister’s adventure when you asked. 

“Spencer?” You asked from your perch laying on his shoulder. He turns his head down towards you, humming inquisitively. “Emily told me it was you who got my tea.” 

“I did.” He says. 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “It was upsetting you.” he says, like it’s obvious. 

“I mean, I was upset I was out, sure but it’s not your job to make sure I’m not upset.” 

“It’s specifically my job to do that, Y/N.” He says, turning so he can look you in the eyes. “Y/N, you’re literally about to be the mother of my child. That makes your happiness just as important as this child’s happiness. I’m going to take care of both of you so if buying a 10 dollar box of tea is what will make you happy, I have no issues doing so.” 

The look he gives you is so sincere and your heart flutters when he says it. You don’t know why but you’re suddenly bombarded with thoughts of kissing him and before you can stop yourself you do just that. Spencer hums in shock for a second. But quickly deepens the kiss, tongue tracing over yours. You moan slightly as his hands come up to cup your face. Eventually, the two of you separate, gasping for breath in the small space between you. 

“What was that for?” He says. 

You couldn’t say the real reason that you kissed him was because you wanted to, so bad. It would make things awkward and ruin what was an amazing plan. You needed to remember that you were doing this for the end goal, a child.

“I’m ovulating, so I figured we should start now.” You say. It was only half a lie. 

Spencer looks slightly disappointed for a second before he shakes it off. He stands and grabs your hand tugging you towards the bedroom wordlessly. Once inside, his mouth is on yours again. You smirk against his lips, hands going for each other’s respective clothes. Once undressed he deposits you on the bed, settling into the space between your legs. He’s leaving open mouth bruises on your neck and chest as his hands travel down your body. You stopped him, it wasn’t that you didn’t want that, but you had other plans. 

He looks at you confused for a second. A look that’s replaced completely with wanton desire when you start trailing a hand up and down is underwear clad length. You watch his eyes flutter shut for a second, relishing in the feeling. You smirk at that. You lean up to speak in his ear. 

“I want to ride you.” You say, you feel Spencer’s member twitch in your palm as you say it. “Can I?” 

Spencer nods fast, moving off of you to lay flat on his back. He goes to take off his underwear but you stop him, wanting to do it yourself. You tugged them down his body and as you crawled your way back up you found yourself face to face with a certain predicament. An intrusive thought pops in your head and before you can stop yourself you ask. 

“Can I?” You whisper, you didn’t finish the question but your face was right next to his dick so you figured he’d get the gist. 

“You don’t have to.” Spencer says, though his dick betrays his words as it violently twitches when you bring your mouth slightly towards it. 

“I know.” You whisper before taking the head into your mouth. You hear Spencer hiss above you as you let your tongue swerve over the head. You moan, taking him deeper into your mouth, hand covering what you couldn’t reach. You hear a strangled gasp above you and opt to look up. Nothing could’ve prepared you for that sight. Spencer’s head was thrown back, face and neck flushed and he was biting on his fist to keep from making too much noise. Spencer was always so complimentary of you during these times and you realized you never said what you thought,  that the man above you was beautiful. You still held your tongue though. It was preoccupied anyway. After sometime, Spencer’s hand cups the side of your face, moaning softly as he feels his member through your cheek. He gently pulled you off of him. 

“I need to be inside you.” He says. “Now.”  

You nod, crawling back up his body to straddle his lap. Spencer moves your hips so you’re right above him, allowing you to sink down on his length. The two of you groan at first contact, Spencer gives you a second to adjust, massive hands circling your waist as you rocked yourself back and forth in his lap. You already felt close despite the short amount of time. You look down at the man and he’s looking up at you with a glassy expression. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He moans, hands tightening on your waist. “You look so hot like this, I’m not going to last long.” 

“Me neither.” You say, Spencer takes that moment to drift his hand to your clit, thumb drawing small circles on the bundle of nerves. You moan out loud, moving your hips faster as Spencer thrusts his hips up to meet yours. 

“Spencer, fuck, I’m gonna--” you cut yourself off with a moan. Spencer is thrusting up into you faster now. 

“Cum for me, baby.” He says, and as if you were waiting for permission, you release moaning Spencer’s names and expletives. Spencer rides you through it, moving your hips on top of him. Before you know it, you’re on your back and Spencer is thrusting back into you hard. You practically scream out as he sets a fast pace chasing his own release. 

