#if youre unaware they are known to curl into ball for protection and to hide head while exposing blunt tail which may act as decoy head

[moon0shadow]

Obey Me Brothers in Heat but instead of them being horny, they're just hella broody like how chickens and birds get.

Part 1: Lucifer

TW: Animal-Like Behavior, Mentions of 'Heat' Cycles, Possessiveness, Mentions of Skipped Meals , Brothers being weird towards The Human Exchange Student as usual.

MC with They/Them Pronouns and no specified gender, Use of 'You' pronouns too because my dumb writer brain can't decide on which to use.

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Demons have a phase where they go into heat in a way, becoming more territorial, protective, their demons form out and looking more feral than usual and most stereotypically, they get hella horny. But not all demons get the need to bone and instead their heat fuels more parental instincts instead. Lucifer and his brothers are clear examples of this, perhaps being fallen angels fuels this side of them, who knows.

🦚 Lucifer: - Lucifer's broodiness is known the most due to being the eldest brother, before MC came along, Lucifer would often kidnap one or occasionally two of his brothers and keep them in whatever nest he had made, usually in his bedroom or office, anywhere he felt safest during his broods. His brothers often try to hide when Lucifer gets broody so MC is a literal sacrificial lamb as they were left unaware of this fact until they saw Lucifer lumbering towards them one morning before snatching them up with no explanation.

- MC would find themselves in Lucifer's study, forced to lay in a pile of various blankets, pillows and even clothes from Lucifer's bedroom, it'll smell like a chicken coop (a fancy chicken coop but still) with scattered feathers all over the place. Any attempt at escape is futile as Lucifer will drag you back to his nest regardless of how hard you try to escape it. Same thing if anybody were to have the balls to actually try and separate Lucifer from you, they'd probably end up curled up on the floor in pain if they actually tried to prevent Lucifer from brooding his 'chick'.

- Due to the fear of babybird escape attempts, Lucifer would often go without eating for the duration of his brood cycle, always watching and preventing you from leaving. Due to this, his Brothers tend to leave various foods and water bottles outside his 'den' for both you and him but mostly you, Lucifer is a demon so a week or so without food wouldn't necessarily hurt him but you're human and humans need food and water everyday of course. Lucifer will try and feed you like how a mama bird does and yes, he will get angry if you refuse so you might as well just accept the imaginary airplane coming towards your face.

- His cuddles are nice though, he likes to curl up against you with his wings obscuring your form from view, protecting you from everything that could hurt you. Once his cycle is over, he tends to act like nothing happened, usually too ashamed over how he acts during his broods, he warns his brothers to never speak of it or else... Outside of his broods, he'll catch himself referring to you as 'Chick' or 'Babybird', best not to tease him about it or you'll end up back in the nest where you belong.

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[iamdunn]

Myrnah

Story of Mau & Manny

Written by

AJ Dunn

Mau sat shivering in the cold. The rain poured down on her as the night seemed to go on and on. Dark clouds poured rain in thick heavy drops. Her stomach ached from hunger, as she hadn't had a real meal in days. Not since her half-brother cast her out of Marida. A very peculiar turn of events had landed her stranded in a forest far from her home. She was lost and alone as she sat and cried. This all happened just days ago.

In the capital city of Marida, Shytah and his wife Buhimmish sat as elders to the Gods in a temple as old as time. Shytah had one son from a previous wife and his name was Shefertem. Whhen Shefertem was nut a young boy, Shytah took Buhimish as his and she bore him a daughter. Mau had long thick black hair, and tan colored skin. When she cried, every cat in the village came to comfort her. Her dark eyes like onyx gems gleamed with joy at every wondrous sight she seen. Life seemed to dance around her and her parents doted upon her every blessing the Gods would grant them. Shefertem was very jealous growing up with her getting all of the attention from everyone.

By the time Mau was in her 16th year, she had explored every hall in the great temple, and knew all the stories written in hieroglyphs on the walls. Stories depicting a time of great prosperity in a far off region of Myrnah that was once known as the great Gardens. Now desolate and barren, the land is known as the Badlands or Ontura's Dessert. A war once broke out there after a woman was scorned and left by her love. She wrought her revenge and was damned by the Gods to live an eternity in her own Dessert. Buhimmish would tell Mau, to never allow her scorn to burn her up like the rage that caused Ontura's downfall.

"Bring peace where you walk my child." She would say. "For love will endure all things." Then she would sing her to sleep with twinkling lights dancing overhead. "Not all stories end with a happy tune." She'd say, "Some start with one." Mau's life certainly started with a happy tune. She barely knew life outside of the temple and even in the city she'd see the people, but rarely mingled with any other than those brought in to cater to her needs. She would see others but was not allowed to partake of their lives. The stable folks would saddle a horse for her, but she wasn't allowed to play with their son. Even though the boy whose name she never knew would watch her with his dark longing eyes while his father taught her how to ride.

Mau would bore easily, the lack of children her age to mingle with was stupefying. She watched the stable boy from her room as he brushed the horses. Sometimes he would climb a tree unaware of her watching him. She saw him one day plucking apples from the Temple trees. A look of fear crossed his face when he realized he had been seen. Mau placed one finger over her lips. The boy smiled at her. The very next day she found a rose placed on her balcony where she would sit.

Mau found herself getting lost in the halls of the temple one day. She decided to step outside of the bounds her parents had always set for her. Watching the stable boy do something he knew to be wrong, didn't seem to be harmful. She slipped down a corridor she had never been. A place that was dark with sandstone walls and steps going down a long narrow stairway. She lit a torch once she was far enough down she didn't think anyone would spot her. At the bottom of the steps was a circular room with hieroglyphs she had never seen before. Stories and images seemed to dance on the walls with jewels carved into the sandstone walls. Shapes of creatures she had never seen before. Three great lights danced in the sky unlike the two suns that hung there now. The red sun which shines in the day, and a blue sun at night. This made the sky purple and it was never dark. The light of the blue sun made it darker than the day, but not as dark as the images depicted on the wall. A bright yellow sun shone over a garden full of purple flowers. A Dimmer blue light shone over a darkened land where all you could see was silhouettes of the structures. Mau sat before these images for hours before she heard someone coming down the corridor. Mau quickly plunged her torch into a barrel of water that always sits below every torch. She quickly hid in the corner. There were several closed doors but Mau had not dared to venture beyond them. But as the light of someone else' torch brighten with every step Mau pushed hard on the nearest door and flung herself inside closing it gently behind her.

She heard a door open up outside her door. Then she heard voices.

"When do you want it done?" A man asked with a shaky voice.

"Soon." She heard Shefertem speak. "Her 18th year is upon her, and I fear what that will bring to my birthright." Mau began to question what her brother was talking about. She was only 16 years, 17 in a few days, and how would her 18th threaten his birthright, he was the elder child. Mau heard a mouse scurry across the floor kicking up dust as it flew past her. Mau sneezed then suddenly covered her mouth hoping no one had noticed. The voices stopped. "You may have your chance sooner than later." Shefertem said. Footsteps came closer then the door to the room Mau was hiding in opened. The light from Shefertems torch brightened the room so that Mau could see that what she was sitting in was a shrine to the Goddess Glorah. Images of her white tigress face and paws, her tail dancing about behind her. A gentle white gown with slits up to the hips on both side showing a very feminine and fierce woman. A voss of purple flowers painted along the side sat on an ivory pedestal.

"You are making this too easy little sister." Shefertem smirked.

"You get the throne Shef." Mau stammered. "Your older than me and you get the throne not me. You'll be 18 this year."

"Your wrong Mau." Shefertem squatted right in front of her holding the torch above her head. "They've lied to you for almost 18 years. She is not your mother, she's mine!" Shefertem reached out with his left hand striking her across the face. Mau could see the shadowy figure in the doorway cringe at the sound from the corner of her eyes. Her face turned away from Shefertem as tears began to escape down her cheek kissing her burning face. Mau had never been struck before. "How is that Mau? How do you like to feel pain? You have caused me so much pain for so many years." Shefertem stood up turning to the shadow in the doorway. "Well, here's your chance. I want her dead and gone."

"Wh...what shall I do with the body sir?" the man gulped

"Your a spell caster are you not?" Shefertem smirked. "I have a pest problem, get rid of it for me." The words came out cold and unfamiliar as Shefertem stepped passed the man and left the room. Mau looked up to see the man standing in the light of another torch that had been place on the sconce in the round room. The man turned and watched Shefertem leave then turned back to Mau. Fear ran through her veins hot and she began to sweat. Yet she shivered as if the heat was so deep in her body it could not warm her skin. Mau coward in the corner. He stepped into the chamber closing the door behind him blocking out the light. He began to chant words she had never heard. Suddenly light blossomed so bright she couldn't see anything. She turned over to her knees and hands and tried to crawl away from the man but there was nowhere to go. So she curled up in a ball underneath the picture of Glorah. She began to say the prayer her mother told her to say if she was ever in grave danger like this.

"Oh Glorah mother of thy own, around me cast your warmth and love protect me from the darkness and keep me safe from harm." Mau chanted it over and over until she began to feel dizzy and sleepy. She forgot what she had been chanting the prayer for and fell asleep. It was just a dream.

Mau woke to darkness. She couldn't remember anything. She tried to look around but the room was without any light. Mau had never felt so cold and alone. The floor was hard. She struggled to come to grips with what had happened. She couldn't see or hear anything and she had no idea how long she had been asleep. Mau just layed there. Her head was still swimming and she felt very heavy. She could hear footsteps coming down the stairs and a faint sound of voices. Shefertem was coming back with the spell caster. The door opened and only the spell caster stepped in. He was carrying a bag in his hand. Mau closed her eyes until only a slit remained of view. She hoped he would think her dead or asleep and leave her alone. He reached down and nudged her with his hand. He then began to run his hand along her back. Mau was confused by this sensation. She couldn't feel his hand on her skin, but also she couldn't feel the clothes she had been wearing.

Mau looked up at him but he simply placed his finger over his lips then nudged her head back to the floor. Mau closed her eyes again.

"It worked. Hand me her clothes there on the floor and I'll take your pest to be disposed of." the man said turning to Shefertem. Mau could barely see Shefertem hand him the dress she had been wearing. Fear of herself lying there naked on the floor, and how did her clothes get taken off. Mau's heart began to race. What did he do to me. The man stuffed her clothes into the bag then slid the bag under her backside and slid it up over her body. It felt awkward as she could feel her knees against her belly but her feet weren't by her butt. Her hands were under her face. Mau began to acclimate herself with her own position for the first time as she slid inside the bag and was lifted from the ground. It wasn't a very big bag, and she was lifted with much ease.

"You assure me she is dead?" Shefertem asked

"She got exactly what she deserves, sir." the man said and began to walk. Mau curled up in the bag curious as to her current predicament. The man was hired to kill her and haul off her dead body. How is he going to get out of the temple with a bag over his shoulder and her dead body inside. Mau attempted to brush the hair from her face only to realize she has no fingers. Instead, she had a paw.

[fallenqueen2]

BatFamily Week 2020 Day 1-Meta-Human AU

Batfamily Week 2020

Day 1- Overprotectiveness | Meeting the Justice League | Meta-Human AU

Ao3 Link

Batfamweek2020 Tag

Tags: batfamweek2020, Meta-Human AU, Meta-Human Dick Grayson, Meta-Human Bruce Wayne, Meta-Human Damian Wayne, Meta-Human Alfred Pennyworth, canon-level violence, Damian is Robin, Dick Grayson as Batman

Created for @official-batfam-week

Damian’s eyes widened as the latest thug fell victim to his sword, none-lethal of course but still painful. A man with a gun had snuck up behind Grayson, behind his Batman who was distracted with knocking out Black Mask properly. Damian didn’t hesitate as he had been learning to do since arriving in Gotham, this time he knew Grayson wouldn’t have time to move, that the bullet was aimed for his skull and would kill him even with the protection of the cowl.

Damian allowed his training to come out in full and he reached out with the power he had hidden within himself, a power his grandfather and mother had gloated over and trained to an excessive amount. The world slowed down to a complete stop around him, birds were caught in flight and the thug who dared to aim a gun at his Batman was moving like he was caught in molasses. Damian, however, wasn’t hindered by the stopping of time, caught between one second and the night Damian placed himself between the thug and his Batman.

His sword glinting as he swung it, taking the thug’s arm along with the gun and Damian let time flow back to normal. The man blinked before screaming in pain as blood spurted from where his lower arm used to be, he clutched at the stump and stumbled backwards before his eyes rolled up and he collapsed from the pain.

“Robin?” Batman’s voice ticked up and Damian knew he had blown it, his power had discovered after all this time. He knew the rule about Gotham, no Meta’s and after that display, he knew he had broken that rule.

“I thought as much, come here, Robin.” Batman held his hand out, not looking away from Damian even as he kicked Black Mask in the stomach when he attempted to shuffle away. Black Mask coughed and lay on his side, obviously knowing when he was beaten.

“Allow me time to gather my belongings and I shall be out of Gotham within the night,” Damian said stiffly, sheathing his sword and looking away from Batman’s extended hand.

“You’re not going anywhere, it would be hypocritical of me if I sent you out of Gotham for being a Meta.” Batman sounded amused and Damian blinked in shock at both the words spoken and the way Batman curled his arms around him, cape draping over both of them in a shield. Damian gasped and shielded his eyes as a bright, blinding light burst to life around the two.

Damian blinked the spots out of his eyes and they widened in shock when he realized the duo were back in the Bat cave.

“How did you do that?” Damian demanded, confusion and excitement coursing in his veins as he twisted out of Grayson’s hold. Grayson shed the cowl of the suit and smiled brightly at Damian who peeled off his cowl as well, needing answers.

“Bruce’s no meta-rule was made to keep the League and powered rouges out of Gotham. Meta’s are everywhere in Gotham, hell B was a Meta.” Grayson confessed and Damian had to move over to a chair to sit down, he had not known that. His father had been a Meta-Human? Why did Mother not know about this? Why had he not known about this?

“My powers and his powers funny enough were the same yet the opposite. It made learning hard some days and fun other days.” Grayson chuckled as he leaned against the edge of the Bat computer.

“What was? What were my Father’s powers?” Damian’s voice was rough as he gripped the bottom of his uniform.

“Shadow control, there is a reason Batman could fade into shadows so well. I have light control and I will admit fading into the shadows some days as Batman is harder than it should be.” Grayson chuckled as he held his hand up and a ball of pure, bright light form about an inch above his palm. Damian watched it with interest obvious on his face.

“I can create barriers, can move through light partials hence how we got from the alley to the cave and sometimes even weapons in times of need. B taught me how to do all of that as he could do the same but with shadows.” Grayson explained as he let the ball dance around his fingers.

“What is yours Lil D?” Grayson asked as he formed a few more balls and let them playfully dance around Damian who refused to laugh even though he wanted to at the display.

“I call it time stasis,” Damian said proudly as he cupped his hands to allow on of the balls of light to settle against his skin, the light was warm and comforting in the way Damian was coming to associate with Grayson.

“Fitting, thank you for risking yourself to save me tonight.” Grayson ruffled Damian’s hair with a happy smile on his face.

“Tch, it is Robin’s duty to watch their Batman’s back isn’t it?” Damian parroted back and kept his gaze on the ball of light in his hands to avoid looking at the pleased and proud look Grayson was sending in his direction.

“That it is,” Grayson said softly, eyes distant for a moment as if caught in a memory.

“Robin belongs at Batman’s side, you are not leaving Gotham Lil D I won’t allow it. Let’s just think of our powers as another secret our family hides.” Grayson said easily and something inside of Damian relaxed and he nodded silently as he stroked the warm ball of light.

