#i miss people and hanging out for nothing but leisure and sleeping late without having responsibilities constantly drilling down on my brain

[buckleydiazmp4]

i am so. SO tired

[quindolyn]

Weeks Without || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 7,427

A/N: Happy birthday @littlest-dark-age ! While this was not initially meant for you I loved it so much that I thought you might too and I poured a lot of effort into it, enough to show you how much I love you I hope. I think I like this piece! It felt good to write and I hope you all like it too.

Warnings: too long, that's probably the biggest one, angst, fluff, and smut. Slight dom/sub dynamics with dom Rem and Siri, sub Jamesie and maybe switch reader? Potentially just sub, I don't know I feel like any reader x James interaction I write, unless explicitly stated otherwise is at least a little bit dom reader because I project. Oral (female receiving), fingering, hand job, palming, little bit of humiliation. I tried not to include Daddy kink because I know not everyone's into it and I'm pretty sure if any of my stuff can have a daddy kink it does so I tried switching it up. Insecure reader

Masterlist

2k follower celebration

As you approached the end of your time at Hogwarts there was a certain fear that bubbled up inside of you. Like the rest of your peers you had worries about what waited for you outside of Hogwarts, where you were going to live, what you were going to do? How you were going to pay your bills and if the person, or in your case people, you were leaving with were going to stay by your side.

You were sure that everyone with a partner shared the same worries you did, that being if your relationship was going to survive outside of the sheltered walls inside which it formed. For you your worries were multiplied threefold. You didn’t just have one person you were worried would tire and leave you, you had three boys.

They were all undeniably beautiful, there were days you couldn’t fathom how people as beautiful as them had chosen someone like you.

Despite their constant praise, the way they gazed at you during class and in the halls, the hugs and kisses they gave you any chance they had you still weren’t convinced that you were enough for them.

You tried not to show it, tried not to show the boys you loved so dearly how your insecurities were eating away at you. You were eating less, sleeping less, and even though you spent all your time bent over a book in the library, eyes racing over the pages your studies were suffering too. The time you spent in the library wasn’t so much to actually study so much as it was to avoid your boys, even being around them had grown painful. Worried that every kiss they gave you might be getting you closer and closer to the last had you nauseous.

You knew it was ridiculous but you couldn’t help the feeling from gnawing away at you.

Your boys weren’t stupid, though James often acted as though he was, they noticed you pulling back from them. On the rare occasions they were able to get you with them for more than the duration of dinner it was like you were stopping yourself from enjoying being around them.

You’d catch yourself smiling too wide and drawback. To them it was like clouds blocking out the sun, though they’d swear they would’ve preferred the absence of the sun over yours.

There were only so many ways you could avoid them and when it came time for sleep there was no escaping the giant canopy bed in James’ headboy dorm that could easily fit all four of you. It was probably the easiest way for you to be around them, because after a long day of classes and extraneous studying you were out the minute your head hit the pillow. There was no time for them to prod you about your day, ask you where you’d been during your shared free period.

You speedily made your way through your evening routine before the rest of them got to the room and were climbing under the covers as they finally made their entrance.

Tonight you hadn’t been as lucky, as you barreled into the cozy dormitory, decorated in a frankly nauseating amount of scarlet and gold. You entered to find your three boyfriends were already waiting for you sprawled throughout the room.

James sat on the sofa to the left of the king bed, long legs sprawled out in front of him, they were so long that his feet stuck off the end. With his hands clasped behind his head acting as a pillow, he would’ve been the picture of leisure had it not been for the crease between his brows while he conversed with the two other boys in the room.

Sirius sat curled up in Remus’ lap, nestled together on the loveseat; there didn’t appear to be an inch of space between the two of them. Usually when they were found like this it was as though neither of them had a care in the world, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else that went on around them. This time was different, Sirius held one of Remus’ hands in his, fiddling with it while he gazed off into the air, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

It wasn’t tension clouding the room so much as it was worry. Worry about you, worry about your relationship, worry about what they might’ve said or done to hurt you.

As you stepped into the room all of their eyes shot to your figure, ultimately finding your face as they tried to tell what sorts of secrets you were hiding in that pretty head of yours.

“Hi poppet,” Remus spoke promptly, knowing that allowing the silence to stretch on would only serve to worsen the situation.

“You guys are here early.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the furrow between James’ brows deepen at your response, you weren’t usually one to sidestep a greeting like that. Though in all fairness you hadn’t been acting much like your usual self lately.

“We’ve missed you puppy, feels like we never see you anymore,” It was Sirius who spoke, hands still fidgeting with Remus’ long fingers, finding the Marauders ring that he wore on his ring finger and sliding it up and down the appendage.

You answered with a noncommittal hum as you toed off your shoes, abandoning them by the door to the dorm before moving to the bed where you shrugged off the bag that had been weighing down on your shoulder all day.

Remus quietly eased Sirius off of his lap, helping him into James' open arms awaiting his arrival. Once the raven haired male was settled into the larger boy’s grasp, strong, muscled arms holding him close to his equally toned chest Remus made his way toward you where you sat, silently working on the buttons of your blouse.

“You want help with those, bunny?” Came the steady baritone of Remus’ voice as he stood a few feet before you, head cocked to the side while his hands were buried deep inside of his pockets.

“I’m fine Rem, I’ve got it,” The use of the nickname normally would’ve worked to lighten the worries that were swirling around in the boy’s head. This was counteracted by the despondency of your voice pulling each syllable downwards into mumbled murmur.

“I hate to say it but Siri’s right (Y/N), we don’t see you anymore and we’ve tried to ignore this weird behavior, thinking that it would pass but it hasn’t,” The lycan spoke as he made his way to the bed, sitting down on the mattress next to you but sure to leave a decent amount of space between the two of you, not wanting to spook you more than you had seemed to be.

You ignored his words, instead focusing your attention on unzipping your skirt, loosening the waistband allowed you to take a deep breath you’d been yearning for all day.

“Bunny, we just want to know what’s wrong, talk to us please.”

Lifting your eyes, lids heavy from the stress of the day, at Remus’ desperate plea you found the looming figures of your other two boys hovering over his shoulder. Fingers intertwined as both stormy grey irises and hazel ones gazed at you.

“Nothing’s the matter Remus, I’m just a little stressed out is all. It's nothing any of you have done.”

Technically that was true, it was nothing your boys had done directly that had caused you to pull back from them but still, a lie by omission.

“Bullshit.”

Each of your heads whipped to find the voice who had spoken, your eyes landing on Sirius’ form you found his sullen figure glowering, tucked into James’ side.

“Sirius come on,” Remus murmured, urging the boy to keep his mouth shut.

“No its such fucking bullshit, she’s been acting like this for weeks and I’m sick and fucking tired of her acting like a toddler.” The boy swivelled, redirecting his attention back towards you, “Stop it (Y/N)! Stop lying to us, stop pulling away, just fucking talk to us for fuck’s sake because I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

With each word the boy’s voice raised an octave and you watched James’ hold on Sirius’ shoulder tighten as though he could contain the flow of words that tumbled from his mouth.

It was all too much, the insecure thoughts that bounced around your head, the aches that had settled in your limbs from pushing yourself too hard on too little sleep, the distinct throbbing that resided behind your temples nearly every day by this time.

Then add on Sirius’ harsh words it was all too much.

“I can’t do this,” You mumbled, haphazardly redoing the buttons of the blouse that had been hanging off your shoulders before pulling your bag, abandoned just minutes ago, back onto your shoulder.

“(Y/N) where are you going?” The frustration in Remus’ voice was evident, he’d been so understanding and gentle the past few weeks but even he had his limits and he was not about to watch you walk away from them.

“My dorm.”

“Since when do you sleep in your dorm?” It was the first time you’d heard James’ voice since you entered the lavish dorm room. The hurt laced in each word was unmistakable, guilt at being the one to hurt the boy you loved so much served to twist the knife that was already planted firmly between your ribs.

For the first time in weeks you finally voiced the overwhelming thought that had been plaguing you, the thought that had caused you to pull away from them in the first place, “You’re better off without me.”

It seemed as though everything in the castle had stopped to listen on your conversation, you were almost certain you could make out the little figure of a portrait peeking its head into the gargantuan frame that hung on the furthest wall of the dormitory should Dumbledore need to call James out in the middle of the night to perform some headboy duty.

The room was so quiet as the boys, your boys, soaked in your words that you swore you could hear Slughorn all the way down in the dungeons, munching on the lavish pineapple that had been dropped off at his office a few hours earlier and that he had saved until now to indulge himself in.

“What do you mean poppet?” The crease between Remus’ brows matched the confusion so evident in his voice.

“I mean…” You trailed off as you felt tears well in your eyes, weighing down on your bottom lashes as they threatened to spill over. You couldn’t find it within yourself to meet any of their gazes, instead keeping your head downturned, eyes trained on your sock clad feet and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

Before you could force yourself to look up you felt a strong, steady hand slip under your mandible, from the rough calloused nature of said hand you knew without a doubt that it belonged to James.

He slowly turned your visage upwards to meet his, heart crumbling as he took in your waterlogged optics, red and puffy, sunken in my large dark shadows that appeared to be frighteningly close to bruises.

“Why are you thinking that you’re not good enough for us angel?” He spoke, his voice cracking as he took in your heart wrenching appearance.

“Jamie,” You sobbed before throwing yourself into his chest, the barriers you’d erected between you and the rest of them crumbling as you saw the helpless look in James’ beautiful hazel eyes.

The fears and doubts that had haunted you for weeks were still there but you couldn’t find it within yourself anymore to listen to them when they told you to keep your space, to hide from the people you loved the most.

You clung to James’ broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes so that you could throw your arms around his neck. You felt the weight of your satchel once again slip from your shoulder accompanied by a soft thud against the hardwood floor as one of James’ arms wrapped around your waist, the other slipping under your bum, landing on your upper thighs to support your weight as he carried you over to the canopied bed.

James kept you safely in his lap, sitting down with Sirius and Remus on either side of the two of you.

Even if any of them wanted to pry you off of James there was no way you were leaving the warm solace of his hold, the solidity of his thighs underneath you, the strong planes of his back sprawled out underneath your palms.

There was a comfort in all of it that you hadn’t realized you missed so much, you felt a pang in your chest as you contemplated the boy’s reaction to your insecurities. Would they confirm them, and these past weeks, which could’ve been spent in the exact position you found yourself in now, soaking up the comfort they brought you, had been wasted?

Though you were perfectly content to sit there, snuggled into James’ chest the boys wanted answers, and though they tried their best this was the most like yourself you’d been in forever and they were desperate for answers to their questions before you slipped away from them again.

“I’m sorry I yelled Princess I’ve just been so worried about you,” Sirius murmured, his hand gently sliding up your thigh to rest under the hem of the plaid fabric.

All you could offer the boy was a nod as you turned your visage to meet his, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “It’s okay Siri-”

“No it's not,” He refuted empathically, his hand moving from your thigh to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across your cheek bone in soothing circles, “If anyone else spoke to you like that I’d hex them into oblivion. I’m sorry.”

He leaned down, tilting your face ever so slightly upwards to meet your lips. As usual his were unnaturally and enviously red, tasting of smoke and the strawberry candy he stole from the pockets of James’ robes.

His lips brushed gently against yours, it was the first kiss the two of you had shared in weeks that wasn’t a quick peck as you passed in the halls or as you rushed away from them after breakfast. Understandably, he was in no mood to rush it.

You melted into his touch as his grip on your cheek tightened, keeping you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss, kissing with a sort of passion foregin to the both of you. Different from what you were used to, lust filled kisses as he ground your hips into his. This was a sort of apology from the both of you, sorry to have shied away from this for so long and he sorry for blowing up at you.

He kept his lips melded to yours for as long as possible before finally pulling away to suck in a deep breath, replenishing his depleted lungs.

“Gotta tell us what’s going on in that pretty head of yours baby,” Came Remus’s voice from the other side of Jamesie’s broad shoulders, lulling your head off of the one it rested on to meet his sympathetic eyes.

You felt a familiar panic bubble up once again in your throat at the thought of voicing all your insecurities, scenario after scenario running through your head going through all the different ways the boys could react to your theories.

Suddenly you felt like an idiot and felt your cheeks burn as blood rushed to them, resisting the urge to bury your face back in James’ shoulder you swallowed, “W-What if,” You stopped for a moment, sniffing and going to wipe your nose on the back of your hand you were stopped when Remus’ large hand wrapped around your wrist.

Slender fingers slipped a silky hanky into your palm for you to wipe your nose on and you smiled as you glimpsed the initials “RJL” stitched sloppily into it. This was no doubt done by James when he was laid up with a Quidditch injury and had taken up stitching, amongst other things.

“Thanks Rem,” You murmured as you swiped the soft cloth underneath your nose before slipping it back into his hand, you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassed to be handing him back the used, and admittedly grosser material, but ever the gentleman he paid it no mind.

“Now what was it that you were saying (Y/N)?”

You braced yourself, clenching the covers into your fists as you forced the words that had been swirling around in your head out, coming to terms with that there was no more delaying the inevitable.

“Are we gonna stay together once we graduate?”

It was conflicting having finally spoken those words that had tormented you for countless days, hours upon hours of pain and anxiety causing you unspeakable turmoil. It felt as though it was all lifted from your shoulders, you’d spoken the words, put them out there and they were no longer your pain to bear alone.

At the same time, they didn’t just exist in your head anymore. They were real and the people who mattered most had just heard them, their impending response only served to make you grip the sheets even tighter.

“Where’s this coming from angel?” James asked, confusion tightening up his voice.

“I don’t know,” You whimpered, “I’ve just been thinking and you all are so fucking beautiful and perfect, how am I supposed to keep up with you when we leave here. I already don’t deserve any of you. It's already bad enough in here with all the girls and guys fawning over all of you but how am I supposed to fair when you have the entire world at your fingertips?”

As they soaked in the meaning behind your words James’ arms tightened around you to the point of bordering on discomfort but it was so reassuring to be held that close, to know that that was the reaction your words had on them that you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain, only to hold him even tighter.

“Darling,” Sirius’ sympathetic tone was enough to shatter your already fragile facade and before you knew it there were fat teardrops sliding along down your soft cheeks.

You could feel your tears dampening the material of James’ old t-shirt but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I-I don’t wanna lose you guys,” You sobbed, letting all the pent up emotion from the past weeks flow out, coming off of you in waves as the knot that had been residing in your chest slowly began to unravel. Each tender caress of your back and stroke of your hair assisted in its efforts until all that was left was your heart. Which, considering that it had been tangled up in barbed wire, thorns piercing your heart with every beat, was in surprisingly good condition, still intact and pumping along.

“You’re not gonna lose us (Y/N/N), ever,” James promised into your ear, his chapped lips brushing across the shell of your ear.

“You can’t promise that,” You protested, words muffled as you spoke into his shoulder, “There might be someone else who you guys love more than me, who’s prettier and smarter and can keep up with you all. M not good enough for any of you and what if one day you realize that?”

“Don’t talk like that princess,” Sirius’ grip was steely on your forearm as he used it to get your attention, “I’ve spent my entire life being told I wasn’t good enough and the truth is that we aren’t good enough for you. I know what it feels like to feel like the people in your life deserve better than you but there is no doing better than you, no one else on this earth holds a candle to you my beautiful girl.”

As you took in each of Sirius’ words letting them heal the puncture wounds on your heart from being wrapped in thorny vines Remus spoke, “We love you more than anything puppy, the day you walked into our lives was the best day of my life and I can’t think of a world where any of us live without you. Especially outside of Hogwarts, things are gonna be just as scary for us as they are for you poppet and I know I don’t wanna do it without you.”

It felt good to hear that the worries you’d been obsessing over were really all in your head, that they really did love you as much as you loved them, but there was still one boy you needed to hear the words from before you could completely relax.

“I’m going to marry one day (Y/N/N), I’m going to marry all of you and we’re going to be Misters and Missus Potter. Remmy’s right, I don’t wanna ever wake up and not have you right there next to me. Mum and Dad say I have to wait till we’re settled and we have jobs and a place to live before I can propose but it's gonna happen bunny, I just hope you don’t realize we’re a pile of daft idiots before then.”

As a lopsided goofy smile quirked his lips upward you felt a similar force mimicking the movement on your own, “Even if you all are daft idiots, m’never gonna find anyone like you guys. My pretty boys.”

“You hear that mates? We’re her pretty boys, if I didn’t know better I’d say (L/N) has a little crush on all of us.”

“Oh sod off Siri,” You let out a watery giggle, gently nudging the boy’s arm as you looked up at him through water logged lashes.

“Is that true puppy? You like us?” Even though he was usually the most mature of your boys Remus’ mischievous side never failed to shine when he called on it.

“No,” You refuted, “I’m actually rather fond of Severus now that you mention it.”

You’d pulled away from Jamesie’s chest to be able to look at each of them but with your words you were harshly tugged back into him.

“Not funny,” The sullen boy murmured into your ear, “Ours, not Snivellus’.”

“Shhh s’okay bubba I know you love me,” You soothed him, tangling your fingers in his hair like you knew he liked.

“I’m so sorry bunny we ever made you feel like Snape loved you more, I never want you to feel like we don’t love you.” He squeezed you, “How can we make it up to you?”

“I just got in my own head is all,” You explained, “I was telling the truth earlier when I said that it was nothing any of you had done, just shouldn’t spend all that time alone with my thoughts.”

Sirius’ elegant hand started rubbing up and down your back as you all sat there, soaking in each other’s presence after so many weeks of turmoil. Each time his hand slipped lower and lower down your back till he was groping your ass with the palm of his hand.

“Do you believe us poppet?” Remus asked, taking note of Sirius’ hand on your bum, “You believe that we’ll love you till the day we die?”

You nodded your head, face still buried into James’ neck, “I know you’re telling the truth Remmy, it's probably just going to take a little while for my brain to start really believing it, I spent so long worrying about it that mt stupid brain is’nt just gonna start listening to me.”

Remus nodded as he brushed a piece of hair from your face, it was the answer he’d been expecting.

“How about we show you how much we love you puppy?” Sirius asked from your other side, hand sliding from your ass to your thigh before slipping underneath the hem of your skirt.

“What do you mean Siri?” You cocked your head to the side in a rather obvious display of your confusion.

Wordlessly he stood up and slipped you from James’ lap moving to the foot of the bed where he laid you out on your back. Your blouse hung open off your shoulders revealing your lace clad breasts to the man as his eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve and line of your body.

Starting on the cushiony pillows of your lips, red and raw from gnawing away at them all the way down to the soft lines of your thighs he took his time appreciating every millimeter of you before dragging his eyes back up to the hem of your skirt.

One graceful hand slid to the waistband, already loosened he bent down to press a kiss where the material had rubbed your skin raw over the course of the day.

As your panty clad center was revealed to him Sirius swiftly dropped to his knees, his eyes quickly darting to Remus over your left shoulder for permission for what he was about to. It was granted to him with a soft nod.

“What are you doing Siri?” You pondered as he slid your legs apart from each other, sitting up on his knees as he began pressing sloppy kisses onto the insides of your thighs.

Instead of getting an answer Remus spoke, his words directed to the boy between your legs as though his words would have no consequence on you, “You can mark her Sirius, let everyone know that she’s our pretty girl.”

His words sent a zap of excitement up your back as you remembered how good it felt to be their pretty girl. Something you hadn’t felt like in weeks.

You bucked your hips as Sirius’ lips ghosted over your pussy still hidden to him behind the lacy material that matched your bra, “I’m showing you how much I love you puppy,'' He responded to your earlier posed question, “Now come on, lift your hips f’me,'' He murmured as he slipped the panties along with your school shirt from your hips revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze. Sirius carefully pulled the garments from your legs before dropping them to the floor next to where he knelt.

Inching closer and closer to your cunt as he worked his way up your thighs leaving a trail of kisses in his wake he made sure to sink his teeth into the flesh at certain points, just hard enough that if he sucked he was sure to leave behind mouse shaped bruises. The thought of being marked by him caused a ripple of arousal to go straight to your core.

Once he was satisfied with the marks he’d left on your thighs the raven haired boy moved quickly, nosing your folds apart to breathe in your scent, even with the minimal stimulation you’d had you were already soaking, though Sirius often seemed to do that to you.

“Fuck,” You swore as his nose bumped your clit and you reached out to grab onto the bedding but found James’ hand instead, wrapping your hand around his middle and index finger as you scrunched your eyes closed.

“Pretty baby,” James cooed as he leaned down to smear a kiss across your brow, furrowed from pleasure, “Siri making you feel good?”

You nodded fervently as the aforementioned boy licked a broad stripe from your quivering, sopping entrance to your clit, lifting up the hood to suck gently as James often sucked on your tits. You smiled thinking that you might fall asleep that way tonight because you knew nothing made the boy quite as happy as both falling asleep and waking up with your tit in his mouth.

“Use your words puppy,” Remus’ voice sounded from your otherside and you whipped your head to face him wondering when he’d moved over there, “Wanna hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Yes Remmy, feels so so good,” Your words hitched as Sirius slipped a finger inside of you, continuing to suck on your clit as he did so.

As you spoke your eyes wandered downwards and you were met with a familiar bulge having formed in Remus’ trousers. The werewolf’s gaze followed yours and smiled as his eyes landed on his crotch.

Your head quickly pivoted to the otherside finding a matching bulge in James’ trousers. A pang of guilt hit your heart as you hadn’t even thought about either of their pleasure, being too overwhelmed by your own as Sirius had thrown your legs over his shoulders allowing him to pull himself closer to your dripping, aching cunt.

Somehow your hand had found its way to Remus’ cock as you mindlessly palmed at his bulge as though that and that alone would work to help it escape from its zippered cage and into your awaiting hand.

“Can I have your cock Rem, please?” You begged looking up at him with wide eyes, fingers fumbling as they finally stumbled across the zipper.

“Course you can bunny,such a good girl asking me for m’cock so nicely, let me get it out for you.”

Remus expertly lifted his hips as he unzipped his zipper, sliding his trousers and boxers down to his mid thigh allowing his cock to spring free.

As his cock was revealed to you Sirius added a second finger into your pussy, curling it at just the right spot to hit the sensitive spot inside of you each and every time he thrusted his fingers. As he pushed the second finger inside of you you felt the distinct chill of metal, you gasped at the unique, though certainly not unwelcome sensation.

Glancing downwards you saw that the hand belonging to the arm that was pinning your hips to the mattress did not bear the signature Marauders ring they all wore proudly on their ring finger. Having his marauders ring thrusted in and out of you made you clench around his long, slender fingers, the extra stretch provided by the jewelry was impossibly hot.

The combination of seeing Remus’ cock, standing proud and tall as his tip, bright red, leaked pre cum onto his shaft and the extra stretch of not only another finger inside of you, but a ring, had you squeezing your legs around Sirius’ head.

Flicking your gaze down towards him you were met with Sirius’ eyes already on you and he circled your clit with his tongue. Much to your chagrin he pulled his head away from your cunt, smoothing his palm up your stomach as he smiled at you with the most sincere look in his eyes, “You’re beautiful like this puppy, so perfect all laid out for us, making a mess all over my face.”

Looking at the bottom of his face you saw the mess he was talking about, his mouth and chin were glistening with your slick. Before you could reply Sirius was diving back into your pussy, scooping his arms under your thighs to lift your hips so that he had even more through access to your pretty cunt.

Any breath you would’ve used to respond was pulled from you as Sirius’ tongue began working magic on your cunt, tracing it painfully slowly before abruptly speeding up.

Remembering the gift that had been bestowed upon you you grappled for Remus’ cock, quickly wrapping your hand around it and beginning to pump up and down, loving nothing more than the way he throbbed beneath your touch.

“That’s a good girl, so good at playing with m’cock, there’s a good girl,”

“Like this?” Your wide eyes stared up at Remus as you twisted your wrist pulling a strangled gasp from him.

“Yes baby, just like that.”

You were mesmerized by his cock as you watched the head disappear before reappearing from your fist as you worked up and down his shaft, your hand working along the natural curve of his prick.

A whiny moan from your other side broke your concentration as you turned your head to investigate it, never halting your movements up and down Remus’ member.

Your eyes fell upon James’ whimpering form, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes flickered back and forth between your hand on Remus’ cock, Sirius’ head buried between your legs and your face, pleasure plastered over your every feature. God you looked beautiful when you were getting eaten out.

Finally you settled on the raging boner visible through James’ trousers, it looked almost painful the way it was straining against the restrictive fabric.

“Aww Jamesie m’sorry, been neglecting your cock,” You mewled, the hand not on Remus’ cock moving to palm James through his trousers.

“That’s okay bunny, m’good just watching you, fuck you’re gorgeous.”

You threw your head back as Sirius pinched at your clit, his tongue and fingers having swapped places as he circled your tight entrance which was clenching around nothing, but who could blame you?

You were in ecstasy.

There was a familiar fire burning in the pit of your belly, one that had begun simmering the second Sirius had looked you up and down once having laid you down on the bed.

A small whimper escaped you as you felt James’ strong calloused hand grope your clothed breast over the mesh and wire cage you kept them concealed in because fuck did that feel good.

You turned your visage to view Remus, he was painfully hard now and you made sure to keep groping James on the other side of you as you quickened your speed on Remus’ cock.

“Merlin puppy that feels so good, our good puppy. I love you so much my love, so much,” His praise came as he tangled his hands in your hair, using his hold on your to direct your face up to view his. He looked angelic, beads of sweat forming on his hairline with clouded over hazel eyes and the most beautiful lips you’d ever seen that released haggard groans and breaths.

A whine tumbled from your lips at the praise, Remus was always the gentler out of your doms, James barely counting as most of the time he was on his knees with you ready to obey his next command, but his praise seemed to be affecting you more than you were used to. Not that you were complaining though, on the contrary, you were living for it as it spurred you closer and closer to orgasm.

You squeezed Remus’ cock as Sirius nipped at your clit, the sensation walking the delicate line between pleasure and pain but jarring nonetheless. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t send a rush of arousal to the fire now beginning to roar in your belly.

The feeling of James and Remus’ cocks in your hands was oddly erotic and as they worked to ground you as Sirius pulled you further and further into bliss the holdon them, feeling every vein and ridge and twitch turned you on more and more and had you bucking into Sirius’ mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” You screamed as Sirius sped up his ministrations on your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips as he mercilessly pistoned his fingers in and out of you.

“M gonna cum too,” James admitted, sucking in a tight breath as he wriggled his hips, resisting the urge to buck up as you lackadaisically palmed at his still clothed crotch, never having the time to properly undress.

The thought of cumming with James pushed you right to the edge to the point where you could barely form words, but knowing you’d need permission before you were allowed to cum you sought out the one person who could grant you such. “Can I cum?” You pleaded, turning your head to face Remus, “Please Rem let me cum please!”

“You gonna cum too Jamesie?” The lycan’s eyes were trained on James’ face, eyes wide as he watched your hand slip up and down Remus’ curved length.

Upon receiving his answer, a yes delivered in rushed nods, Remus turned back to you, “Yes baby, go ahead and cum for us, make a mess all over Siri’s face. Gonna look so pretty when you cum undone, such a pretty girl.”

That final praise tipped you over the edge, sending you into a bliss filled oblivion as warmth seeped to every nook and cranny in your body. You felt your legs tense and spasm as you squeezed your thighs around Sirius’ head, bucking into his face to get as much stimulation as possible because there was no way for you to get enough.

You distantly registered a string of curses leaving your lips as euphoria washed through your body, taking with it any little doubts and worries that hadn’t parted with the boy’s earlier kind words.

As your orgasm passed and you blinked your eyes open you found a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in months. All the wounds from being wrapped up in thorns so long seemed to have healed on your heart, to see you tested it out, letting a singular thought about the boys drift through your consciousness. You were immediately reminded of Sirius’ head still in between your legs, lapping up the slick that had made a mess all over the insides of your thighs, James’ softening prick under one palm and Remus’ still rock hard one in the other.

All those worries you had let occupy your thoughts for months seemed stupid and trivial as you remembered just how much your boys loved you.

“Well would you look at that,” You were pulled from your thoughts by Remus’ voice, following his gaze to James who sat resting on his hands, panting, with an unmistakable stain fresh on the front of his trousers.

“Did Prongs cum in his pants?” Sirius simpered, also huffing, though for completely different reasons as he lifted his head from your cunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The seemingly normal sight sent a shiver up your spine but you quickly shook the thought away.

You nodded your head as your eyes caught on the stain on the front of his trousers but no one seemed to notice.

James’ cheeks were burning bright red as Remus came up behind him, brushing the hair out of his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of James’ head.