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, I’m gonna- fuck.” He says as you feel him release inside you. He thrusts shallowly inside you, riding out his orgasm before pulling out. You wince slightly, lifting your hips so he can slide the pillow under you, knowing the drill by now. Spencer runs, his fingers through your hair, you hum pushing your head into him, like a cat. 

“You ok?” He whispers. “Do you need anything?” 

You shake your head. “Will you come sleep with me?” You ask. 

Spencer smiles softly at you. “Of course, Y/N.” 

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

A month passes and cold February winter turns to soft March spring. The weeks that pass are fairly uneventful. You work and come home to an unfortunately empty house. You and Spencer talk about not as much as before and hardly about anything not baby or work related. You could admit that the last time you guys had sex, some lines got blurred and you both needed space from each other to remember that this was still platonic. At least, that’s how you felt and though you never voiced it, Spencer seemed to understand that.

The team was out on a case when you realized. You and Garcia had been on video call with the team when you heard Derek say.    

“Woah, Oz. You look like death warmed over.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.” 

“She’s not fine.” Garcia butts in. “She’s been throwing up all morning.” 

“L/N, if you’re sick--” Hotch starts. 

“I’m not sick! I feel completely fine, I think I just had some chinese that didn’t sit right. I’ll be fine, can we focus on the case?” You plead, Hotch nods. You see Spencer looking at the screen wide eyed but you don’t understand why. 

“What did you find?” Hotch asks. 

“Ok, Sebastian Henry’s financial records were a little hard to go through. Everything looked pretty normal. So I did a little--” You gag for a second but manage to keep it down. “A little digging and found a s-secret account he’s been m-making large donations to a church that, through more digging, doesn’t exist--” Garcia is already there with the bucket which you snatch and empty your lunch in immediately. 

“We think it’s mafia.” Garcia says, grimacing at the sound of your vomiting. You lift up to see the team giving you empathic looks and Spencer with a deep thinking expression. 

“Great, Garcia, look into that more. And Y/N, go home.” Hotch says. 

“What? Hotch, I’m fine!” 

“And I wasn’t asking.” He says, in that authoritative voice that made you know he meant business. 

“Fine.” you grumble as he ends the call. 

You’re on the way home when you get a call from Spencer. 

“Spencer, what’s up? Does Hotch need me to go back in?” 

“Oh, uh-no.” He says. “Listen, I know you said you’d tell me if something was up but Penelope saying you’d been sick all morning is making me overthink and well, did you take a test?” He asked. 

You look up at that. The two of you had been so busy with cases and work that the one thing you had been waiting for had completely slipped your mind. 

You were late.  

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​ @no-honey-no​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @chenlemure​ @sizzlingclamturtlesludge​ @tclaerh​ @k-k0129​ @takeyourleap-of-faith​ @trashyhipsterfangirl @haylaansmi​ @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead​ @waspyyy​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @octaviaxanadu​ @whxt-to-write​ @meowiemari​ @b99andsoc​ @boba-king-iroh​ @punkndisorderrly​ @richardrosejpeg​ @underratedmisfit​ @gredvb​ @criminalminds4days​ @fanfictionislifetho​ @justpeachykeeeen​ @kopfkinomind @moonchildkei @appleblossoms-posts​ @urguardiandevil​ @cm-imagines-07​ @ajeff855 @reidsconverse​ @isknowplaces @ashwarren32​

@cielo1984​ @rainsong01​ @dracoxmgg​ @m0rce1ddd​ @daviddobrikandyn @mcntsee​ @debiwolf-t​ @jellokangaroo​ @honeyboysteezy​ @sadassflatass​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @itsdars​

[selinakidreams]

Hello my love can i please request that you follow up on this lovely work of art you deposited in my ask box? Ty ty

oh oh oh what is this? the lovely carter (and val- in spirit) dropping in my inbox and requesting for me (???????) to write,,,,,,,,,,, I’m honored and will happily accept.

I am so so so so so sorry this took me so long to write,, it’s been sitting in my drafts for weeks,,,, I hope this makes up for it 🥺 I tweaked it a bit and I think it works,,, better now ? hopefully !!

warnings: this is smutty, SLIGHT voyerism,  dubcon turned to con, p♥︎rn with like.. a dash of plot ? maybe ?, fem! reader, thigh riding, uh riding dick right after, LIGHT MENTIONS of fwb! Osamu,, ah ha haa — NO INCEST.