“When you boys are ready, there is food in the kitchen waiting for you,” Pennyworth said and Damian jerked unaware Pennyworth had been in the cave.

“Thanks, Alfie,” Grayson chirped before turning to change out of the suit. Damian followed suit, pleased that the balls of light seemed to follow him.

“Oh and Alfred has something he calls multi-presence, he’s not only down here he is also up in the kitchen cooking and in our bedrooms making sure the beds are turned down,” Grayson commented with a smirk and Damian stared at him while blinking a few times, apparently he had spent nights worrying about his powers for no reason.

“Does anyone else have powers I should know about Grayson?” Damian asked and only got a mysterious smile in reply as Grayson whistled on his way up out of the cave.

“Grayson? Grayson?” Damian darted up after his Batman who just cackled in reply.

[cchellacat]

Thank You For Your Service:Pt4

Wintershock:  Bucky/Darcy  18+ SMUT and Angst and Misunderstandings. Mention of rape very briefly, no details.

The Office

Bucky lets Darcy go regretfully, watches as the door closes and goes back to his desk, sitting heavily in the chair, feeling as though a great weight has been settled on his shoulders.  He wishes he’d never taken this job, then shakes his head. No, if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met her in the first place and he’s glad he met her, she’s something special, he feels different just for meeting her.  No, he wishes Stark hadn’t come to him with the news he did, that has put him in such a difficult position.  

She’d been sharp, eyes darting about scanning papers as she’d nervously asked him out. He’d been quick enough to casually move the file off to one side and cover the paperwork Stark had briefed him on three days ago.

The information contained within something he can’t share with Darcy.  Something he thinks she should probably know, but after reading the files and seeing the evidence he also understands where Stark is coming from.  The threat to Darcy is very real and not one he can ignore or pass off to another team. She needs his protection because no one else can hope to keep her safe from the threat that’s coming for her.

He pulls the papers out again and flicks through the photographs of the prison cell.  Darcy’s picture, cut from newspapers and magazines taken at functions and conferences she had attended with Jane or Stark Industries, papers the walls of the cell. Drawings and journals worth of obsessive scribbling full of the man’s sick fantasies about the girl he knows he’s falling for take up the pages.  

Robert Keene.  He was an ex police cadet who Darcy had met while she was in college.  They’d dated for six months before Keene got violent and jealous and raped and beat Darcy to within and inch of her life for staying out to a party too late, or so he claimed, he’d had no remorse for his actions.  He’d been convicted of aggravated attempted manslaughter, was meant to be serving life imprisonment but the recent outbreak of inhuman transformations had hit prisons too.

Keene was powered, exactly how was unknown but he was strong enough to tear the door from his cell and escape.  The fact that he’d kept up his obsession with Darcy for the last ten years was horrifying and more than concerning.  All profiles pointed to him targeting her, but neither Coulson, the FBI or Stark had managed to get a bead on the guy.  The only thing they could do was watch. Watch and wait and hope they caught him before he came here for her. Bucky could feel it in his bones, that the man wasn’t just going to hide, he was going to come for her and when he did, Bucky would be waiting.  

The whole situation has been complicated by how he feels about Darcy.  He feels drawn to her, just being in her presence made him feel things he’s not ready to name or give voice to.  It’s more than just her beauty, she’s bright on the inside, vital and warm.

She’s not wrong, he feels more than he should for her considering how little they had spoken.   He’d never listened to people who talked about love at first sight, thought the whole thing sounded like a load of bunk.  Yet he’d seen it happen before, hadn’t he? The way Steve had fallen for Peggy, love sick idiot that he was.

It feels wrong to know this much about her and have her unaware.  It makes him feel sick and guilty inside and it’s just one more reason why he can’t get involved with her.  He can’t be with her and not tell her, and he thinks the last thing she wants is him knowing what happened to her, it too intimate, too private, he feels like he’s breaking her trust, but it’s part of the job.  To protect someone you have to know what the threats are, that means information they might not want to share. He doesn’t think she realises just how thorough he’s had to be in order to do his job properly.

Stark doesn’t want Darcy to know about Keene and Bucky can’t tell her without violating his employment contract. He also wants to protect her from this. Doesn’t think she should have to live with that sort of fear over her head, the bastard had already hurt her enough, he shouldn’t be something she has to worry or even think about ever again.  

If he catches Keene he knows the other man won’t escape him alive, he’s already got a kill order from both Shield and the FBI. Both organisations having dropped the ball and wanting the matter tidied up quietly. It’s the only time in his life he thinks he’s been happy to accept one, relished it in fact.

He’d known the second Stark had walked into his office, mouth grim with some unidentifiable rage, that what the man had to tell him was bad.  He’d taken the files Stark handed him, the usual manic sarcasm and energy missing and read through them wordlessly, blood draining from his face as he’d seen the photographic evidence of what Keene had done to her.  The anger he’d felt had barely been controllable. He understood Stark’s insistence on the restrictions around Darcy now, knew it wasn’t just his being an overprotective father. That’s when he’d known he couldn’t peruse her, not now. Not until she was safe, and Keene was eliminated.

The Library

Kissing Darcy leaves his body tense and aching to do so much more than just kiss her.  The weight of her in his lap, the soft curve of her ass, the brush of silk soft skin and the heady perfume of want and jasmine had him gripping her tight.   The curl of her hair and the way she moans low in the back of her throat has his cock throbbing, if they hadn’t been in a public library he’d have bent her over the chair and made then both forget who they were.  

He’s not sure if he’s thankful or furious at the phone call when it breaks the spell between them. He wants to kick himself when he sees the hurt in her eyes as she slides off his lap, somehow able to read his own expression.  He wishes he could explain to her, tell her that the only thing he wants is her, that he needs her like he needs air, but he still has a job to do and this, them getting caught up in each other, this is part of the problem  He’ll get them both dead if he doesn’t reign it in.

The longer he spends in her presence the harder it is to keep his distance.  Even with her new insistence that he calls her Miss Lewis and the way she tries so hard not to look at him is sending him on a conflicting journey, torn between wanting to protect her and wanting to confess everything and take her to bed with him where she belongs.  

He spends days tracking leads and making sure she’s safe every hour of the day.  Part of him whispers the whole thing would be easier if he just took her away somewhere, just the two of them, somewhere remote where they could forget the world.  

She stays mostly in the labs once Dr Forster returns, sends him her schedule as she promised and holds herself tightly when she’s in his presence.

It’s been five weeks of cold showers and sleepless nights.  He finds himself dreaming of her when he sleeps, the memory of what it feels like buried in her tight heat an agonising gift.

There’s been two attempts to breach the Tower, both times nothing was caught on camera and both times he knows it wasn’t some random spy or agency.  This was Keene. Bucky can almost feel the man watching them, he’s sure he’s not far, just waiting for his moment to grab her when she’s not being protected.  He spends hours poring over footage hoping that the man will make a mistake.

She sends him a text on Friday afternoon with an updated event.  Dinner at some fancy restaurant in Long Island. It’s unexpected, a break in the routine she’s made.  For that alone he doesn’t object.

He’s waiting in the lobby when she steps off the elevator.  When he sees her his breath catches. The dress is a dark red with burnished gold accents, it clings to every curve before flaring out from her hips and resting just above the knee.  Her hair falls in curling waves down her back, she looks like sin. The rush of blood in his ears as he holds the door open for her means he misses the click of the camera taken by some paparazzi outside the Tower.  Doesn’t in fact register it till it’s too late to get a look at the man.

The drive is quiet, Darcy looking out the window, still keeping her distance.  Eventually he can’t stand the silence.

“Who are you meeting for dinner?  You didn’t mention.”

She turns her head and finally meets his eyes.  Blue fire dancing in their depths.

“Does it matter?”

“It would help.”

“So you can what?  Do a background check?  I’m 32 not twelve. If Tony wants to know who my dinner date is, he can ask me himself.”

A lead weight settles in his stomach.  So it is a date. She’s going on a date with some guy he knows nothing about.  He knows he doesn’t have any right to judge, to feel jealous, but the flame of it burns in his gut, hurt and angry and green.  His jaw tightens, he can feel the tick working its way into the muscle. There’s barely a foot between them in the back seat of the limo.  He’s insisted on a driver tonight because of the location and it gave him a backup, someone who could drive her to safety if he had to stay behind.

He wonders if he should just have sat up front, but shakes the notion away.  No, he had to be here, if there was an accident he wouldn’t be able to help her from the front of the limo.  The rest of the drive was spent in a tense silence, both of them aware of every shift and breath, eyes occasionally meet then looking quickly away. But the time they arrive Bucky is hyper aware of everything and Darcy’s fists have long since went white from how hard she had been clutching the material of her skirt.  He lets Roth open her door and gets out himself, trailing a few feet behind her, ignoring the temptation to grab her and throw her back in the car and take her home where he could take that dress off her and loose himself between her legs, bury his face in her cunt and make her beg for him.

The restaurant is a modest little bistro by the waterfront. It’s busy but not overly so.  It’s almost rustic in decor, exposed brick and black chalkboards and heavy wooden tables, lovingly polished, marred only by scratches and dents created by the decades of meals shared and memories made in the small eatery.   It’s the sort of place he would have chosen to take her himself and the knowledge like ash in his mouth.

He takes a table on the other side of the room and orders water.  His eyes were on Darcy the whole time as she is escorted to her table and the man waiting for her.  The clink of glasses and the scrape of cutlery sounds distant over the whisper of voices and the soft music playing over the sound system.  It leaves him on edge that he can’t hear everything they say.

The guy’s about her age, tall, maybe even a little taller than him, dark red hair and a Hollywood smile.  Bucky tenses as the man leans down to envelope her in a hug. Darcy hugs him back and smiles. It’s not her fake smile or her polite smile, he’s seen them both before, it’s a real smile, something genuine, meaningful.   It makes him want to punch the guy in his perfect teeth.

It’s torture sitting there, catching fleeting snippets of conversation.  Hearing Darcy laugh at his jokes, her tinkling laugh crossing the space between them and causing his gut to clench.  They talk all through dinner, take their time over desert and still Bucky sips his water, eyes keeping a regular scan of the room.  He leaves the table twice to do a perimeter check, keeps contact with Roth outside and tries not to let his gaze linger too long on her.  

She kisses the guy, Scooter, he heard her call him, goodbye, it’s just a peck on the cheek but something dark wells in Bucky’s chest seeing it, seeing how the man’s hand lingers on the curve of her waist. It takes more restraint than he thought himself capable of, to standby and watch.  

The sun is long down by the time they leave the waterfront. He’s tempted to get into the front of the car, put some much-needed space between them, for his own piece of mind if nothing else but at the same time every atom of him is drawn to her like metal filings to a magnet.  It’s an hour-long drive back to the city, he doesn’t make it fifteen before he opens his mouth.

“Are you seeing him again?”

She’d been lost in her own head staring out the window when the question slams into her.  She’d felt his eyes, hot on her, the whole night, even from a half a room away. She’d ignored it, intent on having a good time and forgetting the shit storm her life had recently become.  Her head whips round to look at him, sees the way his eye twitches impatiently as he waits for her to answer.

“Probably.  He’s new to the city, he’ll need someone to show him around.”

His jaw clenches and she turns away, so not ready for whatever fight he seems intent on starting.

“What kind of name is Scooter, anyway?”  

It makes her spine stiffen, his sneering tone making her defensive.  Not that she needed to be, she’d done nothing wrong.

“Were you eavesdropping on my conversation? And why does it matter what his name is?”

The way his had lip curled around Scott’s nickname made her feel oddly triumphant.  

“If you’re going to be spending time with him, I need his full name, especially if you’re going to … entertain him in the Tower.”

Bucky couldn’t hold back the spike of jealous ire in his tone or the judgemental comment.  He bit his lip before he could say more but she was already glaring at him, eyes sparking in the dim light.

He’s glad now for the privacy window, keeping Roth from seeing them or hearing their conversation.

Darcy turned to face him properly, furious about his insinuation.

“You’ve got no right to speak to me like that, you’re not my boyfriend Barnes.  You never were.”

She’d right and he hates that she is because all he wants is to tell her how wrong she is, that he wants to be exactly that and so much more.  Instead the impulse to lash out wins.

“Still pissed that I turned you down sweetheart? You’ll have to do better than that to get my attention”

Darcy’s eyes sting, tears of angry humiliation warring to appear.  What the hell was he trying to say?  It sounded like he was livid with jealousy, but he’d turned her down so many times, where the hell was this even going? He couldn’t actually be...

“Oh my god! You’re jealous!”  Was he for real?

“Jealous?  Of that guy?  He didn’t even have the guts to kiss you. If you want to make me jealous you’d have to do better than that.”  

The words were shot back quickly, too quickly.  Darcy’s eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Believe it or not, but my life doesn’t revolve around you and the twenty minutes we spent fucking.  I don’t need to explain anything to you, so you can keep your judgement to yourself. Besides if I wanted to make you jealous you’d know it.  I’d have went home with him and made you wait outside while I let him pound me into a mattress.”  The lie left her mouth easily in the heat of the moment, searching for some way to make him react to the constant strain and tension, to hurt him for his accusations and assumptions.

“You think that guy could make you scream the way I can?”  

Cutting and dark, his response feels like another blow. She wants to say yes, but even with his unjustified jealousy she keeps the worst of what she could say locked down.

“Screw you.”

“You already did, Doll.”

She grabs her phone from her purse, pulse racing and furious. He was going too far, she couldn't spent the next forty-five minutes in the car with him.  She’d get out and wait for Scot to pick her up, he’d not be far behind them, she knew he’d be happy to help her, to give her the escape she needed right now, it’s what old friends were for after all.

“What do you think you’re doing?”  he askes seeing her bring up Scooters contact in her phone.

“What does it look like, I’m making a booty call, you can have Roth drop me off at the next block, I’ll wait for Scot to pick me up.”

He grabbed the phone and pocketed it.

“No, you’re not, I’m still doing my job and you can’t go waltzing off without giving me the chance to make sure it’s safe first. Do you even know this guy from Adam?  What was he, some guy you picked up on some sleazy app?”

“What do you care?  I can fuck who I want.”

“No, you can’t.”

He saw the slap coming and before she could follow through, he’d grabbed her wrist.

“You can’t tell me what to do, or dictate who I sleep with” Darcy hissed, trying to twist her hand away from him. God he was such a self-righteous prick. A grade A-asshole who looked far too good in a suit.  Even with his expression dangerous, eyes hooded and dark she felt the familiar pull drawing her to him.  

“The hell I can’t!”

“You can’t, you turned me down, remember?”  

The angry bitter words strike a chord in him.  He can’t date her but he can’t stand the thought of her going to another guys bed, letting some stranger touch her and kiss her, feel her.  

He did remember, all too well exactly, how fucked up the whole situation was, how he’d told her they couldn’t be anything more.  But now she’s right in front of him, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red and he’s having a hard time trying to remember why he shouldn't be doing this.  

For a long time he hadn’t wanted anything for himself.  Had been living in some limbo where he’s existed, day to day.  Then she’d come into his life and he’d remembered what it was to want something. Not just sex, but something more.  He wanted to spend the day with her, cuddled on the couch watching a movie, take her to the park and feed the ducks, he wanted real moments with her, she made him think about the future, one where he took back who he had been and knitted it together with who he had become and transform into something new, someone who could come home to pretty dame and dance barefoot in a kitchen to a radio.  