Remus helped the submissive boy to his feet, all the while murmuring quiet praises you couldn’t hear from where you laid until one was spoken loudly enough for your ears, “Come on bubba lets get those boxers off,” The sandy haired boy prompted, “Show (Y/N/N) how pretty you think she is, she made you cum in your pants, I don’t think any of us have ever done that before have we?”

James shook his head as Remus quickly undid the zipper on the other boy’s trousers. The taller boy kneeled to help him step out of his trousers and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down.

It was an undeniably hot sight, James’ half hard cock resting against his toned thigh, both covered in his cum from his untimely release.

Your eyes were pulled up to Remus as he let out an appreciative hum as he inspected the ruined boxers in his hand.

He slipped onto the bed next to you, “Come on puppy sit up f’me,” Opening his arm for you to settle into his side.

“And you Jamesie,” He prompted, patting his thigh for the boy to sit on. As James settled onto the hard plane of muscle Remus’ still throbbing erection poked into his back, the leaking head smearing precum along the boy’s toned back.

Sirius settled in behind all three of you, peering over your shoulder at the soiled boxers, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other on Remus’. You melted under his touch and snuggled ever closer into Remus’ side, turning your head to press a kiss to the back of Sirius’ hand.

“Y’made Jamesie cum without even taking him out of his pants puppy, can you believe that? That’s how fucking sexy we all think you are, made him cum without even directly touching his cock princess.”

“S’like you’ve got super powers,” James interjected, his eyes trained on you, “Your hand angel, its magic.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, whether or not you were intentional you doubted but it made them all the more cute.

“It’s so pretty,” You murmured, running your index finger through the sticky mess before bringing it up to your lips, sucking it completely clean as you couldn’t get enough of James’ perfect taste. “You taste really good Jamesie.”

The boy at the center of your current conversation turned, hiding his head in the crook of Remus’ neck mumbling a “thank you” into the delicate scarred skin.

“Don’t need to be shy,” Sirius crooned, out of character with the gentleness in his tone, as he combed his fingers through James’ dark tresses, “It’s fucking unbelievable how hot it is.”

You smiled at the delicate interaction between the two boys as James looked up at Sirius with wide eyes and puckered his lips, silently demanding a kiss. It was a demand Sirius was all too ready to obey as he dipped down, sealing James’ lips with his.

As he pulled away he caught you staring at him with want etched all over your face, “Don’t worry puppy,” He simpered, moving to cup your face in his hand, “You can get a kissie too.”

His tongue brushed against the seal of your slips as he deepened the kiss before abruptly pulling away, not wanting to get himself any more wound up than he already was.

“My beautiful girl,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he smiled down at you.

“You two need to get cleaned up,” Remus spoke as you and Sirius gazed at each other, “You, especially Jamesie, made quite the mess of yourself.”

James whined at the subtle comment but aside from that made no other objection.

You on the other hand had other, more pressing worries.

“But what about you, Remmy? You’re still hard and Siri hasn’t even been touched yet, need to get you two off,” Your words came out frantic at the prospect of leaving two of the men you loved so much unsatisfied but Remus was quick to quell your worries with a soothing kiss to your hairline.

“Don’t worry poppet, Siri and I will take care of each other while Jamesie runs a bath for the two of you, yeah? We’ll be right in to join you, have a feeling neither of us are going to last all that long.”

You were reluctant to agree after how amazing you’d been made to feel by your boys since you’d arrived at the dorm and the thought of leaving two of them to take care of each other was frustrating, your frustration did not outweigh the pleasure a warm bubble bath promised and in the end you crumbled.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” Remus extolled as James slipped from his lap and stood before you, arms open and ready to engulf your significantly smaller figure.

You all but leapt into his embrace, loving the way his strong arms could so easily support you.

“Come on angel,” He cooed down at you, “S’bath time.”

Remus and Sirius waited until the two of you had entered the adjoining bathroom before leaping to their feet, their hands quickly finding the other’s chest desperate to pull another close.

James kicked the door closed behind him but not with enough force to fully close the door, the room beyond it was still visible through a small crack.

Through the crack in the door you were able to see Remus and Sirius and even over the roar of the running water James had started that was slowly filling the ginormous bathtub that sat at the center of the room you could make out the words that fell from their lips.

“You’re gorgeous mon chéri,” Sirius muttered against Remus’ shoulder as he tugged on Remus’ cock, the two boys had made quick time and Sirius’ aching member was already in Remus’ palm.

“Just as beautiful as both of our babies.”

“Impossible.”

“Shut up and cum for Godric’s sake,” The smaller man whined, “I want a bath.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @dracofknmalfoy @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @advictedtohim @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @wholebigboxofyikes @priii @miraclesoflove @thatvenusbabe @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @4kweasley @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @lilytheally @mo-jean @lolooo22 @adrianscumslut @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @siriusmydeer @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @thatdummymarie @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs

[flurrys-creativity]

Geborgenheit

Geborgenheit (n.) - to feel completely safe, like nothing could ever harm you; security, comfort trust, satisfaction, acceptance and love from others

Pairing: Choi San (Ateez) x GN!Reader; Genre: Slice of life, Friends to lovers, Festival AU, Romance, Fluff; Rating: sfw, PG-15; Warnings: a large crowd, mentions of stress, getting bumped into several times, getting drenched with water on accident, San saying “f*ck” once and a kiss; Wordcount: 1.462; Event: Beauty in bloom hosted by @k-vanity ; Prompts: Softest Touch, accidentally winning a wet t-shirt contest during a late spring festival, the spring festival is close, do you wanna go?

Summary: San only wanted to go on a cute little date with you. Thinking of the festival as the perfect opportunity. Until he accidentally joined a wet t-shirt contest.

A/N: Dear @sanjoongie​ I truly hope you like this idea! This is like the thing I was talking about way back... the idea you gave me!

San laid on his back in your bed, his head hanging from the edge while he held a magazine in his hands. He leisurely skipped through the pages, humming a soft melody under his breath.

You had your own head placed on his stomach, scrolling through social media, paying the contents half of your attention. Your eyes closed more often than they stayed open. The soft breathing of San as well as the constant up and down of his chest slowly lulled you into sleep.

After a week of constant work and basically no breaks, a week with missed hours of sleep and missed meals because you simply hadn’t the time to stop, San had to force you to take it a little easier on your days off. Usually he liked to do something, his so-called adventures. Even though those adventures were a walk through the park or a picnic or playing some games. San had the ability to turn the most mundane activities into a small adventure. He usually never stayed still for too long, always having the need to do something but with your exhausted state even San made an effort to keep everything chill on this late afternoon. 

At least for a moment.

You stopped at a post on your phone screen, reading over it several times as your attention drifted away after every two words. “Huh, it’s already time for the spring festival again?”

“It’s been spring for a while now.”

“I know, I know. I just thought it already happened without me noticing.” You turned on your side and looked at San - or at least the chin you could see with his position. “Isn’t it rather late for the festival?”

“They complained that it was too cold earlier in spring and that no visitors would come. That’s why they postponed it until now.”

“Huh, things that just fly by.”

San chuckled and closed the magazine, straining his neck to look up at you. “You had a lot to do. No wonder you didn’t hear anything in the first place.”

You smiled softly. “True.” 

“You wanna go?” San’s eyes sparkled immediately at the prospect of having another small adventure. 

You glanced back at your phone screen, seeing the colourful post still lit up. You hadn’t been to a festival for quite some time now and going with your best friend didn’t sound too bad.

“Actually, yeah. I’d love to.”

San grinned brightly, his eyes turning into crescent moons as he pushed himself up, ignoring how you complained about losing your comfy pillow. “Let’s go!” He immediately rolled himself out of the bed and grabbed his dark blue cardigan, which always looked too big on him. 

Soon enough both of you arrived at the festival grounds, watching the crowd pushing along the stalls from the entrance.

“That’s a lot of people.”

“You still wanna go?” San glanced at you with concern layering his voice. The ride up to the festival was already a lot of fun but he truly wanted to spend more time with you.

You turned to San and mustered a smile. “We’re already here! I won’t go before I actually visit the festival.”

Immediately San’s grin returned to his lips. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers, pulling you along towards the crowd. 

You stopped counting the times someone bumped into you after your first steps. Instead you focused your attention on San’s hand, thankful he held yours so you wouldn’t lose each other. 

The first stalls were simple food stalls, showcasing all kinds of snacks. The air got filled with all the different scents, mixing into each other until they created a heavy cloud that pushed down on you.

Further down the road were stalls selling homemade products that resembled spring in one way or another. You saw a stall selling soaps, another selling jewellery and yet another selling little tea sets. People stood in front of the stalls, yelling their orders to the overworked sellers. You felt bad for a moment and wondered if the money they made out of this was actually worth all this stress.

“Do you want to go anywhere specific or just wander around?” San turned half around to you, speaking louder so you would hear him over the chatter of the crowd.

You shrugged with your shoulders. “Just wander around?”

San simply nodded and shortly squeezed your hand before he continued to navigate through the people. 

You walked the faire up and down once, halting somewhere in the middle with remotely fewer people. You stood with your back against a wall, talking to San animatedly about the things you were able to see. 

Meanwhile San tried to shield you as much as possible from the crowd, standing right in front of you and having both hands placed against the wall next to your body. He leaned close to your body, trying to catch every word you were saying. His brows furrowed from concentration, making him look way too serious.

That’s when the stage at the end of the somewhat open field lit up, showcasing a bunch of musical equipment. A person stepped onto the stage and turned up some music, blasting it over the speakers that got installed all over the festival.

You gave up on talking with San, instead motioning to him that the two of you should get into the crowd and dance around, enjoying the warm weather and being out at the festival together.

Both of you danced around. You moved your bodies to the rhythm while always having at least one finger linked with the other.

San even joked around and made some ridiculous moves, making you double over in laughter. You lost your balance and stumbled into someone next to you. Before you even knew it, you felt something cold trickling down your spine. Your eyes widened in shock and you immediately froze on the spot.

“Wet t-shirt contest!” Someone yelled loudly over the crowd.

You saw people running and pushing, saw water splash through the air, heard women squealing when the water drenched their clothes. Your head almost mechanically moved downwards, your eyes focused on your wet shirt. The wet spots spread out. Soon enough your whole shirt would be wet.

“Fuck”, San cursed underneath his breath and took off his cardigan, wrapping it immediately around your drenched body. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly, wincing when you felt your cold and wet shirt clinging to your skin. “Not how I planned this evening to be.”

Before San was even able to answer you, someone dunked two bottles of water over his head.

You stared at San with wide eyes and an open mouth. Though your initial shock quickly made way for a bunch of giggles erupting from your throat.

San glared at you playfully, pushing his drenched hair back out of his face. He stemmed his hands into his hips and sighed deeply. He then pursed his lips and looked down at his body.

You followed his gaze, your giggles stopping when you saw his sculpted abs showing through his white tee. You knew San was hot. You weren’t blind. But seeing him like this made your mind spiral into the depth of your imagination you had locked away for the safety of your friendship.

“Like what you see?” San smirked and raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for a response.

“I guess you won the contest.”

San laughed loudly, throwing his head back for a moment. He quickly looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So what’s the price for winning?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Can I choose something?”

You wanted to question him but your body moved faster than your mind so you already nodded as an answer.

San stepped closer to you and cupped your face with the softest touch, leaning down slowly to give you time. He closely observed your reactions, noting down the slightest changes in your expression.

You clutched his cardigan with one hand while your other grabbed his wet shirt, automatically pulling him closer until he kissed you. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you simply melted into the kiss. With San holding you and his cardigan draped around your shoulders you felt complete and safe despite the ruckus around you. As if you were in your own little bubble and nothing except for San was inside of it with you.

Even after you had to break the kiss to take in some air you stayed close, leaning your foreheads against each other. 

“Now I really feel like a winner”, San mumbled and pecked your lips again, grinning almost shyly as he wrapped his arms around your body and swayed you around to the music.

You smiled softly and followed his lead. “Same.”

© all rights reserved

[cinnaminyoons]

( PAGE 394. )

ミ☆ “how long have you been doing this?” “eleven pages.”

⤷ PAIRING knj x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 2.1k 

⤷ TAGS like one f-bomb, implications of things that go on behind closed doors, implied top reader

⤷ REQUESTED

Can you do Hoseok, Namjoon, Suga, or Jin with a tall tough looking boyfriend who's a real sweetheart. And their bf is especially sweet around them. Maybe they're meeting BTS for the first time and bonus if he has tattoos and piercings. I missed you so much, man. I'm glad you're back. ILY💜

there’s a reason behind every tattoo, they all like to say. each dark line has a memory swirling in its ink, a feeling they want to remember again and again, each time their fingers brush against it. whether it be a name, a picture painted on a living canvas, or a collection of lines meaning nothing to viewers but everything to the person wearing them, the idea of tattoos prolonging usually fleeting feelings is normally accepted as a reason to get one.

but not you.

a lot of yours are there just because they look cool.

some people give you weird looks for that reason, saying things like why would you spend so much money on meaningless things? or what if you don’t like them when you’re older? 

but they don’t know what you know. they don’t know that your partner really fucking loves those ‘meaningless’ tattoos, and that whenever he traces them absently over your chest late at night you finally understand what it means when people say that someone can be your home.

“joon,” you shout through the bathroom door, voice deeper with sleep, “someone’s knocking at the door.”

“answer it, please,” he calls, and it echoes a little in the bathroom. hot steam puffs out from the gap under the door.

you groan and fall back onto the ruffled bedsheets, your arm giving out on you. you pull a pillow down under your head and hug it loosely, your cheek resting against it. “were you expecting someone?”

“no. stop pouting, i know you’re pouting. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“a minute,” you mock under your breath as you drag yourself up, untangling your legs from the sheets. you’re not wearing anything, so you pick up a pair of sweatpants from the clothes strewn over the floor and step into them to be somewhat decent. they hang low on your hips and you wander leisurely through the hallway of your flat to the front door.

you open it. resting your open palm against the door frame, you arch an eyebrow at the figure on the other side. his hand is half-raised as if to hammer the wood again, this time off its hinges. “can i help you?”

jeongguk’s aware his mouth his open, either in shock or light fear or awe. probably a mixture of all three. his eyes drift downwards without his permission and his throat is suddenly dry. he’s got muscles like i wish i had. he stares at the black ink on your left arm, which props you up against the door frame. and tattoos. good god.

you snap your fingers in front of his face. “hey, you good?”

he tears his eyes up and forces himself to not stray away from your face, which he now notes is decorated sparingly with a few piercings, which does nothing to take away from your overall attractiveness—quite the opposite, in fact. “h-hi, um, i’m jeongguk.” he steps aside and gestures. “oh, and this is jimin.”

a moment of recognition flashes across your face, replacing the minor irk that once rested there. you push off the door frame and open the door wider. “you’re here for namjoon, right? come in—he’s told me a lot about all of you.”

they step into the flat and you close the door behind them, moving past them to get into the kitchen (which is more your forte than namjoon’s, but he helps sometimes). you pour yourself a cup of coffee and remind yourself to thank namjoon for waking up early just to get the caffeine ready for the two of you.

you watch the pair awkwardly shuffle into your home, having taken their shoes off respectfully. obviously, they didn’t expect someone else to be here.

you lean against the kitchen counter, the stone cool against your side. “joon’s in the shower at the moment. you’re welcome to make yourselves at home until he’s out.”

the shorter of the pair repeats, “joon?” he pauses and shares a questioning look with jeongguk. “are you friends?”

you glance over at him and note that despite being smaller, he’s got jeongguk hiding behind him. you hide your smile with the rim of your cup. “you could say that.” you turn your head to watch where you put down your cup. 

for the first time, the pair notice, one more shyly than the other, that you’ve got dark marks littering your neck. jeongguk nudges jimin urgently and jimin waves him off, having already seen them. the messy hair, the marks, the near-nakedness—they should have realised it before. it isn’t like you’re trying to hide it from them, either.

jimin tentatively steps forward closer to you and is abruptly aware that you tower over him, even half-slouched casually. “so, you’re hyung’s boyfriend?” he asks with a tilted head.

“yeah, that’s me.” you give him a little smile. “i guess he hasn’t talked about me, then. oh—i’m ln yn, by the way.”

“it’s nice to meet you,” he says, a little curiously, “how long have you been dating?”

you shrug. “a couple years, give or take. known each other for longer.”

“wow,” breathes jeongguk from his place on the end of the sofa, his eyes wide. he recoils slightly at your attention, glancing away briefly as if he didn’t mean to say that. he frowns. “why didn’t he tell us? is this where he always runs off to after practice?”

jimin turns around to face him so that you can’t see his expression—though, from the words that follow, you’re pretty sure you can guess. “i mean, i would hide my boyfriend too if he looked like this.” he shrugs a shoulder, and when he turns back to you, his aspect is considerably warmer. he sticks out a hand and says, as ways of introduction, “park jimin—since somebody brought up my name like a second thought.”

you smile and take his hand, giving it a firm shake. both of you realise how yours envelops his. “good to finally put a name to a face. i’m sorry that this had to be your first impression of me.”

“oh, i assure you, it’s really okay.”

jeongguk elbows jimin aside and takes his place, looking up at you. he smiles and wonders how you and namjoon even met in the first place—it looks like the two of you run in wildly different circles. “hi. jeon jeongguk. what’s it like dating namjoon-hyung?”

you go to reply, but a flash of an earthy-green shirt catches your eye from over jeongguk’s shoulder. you glance back at jeongguk with an easy grin. “you can ask him yourself.”

namjoon meanders towards the little gathering, a confused and vaguely-panicked expression on his face. “hey. what are you doing here? i thought today was our day off.”

“well, yes, but no. we were gonna go out shopping,” jimin says helpfully.

namjoon looks between the two and raises his eyebrow. he says flatly, “shopping?”

“yeah! tae wanted to go take pictures, too, and begged us all to go with him.”

“but i’m tired. i don’t want to walk all day.”

you snake an arm around his waist and pull him close, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “you’re just annoyed you can’t sit properly.”

he pulls away sharply and half-heartedly glares at your teasing grin. but, for all his annoyance, you see the slightest of dimples in his cheek. “not so loud,” he whispers back accusingly.

you raise your free hand in surrender and dart towards him to quickly peck him on the cheek, holding his face so that he can’t escape. the tips of his ears are red and he bats you away rapidly. “gah,” he scrunches his nose, “just go put on some clothes!”

he hears you laugh as you disappear down the hallway towards your bedroom. he turns towards jimin and jeongguk, his awkwardness rising once more. he crosses his arms and tries to play nonchalant. “wipe that smirk off your face, jimin. i know what you’re going to say.”

“i wasn’t going to say anything,” jimin replies with a growing smile.

“when were you going to tell us you had a boyfriend, hyung?” jeongguk interrupts. he sounds... almost hurt, with undertones of that lingering shock.

namjoon sighs and leans back against the counter. “when i felt like it was a good time.”

“and when would that be?”

namjoon opens his mouth, then shuts it. he would never have told them if they hadn’t found out—which he sort of assumed would be the case. he didn’t shove it down, he isn’t ashamed, but he likes having you alone to himself. it had been fun to have you as his little secret, and he’s rather surprised it took so long for it to be uncovered. and it could have been in a much more embarrassing way.

jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip regretfully and turns to jimin. “um, we should probably tell him, right?”

“what?” namjoon moves his arms to rest his hands on the edge of the counter. at this angle, his watch digs into his wrist. he’s not quite sure why he’s wearing one, and he doesn’t remember putting it on. “tell me what?”

jimin scratches the back of his neck and says apologetically, “that the rest of us are on our way here.” it’s phrased more like a question, rising in pitch at the end.

namjoon’s brow furrows. “then why are you two here?”

“to make sure you’re awake and dressed.”

then, there’s a rapid, excited knocking at the door.

oh, wonderful.

—

“i think you scared them a little,” namjoon comments, turning a page in his novel. his legs are tucked under him, cross-legged, on the sofa.

“did i? i didn’t mean to.” you stretch out slightly farther beside him and close your eyes. you’ve positioned yourself so that the late-afternoon sun’s rays are just out of your eyes, but still warm the rest of you. 

“mm. jin-hyung likes that you can cook, though.”

you shift, gently moving namjoon’s arms up so that you can rest your head on his thigh. absently, he plays with your hair. “and the rest of them?”

“yoongi-hyung likes your style and your bike. hoseok-hyung is a bit terrified of you and so is taehyung, but taehyung’s more ‘he-could-pick-me-up-and-throw-me-across-the-room’-scared while hyung’s ‘he-could-pick-me-up-and-maybe-kill-me’-scared.” namjoon laughs a little. “don’t worry. if i’m dating you, you’re good in their books.”

you hum and nod. “you think your family will act the same when they realise i’m not just a friend?”

“they’ve known you since we were kids—in their eyes, you’ll just be a taller, broader version of that boy who liked shiny rocks,” he reassures, but you know him well enough to hear the slightest hint of a tease in his voice. 

“hey, you collected shiny rocks with me,” you say, tonguing the piercing through your lower lip as a habit, “i hope you know that i still have the one you gave me.”

he moves his book to look at you disbelievingly.

you grin up at him. “yeah. you know, the dark purple one that has silvery bands through it when the light catches it just right? i've still got it.” your hands move animatedly as you spoke, as if you're holding or shaping the rock in the air.

he watches you for a moment with a small, dimpled smile. “how anybody can think you’re scary is utterly beyond me.”

you fake offence to that, lifting your hand to your heart. “objection, i'm very scary. i bet i could bench you.”

“no, you couldn’t.”

“objection again.” you roll off his lap to land neatly on the floor in a plank position. “get on my back, i’ll show you.”

“that’s not benching me.”

“yeah, but it’s close enough.” you add, “and you can keep reading this way.”

namjoon sighs fondly and marks his place in the book by placing his thumb between its pages, parallel to its spine. he carefully sits on your back, pulling his legs in. you don’t seem bothered by his weight and ask, “what page are you on?”

“i’m on...” he opens his novel. “three-ninety-four.”

“okay. i’m going to do as many push-ups as i can,” you say cheerfully, “cool?”

“cool,” namjoon replies. his long limbs are a little graceless, but the novelty of you doing—doing whatever it is you’re doing, with him on top, makes his lips curve into a smile. when you begin, the odd up-down movements of his body makes it difficult to keep quiet, and it takes everything in him not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

he holds his book open with both hands and picks up where he left off. this time, he has a smile on his lips, and it refuses to leave.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Old Haunt Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

References are made to the birthday R&S, so please read that first!

[ PROLOGUE ] 

MC: Is this the place?

Gavin: According to the map, it should be.

Gavin and I have stopped outside an old house, carrying a cake.

The reason we’re here today has to do with the phone call Gavin received a few days ago...

~ Memory begins ~

Gavin: You are?

Ever since receiving the call from a foreign number, Gavin has been frowning slightly, as though recalling something.

After hanging up, he looks deep in thought. 

MC: Gavin, has something happened? 

Looking at his expression, I can’t help but ask.

Gavin: It’s nothing. It was a call from my grandmother’s neighbour. They are about to pave the pathway, so they informed me that they’d have to use the yard.

MC: Your grandmother’s house? You’ve never mentioned it before.

Gavin: My grandmother lived on the outskirts of the city, and has a house with a courtyard. I used to go there occasionally during vacations. After my grandmother passed away, I’ve haven’t gone back. 

MC: I'm sorry, I didn’t know...

Gavin: It’s okay. Although her condition wasn’t great, she had a serene passing. She had quite a long life. I don't have a deep impression of the old house. Only after getting the call did I remember the large patch of dandelions there. It looks very beautiful in Summer.

Hearing his words, my heart stirs.

Over the past few days, I’ve been anxious about where to celebrate Gavin’s birthday, and haven’t been satisfied with all sorts of places. 

Perhaps the old house isn’t a bad choice.

MC: Since we have this chance, want to go back and have a look? I’m even thinking of celebrating your birthday there. How does that sound?

After thinking for a while, Gavin nods.

Gavin: Also good. Let’s go back and have a look.

~ Memory ends ~

Therefore, on Gavin’s birthday, we returned to this old house that Gavin can’t remember much of.

The house no one has lived in for a long time stands quietly. The yard has not been tended, and only wild weeds and dandelions grow.

Near the windows, the wind chime, with its tubes missing, is also silent. 

It seems to have been waiting for an opportunity to tell of the past that has been forgotten with time.

~

[ ACTUAL DATE ] 

The noon sun spreads across the green leaves of the dandelions, and a few clouds occasionally drift across the blue sky. 

The old house in front of me seems to sleep quietly in amber. Since a particular day, it has become unchanged. 

Only wild grass in the yard grows, hinting that over a decade has gone by.

MC: Do you still remember the last time you were here? 

Gavin shakes his head, pushing the iron gate open.

Gavin: The dandelions look almost the same as I remember though. Come to think of it, my grandmother used to directly pluck dandelion leaves from the yard to include in her dishes. 

MC: Were they delicious?

Gavin: They were really bitter. I didn’t particularly like them. However, my grandmother always said that good medicine tastes bitter, so she gave me even more. 

I laugh while looking at Gavin’s tiny pout. 

I can’t help but wonder if the Gavin of back then was just as he is now, eating vegetables he doesn’t really fancy.

Suddenly, I realise something important. It’s something that I haven’t confirmed even till now.

MC: Gavin, did you bring the keys to this place? 

He shakes his head and calmly admits it.

Gavin: I don’t have the keys to this house. 

MC: Are you...

Seeing me cast worried glances at the door, which does not look as sturdy as it once used to be, he taps on my forehead lightly.

Gavin: What are you thinking? Here. 

Holding onto my wrist, Gavin brings me to the side of the old house. 

He shifts some vases to the side, then squats down and knocks on the wall, as though searching for something. 

After a while, the corners of his lips lift, and he laughs lightly. 

Gavin: Looks like I didn’t remember wrongly. It’s here. 

As he speaks, he pulls out a loose brick and retrieves a slightly rusty key from the hole in the wall. 

MC: A spare key? 

Gavin: Mm. Back then, my grandfather would go fishing and forget to bring his keys. He simply left a set here. When I was young, I would sneak out with my grandfather without my grandmother knowing. We’d rely on this key to get back in.

With a flick of his thumb, the key gets tossed into the air. After circling a few rounds, it falls back into his hand. 

Gavin: Let’s go. 

~

The door creaks as it opens, like an off-key welcome. 

I follow behind Gavin, slowly entering this house, which has not been disturbed by anyone for far too long.

The dim light and the air, which is several degrees lower than outside the house, causes me to draw nearer to Gavin. 

Only after my eyes gradually acclimatise to the light in the room do I have a proper look at this old house, which is covered in dust. 

The house is empty, apart from a sofa and a coffee table which are covered with a thick layer of dust, and a few cabinets which are inconvenient to move. 

I’m guessing the other items have been moved away a long time ago. 

People used to place fresh flowers and tea cups here, and spend a leisurely late afternoon with family. 

On the low cabinet next to the stairs, there would have been pictures, telling visitors about the warmth in this household. 

It’s a pity that after many years of remaining idle, this place has become completely desolate.

Even the traces of small furniture and decorative items have been buried in dust. 

Gavin: I’m back.

Gavin says this in a soft voice. I’m unsure if he is saying it to the old house, or to himself. 

Gavin stretches out his hand to brush the wall of the corridor lightly, then silently twists away the dust on his fingertips. 

Gavin: It doesn’t seem very appropriate to celebrate a birthday here. Want to go somewhere else?

Gavin lowers his eyes, his tone normal, as though he’s talking about something trivial. 

MC: Mm... we really can’t do it in such a place.

Making a decision, I stride towards the windows. With a single movement, I draw the heavy curtains and push the window open. 

Sunlight rushes into the house, and a cool breeze carries in the scent of grass. The dust and quiet in the house are stirred up by the flow of air. 

MC: Which is why we’re going to do a thorough house cleaning!

I say this loudly, flashing a grin at Gavin. 

He probably didn’t expect that I’d do such a thing. After freezing for a moment, he lets out a light huff. 

Gavin: All right. 

~

Even though I said that we’d be cleaning, I have absolutely no idea where to begin when I look at the dust-covered house. 

MC: Mm... should we do it from top to bottom, or from inside to outside...

Gavin: No need for such trouble. 

MC: Do you know some secret to cleaning up? 

Gavin doesn’t speak. The corners of his lips are tugged upwards into a smile, and he pulls me to his side. 

A gust of wind blows through the house, going through every corner, rounding up the dust and bringing them outside the house. 

From where we are standing, we aren’t disturbed by the dust at all.

MC: This... this is playing foul!

Looking at the house, which has become much cleaner in just an instant, leaves me feeling shocked and delighted. 

MC: So there’s actually this method!

Gavin: In the past, my mom would use this method of cleaning when she felt lazy. Seems like the result isn’t bad.

Gavin’s smile widens, and his eyes have a faint sense of longing within them. 