Dinners with the Miyas: a weekly tradition since... before you could remember. Once a week, you and your family would gather at the Miya’s house for a homemade feast.

In hindsight, it was a really nice way for two life-long best friends, both of your guys’ moms, and their loved ones to get together and catch up after a busy week- but as a girl dealing with a pair of twins a year older than herself, it was absolute hell. 

At first, you used to despise having to get properly dressed just to eat dinner with your family friends. All that effort and for what? You see them all the time at school already, what’s so special about coming together for dinner once a week? And honestly, you were just going to get dirtied up anyways. Their beautiful blooming garden was calling your name and who were you to deny it?

You’d often find yourself frolicking among the tall blades of grass and colorful flowers, the wind swaying the plants to and fro. It was so calming to sit and watch the bees buzz around and pollinate. Needless to say, this is the boys’ cue to come into the picture; they always ruined your fun. The twins started growing into... boys, meaning they were an absolute nuisance.

It all started on a gloomy day; it had rained a few hours prior to the meetup and the Miya’s garden was- of course- muddy, but you just couldn’t resist. You tried to be as careful as you could, especially after the continuous complaints from your mother about how dirty you were when you showed up to the dinner table, but somebody decided to sabotage that.

A cold, wet slab of goop slapped you square in the face. With eyes growing wide, you turned to the culprit. An obnoxious laugh left Atsumu Miya’s mouth and in the same breath managed to call you ugly. You didn’t know what to do besides look down; you felt tears prick your lash line and you didn’t want that bully of a boy to see you cry. When you lifted your gaze to find the back door to run to, you paused upon seeing more mud flying through the air- only it wasn’t at you this time. It’s target was Atsumu- the launcher, Osamu. Finishing the embarrassing blow, the twin pointedly said the same phrase that was spat at you, before turning to you and apologizing for his idiot brother’s actions. Needless to say, after that Osamu Miya became your knight in shining armor.

As the years pass, they started to come over to your house more. When the boys were in your room, they (mainly the more wide-eyed, now blonde-haired, insatiably curious one) poked and prodded where their gazes didn’t belong. Osamu always tried his hardest to reil his brother in, attempting to put things back and apologizing every once in a while.it was painfully easy to realize that your perspective about him about him shifted; The politeness. The calm. The sensibility. He was kind and considerate. Your view on Osamu began to change into something of want, and oddly enough, it wasn’t pure.

You and osamu grew closer in ways you weren’t expecting; he was your first sexual everything. First kiss, first touch, first fuck- and with every intimate moment you both shared, the level of respect and maturity was extremely high. There was only one issue, whatever one miya wanted, the other wanted it just as bad.

Atsumu’s gaze on you lasted longer and longer, his tricks were getting more and more perverse- anything he could do to cause a little mischief and ripen the sexual tension he began to build between the two of you. But even the kiddie wrestling matches, flipping up your skirt, and lingering touches became boring; none of his little teases seemed to satisfy him anymore.

He was jealous. He had to be. Osamu never boasted, much less muttered a single word about what you two did when you were alone but Atsumu wasn’t dumb. He knew one of the Miya’s were getting their dick wet and it certainly wasn’t him. He was becoming impatient, but to you, he seemed really on edge- so much so, that one night you found yourself in one of the most compromising positions with the honey-haired idiot.

The three of you were chatting about the twins’ most recent volleyball match in your room, waiting for your moms’ wine induced giggles to subside and finnish the food already.

With lit up eyes, Atsumu was boasting about how they’d achieved their first quick when Osamu pardoned himself so he could use the restroom. 

“AWHH ‘SAMU, YOURE GONNA MISS THE BEST PART.” Tsumu loudly whined. 

“i was there, idiot. just keep telling her the story, i’ll be back.” he rolled his eyes before leaving the room.

He sucked his teeth before turning to you to continue the story only to find your eyes glued to find Osamu’s fleeting figure. You looked almost dazed out and Atsumu couldn’t believe it. Right in front of his eyes, you were eye-fucking his twin brother instead of listening to him.

Absolutely not.