He gentles the grip he has on her wrist but tugs her closer.  He can feel her shaking even as she allows him to draw her near.  She lets him brush his lips over hers and her hand clutches his shoulder.  It’s like the world holds its breath between one second and the next.  He wants her, but he won’t force it… She kisses him back, and time moves again.  She tastes like dark chocolate and bad decisions. Sweet and bitter with a promise of regret.  He doesn’t care. Just knows he wants to show her that’s she’s his. That he wants her as much as she wants him. That she makes him crazy and reckless and none of it matters if he can just bury his cock deep inside her soft pussy and lay his claim.  If he can only mark her as deeply as she seems to have done to him.

His eyes soften just enough that when he relaxes his hold on her she lets him pull her in, lets him kiss her.  She’s still annoyed, still twisted in knots over knowing his jealousy is real and tangible. The moment his lips cover hers she’s lost.  The fleeting thought of setting him straight about Scot dies on her tongue as his sweeps into her mouth, licking at her and causing a flood of wetness to dampen her panties.  The heat of desire rushes through her, she’s shaking from a dizzy combination adrenalin and weeks worth of frustration. It’s an easy choice to make, for these next moments, she’s his, she wants him, knows he already runs in her veins, it was never going to be no. She kisses him back, lets out a mewing whimper and cleaves to him.

Air electric, they come together, breath thin, heat climbing.  Hands reaching for the other, clothes discarded or pushed out of the way.  Lips warring desperately, trying to gain the upper hand. It’s a mess of teeth and tongue, growls and moans filling the air as they break themselves on the passion between them.

Strong hands grip Darcy’s waist, pulling her to straddle his lap, a choked gasp and muttered curse as he pulls her core tightly against his erection, straining under the dress pants he’s wearing.  

He can feel the heat of her, the dampness that soaks through to him.  She grinds down, her hips circling and rocking, demanding more. The pull between then undeniable as he loses himself in the scent of her, in the thrumming beat of her heart filling his ears.  He could live a hundred lifetimes but he knew that this connection he felt to her, he would never experience this again, not with anyone else.

Darcy deftly unbuttons Bucky’s shirt while her lips kiss and nibble down his neck, whimpering as he helpes her rock against him, even between two layers of cloth she could feel his need for her, her clit aching insistently with each tilt of her hips.  There wasn’t any thought of where they were, cramped in the back of the limo. No concern reached her mind of being caught or overheard. Her whole being was focused on the feel of his body under hers, determined to strip away the barriers between them so she could finally feel all of him against her.  Between punishing kisses and soft curses the rest of their clothes were stripped away.

When there was finally nothing between them, he pulled her close, the hard lines and planes of him pressing into her soft curves, Darcy shuddered at the feel of skin on skin, at the sensation of his strong arms banded round her, holding her, one hand gripped tightly in her hair as he kissed at the juncture of her neck, sucking and licking, raising bruises with his tongue.  Her hips jerked, searching for him, begging for more, desire soaking her thighs, pussy aching for relief but he held her still as he worked his mouth down her chest before drawing one rosy nub into his mouth. She cried out his name, arching in his grip, her walls clenching around nothing.

“Please…  please… Please, I need you…”  He was torturing her, she needed him inside her.

“Who do you need doll?”  The rough growl whispered next to her ear.

“You… I need you.”  She shook in his arms, tears gathering in her lashes, the cool metal of his arm on her heated skin another counterpoint of bliss.

“Are you sure, it’s me you need?”

She knew what he wanted her to say, could feel the possessive way his hand finally trailed around, over her ass, fingers stroking circles into the skin of her inner thigh, close to where she needed and wanted him, waiting for her answer.

“Yes, I need you, Bucky… please…”

“What do you need baby doll, talk to me.”

“I need you inside me, need you to fill me up with your cock… please.”  She begs again, almost whining as her hands thread into his hair, pulling his head until he looked at her, foreheads touching.

His fingers finally move, find her slippery and wet, stroke gently through her folds, teasing and slow, skirting around her clit them back to her core, barely dipping in then back up again, each time increasing the pressure on her clit as he holds her gaze.  She feels naked on the inside, it’s like he’s in her head, stealing all her secrets.

“Tell me who you belong to baby girl.”

She’s on the edge, hanging by a thread, he won’t let her cum, she knows, not till she gives him his answer.  All of this because he’s jealous. She would laugh but she’s closing in on hysterical. The answer leaves her lips reluctantly, but that makes it no less true. His eyes aren’t hard as they continue to stare, his tone no longer tinged with anger, but pleading, just as hers had been.

“You.  I belong to you.”  His eyes darken and the kiss he gifts her sears her to the core.

He grasps his cock and pulls it through her slick, drenching himself in her juices, then he’s nudging her open, the thick head barely breaching her, still, he hesitates for a moment, his expression changes and it’s him that’s begging silent permission from her as he lets the powerful hold he has on her hip go.  

A rush of affection and understanding flows through her mind and she draws him into a deep kiss, hovering in his lap.  Now it’s her with the power, it’s her that’s in charge, it makes her want it all. Everything with this man, no matter how complicated it is. She sinks onto him, feels the powerful play of hard muscles beneath his skin where her hands hold herself steady on his shoulders as he restrains himself from thrusting up into her, letting her lead.  

He kisses her back hard as she slowly impales herself on his hard length, cursing under his breath until she’s seated on him fully.

She thinks her heart might stop from the delirious sensation of him filling and stretching her.  She catches his bottom lip between her teeth possessively before letting go and soothing it with a soft lick.

“Mine.”  She declares, certainty colouring her eyes before he growls his accent to her and then flips her beneath him, her body pinned to the wide leather seat as he begins to drive into her, her words muttered back to her with each thrust.

He takes Darcy in a steady rhythm, each stroke inside her silken heat precise and deliberate. This isn’t the breathless fun of their first time or the aggressive coupling in the elevator, it’s so much more.  There’s still the push and pull as they cling to one another, but it’s different. She’s his and he’s hers, they’re demanding the promise from the other with each kiss and caress, with the desperate press of bodies when he buries himself to the hilt, the way her hips meet him thrust for thrust, her heels insistently pulling him closer and deeper until he feels her warmth flutter around him and she cries out his name, chanting into his ear as his thrusts lose their cadence and he’s fucking into her, control on a knife edge as she trebles and comes apart on his cock. 

His hips stutter, her name and whispered declarations fall from his tongue as he looses himself in her sweet softness, coming deep within her, painting her womb with his seed, flooding her with heat.

Darcy arches up, capturing his mouth with hers in a filthy affirming kiss as he slows before making one last snap of his hips burying himself in her depths, completely spent.  He can feel wetness on his cheeks, his face tucked into the crook of her neck and he nuzzles closer, lost in the exhaustion of emotion, his arms holding her tightly as she clings to him still, tiny hands skimming patterns into his back, nails scraping gently at the back on his neck. Lying there with her safely tucked beneath him he knows in his bones that this isn’t just need or want. He’s in love with her, irrevocably and completely head over heels for her. She’s full of fire and life and passion, she drives the cold from within and suffuses him in her warmth. He can’t stand the space between them anymore. He has to talk to her, explain everything and hope she understands.

Darcy lies replete in the cage of his body, he’s still half hard within her, his weight a delicious reality. She holds him close, all too aware that this might be all she gets, lives for the space between heartbeats, willing time to slow.

The jolt as the limo stops and the engine turns off snaps the thin tether to the little bubble they occupied.  He presses a kiss to her forehead before reluctantly pushing away from the inviting warmth of her body, still craving the touch of her skin, wanting nothing more than to keep himself buried in her gentle heat.

She feels the sudden absence of him inside her is like an empty ache, she wants to pull him back to her.  The sudden cool air on her heated skin chills her as reality rudely sets back in.

Darcy pulls the dress back on, her core still feeling the ghost of him inside her, grieving the loss of fullness and completion.  She tries not to shiver as his hand skims up her back, helping her with the zip.

He helps her back into her dress, pulling up the zip and placing a soft kiss to her shoulder, lips brushing over the mark he left earlier, she turns her head and rubs her cheek to his with a silent intimacy that has him closing his eyes for a second to savour the sensation.   

It’s with reluctance that Bucky gets out of the car, makes his way round to open her door.  He holds out a hand and she links their fingers tightly as he helps her out.  He doesn’t let go once she standing before him on the sidewalk. Its still fairly busy, people walking past, the sounds of the city filling their silence.  He can see the apprehension in her eyes as though she’s waiting for him to back out again, to reject her.  Before he can speak she tugs her hand from his and crosses her arms and he’s aware again of some of the paparazzi from before poised not far from them, cameras out.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Darcy blurts it out quickly, she’s almost certain that no matter what the encounter in the limo had felt like that he’s just going to feed her the same line as before.  She has the need to be honest about Scot, the slight feeling of guilt heavy in her gut. He looks so confused, like he can’t connect the dots.

“Scooter, he’s an old friend from high school, we were just catching up, honestly he’d be more interested in you than me.  You just assumed… ”

Bucky scrubs a tired hand over his face, looking away before turning back to her.

“I guess I deserved that.  I’m sorry, you were right before.  I had no call to be jealous even if it had been a date and I was…  jealous. Fucking green, doll.”  

She doesn’t want to hope that the sudden confession means more than it might and her nails dig into her arms to stop from reaching for him. But he looks about as wrecked as she feels and hope creeps in.

“Look, Darcy, we need to talk-”  his phone rings interrupting him and he swears, pulling it out, frustration and irritation clear on his handsome face, before he answers.

The world rushes back in and she bites back the familiar sting of tears…  nothing good ever comes of the phrase we need to talk. He holds up a finger, asking her to wait, to give him a minute before walking a short distance and looking away from her.  

She’s not going to hold it together, can’t stand to listen to him explain once more why they can’t be together.  Not with her insides still tingling and the sticky warmth of his cum coating her thighs. She can’t be here, she needs to go.  Turning on her heel she walks away, stopping at the entrance to the Tower before looking back at him, he’s not watching her, he’s gesturing angrily as he talks to whoever is on the phone.  She looks down the block, then making a swift decision, she walks away from the Tower and responsibility and him. She just needs some space.

He finishes the phone call, looks back and finds her gone.  From the corner of his eye he sees the lobby door swinging slowly shut. She must have gone inside.  He sighs and debates his options. There’s been a sighting of Keene in Jackson Heights, it’s too good a lead to miss, it’s the best they’ve had in weeks and he’s the closest agent.  He didn’t want to leave her like this, wanted the chance to reassure he wasn't about to let her down again, but if he could catch Keene now… if he could do that, he’d have solved most of their problems and be able to tell her it all safely and with the confirmation that Keene was no longer a threat to her or anyone else.  Decision made he walked back to the car and instructed Roth to take them down to the sub-levels to suit up.

tbc...

Tagging: @eurynome827  @omnomsauruswrites  @thesaltyduchess  @spacemansam   @book-dragon-13  @loricameback  @jobean12-blog  @sallycanwait68  @lookwhatyoumademequeue  @letstalkaboutsebbaby  @thatgirlkei  @marvelousmeggi  @grimeysociety  @msruchita  @southerncross47

@libbymouse  @randomlittleimp  @slytherinstarkravingmad  @semkirk  @loverofloki1974   @everything-is-awesomesauce  @noquirkyurl  @sarahbeniel  @atrailofuntoldmemories 

[mac-in-cairo]

prunus  persica

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None Apply

Fandom: MacGyver (2016)

Relationship:  Samantha Cage/Desiree “Desi”  Nguyen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universes - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, First Meetings

Author’s Note: Peach flowers only grow in the north of Vietnam. This is how I imagined their tattoos while writing, but of course, you’re welcome to imagine them differently!

Another Author’s Note: I figure it makes more sense to post MacGyver fanfic here? It’s a little weird for me, though. Yeah, anyway: @rai-knightshade asked for a Sam/Desi soulmate fic and I had an idea. (I linked your post as a prompt on ao3, but I can take it down if you are uncomfortable with that!

And @telltaleclerk this could be something you’d like!

prunus persica

The thing is this: every Phoenix agent needs to get their soulmate mark listed. It sounds worse than it is - after all, society perpetuates that a soulmate mark should remain somewhat personal. But. If you’re a super secret agent working for the government, it would be really inconvenient if you found out your target was your soulmate. (There has been a case, once. It ended horribly.)

So, Sam was not really worried about getting her mark listed. It’s protocol, and it’s for good reason. And after she left, she doesn’t really think about it anymore.

It’s in her file, and sure, she knows those can be compromised, but - she lives in Australia.

It’s not like she hides her mark. The golden flowers show when she wears dresses or tank tops, and it’s okay. To show soulmate marks is not forbidden, just frowned upon by the older generations. Sam couldn’t care less about what they think.

It definitely helps that her mark is especially beautiful - or at least she thinks so. The fragile branch stretches along her collar bone, the delicate flowers in full bloom. She knows those are peach flowers, has known since she was a little kid.

It had excited her - the flower being native to Asia had to be a sign, right? Her excitement had lessened a little over the years, especially after she became an agent. She has been all over the world, but she hasn’t met the person with the same tattoo yet.

That doesn’t mean that her heart doesn’t beat a little faster when she lets her fingers brush across the gold under her skin. Sam knows she’s a romantic at heart - soulmate marks are meant to tell you who’s perfect for you, who fits with you better than anyone else.

She can’t wait to meet them.  

The beach is cool, even though the air is warm on her skin. It’s still dark, but the sky is painted orange already, the sun hiding behind the ocean, playing peek-a-boo with the world.

The ocean’s waves roll onto the beach, and she lets her toes dip into them. There is something beautiful about living near the beach - not even the years made the happiness inside her fade away. The air thrums with life, the soft rustle of leaves, some birds singing a few notes only to be quiet again. Sam breathes in, tastes ocean and beach and home and paradise. Yeah. She can’t wait to show her soulmate this.

The ringtone of her cell phone breaks through the atmosphere, and with a last longing look at the ocean, Sam picks up.

“Cage.”

She’s utterly surprised to hear Matty’s voice through the phone. “I apologize for calling you so early. But we… have a bit of situation.”

It almost sounds like a question, which really puts Sam on edge. “What’s going on?”

Mentally, she’s already packing her suitcase, considering to pack climbing gear and a parachute, just to be safe. Or maybe a second phone?

Unaware of her thoughts, Matty continues talking. “As it turns out, we have found your soulmate.”

Sam’s thoughts screech to a sudden halt. “You… what?”

Her brain feels on fire. They found her soulmate? That means they are an agent, right? Or… a criminal. Oh shit. “Who are they?”

Her voice is barely above a whisper and Matty seems to know where her distress comes from. “She’s our newest agent. Our system just got updated, and her and your soulmarks matched.”

Sam lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Are you in L.A.?” Maybe she can catch the next flight, maybe she can get there today… maybe she can meet her soulmate. Sam’s brain feels a little like it’s fried.

Matty hums. “Yes. You’ll be picked up in 20.” There are no words to describe the relief that floods through Sam. “Thank you, Matty.”

She doesn’t see her smile, but she knows Matty. “You’re welcome, Sam.”

Sam tries to sleep on the plane, but she can’t. Her brain keeps rotating around the - very limited - information she has about her soulmate. Her soulmate is a woman. She is an agent for the Phoenix, so she is someone Matty trusts. She is part of the team, which means she is excellent at her job. Matty didn’t tell her what kind of role her soulmate had, but Sam would bet all her money on protecting the golden boy - Matty told her about Jack leaving, so it’s really not hard to put the pieces together.

Lost in her thoughts, Sam fiddles with the hem of her blouse. She didn’t want to overdress, so she just put on the soft red blouse she loves, with some black dress pants. It feels like too much. What if her soulmate thinks it looks stupid?