Gavin: MC, I’ll mop the floor, and you wipe the tables?

MC: Mm! With this division of labour, work wouldn’t be tiring~

The sounds of the slightly rusty faucet turning, followed by the rush of water, signal that our house cleaning project has officially begun. 

MC: Honestly speaking, I like cleaning up. 

I wipe the table earnestly, looking at how the old wooden table exudes a soft halo under the sunlight. 

MC: Sometimes when I’m not in a good mood, I’ll tidy up my room, and clean up. By doing so, my heart’s grievances are also cleaned up.

Gavin: Yes.

Gavin looks at the interior of the house, and agrees. 

Gavin: Many things require a proper cleaning up. 

The dirt is gradually removed, and the glass is polished. Gavin and I chat while sweeping. 

Sparks slowly return to this old house. 

Gavin: Hm? 

MC: Did you find something? 

Hearing a sound, I turn towards Gavin. 

There is an empty bookshelf taking up the space of a full wall. In the corner of the lowest shelf, there is an old tin box. 

MC: What is this...

Gavin: Open it and we’ll know.

Without hesitation, Gavin takes up the box and gently opens it. 

Several guesses flash across his mind. The moment the box is opened, he receives an answer. 

A bracelet made of small beads, an old but well-preserved doll, a transparent sweet wrapper...

A collection of items that girls would like. 

Did this box belong to Gavin’s grandmother? After thinking again, I find that the box doesn’t look that ancient.

While I’m still identifying the items in the box and speculating who its owner is, Gavin takes out a pair of small, incomplete knee pads.

MC: So cute... are those knee pads for little kids? Although it’s only half complete, a lot of heart was put into it. 

Gavin: Really? How can you tell? 

I take the knee pad from Gavin’s hand and turn it over carefully for him to see. 

MC: Look, the needlework is very delicate, and the edges are neat. If only my fingers were that nimble... it’s a pity that the embroidered small plane at the side is slightly out of shape. It’s probably the reason why it wasn't complete. 

Gavin: It is a little crooked. 

I return the knee pads to Gavin, and can’t help but voice my speculation. 

MC: Perhaps it was meant to be given to someone? I’m not sure if it was a success in the end...

Gavin: It was a success. It looked very good at the end, and was a very precious birthday present. The boy who received it liked it a lot. He even won several basketball matches while wearing those knee pads. 

MC: Gavin...

I suddenly realise something, and draw nearer to Gavin, looking at the pair of knee pads together with him.

MC: The boy who received this present is definitely very blessed. 

Gavin: Mm. 

Gavin nods, answering in a tender and soft voice. 

MC: Are we bringing it back with us later? 

He places the knee pads back into the box preciously.

Gavin: Since it has always been stored here, this is its most appropriate place. Let’s continue cleaning up.

~

I’m standing in the living room after cleaning the final area, and do a big stretch.

With our collaborative effort, the old house is finally thoroughly cleaned. 

The sense of melancholy earlier has been removed along with the dirt. Although the house still feels empty, one can see the warmth from its past. 

The wind chime has also been fixed, and it once again rings with crisp sounds.

MC: Once we wash the sheets and curtains, it’d be a complete success!

Unfortunately, when we press the power button, the washing machine produces a strange sound. It stops operating after a series of tremors. 

MC: Is it broken?

I look at the washing machine and give it a knock, refusing to give up.

Gavin: Possibly. This washing machine is a very old model, and it has always been idle, so it’s not strange that it’d malfunction. Let me try fixing it. 

I pull on Gavin’s arm before he leaves to get the toolbox, then point at the big basin at the side. 

MC: It’s not a bad idea to do things manually sometimes, right? 

Upon hearing this, Gavin turns his head to look at the warm weather outside the window. 

Gavin: It’s not bad. 

~

Clouds drift across the blue sky leisurely, and an occasional breeze causes the dandelions to fly along with it.

In the yard, Gavin and I hold each other to maintain our balance as we take turns to step on the sheets in the basin. 

As the cool water flows over our toes, the sheets gradually become clean, slowly returning to their former whiteness. 

Along with our repeated actions, foam bubbles fly everywhere, floating towards the grass. 

MC: It’s a pity that I didn’t bring any decorative items. If there were things like colourful ribbons and balloons to decorate this place, there would more of a birthday atmosphere. Right now, I keep thinking about how empty the house is.

While washing, I look at the old house before me and purse my lips, feeling regrettable towards the gaps in my plans. 

Gavin: It’s already very good now.

Gavin responds matter-of-factly, adding a little more washing powder into the basin.

Gavin: If we hang decorations, we would have to take them all down before leaving. There’s no need for such trouble.

His reaction is not unexpected. I smile and ask him.

MC: When it comes to my birthday, would you do up decorations?

Gavin: Of course.

He answers seriously, tightening his hold on my hand. 

Gavin: But you’re here right now, and even baked a cake yourself. To me, this is already the best birthday. Your plan is perfect. 

MC: [blushing] ...

Meeting his direct and candid eyes, I feel my cheeks flush. I lower my head and continue stepping on the sheets in the basin.

MC: Even if it’s not decorations, you could bring some small pieces of furniture to add a touch of home to the atmosphere if you come back again next time. It’s such a beautiful house, and we spent so much effort cleaning it. We can’t just neglect it again.

Gavin: All right. We can take a look at the furniture mall together anytime. I’m not good at choosing these things, so I’ll leave it to you.

MC: I might end up buying the things I like though...

Gavin: That’s not bad. 

MC: No no, this is still your house.

Saying this, I am suddenly curious. 

MC: Gavin, have you ever considered what your “ideal home” looks like? 

Gavin: The place I'm currently staying at is pretty good. 

MC: I’m not referring to that... it’s more...

I pause my actions, thinking of how to best illustrate it. 

MC: It’s a more emotional kind of “home”.

Gavin: In that case, I haven’t given it much thought... MC, come out for a while. I’ll change the water. 

As he speaks, he pulls me out of the basin. After pouring the dirty water into a bucket nearby, he takes the hose. 

His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and a few foam bubbles are on his sculpted forearms, scattering specks of colourful light. 

MC: Want to think about it now? 

I dip the sheets into the clean water. Under the warm sunlight, the old house seems to be cast in a layer of gold. 

MC: For example, there’s a soft cushion in the living room, and there’s a shelf for flowers in the balcony. 

Gavin: Mm, that sounds good. With a shelf for flowers, Pearly can live more comfortably too.

Gavin smiles at my serious expression, and considers the topic I brought up.

Gavin: As for other things... a telescope? 

MC: Being able to look at the stars at night sounds romantic. 

Gavin: Do I continue?

He raises his chin from the sheets and stretches his hand towards me. 

Gavin: Be careful not to slip.

MC: I have you, don’t I? 

I stand in the basin, exerting a bit of force, wanting to pull Gavin closer to me. 

The bottom of the basin is too slippery, and I lose my balance. 

Before I can steady myself, Gavin fishes for my waist, and I fall into his arms. 

Gavin: Be careful not to slip.

He repeats himself again, but his voice carries a smile this time. His low voice drifts to my ears. 

Because of the earlier movement, some water has ended up outside the basin, creating small puddles. It’s as though pieces of the sky are embedded into the ground. 

Gavin: The house must also have a good quality washing machine. 

Gavin leans down, helping me wipe water off my skirt. 

MC: Makes sense. 

Looking at his drenched shirt, I let out a laugh and second his remark.

When we start to coordinate with each other’s steps again, I start to imagine the house belonging to Gavin - the house he’s looking forward to. 

MC: What about the bookshelf? Would you have a huge bookshelf?

Gavin: Mm. That way, it’d be very convenient to work from home. 

MC: As expected of our dedicated Commander Gavin! What else? 

For some reason, I keep sensing his gaze trailing to the old house, and that he’s looking at something very afar off. 

Gavin: There’s a yard to put Sparky in. 

MC: The carport really needs to be built well. We can’t leave Sparky exposed to the wind and sun. 

Gavin: It’d be best to have a small basketball court...

Saying this, Gavin pauses, as though he just thought of something. 

Gavin: The house must also have a piano.

Gavin smiles and glances at me, the hidden meaning in his words self-evident. 

My face heats up, and I step on the sheets with force, creating more bubbles. 

MC: [blushing] Then, I want to grow ginkgo trees in the yard!

The bigger movements make me draw closer to Gavin in order maintain my balance. 

MC: There’ll be a swing, and also a dog which is as intelligent and cute as Flyer.

Gavin smiles as he reaches out to hold my upper arm.  

He looks into my eyes solemnly and opens his mouth slowly. 

Gavin: All right. Whatever we want, they will all be there. 

~

The sheets flutter under the sun, and we can finally rest for a while. 

Even though Gavin says that he doesn’t mind it, I still want to make this old house have more of a birthday atmosphere. 

I look at the big patch of dandelions, and am struck with an idea.

MC: There aren’t any colourful ribbons, but there are dandelions. I can form them into a “birthday crown”.

Thinking about the expression on Gavin’s face when he saw the flower garland, I am filled with motivation. 

Watching me head outside hurriedly, Gavin thinks of helping while looking confused. I stop him at the door. 

MC: You’re not allowed to peep. Have a good rest. This is an “order”.

Knowing that he can’t bend my stubbornness, he smiles and raises both hands in an “I surrender” posture.

Gavin: I promise to complete my mission.

Before I close the door, I suddenly see something stuck behind the cabinet at the entrance. 

MC: What’s this? 

Curious, I take a look and try to pick it up. Unfortunately, it remains stuck.

Gavin: Let me see.

I take a step back and Gavin shifts the cabinet slightly.

It’s a photo frame, and within it is a picture of a harmonious family of five. 

In the middle sits a couple who have experienced life. Life has brought steadiness and wisdom, but has not taken away their spirit. 

Behind them stands a couple, who look to be around twenty or thirty years old.

The man is muscular and handsome, and is unsmiling. 

The woman, on the other hand, is smiling. Her hair is draped over her shoulders. She is carrying a baby in her arms preciously, as though it is the entire world.

Somewhat familiar facial features enable me to quickly recognise who these people are. 

Gavin takes the photo frame from me wordlessly. The faint smile he always had has disappeared. 

MC: Gavin? 

Gavin remains silent for a while. Finally, he releases a sigh, using his thumb to brush the picture.

Gavin: You mentioned earlier that when you’re cleaning up, the grievances in your heart would be cleaned up as well. What should be cleaned up will have to be cleaned. 

His faint voice is the same as always, but is more solemn than usual.

Gavin: MC, there are some things I want to tell you. Are you willing to listen? 

MC: Mm. No matter what it is, I’m willing. I want to understand everything about you.

Gavin seems to be thinking about where to start. After a moment of silence, he purses his lips and begins. 

Gavin: My father is an outstanding soldier. I won’t deny that point, but it doesn’t mean that I agree with what he does. 

Gavin: As for my mother... she was very tender, and stronger than anyone else.

I look at Gavin’s side profile. Not much expression is on his face, but when he mentions this, there is warmth in his eyes.

Leaving his father when choosing between righteousness and family, a mother who was always tender, childhood struggles, a postponed birthday...

And the fire that severely burned him.

He spoke simply, carrying me across decades of the past in the span of a few minutes. Yet, my heart feels a wave of sorrow.

Gavin: These are just things that happened in the past. They’re over now. 

Gavin says this at the end, and places the photo frame on the table carelessly.

Gavin: Let’s check on the sheets outside. The weather has been hot recently, so they should dry quickly. 

I pull on Gavin before he stands up, and look at him seriously.

MC: No matter how heavy the topic is, you always say it so lightly. It’s as though you’ve never been affected by it. But... Gavin, whether it’s the scars from the past or right now, I hope to help you bandage them. 

I try to tidy my messy thoughts and grasp the words I truly want to say to him.

MC: Just like how we cleaned up this old house together, we will place new decorations and furniture together next time. We can turn this place into a house you can rest in.

Gavin lets out a sigh and rubs my head gently. 

Gavin: Only when I say a proper farewell will it count as leaving it behind, right?

I nod my head vigorously and give him a smile. 

MC: Want to tidy this up properly? 

Gavin: Mm.

Gavin finally returns a relieved smile. He brings me into his arms gently, and presses his forehead to mine. 

Gavin: Give me some time. 

MC: Mm. 

I close my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck.

No matter how heavy the past is, he will take it all away. He will move forward without confusion, and will no longer be bogged down.

As for those burdens that follow the wind, I can share them with him.

The wind chime on the windowsill produces a crisp sound. The low tone sounds like a farewell, and also the announcement of a new journey.

~

I stand on my tiptoes to retrieve Gavin’s dry shirt from the rack.

Along with my movements, the occasional dandelion blows past, floating and spreading in the air. 

After Gavin ended that long embrace, we hung the photo frame on the wall together, and I felt at ease.

This place shall be the start of our journey to the future. 

At this moment, the most important thing is to keep the clean clothes, and then hold a complete birthday celebration with him. 

MC: Should I make up for this another time when there’s more of a birthday atmosphere?

I retrieve Gavin’s dry shirt from the rack. The faint scent of sunlight lingers on it, as well as the washing powder. 

MC: Come to think of it, I wonder if Gavin would find this year’s cake a little too sweet...

Gavin: What about me? 

Before I can turn around, I am tightly encased in a familiar scent and warmth. 

MC: Gavin!

Gavin: I’ve tried a bit of the cake. The flavour is just right. 

MC: Why did you steal a bite?

 Gavin: It was just one bite, so it doesn’t count as stealing.

I pretend to be angry and turn my head to the side, wanting to say a few more things. My face meets Gavin’s cheek.

From this angle, his long eyelashes are clearly visible, and his amber eyes are even more clear and flawless. 

The slightly humid air circulates around us. In the span of a breath, all my senses are overtaken by him.

A wind blows past, carrying dandelions far away.

MC: Gavin, happy birthday.

With a curl of his lips, Gavin smiles. He holds me by the waist and lifts me up, spinning me around in a circle.

MC: Ah?!

Slightly startled, I laugh while pounding his shoulder lightly. 

He spins me around again, then changes his position to hold me in his arms. 

Gavin: We can keep the sheets later. Let’s have cake first. 

MC: It’s still in the afternoon though. We should keep the cake for tonight, after you’ve made a wish.

Gavin: It’s my birthday, so I have the final say.

Gavin doesn’t care about my small retort, nor does he care about the fluttering sheets. Still carrying me, we enter the house. 

The braided corollas hang at the end of the clothes pole, the golden flower petals stretching warmly under the sunlight. 

A gust of wind sweeps past, closing the door of the old house. 

On the windowsill, the tubes of the wind chime are also swept by the wind, hitting the glass, producing a crisp and long sound.

Clanging under the bright blue sky. 

🎐

Gavin’s Birthday Collection:

ASMR: Regaining the Old Days (takes place during the date)

Moments and Texts

Phone call

Video call

[silverlightqueen]

Fallen

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

angel!felix x demon!reader - comedy, fluff, felix worrying about losing his job as an angel lmao 

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary - Felix is an angel. Literally. Like, from Heaven. And he’s the best at being one. Never has he let temptation lead him astray. Never has he stopped before doing what is right. Never has he abandoned his assigned humans, even those that provide the most challenge. He’s never stepped a toe out of line, always kept his crush on a particularly annoying demon a secret. That is, until, he wakes up in the bed of said annoying demon with lipstick stains on his skin and his halo a little crooked.

Warnings: explicit discussion of sex, making out, that’s it I think but let me know if I missed something please!

this is dedicated to the lovely @brinnalaine​ for being such a supportive sweetheart, so I hope you enjoy this little fic about our sunshine!

a/n: and here is the sixth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I’m sorry it’s so late in the day but I’ve spent all day at a theme park scarefest getting terrorised by clowns and dolls in terrifying mazes lmao. @silverlightprincess​ hasn’t actually proofread this but she proofreads everything else so I still want to thank her for being the best! I really hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write. please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

silverlightqueen navigation

I wake up with something heavy on my face and a dizzy head from my mouth and nose being blocked. I try to take a deep breath and, instead, end up inhaling something soft and wispy, making me choke. I sit up suddenly, pushing the heavy thing off me with effort as I splutter, trying to empty my mouth of whatever it is that’s invaded it. And then I reach a finger into my mouth and end up pulling out feathers. Pure white and fringed feathers.

‘Did you just shove my wing, y/n?’ I hear Felix’s deep morning voice mumble into his pillow, and I shoot his back a dirty look, fishing his stupid feathers out of my mouth and trying to ignore the way I get butterflies in my stomach at hearing him say my name with that voice of his. He’s got his massive wings out for some stupid reason, one of them taking up my side of the bed whilst the other hangs over onto the floor. His hair, a lovely soft blond colour, is a fluffy mess on the pillow, and I can feel the heat that his body radiates despite only having the covers up to his hips, the band of his underwear just about visible.

I’ve been running into Felix quite a bit in the last few months – somehow he was always being assigned to humans in areas that I was… terrorising people in. Angels and demons have always had a… rocky relationship, but Felix was too pure, too kind, too sweet for me to be a bitch to him like I’ve been to all the other angels I’ve encountered. So I put up with his annoyingly sunny presence and his random acts of kindness and him stopping me from feeding on humans because ‘they haven’t done anything wrong!’ After him starving me for months, I got fed up and made a deal with him. I would scare the shit out of people to feed on them, and he would erase their memories so they wouldn’t be scarred for life. We became a… partnership of sorts, making me the most well-fed demon and him the highest achieving angel. To celebrate our successes, I took him to a new trendy bar last night and we got super drunk on fruity cocktails. And here we are now, with my cute red dress on the floor next to his black jeans.

‘Yes. I did. Because it was on top of me, suffocating me, and now I have a mouthful of your dumb feathers. Why are they even out? Put them away please?’ I ask harshly, injecting more annoyance into my voice than I feel, and Felix sighs, rolling his shoulders without moving from his position of being sprawled out on his front in my bed, and his wings slowly shrink, diminishing into his strong back, the only trace of them the two small bumps between his shoulder blades.

‘Don’t call my feathers dumb. I put a lot of effort into looking after them,’ he mumbles, voice still muffled in his pillow, and I roll my eyes, letting myself fall back against the bed. ‘Wouldn’t be able to tell. Coarse and ratty, they are,’ I tease half-heartedly, both of us knowing his feathers are softer than silk. ‘Like your hair,’ he replies in his wickedly deep voice, his amusement obvious in his tone, and I let out an outraged noise.

‘My hair is beautifully healthy, thank you. You should know – had your hands in it for hours last night,’ I pout, annoyed, as I pull the covers up around me, shivering. The room is absolutely freezing, due to the cold weather and the fact that I’m only in Felix’s thin white shirt and a pair of pants, so I can’t help but inch closer to him, his body radiating warmth. He doesn’t reply, but I don’t have any objections. I like my lazy morning lie-ins and it’d be nice to get a couple more hours of sleep.

‘Oh, shit,’ he says a few minutes later, sounding wide awake now, just as I’m beginning to drop off back to sleep, and I let out a loud huff of annoyance. ‘What?’ ‘I slept with you,’ he says as though he’s just found it out, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at me with wide eyes. ‘Did you forget? I thought it was pretty memorable,’ I say offhandedly, amused. ‘It was. But I… I slept with you,’ he says, turning over and staring up at the ceiling, blinking in disbelief. ‘Right. I’m confused,’ I say, wondering if he’s lost his mind or something. My pussy’s good, but not that good. Or maybe it is? God knows. Actually, let’s hope God doesn’t know. She’ll probably kill Felix. Oh, right. I get why he’s freaking out now.

‘Oh, no. Angel boy’s having a mental breakdown because he fucked a demon, and God’s not gonna be happy,’ I tease in a light voice, holding back my laughter, and Felix sits up in bed, looking distraught. ‘She’s gonna kill me. She will actually kill me,’ he says quietly before dropping his head into his hands with a dramatic fake sob. ‘Oh, calm down. She doesn’t even need to know,’ I say, immensely amused, and Felix turns to me with distraught eyes. ‘She’ll know!’ ‘How? Unless one of us tells her, she won’t know,’ I say pointedly, telling him to keep his mouth shut but in nicer words.

‘But… she’s God. Won’t she just know?’ he asks, eyes wide like an innocent little kid, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re not the first angel I’ve fucked, Lix.’ ‘I’m not?’ he asks, sounding sceptical, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t sound so disbelieving. But, anyway, she’s never found out about those before. As long as you don’t blab, it’ll be fine,’ I say, and he nods, looking like he’s on the verge of tears.

‘Lix, relax. Stop panicking. You’re ruining the morning-after mood,’ I say softly after a minute of him just staring at the wall unseeingly. I slide my arms around his waist, pulling him down to lie beside me, and I curl into him instantly, revelling in the warmth of his bare skin. His arm comes around me, holding me against him, and I can sense him relaxing a little. I lay a hand on his chest, over the red lipstick marks that stain his skin, drawing patterns with my fingers, and after a few minutes, he puts his hand over mine, making me look up at him.

He takes me by surprise when he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut after the initial surprise, and I melt into him, hand sliding up from his chest to around the back of his neck, the short soft hairs at the nape of his neck tickling the pads of my fingers. His velvety lips are firm against mine, our mouths moving in sync, and I let out little breaths and whines against his mouth as his hands leisurely travel over my body, giving me butterflies in my stomach when his tongue slides into my mouth.

We break apart after a few minutes, the kiss leaving me breathless, and his lips quirk up in an amused grin. He might be the most angelic… angel in Heaven, but he touched me, kissed me, fucked me like a demon. ‘You’re cute,’ he murmurs, briefly pressing his lips to my forehead, and I try to ignore the little thrill in my chest, pouting at him instead. ‘I’m an evil demon that feeds on human fear. I’m not cute,’ I mumble, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘You are. You’re a cute evil demon that feeds on human fear,’ he replies with a grin, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut it, angel boy, you’re the cute one here.’ ‘Here I was thinking you found me sexy.’ ‘In your dreams, Lix,’ I murmur amusedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Not what you were saying last night.’ ‘…Shut up.’

He laughs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I feel warm and secure in his arms. His angel aura is definitely shining through – it feels like nothing could harm me if he’s here. We cuddle in a comfortable silence, his fingers running through my hair soothingly, and my eyes flutter shut after a little while, slumber beginning to take me. ‘What happens now?’ he murmurs, bringing me back from my snooze, and I resist the urge to put my fist through his chest.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, suppressing a yawn, and he sighs gently as I move off him, lying beside him so I can look him in the eyes. ‘Where do we… go from here?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Um… you go back to Heaven and I go back to Hell,’ I reply, knowing that that’s not the kind of answer he’s looking for, and he rolls his eyes. ‘You know I don’t mean location. I mean… with us,’ he says tentatively, and I don’t react for a moment. ‘Are you asking me what we are?’ I ask, a little stunned, and he nods, looking like he wished he never asked.

‘We’re an angel and demon that have teamed up for our own interests, and we got drunk and slept together, which won’t affect our business partnership. Right?’ I say slowly, and I feel guilt twist in my heart when the hope disappears from his pretty brown eyes. ‘Right. Yeah. I just thought…’ he trails off, turning onto his back and not looking at me. ‘Thought what?’ I ask carefully, and he’s silent for a moment before sighing. ‘I thought that maybe it was something more. I mean… we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I guess I have a bit of a… crush on you?’ he stammers, ending his sentence as a question as though he’s not quite sure.

He’s still not looking at me, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix, God’s favourite angel, has a crush on me, Lucifer’s favourite girl and a princess of the 9th circle of Hell? I’m not quite sure how to react to the words, just blinking in surprise for a moment. ‘You have a crush on me? Are you sure?’ I ask, and he lets out a little laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. ‘Yep, pretty sure. I’ve had a few months to think about it,’ he says offhandedly, and my mouth falls open. ‘You’ve had a crush on me the whole time?’ I demand, and he finally looks at me, nodding sheepishly.

‘Why didn’t you say anything, stupid?’ I exclaim, hitting his chest gently, and he lets out a light chuckle. ‘I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.’ ‘What friendship?’ I ask jokingly, and he looks at me deadpan. ‘Sorry. But seriously, are we, like, high schoolers? No. We’re centuries old supernatural beings. If you had a crush on me, you should’ve just told me, and taken me on a date. What is wrong with you?’ I demand, and he blinks at me several times. ‘Did you just say I should’ve taken you on a date?’ he asks, stunned, and I let out an annoyed noise. ‘Yes, keep up.’

‘But… you’re a demon, and I’m an angel.’ ‘Forbidden romances are better than normal ones. Like Cleopatra and Mark, Tristan and Isolde, Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juli-’ ‘Every one of those couples had a tragic end,’ Felix says dryly, an amused smile on his face, and I roll my eyes. ‘They were mortal, and were forbidden by their parents. It’s different.’ ‘Oh, yeah, we have God and Lucifer to deal with instead,’ he says sarcastically, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘Lucifer won’t care. It’s God that’s the issue. An easily solvable issue,’ I grin, and his face falls.

‘Are you plotting against God?’ he demands, looking completely outraged. ‘Don’t look so shocked, it’s not blasphemy for me. I’m a demon, stupid. But, no, I’m not plotting against her. I’m just gonna… talk to her,’ I say mildly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re gonna… talk to God? To get her to let us date?’ he asks, sounding disbelieving, and I nod simply. ‘She’ll kill you,’ he replies, eyes sparkling with mirth, and I just grin. ‘I think you’ll find I can be quite… persuasive,’ I reply, dragging my fingertips across his chest gently, the feeling of my long red nails lightly scraping his skin making his amusement disappear, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He blinks a few times, knocking himself out of his little trance. ‘I’m not sure trying to seduce her will work,’ he says lightly, and I smirk at him. ‘Oh, I know. I’m planning something else for her. It’s you I’m trying to seduce,’ I murmur, resting my thumb against my lower lip with a small smile, making my eyes all big, and I see him visibly gulp.

‘It’s working,’ he says distractedly, sliding his arms around me and pulling me on top of him, and I meet his mouth in a kiss, unable to keep the grin off my face as our lips move against each other in a way that numbs my mind. ‘Wait, wait,’ he says after a few seconds, breaking away from me. ‘Does this mean you like me too?’ he asks, looking hopeful, and I think for a moment. ‘You’ve got potential. You’re… handsome, and your personality isn’t totally annoying,’ I admit begrudgingly, heart skipping a beat at the big smile that comes across his face. ‘But,’ I add, making his smile fall a little, ‘some of the appeal is the fact that you’re a pure soul, a heavenly little angel, and I’m quite the opposite. I wanna knock your halo off, angel boy, so you better hope I don’t get bored when I’ve done so.’

He doesn’t react with the hurt I expected, a small smirk playing at his lips instead, and before I can realise that we’re moving, he’s rolled us over, his body hovering over mine. His locks fall over his eyes, casting shadows across his face, and his grin makes him look more like the demons I walk among than the angel he truly is. ‘Don’t worry about getting bored, y/n,’ he murmurs in his sinfully deep voice, one of his hands coming to rest at the base of my throat and making my skin burn hot with desire. I can’t help but mirror his grin, impressed at this very out of character behaviour. ‘Why not, Lix?’ I ask teasingly, and he just smirks, hand tightening at my neck, his sparkly eyes locking with mine. He captures my mouth in a passionate and desperate kiss, murmuring against my lips; ‘I’ll keep you entertained.’

[ladyideal]

Light It Up

Pairing: Jim Kirk x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 1107

Warnings: None.

Summary: You go on a camping trip with Jim.

Requested by: @mournthewicked bonfire with Jim.

A/n: Well this turned out a lot different than I imagined 😅😅 Turned out nicely into a soulmate AU.

"J, honey," You rummaged through the camping gear. "Where did you pack the matches again?"

"I thought you said that you'll pack it," Came your boyfriend's voice from within the tent. 

"I told you before we left to grab the matches," You grumbled out, giving up for the moment. "How am I supposed to have my hot dogs and smores now?"

"Run to the general store, doll."

"It's nine, Jimmy," You stared into the cooler filled nearly to the brim with alcohol and food. "And if you haven't noticed by now, we're in the middle of nowhere."

Eleven months into constructing the new Enterprise A, you and James decided a last hurrah vacation before Starfleet called you back for service. During the time, a house was bought, leisurely traveled around the Federation worlds, went to many conferences and interviews, and spent time with Winona and your parents. 

"Just use the fireworks, doll."

You frowned. Fireworks?

"Okay Mister I swore I brought everything, then how do you expect me to light anything up without matches? Do you have a lighter on you or anything?" You hmphed, watching as James crawled out of the tent. 

"Not on me. Maybe check the medkit that Bones forced onto us?" He too frowned down at the box of camping gear.

You shook out the medkit stashed neatly between the camping chairs, and broke it open. "Well lookie here, at least the good doctor thought of everything."