Part of you should not be surprised. You looked away for just a few seconds- just enough for Atsumu to be annoyed that the attention wasn’t on him. Now you found yourself pinned to the floor, both wrists in one of his big hands, the other holding your hips down. You let out a squeal as you tried squirming out of his grasp.... that was until his knee firmly placed itself against your crotch in just the right place. You swear up and down that you didn’t mean to but there was a surprised gasp that shouldn’t have left your mouth. It almost sounded like... the thought stilled your body.

atsumu took note of this. 

In a low murmur, he leaned incredibly close and whispered, “how’s that pretty pussy of yers feelin right now?”

It sent a violent pink tinge to your cheeks and a bolt of arousal down your spine, your slick spreading against your underwear and the top of his jeanclad knee. A clench of your thighs meant this was going exactly where he wanted it to- his wait was over.

“ ‘m waiting for an answer, princess.” he tutted, his face only getting closer to yours while he applied more pressure against your throbbing vulva. 

It was never like this with ‘samu. This... was almost exciting for you. Something teetering the lines of flavorful and troublesome. The little voice in your head was screaming at you but the aching desire in your pussy was louder.

“Ah!- atsumu! what are you doing?” you whimper, trying to hide your face. There were so many thoughts racing through your mind, the logical part of you wanted to hear them all out but in the moment you were so overwhelmed. There needed to be control in such a situation; You tried to shift around to loosen his grip, accidentally applying pressure that was welcoming it the most, causing a breathy moan to escape your lips and your eyes to clamp shut.

“mmm well, you’re so focused on my brother, i thought i’d show you what you were missin if you started payin more attention to me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and you whine. This position was so compromising.

He trailed the hand that weighed down your waist up the curves of your side and took your jaw in his hand. He turned your face and when you peeked open your eyes, your gaze was met with his.

“I want you to cum on my thigh.”

Eyes wide, you tried shaking your head to no avail. His grip was so strong. “Atsumu no!! Osamu’s gonna get back and dinner is gonna be done soon and just- no!” You squeal.

“Y’still have time,” he said calmly, “ ‘samu’s probably checkin on dinner... so yeh better start... or else. Y’know what? I could just continue this though dinner. Slide my hand up ye’thigh under the table...” he started, letting go of your face and ghosting his hand down your body. The thought of his big hands palming over your clit while a finger is dipped into your warm pool flashed in your mind. You clenched, and boy, he felt it.

“Mmm, did my pretty girl think about my fingers- fingers that could reach places yours can’t?” He grinned as he watched you follow his hand with your eyes. “maybe you’d like it if i play with your clit under the table, hm? right next to my brother-” 

“no no! here. right now.” is all you could manage to get out. your head was swimming with all that could happen, it only got hazier when you felt the pressure on your cunt lessen- you wanted it back. “Ts-sumu.. i..” 

“i know, i know... but first i want you to cum on my thigh if you want my fingers that badly. I want you whiny and desperate, rubbing that pretty cunt all over me. Moaning my name.”

That’s how you found yourself stuffed in your small closet, you desk chair pulled away from its rightful place,

With his throbbing cock fighting against the cage of his pants and heavy pants leaving his lips, his hands could only find relief on your waist- assisting you in your delishious movements.

His noises weren’t the only ones to be heard, you were trying so hard to contain them but nothing is coming of it. Short little high pitched whines rung in Atsumu s ears- but what really got him were the whimpers of “fuck tsumi,” when the angle hit your clit just right and the squeeze of his biceps as you threw your head back. As soon as he experienced that, he needed you to cum right then and there. And not on his thigh.

“Nope- fuck, we’re switching it up,” he mumbled as he stopped your hips from grinding down. Your mind was a mess but all you could think about in your extremely aroused state was that you needed to cum.

“Atsumu wh-“ before you could even finish your question, he unzipped his pants and uncovered himself from his boxers, his angry cockhead slapping his torso and smearing pre-cum on his skin.

“On- now, Princess.”

There was no need for protests; he was expecting one to come out but instead he felt your soft hands lightly grip his bulging head and give a few strokes before all he heard in that cramped, dark closet was, “you’re so .. big.”

Eyes wide, a garbled moan left his mouth and next thing he knew, you were repositioning till his tip lined with your sopping entrance. He couldn’t take it, he thrusted upward as you sunk down. A shocked moan ripped out of both of you and in the moment of silence that followed afterwards, you could hear the floorboard creek.

Apparently Atsumu did too because his actions stopped and one of his hands left your hips to presumably cover your mouth. You presumed wrong.