She doesn’t feel much better when they land - there is a tight ball in her gut, anxiety and excitement mixing together and Sam thinks she hasn’t been this nervous since her high school prom.

The Phoenix hasn’t been her home for quite a while now, but the familiarity of it all makes her heart ache a little. She finds her way to Matty’s war room easily, slips in through the door like a child sneaking around to find Christmas presents.

Sam does pride herself on the fact that she isn’t easily thrown, but the woman sitting on the couch takes her breath away. The sun fights to break through the clouds and the greyish light spills over the woman’s hair, giving it a silver glint, reminiscent of cold light on the black sea, the waves catching the light.

It is a little overwhelming how much Sam wants to see her in the light of the sunrise, painted orange and red and golden.

The woman rises from her spot, her muscles rolling under her skin and Sam is suddenly thankful for all the years of training because otherwise there would be no way she could avoid staring at the elegant, effortless way the woman’s body shifts, clearly a fighter.

Sam turns fully around, lets the door click into place. The soft sound seems to break the tension between them. With two quick steps, the other woman is in front of Sam, holding out her hand. “I’m Desiree. Desiree Nguyen, but just Desi is fine..”

Sam doesn’t know why, but she has a feeling this is a test. So she smiles, lets her excitement bleed into it a little, just enough to show how she actually feels. “It’s nice to meet you, Desiree.” The name tastes like honey on her lips, and Sam hopes she gets a lifetime of opportunities to say her name again. “I’m Sam Cage.”

Desiree’s eyes are dark, and Sam figures that she could easily pull off the Bambi look with them, but there is a rough edge to the woman in front of her, a hint of both danger and sweetness. Sam really, really hopes she’ll get to see both sides.

Desiree watches her, a hesitant smile curling up her mouth. “It’s nice to meet you too, Sam.” She lets her hand linger way longer than necessary, their warm palms resting against each other. It’s nice, Sam thinks. Intimate in a weird way, but maybe that was what happened when you met your soulmate for the first time.

Sam hesitantly lets her hands go, but that leaves her with nothing to do. She tries to distract herself by rubbing over her neck - a tell she usually wouldn’t give away, but this is her soulmate, the woman she is supposed to love more than anyone else. A little trust isn’t too bad.

She watches Desiree’s eyes flicker down the line of her throat, the sharp eyes taking in every detail. Then her eyes freeze, a strange look coming over her. Sam almost asks if something is wrong, but she doesn’t know how to do that without sounding too creepy.

So she just watches.

“Hoa dao”, the woman whispers, and there is a softness to her voice that makes Sam’s heart melt. She lets her reach out, but Desiree hesitates before her fingers brush over the golden flowers peeking out under her collar. Sam can feel the heat of her fingertips just barely touching her, and she smiles softly. She is aware that the other woman is watching her, sharp eyes taking in Sam’s reaction.

Then her eyes flicker down to the gold again, and her skin brushes over Sam’s. Her fingertips flutter over the branch and the flowers, tracing the visible part of the mark.

Sam wants to kiss her, but the moment between them feels too fragile, too precious - so she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches out, slides her fingers along Desiree’s other arm, following the bones in her forearm down to her wrist, asking silently.

Desiree’s eyes meet hers again, and she lets Sam curl her fingers between hers. It’s nice - warm palms sliding together, fingers tangling, simply holding.

Sam is holding her soulmate’s hand for the first time. She feels a brilliant smile stretch across her face, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop. This is her soulmate. Her soulmate is an agent who is a trusted friend to one of the best men Sam has ever known. She’s strong, she’s beautiful, and Sam doesn’t know her yet, but she’s holding her hand and Desiree isn’t quite smiling, but her eyes are bright and lovely. Her hands are warm and she seems to be unable to stop looking at Sam - not that Sam is doing any better.

“Hi”, Sam says, and she doesn’t care it sounds stupid.

Desiree huffs a laugh, the sound small but honest. “Hi yourself.”

also on ao3!

[amongthebriars]

Sound of Silence || Harddox & Kit

In which this proceeds Collisions of Diplomacy and we get, in various turns, Harland experiencing the many aspects of what it means to watch over Kit Scarlet and her guard during recovery. Sometimes, there are worse things to do. Other times, perhaps these are the worse things. 

TW: Old Men Feelings, Smut Mentioned, Violence, Blood Mention, Manipulation, Internalized Victim Blaming, Alcoholism, Death Thoughts (this is a wild ride guys)

@the-kit-scarlet

MADDOX:

Ever since the King had arrived, the Briar estate seemed to be holding its breath. Initial courtesies were exchanged briefly before the King demanded to see his beloved. Of course, Maddox was expected to accompany them. Their reunion- had a spectator been present- would have looked like they were the happiest couple in the world. Maddox knew better. He saw the way Kit flinched, attempting to hide the pain that his touches caused her blistering skin. Earlier this morning, Kit could barely sit upright to eat. Now, she was jumping into Oberon’s arms as if she was completely healed.

For his loyalty, he was rewarded with a smarting jaw that he was still rubbing when he exited the room, Duke Briar standing outside the door, looking as if he had been struck himself. Maddox did not say anything, just leaned his head back against the door. The other guards had been instructed to scatter and to cover the perimeter. The nearest guard was a good five meters away.

Maddox sighed, knuckles blanching as he curled his hands into fists.

HARLAND:

The Duke should have expected something like silence to fall over the estate the moment Oberon set foot on it again. There was always something eerie about such things, especially when the place was usually filled with a lightness that was indiscernible now. Even before Kit had come here, Harland strove to wipe away the memories that damned his life. He had tried to make it a home and, now, Oberon had turned it rotten.

He had been present when the king entered Kit's chambers, acting as though he owned the place, and it made the Duke's blood boil. He had been there that morning, as well, when the blonde had scarcely been able to eat for her blistering skin, yet now she threw herself at the pale bastard like he was her lifeline.

The sight turned his stomach.

After exchanging his cordalities, Harland had left the room to handle the guard. When he'd returned, leaning against the wall, Maddox was just exiting the room. The guard was rubbing at his jaw and Harland could see the faint outline of a dark welt already forming.

The Sidhe turned to fully face the man then, anger in his gaze, and moved the hand out of the way. Maddox was leaned up against the door and the nearest guard was down the hall. Harland had enough time to curse under his breath and examine the bruising, standing straight as he contemplated barging into the room and dragging the rat out by his hair.

The noises he could hear behind the door stopped him and he curled his lip in disgust, unaware that his hand still held the guard's face in his palm.

MADDOX:

Maddox sighed. “Do I disgust you so, Harland?” Maddox asked quietly but withdrew his face regardless of what Briar said. He turned his head away so that only his uninjured side was facing the Duke.

“You will make it worse for my mistress and I if you do what you are thinking,” Maddox said quietly, “you do know that, right? I know you want to protect us. But there are threats that no one on the outside could reduce. You are new to this world, Your Grace. We need to tread lightly.”

It was impossible to pretend what was happening in there was not happening. If the guards had been farther, if it had just been Harland and him, Maddox might have let the tears he was fighting fall. Had he been as naive as Kit? To think that the King might have been content with just visiting the woman he kept calling beloved?

He was as foolish as she was. They had been in this game long enough to know better. He began to roll his neck, fidgeting.

HARLAND:

The blond stood in silence for a moment longer, eyes boring into the door. His gaze only moved when he registered the guard's words, shock, surprise, and some profound sadness he refused to name leaking into his gaze. Maddox moved until Harland's hand fell from his face, his uninjured side presented like he was expecting the Duke to strike him, too.

"Maddox," he said, voice quiet so it did not carry but loud enough that it caught the man's attention. "No. I don't. I-" Harland stopped himself, swallowing down the words he'd been so ready to say. Handsome. Charming. Brave. But, no, not ugly. Never. Not even when he had sneered at the thought of his being an Unseelie and, even then, Harland knew he would burn himself on him if he could. He didn't trust himself to speak now, did not know if the words would slip out. He listened, instead, and knew what Maddox was saying was true.

Finally, after a long moment, the Sidhe lay a careful hand along the back of Maddox's neck, gave a small squeeze, a brush of fingertips through hair, and then dropped his hand and moved away. "I know," he said, and the admission was bitter on his tongue. It was what he did, protect. Offer himself as a shield. Be the one that took the brunt of things.

It was all he had been good for, once.

"We will. It is a promise."

MADDOX:

He heard the other man’s words but did not react. There was too much ugliness now. Too many eyes watching. He knew better than to look the part of anything but a disgruntled bodyguard, forced to break bread with a Seelie Duke for the sake of his mistress.

Still, he could not stop the chills that crawled down his spine as Harland touched him ever so lightly.

“Definitely foolish, if I had to choose now, Your Grace,” Maddox replied, referencing a much earlier conversation. From before they had begun their descent into insanity. “They have already begun to whisper. Would you mar a princess’ reputation so simply because you cannot keep your hands to yourself until later?”

There was a ghost of a smile at his lips.

HARLAND:

Despite the non-reaction, Harland felt a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, a tad smug. He'd felt the shiver that had run down Maddox's spine like it was a living thing. Instead of doing what he wanted, however, which was run a finger down the back of his spine until Maddox did it again, Harland leaned against the wall beside him, shoulders brushing. Other than the close quarters, which could easily be explained away by the size of the hall, neither man looked to be doing anything except conversing.

In fact, Harland probably looked like he'd just pissed the other faerie off.

"And what does that make you, hm?" The Duke followed the guard that walked by with his eyes, noting that he didn't look anywhere near Kit's chambers. Good, that was just as well. Canting his head to the side, Harland gave a quiet snort. "Not unwillingly, no, but a whisper is a small thing, easily ignored. Perhaps not here but, there are ways around them."

Just to prove his point, Harland flicked out one of his hands when he readjusted his stance, dragging his nails down the exposed forearm at his side, a barely concealed smirk lighting up his eyes for a moment before it was swallowed up by the ever-present mask of the diplomat, arms folded across his chest as a show of good faith.

Ignoring the sounds through the door was proving to be difficult, however, and he itched for a bottle to block out the sounds. Or, at the very least, something else to focus on.

"How do you stand it, truly, Maddox? I...it is one thing, to be her guard, to care for her even, but to...listen to this and do nothing…"

MADDOX:

He groaned softly. “You are a royal pain in my ass, Your Grace- and no, do not say anything of the sort or I swear I will knock your pretty teeth right out of your mouth,” Maddox growled. “Which would be a shame. Please do not force my hand.”

He was looking anyway but the Duke and anyway but behind him. He watched carefully, ensuring no one circled too close.

“Tell me, what would you have me do? Shall I burst down the door so my King can decide to take my eye? Or should I try to prevent him from coupling with a woman who jumps into his arms no matter how bad she’s hurting?” Maddox hissed with venom in his voice.  Maddox balled his hands into fists, wishing so badly he could hit something.

“Did you know I am the oldest in the King’s employ, Your Grace? His employ is not exactly known for its absence of hazards.”

HARLAND:

The Duke snickered quietly under his breath, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the groan, the words Maddox was saying. It was about as threatening as a pup was on its first day or training. That was to say, it wasn't at all.

"You'd miss them too much, I'm sure," he returned, voice formal even with the topic. The guards who moved around the perimeter would think nothing of the sound, certainly not of the look on his or the guard's, not with what they knew was occurring beyond the door they guarded.

The Duke winced at the tone but understood that it was not directed at him, this ire, the frustration. No, Maddox cared for the woman he protected, perhaps more than he should, given who her lover was, but it was not something that bothered Harland. It did, however, explain away his irritation. Maddox had, unknowingly, answered the insinuation without a direct word on it.

Harland figured he would probably like to keep it that way, if the assumption was true. There were few more dangerous things than loving Kit Scarlet.

"Live," he whispered, surprising even himself. He cleared his throat, then, and ducked his head, fingers toying with a cuff as he heaved a sigh. "Live, Maddox. It's all I ask and, I'm certain, all Kit would want. You do no one any good buried in an unmarked grave. Which is why I'll do nothing, not here, and certainly not now. I just-"

Harland stopped himself, a frustrated whine escaping his throat before he could stop it, and he pressed a hand to his eyes, as though he had a throbbing behind them.

"I don't like...the pain. Hearing it. Seeing it. Call me a fool all you'd like but it's more than just a bruise, or a breaching of lord's laws, it's a deliberate attempt to undermine what's-" his. He drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, laying his head back against the wall.

How had he fallen so far in so little time?

What had he done, to prompt such a thing, to even warrant it? Harland Briar was not a good man, nor did he deserve anything like kindness. And this?

He hardly believes he deserved any of it at all.

MADDOX:

Maddox turned on his heel quickly, violently, and shoved the Duke against the door. A forearm was pressed against the Duke’s chest and to Maddox’s infinite anger, he had to look up slightly to meet the Duke’s gaze. A guard passing by drew near, but Maddox did not turn his gaze away.

“Consider it revenge for Ser Gregor, Mik. Walk along,” Maddox said, his voice gruff. It was a testament to how brazen Aven’s guards were that he did indeed walk along as an Unseelie guard had a Seelie Duke pinned against a wall in his own home.

“Do not speak to me of what Kit wants. She’s a woman courting disaster at every turn. She ran from the arms of a mad dog into the arms of a mad fucking king,” Maddox’s voice was barely audible and he was trembling with a fury he had not realized he had possessed.

“For one hundred and six years, I have been trying to do exactly that. And in a few days, your court has undone it all. You think you can save us, Your Grace? My death warrant was signed the moment Balthazar fucking Black raised his hand against Kit and I could not protect her. Maybe the King will keep me alive until I have outlived my use, but from that moment forward I have been a dead man walking. You cannot shield me from this. Just as I cannot shield her from him.”

Maddox groaned, withdrawing sharply as he shoved the fae further away from him. His hands went to rake across his scalp. “The pain comes with the territory, Harland. It is only a temporary living arrangement. We will go back to Roheim. You can pretend whatever you like once we have gone. But I beg of you, do not pretend there is a way to protect us once we leave this estate. I am far too old to be filled with such ideas. And she is far too injured.” The moans from the room grew into a crescendo and Maddox thought he might burst.

“I can live with bruises. I can live with all the rest.” But I cannot dare to hope for something more than this, surely you know that. I can only hope what the Nighthawks have learned was useful and that I can bear the brunt of Kit’s pain. It is too dangerous to dare for anything else.

What he would give to be alone with the Duke, away from prying eyes.

HARLAND:

Somehow, he was hardly surprised anymore that this is where he'd land. It had been his lot in life since he'd met Balthazar Black, perhaps even before. He bore it well, all things considered.

The breath rushed from his lungs as Maddox slammed him into the wall, a forearm pressing into his chest, back against the wall. His fingers twitched, an immediate reaction to a threat, but the Duke didn't do what they wanted, this time. The guard was not going to hurt him as angry as he was, as pained.

Harland deserved this, if anything. It had been a long time coming.

Another guard attempted to come closer and Maddox sent them off as easily as one would swatting at a fly. If they were anywhere else Harland would have been impressed. But, now, he was just filled with regret, with sorrow. He knew, in some way, that the other faerie was right. And, yet, Harland wished he wasn't, even still.

The Duke sucked in a breath, eyes never leaving Maddox's face, and his hands were careful where they fell, fingers curling into the bottom of his tunic, just at the edge of the leathers, and the other around his collar. To anyone looking, Maddox would have looked to be caught just as Harland was.