You lifted a pack of matches out. "Maybe you should take a leaf out of his book."

The blonde snorted, hanging portable lights around the surrounding trees to light the more important places. "Be what? Grumpy like him all the time?"

You laughed, placing the small flame onto the pile of wood. It took a couple moments of coaxing the flames before it was hot enough to get dinner rolling. Soon, sounds of hot dogs sizzling on the grill and sweet potatoes wrapped in foil beside the fire, filled the air.

"Are they done?" You asked for the umpteenth time, setting out condiments and buns on the foldable table.

"So impatient," James clicked his tongs a few times before snatching three off the grill and onto your eager plates.

"You'll soon be missing this when we go back to the ship," You pointed out, putting on the condiments you wanted. "Besides, Command will probably want us back early."

He ran a hand through his hair as he sat down. "Time goes by fast when we're having fun. I'm going to miss this."

"Me too," You sat beside, starting your very late dinner. "But why did you bring fireworks? The park rules stated no fireworks allowed."

"Have a little fun. Go out with a bang."

"Damn it J, we're not getting kicked out again. Can we just have a place that we can call ours without having to be fined?" You rolled your eyes but grinned anyways, despite your grumbling.

"Oh come on, Y/N. Don't deny that you don't like them too."

You shook your head, but leaned back against the fabric. Leaves of all sorts of colors wafted through the air, and a cool breeze gently swirled around the campsite. 

"Like the Ensign mentioned when we were on that planet? Everything was too loud and not fun or something?" You grinned. 

"Where's the fun in that?" He snorted. "Now just sit back and enjoy the show, doll."

"I'm ready. Just missing you here," You patted his chair.

"Here we go!"

As you gazed up at the wonderful fireworks, you smiled, gazing affectionately to the side. Your captain was at peace, and there was nothing else you could want more. Flames from the fire in front threw warm light around, illuminating your hands linked together.

Cursive lettering of his name curled around the base of your pinky, and your name around his. You giggled at the thought, piquing your boyfriend's attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking about how all this started," You indicated your hand in emphasis.

"Ah," His relaxed smile turned into a shit eating grin. 

"Is there any way to keep this stop itching?" You scowled down at the name wrapped around your shortest finger. "Can I burn this off? I have had enough looking through everyone in the entire Federation that starts with the name James."

Doctor McCoy snorted at your suggestion, gently turning your hand around in his. "I've tried. It only returns. Only when you meet your soulmate will it stop itching."

"What's the use if I can't even find them in space? Easier to just cut off the finger and begone with all the trouble."

He stared at you in disbelief. "You want me to cut off your finger?"

"Please."

For the first time, the doctor was at loss for words. It certainly wasn't the first time amputating nor operating on a hand, but because of a soulmate name? 

That was a first.

"Whomever this James kid is, he's the one for you."

"Bones!" A very familiar voice called, entering the medbay from the left.

"Jim, would you quiet down,"  The doctor scowled, straightening up. "There are people sleeping here. What do you want?"

You giggled, enjoying the overeager blonde stride over to his best friend. "Captain."

"Lieutenant," He nodded once at you before firing questions at a very scowling doctor.

Jim. The doctor called him Jim. 

That wasn't short for anything, was it? Or was it sure for-

"James?" You spoke out loud suddenly, gaining the attention of both men from their animated conversation. Both shared a glance.

"Have we met before, Lieutenant-" 

"Y/L/N," You supplied. "Y/N Y/L/N."

The captain frowned, studying you as though the name was familiar. Beside him, the doctor appeared to have an epiphany, smirking at you and powering the biobed down. "You're free to leave, Lieutenant. My work here is done."

And scurried away to tend to another patient.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I just realized your name was James and I thought it couldn't be a coincidence that it was you all along," You hopped off the biobed, straightening your uniform.

"But it is," The blonde showed his hand to you. Slowly, you reached out, and traced your inked name. "It is great to have finally met you."

"I'm glad you didn't go through with cutting your hand off though," James grinned from the other chair, pulling you out of the fond memory.

"Good thing I didn't. Scotty would be furious at me if I did."

"To us," He raised his glass.

"To us," You clicked yours to his, and happily took a sip as the fireworks continued firing into the night sky.

Noms Everything: @asraime @mournthewicked @aspiring-ginger @bluesclues-1234 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @groovyfluxie @keijibum @also-fangirlinsweden @mysoulshideaway @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @bbeasehnsucht

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @april-showers-and-flowers @deeppandanerdbatty @piccolaromana @strange-old-worlds @scraftskhu35 @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @dartheldur @goddess-of-many-fandoms

[ygboysygbby]

Oh My Demi-God

Mino/Song Minho Scenario

Request: 3 + mino please <3 thxxx

Prompt: I accidentally found out my neighbor can produce fire from his hands. Help???

It had been one month exactly since you started living in your own apartment. Moving to your own space had always been a dream for you, and now that you finally got a stable job in the field that you loved as a plus, you were beyond grateful. It was a fresh start for a fresh new chapter in your life. 

But, it had been two weeks since you noticed how bizarre your neighbor was. 

First, the guy would always, always had the expression of an angry bear. You didn’t know why, but that was what popped up in your head the first time seeing him. He would always seem like he had not sleep in ages. 

Second, there was always a distinct burnt smell mixed with musk and flowery scent going on with him. It was not like you were a creep that smelled on him or anything, it was just that the smell was very strong that you could smell it even just by walking pass him. Let’s just say the scent was hard to miss.

You had not really gotten the chance to catch his name. Not like it was important to you anyway. 

**

“You sure you’re okay going home by yourself? I can go with you.” Your co-worker said. 

“Nah, it’s fine! I can handle two bottles of soju alright, I’m just a little bit lightheaded that’s all.” You said as you opened the door of the taxi.

“You sure?” The guy said while taking your wrist.

“Jackson, it’s fine.” You flinched, pulling your hand and smiled awkwardly. “See y’all tomorrow!”

“I insist, you’re not walking straight.” 

The drinking and hanging out with a few of your co-workers was unplanned, but since it was the director’s birthday, she decided to treat some food, which turned into drinking session. You were glad that you did not end up getting too much drink as one of your co-workers who threw up in the restaurant. You were not even close to being drunk at all, just feeling a bit dizzy, it was normal for you, so in your mind it was not needed whatsoever for your persistent co-worker to accompany you home. Thankfully, Jackson did not say anything during the whole ride, making the situation less awkward. Truthfully you just felt awkward towards the lad since almost all of your co-workers kept saying that he liked you. You couldn’t see yourself together with him at all. Sure, he was handsome and all, too handsome maybe in your opinion, but he was also too flirty, which made you uncomfortable. 

The taxi stopped and It was almost 2 in the morning when you arrived at your apartment. Jackson again, insisted on accompanying you until you were safely inside your apartment unit, even though you kept saying that it was unnecessary. 

“Alright, this is my place.” You said, stopping in front of your door. “Thank you, you should really go home now it’s already late.”

“You sure? I can take you to your room if you want.” The guy smiled.

“No, seriously, Jackson, it’s alright…” You were getting really annoyed by how persistent the guy was.

“Can you keep it down?”

There he was. With his dark red hair that looked shorter from the last time you saw him. Did he get a haircut? His shoulder tattoos, that were showing because of his oversized sweater. His usual grumpy bear face, and this time, you saw the absence of his lip piercing. Even for just being at home, this man still looked like he just came out from a cyberpunk movie.

“Ah, sorry.” Jackson slightly bowed his head. “I’m going home then, I’ll text you when I get home.” 

“Sure…” You rolled your eyes when the guy was already out of sight.

The guy had already locked his door when you grabbed your doorknob to open it. Rummaging through your bag, your heart skipped a beat, realizing that you had left your keys in your office. Great! Now I’m gonna sleep in front of my doorstep and go to work tomorrow while smelling like a drunken hobo. Fantastic!

Fifteen minutes into sitting down and having a headache, while looking like a loser, you began to feel sleepy. Just when you were finding a way to rest your back on the door, the sound of your neighbor’s unlocking his front door was heard. 

From the looks of it, it seemed like he was about to have a smoke, judging by the pack of red Marlboro in his hand. The look on his face was insulting when he saw you sitting down on your doorstep like an idiot. 

“Miss, are you drunk?” He asked, surprisingly giving a damn about his surrounding. 

“No, I left my keys in my office...” You slumped down. 

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. “Are you okay being like that or do you wanna rest on my couch?”

“For real?” You asked, almost not believing what you had just heard. 

“Hurry before I change my mind.” He opened his door and entered before you. 

As soon as you stepped in his apartment, you were no longer feeling sleepy. Bright colors hit your sight like a car crash. There were several paintings hanging on the wall that seemed handmade, and some small figurines here and there. The amount of blue rose used as decoration was crazy that you could had mistaken him as a florist. His whole apartment room looked like an art exhibition. Without realizing, your hand instantly moved up to touch one of the paintings that he had hanged. 

“Don’t.”

“Ah... S-sorry, it just looks so pretty.” 

“It’s better for you to just sleep, the more you look around, the more you’ll get freaked out.” He said sternly. 

“Freaked out? I feel like I’m in an art museum right now!” 

He didn’t reply for a moment, so you thought he was just not gonna respond to that, or maybe simply not into keeping the conversation alive, but he opened his mouth before entering his bedroom. 

“Good then, if it doesn’t bother you.” Was all he said before closing the door behind him. 

Now, how do you sleep again?

**

The sound of your usual phone alarm rang and woke you up. The slight pain in your back caused by sleeping on the couch was very noticeable, awaking your sleepy head self immediately. Cooked pancake and a hint of cigarette? You didn’t know since when did you became so good at detecting scents. 

And so you got up, taking your feet to what seemed like the kitchen. You could hardly tell because how poorly dimmed the room was. 

“H-Hey! Why are you smoking while cooking? Is that even safe?!” 

The man didn’t seem to be bothered and kept cooking his pancakes.

“Alright, thanks for the help last night, I’m gonna go now...” 

“Do you... want some breakfast?”

That took you by surprise. “Cigarette flavored pancakes?” You giggled. 

It seemed like he almost laughed too, but immediately took a huff on his cigarette. “Yeah, if you wanna call it that.”

“I saw that!” You pointed out as you sat down, still giggling. 

“What.”

“Nothing!” You smiled. How friendly he actually was made you feel relieved. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

It was pleasing how the grumpy bear looking guy was actually a lot nicer than what you thought he was. More lesson on why you should never judge the book by its cover. 

“Alright, I really can’t thank you enough now.” You said, wiping your lips clean. “I’m gonna head out now. It’s really nice to finally meet you properly, uhh...”

“Minho.”

“Ah yeah, thank you Minho!” You offered your hand to shake and introduced your name as well. 

It took him a while, but eventually he shook your hand. Without a word, he simply walked to the door and opened it for you. 

“I owe you one. Let me know if you need anything!” You waved before making your way out. 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

“Actually,” You said, stopping midway. “I really like your paintings…”

“Really.” He said in a monotone voice, but there was a tiny hint of sparkle in his eyes. “You wanna see more… next time?”

“I can?!” You widened your eyes in disbelief.

The redhead only shrugged, a small curve crept on the edge of his lips for a second, before going back to his usual expression.

“Sunflower?” You voiced out your thoughts as the scent of his perfume found its way into your nostrils. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a creep it’s just that your perfume’s really strong and I— uhh...” 

“Creep.” He chuckled. 

“H-Hey!”

Seeing him smiling really brought you into a good mood and you had no idea why. 

**

Some days passed and you continued on living your life as usual. Eventually, as you grew closer by sharing the same interest with your neighbor, now you had one additional thing added to your life. Some nights, instead of going out for a smoke at late night, Minho, who apparently preferred to be called Mino, went to your apartment to teach you how to paint. Or, you visiting his place instead to simply watch him paint, which was mesmerizing in your defense. Or sometimes when you both just needed the company. He learned that you worked for a fashion magazine, you learned how he actually also had interest in fashion, and would occasionally ask you about the clothes he wore, which you recently found out, was altered by him. Apparently, Mino had his paintings and sculptures commissioned by tons of people, and that was kinda his source of income. The guy never fancied the spotlight too much, but a man still gotta eat, so there was that. 

You loved how passionate he was when he talked about art. He just turned into a very talkative man and would argue without hesitation. You also learned that he wore his perfumes based on his mood. Sunflower when he was feeling good and Rose on the blue days. Lately, he had been wearing sunflower a lot. 

Mino was not exactly a very open book, but rather, if he were a book, he would be a mystery one that got more excited the more you read it. 

**

It was your day off and you decided to stay at home. The pleasure of just watching horror movies and eating snacks at night was just the right thing for you in your leisure. Thirty minutes into watching, out of the blue, you heard your doorbell rang. At first your mind immediately went to Mino, but you remembered how he would always knock instead of ringing the bell. Tiptoeing, you peeked at the peephole and were shocked to see who was outside. 

Jackson, seemingly drunk.

At first you were hesitating, but you opened the door anyway. “Jackson, you can’t just come without telling me first…”

“Can I come in?” He said with sloppy voice.

To say the truth, you didn’t want to let him in, but you felt a little bit bad for the guy.

“Alright, let me help you.” You put his arms over your shoulder and took him to sit down on your sofa. “I’ll grab some water, just rest your head.”

“Wait.” He grabbed your wrist. “I don’t need water.”

“Yes you do, so just—“

“I need you.” Jackson suddenly said, pulling your wrist harder, making you fell down on his lap.

“Look, I’m so sorry but I don’t feel the same way. I’m sure there’re plenty of girls out there—“

“Shut up.” 

Before giving the chance for you to react, he already grabbed you by the head and forced you into a kiss. You were struggling to pull back as you could already feel his tongue pushing in. When you managed to push him, his expression was furious. You had never seen Jackson like this before. It was like his perfect handsome face just transformed into a demon. 

And then it clicked on your head. 

The guy did not even reek alcohol at all.

“You’re not even drunk aren’t you?” You looked at him in disgust.

That was it. Jackson snapped and stood up. He pulled you by your arm and threw you on the sofa violently. 

“You’ll give in eventually.” He said before tightly pinning your hands with one hand against the armrest.

Out of your reflexes, you screamed. It sure did not lasted that long because the bastard already silenced you with his mouth. At this point, he already had his other hand under your shirt. Tears started to flow on your cheeks as all you could think for some reason, was a certain man with red hair. 

Speaking of him…

A loud bang sound of the door being closed in a rush came from next door. Your front door was locked, but Minho just entered your apartment like there was no problem. The tiny smoke from your doorknob, did not caught anyone’s eyes. Mino didn’t even seem like he moved any muscle when he took Jackson by his back collar and threw him to the floor. Jackson moaned in pain, in fact, he sounded too much in pain for someone who only got thrown on very short distance. 

And that was when you saw the smoke.

It came from both of Jackson’s collar and Mino’s right hand.

“Holy shit! What the fuck are you?! I’m calling the fucking cops on you!!!” Jackson whined, still patting the back of his neck, trying to put out the small fire.

“Sure, and I’ll tell them you just tried to rape an innocent woman.” 

Mino’s eyes were eyes cold, ironically. He simply stood there looking at Jackson, waiting for his reaction. There was still specks of fire floating around his hands, as if he was ready to attack in any second. Didn’t take too long before the guy started running away like a chicken, with his now nonexistent back collar.

When Mino turned to you, you were already crying. Not because of how scared you were, but of how grateful and thankful you were of him. Even when it turned out that he was probably not even human, you could not care less. He bent down and hugged you tightly, so tightly that you could feel his heartbeat racing. You just cried and didn’t know what to say. He seemed like he was also lost of words, only his hands caressing your back softly, trying to calm you down.

“Are you okay?” He said right after breaking the hug.

“Yeah.” You sniffed.

“Are you… scared of me?”

You shook your head in disagreement and took his hands in yours. “Does it hurt when you do that?”

“No… I’m just so angry right now you have no idea.” He leaned his head on your shoulder.

You smiled as you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “You still smell good even when you don’t have any perfume on.” A giggle left your mouth. 

The guy turned tense and looked at you for a second, before turning away. A shy blush crept on his cheeks. Another expression you did not know he had.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” You cheekily smiled, followed by a quick stollen peck on his lips.

“Y-You…”

“What?” You eyed him playfully. 

“Dear Hephaestus, forgive me for I’m about to sin…” He sighed before kissing you back.

“You owe me a good explanation after this.” You said, breaking the kiss for a second before locking them back again.

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

UGH Tumblr got rid of the divider line and now I’m just pissed of how unorganised this post look!!! lol

Feels good to be back after a while, I’ll probably start making more soon, but can’t promise y'all for regular updates cause i’m busy :(

Thank u very much for reading! 💖💖💖

[angelbabylu]

Man or Beast // LH

pairing: witch!oc x vampire!luke

word count: 7.5k

warnings: smut, fluff, magical stuff, angst if you squint 

notes: so last week i posted something wicked, an introduction to this universe where 5sos are vampires. as stated in my note for that fic, the idea comes from this book series. whereas that fic dealt with a lot of witch lore, this will deal with vampire lore. basically digging into luke’s family and backstory and such. this has the barest of allusions to dracula. i hope you enjoy! 

title: from this dracula quote: “[S]omething dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.”

Part 1: Something Wicked

-- 

The first year in front of her had turned bright red in embarrassment. They were in the greenhouse discussing the life cycle of plants and how magic could be used to speed up that process. Margo, the TA for this freshman herbology class, had grown quite used to her students being intimidated by her. Especially those like the young witch in front of her who’s magic had gone haywire and caused several plants in the vicinity to die. The good news was that Margo was somewhat of a prodigy when it came to herbology. It was one of the few things she could do without incantations.

She ran her hands over the flowering plants as she spoke to the girl. “Like with all magic, it is about manipulating something on a molecular level. With raw power, all you have to do is send your magic into the universe and manipulate it to do your bidding. Like creating water.” Margo whispered a quick spell that had an orb of water forming between her fingertips. She tossed it into the air, and it disappeared into steam.

“Or,” Margo continued, “telekinesis.” After a wink from Margo, the large, round, wire-rimmed glasses that the first year wore wiggled up and down on her face.

“The water and your glasses are both inanimate objects, so I only had to worry about manipulating them to my own will. With plants, you can’t just shove energy at it and hope for the best as they have a will of their own. Listen to the plant and learn what it wants. If you just try to bend it to your will, it will resist, which could lead to. . . ” Margo trailed off.

The young witch had already experienced the consequences of such actions. “This takes a level of practiced magical manipulation.” As if in a show of agreement, the plants began to come back alive around her, sprouting flowers as red as the witch’s face had turned earlier.

Margo was so engulfed in trying to teach her young student how to control horticultural magic, she didn’t notice the slight prickling in her thumb.

She missed the whispering and giggling too. It was not until the young witch interrupted her with a small, yet constrained smile and said, shyly, “Miss Crowley, I think your boyfriend is here,” that she looked up and out towards the doorway. Sure enough, leaning against the door frame to the greenhouse was Luke, arms crossed, a smile on his face.

Margo pursed her lips in mild annoyance, hands coming to rest on her hips. Luke knew that when he showed up to her lectures, it distracted the class. Most vampires didn’t hang out with the Horticultural Magic students–they tended to prefer biological sciences, history, literature, and other such pursuits. And, vampires were also the least prevalent of the magical beings. Chances were many of the first years had never seen a vampire before meeting Luke.

Some of the bolder witches had already made their way over to him, taking his attention away from Margo.

“I suppose class is over?” asked the young witch Margo had been helping. She looked at her students whose focus was no longer on the plants in front of them, but on the tall, looming vampire in the doorway.

“I suppose,” Margo said solemnly.

She went to the front of the greenhouse and called out for attention. “Class dismissed. Please remember that I expect all of you to be able to draw the life cycle of an angiosperm by next Tuesday! There will be a quiz.”

As always, there was a collective groan throughout the room. Margo ignored it as she went to about packing her things. Luke stayed at the door for a couple of seconds saying goodbye to the few students that were friendly with him before walking over to her. When she had rammed all that could fit in the small laptop bag, she slung it over her shoulder, picking up the spellbook and the biology textbook she couldn’t quite fit.

Reaching out, Luke stole the books and a kiss. “Good afternoon, mon cœur,” he said, his native language rolling smoothly off his tongue. “I take it you had a good class.”

Margo refused to smile at him, no matter how charming he was.

When she didn’t return his smile, he turned indignant. “What did I do?” He asked, voice raising an octave.

“Half my class is like in love with you. Every time you show up, they forget I exist.”

Luke laughed at her revelation, placing one arm around her and ushering her out of the greenhouse. “Half your class is in love with you,” he shot back. “That girl you were talking to when I walked in? She has such a huge crush on you, I could hear her heart hammering from halfway down the hall.”

“What?” Margo’s mouth hung open. “No way. Poor thing. It’s too bad for her that I don’t date my students.”

“And that you’re dating me,” Luke reminded, squeezing her shoulder possessively.

Margo laughed; she had known that would get a reaction out of him.

They walked in relative silence, basking in the golden hue of the late afternoon sun. Glancing up at Luke, she watched as the light brushed against his angular features, causing the contours of his face to seem more prominent. She remembered the days she thought vampires would burn in the sunlight. Turns out that, while they preferred nighttime, the sun did little more than irritate their sensitive eyes. Growing up in her small town in Massachusetts, she didn’t have much contact with other supernatural creatures that weren’t witches. It was part of the reason she loved the University of the Arcana as much as she did. The different kinds of people she got to meet were refreshing.

Luke’s Tesla was parked a few feet outside the Horticultural Sciences Complex. The research lab where he mapped the vampire genome and studied evolutionary biology was just a few blocks from Margo’s greenhouse. Their evening routine used to include enjoying a leisurely 5-minute stroll from said greenhouse to the biology complexes. Recently, however, that had not been the case.  

“Why’s your car here?” She asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“I went to a few theology seminars today,” Luke said in response.

Along with being an evolutionary biologist, Luke was getting a degree in the history of theism, and, when he was feeling particularly nostalgic, he also attended classes on Romantic-era literature. The thing about vampires was that they had all the time in the world, so getting two or three degrees at once was nothing to them. It didn’t escape her notice, however, that he had been attending these classes more frequently.

Margo tramped down her budding need for confrontation and asked instead, “Do we have any plans for tonight?” In the privacy of Luke’s car, she kicked off her trainers and took her hair from its top knot. Saying goodbye to the day, she relaxed back into to cool leather of the interior, facing Luke only once her legs were tucked firmly underneath her.

Splitting his attention expertly between her and the road, Luke asked, “Would the house be mad if I stole you away for one more night?”

Her house, or rather the Gamma Nu Sorority House, had a habit of misbehaving when it was feeling cheated. Once, a few weeks before, she had spent 6 blissful days sleeping on Luke’s memory foam mattress only to return home to find her room missing. After hours of begging and cajoling, there was still no sign of her scratched up wooden door. Finally, it had taken her promising not to spend more than three days at a time at Luke’s for the house to re-materialize the room in its former spot.

“We’ve got one more day,” Margo informed him, thinking about their Game of Thrones marathon that had lasted two nights in a row. “I can’t watch Game of Thrones tonight though. Your girl’s gotta study.”

“I could cook while you study?” Luke suggested. “Then, we can do dinner and go to bed early.”

“Good food and an early bedtime?” Margo released an exaggerated moan. “Talk dirty to me.”

:: ::

It was 9 PM when Luke entered the study that, over months of dating, had become more hers than his. He was holding a pasta dish, two glasses of wine, and some freshly baked bread. Margo was more excited to see the food than she was to see him.

Luke’s diet consisted mostly of blood, animal’s or hers, and wine. Since becoming a vampire, he had lost his taste for human food, but not his love of the culinary arts. Dating her gave him an excuse to get back into the kitchen where he liked to get experimental with his dishes.

She closed the potions textbook in front of her and held her hand out for the plate as soon as he got close enough. “Carbs!” she cried happily. “You do love me.”

He chuckled and kissed her before handing her the plate. Leaning against the edge of the desk, he watched intently as she took the first bite.

“Any good?” Luke’s culinary inventions didn’t often leave her wanting, and this time was no different. The fork had no sooner left her mouth than she was groaning.

Laughing, Luke said, “I’ll take that as an affirmative.” Perched on the desk, he sipped wine casually and gave her a moment to savor her food. Then, he asked, “How’s potions going?”

“It’s kicking my ass,” was her grumble of a reply. “There are hundreds of potion bases, and I have to memorize them all by next Friday.”

“Do you want me to quiz you while you eat?” He was already reaching for the book she had set aside earlier.

Grabbing his hand, Margo stopped him. “If I see or hear anything about potions for the next 12 hours I might actually die.”

“At least we haven’t resorted to dramatics,” he retorted dryly. After he studied her for a minute, then announced, “Alright, finish eating and meet me in the bathroom.”

Reluctance must have shown on her face because he exclaimed, “Oh my god, just do it!” Then, he disappeared through the office door.

Fifteen minutes later, Margo left the study for the bathroom, which she found with its door slightly ajar, soothing piano music drifting out. She pushed inside to reveal a prepared bath and a few candles burning, tossing soft light off the porcelain of the tub. A small speaker sat on the counter, the source of the sounds that had drawn her in earlier. Luke was noticeably absent.

He appeared behind her in the next second, a couple of large towels in hand. “Ah, there you are.” He said nonchalantly, as if unaware of how romantic this simple gesture was in her eyes. He had seen how strung out she was and had known exactly what she needed. “C’mon, get in the tub.”

Margo was eager to follow his order, but first, she leaned over the stack of towels to press a chaste kiss to Luke’s lips. “You’re getting in with me, right?” She asked while unbuttoning the powder blue shirt she’d been wearing for over 14 hours then.

“If you want me to.”

Margo scoffed, then moved to unclasp her bra. Next went her pants and underwear. While wrapping her hair up into a bun atop her head, she slunk into the tub. She didn’t recline against the porcelain back just yet, leaving space for Luke. He was still standing by the doorway where he had been intently watching her movements.

“You coming?” She asked impatiently.

Those words snapped him out of whatever reverie her naked form had pulled him into. Shaking his head, he deposited the towels next to the tub, then undressed and slotted himself behind her. She relaxed, at last, leaning against the broad span of his chest.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she whispered. Luke’s response was to place three small kisses on the route from her shoulder to her neck. She melted even further into his arms. “Who are we listening to?”

Luke, being as old as he was, preferred classical music to her top 40 pop. Having only taken a recorder class in elementary school, Margo knowledge of music was limited. Luke was determined to change that. Every chance he got, he played his favorite songs for her.

“Chopin,” was his answer, mouth still grazing the skin of her throat. “Nocturne Number 2 in E-Flat Major.”

“Did you know him?” She couldn’t help the slight hitch in her voice when he nibbled gently on the skin of her throat.

“We may have met once or twice.” In Luke terms, that was a yes. In 1795, the vampire who sired him had been wealthy with connections all around the globe. This meant that, for the first hundred years after his rebirth, Luke easily became acquaintances with any one of interest. As little as Margo knew about history, she enjoyed hearing the stories of past historical figures.

But tonight, Luke wasn’t interested in telling her a story. “Luke,” she whined as his bites got rougher, and his hand trailed down past her belly button.

“Is that a ‘Luke, please continue’ or a ‘Luke, stop.’” He asked, pausing all motions.

“It’s an ‘I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep immediately after I come,’” she retorted. A yawn slipped from her in that exact moment as if to prove her point.

“That’s okay.” This time he bit her ear. “You coming is all that matters anyhow.”

Unhindered, his hand slipped between her thighs. It started out gentle, with two fingers pushing against her clit. Almost reluctantly, she pushed her hips up to greet them. Then, as he started to explore her folds a bit more, she ground up against him in earnest. The hand that wasn’t toying with her folds squeezed gently on her breast and toyed with her nipple. She gripped his bicep in response.

Then, he slipped one finger inside her, sinusoidally dipping in and out, setting her whole body alight.

He another added another. Margo’s hips ground against him as she searched for more leverage. When he touched something inside her that filled her with ecstasy and the ravenous need for more, she cried out, and threw one leg over the side of the tub, displacing water in the process.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, God. Luke.” The cries of pleasure rang out throughout the room.

Luke began to finger her in earnest then, index and middle finger slipping in and out of her. He kissed up and down her neck until he was taken by the heat of the moment too. The hand that had been toying with her nipples slid down to her stomach, holding her flush against him as he rocked up against her. His dick was obviously hard between their slick bodies.

It wasn’t until he growled, low and guttural, that she realized just how far gone he was. He rearranged her, so she was seated fully on his lap, dick now positioned between her cheeks. All the tiredness was swept from her mind as she ground down against it.

Then, raising off his lap a bit and reaching back, she wrapped a hand around him. It was an awkward angle, but she made it work. Pumping him a few times made his hips go wild as he bucked uncontrollably.