Your closet door slid open to reveal a wide eyed Osamu palming himself.

[wolfpants]

fuck it all friday

Actually, you know what. Here's an extract from the very first long fic I finished and published, Forever Live and Die. It's a canon divergence Wolfstar reluctantly raising Harry AU. It'll probably be the last multi-chapter I write set in the HP/magical world, to be honest!

Forever Live and Die, 18 chapters (84k words) Rated E/18+

--

James puts a small box down on the table in front of Sirius and pushes at it with the tips of nervous fingers, nudging it closer.

When Sirius picks it up and opens it - the hinges are a little stiff, and he has to give it a tug - he stares, then looks up at his friend.

“Er,” he says, mockingly agog. “Merlin, Prongs. I had no idea you felt this way. Have you warned Moony? We should probably go out for dinner first. Or is that what this is?”

James picks up a coaster and flings it at him. He’s sweating - the dark hair around his temples is curling, close to frizzy, and his glasses keep sliding down the bridge of his nose; he’s pushing them up way more than he usually does. “It was my grandmother’s,” he says. “Mum gave it to me over Christmas.”

“Well, I didn’t really peg you as a jewellery man myself, Prongs, but—”

“—Padfoot,” James moans. “It’s for Lily.”

See the thing is, Sirius knows what it is. But he can’t stop the barrage of bad humour spilling out of his mouth like water bursting free and violent from a broken dam. It’s all he can do to quell the suddenly very sick feeling he has swirling at the pit of his stomach and the racing of his heart. He grabs his pint with shaking fingers, ignoring the way that it dribbles over the edge of his glass and onto his t-shirt, soaking the ‘B’ in Buzzcocks. He wipes at it and fumblingly shoves the box back across the table toward James.

He doesn’t know much about engagement rings, but he can see that this one is clearly beautiful. Any idiot could. It’s a simple band of gold, set with a pear-shaped green stone (an emerald?) and two smaller diamonds. It’s unique, old, and it looks expensive.

“It looks like her eyes,” James says, without any hint of irony, and Sirius almost wants to laugh right in his face.

Or cry.

Right now, he really feels like it could go either way.

They’re sitting in one of their favourite pubs in Marylebone, a stone’s throw from the Bloomsbury flat. Remus is still in bed, nursing a stinking hangover from James’s birthday party the night before, and Sirius and James, far less sensibly, are down here on the hair of the dog.

James ploughs on, breathless and excited, “I’m taking her to St Ives for the weekend, she thinks we’re going to my mum and dad’s,” he says. “I’m going to ask her, then.”

“Are you fucking mental, mate?” Sirius blurts.

James blinks and sits back, sliding the box off of the table and shoving it back into his pocket, his cheeks scarlet. “Of course not,” he says after a beat. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“A long time?! We just left school!” Sirius flaps a hand about wildly, gesturing at James. “You only just turned nineteen!”

“We left school almost a year ago, Padfoot,” James says, and this time there’s a stiff, hard edge to his voice, “I’m only going to say this to you once because I really don’t want to fall out with you. But--bloody grow up, would you? Look around us. At what’s happening. The attacks. The deaths. The Order. Where we’re being sent. Our friends going off to face Merlin knows what every other week, putting their lives on the line - us, Dee, Marls, Mary, Remus? Do you really think I just want to sit there and not marry her? Do you think I want to wait for that?” His eyes are shining, and he lifts his glasses up to the top of his head, roughly wiping a wrist against each eye before he lets his glasses fall back down again.

Sirius is quiet for a while, and then he huffs, “I am grown up.” He folds his arms and stares at the table with a frown, swallowing against the lump in his throat, his cheeks flaming red.

[pine-lark]

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

-

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

-

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

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[desertno3]

Violet – Chapter Two (3/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place.

Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Two: 1787 words

Prologue // Chapter One

A/N: Welp, sorry I said this would be up soon and then immediately went and took like two weeks to finalise it. Anyway, here’s the Sean and Violet interaction we’ve all been waiting for! Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @ysmmsy​ @prettyinpayne​ @the-a-word-2214​ Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series!

“Can you help me colour this in, mum?”

You have to repress a tired sigh at your daughter’s request.

“Sorry, Vi, I can’t right now,” You tell her, scrolling through real estate listings on your phone. You’d been looking ever since the incident because there was no way in hell you were going to go back to your old place after what happened. “Maybe later, yeah?”