When Maddox pulled away, Harland stayed, caught against the wall like an animal in a trap. Watching Maddox felt like being stabbed; hearing the moans of pain and pleasure behind the door only made it worse. Raking his eyes over the man told the Sidhe all he needed to know. Surging forward off the wall, Harland caught him by an arm. The guard nearby watched and the Duke affected a sneer, anger there that he did not feel as he growled something. His eyes, they would tell you the difference. It did not reach the eyes.

And his words held nothing he meant.

Harland's pace was quick, maneuvering them a hall away. They could still hear what came from the room. However, they were far enough away that it could be drowned out by the closing of a door. It was what they needed against their frayed edges, now, a balm for the pain and the anger. The Duke leaned against the door for a moment, breathing before he let his mask fall.

Moving forward, hesitant, careful, he took Maddox's face into his hands, tilted it to make him look. He studied the man's face, held his gaze, a thumb rubbing along the scar at the side of his jaw. "Your death warrant was signed the moment you became her guard, Maddox, but that doesn't mean I can't try. Kit would want you to stay as safe as you can. You know that. Regardless of who she's run to, you've been there. For everything. You know I'm right."

He let out a slow breath, a stutter more than anything. Breathed in, let it out. He did this again and again, a pace for Maddox to set his own to until he'd calmed himself. Until it calmed Harland, too.

"My court may be to blame, but I am trying to rectify that mistake, for more than just that reason. You might be able to live with her pain, but can she live with yours?" A finger traced the bruise along the edge of Maddox's jaw and Harland sickened at the thought that crossed his mind. "We'll glamour it to look worse. But you're putting something on it. It would be small, nothing to be noticed. They think I'm angry. So let them believe it." He smiled slightly, a boyish grin for such a grim situation, "at the very least it won't ruin your reputation."

MADDOX:

Maddox held his breath as the other fae rubbed his jaw. He was far too angry to be feeling any of the things he felt right now. But still, the feelings persisted. In another room, his King was making love to a woman whose skin was barely able to tolerate any movement without nearly blacking out from the pain. In here, he felt as if he was being torn asunder. He had no business feeling anything but hate for a Seelie Duke. But still, the feelings persisted.

It was far too dangerous to kiss a Seelie Duke when King Aven was in another room. But still, Maddox crashed his lips against Harland’s with a ferocity that he could not entirely control. He pulled Harland into him, slamming his back against the door. Maddox’s hands were far too eager, tugging at hems and slipping under tunics. It was gluttonous the way his hands were devouring every part of Harland they could touch.

He pulled his lips away from Harland with a slight groan, nuzzling his face into the crook of the fae’s shoulder. His teeth were grazing against the hard flesh there and he let his tongue dart between his lips. Harland was salty on his tongue and Maddox thought he would never get enough. He began to work his way up his neck, alternating kisses and barely there bites near his earlobe.

“Do whatever you want then,” Maddox said, his voice hoarse, “just stop talking. Please.” His voice was breaking and he hated himself for it. He placed a hand on Harland’s jaw, tugging him until their lips met again.

He could not help the tears that stung at his eyes and responded by kissing Harland harder as if he could drown out all his pain and sorrow by burying himself into him.

HARLAND:

As Harland watched the guard's face, he saw something there that he thought that, perhaps, he was not meant to. Or, perhaps, he was being allowed to. There was an anger in Maddox's face, something so deeply penetrating that it could swallow someone whole if they allowed it. But, alongside it, there was sadness, frustration, indecision. All of it swirled in the dark depths of the Unseelie's eyes before Harland found himself consumed by the violence of him.

Maddox surged forward as he tugged the Duke in, mouth crashing into his with a ferocity the blond had not yet witnessed. His back hit the door and he thanked the Celestials that the wood was thick, that the hinges were good, and that they made little noise. The force behind the action had the Duke gasping out a breath, the air stolen by Maddox's mouth as he devoured.

Harland's skin prickled at the feeling of hands on him, skimming and clawing at skin like he was a drowning man, rucking up Harland's tunic and sliding beneath. The groan that escaped the Duke's mouth was deep, guttural. He pressed himself closer, then, a hand curling first at the base of Maddox's neck and then dipping lower, skimming fingertips just beneath the collar of his shirt. He responded to the mouth attached to his, flicking out his tongue to lick at the seam of the other faerie's lips, seeking an access that only Maddox could give.

When Maddox pulled away, face nuzzling into the skin at Harland's neck and shoulder, the Duke's head fell back against the door, hips angling to press into the other man's with another, low groan. He dropped the hand that had remained at the guard's jaw and found his hip instead, tugging him as close as their positions would allow. After a moment to breath, Harland pushed forward, teeth catching at the underside of Maddox's jaw. He dropped small, light kisses to the skin, traveled down the shoulder as the angle allowed, teeth hooking into the muscle on one particularly hard kiss.

When they were seperated once more, Harland's chest rose and fell quickly. The utterly wrecked sound Maddox made as he spoke, the way his voice broke, felt like something sharp had pierced his chest. He could only nod as the guard tugged at his jaw, could only follow as Maddox began to kiss him again. The wetness on Maddox's cheeks startled him but the hand that Harland had reached up to tangle into the short depths of Maddox's hair wiped them away.

The Duke broke the bruising kiss after a moment, angling his lips up the side of Maddox's jaw, across his scar, resting just below his ear. Head bowed, Harland licked his lips. "What do you need, Maddox?"

MADDOX:

He wanted to melt into his touch as he felt Harland wipe tears away that he was too proud to admit were his own. Every fiber of his being seemed to be coming alive, twitching and vibrating with an energy and a life of its own. He could not quite catch his breath and he was positive that at any given moment his heart would beat out of his chest.

He could barely hear what the Duke was saying over the pounding of blood in his ears. He only knew that for all he said he needed Harland to shut up; he would have happily listened to Harland speak forever any other time. But they were running on borrowed time and there was still more of Harland he wanted to commit to memory.

“I was hoping you would know,” Maddox replied, his lips first pressing against Harland’s temple before meeting Harland’s lips. His hands were trembling now- anxiety or desire?- as they slid down the man’s torso. His thumbs rubbed near his hips, asking for an invitation to keep going.

HARLAND:

The hand Harland had curled around Maddox's hip tightened minutely, tugged at him to move him, to get him standing between Harland's thighs. There was a moment where the Duke shut his eyes, the feeling of lips at his temple almost overwhelming. The action was so soft that he wanted to tuck it away, keep it close and never let it go. A small, pained sound fell past his lips, swallowed by the mouth on his again.

Harland nodded, nose knocking into the guard's as he broke the kiss, tilting to rest his forehead against the other faerie's for a moment. A slight smile crossed his face before it was gone. The Duke knew they were operating on not enough time. There was so much he wanted to know, to memorize, but he would content himself for this, whatever this was, for now.

The hands that skimmed down his chest and torso, that landed at his hips, waiting, made Harland suck in a breath through his nose. Angling his head, one hand coming up to grasp at Maddox's chin, Harland kissed him thoroughly, pressing his hips into his hands. The hand at his hip skimmed its fingertips just across the front of him, tugging at the laces on the front of his trousers and pressing into the bulge beneath his hand, a question and an answer in one.

MADDOX:

Even if they had forever, would it be enough? Maddox did not hesitate to grant himself further access. For all they were rushing and crashing into each, Maddox took his time undoing the laces. It was far too dangerous and they were both far too cautious to be unnecessarily reckless and rip items that could not be quickly repaired or explained away.

His hand traveled lower, taking time to caress every inch. It was almost enough to feel Harland shiver against him and to feel rather than hear the groan muffled against his own shoulder. Almost.

This would have been better on a bed. In a room with a bolted door, where he would have had all the space he needed to explore him. To watch his reactions to his touch, rather than have to bite them back.

His thumb traced the length of Harland’s cock slowly, with his other hand running up Harland’s back and curving him so his head rested in the crook of his neck. He might not be able to see as much as he wanted, but he would not miss a single sound that came from his lips.  

HARLAND:

Harland's hand was careful as it untied the laces at the front of Maddox's breeches, slipping a hand beneath the skin-warmed fabric, palming the guard's cock with sure fingers. Despite the urgency in their motives, the Duke took his time dragging his nails down the length of the faerie in his hands, just as he shuddered at the hand against his own flesh. He pressed closer, canting his hips in with a whine, unable to suppress the sound.

The groan that escaped him when a thumb brushed over the length of him came from deep within his chest, barely muffled in the crook of Maddox's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the skin there as he moved his own hand, exploring as much as he was enjoying touching, wishing he could touch more. Could touch everything.

Circling his hand round the head of Maddox's cock, swiping a thumb through the precum at the tip, Harland began to move his hand in a slow pace. What he wouldn't give for a bed, for time to look and explore and learn. What he would not give for the chance to truly hear the man. Harland contented himself with the way they were; the angle allowed him to nose the fabric away from the guard's shoulder, to alternate kisses and light bites to the skin as he began to pump the shaft in his hand.

His free hand found its way to the base of Maddox's spine, skimming beneath his tunic and anchoring himself in the muscles there. It would leave a mark, but it would be hidden. He would have to content himself with that.

MADDOX:

If he did not take Harland to bed, he might just kill him for the way he felt he was losing himself underneath the other’s touch. He was not one that lost control easily. Yet here was, whimpering against Harland. He wanted so badly to focus on giving more pleasure than he was receiving.

But with each stroke of Harland’s hand, Maddox found himself involuntarily pausing and inhaling sharply. It was far too distracting. Next time, he would need to find a way to keep Harland’s hands out of the way so he could take his time. Next time, there would be no interruptions.

But too soon, Maddox realized that the rest of the estate had fallen silent. He cursed against Harland’s neck, stealing one last kiss before withdrawing himself. He began to straighten his trousers and once done, leaned back in to steal another.

“Whatever magic or tricks you planned, best make it quick,” Maddox said. He grabbed his sword then, keeping a wide berth between Harland and himself. He flashed an apologetic smile, before striking his ribs with a force that nearly caused his knees to buckle.

“Best make sure they believe you are angry,” Maddox hissed through a grimace as he placed his sword back in its scabbard.

HARLAND:

The quiet whimpers that escaped the faerie in his hands egged Harland on. If anything else, he wanted to hear him. It did not matter that the hand on him had stilled now, even as Harland pressed his hips into Maddox's hands. He didn't care. No, he was entirely focused on the noises he was wringing from the guard, wondered what he would sound like if they were entirely alone if they could be as loud as they wanted.

It was not the first time he had cursed the king, but he certainly did that when Maddox cursed and pulled away. Harland stilled his hand, listening to his own breathing. He realized then that he could hear no other sound. Not even the guards were stirring. The Duke cursed again and the sound was swallowed by Maddox's mouth as he leaned in, stealing another kiss. Harland pressed forward, deepened it for a moment, before sighing and drawing away.

He watched, irritation flashing across his face at their predicament, at the damnable conditions of it all, as Maddox fixed himself and replaced his trousers before leaning back into the blond and stealing another kiss. Harland wanted to linger here, for just another moment, but sighed instead, nodding his head as he, too, fixed himself in his trousers.

Eyes widening when he realized what Maddox was about to do, Harland flicked out a hand. A strand of magic, far too faint to be detected, hit the guard's jaw just as he slammed the hilt of his sword into his ribs. The sound reverberated in the silence that had fallen across the manor. There was no mistaking it, and Harland's jaw tightened, gaze pained as he stared at the area he knew would now bruise an ugly shade by the end of the night. That, compounded with the glamoured bruising on his face, would be enough.

It would need to be.

Glancing at the door as he stepped away, Harland squared his shoulders before tugging the guard close, careful as his hands curled around his face. Tongue licking into the seam of his mouth, Harland deepened the kiss for a moment, a promise as good as any he could give here in the quiet, before pulling away.

When he strode through the door a moment later, stalking angrily back through the manor to that damnable door, the guards that encountered him kept well out of his way.

MADDOX:

He didn’t like magic. Maddox felt like he did not say that enough. The smell of it always irritated him and made him anxious. But when Harland made a tiny movement and he caught the scent of glamour only for a second, Maddox thought it might not be the worst thing.

He followed Harland out after a  moment, clutching at his rib and muttering to himself. He nearly ran into Mik. Mik smirked. “Not his whore, then? Just a punching bag? Some revenge for Ser Gregor.” Maddox chuckled once, more of a warning than a sound of amusement,  before slamming into Mik and mowing the man over until he had him pinned against a wall.

“Ser Gregor was a right cunt, you know that. But I will make his death look clean if you do not learn to hold your tongue. But you have my blessing, see if you can succeed where I failed. I will take great pleasure in picking up your pieces.”

The King reentered the hall, the door swinging shut behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of Kit. He was smiling in a way that made Maddox positively homicidal.

“Maziac, give my lady a moment before you go to attend her. She is exhausted and will need assistance cleaning up.” Maddox merely nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. “Duke Briar, we continue to be grateful for your hospitality. We will not keep you a moment longer. We look forward to our continued correspondence.”

The King motioned to one of the passing guards, who was immediately at his side and began to escort the King out. Maddox kept a hand on his hilt, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

HARLAND:

The Duke glanced up for a moment when Maddox came back into the hall before forcing his eyes away. Oberon came through the door and Harland's eyes looked past him, too, for a second. He barely caught a glimpse of Kit, huddled in the floor on her knees. The hands he had folded at the small of his back tightened around one another, shoulders barely tighter than before. No one would notice but the Duke was brimming with fury.

He could only imagine at what had been done to the woman and, frankly, he did not want to know. But she was in his home, he was caring for her, and he would do everything within his power to get her well.

Even if it meant swallowing down the bile in his throat every time he had to speak to the rat.

Harland did not accompany the King out. He knew the way. No, Harland wanted to see what had been done. What damage had he caused? Sparing a glance at Maddox, the Duke lay a hand on his shoulder, briefly, for there was no one around. He squeezed and then let go, striding through the door that the King had just left, the guard quickly following at his side.

MADDOX/KIT:

“Harland,” Maddox hissed, the warning clear. But Harland paid him no mind. Cursing, Maddox followed him into the room.

TW: manipulation, internalized victim blaming

Kit was staring at her feet, feeling herself flush a dark red. Fear not, kitten. Your shadow can clean you up. It was not a kindness Oberon had extended to her, but an order. She hated these moments where Oberon decided to flaunt how deeply intertwined they are. She knew Oberon was possessive by nature and most days, it did not trouble her. But these were the moments that it troubled her so greatly she could hardly breathe. How many times did Maddox have to prove himself worthy to remain by her side?

She had been so happy to see him first. She had felt like she was whole again. But now-

You cannot afford to follow those thoughts, Kit, she chided herself.

Maddox cleared his throat loudly, far too loudly. Kit looked up at him, startled. When her eyes flitted over to Duke Briar, she felt her neck and chest began to flush. She cast her eyes down, folding her hands in her lap.

Maddox closed the distance between them, kneeling in front of her. Kit felt as if the semen Oberon had left on her chin- why could he not just let her clean herself up honestly why did anyone have to know what happened in their private world- was burning a hole into her.

“Maddox, I am so sorry. His Royal Highness is frustrated by-” Kit began, her voice sounding like she might break into sobs.

“I cannot accept your apologies, my lady. They are not required.” Maddox’s voice was stiff, foreign as he used a kerchief to wipe her chin.

“Maddox,” Kit began again.

“Is that all my lady requires?”  Her shadow was made of stone, it appeared. Kit felt herself begin to tremble. It was all too much. She was exhausted and aching and humiliated. She wanted Oberon to take her back to Roheim. Everything was all wrong here.