She said, “I’m gonna–“

The words didn’t quite get out, lost in the haze of lust that made it impossible to think straight. Margo lined herself up with him and sank down. They weren’t going to last very long. The water in the bathtub continued to splash to the floors as one of Luke’s arms wrapped around her body, holding her slave to his motions. He had her pressed up against his chest, fucking up into her and toying with her clit. It was slippery and messy, and Luke had to reposition himself a few times, but neither made any attempts to stave off their lust so they could move to a bed. 

Chopin could barely be heard over his growls, her cries of pleasure, and the distinct sound of water sloshing over the edges of the tub. His lips continued their path up and down her neck, bites deeper than before. They were painful, but in a way that made her toes curl.

She knew what he wanted before he said anything. “Please, can I–” He began, but cut himself off and threw his head back, fighting an instinct.

They weren’t face to face, and with the way they were moving, inches from orgasm, neither would want to take a moment to reposition. So, he would have to bite her neck. It was of no consequence to her; it was nothing she couldn’t hide without makeup.

Without really thinking about, Margo responded to his silent plea. “Yes,” she gasped out. “God, yes.”

The next second, she felt the sharp pain of the skin of her neck being pierced, followed immediately by intense euphoria. She buried one hand in his hair, holding him there; the other went down to encourage his motions as he continued to rub against her clit. They came, one right after the other, their hips stuttering to a halt.

“Fuck,” Luke grunted when he pulled away from her neck, head falling against the plaster wall behind them with a thud. As always, it took him a few minutes to get his wits about him after drinking her blood. Margo took that time to pull off of him and catch her breath.

Later, when they were both tucked underneath Luke’s black silk sheets, Luke ran his fingers gently over the deep teeth marks on her neck. Another lore Luke had taught her: Vampires didn’t have retractable fangs, but their teeth were more than sharp enough to pierce skin.

She had marks, like the ones now on her neck, almost ingrained in the skin of her chest. That is where he most often drank from her, as was the vampiric custom when it came to lovers.

“I shouldn’t have done this.” He said, fingers still tracing the indents of his teeth.

Margo couldn’t figure out why he sounded so pained. The healing properties of his saliva would ensure it didn’t leave a mark. Unless he bit her there again, after a day or two of covering it with makeup, neither of them would remember it even existed.

“It’s fine. No one’s going to see it.” Margo insisted.

Luke didn’t respond.

Margo fell asleep with his thumb still tracing the outline of the marks.

:: ::

She woke up to a sharp prickling in her thumb. Shooting to a seated position, she looked at her hands, disoriented and confused by the sudden onslaught of pain. Luke, who had been awake in bed next to her, sat up as well.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice noticeably laden with worry.

Margo shook her head.

“Something is looking for me.” She tried to shake the drowsiness from her mind. Her senses were dulled by it. Whenever a powerful creature came looking for her, a small prickling would alert her to their intent. But this was more powerful than anything she had ever experienced before.

“Three somethings,” she continued as she began to make sense of what she was feeling. “They’re big, and they’re powerful. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

She saw the exact moment understanding dawned on Luke. He sniffed the air once, then muttered, “Shit.” He was out of bed and at the door to the room in a blink.

“What’s happening?” She asked frantically, trying to figure out what she might have missed. There was some information Luke’s supernatural senses had picked up that hers could not provide. In moments like these, she envied how he was preternaturally attuned to his senses. 

“If I asked you to stay in the room, would you?” He asked.

But, she was already getting out of bed and slipping into her slippers and his robe. Even rushing through these motions, she was no match for vampire speeds. By the time reached the front door, Luke was standing there blocking the way of three large, imposing vampires she had never seen before.

They were all dressed in all black. One stood in front of all the rest, his dyed red hair slicked back. He wore a t-shirt tucked into jeans with a leather jacket thrown over it. Margo could see he wore two rings on each hand and his nails were painted black. The man on the left looked much more laid back. His black jeans were distressed, and he wore an ACDC t-shirt. While Luke traded jabs in French with the frontman, this one simply stood back with an easy smile on his face. Finally, there was the man with a slightly deeper skin tone than the others leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed and the fabric of the plain black t-shirt he wore struggled to cover the entirety of his bicep. If this was some kind of vampire shakedown, he was definitely the muscle.

The frontman noticed her first. He scoffed in disgust and began gesturing to her as they spoke. The other two remained relatively quiet but did spare her a few wary glances. What little French she knew was unhelpful, as they spoke too fast for her to catch any words.

She attempted patience first, trying not to look too indignant as they conversed about her as if she wasn’t there. But that was one of her pet peeves, and, to her displeasure, the conversation did not seem to be letting up any time soon.

Next, she tried speaking up, but not even Luke turned his head at her, “Excuse me.” If anything, they seemed to talk louder. She began reciting the spell before she could think better of it.

Their mouths snapped shut the next instant, and all was quiet for a moment. When they realized something magical was preventing them from speaking, all eyes turned to her. Luke’s baby blues looked more frustrated than she had ever seen them. She released him from the spell.

“What’s going on?” She asked, now that his attention was back on her.

For a moment, he glanced between her and the three men standing at the door. Then, he said, “Let’s go inside.”

:: ::

Ashton, Michael, and Calum.

Those were their names, respectively.

It wasn’t a vampire shakedown; it was a family reunion. They relocated into the uncomfortable chairs Luke had purchased for his dining room in hopes of dissuading guests from overstaying their welcome. It was still relatively early in the morning, so Margo made herself tea. The other four vampires had wine.

She knew a bit about Luke’s brothers from the stories about France and the French revolution that Luke liked to tell. From what she knew, Ashton was the leader of their little clan. He was the one who had sired Luke in the first place. It explained why at some angles they looked similar, when he replaced all the blood in Luke’s body with his own, some of Luke’s features changed.

Ashton had an assuming presence that seemed almost too large for Luke’s dining room. Were Margo more mild-mannered, she might have retreated to the background to let the vampires talk. But that was not her.

“You don’t like witches?” Margo presumed aloud once she was seated across the table from Ashton with her tea. She still hadn’t made sense of the argument at the door. Her witches senses did not lie, they had shown up at Luke’s looking for her. When they found her, it obviously became a point of contention.

Ashton scoffed with a hint of condescension. “Please. We are not prejudiced.”

“Do not scoff at me,” Margo shot back. “Not when you refuse to tell me why you’re here. Looking for me might I add.”

The one in the distressed jeans, Michael, grinned at her and whistled low. “Oh, she’s feisty. Finally, someone that’s a match for Ashton.”

Ashton did not dignify that with a response. Instead, to Margo, he bared his teeth and hissed, “This is not about you, it is about Luke. You need to stay out of it.”

“Well, come on now, Ashton.” Calum, like Luke, had decided to remain standing while the other two vampires sat. Well, Michael lounged, and Ashton perched as if poised to jump off the edge of his seat. From his position behind Ashton, Calum placed a large hand on his shoulder. “It’s a little about her. Luke should decide if he wants to tell her or not.”

At that, every eye turned to look at Luke. He was looming over Margo protectively, but not in a way that suggested he expected his family members to attack. He was obviously not afraid for her safety. It was rather like he wanted her out of the conversation more than anything else.

For what seemed like a full minute, Margo believed Luke wouldn’t share this secret. She feared that months of sharing everything with each other had culminated to this one moment, this one Big Thing that she wasn’t allowed to know.

Thankfully, he sighed and sunk into a seat next to her. “My brothers think you and I have mated.”

Admittedly, Margo’s knowledge of vampire mating was basal. She knew, of course, that Luke had every intention of mating her. You’re it for me, he had told her a few months before. It had terrified her, but she couldn’t deny that her feelings for him, their feelings for each other, ran deep. To her knowledge, however, they hadn’t taken that step yet. Even if they had, she wasn’t sure that was something they needed to discuss with his brothers.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” Margo began slowly, keeping her eyes leveled with Ashton’s. “But isn’t whether or not we’ve mated between the two of us?”

“No,” Ashton replied with a bitter chuckle. “No matter what you and my idealistic brother like to think. This is a matter for a clan. Luke cannot handle taking his mate by himself.”

Seeing the look of confusion on Margo’s face, Michael took pity on her and began to explain. “Luke is still very young. He has only witnessed one vampire mating in his lifetime, and even then he wasn’t privy to our procedures. Mating when you aren’t familiar with the methods–well that could have dangerous consequences.”

Michael’s eyes drifted pointedly towards her neck where Luke’s bite marks from the previous night were on full display. With the excitement of the morning, she had forgotten to cover them. She slapped a hand over them; then, her color deepened in embarrassment.

She turned to Luke, expecting him to respond, but he was lost somewhere deep in his own thoughts. When he didn’t, she spoke for him. “It was an accident,” She insisted, even though she had a feeling she didn’t quite understand the repercussions of Luke biting her neck.

Michael leaned forward, voice dripping with a dangerous edge. “When it comes to predators, darling, one small accident is all it takes to kill you.”

Finally, Luke spoke, words coming out in a snarl. “I would never kill her.” Shock and anger registered on his face. He was obviously taken aback by Michael’s suggestion.

“Not purposely,” Michael amended. “But your carelessness could get her killed nonetheless.”

“It’s a good thing then that Margo and I aren’t mating.” Luke snarled. He was out of his chair in an instant, glaring down at his brothers.

“Luke–“ this time it was Calum popping in with an argument.

Luke cut him off. “I’m fine, Calum. Now, if you guys want to do something other than have this conversation while you’re in town, let me know. If not, I’ll see the next time I’m at home.”

Michael threw his hands up in frustration. “This is what you get for siring a vampire amid the French Revolution, Ashton,” he grumbled. But he made no more protest as he walked towards the door.

Calum turned to follow him.

Ashton was the last to leave. “I just want you to be safe,” he said, eyeing Margo. What she had mistaken for disgust earlier was now clearly weariness and reluctance. It was as if he wanted to trust her, but was afraid to.

Luke gripped her shoulder and squeezed. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself. As is Margo.”

They held eye contact for a minute, having a silent conversation Margo couldn’t follow. Finally, Ashton conceded and followed his brothers out of the house.

:: ::

It happened in herbology.

That morning, Margo had woken up in her own bed feeling a little dizzy and disoriented. These spells had been happening more frequently, but she chalked it up to stress and dismissed it. She should have told Luke, but he was prone to worrying over the smallest of things. Plus, it had only been a week and a half since his brothers had shown up at his door unannounced, and, no matter how “good” he claimed to be doing, she could still see something bothered him.

So, she didn’t think twice about chugging her weight in tea and going to work. The dizziness plagued her throughout the day. Two hours into her three-hour herbology lab, she was standing in front of the class explaining how gymnosperms grew and reproduced. It was imperative for her students to understand plant life on a cellular level if they were ever to successfully manipulate plant growth.

The funny thing was - she felt it coming on. She felt herself grow dizzier and heard her words begin to slur. She chose to fight through it. Then, one minute she was talking about fertilization and pollen cones, the next, her feet give way below her, and the world went dark.

. . . . . .

When she opened her eyes the first time, the world was hazy. She clearly made out an IV drip bag and an oddly familiar man standing at the edge of her bed. His arms were crossed, and he looked like he was there as some sort of protection detail. Margo had the distinct feeling he was there for her. Whether it was to protect her from someone or to protect someone from her, she did not know.

“Hey. Look who’s awake,” came an oddly chipper voice from somewhere outside of her line of sight. Margo almost turned to search for it, but there was a pressure on her left hand. She turned to that instead.

Luke. He was staring at her with worry in his baby blues, gripping her hand tightly.

“What,” she opened her mouth to ask what had happened. Then, a cool hand she knew had to be vampiric brushed her curls from her face and shushed her.

“Try to sleep if you can,” it said. “We'll explain everything later.”

She knew that voice, much like she knew the man standing at the edge of her bed. Before she could search her mind for their identity, something pulled her under, and the world went black again.

. . . . . .

The next time she came to, the man was still at her bedside, arms crossed, watching her intently. Her brain felt less foggy this time, and she instantly recognized the man as, “Calum.”

With the tiniest of motions, Calum quirked his lips upwards in the ghost of a smirk. She wondered if he was comfortable standing ramrod straight like that. He looked like he hadn’t moved since she last opened her eyes.

It took him snickering for her to realize she had said that last thought aloud. “I like this position.” He said. “I’ve got clear eyes on everything in the room.”

“Not the door,” Margo pointed out obviously, gesturing to the large door looming behind him. That was what it took for Margo to realize that, despite the drip IV, she was not in a hospital room. This was someone’s house.

Calum shrugged. “That’s what Mikey’s for.”

She noticed Michael then, sitting in a loveseat underneath a large window. It was nighttime, and heavy blackout curtains were pushed aside to reveal what looked like deep woods. He had a Nintendo DS in his hand and was obviously more focused on the game than the other two people in the room.

“Don’t let Calum fool you,” he said, fingers still moving furiously on the buttons of the game. “I do not give a rats ass about security and espionage. At least, not as much Calum and Ashton do.”

He said all this without ever looking up from the small device in her hand.

“Espionage?” She croaked out.

Michael nodded, blissfully unaware of Calum’s glare. “Calum’s the family spy.”

Margo eyed Calum. When she had first seen him, she had believed him to be the muscle of the group. The way he exuded danger made Michael’s words seem less like a joke–as if Calum really was some vampire spy. She didn’t have time to think on this, however, because the dark mahogany door swung open to reveal Luke with Ashton flanking him.

Luke rushed immediately to her side. She didn’t miss how haggard he looked. Briefly, she wondered how long she had been in this bed. However long that was had obviously taken a toll on Luke. Vampires, as far as she knew, did not get tired, but there were unmistakable bags under his eyes, and his pale skin seemed lighter under the harsh overhead lights. She reached out to him, and he knelt at her bedside and slotted his hand into hers.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as his thumb gently rubbed circles on the back of her hand.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She tried to shit up, but a palm came to rest on her shoulder, stopping her. “Don’t try to do too much too quickly,” Ashton warned, gently pushing her back down.

She obeyed, hoping that it would make them more agreeable with what she was about to ask next. The question had been on her mind since she awoke the first time. She had to know, “What happened?”

She remembered feeling dizzy in her herbology class, but not much else.

Furtive glances were exchanged around the room as everyone, even Michael, turned their attention to Luke. Luke’s focus was on her. He looked as if those were the last words he’d wanted to hear from her. The longer everyone took to acknowledge her question, the more she wondered if she should have waited. Perhaps this was something Luke was uncomfortable talking about around his brothers.

She slipped her hand out of his so she could brush his hair out of his face.

“It’s okay.” Despite how weak her voice was, she tried to convey all the love she had for him in those two words. Whatever it was, they would work through it.

He leaned into her palm. “You tell her Calum,” He eventually said, shifting all attention to the 6 ft vampire looming over her.

Calum uncrossed his arms and braced them against the foot of the bed. Dark brown eyes told her the story would be emotionally exhausting.

“I came to UoA a month ago to visit Luke.”

Margo’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t heard anything about this visit.

“He didn’t know I was coming. I got into town then tracked his scent.”

“It’s a kink of his,” Michael interrupted with an easy grin. He had abandoned his DS in favor of paying attention to the story. With everyone in the room on the wrong side of somber, she welcomed his quips. “He likes to pop up out of nowhere and scare the holy hell out of people.”

Calum ignored him and continued on. “I followed his scent straight to the Gamma Nu house. When I got there, I assumed that perhaps he was just inside with some witch. We’re all aware of Luke’s. . .”

He trailed off as if afraid of offending her, and she laughed. “Propensity to be a hoe?” She finished for him. When she had first met Luke, he was slipping out of her housemate's room with no shirt on. She was no stranger to his promiscuous behavior.

Calum smiled, amused at her choice of words. “Propensity to be a hoe yes. But, when I listened in, he didn’t seem to be anywhere inside. Instead, I found you. You were sitting at your desk buried in some book about potions and muttering to yourself. I watched you for hours trying to figure out how Luke’s scent was so intermingled with yours. I couldn’t find where your scent ended, and his began. I knew, of course, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t think Luke would be stupid enough to take a mate without contacting one of us first.”

At that, he shot a look at Luke. Luke grimaced, ashamed. Margo ran her hand through his hair again in a gesture of assurance, then looked to Calum to continue.

Ashton did instead. He was still at her shoulder, looking down at her as he spoke, “Margo, what do you know about vampire mating?”

“I know that it’s instigated with a mark, like the one on my chest.” The hand that was not in Luke’s hair came up to rest on her chest, touching the mark through her shirt. “That’s the physical aspect of it. There is a mental and emotional aspect to it as well.” Margo trailed off. She didn’t know much about said mental and emotional aspects. She figured Luke would explain those to her when they decided to take the next step.

Michael spoke next, now at the edge of his seat. She remembered Luke’s mention of his bond with someone named Crystal. Perhaps he was their resident expert on bonding. “This is how a bond works. If a vampire has the intention of mating someone, and that person has the intention of accepting said bond, when he bites that person, he’ll be able to feel the bond form from inside him. If he lets it, the bond will wash over both parties like a wave. Then, it is up to the bitten to accept the bond. This act deepens the mental and emotional connection of a couple. In rare instances, the couple will be compatible enough to hear each other's thoughts and feel each other’s emotions. Even when they aren’t as compatible, these bonds are nearly impossible to break. That’s why bonds can never be between strangers and can never be nonconsensual. It’s kind of like your magic in the way that it senses what both parties want, and creates that for them.”

“Luke,” Calum picked up, “has wanted to mate you for a very long time now. And judging by the way his biology is behaving, I’m guessing you wanted to mate him as well. Yet, every time he bit you and that bond began forming, he would suppress it.”

Margo glanced over to Luke, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Which ended up confusing his biology.” Calum continued. “Driving him to want to be near you, to be in you, to bite you, to complete the bond by any means necessary. It’s why he was drinking from you every time you had sex. It’s why you fainted. He took too much blood too quickly, and your system couldn’t handle it. Instances like this are rare, and usually lead to obsessive behavior on the part of the vampire.”

“But Luke wasn’t obsessive,” Margo pointed out. She had dated wizards more obsessive than him.

“Not where you could see,” Calum said.

Luke dropped his forehead to the bed, perhaps to avoid feeling the eyes on him. He was ashamed of whatever Calum had to say next.

“I followed you both for days before calling in Ashton and Michael as reinforcement. On the nights you spent apart, Luke spent them standing outside your window. He started making up theology classes because he didn’t want you to know he had spent your entire TA period sitting in a car outside of the greenhouse, straining to hear your heartbeat. Worst of all, he stopped hunting and started getting all his blood from you.”

“What?” Margo croaked out. Luke looked up then, and she couldn’t miss the welling of tears in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” He said solemnly. “We have only been dating for what, almost a  year now? It is way too early for us to mate. I was hoping that if I ignored it, maybe it would go away.”

“The bond can be suppressed, Luke. But not as long as you keep drinking from her.” Ashton grumbled. Then, with a pointed look at Margo, he added, “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Luke answered for her. “She’s young. She hasn’t even finished her degree yet. I can’t just shackle her to me forever.”

“Let her speak, Luke,” Calum ordered.

With every eye on Margo, she wasn’t sure what to say. Luke was the love of her life, and she wanted more than anything to be mated to him. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t make a difference if it happened that moment or in a year when she had her degree.

You are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded - since once he put that mark upon your throat.

She bitterly remembered the words of Bram Stoker. Time moved differently for her and Luke, she had always known that. Where she wanted to rush, he took his time. This was no different.

She tried to remind herself that, as Luke said, it was forever. Repeated exposure to his venom through a mating mark would expose her to super-powered vampiric proteins, probiotics, and antibodies that would stop her aging and make her impossible to kill. She wouldn’t be a vampire per se, but something else. A hybrid between what she was now and what he was. These were rare, she knew, as vampires and witches were not used to coming together for more than politics and sex. Perhaps an extra year of normalcy was what it would take to give Luke the peace of mind about changing her.

“It’s fine,” she finally said. “We can wait.”

She brought her hand down to where Luke’s rested on the bed and squeezed gently. “What about Luke, though? What’s going to happen if we don’t bond?”

“Nothing,” responded Calum with an easy shrug. “So long as he starts hunting again and stops drinking from you.”

“Like forever?” Margo asked, then blush at how dejected she sounded.

Michael laughed, but said, “Until he’s ready to mate you, yeah.”

That made her stomach sink. It was fine. As much as she liked the biting, she could go a year without it. “Is that going to be hard for you?” She relayed the question to Luke this time.

“It’s fine. The boys will take me hunting. It will help.”

“How long are you guys staying?” As she asked this question, Margo took note of how the air in the room lightened. Ashton left her side to stand by Michael’s loveseat under the window, Michael picked up his game, and Calum’s shoulders relaxed just a little. (She was beginning to think that relaxed shoulders were all she would get from him.)

Ashton answered her question, still staring out into the darkness outside the window. “Not sure. I’ve accepted a position teaching classic Greek literature, so quite a while I think.”

“What?” Margo asked, surprised. Ashton didn’t look like the scholarly type. “Are you qualified to teach that?”

Ashton scoffed in response. “I sure hope so. I was there.”

Margo’s mouth dropped. “Wait, how old-”

Luke cut her off. “Don’t ask a vampire how old they are, babe. They’re not fond of that.”

Margo gave Luke a look that let him know she would definitely be asking that question again, but she would at least do Ashton the courtesy of asking at a later date.

She was almost all caught up now, but there was one question still on her mind.

“Where am I?”

All four vampires laughed.

“Oh!” exclaimed Calum, remembering that he left out that little detail. “It’s our house. It’s in the woods behind UoA. Hospitals kind of cause sensory overload for vampires, so when you fainted, health services allowed Ashton to bring you here.”

“What, just like that?” asked Margo, confused.

“Well, Ashton has a medical degree, so it’s not like you weren’t in good hands.”

Of course. Vampires were fond of their multiple degrees.

“So y’all thought ‘lemme buy a house, so we don’t have to go to a hospital.”

Calum snickered at that, but Ashton was the one who answered. “I’ve owned this house for years. Since a little after the school was built. I thought it would be nice to have if I ever decided to come and get another degree. For all intents and purposes, it belongs to the clan now.”

“It belongs to you too,” Michael added. “You’re family now, whether you like it or not.”

Margo matched his grin. Raised in a household that was always just her and her mother, she dreamed of having a big family. As far as family went, Calum, Ashton, and Michael seemed more than perfect.

--

end notes: i can’t believe how obsessed i am with this series lmao! i’ve already started writing part 3!! anyway, i hope you like cal, mikey & ashton in this one. let me know what you think! 

tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @sweetcherrymike / @hereforlukescruff / @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash / @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

[pocket-luv101]

Across Time || Chapter 9

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || (Ch.9) ||

“We should hurry to the next village before it gets dark.” Kuro said and glanced at the sun. His behaviour was strange and Mahiru thought he appeared nervous. Usually, he would walk at a leisurely pace but now he seemed impatient to react the next village. He wanted to ask him if there was something on his mind. “Hopefully, they have an inn.”

“I don’t mind sleeping under the stars another night.” Mahiru enjoyed camping with him. He noticed how Kuro’s brows furrow and he wanted to ease the lines from his face. He stopped himself because he didn’t know if Kuro would be comfortable with him touching him so casually. “I still have a lot of cup noodles left we can eat so food won’t be a problem.”

“I think we should sleep in a proper bed for once. You always lecture me and say we shouldn’t have noodles so often.” He said, confusing Mahiru more. Since he introduced him to the food, Kuro would ask him to make noodles every night. He stopped when Mahiru placed his hand on his arm. Concerned filled his brown eyes when he looked up at him.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to camp outside tonight? Is there a dangerous demon in the woods? I’ll understand so please tell me. I’m just going to worry myself more if you keep it to yourself.” Mahiru wanted Kuro to be comfortable enough to talk to him. He didn’t know how much he should push him though. “Do you know something about this forest?”

“Not the forest but the…” He trailed off, not knowing how much more he should say. Kuro was afraid he would change his mind about him. Mahiru accepted that he was half demon and didn’t judge him for that. Yet, there were things that he hadn’t told him. He didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation either. “I’ll tell you when we’re alone and safe.”

“Okay.” Mahiru was a little disappointed that he didn’t tell him what was on his mind. He thought that they were growing closer after everything they’ve been through over the past couple weeks. At least Kuro promised he would explain everything later. “I don’t sense the shard ahead of us. This might be an uneventful day. We haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“I wouldn’t mind if we can have more days like this.” He looked forward but he stared at Mahiru in the corner of his eyes. Kuro enjoyed travelling with him and simply speaking with him. Even before he was cursed by his brother, he would often eat alone. He told Mahiru he loved his instant noodles but he also liked when he cooked.

A strong breeze passed them and Mahiru placed his hand over his shards. For a moment, he thought the breeze was created by a demon but nothing followed the wind. He let out a breath of relief and looked back to Kuro. A soft laugh escaped him when he saw the leaves in his hair. He reached up and said: “Hold still, Kuro. You have so many leaves in your hair and you look like a tree.”

Mahiru gently picked the leaves that had blown into his ghostly, blue hair. His fingers brushed against his ears and they wiggled slightly. “Are you ticklish?”

“Do you need another way to subdue me when you can already use an enchantment?” It wasn’t a direct answer but Mahiru learned something new about him. He smiled to himself and tickled his ear again. The action made the corner of Kuro’s lips lift into a smile. Mahiru thought his smile was endearing. Something caught Kuro’s attention and he said, “I can hear bells but it’s not the charm you gave me.”

“Do you think it’s a traveller or a demon?” His senses weren’t as sharp as Kuro’s so he didn’t know the direction of the sound. He looked around them but there wasn’t anyone nearby. He remembered how uneasy Kuro was earlier and he wondered if it was related. Mahiru couldn’t feel the presence of a jewel fragment so he thought it would be better to run if it was a demon.

When the wind blew again, he noticed a bell hanging from a tree. Mahiru walked to it and lightly took the sacred sutra into his hand. He recognized the spell written onto the paper because his family owned a shrine. His uncle would often hang them around their home. He looked beyond the tree and saw that there were more. He followed the charms until they were standing in front of a staircase.

“It looks like a shrine. The map didn’t show a shrine in this forest. How about we go investigate? Maybe they will let us stay and we don’t need to rush to the next village.” Mahiru suggested. Before he could answer, he took Kuro’s hand and lead him forward. He was curious about the shrine. While he didn’t sense a jewel shard, something drew him to it.

“You like to decide everything on your own. Sometimes, it’s better to let things be. Can’t deal.” He said but he followed him up the stairs. Kuro moved closer to his side and he reached his hand towards him. For a moment, Mahiru thought he intended to wrap his arm around his waist. The thought made his heart quicken but he didn’t pull away. He placed his hand on Mahiru’s bike. “I’ll carry this for you. Climbing a thousand steps is already troublesome without this thing.”

“Oh,” He didn’t know why he felt a little disappointed. He knew he should’ve been thankful that he was being considerate. Mahiru handed the bike to him and Kuro effortlessly lifted it onto his shoulder. He carried both his bike and heavy bag and it reminded him of how strong Kuro was. He remembered the times he carried him on his back.

“I hope they won’t turn us away because I’m half demon. The only thing worse than climbing all these steps is going down them.” He said. Mahiru giggled when he would’ve been irritated before. After spending time with him, he learned that he often complained but it was mostly words. Kuro was a reliable person and he would go out of his way to help people.

“They won’t turn us away. If they do, I’ll give them a very long lecture about hospitality.” Kuro could easily picture him lecturing monks and chuckled at the image. He hoped they would find a safe place to stay before it became dark. He looked up at the sun that would be setting soon. “I live in a shrine so I rarely visit them. I’ve been away from home so it’s nostalgic to see one again.”

They reached the top of the stairs but there weren’t many people like he expected there would be. He placed the bike down and asked: “Where are the caretakers and mikos?”

“Maybe the shrine is abandoned. The building looks old but we can stay here for the night. We should look around for wood to make a fire.” Kuro nodded and followed him towards the entrance. While the shrine was abandoned, he could see that Mahiru was very respectful of the building. The door appeared like it would break easily and he slid it open carefully.

They stepped inside and Mahiru looked around the empty room. He left the large doors open so sunlight and fresh air could enter the shrine. Mahiru wondered if the shrine’s residents simply moved to a new place or if something forced them to leave. On the alter, he found a few scrolls. “If these are sacred text, we should take them to another shrine for safe keeping.”

“They didn’t take these scrolls with them so they might not be important.” Kuro unfurled one. The scroll was filled with illustrations. He skimmed the text and said, “It looks like a training regimen to help strengthen your spiritual power.”