You hear her huff and when you look up, she’s already walking out of the room, crayons and colouring book in hand - no doubt on the hunt for someone else to ask.

You shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Violet had made herself right at home in the Wallace household, quickly warming up to everyone even though she’d just met them. It was just the kind of child she was. If she could, she would go right up to total strangers and talk to them but you’d made sure to nip that habit in the bud early, sitting her down and telling her why it was dangerous to do so. She was the most gregarious and self-assured little girl you’d ever known - and you were sure her Wallace genes played a strong part in making that happen.

~

Sean groans in frustration, leaning against the kitchen counter as he does so. Elliot had just called to say that the latest lead Sean had him following went nowhere and now Sean was wracking his brain to figure out who else could have been behind the intrusion of your home.

The intruder in question had been of no help, naturally. Sean had done what he could to pry information out of him but the man said nothing - and Sean wasn’t sure if it was out of loyalty or because he’d lost so much blood he couldn’t think straight. In the end, Sean didn’t even have to finish him off because the gunshot you’d inflicted did the job well enough. He decided he wouldn’t tell you that, though. You were shaken enough as it was.

“Are you okay?”

Sean’s jolted out of his thoughts by the little voice and when he looks up, Violet’s hoisting herself up onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter. She then looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer to her question.

“I am,” Sean replies, still watching her curiously.

Besides the brief introduction where you’d told Violet he was your friend, he hadn’t yet properly interacted with her. For one, he had been too preoccupied with trying to track certain people down but the other reason was that he didn’t know how you would react to it if he did. You’d clearly been avoiding bringing up the topic of Violet’s parentage and he’d let you avoid it - for now. 

“Will you colour in with me?” She asks, taking him out of his reverie yet again. “My mum’s busy.”

Sean blinks at her, processing the request. He wonders if he should say no - after all, he has so much to do - but she looks so hopeful that he doesn’t want to. When he eventually caves and says yes, he’s taken aback by the fondness he feels at the way she beams and hops off the stool, coming over to him to take his hand and lead him to the living room where she’d already had her colouring book all set up.

~

You’re more than surprised when you come downstairs half an hour later and see the two of them sitting at the coffee table, colouring in together.

“What colour do you think should go here?” Sean asks her, pointing to a blank spot on the page.

“Green! No, wait!” Violet’s expression scrunches up as she surveys all the colours in front of them. “Yeah, green.”

You watch as Sean chuckles, complying with her wishes as he reaches for the green crayon. He starts colouring in the area while Violet happily observes, the section she was working on long forgotten as she peers intently at the way Sean was doing it.

You feel a slight pang in your heart as you watch them, knowing you had kept them from having moments like this. It’s a fleeting feeling, however, because Violet looks up and spots you.

“Mummy!”

“Hi, love,” You greet her, walking over to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I see you’ve wrangled Sean into colouring with you.”

“We’re colouring in this page right now,” Violet says excitedly, showing it to you. “But we also did the one with the horses. You know, the one me and you didn’t get to finish?”

She flips through the book and shows you the page in question.

“That’s great, darling,” You tell her, fondly smoothing her hair down. “Now, why don’t you go outside and play for a bit, hm? Let Sean get back to his work.”

She nods, taking the crayon from him and putting them all back in the box.

“Thanks for colouring with me, Sean,” She smiles before turning and scampering off excitedly to the backyard.

“Don’t forget your hat!” You call out to her but she’d already disappeared around the corner, leaving a silence to settle between you and Sean in the living room.

“She’s a chatty one,” He comments, breaking the silence as he gets up off the floor. “Would fit right in with my dad’s side of the family.”

You just hum in acknowledgement, avoiding his knowing gaze. You’d always thought the same thing but you didn’t want to tell him that, not yet wanting to confirm or deny anything to do with Violet being a Wallace even though there really was no point in doing so - you knew Sean knew, even if you hadn’t yet spoken about it.

“Y/n,” He says, waiting until you actually looked at him. “Did you know you were pregnant when you broke up with me?”

There it was.

You’d spent the last few days waiting for him to bring it up - surprised he even let it stay unaddressed for this long - and yet you find yourself still completely unprepared to have this conversation.

You shake your head. “I only found out about a month after.”

Not that it matters. What matters was that you could have told him at any point during your pregnancy or at any point after Violet was born, but you never did. You scan Sean’s face desperately, hating that you can’t read him as well as you used to be able to. 