When Kit could not reply, Maddox merely nodded and left the room. She flinched as the door slammed shut. She stood up on unsteady feet, using the table to assist her. Her dress and robe were a mess but she pulled them tightly around her all the same, tying her waist with a sash so tight she could hardly breathe. She could not bear to look the Duke in the eye. She steeled herself, bracing herself for the insults that were sure to come.

HARLAND:

The Duke kept himself back from the pair, merely studying the situation. He cared not for the color of her shame, the way her chest and face flushed a bright red at it. He cared more for the anger that seemed to consume her guard, the stiffness he had never seen there clearly distancing himself from the situation. It was a coping mechanism he had seen before, had used himself.

At the moment the door slammed shut, Harland wished there were two of him to comfort. He knew it would do no good now but...later, perhaps. But, now, his focus was entirely on the woman that struggled to her feet, pain evident in her movements. Harland's jaw tightened again and he had to loosen the grip he had on his hands; if he had not, the fractures would have screamed.

Walking around the woman as she hugged herself, Harland rummaged through a spare closet. Some of the more simple dresses of his daughter's, ones she never wore, and jackets that were unornamented hung there. From the depths he pulled a worn brown jacket and walked it back over, gesturing with it for her to take.

A small smile graced his lips, a sign for her to know that all was well. He settled down close by but have her her space. A hand ran through his hair and the Duke slumped, tired and strung to his farthest for the evening. Still, he would try.

"What is your favorite flower, my lady? I've something to cheer you up, I believe." Softer, then, he said, "Maddox will be back, Kit. He has had a...difficult evening. It is not you that troubles him."

KIT:

She accepted the jacket with a smile, tugging it over her shoulders with a wince. “Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind,” Kit said, stumbling over the courtesies clumsily. She tried to use High Fae with the Duke, but she was far too exhausted to try to make sense of the words and their meanings and their absurd sounds. She slipped back into the common tongue almost involuntarily.

“I am not very familiar with flowers, Your Grace. Only the belladonna, I fear.”

Kit looked past the Duke, staring at the door as if she could force it to open and return her shadow to her.

“He has a difficult master. It makes for difficult evenings.” At her words, Kit clapped a hand over her mouth. Stupid, careless girl.

“Forgive me, your Grace...The draughts have- I- I meant nothing by it.”

HARLAND:

Harland accepted her graciousness with a bow of his head, hiding a smile when she slipped in and out of High Fae and, finally, into the Common. "There are no thanks needed, but you are welcome, all the same. We can give you a dress, as well, when you've your strength. Cressida can help you into it if need be." Now that the King had gone, the staff was free to roam their home once more. They were told to give the guards a wide berth, save for Maddox and Kit themselves, and they had.

There was no need for an altercation, and certainly not one that would result in violence. Harland was attempting to minimize that as much as possible these days.

"That is no matter. I am well versed in them." He gave her a crooked smile, then. Though it was tired, it still attempted to lift the mood. Settling with his feet more securely to the floor, the Duke's eyes fell until they were half-closed, almost lazy looking. If he had been anywhere else, with anyone else, he would have appeared to nod off. But, his fingers were twitching, a thread of magic tangible in the air.

From behind her, the tendril of a plant snuck into the middle of the room. Harland manipulated it upright, the bud shimmering in a false-breeze as it unfurled. Though this was not the bloom that belonged, Harland was capable enough where it followed his instructions. The flower was delicate, its petals nearly translucent, seeming to glow in the moonlight that leaked into the room. It sat, stigma and pistils bared to the air, and waited.

"We call it the Queen of the Night, my lady," Harland murmured, a bit more tired now that he had brought something from nothingness. "She fits, I think. And she is yours until the time you leave here. She will not wither though you may pluck her."

Her words reached his ears and Harland stopped, studying her, before nodding his head. "You need not blame the draughts, Kit. It is alright. I'll not speak anything of it. You have my word."

KIT:

Kit watched the Duke in awe, enraptured. Magic was an unfamiliar creature. She knew little of how it worked and had never attempted to develop the skill. She was- had- been renowned for her beauty without the aid of glamour. It had driven her rivals insane.

It was a strange thing to behold, such a large man bringing forth such delicate illusions. But when she reached her hand out, she found it was no such illusion. She could not help but gasp and reached a delicate finger to it. She stroked the petals as gently as a lover.

“She is lovely, Your Grace. I will cherish her.” Kit murmured.

She met the Duke’s eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them like electricity. The nod of her head was so slight it was almost imperceptible but she knew he saw it. She knew he understood.

“Will you bring my shadow joy which such flowers? Or do you have other methods?” Kit asked, testing the waters. They were already more familiar than they had any right to be. The Duke, by all means, should have wanted her dead. He should have been a cruel host. But his tenderness was seemingly infinite. And she knew her shadow like she knew her own soul. Something had changed. There was so much she had missed when she was sedated and burning. She continued before Harland could respond, softly, “I am sure my shadow is grateful for your companionship. He lives a lonely life.” It was all she dared to say, preferring to keep whatever was transpiring unspoken. It was all she could do to show that she, too, would give her word and keep it.

HARLAND:

The gentle gasp that came from the blonde in front of him made Harland's smile grow. It was reasons like those that the Duke did such tricks. If he could bring joy, rather than pain, he would much rather use his magic that way. He had used it for violence, for death and destruction at the hands of a queen, for far too long.

He gave Kit a smile and nodded his head, but did not say what he wanted. The flower was Kit, was it not? He would not tell her that the flower usually died before dawn, that it was a rarity to see. The smile he had put on her face, to make her forget her shame, was enough.  The slight nod she gave him at his words was as much of an understanding as they would exchange. There were no words that could describe such things, certainly not in a time like this one.

The Duke was, however, surprised by her next words. Entirely awake now, Harland sat himself up straighter against the back of his chair, assessing the woman before him. He did not know how to find the words, nor if he even could. There was far too much at stake here.

"If they think I am cruel," he murmured, sighing through his nose, and slumping his shoulders a bit. Still, he watched her face. Wanted her to understand the things he could not say. "It is easier. It protects you both behind closed doors. If anything, it affords you something like peace." He looked down, then, eyes sharp on the floor, at where her legs dangled and her feet did not touch. The corner of his mouth turned up, ever so slight, when he conceded: "Though I think your shadow would like a dagger more, flowers are not...unreasonable."

Kit did not know, yet, what he had done. Perhaps he should leave it that way? Or...perhaps not. Rolling up his sleeve, Harland bared the arm that wore a bandage still, tapping a forefinger against it. "He is his own, my lady, but while you are here...I will do what I can. I've taken the lord's rights, and I intend to follow them." He looked up at her, then, hoping she knew what it was he was saying, what he could not say. What had transpired so suddenly was not something Harland knew, not something he was familiar with.

But he was willing to learn.

KIT:

She continued stroking the petals, finding a comfort in its delicate touch. It was made for her. It bloomed for her. It was a wondrous thing and she could not bring herself to tear her eyes from it longer than necessary. Perhaps it was better she was not gazing directly into the Duke’s eyes. Neither of them might have been comfortable with such emotion being on such display.

“I imagine it is no easy task to convince anyone that you are capable of cruelty, Your Grace,” Kit said carefully. The words were slower than necessary. She was treading carefully, not wanting to disturb the peace that the Briar estate provided. “Stern, maybe. You must despise the Unseelie very much- and it must be well known-  if your cruelty is believable.” It was a compliment, yes, but there was something sad in her tone. He seemed to be a good man, but even those who seemed good could hate entire people indiscriminately.

At his talk of a dagger, Kit fought very valiantly but ultimately failed to keep a smile from forming on her lips. She kept her eyes on the flower, but could not help but sneak glances at the Duke. It was an exercise in self control to refrain from giggling. “A dagger? What an intimate gift, Your Grace. I am sure he would be appreciative.”

But at the Duke’s next words, her expression became impassive. Her blistered skin remained taut with her lips pressed tightly together.

“One of yours? Or of my beloved’s that necessitated such violence?”

HARLAND:

He watched her as she stroked the petals of the bloom, noticed the way she was entranced by them. In a way, he was glad to know he had not lost the ability. The war had taken so much, but he would not let them have this. Never this, not wholly. They could weaponize him, but they could not make him fire, not now.

Her words were careful and he gave her a small, sad smile. He could hear the sadness, the fact that she well knew of his dislike for her people. Well, he thought, many of them. "Cruelty is a learned behavior, my lady. It...can be emulated. When one has lost his way...the sensations are harder to reimagine, once you have pieced yourself together again but...it is not entirely unthought of. Such is the game we play. Such is the necessity. I do not despise the unwilling. I despise the war and what it made us become. Each man is a monster, they just wear a different face, my lady. We all saw the same violence. The heroes merely changed cloaks."

The words were ones he had known for a long while. He did not hate the Unseelie, not those who had merely followed their families. And, he knew, there had been those. No, Harland hated those who were unnecessarily cruel, who found joy in the death and the despair, who fed from it like it sustained them. He had met many a man like that on the battlefield. In his time as a diplomat, rather than just a field commander, Harland had learned to see the difference.

The Duke heard the tone of her words and smiled, amused. "You would know best, I think, though I am not sure it is entirely as intimate as you are imagining." Despite her quip, he did mean a true dagger. Squirming a bit, Harland reached around to the waist of his trousers and removed the blade from its sheath. It was the same one he had fought with before. He had a nearly identical one in his rooms, its twin. Flipping it so it was hilt out, Harland extended it towards the blonde without a word.

It took him a moment to process what he wanted to say about his wounds. Eventually, he gave a slight shrug. "It is but a mirror image, my lady. I've collected many like them. But yes. It was one of your king's." He would not go into the details. He did not need Kit to know what had, almost undoubtedly, been done to the man.

KIT:

How quickly they flitted between melancholy and peace, the two of them. She felt like a little hummingbird, flying to and fro with pauses as short as a breath between all her emotions. She offered the Duke a small smile in her understands. Her own experience of the war was not one she talked about easily. Especially not to a veteran such as Harland Briar.

“Maddox is not exactly well loved by the other guards,” Kit replied, shutting her eyes briefly. She knew, of course, that it was unlikely another guard raised a sword against Maddox without an order. They had all been bested by Maddox too many times to take on such a herculean task without sufficient motivation. She withdrew her hands from the petals, suddenly aware she was on the verge of crushing one.

Kit took the hilt gingerly, taking care to make her fingers clumsy and her grip appear awkward as she held it. She turned it over carefully, as if she was afraid it would burn her. She went to hold it back out to Duke Briar when she saw the look on his face. Her prepared speech that would beg forgiveness for her ignorance of weaponry died on her lips.

HARLAND:

Harland’s eyes flickered to her face as she spoke, noticing the way she withdrew her hand from the flower. The petal she had been toying with was crumpled but no worse for wear, otherwise. He recognized that she did not speak on her experience of the war and, for that, the Duke was grateful. He knew it was incredibly different than his own, especially as tied to the king as it was. It made him wonder, truly, what she had seen.

Oberon claimed she knew nothing of war, was naive to its death and its pain, but Harland had seen the blood on her dress, too high up to be her own. It was no easy task to harm Balthazar Black, yet this supposedly frail woman had. It made him wonder how many secrets she kept from her king and, if she did, who she kept them with. If he had to guess, the Duke would think it was her shadow.

Speaking of Maddox…

“I am unsurprised, unfortunately,” Harland grimaced a bit but, then, had to hide a small, amused smile. “He’s rather hard to phase, though I’m sure you know such things. A bit of a stone wall, really.” When she took the dagger from him, The Duke’s brows raised into his hairline, sweeping over her posture and noting how it was deliberately loose. He had seen the way Kit sat, how she held herself. Even injured, she was prim and proper. The awkwardness she held the weapon was put upon and, clearly, she needed to work on such lies.

“With all due respect, my lady, if you are going to lie to me I would ask that you make it convincing.” He held up a hand, an amused smile on his face, but not angry. “You forget I carried you here. I saw the blood on your clothing and the blood on the ground. If you need to keep that hidden, by all means, but do not take me for a fool. I trained many of the soldiers under my command myself. I know when someone does or does not know how to wield a blade.”  

KIT:

“A mountain,” Kit corrected him. “All of Midsummer could burn and I am sure my shadow would remain. He cannot fall any more than a mountain could melt into the earth.” There was no trace of arrogance or pride in her voice, only the firmness of her belief. She knew well the weakness of the fae and was convinced that only Maddox was immune. He seemed to rise above mortal emotions or needs time and time again.

It was likely why he survived so long. In truth, she could not think of a single member of the King’s immediate household employ that had survived both the war and their king’s reign. Her beloved was quick to judgment and many a good servant or guard had fallen to his paranoia.

Kit frowned, but there was an involuntary twitch of the corner of the mouth that told the Duke she was as equally surprised to have been found out as she was pleased to have been complimented. She adjusted her grip and nodded.

“I fear you will ruin me, Duke Briar. A woman needs secrets like armor. Here I am deprived of both in such foreign territory.” Kit said, but her tone was light.

“I have found that usually, the bulk of the deception falls unto others. No reason to hide what others do not wish to see.” Kit continued, thinking carefully as she turned the blade over once more before allowing Harland to grip the hilt. “It is a fine blade, Your Grace.”

HARLAND:

“And yet you tell this to a faerie who has moved a mountain.” Harland meant nothing by the words. In fact, the irony was amusing, as was plain to see on the Duke’s face. He had no doubt Kit was right in her convictions; Maddox had been nothing but her support and her strength through the war, before and beyond, and it was clear to see in anything the pair did. There was a trust there that extended beyond the blonde’s faith in her king, something that meant where Oberon failed, Maddox did not.

The guard’s role in Kit’s life was immeasurable. It made Harland wonder how Maddox had lived so long against the Unseelie monarch’s jealousies.

“Armor can be concealed behind words just as easily as it can be worn out in the open, my lady. The trick is to learn how to control both.” He nodded in approval when she adjusted her grip, leaning back slightly into the seat. He’d rolled his sleeve down as she spoke, once more hiding the bandaging from view. His mind turned to the wounds Maddox had inflicted on himself and his face turned grim for a moment before shoving the thought away. The fact that they’d needed them at all was proof enough of the care they needed to take.

The game was dangerous, but it was worth what came from it, in the end.

He took the blade back and murmured his thanks quietly, thumb running over the serrated edges for a moment before tucking it safely away. “It carried me through the war. It is my hope that it will not need to carry me through another, but I would be...honored if Maddox would accept it.” The words were quiet, a tad sheepish, and he really didn’t know what to do with himself for having said them, but they hung between he and Kit now, out in the open.

KIT:

“Are you certain of that, Duke Briar? Perhaps you were moved as well.” Kit said, her blue eyes locked onto his own. There was nothing unkind in her gaze, but there was a sense of searching. After a few moments, a slight relaxation of her eyes signaled acceptance, at the very least, if not outright approval. No matter how kind the Duke seemed nor how welcoming his estate, there were still banners that divided them. She had her fair share of doomed loves and wanted no such thing for her shadow.

But as the Duke spoke, she realized it was far too late. Whatever had transpired as she lay half dead to the world had forever altered them all. Maddox was not the same man she remembered from the last time she saw him and even the Duke seemed different. Granted, her first encounter of the Duke was marred by flashes of blinding pain and heat and was thus unreliable.

She knew what love looked like. It had so many different forms, but for all its changing faces it could not hide. Based on the Duke’s words, she was not sure it wanted to hide, no matter how damaging its revelation would be.

She reached out, placing a hand on his. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, speaking so softly she was barely audible. If they wanted, they could pretend she had never said anything at all.