“This picture…” Mahiru ran his fingers over the image of an archer with a glowing arrow. He thought of the bright light that appeared in their previous few fights. “Spiritual power. I never understood what that light could be but this might be the answer! These scrolls might help me become stronger and I’ll be able to help you in battles. I’ll go over these scrolls after you give me another lesson on fighting.”

Mahiru had asked Kuro to spar with him and teach him how to fight every week. He didn’t want his weakness to hold him back.  Kuro leaned closer to him so he could read the scroll. They were so close that he could feel his breath brush his cheek. “According to this, your power is connected to your will, compassion and heart. I don’t someone more stubborn than you.”

“Is that your way of telling me that I have a strong will? You need to work on your wording.” Mahiru knew what he truly meant and smiled softly. He saw strength in him and he wanted to meet those expectations. He rolled the scroll and tucked it into his bag. “We fought and trained a lot so let’s use today to rest as much as we can.”

“I have been suggesting that for days now. I’m glad you finally agree with me.” Kuro said but there was a hint of worry in his eyes. He looked back towards the sunset and hoped the night would pass peacefully.

“Kuro, you can’t sleep with your blanket over your head. You’re going to overheat.” Mahiru warned him. They laid out their sleeping bag in the main room to sleep for the night. He wanted to stay up a little longer to read the scrolls. Once he learned about spiritual power, he could practise it better. His eyes wandered to Kuro next to him.

“Should you be reading so late at night?” He asked after he lifted the blanket slightly. Mahiru could only see his red eyes in the small gap beneath the covers. “It’s a new moon so there’s very little light for you to read. You should be resting too.”

“I’m fine. I won’t be up much longer and I lit these candles so I can read.” Mahiru brushed away his worry. “You seemed uneasy this morning. You said you’ll tell me about why.”

“… This place reminds you of your home. Do you miss it?” He asked. Mahiru questioned if that was what was truly bothering him earlier. He seemed distracted even before they found the shrine. Even though that thought passed his mind, he didn’t confront him with them. He trusted Kuro and he likely had a good reason he didn’t want to tell him right away,

“Sometimes I would miss my Uncle and home. But I’m never lonely because I have you.” Mahiru put aside the scroll and laid down. He rolled onto his side so he could smile at Kuro. He was still hidden beneath his blanket so he couldn’t see him. “What about you, Kuro? Do you have anyone you miss?”

“My parents died long before I was pinned to the tree so my siblings are the only family I have left. I have seven siblings. You already met one and I doubt you’ll want to meet the others. I don’t know where they are now or if they feel the same as Tsubaki.” Mahiru wanted to comfort him and held out his hand to him. He lightly placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Most people don’t hold grudges for as long as Tsubaki has. Maybe one of your siblings has forgiven you and you can talk to them. It’s weird speaking to a blanket so can you come out and talk with me?” He went to poke Kuro playfully. Mahiru paused when a butterfly landed on his finger. He thought its wings appeared strange and he could see his reflection in them. “What is this?”

The butterfly began to multiply and he was quickly overwhelmed by them. In his shock, he let out a small yelp. Mahiru heard fabrics ruffled and guessed that it was Kuro moving. He couldn’t see him because there were so many bugs butterflies between them. Blindly, he reached through the wall of butterflies to take Kuro’s hand. The moment he could feel his warmth, he dragged him away.

“I thought we would have a relaxing night but it looks like a demon is here as well. We didn’t sense anything before but those butterflies are strange. Can you smell a demon nearby?” The insects were swarming them and he wasn’t able to see Kuro clearly.

He took him into a room and closed the door behind them before the butterflies could enter. Mahiru took a deep breath and relaxed. “I like butterflies but those were too much. Did they seem strange to you too, Kuro? Maybe they’re being controlled by a demon.”

“I didn’t get a good look at them.” Kuro eased his blanket off his head and Mahiru’s eyes widened. At first, he didn’t recognize him. His hair was now black and he no longer had cat ears. He ran his fingers through his dark hair to search for his ears. “Can you stop staring at me like that? You’re not going to find my ears. I’m human now.”

“What do you mean?” Mahiru hands dropped from his hair. His eyes were still the same and he focused on their red hue. “Is this the reason you were so nervous this morning?”

“Half demons like me will have certain triggers that will bring out our human or demon side.” Kuro explained. He could see how confused Mahiru was and Kuro wished he had the courage to explain it to him earlier. “On the first new moon of the month, I will be a human until the sun rises again. Since we’re more vulnerable as a human, half demons rarely tell others when they become human.”

“But I’m not like the others, Kuro!” He yelled and his voice was a mixture of hurt and anger. Mahiru’s hands tightened on his lap. “We’re a team. You should’ve told me about this earlier. I never would’ve insisted we investigate this shrine if I knew you were going to lose your power. I thought we were friends but you can’t open up to me.”

“Mahiru, I’m sorry. I never had someone to rely on before you.” He said softly. The remorse in his voice made Mahiru forget his anger. Kuro wasn’t able to finish his apology before there was a strong gust of wind. The doors blew open and a butterfly demon stood over them. He wasn’t able to sense it earlier because its scent was sweeter than other demons.

Kuro cursed softly and pulled him away from the demon. Even though he didn’t have his powers, he wanted to protect Mahiru. The butterfly created powerful gales of wind that cut like razors. They dodged its next attack and ran out of the room. He felt Mahiru tugged on his hand lightly. “We need to go back to the main hall for my arrows. Running will be too dangerous because there are more demons in the forest. Thinking simply, we should stay and fight. It’s my turn to protect you now.”

Kuro didn’t know how to respond to his words and resolve. For most of his life, he fought alone without anyone to depend on. Warmth filled Kuro’s chest but there was a hint of dread as well. He didn’t want Mahiru to be hurt protecting him. As he hesitated, Mahiru took Kuro through the hallways.

It was difficult for them to find their way around the building with so many butterflies around them. They blocked their vision but they managed to return to the main room. Mahiru grabbed his quiver and pushed Kuro behind him. He lifted his arrow and aimed it towards the door. “Stay behind me, Kuro.”

“I wasn’t planning on standing in front of your arrow. I’m going to borrow one though.” Kuro slid an arrow out of his quiver. He couldn’t use his claws or fangs but he refused to make Mahiru fight alone. The demon was strong enough to mask its presence. He hoped they could ward off the demon until morning when his demon powers returned.

The panels above them began to rattle before they fell down over them. He jumped aside from the falling debris and hastily aimed his arrow at the ceiling. Mahiru cursed when butterflies burst out of the opening. He couldn’t see if the demon was hidden among the butterflies and he didn’t want to waste his arrows on small bugs.

“I heard tales of a half demon and human collecting jewel shards. I didn’t think it was true that a demon would travel with a human until I saw you two enter the shrine. How fortunate for me that your demon is a human as well.” The butterfly demon landed in front of them. “Give me your jewel shards and I won’t eat you. I’ll simply transform you into servants like these butterflies.”

“These butterflies were once…” Mahiru wasn’t able to complete his sentence because the implication turned his stomach. His hands shook as anger rose within him. The demon laughed and waved her hands. A powerful gust of wind followed the motion and they were almost knocked into the air. The butterflies came between them and Mahiru desperately tried to grab Kuro’s hand.

He felt his fingers for a fleeting moment and then they were torn apart. Mahiru fell onto the ground but he recovered quickly. He called Kuro’s name and his heart dropped when he saw that the butterflies had lifted into the air. They circled Kuro until they created a solid cocoon around him. “What are you doing? Put him down this instant!”

He tried to call Mahiru’s name but he doubted he could hear him through the thick walls. Kuro slammed his fist against the cocoon. The air was toxic and his lungs began to burn. He could hear Mahiru’s voice beneath him. “I’ll get you down, Kuro.”

“A tiny human like you can’t do anything. Even if you free him before he turns into butterflies, the toxin will kill him. Now, hand over the jewel shards and I’ll make your death painless.” She flew beside Kuro. Mahiru lifted his bow again but he didn’t aim for the woman. He aimed for the base of the cocoon instead. His only thought was to free Kuro.

He focused on rescuing Kuro and a soft glow appeared around his arrow. He released his arrow and he thought he missed. The arrow struck the space next to the base of the cocoon. Mahiru nocked another arrow but then he saw the light from his arrow move over the cocoon. The silk walls sealing Kuro began to unravel and he fell out. Mahiru rushed to catch Kuro before the fall could hurt him.

He caught him against his chest and slowly lowered him to the ground. “Kuro, are you okay? Please, talk to me!”

Another blow from the demon’s wind almost tore them apart again but Mahiru clung to Kuro. He hugged him tightly and protected him. Kuro’s breathing was shallow but he helped him to his feet. Mahiru remembered that he saw a small stronghold where they could hide. He pulled his arm over his shoulder and ran from the demon. As he left the room, he grabbed his bag.

The stronghold was at the end of the hall and Mahiru ran to it as fast as he could. He was worried that the poison would flow through more of Kuro’s body if he moved too much. They managed to reach the room before the demon could catch them. The room was made of stone so it would be difficult for the demon to break through the ceiling again.

He lowered him to the ground and then searched the room for anything he could use to block the door. He pushed a few boxes in front of the entrance but he didn’t know if they would be effective. Mahiru returned to Kuro and folded his jacket into a pillow for him. When he knelt next to him, Kuro wrapped his hand around his wrist. “Stab my sword into the door’s frame and it’ll keep her from coming in.”

“Okay.” Mahiru didn’t question him before he pulled the sword from his waist. He followed his instruction and thrust the sword into the wood. The tessaiga was enchanted so demons couldn’t touch it. He rushed back to Kuro and searched through his bag. He didn’t bring medicine for poison but he hoped he would find something that could help him.

Tears of frustration filled his eyes and he tossed his bag to the ground. His hands tightened into fists and his nails dug into skin. After all the times Kuro had saved him, he couldn’t do the same for him now that he was human. His mind raced to find a way to cure the poison in him. He was pulled from his thoughts when cold fingers brushed against his cheeks. “Kuro, your hands are freezing.”

“Why are you crying?” He asked in a hoarse voice.

Mahiru didn’t know how to answer him because there were several reasons behind his tears. He was angry at his weakness and that he might lose Kuro. He placed his hand over Kuro’s and pressed it against his cheek more. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you.”

“I’ll be able to fight off this poison after the sun rises. I don’t know how long that will be but I’ll be okay. Don’t cry.” His tears pulled on Kuro’s heart and he didn’t want to see him so sad. Mahiru took out a napkin and carefully wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You smell nice, Mahiru.”

He wasn’t certain if the poison made Kuro delusional but Mahiru blushed. He placed Kuro’s head on his lap so he would be comfortable. The scroll rolled out of his bag and lightly bumped against his foot. In the corner of his eyes, Mahiru read the text. Send your spiritual power through the person’s body to purify the poison within them.

Hope swelled in Mahiru and he picked up the scroll to read over the instructions. He wasn’t certain how he could summon his spiritual power though. The other times he used his spiritual powers, it had been unconscious. Mahiru cupped Kuro’s cheeks and closed his eyes. He thought of the other times the glow appeared and how each time he wanted to save others.

A warmth flowed between them and Mahiru opened his eyes. His hands were glowing lightly and Kuro seemed to be breathing easier. As relief flooded over him, a smile spread across his face. He was resting on his lap so Mahiru couldn’t hug him like he wanted to. He grabbed Kuro’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Does it hurt, Kuro?”

“It’s warm.” He mumbled before he closed his eyes. His breathing became even and Mahiru knew that he was sleeping. He had a peaceful expression and he wasn’t in pain. Mahiru ran his fingers through his dark hair where his ears would usually be. He was more vulnerable as a human but he still tried to protect him. Guilt clutch at his heart but he concentrated on healing him.

Mahiru leaned down and kissed his forehead softly, “I’ll become strong and protect you, Kuro.”

Mahiru leaned against the wall and slept soundly. The sounds of the doors rattling the door woke Kuro alone. He looked down at his claws and knew that it was morning. He was careful not to move him as he sat up. He used a lot of his energy to heal the poison in him. They were both exhausted after the ordeal. Yet, Kuro forced himself to stand.

“Thank you, Mahiru.” He whispered. Kuro walked to the door and pulled the sword from the door. He wanted to defeat the demon before Mahiru woke. He deserved to rest. Kuro closed the door behind him and faced the demon. “You made Mahiru cry.”

[sockknitterporg]

Make sure your self care advice about healthy versus toxic friendships is not ableist!

Almost every chronically ill person I know has lost multiple friends and loved ones due to people:

becoming impatient with them for being sick

being unwilling to accept the realities of their illness (which often involves cancelling plans or not hanging out as often as able-bodied friends)

getting convinced that some fad they read about on Facebook will cure their incurable disease and refusing to take no for an answer

expecting them to make the greater effort to keep the friendship alive without taking into account just how much effort it takes just to survive a chronic illness

and similar reasons.

Yet I constantly see advice tagged "self care" or "end toxic friendships" that leaves disabled people in the dust. Some advice is so harmful to us that you may as well add "and don't be friends with cripples, they're not ever good friends!"

I know these suggestions are well intentioned. But good intentions don't matter if you hurt someone in the process. I'm going to go through the suggestions that hurt us the most and explain why they're harmful, and what you can do to ensure a chronically ill person is being a good friend to you.

Next time you see a post advising these things, speak up for us! And don't just assume people will know not to hold us to the same standards as abled people. Younger teens may not know what they should and shouldn't expect in friendships. Older teens and adults might not know what's reasonable to expect of a chronically ill person.

At the absolute worst, you may simply not be in a position to sustain a friendship with someone with a chronic illness. If it comes to that, that's a real shame, but which would you rather hear? "Hey, I have an issue that conflicts with your needs, I don't think we can be friends," or "You jerk, you're a toxic friend! I can't believe you don't even care about me!" Especially when the second option usually comes with public humiliation and the offended party driving away many of your friends by fracturing your entire friend group into two 'sides'. This hits us especially hard because due to the isolation of being chronically ill, we don't have that many friends to begin with.

So, on to the list!

“A true friend will make time for you when you need it, day or night.”

Most chronic illnesses come with a chronic fatigue component. And chronic fatigue is not "like that one time you stayed up super late". It's not "like that but kinda worse". Chronic fatigue is when you go to bed at a reasonable or even early hour, get your full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, and wake up just as tired as when you went to bed; and this has happened every night for literal years. It's honestly beyond explanation how it feels, how every waking moment is like some kind of creative torture and nothing in the world can relieve it.

Now try to imagine what little poor quality sleep you get is interrupted. This isn't a question of "oh no, my beauty sleep!" When I am woken up by the telephone, I have extreme cognitive difficulties for some time. Again, this is above and beyond "not had my coffee yet," I mean a clinical condition that has led to clothes in the dishwasher, the phone in the freezer, and sometimes outright dangerous mistakes like pouring a cup of drain cleaner instead of mouthwash (fortunately the smell got my attention before I put it in my mouth).

But even during the day, we may not be as 'available' as we seem. Many people think that disabled people live a life of leisure, lounging around and never doing anything. This only makes sense if you refuse to count the hours and days spent on the singular task known as "trying to stay alive". Abled people tend to not realise just how hard that is for those of us with disabled bodies.

Unlike other commitments like jobs or outings, we cannot reschedule the times when our bodies require extra care and attention. If I am having a flare, then I am having a flare until my body decides it's done having a flare.

Specialist appointments are often made several months in advance, and depending on an individual's situation missing them could be catastrophic. Just from my own experience, certain appointments were literally so important that missing one could have left me without access to any further medical care, without my income, and without my home!

I love to help and support my friends, but I also have to be realistic about when and how fast I'm able to respond to them. Depending on the severity of the situation, I might even be willing to sacrifice some of my health to respond faster, but that is a choice I have to make for myself based on my own knowledge of my body, not something you can demand.

A disabled true friend will make time for you as soon as they are reasonably able to. They will be eager to support you when you need them, but you need to understand their limitations. Being asked to postpone spending time with a chronically ill person isn't a sign that they care less about you, just a sign that their health isn't the greatest.

“A true friend will respect you and respect your schedule by never cancelling plans.”

Sometimes this suggestion will be made a little more gentle by adding "without good reason". And I know few chronically ill people cancel plans without good reason.

But many abled people get angry with us after the third or fourth cancellation. Accusations begin to fly that we're not cancelling for good reason, but whenever we simply don't feel like it or even because we secretly don't want to be friends at all.

The thing is, the keystone of all the various chronic illnesses is a thread of uncertainty weaving through our lives. Any time I make plans, I'm gambling against my disease, hoping I don't get a flare at a crucial moment. There is no way to know ahead of time how I'm going to feel on a given day. This is true of many, if not most chronic illnesses.

I make plans with my friends because I want to see them. I want to spend time with them! Unfortunately, I have a disease that does not care about my social life. You think it's inconvenient for you, think about how it must feel to actually be the one who's lost their health to this thing.

The alternative is not planning to do anything together at all, and that is a fast track to social isolation.

A disabled true friend looks forward to spending time with you, even if their illness makes them miss some of the things they planned to do with you or have to reschedule them sometimes.

“A true friend will remember details like your birthday and favourite colour, and never has to be reminded of things.”

I...don't know my phone number. I'm serious, my actual phone number. I have to open up my phone and check, every single time I need it. I don’t know my National Insurance Number (for Americans - it’s like a SSN), I have to keep that written down. I can barely remember my debit card PIN, and that’s just four numbers. Four numbers that I use nearly every single time I leave the house, and I still can’t remember them.

But you’re going to judge how much I care about you by expecting me to do well on a trivia memory test?

I don’t think abled people understand just how hard it can be to remember details when you’re battling a chronic illness. I literally have to write down and track every little thing like whether or not I’ve taken my meds, even whether or not I’ve eaten on a given day. It’s inevitable that I’m going to forget other things, too.

Judging whether or not I care about my friends on my ability to remember things is unfair, and frankly a little cruel. That’s not to say that I don’t give a damn about my friends, but the expectation that you should ‘never need to be reminded’ is unrealistic for someone with a disability. I ask my friends questions like “Is your birthday on the eighth or the twelfth?” or “Your favourite colour, was it purple or blue?” when I need information on the fly. When I’m at home at my desk, I actually have a little notebook that lists my friends’ basic information because my brain cannot retain information like a healthy person’s.

A disabled true friend will care about you and the little details about you that are important to you. But they may have to be reminded, or use reminders and notes to be able to keep a hold of that information!

“A true friend will never need to ‘take a break’ from your friendship. That’s a sure sign that you’re not really friends at all!”

Sometimes my health is worse than other times. Sometimes, as long as I take my meds and use my assistive devices, I’m basically fine. Sometimes I’m completely bedbound and barely able to speak. Sometimes my mental health is doing fine, even if my body isn’t great. Sometimes the existential horror of knowing my health will gradually get worse is enough to destroy me, even if my body is currently as close to fine as it ever gets.

Sometimes, when the stress of dealing with being chronically ill is eating me alive, I don’t want to burden other people with that--even my friends. Sometimes, my fatigue level is so high that all I can manage to add to a conversation is a few emoji and maybe an ‘ooh’ or an ‘ick’ here and there.

Sometimes, I just need some time to myself to deal with and process the whole mess that is trying to navigate life with a disability in a disability-hostile world.

These are not unreasonable things to ask for, and it doesn’t mean that I’m less interested in a friendship just because I need some space to deal with things on my own in my own time. The idea that someone should never need time on their own is toxic in and of itself, so let’s banish the idea that you need to be glued to your friends 24/7 in order to be ‘supportive’ or whatever else.

A disabled true friend will show you their friendship by spending time with you on the regular when they’re able to! But everyone needs a little bit of alone time now and again, and it doesn’t mean they’re uninterested in remaining friends if they need to be by themselves for a while.

“A true friend will always take your advice, and would never disagree with you.”

This is how you get an echo chamber. Even worse, for disabled people, this can actually lead to your disabled friend dying. And no, I’m not being overdramatic when I say that. I have had my friends--well intentioned and wholly meaning well--send me advice that could have literally killed me if I’d taken it. From herbal remedies (that would cause a fatal interaction with my medications) to diet changes (that my actual professional doctor said would give me malnutrition) to exercise routines (that my actual professional doctor, who did multiple years of medical school and graduated and has a license and everything, said would definitely cause lasting physical damage to my body)....

I get that you want to help your disabled friend feel better, but if you have a suggestion and they tell you it isn’t going to work, you have to respect them, respect their boundaries, and respect that they know their bodies and their limits--usually better than you do! Besides, wouldn’t a true friend respect their friends’ boundaries? Which is more important to you, your friend’s health and safety, or being right?

A disabled true friend will respect your opinion, but may need to reject suggestions or ideas that they know would be harmful to their health. And if you’re a true friend to them, you’ll respect their boundaries in return.

These are just a few of the toxic ‘suggestions’ that wind up causing disabled people serious amounts of harm.

This post is already massively long, so I shall clip it here, but next time you share a #SelfCare post about toxic friends, think about whether or not the suggestions are actually feasible for disabled people to live up to.

Many disabled people, myself included, are really fucking tired of losing our friend groups because people expect more than we’re capable of giving and then screech at us for being bad friends when we can’t keep up with people’s expectations.

If you’re at a place in your life where you’re not capable of accommodating a disabled person’s needs in your friend group, that’s honestly fine, but don’t destroy their reputation (and possibly their lives--many of us do not get out very much, and our ‘online friends’ are our only friends) by screaming about how they’re ‘toxic’ just because they slept through you messaging them or because they didn’t immediately jump on whatever ‘one weird trick’ you googled for their disease.

If you’re going to pass around info to try and end toxic friendships, make sure you’re not throwing disabled people under the bus along with it!

[sarcasticdebate]

after all we’ve endured

Relationship: Emori/John Murphy

Rating: E (... its makeup sex)

Summary: Emori has quickly learned that survival and life on Sanctum are very different than they had been on Earth. It’s good to return to something familiar. Even after so much time. 

[Post 6.03]

“Been a long time since we shared a bed.”

[AO3]

Night on Sanctum isn’t like night on Earth. The sky never quite fades to black like it’s supposed to. Instead it lingers in a deep shade of violet from the effects of two suns. Stars still break through the sky but they’re different from the ones Emori has known all her life. She knows it’s because they are hundreds of thousands of miles from the planet she was born on, but the unfamiliar lights overhead still leave Emori in a state of frightened awe. There’s no north star here, and the possibility of getting lost sits heavy on her mind. 

Some things aren’t so different though, apparently the days are only twenty seven minutes longer than on Earth, and Sanctum’s people have similar nightly routines. By anyone’s standards it’s well past the time to be in bed at this late hour. 

“Hey,” Emori says, shifting her gaze back to John after taking her fill of the view from the open window. “We should go to bed.” 

John’s spent most of the day brooding and Emori can’t blame him, he’d been dead for a couple of minutes this morning. The red in his eyes and the sudden gauntness of his face make it impossible to deny. 

“I’m not tired,” John replies and Emori has to refrain from rolling her eyes. He said that all the time on the Ring, during weeks filled with pacing in anxious circles in the dead of night followed by long days where he would do nothing but lie in bed. Emori has to remind herself that this is different. He’d been dead this morning. 

“I was unconscious most of the day, you’ll remember.” He reminds her too, as if she could forget. She can still feel the claminess of his skin under her palm, feels her heart spike with guilt every time her eyes catch on the bandage across his arm.  She reaches out to touch his hand, to confirm he’s warm now. Maybe she’s the one who needs sleep more. 

“Well there’s no point in sitting here in the dark,” she tries. Everyone else has cleared out to the rooms upstairs, and he stopped drinking an hour ago, too lazy to pour for himself. 

John lets his gaze rest on their held hands for a long moment before his eyes rise to meet hers and he offers a tight-lipped smile and stunted nod. 

He grunts as he stands, like someone twice his actual age, and slings his arm heavily over her shoulders as they make their way towards the stairs. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

“I’m not drunk, ‘Mori” John says, lying either to himself or her. Then straightening a bit when he realizes he gave himself away with the use of the nickname. “Maybe a little,” he admits, “I just don’t wanna dream.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She offers for the second time that day. Curiosity and worry have been burning inside since he woke up but she won’t push him. 

“Not yet,” he says, an improvement from the previous horrified ‘no’ of the afternoon. They make it up the stairs without any stumbles and trudge to the end of the hallway, all the other rooms already claimed. 

Under normal circumstances Emori would scout out the room given to them by these strangers, but it’s small, with a narrow bed as the only notable furnishing, and she’s just exhausted enough not to care. 

John flops onto the bed in a way that’s unsuitable for someone claiming not to be tired, but Emori knows him better than himself sometimes so she’s not surprised. He kicks off his boots carelessly. 

“Are you gonna stay here tonigh’?” The tiredness is creeping into his voice now. Emori shrugs off her jacket, lets it hang on the doorknob and sets her boots next to John’s. 

“Of course I am. Scooch over.” 

The bed is still narrow as she lies on it, but Emori thinks it is a poor attempt form Sanctum to get them to spend their nights apart. She molds her body to curl next to John’s and they fit. 

“Didn’t know if you would,” John admits to the ceiling, both of his arms still too injured to hold his weight on one side. Confusion rises above Emori’s exhaustion. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

John’s eyes fall closed but Emori doesn’t want to escape from this conversation, from whatever’s eating at him, she knows it will only cause problems. She tugs on his sleeve and his eyes open and turn to look at her. Bloodshot still, but softer too.

“Been a long time since we shared a bed.” 

It has been. Six months of clenching her blanket tight to herself to make up for the loss of familiar body heat as she tried to sleep, then a mess of circumstance and feelings that led to their bodies close but nowhere near touching as they shared a cave with a mass murderer. One hundred and twenty five years have passed since then and Emori would love to make a joke about the century they slept through, but it’s impossible to do so without thinking of Harper and Monty and things not to be joked about. 

“Yeah,” Emori agrees, something tight festering in her chest. It’s been even longer since she held him like this in their bed and he doesn’t smell like she remembers. It makes her sad. 

She tilts her head up to look at him and sees so many different layers of pain pile on his face, like snow collecting on a drift that won’t ever melt. He’s drunk and lost and Emori feels the same as how she had too many times in space, totally unknowing what to do. 

But John still has ways of surprising her. 

“You know I’m sorry for pushing you away. For making you feel…” He drifts off, and maybe that had been part of the problem, of him not knowing what she was feeling, and her not telling him. But he meets her eyes for the first time since they’d lied down and true regret lingers in his irises. “I never, never wanted that ‘Mori.”

Her first instinct is to say, ‘I know,’ but that’s not true. She hadn’t known. 

“I didn’t want it either,” she says instead, the truth, despite the words standing opposite to both their broken hearts. But Emori knows how to fix them. “I forgive you. I already have.” She doesn’t think about if it’s too easily done, if it’s just because the Earth blew up or because he died this morning. It’s what she feels, and she won’t deny it. 

He hugs her closer, rests his forehead against the curve of her skull. “I love you.”

“I love you.” 

His breathing evens into a familiar tempo and she relaxes into his body, into the soft bed. But John’s not quite asleep yet. 

“You’re hair smells nice.” 

She laughs lightly, her hand coming to rest on top of his. 

She imagines the buzzing of a swarm in her ears before she falls asleep. 

Emori wakes slowly, in opposition to her normal habit. She hasn’t a notion of what time it is. Dawn on Sanctum is brighter than on Earth, more akin to midday. 

If she dreamed during the night she remembers nothing, but there’s a warmth in her stomach rising through her chest and settling her mind. Probably from the place John’s palm rests. 

“You awake?” John asks, turning his head so his voice drips against the shell of her ear. She hums in response. 

“You hungover?” 

“Nah,” he says, shifts a little to hug her closer, his fingertips playing with the hem of her t-shirt. “My mouth’s a little fuzzy, though.” 

“I can get you some water?” 

“No,” he says, like a child might, except there’s a thick edge to the syllable that tightens in her belly the same way the palm of his hand does to keep her close. 

Her eyes close again but she’s very awake now, she settles back fully into the bed and her stillness lets her feel her heartbeat in her chest and throat. John’s fingers are beneath her shirt now, on that soft, sometimes ticklish part of her belly. It feels so nice, and she finally no longer feels clouded and confused with emotion. 

It makes it easy to turn over and kiss him. Not soft and lingering like she maybe should have made it, but making him gasp, pressing and seeking with her tongue. 

And it's not that she missed him really. He was always there, just around the corner, hiding under the parts of him she resented, or mirrored in the eyes of the others when the seat next to hers was empty at dinner. She had missed this though. His hands and lips on her neck and chest. Had dreamed about it a few times and woken up frustrated and angry with herself. 

And it hadn't even been about the sex really, but the intimacy. Something that had ended months before they broke up. She craves it now, though. Their bodies being so close a knife couldn't slip between them. Having confidence he loves her without condition. 