“I’m sorry, Sean,” You say and you think you’ve never meant an apology more in your life. “I thought it would be safer to keep her away. Even after I found out I… I didn’t think coming back to you pregnant was a good idea.”

“Still, I deserved to know about her, y/n. She deserves to know about me.”

You drop your gaze, ashamed. “I know. God, I know, okay? But I was scared.”

You know that doesn’t excuse anything but you had to be honest. He had to at least know why you did what you did at the time.

“Scared of what? Me?”

“Of the people you were working with!” You clarify. “I was scared that if they knew about her they might-”

“They would never even get close,” He cuts you off, his tone developing a menacing edge to it at the mere thought of anyone laying a hand on Violet. “I wouldn’t have fucking let them.”

There's a heavy silence in the air and you watch him sigh in frustration, trying to work through his temper. Your own heart hammers against your chest at finally being forced to face the consequences of your decisions.

“I would’ve kept you both safe,” He eventually says, his voice slightly calmer. “If you had just let me, I would’ve done it.”

“I know,” You admit quietly, remorsefully. “I know you would have. But at the time... Sean, your way of keeping us safe wasn’t my way of keeping us safe. You know that."

He purses his lips, remembering all the times in the past you two would argue because he would always get himself into more violent situations than you thought was necessary. The way you saw it, he was unnecessarily digging his own grave with every altercation he found himself in whereas he’d grown up being taught that violence was a necessary measure to keep certain people at bay, to remind them who was in charge, and to prevent them from threatening the people he cared about - namely you, at the time.

“I could never get my head around why you would go through all that trouble, Sean. But I get it now.”

His eyes bore into yours, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in what you just said.

“What changed?”

You open your mouth to reply when you jump at the sound of banging at the window. Both of you look to see Violet on the other side of it holding up a football, clearly wanting you to play outside with her. You give her a nod, holding up a finger to let her know you’ll be out in a minute.

“I had her,” You answer as you both watch Violet grin and run down to the other side of the backyard. “I’d literally do anything to keep her safe, anything just to make sure she’s okay.”

Sean looks out the window for a long time, to the point where you think he’s still stewing in his anger, but then he lets out a little amused-sounding huff.

“What?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Now you know why I used to get into all those fights for you.”

Your expression softens at that but he doesn't see it. He's deliberately not looking at you, immediately feeling like he’s made himself a bit too vulnerable after saying that. He glances at Violet, kicking the ball around all on her lonesome, and it reminds him of the reason you’d returned to his life in the first place. 

“I have to make some calls,” He says, shifting back into business mode. “I have to find another lead.”

“I really am sorry, Sean,” You tell him, ignoring his change of topic. You needed to make sure he knew that.

He looks at you and sighs. “I know. And I get why you did it. As much as I fucking hate it, y/n… I do understand.”

It’s more than you could have ever asked from him. You nod and one last look of acknowledgement passes between you two before he disappears to his office and you head out to be with Violet, feeling lighter than you have felt in a while now that everything was finally out in the open.

[dailydestieldose]

Don’t think about Dean visiting Cas’ room after Cas had died, about him cradling the jar of ashes as he looks around. Don’t think about Dean going through Cas’ stuff, his old trench coats, his old books, everything neat on the bookcase. Except for one book, which was on Cas’ bedside table. It was open and spine down, which bitterweetly reminded Dean of all the times he had to remind Cas not to do that to important lore books. It’s spine was wrecked and it’s pages and edges were so worn that Dean knew it must have been a book so treasured that Cas went back to it again and again. Intrigued, Dean sat on the edge of Cas’ bed and gingerly picked it up. It was, “We Are The Ants,” by Shaun David Hutchinson, and as Dean picked it up his eyes were immediately drawn to a quote highlighted in marker: “I saw the world from the stars' point of view, and it looked unbearably lonely.” Dean’s felt his pulse creep into his throat and immediately knew how much of an intrusion this must be to Cas, to be going through such personal things. Or how much of an intrusion it WOULD HAVE been if Cas was alive. But Cas was dead. The interpretation of this quote, of why it mattered so much to Cas, didn’t matter anymore. Dean thought for a minute, trying to quell the rising, almost rabid, need to KNOW. To get closure. He decided that it didn’t matter, he was the one mourning, not Cas. He numbly flipped back to the first page and began reading, noticing all the highlighted parts as he went, all meaningful quotes that felt like Cas himself was reading them aloud to Dean:

How ugly we must look to them, spilling light into every dark corner to push back the shadows, blinding ourselves to the true beauty of emptiness.