“He will. You should go to him.” Bring him back was the unspoken request.

HARLAND:

The Duke’s eyes snapped to hers at the blonde’s words, all the air rushing out of him in a single breath. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, then, something that he knew she could see, that he could not help her seeing no matter how much he hid it. He had no idea what he was doing, had no fathomable understanding of even attempting to. All he knew was that it had been a spark that had caught, ignited into something like a flame. He wanted to burn in it as much as he knew he should douse it. He knew it...and yet he could not bring himself to.

“Perhaps as much as a mountain can move the Erthe. Or, at the very least, shape it,” he whispered. He dropped her gaze then, toying with the hem of his tunic. It was a habit of his, born from nervousness and an abundance of pent up energy, but here it was a distraction from his thoughts. Thoughts, Harland knew, he should not be having. Yet he did. And he was not miserable for them, though he was ashamed to think that, perhaps, there were people who believed he should be. Balthazar, for one, had he known. His father, for another.

Her touch startled him and, just as he had earlier in the day, the Duke flinched at the softness of it. His fingers flexed beneath her hand, gripping harshly to a knee to still them, head ducked so she could not see his eyes. He breathed in, once, and then out. Did it again, hoping to quell the surge of...something in his breast. He did not want to leave herm knew with a quiet certainty that Maddox would probably be very royally pissed if he did. But he wanted-

He wanted.

“I am sure it is near supper,” he murmured at least, gently moving her hand from his. He stood, eyes searching her face, the corner of his mouth upturned by a hairsbreadth, and gave her a short nod. “I will return shortly with the news of its progress.” He bowed his head, a silent form of thanks, before turning on his heel and striding from the room, barking out orders to the guards to keep clear of the chamber unless requested

KIT/MADDOX:

She watched him leave, something between a grimace and a smile on her face. Whatever they had stumbled into- or rather what she had started by seeking out Balthazar- had long spiraled out of their control. All they could do know was hold and hope the aftermath would not be as horrible as they expected.

Maddox was in the stables. It was the only place he could ensure the King was truly gone.

He howled as he struck against the post with his fists over and over again, until the wood began to splinter and his skin was tearing. It hurt less to beat himself bloody than it was to think of-

No, do not.

Whatever was transpiring between himself and the Duke was stirring up emotions he had buried long ago. Or perhaps it was the fact that Kit- with her blazing eyes and infectious laughter- was fighting for her life and he had been powerless to aid her.

HARLAND:

It took the Duke very little time to find the other guard.

He just followed the howling.

It didn’t help that he’d run into Egan, either, anger and disapproval clear on the Halfling’s face. He and the lord had gone a round early into Kit’s recovery, argued over the presence of the Unseelie pair, the danger they possessed for everyone involved. Egan could always see straight through him; Harland also knew it was more than mere professional concern. He and the groom were friends, had been for a long while, even taking into account their stations. He knew it was worry that drove the man, but the disapproval still stung.

But, he didn’t speak anything of it now. Instead, Egan waved him away angrily, cursing the man out under his breath as he stalked away. Harland looked up for a moment, sucked in a breath and let it out. There was something to be said for the infinite patience he possessed; it seemed to be tried at every turn, these days.

The sight that greeted him as he pushed the stable doors open with a shoulder made the Duke’s eyes widen and his hands ache. Stepping in through the door, Harland shut it quietly behind him, moving forward quietly so he didn’t startle the man. He said his name, quiet, concerned, and waited.  

MADDOX:

It was a testament to how deeply he already cared for the other fae that he did not pull his sword and began to tear the post to pieces. He wanted to cut something down. But he heard his name, as soft as a whisper and turned towards its source.

There was Harland Briar, standing at the stable doors looking at him as if someone was stabbing him. Maddox exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. He could not pretend to be fine- his heaving shoulders and trembling hands took that option away.

“It’s almost worse here. At least in Roheim, I know to react means to lose my head. But to be here-” Maddox cursed.

“Perhaps the humans are right. Perhaps free will is a cruel gift.”

HARLAND:

When Maddox turned towards him, Harland breathed out a heavy gust of wind, shoulders falling ever so slightly. Like the other faerie, there were many things that had built upon his shoulders. There were days where he felt like he would be crushed beneath the weight of it all. He could not possibly imagine, truly, what it was that had piled onto Maddox’s shoulders in the years he had been under the king’s employ. But, perhaps, there was a way he could help ease it.

If not that then he could listen.

So, the Duke came forward, his advance slow, steps measured and even. He watched Maddox’s face the entire time, took in the tremble in his hands and the heaving of his shoulders, and recognized the pain as easily as his own.

“Free will is about as fickle as anything, I think, regardless of who possess it,” Harland agreed, coming closer as he spoke, voice pitched quiet like he was soothing a startled animal. In some ways he was, though there was far more behind it than that. “But bottling everything up only makes the fall harder, in the end. Believe me,” he said, a slight smile on his face, “I know.”

MADDOX:

“It will be my job to deliver her back into the lion’s den,” Maddox croaked. He stepped towards Harland.

“This is the first time in at least a century I have seen her more than an hour’s ride of the King,” Maddox whispered. “She was nearly killed but she blooms here regardless. I do not think she even realizes.”

Maddox shook his head as if he could clear all of his negative thoughts. He closed the distance between himself and Harland, still shaking. He wanted so badly to wrap himself up in Harland. He wanted to forget everything that bothered him. But he could not afford to keep falling apart. Not when Kit’s life hung in the balance. Not when there were so many enemies surrounded them.

“You and I both know I have no choice.” Maddox sighed, running his bruised and bloody hands throughout his hair.

“What do we do now?”

HARLAND:

"It will be your job to make sure she stays safe while she's there. As safe as she can possibly be, given the circumstances." It was a hard fact, a bitter thing to swallow, but it was fact all the same. Harland knew it just as surely as Maddox himself must. But he knew the guard blamed himself for many things, if not now then surely from the past that had led them to this point.

Maddox shook his head to clear it and Harland gave a sad laugh. He shook his head. "No, I do not think she does." Truth be told, Harland did not know if she ever would, or if Kit would continue to live in her denial. He had heard her remarks, knew that she saw the things Oberon did, but she was blinded by the care she held for him, however that may have been garnered. But she had a care for Maddox, too, and it drove them both forward.

The guard closed the distance and Harland stepped forward to meet him, a hand curling gently around a bicep to tug him in, the other sliding up beneath a hand that raked at his scalp. He made a noise when he examined the knuckles, ran a thumb carefully over the wounds, but didn't say a word about them. He had known men who did far worse to themselves to cope.

He had been lucky to run away when he could, though Harland supposed some of those reckless tendencies still remained.

He hummed a bit at the back of his throat, angling his head so he could look down at Maddox's face from such a close distance. "You've been given choice in my home, Maddox. React however you need to. I, of all fae, should not judge."

MADDOX:

Maddox nodded, He let himself relax into Harland’s embrace. He would give himself these few moments to forget himself. He would allow himself to rest in Harland’s arms. He was still trembling, violent urges and other dark emotions urging him forward. But Maddox remained still.

He matched his breathing to Harland’s, steadying himself. But as he calmed himself, he found himself developing tunnel vision. He had been keeping himself alive for a century by motivating himself by two things- that the Nighthawks needed him and that Kit needed him. He was not here to fall in love with a Seelie Duke. He was here to protect his charge- who was his dearest friend.Caring for himself felt like a luxury he could not afford. Embracing a Duke felt like an indulgence.

“Even with your blessing, you and I both know there is too much at stake. I should not have left her alone.” Maddox said. He placed a hand on Harland’s cheek.

“One day, I hope we will be able to cast aside our burdens and have no need to return to them. But not today.” Maddox said, sadly.

HARLAND:

As Maddox began to relax into his arms, Harland curled around him, bringing his other arm up to wrap loosely around the guard’s hip. If he needed to move, he could, and the Duke would let him. He was not trying to trap him, just to offer something steady to lean on. The Duke bowed his head, nose pressing into the hair on top of Maddox’s head, and kept his breathing steady. Soon, he could hear a response in the other faerie and he smiled, nodded a wordless form of encouragement. Nevertheless, he was still trembling.

Sliding the hand that had rested on his forearm down, Harland tucked it into his side, careful as his thumb found the other man’s ribs and rubbed circles into the flesh beneath his clothing, curling closer as he shifted his hold. There was a spiral to fall down, here, and he knew it well. So, when he spoke, the words were soft. “Your lady is fine for the time being, enough for you to collect yourself. A few moment’s time will not harm her, or you. No guard will enter that room, not while this is still my home.”

Harland knew at least that was true. The Avens’ guards might be inconspicuous but they had all witnessed what the Duke would do to those who defied his orders and they believed what they had seen of Maddox, as much as that sat poorly with him. The Duke smiled slightly, face tilting into Maddox’s palm and pressing his lips to it, eyes never leaving the other man’s face. “One day, perhaps, our burdens will not keep us going. Perhaps we just...will.”  

MADDOX:

Maddox sighed. He would have given anything to stay there forever. To take him up on his offer and just collect himself fully. But it was not in his nature to do anything the easy way. He gave the Duke a small, sad smile and pulled away.

“I should not have stormed out like that. I know better than to allow my emotions to get the best of me.” Or at least I used to. Maddox took another deep, steadying breath.

“I know you want to give me a place to rest. But my place- my duty is not here.” Maddox continued. “If roles were reversed, you would be at your post. I need to be at mine.”

It was no easy task to move away from the Duke, especially not when everything about him was so inviting. All the same, Maddox took a step towards the stable doors.

“Perhaps,” Maddox said, “and maybe on that day we will celebrate King Aven’s arrival.”

HARLAND:

Maddox sighed and pulled away and, as he had told himself he would, Harland let him. It would have been better if they’d had all the time in the world if they’d been able to forget the pains that had hurt them, the pains that had marked them, if only for a moment. Bargaining for more than that was like stitching a wound, far too messy and almost unpleasant if the situation could not accommodate for it.

Shaking his head, the Duke swept a hand through his hair, down his face. Peeking at him from between his fingers, Harland snorted, quietly and bowed his head. He heaved a sigh, just once, and then shook his head. “If I was meant to be at my post then why am I here,” he murmured, eyes studying the other man’s face for a moment before looking away. He stepped back a moment later, moved a bit to the side to allow Maddox to move towards the doors. “I told Kit we would join her for dinner or, at the very least, that you would.”

The remark made Harland laugh, even if it was a small thing, sad though it may have been.

MADDOX:

“Well then, I would hate to keep a lady waiting,” Maddox said. He wished he had the words to express how much these small gestures meant to him. The simple way there was no resistance when he broke away or how immediately the fae was at his side validated him. It was a source of support that he was unaccustomed to.

“It should be all of us,” Maddox replied. He could not bear the thought of eating dinner alone with Kit no more than he could bear the idea of parting with the Duke. They had been at each other’s sides constantly since he first arrived at the Briar estate. He had a shadow of his own now.

HARLAND:

The small, crooked smile that curled up the corner of his mouth could have cleared away a fog. Though he could still see that there were things that the guard was clearly struggling against, he was trying to keep himself together, for himself and for Kit. The voice was nearly the same, but there was still a waiver, something not entirely right with the way he was acting. Yet Maddox was trying, and that would be enough for Harland, for now.

Surprised at the words but...touched all the same, Harland gave a small nod, an acknowledgment of the reply as much as it was of what lay beneath it. “Well, then, perhaps we should clean your hands. I am sure your lady does not need to be reminded of your coping mechanisms, just like she does not need to learn mine.” It was not a criticism, merely a comment. He made to open the stable door wider but raised a brow in question, all the same.

MADDOX / KIT:

He snorted. “You mean to tell me she has not already figured it out?” Maddox raised an eyebrow. “Here I thought you might be the first Sidhe to refrain from estimating her.” But still, as they walked back towards the great hall he stopped and found himself a clean cloth to wipe his hands with. It was a comfortable silence between them and for that Maddox was grateful.

As they entered the great hall, they found Kit happily seated on the ground with two children. She was in clothes that complimented her with the pale tones, clearly on loan from the Briar Estate. As they drew nearer, they realized that neither Kit nor the children paid any mind to the two fae entering. Kit was braiding Cressida’s hair, her fingers moving far quickly and confidently that anyone would have expected.

“Why then, the dragon let out a great roar,” Kit said, her eyes widening for effect as she looked at Calix. Cressida went to shake her head in disbelief and Kit tugged on her hair- gently- as if to remind her that she was still working. Cressida and Calix could not help but laugh.

“And while he opened his great jaws- his teeth smelling of rot and spoiled meat-  I threw my sword with all my might into his eye.” Calix gasped and Kit nodded her head in response. She finished with Cressida, the girl’s hair pulled into an intricately braided bun that rested at the nape of her neck. Even with Kit’s hands removed from her head, Cressida did not leave her side.

“So the dragon died?” Kit shook her head and Calix groaned.

“No. But I do not think he will try to come for my jewels anytime soon.”

Kit turned her head and rose immediately when she realized Maddox and Harland had reappeared.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. These two charming members of your household were kind enough to help me pass the time as dinner was prepared. Perhaps you could forgive any duties they may have neglected while keeping me company?”

With this, she leaned into Calix’s ear and whispered in a less than quiet voice. “I always thought chores were the dullest thing in all of Midsummer.”

HARLAND:

"Yours...perhaps. Mine? She just might, depending on what happens in the month's time she is here. I do not underestimate a woman who can get a shot in on Balthazar Black." He crooked up a smile, waving a hand at the guard when he looked at him sharply. "You need not worry, Maddox. I know enough to keep silent. And yet I wonder who taught her, hm?" The mischievous grin Harland shot the guard's way was enough to lift the last of the fog that had settled over them.

As they made their way into the great hall, Harland leaned against the wall near the door, listening in quiet contemplation. Even with his arms folded over his chest, however, the look on his face was one of interest. Twitching his fingers where they rested on his arm, Harland let a tendril of glamour magic loose, a miniature dragon swooping in on large, black wings. Just as Kit had suggested, it had one eye.

Harland knew who she was speaking of, even if he would not acknowledge it. For the time being, it would be a little boy's bedtime tale.

The glamoured dragon gave a quiet roar as it wheeled around between the children and the woman on the floor, Harland's grin growing as the little boy's eyes became the size of saucers. His older sister caught the look on first her brother's face and, then, the lord's and shook her head, smiling at the wonder that Harland had caused.  

The dragon faded along with Kit's story and Harland straightened, brow arching when he heard Kit apologize for their company. Shaking his head, the Duke waved her apologies away. Instead, he turned an eye to the siblings. Only the younger one looked sheepish. "It's quite alright, my lady. They're not in trouble. Even though Calix should be sleeping. Cressida is free for the evening. Though I'm sure she appreciates the marvelous braid you've given her."

The young girl looked up at Harland with wide eyes, a small, guilty smile on her face. Turning, Cressida thanked the blonde quietly before rising to her feet. She walked over to Harland and went to speak, eyeing Maddox hesitantly, but stopped when she saw his arm. The bandages were exposed. Wide-eyed, Cressida's small fingers reached out towards the Duke before thinking better of it. Instead, she looked up into his face, anger and worry laced in her gaze. Harland merely gave her a smile, nodding his head towards the door. She stared at him, suspicious, before sighing and calling for her brother. Calix jumped up, wiggling carefully from Kit's side, and followed her out with a cheerful good night, none the wiser to what had transpired between his sister and the Sidhe.

Harland made sure they were gone before speaking up, running a hand across his jaw as he did. "Forgive me, my lady. The children do not get many visitors. They have had...a difficult life." He turned to Maddox, gave an apologetic smile. "Cress...she is remise to trust, unlike her brother."