She knows that their thinking is still aligned because in that moment he tugs her over his closer by her waist, fingers rucking her shirt up highso that their chests run along each other as they breathe. She threads her fingers around the back of his neck to angle his head as they share kisses, sometimes pressing them into his jaw or beneath his ear, but always returning to his mouth and the low grateful hum that passes from his lips. It might almost be called leisurely if it weren't for his hands at her lower back, keeping her steady so that their hips could stay locked together. 

He’s hard already, not surprising considering the rush of his breath, how she can feel his heartbeat through his skin. Through his clothes even. She throbs, in that place where he isn’t, like her body might be able to latch onto the emptiness. 

His hands are warmer than she remembers them being. She sighs into his mouth, the sound more desperate than she knew a sigh could be.

“You want this?” John asks, his voice the way it used to get when he was in awe of her. Under the waistband of her pants his fingertips caress her skin.   

“Yes,” she says, his shirt mangled in her grip. She thinks about what being back down on Earth had done to her. Thinks about standing next to him and seeing the confident tilt of his mouth and calculating gleam in his eye. How the want had needled in her brain and pounded in her ribcage and clenched between her thighs. And now how it pales in comparison. “I want you,” she says into the corner of his mouth.  

He says her name, the word spilling off his tongue like some secret admission and she kisses him, tongue tracing his bottom lip so she might be able to catch the feeling falling from his lips. 

His hands trace further up her back and she sits ups, rocking her hips against him before peeling her shirt and sports bra off, feeling that old presence of comfort and pride as his eyes trace over her appreciatively. 

It stands in contrast to the way her own hands hesitate at his waist. She’s never been afraid of his scars before; had liked them even, the reminder of his ability to endure. But she’s never been the cause of any of them before.  

“Hey,” he says, rests his palms over her knuckles, “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.” That can’t be quite true because they’re both careful not to stretch his arms too high as his shirt if pulled off. But he smiles when her hands find balance on his shoulders, his own spanning high on her waist and tracing the undersides of her breasts. And he’s still smiling when she leans down to kiss him and she knows he doesn’t resent her. 

Not like he could when she starts rocking against him, shifting a bit until she finds the right drag against his cock. Insistence grows fast in her as she grinds down and her lips trace down his neck to the sharp point of his collarbones. 

John rubs the sensitive place on the very lowest part of her back and then whimpers when her knees tighten on either side of his waist. His hands become frisky, tugging at her belt loops

She’s wet. She’s so wet and he’s barely touched her. She’s aching, a wound that’s healed can still hurt. Her eyelids are trembling in an effort to stay open as his hands skim over her thighs, but she manages to keep watch him touch her until he leans over and breathes hot over that one place on her jugular that makes her shiver. 

His other hand works beneath her, pressing between her shoulder blades and making her arch up to meet his mouth as he sucks a mark onto her collarbone.

Her hands begin to slide up from his hips as he moves lower. Her touch lingers where new scar tissue mars his shoulder. She traces the two circles with her thumb, will do it with her mouth later, his body is so familiar, but the bullet wounds remind her that they’re both different now, both new people. 

His thumbs on her hip bones don’t feel different, though. And neither does his breath on her inner thigh. 

The anticipation mounts in her chest and between her legs, because she knows what he's going to do next. Because she wants it. That variance of pressure on her clit before he slicks a finger inside her has her legs trembling before he even starts. 

“John.” She says his name, a half moan, a reaffirmation of where they are, who they are. 

A sound, from deep in his gut passes his lips to imprint on her skin. His breath is more hurried than she would expect, making her shiver as it ghosts across her. 

He kisses the v of her legs, soft, fleeting, as he urges her legs further apart, and she gasps despite the briefness. She thought she was too wet for slow and gentle, too wired for his touch after a century and six months to be coaxed into anything languid, but John seems to insist on it, his mouth hot and exploratory against her folds reminding her of those days in space when he’d do this for hours. She whimpers. There’s no hesitance after that, just his tongue pressed against her entrance and flicking once before licking up her center. Then he laps at her clit, light, like she knew he would. 

“Yes,” she says, unable to stop her hips from circling against his mouth. His hand finds her hip to keep her steady, and then drags down the outside of her thigh, not venturing between them like she thought. He reaches for her hand instead, interlocks their fingers even if they don’t fit in any traditional way. She holds on tight to him. 

He places a kiss where her nerves are singing and she feels the burst of pleasure it creates squirming up her spine. A choked sound falls from her lips and her eyes open halfway to see him perched between her legs, and of course he’s looking up at her. But he’s not looking at her with that focus or determination she found so attractive. Instead it’s a caring most people don’t know he has. He just loves her. 

Her eyes squeeze shut as her jaw works uselessly, her precipe suddenly so much closer. He doesn’t go any faster, just presses a little harder, tongue lapping at her clit, circling her hip bone with her thumb, and then she’s there. She cries out, her skin abuzz with pleasure and her entire body feeling both heavy and light as she clenches around nothing, muscles in her thighs tightening as they seek to press together and open wider all at once.

Words rise and die in her throat as her legs shake before a comfort begins to grow next to her heart. John’s hand is still in hers. His thumb stroking over her knuckles is what recenters her.

“I love you,” she says between pants, because she doesn’t think he’ll say it first, and she wants to hear it. “I love you.”

He steals her breath with another kiss, words mumbled against her lips, but the shape of them familiar. “I love you,” he says with his hungry mouth, arms snaked around her back. 

She clings to him for a moment, still feeling dazed and a little lovesick. It’s a good position to run her hands through his hair the way he likes, and an even better one to wrangle him onto his back in before pressing kisses to the side of his neck. 

“Emori. Emori, can we…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she breathes into his skin, reaching down to find him still hard against the slide of her palm. 

Her lips press a sort-of kiss against his forehead as she shifts up, bracing herself more firmly on her knees before sinking onto him a soft keen torn from her throat with the motion. John’s thumb strokes her cheek, his mouth open and breath hot against her chin as she starts to move against him like a wave, steady and rolling, hard and crashing at the end. The length of him in her comforts her in a way she hadn’t anticipated, enticing the burn in her belly and in her heart both. 

“Fuck, Emori, I-” John groans, his hands skittering from her waist to her ass to her thighs, nails scratching lightly, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. It makes her shudder, clench around him. “God, I’m not gonna last long. Fuck.” 

His eyes close the next time she rolls her hips down, as if to prove her point. Emori moves a bit faster, tries to match the rhythm of his uneven thrusts, caught in her desire to study the vulnerability he displays right before he comes. It makes her feel warm all over, his trust, his love. She traces his jaw with her big hand, and the muscles in his throat twitch before he groans and breaks, his arms wrapping her in an embrace as she feels him warm and slick deep inside her. 

She rocks shallowly against him twice more before slipping off his lap and tucking herself into his open arms. 

“You’re amazing, really,” John says into her hair with his little satisfied smirk. The praise sparks hot in her chest as she presses closer to his heat. 

There is little innocence and not a small amount of hunger in the way his hands continue to pass over her body, and Emori is more than considering responding to the touches but she wants to linger for a moment. One where she doesn’t have to think about anything other than the way John is looking at her and the peculiarity of mornings on this moon.

[storyunrelated]

George & The Dragon - Late

Yet more self-indulgent flumf.

I rather enjoy the idea of draconic values just being...different. Like, not incomprehensible, just different.

Meh, I don’t know. You don’t care.

-

“Hello hello hello, how’s my favourite dragon today?” Said George, closing the door behind him before turning, expecting to see Jessica doing what she normally did where she normally did it: sleeping on her pile of stuff.

And indeed she was on her pile, but she was not asleep. She was very much awake, sitting up, and her eyes were fixed on George with enough intensity that he actually jumped. A dragon could look pretty intense when they wanted to.

“You’re late,” she said.

A lot of people - when confronted by a terse, glaring dragon - might feel nervous. George did not, and once he’d got over the shock of seeing her awake in the first place, took this in his stride, chuckling to himself at being so startled and moving on into the room proper, away from the door.

“Yes, sorry. Not too late, I hope?” He asked. Jessica only moved enough to keep him fixed firmly in her gaze.

“Why are you late?” She asked.

“Oh, Marie from work missed her bus so had to hang around and she didn’t really want to just be sat around on her own so I hung around with her for a bit and we had a coffee and whatever, ate up some time. Then three busses came! I didn’t think that actually happened but it, uh, did. Heh,” George said, shrugging.

This was what had actually happened. George felt it was an acceptable enough reason - hardly the sort of thing that went on every day, after all - and was alarmed when Jessica slithered down from her hoard and padded on over to him.

Jealousy - especially of the possessive kind where it wasn’t enough to have something but also imperative that others did not have that something - was a close cousin of greed, and therefore something that dragons were naturally quite vulnerable to. Particularly if they weren’t expecting it, doubly particularly if it wasn’t something that they’d ever really encountered before.

“Who is Marie?” She asked, raising her head high enough so that she had the height advantage over George. Not a difficult thing to do, really. She was after all a fair few times his size.

As for her question, George felt that he’d explained that already. Perhaps he’d missed it, he thought.

“Lady from work. Nice lady. French extraction, I think. But yes, takes the bus to work and today missed the one she normally gets. Poor lady didn’t want to just sit on her Todd in the shelter so, uh, yeah. We just hung out a bit, shot the breeze. Why?”

Jessica blew out a breath, nostrils flaring. She wasn’t even sure why she was angry. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she was angry. She was feeling something, this much was clear, and it had to do with what George was saying, but it wasn’t like anything she’d encountered before. She didn’t quite know what to make of it.

At the least, Jessica knew she didn’t like it. 

Shifting about, she brought her tail around and it snaked around George’s waist, gently but firmly pulling him a few steps closer and then staying wrapped there. Jessica’s tail could do things like that.

“Do you get her presents?” She asked.

This question caught George off-guard, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The tail was kind of distracting, too. Not to mention snug.

“What? Uh, not really. Mean, don’t know when her birthday is. Should probably find out. It’d be polite if - “ George said, about to go down a tangent of how even once he found out when Marie’s birthday was he still wouldn’t really know her enough to know what a good present would actually be and how this was an issue, but Jessica cut him off:

“So you don’t get her presents?”

George frowned the frown of the deeply confused.

“No. Not really sure why you’re asking,” he said, but then the light broke. “Oh! You mean like how I get you things, right?”

Jessica said nothing, though the grip of her tail tightened minutely.

“No I don’t do that, that’s just for you, Jess,” George said.

A pause. Further tightening of grip.

“...good,” Jessica said.

It wasn’t clear where the conversation was meant to go from here. Jessica didn’t appear in any hurry to say anything else, and George had only the vaguest idea of what had just happened.

“Well,” George said, only to yelp in surprise when Jessica returned to the pile and took him with her. There wasn’t a lot he could do about this.

There just-so happened to be a spot on the hoard that was comfortably composed of a multitude of stuffed animals, exactly the sort of spot a human might be able to settle down on. This was obviously a random coincidence and general stroke of luck, and in no-way was it something that Jessica had done intentionally. But since it was there - coincidentally - she might as well put it to good use.

“Sit here,” she said, depositing George onto this spot as she curled up herself, making sure to keep her tail idly - but weightily - laid across him, in case he had any ideas about moving or going anywhere.

George blinked and looked down at the abundance of soft toys he was sitting on. He’d sat in worse places, he supposed.

“Right,” he said, not really seeing anything else he could do. So he just got comfy. Jessica watched him do this, checked he didn’t make any sudden moves, and then relaxed, laying her head down. Kept an eye on George though, something he noticed before too long.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Even for Jessica this was unusually quiet.

“I’m fine.”

Nothing further. George idly patted her tail because that’s just where his hands had ended up. He then noticed that he was doing this and stopped doing this.

“So…” he said. “What did you do today, then?”

“Slept,” said Jessica.

Not a huge surprise. Still George had felt it worth asking and he did have to smile at her answer. He probably could have guessed, really.

“Doesn’t sleeping all day get a little boring?” He asked. She huffed.

“I’m a dragon. I like sleeping.”

“Oh. Should I not bother you, then?”

He asked this while trying, jokingly, to rise. He didn’t get very far, her tail pressing down enough to keep him quite definitively in place.

“No. I mean, no you shouldn’t not bother me. I like it when you bother me,” Jessica said hurriedly. Then adding: “Keep doing that thing with your hands.”

“What thing?” George asked, holding up his hands. Jessica raised her head and nudged it toward her tail, assuming this would help him get the point. It did not.

“That thing you were doing before. The patting thing. Keep doing that.”

Cautiously, uncertain, George back to doing what he’d been doing without thinking before.

“This?” He asked.

Jessica let out a small, satisfied hum, nodded, then settled her head back down again and closed her eyes. George, at a loss, just kept on doing what he was doing, wondering what any of it might mean.

On the plus side, he was at least very comfortable. And cosy. And generally snug and content. Who knew sitting on a pile of gathered stuff could be so restive? Lucky she liked the stuffed animals so much, he supposed, and luckier still that so many of them just-so happened to be right on the surface just like that.

Very lucky indeed. He wondered about that, but reached no definite conclusions. George was happy enough to put it down to coincidence, something that Jessica would have been very glad - not relieved! Nothing to be relieved about! - to hear.

Hoards are fine things, though.

There isn’t a lot of design or thought that goes into the arrangement of a dragon’s hoard. If it looks like a heap of stuff, that’s because it is a heap of stuff. The order or setup of the layers is not especially significant, the important part is having the stuff and then getting more stuff. That’s kind of the point.

That said, there are always certain items in the hoard that are considered more important for whatever reason, and these are often found towards the top of the pile and within easy reach, to be brought out and admired at leisure. 

These are usually things like the first of a particular type of item that was acquired, the one that triggered the collection of other, similar items. Or sometimes it’s something hard-won, that took a lot of effort to get. Or even something with some level of sentimental value, something given by someone they have fond memories of or fuzzy feelings for, perhaps. 

Things like that. Not necessarily items with innate value, but rather items with assigned value. Though a dragon would be the first point out that value assigned by a dragon was innate value and that if a dragon says something is precious it then becomes precious by that fact alone. But that’s a given. They would say that.

The point remains. Just because dragons are greedy - and make no mistake, they are greedy - doesn’t mean they can’t also be softies, too.

For example! Near the surface at the very top of Jessica’s hoard - protected and kept out of sight by a thin layer of lesser items - was the very, very first thing that George had ever given her, that which he’d given her the first time they’d ever met.

It was hidden so that he didn’t see that she’d put it in such a prominent place, and it was near the top so that when she slept she could be certain she was sleeping with it close and with herself right on top of it. That it was close was important. She checked daily to make sure it hadn’t gone anywhere.

That’s an example. It’s not universal, but it’s an example.

“Are you asleep again?” George asked after a little while, continuing to pat. He’d worked out a rhythm.

“No,” Jessica said, keeping her eyes closed.

“You still up for going out tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

It being the weekend, George had previously floated the idea of the two of them going into town and just making a day of it. Maybe seeing a film, maybe just sitting somewhere and doing nothing. It was meant to be quite nice, tomorrow, the Autumn weather inexplicably having decided to just leave for a day, as it was often wont to do, and the sun coming back.

“Good, good,” said George. He was glad. He’d been looking forward to it all week, as a matter of fact. Had kind of been the thing that had kept him going.

He then yawned, because the combination of sitting comfortably, being snug and having only recently finished work was a potent one.

“Oh my, I’m nodding off,” he said, closing his own eyes. There really was something quite soothing in the warm weight of that tail just draped across him. Perhaps he was just odd.

“George?” Came Jessica’s voice and he halfway opened one eye again.

“Hmm?”

There was a pause as she gathered up the words.

“...don’t be late again. I mis- I don’t like it when you’re late,” she said.

George yawned again, stopped patting and just drowsily wrapped his arms around her tail, snuggling against it and sinking deeper into the bed of stuffed animals.

“I missed you too…”

Jessica’s ears flickered and her head bolted up.

“Missed me too?! No! Dragons don’t - I didn’t - “

But he was already asleep, snoring quietly to himself. Jessica frowned and gave him a light poke in the side with a talon. He kept on snoring as happy as anything. If anything he just snuggled up even more. Jessica sighed.

“I don’t get you…” she said, cocking her head, just looking at him.

She couldn’t quite pin the feeling down, but there was just something right in having him there, on the pile. Near her. Like he belonged. And why shouldn’t he belong there? He was very valuable! Her first and only friend. Such a thing was a treasure, and therefore had to be kept safe. The logic there was ironclad. No holes or issues whatsoever.

Happy that things were as they should be Jessica put her head back down and closed her eyes, drifting off herself.

“Missed you too,” she said, quietly enough that even had George been awake he likely wouldn’t have heard her.

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 2

Summary: A harrowing encounter on your familiar road home leads you down a path you’d never dreamed you’d follow. But when your fate becomes entwined with that of the Prince, you must learn to stand together or risk everything falling apart

Part 1

Read on Ao3

Word count: 2,762

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Chapter 2: A Little Knowledge

The creaking of wood and the sound of soft footsteps register as if from a distance, and you clutch tighter at the soft blanket around you. Light hits your face, along with cool, fresh air, and you open your eyes at once, startling awake from a sleep you hadn’t meant to have. You slowly look around, although you do not move more than your eyes.

Einvald is standing at the tent entrance, silhouetted against the early morning light outside. He ducks out and lets the flap fall shut without a backward glance, leaving you alone for the first time since last evening, when all this began.

You stretch cautiously, unsure how long you have before Einvald returns, or someone else comes to fetch you.

You realize that a bowl of clean water has been left beside your pile of furs, and you wash your hands in it before splashing the cold water on your cheeks and drying them on one of the pelts. Your braid had come loose in the night, so you unplait it the rest of the way, leaving your hair in waves around your face. Unbidden, you feel a twinge of loss. It was a rather pretty braid. But its hardly worth dwelling on, not when you have so much else to think about. You still do not know what plan this strange group of people have in mind for you, nor do you have any means of formulating an escape.

Besides, you miss your family with jolt of pain that’s unexpectedly fierce. They’re bound to be worried sick about you, fretful minds dreaming up what awful fate must have befallen you to keep you from coming home. Maybe they think I am dead. And that thought feels heavy in your chest, settling there like a stone, pressing down, aching under the weight of it.

What you wouldn’t give for your mother’s warmth and kind advice, Father’s steadfast presence, or the long, pensive conversations you could have with your brother, and the laughs shared between you all. You even miss Búrakki, the fluffy black dog that runs about the farm, always jumping up on you and muddying up your dresses with his paws. You hadn’t meant to be out so late. If you had only started back sooner, if you hadn’t been so leisurely in your pace, perhaps this never would have happened. Perhaps this is all your fault.

Hot tears run down your cheeks, and you quickly splash more water on your face to wash them away. You don’t want the others to know you’ve been crying. You’re already vulnerable enough, no need to give them further proof of your weakness. You steel yourself. No, you did nothing wrong. You weren’t the one kidnapping people as they were minding their own business, you weren’t taking daughters from their families in the night. If anyone is at fault, it is Stórr, and Einvald, and his men.

You stand and make your way to the entrance of the tent, though you hesitate, unsure if you’re expected to leave yourself, or wait to be escorted. You frown at that thought, a surge of indignation rising as you mourn the freedom to act of your own volition. Mind made up, you push your way out of the tent.

The crispness of dew hits your nose as you blink in the soft light. It’s early, and the camp is quiet save for the warbling of a few nearby birds and the ever-present hum of insects. Einvald is sitting on the log, saying something to Pínaluk, who is coaxing a new fire to life in the ashes of the pit. His voice is too low for you to make out, but he stops talking when he sees you. He motions for you to approach.

You cross the wet grass of the camp and stand before him. While last night you felt afraid, this morning has replaced the fear with resentment, and you will the bitterness out of your face. It wouldn’t do to have Einvald believe you were defying him. He might tie up your hands again, or worse. You shiver a bit as you remember the blade at his belt. Perhaps the fear has not gone entirely.

“P��naluk will take you to the stream to bathe,” he tells you, not sparing a moment for a greeting or acknowledgement of your presence, not that you want one. Still, his curtness rankles, and you loathe him all the more for it. He flicks his gaze over you and adds, “Wash your dress as well. It’s filthy at the hem.”

It’s clear that you are dismissed, and you look at Pínaluk with a measure of trepidation. She brushes her sooty hands on her dress front, as if that will clean them, and sighs, looking at you with a put-upon expression, as if it was your fault you were imposing. You had been kidnapped for Ymir’s sake!

She walks off into the forest without a backward glance, and you hurry to keep up with her brisk pace. As you walk, you wonder what the point of all this even is. Why the bath? Sure, you are a bit dirty, a bit sweaty, but who wouldn’t be after being forced to traipse through the woods all night? And why bother with washing the dress? It isn’t like any of the men, or even Pínaluk, are particularly clean. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing seems to.

Pínaluk leads you to a small runnel where she stands off to the side, back propped against a tree trunk, with her arms folded across her chest.

The water is barely three paces wide, and looks quite shallow. You look around, nervously. The area feels so exposed, and while you’re reasonable certain that Hreinn and the others are still in camp, asleep, you don’t know. You swallow. You look at Pínaluk, but she just looks impatient. Disinterested. No use stalling, you decide.

You unfasten your best and pull the dress over your head and set it aside on a rock. You slide out of your underthings, unlace your boots, and yank them off, placing them next to the dress. Then you shuffle your bare feet to the water’s edge and take a deep breath before stepping into it.

It’s freezing cold this early, without long for the sun to warm it, and you don’t quite manage to stifle your gasp. Still, you grit your teeth as you wade in further until the water is nearly up to your knees, and you are as deep as it goes. You lean forward to dip your hands in it and feel them grow numb as their heat is swept away by the current running through them. Cupping water in your hands, you scrub your body as well and as quickly as you can. You absolutely are not going to attempt to wash your hair in the frigid stream, so when you finish, you all but run back to the shore.

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your steps, but you cannot feel them, so frozen are your feet. Your teeth chatter a bit as you try to sweep the clinging water off your limbs and redress in your underclothes. You’re profoundly grateful that the trees are dense here and block out the worst of the wind.

Pínaluk tosses you simple white shift. You hadn’t seen her carrying it, but when you look again you notice that she is holding a sheepskin sack, and you suppose it must have been in it.

“Thank you, Pínaluk,” you say, but she doesn’t reply, she just gives you the same sour frown as always. What is her issue?

You dismiss the thought with a shake of your head, and pull the shift on over your undergarments. It’s wool, and deliciously warm, but the fibers of it rub against your body and make you itch. You shove your feet back into the lissome oxhide of your boots, fumbling to pull the laces tight and knot them.

You pick up your dress and hang it over a branch so you can knock the dried mud from the hem before you take it and hold it under the stream, letting the water run over it and wash the dirt downstream. Some spots are particularly grimy, and these you ply and work at until they loosen and fade. Once it’s as clean as you can get it, and your fingers are stiff with cold, you wring it out and drape it over your arm, looking at Pínaluk so she knows you’re ready to go back to camp.

She leads you back with the same too-fast pace as before, but she doesn’t let you out of her sight, so you can’t slip away. You wonder how fast she can run, if she’d be able to catch up to you if you took off through the forest. But surely Einvald and his men know these trees better than you do. Even if you could outrun Pínaluk, there would be no nook, no crevice you could hide yourself that they would not find you, and you could not run forever.

The fire is burning bright and tall when you arrive back at camp, and smoke rises from it in plumes. Several of the men are up and wandering around the camp, and more emerge from their tents as you cross the clearing. A few of them glance your way and a chill runs down your back as your eyes meet Hreinn’s, and you look away immediately. You’re suddenly very aware of how the shift clings to your body, how short it is. Your stomach churns.

You hang up your dress near to the fire, close enough to let it lend its heat to dry the pale blue fabric, but out of the trail of smoke. You feel overly aware of every move you make, as if you’re on display, and you try to tell yourself that you’re not the focus of everybody, but you know that they must at least be curious about you, if not worse.

You scuttle over to the log and perch on the end of it nearest the fire, ostensibly staring into the flames. Through the corners of your eyes, you glance around camp. Hreinn is nowhere to be found, and several other men are gone as well. You wonder if perhaps they have gone to bathe after all.

You catch a glimpse of pale hair and you look up at Sverrir. While his hair was loose last night, he now wears intricate, tasteful braids at his temples. He smiles at you, but he keeps his distance. This confuses you as much as it relieves you. He had seemed so smitten with you last night, so determined to impress you. What had changed? Then you remember the way Einvald had looked at him, as if in warning. Had he told Sverrir to leave you alone? If so, why? Had he said the same to the other men, the Hreinn? And what did any of this have to do with the prince?

You think about the bath, the dress, the way Einvald sized you up. Stórr’s “untouched” comment. Surely they weren’t planning on presenting you to the prince, were they? To be what? His courtesan? His whore? You’re fairly sure Prince Thor wouldn’t be interested in anything like that. He has Lady Sif, after all, and from what you know, he’s been courting her with every intent to marry.

But, you realize, Thor is not the only prince. The younger prince is much more of an unknown to you. You have no idea what Prince Loki would or wouldn’t be interested in. A pit opens up in your stomach. Just what was this royal announcement about?

Your chest feels tight and you’re dangerously close to panicking. You focus on breathing through your nose, in deeply, letting it catch in your chest, and out slowly. A few minutes later, you feel a bit more rational, but you’re still on edge. You lower your head into your hands, gripping at your hair.

Someone calls your name and you jerk your head up, startled. It’s a man who you haven’t met, swarthy and lithe, and he looks amused by your reaction. You glare at him, but he merely tosses you a small bag, never losing his toothy grin. It’s a bit attractive, actually, much as it galls you to admit. You pick up the little leather pouch deliberately and open it.

There are dried berries, a few pieces of smoked meat, and some bits of bread inside. You pick up a strip of the meat and gnaw at it. It’s tough, like leather cord, but once it softens up as you chew, it’s not too bad, and you hope some food will soothe your stomach and not further upset it. The bread is stale, probably days old, and completely unappetizing, but the berries are actually delicious. You wolf down several handfuls, and save the rest in case you get hungry later.

The hours passes slowly, and you spend them sitting mostly alone on the log, split between watching the men as they go about their camp, disregarding those who sit next to you, and staring at the trees, lost in thought. Any plan you start to form about escaping falls away unfinished. You cannot fight them, and neither can you talk your way out. These men have a vested interest in taking you to the prince. Likely money. Judging by the looks of them, and the pitiful food, these are not wealthy people, there probably is little they wouldn’t do out of desperation or greed, or, you suspect of some of them, simply because Einvald commanded it. But there has to be some other way, hasn’t there? You think of Stórr’s conviction, of how certain Einvald was that the prince would be pleased.

No. You will not let these men sell you as some whore to be used, by either prince. You will find another way. You have to.

Eventually, when you go to check the dress, it is dry beneath your touch, and you sigh in relief. Now you can put it on and have a sliver of your modesty back. While Hreinn has not tried to touch you like he had last night, you notice his eyes, along with those of some of the other men, lingering on the low cut neck of your borrowed shift, on your bare legs. You’ll be glad to be back in your familiar, comfortable, soft dress, with its long skirt, full sleeves, and the pretty embroidery that your mother stitched herself. You shake out the stiffness and carry it to Einvald’s tent to change.

You hesitate at the entrance. You’re sure Einvald is inside, and you’re not sure you want to announce your presence. He’s been relatively accommodating, but you don’t know if he’ll appreciate you intruding on him just for a place to change without exposing yourself. Perhaps you should find Pínaluk, and ask her to show you to a secluded copse of trees.

In the end, Einvald makes the choice for you.

“Come in, if you’re going to. Don’t just stand there,” he says through the tent flap, and you start.

You duck into the tent, feeling heat rise to your face. You fiddle with the dress in your arms as you gather your courage.

“Sorry, sir.” You force the words out. “I was just, I was hoping to be able to change here,” you say far too quickly.

“You wish for privacy,” he says from the bed.

“Yes, sir,” you nod, and hold your breath, waiting for his response.

He frowns, but rises.

“So be it.” He walks to the entrance. “But you’d do well not to get used to it.”

He looks at you a long moment, and you are reminded once more of what he plans to do with you. No, you’d have no privacy at all as a concubine. You look away. Your gaze falls on the seax at his belt and your eyes widen.

“Yes, sir,” you say again, somewhat distractedly.

He leaves and you hurriedly strip off the shift and throw the dress over your head. As you adjust it around you, you realize that you have no more reason to stall, and Einvald will probably want to waste as little time as possible to meet the prince and make his transaction. The thought worries you, but already you can feel the beginnings of a plan forming in your mind.