I hate Jesse for leaving me behind. If he asked, I would have walked into the air with him.

Jesse believed stories were the collective memories of the world, recorded in books so that each of us could know who we were before we became who we are.

We're not words, Henry, we're people. Words are how others define us, but we can define ourselves any way we choose.

Dreams are hopeful because they exist as pure possibility.

Why me?” “Because I can be myself around you, even if I don’t know who I am yet.”

I could write my name across the sky, and it would be in invisible ink.

There's an amazing world out there for you to discover, Henry Denton, but you have to be willing to discover yourself first.

That's the problem with memories: you can visit them, but you can't live in them.

Dean didn’t realize that he was crying until the first few teardrops suddenly hit the page, smudging the ink and startling him. Dean came back into his body to find himself hunched over the book, fists clenched around where he was holding it, breathing harsh and heavy. For some reason, realizing he was crying made him cry harder and now sobs ripped through him, so violently that his chest hurt and acid crept up his throat. He grappled to get ahold of himself like a car over an ice patch, and he eventually calmed just enough to keep reading:

Maybe love doesn’t require falling after all. Maybe it only requires that you choose to be in it. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen with us or how much time we had left, but I wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

This was how Diego saw me. I was Henry Denton and I was Space Boy. I was broken and I was beautiful. I was nothing and I was everything. I didn't matter to the universe, but I mattered to him.

Having choices is the problem. Everything would be easier if someone told me what to do: push the button, stop seeing Marcus, get over Jesse. The problem with choices is that I usually make the wrong ones

Memories are often amalgams of truth and fiction, sewn together in our heads by our subconscious to support our personal beliefs about the world

A star's light still shines even if there's no one to see it, but without someone to remember Jesse, his light will disappear.

Sometimes I think gravity may be death in disguise. Other times I think gravity is love, which is why love's only demand is that we fall.

The last quote had Dean biting his lip and folding in on himself, curling over the book as if it was Cas’ body, as if he could keep him safe that way. He couldn’t make himself stop crying now and realized that he never really made himself stop before. Cas didn’t have a clock in his room because he always knew the exact time, but it felt like Dean had been there for hours, just reading, clinging to what felt like the last scrap of Cas he had left. Dean neared the end of the book with growing panic because this was CAS, it looked like his most prized possession. These were his favorite quotes. This book helped make Cas CAS. Dean didn’t want to lose this last bit of him by finishing the book. His joy from earlier from finding the book was completely lost in his utter desperation to keep the feeling of being close to Cas, but still he read on, until there was nothing left. At the end of the book, Cas had written his own poem, carefully lettered on stationary paper and tucked between the last page and the author’s note. Dean was very careful to wipe his face and and hands before handling it, wary of getting any tears on it. With shaking hands he began to read it.

“This may not last. Branches shed their leaves to prepare for sleep. Snow banks melt in the sun eventually. Blossoms make their cameo in window boxes. Even birds are only here on holiday. But this moment with you. Being loved by you. This is the season I hope never ends.”

It had a time stamp of a few years ago, before Cas found his loyalty to Jack and left. Dean tried to think about what they were doing on this date, but he specifically remembered that they didn’t have a case that entire week and they didn’t really do anything. It suddenly dawned on Dean that Cas is talking about when Dean took him along on a fishing trop. It was genuinely an amazing day. There was still snow sprinkled along the grass tips in the meadow fields, casting sunshine onto them, and they walked along the forest path to a small Brooke to cast their lines, quietly chatting as they breathed in the crisp air, warm sunlight weaving through the trees to stream over them. Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Cas parted the clouds to make it a bit warmer for Dean, despite Dean turning Cas down when he offered his trench coat to Dean. Why didn’t Dean just take the damn coat? Dean would give anything to be back with Cas at that stream, to feel that peace with Cas again. And suddenly, the jar of ashes felt clunky and misplaced in his hands. It felt poetically cruel to keep Cas in yet another cage for the rest of his...well, death. But that’s okay. He knew exactly where to put them. Cas was right, he thought, the snow banks will be melted by now, but my love is the season that never ends.