Part 3

[pinkpoundcake]

YOUR FAVORITE

All Might/ Reader as Female OC

4K+  Words

I don’t have an Ao3, so this’ll have to go here. I don’t believe FF.net accepts first person, so woommpp. I haven’t written in a long time, so if I missed some things I apologize, ahaha. I’ve read so much good fanfiction, I wanted to contribute. Nothing tooooo explicit, but it’s certainly mature. So, enjoy lol. 

EDIT: 

I changed the category of this fic. I’m warning the reader that you’re an OC! Kinda like you’re a preset character in a dating sim? If that makes any sense. Those be my only terms of free service.

Your Job, your job, your job…

How did you feel about your job? Indifferent most late nights. It was just something you did to pay the bills. You wouldn't call it a passion or a thrill. It wasn't something you were going to hold on to forever, even if the pay and the environment were accommodating.

The clientele was... diverse to say the least. There was the average patron; the everyday man. Bored or thirsty blue collared hound dogs crawl out after their wives sleep. Crawling was an appropriate word. You can tell when they skirt by the vigilant bouncer that they don't want anyone knowing who they are. They tip moderately, which is fine. They don't cause a scene, don't draw attention, just want to be entertained or fantasize for a little while.

Then there were the deep pocket business men. While older, or sleazy, they bring the real rain, and the rent you need. They're bold enough to ask for several private dances, VIP tables, shots on shots on shots, expensive bottles of in house liquor. Bold enough to invite their other business associates. Sometimes it's hard to tell them apart from villains. You've seen yakuza in suits just as tacky or expensive. Maybe they all wash money together?

Thick, real silver or gold wrist watches. Thick wads of cash in thick rubber bands. On the rude side, generally. They always wanna touch. Wanna use their quirks to do things against the rules. They lean closer to the stage than you usually like. They say things over the rumble of music you're inclined to flirtatiously banter with. That's fine, too, because while they're close and kind of annoying. A Mr Mr with a Rolex is always holding out a generous tip for you. He wants to stick it in your Swarovski Crystal panties. You guessed it, that's fine, too.

"Baambie, baby, you're my favorite." The smoky stage lights seep into the crinkled corners of an older man's eyes as he greedily laps up the sight of your body bent down to him. A lot of people say that. Dirty cheating dogs, rich guys dry cleaning on the side, temperamental villains, even heros...

Baambie you're my favorite.

You're tall to say the least, a woman who has to duck under doorways. It doesn't stop you from wearing the platform heels you bargained from one of the other performers, though. It makes those already long legs look dramatic. The poles go alllll the way up so you can really climb, so there's no problem with height. And it doesn't stop you from being the 'soft sweetheart' of the club, either. That's your character. Your soft, soft body, with generous top and bottom assets, covered in dark, velvety hide. The spots on your wide hips and shoulders aided in acquiring your stage name. You have a sweet, (though false) baby- like voice with that jingly, sheepy vibrato. You comb out all the conditioned wool that composes the hair on your head before every shift to look like a halo of heavenly clouds. Your horns, that have been getting sort of long as of late, that spiral out from your forehead are covered in golden glitter. A big eyed American dream, so to speak, dancing in Japan.

"Baambie, you're my favorite…" you hear. You languidly drag your heeled feet along the stage floor. Sauntering over to the man whose voice cut through one of the songs for the improvised part of your usual routine. It was always interesting to see a familiar face, even if it was a strange one. All things considered, strange faces were a usual portion of the job.

"Hi, again, sweetheart," you only feel comfortable enough to genuinely flutter your long eyelashes at this fellow. He's another repeat patron; a welcomed face, actually. Whoever he is, he always slips a very generous amount of cash on to the stage for you. You wonder where he aligns…

He couldn't possibly be a hero or villain. He's scrawny, to rudely describe. Pretty plain looking if he weren't so willowy. He visits by himself. Doesn't ask to touch, doesn't touch on the sly. Doesn't take pictures on his phone. Doesn't boast with shiny adornment and popped bottles. Maybe he isn't a wealthy businessman? He's either unmarried, or smart enough to remove his wedding ring. He wears a poorly fitting black or blue suit, or just a shirt and tie most sporadic visits.

He always comes to you, though, or waits for your turn. He orders a non-alcoholic drink, maybe two, sits near the stage you perform on, always accepts to pay for a dance, and watches carefully. You're a little fond of him, so you give him some eye contact to hint that the favoritism is mutual. His presence is a...kind one. Unfitting for the situation, but it's hard to pin down what he made you think of. He had a shy, humble body language from what you could gather. Like every time was his first time in a strip club. He's never given you any problems.

Blondie swallows, the lights moving in just enough time to catch the bob of his prominent adams apple and the sweat from the heat of the lights beading on his forehead.

Your hands slide up your thighs, to your hips, to your breasts, tracing sensual, snaking patterns in your fur. Your clawed fingers catch the edge of your fluttery, glittery, white costume to show him your panties. They were white as well, and made out of the same thin material. From his angle, he would have been tantalized by the plump outlines at your crotch. If this fellow had an imagination, you fed it. Every man in radious was watching now, hoping you'd take something off. But while they were watching you, no one knew you were watching him.

The lights shifted again, the room smoking from hidden stage foggers as the section grew dimmer for the highlight of your performance. Your claws hooked around the spire to heaven. You swept your leg around, spinning up and swinging around like the most beautifully carved pony on a carousel. Every man close enough, let you know they wanted to hop on and ride. A villain you recognized lost partial control of his beastly quirk and pounded the stage with slimy, webbed fits, howling like some sort of American cartoon character. You would have rolled your eyes if they weren't focused on your favorite.

Smiling, revealing dimples kissed with glitter and the most endearing, white, herbivorous front teeth, you bent your knees like a pin up girl, and leered at the mystery fellow over your dappled shoulder. You spun, partially from the easily rotated poll, and the will of your own strength.

You hoped he was flustered as you ascended higher, unclamping your legs, you unbent them, and pushed them out in the air in a split. Your hooven toes were pointed east and west in a show of acrobatics. The muscles of your thighs beautifully tensed. Cash fluttered down to the stage like the feathery, ruffled trail of your costume's train. Your favorite, was even more generous so. You could see blue eyes trembling with excitement and tell tale yearning as he slapped more money at your feet. His heavily hooded eyes were so sincerely filled with desire for you, that it made you wonder. You let him know his reaction pleased you. Your thick thighs were hugging the pole again, sliding and ruffling fur as you sank back down to finesse on solid platform. Slyly, you were finally taking something off.

The music slowed to a soft croon. As the thin strips of your panties were stretched and pressed down by your graceful fingers, you painstakingly drew them down your thighs. It was hushed, lusting men holding their breath. What more did you have to show them? Something plump, sweet, tasty?

As the big crescendo of the song finally dropped. You snatched your panties off by the hook, and threw them in the instantly ignited crowd. Whether your favorite caught what you were trying to give him, you weren't sure, but that was the end of your turn.

++++

He told himself a long time ago that he had to stop going to see you. But in some areas he had to admit he was terribly weak of will. Toshinori could only be described as shuffling, or awkwardly waddling out of the doors of the night club. Every other step was to adjust the dead weight that formed somewhere in his pants, and to ease the bruise he'd probably gotten from being elbowed for those panties after the frenzy. Sighing, he lifted and opened up the cover of his umbrella, though it was only misting.

Face now hidden, he began his long journey out of the district. He cursed himself as he clutched your panties buried deep in his pocket. He didn't have any plans for them, honest, but he was ashamed that he had mentally settled on keeping them. Or, er, maybe returning them next time he saw you, even though he was telling himself he was not going to watch you perform again.

He had the same battle every time he was met with what to do with his precious evening leisure, which was rare. Toshinori argued with himself. This was a totally normal lone bachelor activity, right? ( Maybe for a young one…) He wasn't cheating on anyone. Wasn't currently neglecting a current matter. A slow, peaceful night was so rare, and it's not like he was watching without paying. The rebuttal was that he was All Might of all people. He shouldn't be slinking around these sorts of establishments where the crooks hang, wasting a minuscule portion of his hero paycheck pining after some dreamy dancer.

You were so beautiful, though… It was your job to be beautiful, of course, of course. But, if Toshinori wanted anything else, it would be to see you every night for the rest of his life. Okay...He was aware he was being dramatic, that maybe that wasn't true. It was the twin trapped in his underwear talking. That's it. Just like it was telling him to stick your underwear in a plastic bag in his drawer at home, and to withdraw some cash for next time, even though there certainly wasn't going to be a next time.

Street lights passed in blurry, wet puddles, and disappeared in rivets beneathing the looming shadows of buildings. The mist turned to a light rain as Toshinori finally made it to the proper door of his private apartment. He put the nights prize away, the drawer like he discussed. He had a swift shower, a swifter meal, and then reset the alarm on his phone for daily hero vigilance and prattling about Might Tower tomorrow.

He sank into bed, still ignoring the lingering ache between his legs. For any other reason, he would have taken care of it, but he surmised that actually stroking himself off this time might shift his feelings and thoughts of you in an… weird, unsure direction. He didn't know what allowing things to become physical, even though minute, would do.

He checked the time. He had to be up in four hours. His weary blue eyes fell to the sky out of a nearby window. Even the moon had taken off her make-up and gone to bed before him; slumbering behind storm clouds. Another sigh. Instead of counting sheep, he was counting every time you smiled at him.

++++

You didn't see your favorite again the next night. That was a little disappointing. You almost thought about waltzing over while you were off of the stage and flirting with him. Eh...on the job, but no one would know the difference between trying to pick up, or butter up a patron. You didn't have a type, fat guys, skinny guys, whatever. It was nice to see a bean pole taller than you. Men seldom were if they weren't influenced in size by a quirk. But again, he wasn't in tonight. Maybe you'd see the fella in the next month or so, whatever he was doing.

"Bye Baambie! Get home safe!" You and all the other dancers used your stage names instinctively, even in saying goodbye. You issued out a loud 'I will!' and a wave as you gathered your bags. Your shift was over, so it was time to go home and get off your feet. The glitter in your fur was starting to become itchy and you were eager for a liberating bath.

One of the meat-heads-for-hire your boss had stationed about the club escorted you out after finishing the last bouts of 'employee protocol'. You thanked him like you usually do, and then minded your business toward the train station. Rain boots were a different look from stripper heels. So were sweatshirts and jeans, and a makeup-less face. You kept your pace swift, not wanting to miss your only ride home for a while. Not wanting anyone in the club vicinity to recognize you, either. You checked the time on your phone. You had to peel back the chunky, animal character shaped case to properly open it. You needed to be in bed in two hours if you wanted enough sleep for that morning class you had tomorrow.

The train at this time was mostly empty. There was a couple: two fellows at the right end, and then one sitting by himself on the left near the other car door. You might not have recognized the fellow on the left without the strobing strip club lights, but you did. His wild blonde mane and stature were unmistakable.

He recognized you too, and your eyes met for a fraction of a second. It wasn't... awkward per say…just unexpected. Seeing him here, in real ordinary life and not in a realm of debauchery. Grubby public transit. You kept your eyes on your phone, eyes trying to find something new in the leaping cow background of your home screen. He didn't move, thinking to do the same, distract himself. Toshinori pretended he didn't see you, pretended he wasn't here because he semi-successfully stopped himself from going back again tonight.

While you were turned away, he effectively failed at pretending. You were just as cute in jeans and a sweatshirt as you were in a robe and thong. He tore his attention away, to prevent himself from being creepy, and to discreetly eye up the other gentlemen on the train that were now moving toward you.

One smelled of liquor, and was obviously tipsy. The other fellow appeared irritated by the state his friend was in. They must have just left the club in Kamino, too.

"Heeeeyyyyy youuu'reee Baaaambieeee~!" The slurring fellow smiled, managing to recognize you. "You...you going to your house-home? To…to your home?"

"Something like...that." You offered a smile, though it was obvious you were cringing and uncomfortable. You knew he was a villain, more like a grunt level thug, but you didn't know his name. Mr. Drunk Guy was swaying closer.

"Dude, shut up. C'mon." Hushed tone, his friend was just as much of a punk ass, because he wasn't actively coming to get him.

"Can I come, too? I'm not... I'm not doing nothing right now. I was uh, watching you in the thing before…the thing...the club. You're a pr-o-o-oo. Like a heroooo~"

"Hmmmmm," you squinted and kept your voice low as well. You didn't want to talk here. It was rude. "I don't. I don't think so...Thanks?"

It was a relief when the train finally came to your stop. You snagged your bags and made a speedy exit. You ignored the two 'gentlemen' and swept by. Blondie, who was a wound up coil in his seat up until this point, caught your eye again as you exited. You didn't say anything, but gave him a formal acknowledgment; a look that said 'Good luck with those guys…'

You thought the night was returning to normalcy. The wind whipped through your hair, chilling the sweat that collected on your scalp. The rain picked up ever so slightly, but you didn't mind. You focused on the sound it made as it made contact with the pavement. You were comfortable with walking alone, with your apartment, your bed, a few blocks away.

But truthfully, you still had a problem. At least Mr. Drunk was still your problem. He slithered out after you, leaving Mr. Gutless far, far behind in the train. You didn't even realize he was trailing you until he tripped over the grate of a drainage feed. He barely caught himself as he kicked up plenty of draining water, setting his shifting body upright. The moon poked her head out for just a moment to illuminate the side of Mr. Drunk's face. It was covered in dusky green scales, like some sort of slimy snake, and his eyes were a half-lidden yellow.

You kept walking, your hand clutching your phone. You turned a corner, leading him away from the direction your apartment was in.

"H-Hey! You said I could come over, riiight?" The more and more Mr. Drunk pleaded, the more he slurred. He became unintelligible. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and you thought it would end at his lips, but it just kept going and going and going until it slipped against the pavement. Much to your horror, it spun out like a whip and cracked out toward you.

"Oh, hell no!" You yanked your other bag under your arm and prepared to drag out the (very illegal) knife you kept hidden behind the ripped inner seam, but in a gust of wind, you couldn't see your potential assailant anymore. He was blown away in an instant, tumbling like a weed several blocks back. He smacked headfirst into a heap of pallets in a far alley. You whipped around the massive figure blocking your view; absolutely confused and bewildered.

"HA HA HA! Never fear! For I am here, miss!" All Might bellowed out, hands on his hips, and head still thrown back from his victorious laugh.

The night had completely bypassed normality.

"A-All Might?!" You stammered, still trying to get a full grasp on what had just happened. "All Might?!" You snatched your hand from your purse, hoping he didn't catch the glint of the knife you had almost flung out.

"Good god...thanks?!" You were unsure of what else to say. You'd never met the guy in person. Never ever thought you would meet the guy in person in your life! He was all the news, and talk shows, and internet went on about. You weren't too in the loop when it came to what heros were doing what, but you'd be crazy to not know who this big brute was.

You got a good look at him while he was up close, just about looming over you like the cityscape did. You'd never get the opportunity to again, you were very sure. Way taller than you thought he'd be. And the camera didn't lie. The button up and slacks he was wearing were stretched taut, stitch popping, over his form. He had muscles on display you didn't even know existed.

"Thanks so much. I promise I'm not with that guy. He was trying to follow me home." From where, was obviously not the number one hero's business. You took a deep breath to settle the adrenaline that was still coursing through your system. You just registered your heart thumping. Your horns had unwound and stood upright on your head like the sharp points of a raging bull's rack. You didn't have the energy to use your quirk to shift them back into something much less threatening.

"No worries!" All Might assured you. "Please, be safe out late by yourself, ma'am. I'll take care of this snake." He winked, and you couldn't help but snort. All Might was really...that cheesy in person, too. With another sexy wink, and his final quip, he was ready to take off, but you had to stop him.

"Wait!" You stuffed your hand in your purse ( Not for the very illegal knife this time.) "Please accept this as a token of my gratitude." It really wasn't a business card or a real gift, but you handed it off with a slightly lowered head, and two hands anyway.

"Oh?" All Might's eyes were shadowed, so you couldn't quite tell if he was genuinely interested or just entertaining you. He was a big busy guy, but you know...maybe he'd like to visit and unwind on their more...uh, hero friendly nights. You won't find a villain around when the heroes with a license are allowed to enter and drink for free. Villains have never stopped clients like Captain Celebrity from visiting though, have they?

You had your own 'frequent flyer' card of sorts for regulars. It was for promotional purposes of course, to make patrons feel more special so they'd tip a little more. It was a white card with the club's info, but on the other side was a decorative symbol, a glittery gold ram, with your stripper name in a suggestive, cursive font beneath it. In the corner was a number, eight, that you had written there personally in a glitter pen to keep track of the ammount you were handing out.

"Baambie…?" All Might pretended to pronounce your name for the first time. His heart was hammering just a little with excitement. It was a token, or voucher for a private, back room dance.

"Yes, um...I get it if it's not your thing. I was going to give it to someone else tonight, but I think you should have it if you ever want to relax. The least I can do. I'd love to dance for you." You gathered the gall to bat your eyelashes at All Might and use your high pitched character voice to punctuate your appreciation.

"Uh…." He seemed confused or flustered, you thought. Flustered was right, but he certainly wasn't confused. "I will, ah...Consider!" All Might seemed to regain some sense of composure. "I really must be off! Be safe miss!" And just as quickly as he came, he was gone before a crowd could gather.

++++

Another month passed since the whole slimy guy incident. You haven't seen your favorite for a long while, either. Maybe seeing him on the train scared him off. It made you a little sad. Not just because of the money, but because you genuinely liked seeing him come in. You thought he was cute. It was whatever, though. That's how you usually addressed things. Took whatever as it comes.

You never told anyone about seeing All Might that night. You didn't think anyone would believe you. What plagued you most was the fact that you actually gave him your card. You're not a very blushy girl, but you blush every time you think about it. You're glad it can't be seen through your fur. God, he must have looked up what the card was and took a hard pass. All Might probably wouldn't want that kind of patronage on his track record. Really, you totally understood.

So the day you were told someone was asking to have a private dance with you, on the premise of one of your cards, you were thrown for a loop. You haven't handed one out in a while, aside from the one you gave All Might? Maybe it was some hot shot back in country, wanting to show off in the back room.

But your job, your job, your job. You had work to do, so you excused yourself to make your appearance in the private room. It was cooler than the main portion of the building, not as many people. It was decorated differently to make it look more special. You didn't mind being there by yourself. There was surveillance, and a guard of sorts on the other side of the door. You were almost hoping that All Might would have indulged in your offer, but you were positive that was pure fantasy. Besides, if he were here, all the loud, rowdy thugs in tonight would have scattered like rats.

Anyway, show time. You entered to greet whoever it was that was going to be receiving a lap dance from you. Taking a deep breath, you began with a slow, dramatic saunter. Your hips held the extra sway of your strut. As you shifted out of the shadow and into the light, your private patron also came into view. Bright blue eyes that were vivid in the shadows of his brow. Wild blonde mane, and cut cheeks.

Your deep brown eyes met his, your favorite. He perked up, almost up and out of his seat. Toshinori could instantly see the surprise in your eyes. He stammered, thinking he really owed you an explanation as you held your hand out to receive the card from him. The number eight in pink glitter pen ink was scribbled in a corner. Certainly your handwriting. The one you vividly remember handing to All Might. You couldn't say you didn't wonder how he got it.

"I uh...I'm actually All Might's assistant, you see!" He awkwardly laughed, clumsily tugging a roll of cash out his breast pocket. While he was flustered, you scribbled something down on the card with a pen that had been tucked away in your wooly hair. "He couldn't make good use of it, for reasons I'm sure you'll understand, so he passed it on to me. I hope you don't mind?"

Huh...small world.

"Of course not," You slunk like a cat onto his lap and pressed a clawed finger to his lips. He shut the hell up right then and there.

"You know, my boss might get a little mad at me, but if you ask nicely, I'll let you touch. Don't tell anyone, okay?" You gave him a real smile and guided his big, bony hands to your big bottom. You felt his fingers instinctively grip and hold on for dear life beneath the anchor of your tail. 

"You know you're my favorite, too, after all." You whispered in his ear while slipping the card, with your cell phone number on it, back in his breast pocket.

[swampgallows]

therapy today went okay but i feel like i talked too much lmfao. i passed out around like 10pm and now im awake again and uhh hmmm ngngngghghhhmhm

also she asked me like “find out what you wanna get out of therapy and then we can set some goals” lmao i wanna GET FIXED 

i dunno if i am actually mentally ill or if it’s just my mom/environment or if i’m neurodivergent somehow or if i need medication or whatever the fuck it is, i just know that it’s not normal to feel okay one day and then have some minor thing happen that catapults me into feeling suicidal. im doing better lately but that’s why i signed up for therapy NOW because i know when im feeling good i get this delusion of like “haha see i never needed it at all :)” and then some little fucking thing happens (or nothing happens) and suddenly i cant get out of bed for three days. i told her that i think it’s more than my environment because even when i was busy at work and even when i was busy and away from home in college i had extremely persistent and severe depression, got into several different overlapping abusive relationships, nearly failed my classes one semester, and then i got hit by a car, was in a wheelchair for 6 months, then had our car hit by a semi immediately afterward. it’s time for new glasses btw lmao as i am still wearing the same pair that got scratched to shit and annihilated in the accident. lmfao The Accident™

this is a pic of them from the night of the accident and the scratches have only gotten worse. id take a new pic but im in bed in the dark and whatever

the therapist seemed impressed with my psychology knowledge which was kind of discomforting, in a way. i guess im just so used to my own situation and people utilizing the internet to learn about their own head cases that i dont consider it novel to have actually done research. also because with my other experiences i felt like doctors would be dismissive of me as if i was trying to one-up them or something, like “well -I- have the degree and YOU dont” like, well yeah, im not sitting here trying to correct you but i am gonna use the terminology im familiar with even if theyre super special SAT words or w/e (like i’m gonna say shit like “comorbid” and “hypnagogic” because that’s the terminology i use all the time to describe these situations... i throw out “5 dollar words” all the time :\) but i think maybe by also having a video/verbal conversation w me that she knows i’m not sitting there meticulously typing up the most fancy schmancy shit i can find, flippin through a thesaurus like a blood elf nobleman vampire’s purple prose or somethin.

i guess what i wanna get out of therapy is uh

1. i dont want to be suicidal, which means 2. i have to build confidence, which means 3. i have to become self-reliant, or more self-reliant than i am.

she suggested, on the grounds of my mom giving me interrogation any time i try to go out on my own (hence me only feeling comfortable to go out when i fucking sneak out of the house or on the VERY rare occasions that she isn’t home) that i have a written list that i either give to her personally or write out and leave for her to read at her leisure of all the answers to her questions: where ive gone, when i’ll be back, what i’m doing, etc. the problem is coming home, though, because then she reads me the riot act of guilt on anything i did. if i go out and get food, it becomes about her. if i go out and do an errand, it becomes about her. everything i do somehow falls back on her. 

i explained to the therapist that even when i was still working—a perfect chance to learn to drive and drive regularly—i took the bus the entire time. but i’d have to be driven TO the bus stop and then take the bus to work, which meant my mom drove me to the bus every day. and my dad would talk about how good it was for MY MOM to have a reason to get up in the morning, and that it’s good for her because it gives her a kind of schedule or obligation to follow. so then like... my schedule now becomes HER schedule. and i martyr my potential independence of driving to work on my own in order to give my mom a sense of purpose. 

so...every day, mom picked me up from the bus stop, just like she had been for all the years i was in school. of course i never went out and did anything after (or before!) work; i never had the freedom. sure i could tell my mom partway through the day if i was staying late or going somewhere else, but my work was also in the middle of a canyon, five miles of nothing in either direction. if i missed the bus home, i wouldnt have another chance to go home for another hour. so having buses come only once an hour and then also having my mom waiting for me at the stop... it was just too much trouble to say like “hm i think i’ll go grab a smoothie before work” or “maybe i’ll hang with my coworkers a bit and go grab dinner with them” or “maybe i’ll start going to the gym after work”. i couldnt make any executive decisions about my own life. i think that restriction of freedom happens for lower income people too, since youre relying on a (notoriously shitty) bus service to get anywhere and you also cant just throw money around that often. i had a little slush fund to treat myself every so often but i didnt have the access to it. 

EVERY day that i was 20 minutes away from the stop i would have to text my mom the name of the stop (imagine, if it were “maple street” or something, my entire text message history with my mom just being “maple” “k” “maple” “k” back and forth for months) in case she had fallen asleep or was doing something, as the bus would sometimes be late or early or whatever. and sometimes i would delay that text on purpose to have the extra time to buy something from one of the fast food places located at my bus stop, then hide it in the bottom of my bag and hope it wasn’t too aromatic that my mom would notice and ask me about it. 

BECAUSE if i bought food on a day she made dinner, she would flagellate herself about it, and if i bought food on a day that she DIDNT make dinner she would flagellate herself about it. it’s HER FAULT because she doesn’t make food enough that i have to go buy my own :((((, so the one time she does cook i’m already getting food because she’s unreliable :((((, and shit like that, instead of like, just because there IS food doesn’t...mean anything!!!!! maybe i just wanted a certain kind of food that day!! But it becomes about her!!!! everything i do hurts her. everything i do. so i just got adjusted to just... not eating, or eating the same things over and over. eventually, when i was still working, i would eat nothing but a muffin until i came home. and if there was food, i would eat it, and if there wasn’t, then i wouldn’t eat. many nights i went to bed without eating even if there WAS food because i was just so fucking tired.

i dunno i kinda lost my train of thought but basically it’s hard to assert myself because i’m not confident because a lot of the time i dont know if im doing something right. it reminds me a lot of the scene in tangled where rapunzel fucks up and something bad happens to her and her mom catches her in the act, and she uses that to reinforce rapunzel’s dependence on her. like obviously my mom isn’t abusive like that but it makes me afraid to fail and even MORE afraid to even try, because i know that if i DO fail--whatever it is--it will just be more evidence for why i should have just asked her or had her do it. and more evidence, to me, of why im worthless and shitty and incapable of doing anything.

like the other day my mom wanted me to follow her in a separate car to a car place to drop off the car she was driving, and then we’d go home together in one car. but she wanted me to do it at 9 in the fucking morning and let me know two days beforehand. i had been going to BED at like 7am at the time so i was already like ‘man this is gonna suck’. but i was still up in the morning and was getting ready to take a shower, iw as on time, but my mom said “i can tell how tired you are and how nervous you are about doing this so you know what dont worry about it. go back to bed.” and it was really shitty for me because YEAH i was super tired and YEAH i didnt feel like i was capable of driving by myself at that moment, like i probably COULD HAVE if it were an emergency, but my mom talked about doing all this shit afterward like going on a shopping trip and stuff and BASICALLY it’s less that i was afraid of the driving but more that i knew the errand wouldn’t end there. and i had gotten zero sleep and just didnt wanna fucking do it, i didnt wanna have a “girl time :)” outing with my mom, and i knew i’d basically get trapped into hanging out with my mom if i went. so i stayed home. but then that’s also a blow to me because stupid fucking worthless idiot that i am cant even drive ten miles in a fucking car, or whatever, useless leech living with my parents contributing nothing, unemployed for a year, blah blah blah. stupid fucking neet should have never been born etc etc etc

she took an uber home and had glowing reviews about the experience and that’s great for her but the guilt made me throw up because i couldnt even do this minuscule thing. so like, if i DO hand her a note and say “here’s all the shit im going to do, BUH BYE” and some shit happens, or i dont get what i need done, or i dont have a fully developed plan of what i’m doing, then it’s gonna be more ammunition toward what a useless piece of shit i am. like, i dont have good food to eat at the house, but i also have NO APPETITE so nothing sounds good, so i cant even think of what foods i would get if i could. it’s such a jarring opportunity that i would just like...not get anything at all and go home. even when i -did- have the opportunity i just went “Uhh umm uhhh fuck uhhh milk” and got that (AND THEN MY MOM CAME HOME W 2 GALLONS OF MILK FROM COSTCO, SO OF COURSE I -DID SOMETHING WRONG-!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF I JUST LEFT IT UP TO HER INSTEAD OF DARING TO DO SOMETHING MYSELF I WOULDNT HAVE LOOKED LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT AND ENDED UP WITH 3 GALLONS OF MILK AT THE HOUSE) of course i drank the milk i bought, it’s not like it went to waste, but i was CAUGHT because there were now THREE instead of the one gallon covertly getting replaced. instead of me doing something helpful i did something that became an inconvenience.

it’s just little shit but it all adds up. it’s been all of these little fucking things forever and ever and ever, just like my mom’s hoarded garbage. “i bought just a couple of things”, innumerable times throughout the duration of my entire life, forever and ever, “just a few small things” over and over until it’s suffocating.  it’s just all this little shit all the fucking time and it’s suffocating.

naturally, the therapist sent me an article on “daughters of narcissistic mothers”. this will be a delight to read, i’m sure.