MADDOX / KIT:

“They must be a clever bastard to have slipped past both the King and myself,” Maddox replied, returning the fae’s grin. He decided then in the great hall that he might never have such a happy moment. Despite all that had happened, Kit looked whole. She looked vibrant as she told a much kinder version of how she acquired her burns. Harland began to conjure things- which sent chills down his spine- but he could not deny the wonder in the children’s eyes.

Kit, to her credit, was unfazed by the illusion’s appearance. She continued on as if she had been planning such an event the whole time. When the children departed, she was careful to throw Calix a wink before she went on. The girl seemed far too serious for one so young but she supposed human children had no other choice.

Kit waved away Harland’s apology. “There is no need to apologize for children. They are lovely in spite of whatever ugliness befell them.” Kit placed a hand on the chair, a poor attempt to subtly support herself. She looked as if she had run from Roheim and back. Her skin was pale and beads of sweat clung to her forehead, but she still managed to smile at them both as if nothing was wrong.

Maddox remained tight-lipped. Fear and suspicion were usually in the eyes of those who stared at him and it had long since stopped bothering him. But now that the children had departed and a majority of the servants had run along, it was just the three of them. He did not know where to begin. Today was truly the first day that Kit had been coherent for any amount of time- even then only because the Unseelie physician insisted on weaning her from her draughts so she could be alert for the King’s visit.

If they had been in Roheim, there would be no possibility of discussion. But here, they were freer than before. Maddox had a million thoughts swirling in his mind. He wanted to share them with both Kit and Harland, but instead, he remained silent.

HARLAND:

Catching the disgruntled look on the guard’s face as the conjuring faded away, Harland cocked a brow to the side, asking a silent question. When Maddox didn’t say a word, the Duke resolved to file it away to ask for another time. He had seen the way that Kit interacted with the children and did not marvel at it but, rather, tucked that away too. She liked children or, at the very least, enjoyed telling tales. It was a rather...endearing quality in someone that had been touched by so much cruelty in her life, by someone who loved a faerie that was as cruel as he was. Harland had oft wondered since her recovery began what Kit Scarlet had been like before the war, before she’d met Oberon Aven and had been whisked away to be Midsummer’s worst kept secret.

Still, she looked happier, now. Tired, yes, and certainly pained. But happy.

“Quite a lot, I am afraid.” He replied, voice dropping to a low pitch so the words did not carry any further than the three of them. He was hesitant to provide any information on their backgrounds, as much as he wanted to believe Maddox nor Kit would see any harm done to them. The rest of the Unseelie in his home were not so...able to earn his trust with such a matter. It would be best not to speak of it at all. “The war displaced them and I took them in.”

Rounding the corner of the table, Harland casually offered an arm to the woman as she gripped the back of her chair with fierce little hands, a small smile lighting up his eyes for but a moment. He gestured for Maddox to sit and, when he had and Kit was situated in her place, Harland sat last. Zinnia had already brought the food out, had done so while the children had scampered off, so they were, the three of them, alone for the first time since the pair’s arrival at Thornhill.

Pouring himself a few fingers of whiskey, Harland offered the bottle to them both with a gesture. He made a mental note to thank the cook for the food she’d given them. Harland’s quiet request for something that would bring Kit’s vigor back after her...exertion for the day had been met tenfold.

KIT/ MADDOX:

As in perfect synchronization, both Kit and Maddox nodded at the Duke’s word. Neither of them asked any more questions.

It was a lovely, far more extensive than necessary for such a small party. Maddox looked around uneasily. While of course, he agreed to dinner just moments before, he realized he had never dined with Kit and someone else. At times, they are together but usually if Kit has company he was to be at his post.

As Harland helped her to the table, Kit returned his smile. “You must tell your staff how grateful I am. It looks wonderful.” It was silent then for a moment, with tension running like an undercurrent, but it was not unbearable.

When Harland offered the bottle, Kit reached for it.

“Kit, perhaps-“ Maddox began but then stopped as she glared at him.

“Hush, Maddox. I think I have earned myself a drink.” He paused for a moment as if deciding whether or not it was worth it to fight her on this. In the end, he elected to let it go. Satisfied and smiling to herself, Kit took her fill pouring herself a generous amount before passing the bottle to Maddox.

“So,” she began, in a voice filled with a cheer she did not truly feel, “you all know what I have been up to every moment since I first arrived. Perhaps you might fill me in on what I missed?”

HARLAND:

Watching as the pair settled into their seats, Harland noticed the discomfort the guard displayed, brow furrowing for a moment as he wondered at it. Tuning back into the blonde's words, the Duke inclined his head, a small shrug following the action. "I shall pass the praise along. I hope Zinnia made the food to expectation." He paused, an almost sheepish look taking over his features before he cleared his throat and tried again."I inquired after food you and Maddox would be accustomed to from Belladonna. Many of the dishes are similar to ours, with little variation to different regional tastes."

His fingers toyed with a utensil for a moment, eyes not looking at either the woman or the guard seated across from him.

When the bottle was removed from his hands, Harland cut his eyes back towards the pair, watching passively as their little tiff ironed itself out, a small quirk of his lips indicating he was listening even if he appeared not to be. Maddox was only doing what he believed to be in Kit's interest but she deserved even the smallest reprieve from her pain.

The false cheer immediately set him on guard, however, and the Duke turned a critical eye to the woman at his side. Brows raising into his hairline at the inquiry, Harland refused to look over at Maddox. It would give her far too much satisfaction. Instead, he smiled, a bright thing, and said "a drinking game, my lady. And a lesson. Nothing more."

KIT/ MADDOX:

“It is lovely, Your Grace.” Kit said. Maddox’s glance to Harland- one was like the look someone gives their old home-  said more than any of his courtesies could. Kit attempted to eat- it was clear she was hungry- but it was also equally clear that even the effort of eating exhausted her. She was more likely to reach for her drink than her utensils. Maddox, on the other hand, seemed oddly comfortable at such formal dining despite the years since he had been allowed to partake in an event.

Kit laughed aloud at Harland’s reply.  “But of course, Your Grace. And Duke Black and I were just having a friendly sparring match,” she said, matching his bright tone. Maddox nearly choked, beating his chest with a fist for a moment. Kit continued on, seemingly unaware, though the slight smirk on her face demonstrated the opposite.

“Am I allowed to participate in such games? Or is this a game reserved for soldiers?” Kit continued.

HARLAND:

Rather than choke as her shadow had, Harland merely chuckled. "I suppose you could call it that, yes. Though, really it was hardly a lesson. The poor bastard was sloppy. Spoon fed." The disdain in his voice was clear, as was the way his gaze darkened for a moment, eyes flickering to Maddox for the briefest of seconds, having caught the glance thrown his way. It still rankled him, the way Ser Gregor had acted. Not because he had disrespected Harland, no. That was easily corrected. No, it had been the way he had so easily been able to turn on his own comrades.

Where Harland came from, they were yours. Your family and your blood. You gave up yours for them, died for them. If your Queen asked you to kill them there better be a damn well good reason for it.

The Duke stabbed his fork a tad more harshly into his food than intended and he grimaced, a quiet apology falling from his lips. Sucking in a breath Harland said, "We spoke of the war, Kit, as old soldiers do. But, no, it is not reserved for us."

He almost expected the look on her face, one similar to a cat that had gotten the bird, the cream, and all the rest. It was still disconcerting, however, when it was directed at him. Such a knowing look, and the Duke felt like it pierced him straight through. "Ask what you would like, my lady. I'll answer, if I can."

It was a show of good faith, he knew, and he wanted to see what Kit would do with it.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox picked up his glass, drinking deeply. It was so easy to slip back into the old habit of observing. He watched the irritation flicker across the Duke’s face and the way his fork momentarily became a weapon and did not avert his gaze. Maddox could not help but stare at the man, amazed. What did he still believe in that Ser Gregor’s actions surprised him? Ser Gregor may have acted with unnecessary vigor, but most in the King’s employ knew it was better to be seen as over-eager to serve rather than hesitant.

Kit placed a hand on Maddox’s. “Dear shadow, remind me of the rules. I would hate to be underprepared to play against such fearsome fae like yourself and the Duke.” Maddox rolled his eyes.

“Guess correctly, they drink. Guess incorrectly, you drink.” Kit squeezed his hand, sighing as if she was resigning herself to something tedious.

“Well given I play with both my shadow and a man who brought me into his estate naked, I fear I do not possess much of an advantage. Pity,” Kit said, her voice filling out as she seemed to pick up energy. The prospect of a game seemed to revitalize her far more than the food did. She made a show of placing a hand on her chin, studying Harland with a seriousness as theatrical as it was sincere.

“I have heard you had to teach such a lesson in defense of a new love of yours, Duke Briar.”

HARLAND:

"A knight is sworn to Valor, his heart knows only Virtue. His temper shall be held by patience. He will aid those who seek it and ask for aid when needed." The words flowed from Harland's mouth easily, the pieces memorized early on in his time as a knight. His forefinger drew a circle around the rim of his glass before he drank, eyes catching and holding the guard's. Turning, the Duke addressed Kit, a stoicism in his face that indicated he meant every word. "Where I come from, there is more to a guard than merely standing beside his monarch. There is honor in what he does and that honor connects you to your brothers and sisters in arms. When it is lost, when you would turn your back on your brother for nothing more than a token of praise, there is no honor left in you."

He picked up his glass and drank deeply, his words hanging in the air between them all.

"There is a part of me that thinks you enjoy playing with fire, my lady." The words were said with no malice, nothing meant by them, but Harland raised a brow at Kit's actions regardless. He reached across the table and took the bottle from Maddox, refilling his glass a substantial degree more than it had previously held. He had a feeling he would need it.

"But I suppose it comes with the territory. The lesson was well-earned, Kit. I would have done it regardless." He sipped at his drink, studying her, before continuing on. He would not mince words with her. She did not need it. "There is far more my rights as a liege lord can do for you both than they cannot, one of which includes offering Maddox a protection he will not have otherwise. There are many in Wisteria who would want him dead, you included. My sigil protects you both, as does my position on the Council. It is the least I could do."

There was far more that could be said, should be said, but he did not wish to air it out here over dinner. It was far too damming already.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox stiffened as Harland spoke, turning his eyes to his plate. Kit’s question alone would have been enough cause to keep his gaze downcast for the next century, but speaking of virtues and protection filled him a shame that seemed to choke him. What business did a spy like him, a sellsword like him, have to such devotion? To such honor?

Kit’s eyes never left Harland's, weighing him carefully. She had heard pretty words from pretty lips before, but it was something in the Duke’s eyes that softened her. She reached a hand towards Maddox, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. It was a simple enough gesture, but it was done almost reflexively.

If Maddox had looked up, he would have seen that Kit was looking at Harland with a mixture of gratitude and approval. He might have been relieved to see for all of her bluntness and ferocity, she seemed to have calculated the cost of the stakes and still held a fondness for whatever had blossomed while she lay comatose to the world. But Madox’s gaze remained firmly on the ground, as if he could simply listen in without partaking.

Kit smiled. “Perhaps you enjoy dancing with the flames as well, Your Grace.”

HARLAND:

The Duke held the small woman's gaze, evenly. Knew he was being assessed and allowed her to continue at it. He knew the ways they were intertwined, could see It as much as he could guess at it. He saw the way Maddox stiffened at his words but he had continued on. If anything, the actions the other man had taken for Kit proved that he was more worthy of such vows than some Harland had known in his time.

Eyes flickering to the finger drug across the other faerie's knuckles, Harland cataloged that gesture away for another time. There was a familiarity there that spoke to so much between the two, a comfort that did not exist outside of them. Not even with the King. It was...intriguing. As intriguing as it was potentially damning.

Yet, again, Kit's bluntness did not shock him. Harland laughed, a tinge bitter, and moved a hand to his throat, drawing a finger down the thick scarring that wrapped around his neck. "Some would say more than most, my lady. But I suppose I was never able to stop."

Turning away from the woman, then, Harland studied the faerie across from him, taking in the war he removed himself from the conversation, cast his eyes down and looked away. There were many things he did not know about Maddox Maziac but the ability to, truly, become a shadow was plain for all to see. So, when Harland next spoke it was only to him, and in Owain, though he hardly believed Kit did not understand.

"Many of us do, after all. Might even run in my family, though I'd hardly be surprised, given the rumors about my mother. Maddox, what's your guess? You must have more you want to know."

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox looked up, seeming surprised to have been addressed. He turned his face to Kit, who returned his gaze with a soft smile. Then, Maddox fiddled with his utensils for a moment. It was harder to hide the fondness between the two men here in front of Kit, who always seemed to divine exactly what was in a man’s heart. Kit may have claimed to be at a disadvantage, but it was Maddox who felt truly vulnerable.

“You carve trinkets for the human children in your care. You spend many nights fretting over them. You cherish them and wish to preserve them. The trinkets, you carve, of course.” Maddox replied, the implication anything but. Kit leaned back in her chair, so that she could observe both men without having to turn her head.

Information about wood carving surprised Kit, but in truth, she was surprised Maddox would waste a guess on something so visible. The practiced indifference Harland donned whenever company was near his staff spoke volumes. It was clear in his praise of the cook and in the way he seemed to send the children as far away from Unseelie eyes as possible.

HARLAND:

A soft smile curled around Harland's mouth, as unhelped as anything could be in a time like this. The Duke leaned back in his chair for a moment, studying the other faerie, before nodding and drinking. Unbuttoning his coat pocket, Harland withdrew and intricately done whale, from his time in Shark clan territory.

Holding it out for a moment, the blond studied the piece, running a finger over its curves to ensure there were no stray edges. Then, he placed it on the table in front of Maddox. A second, a bear, he placed in front of Kit.

"Not just for the children, but yes. Ask Calix. He has plenty of them. And...there are many reasons I would protect them. For one, they are children and, for another, they have seen far too much in their lives. The least I can do is offer them someplace to hide away from it all." Harland tapped his fingertips against the side of his glass, pondering his own question.

Finally, he turned to Kit once more. The shrug he gave her was almost helpless, a small thing and boyish in its movement. "You care for children, my lady. It does not matter who they are, nor their parentage. You are fond of them all the same." Harland shot her a small smile and raised his glass in a bit of a toast, sipping from his drink.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox took the whale with one hand, running his thumb over it. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the sea and hear the songs of his people. He was overcome with longing for home and for the man who gave him this gift.

Kit picked up the bear, turning it over in her hands. She liked to hear the way Owain sounded on their tongues. It was as if they created their own refuge away from everything else. She felt safe. It was evident in the way she carried herself and the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

Kit raised her glass in response before drinking. “When the Prince was born, it was the happiest day of my life. There are not many children in the castle. When he laughs, I am almost convinced there is no evil in this world.” She spoke with a tenderness that only a mother could feel.

She turned to Maddox then. She leaned in at the edge of her seat, their faces inches away from each other as she studied him, a playful smile on her face. She held it for a moment before leaning back into her seat and nodding.

“You would trade your sword for a spear in a heartbeat if you could.” Kit seemed pleased with herself, as if she had divined a secret. But Maddox only frowned, pushing her glass towards her.

“My place is at your side, my lady,” Maddox said, shaking his head. “I will see the sea again when I meet my makers and not before.”

Kit looked stricken, her hand shaking as she took a sip from her glass.

HARLAND:

Harland watched as they examined the trinkets. There was a certain sadness on Maddox's face, a longing there he had not seen before. It was something Harland himself understood, though in a different sense. He longed for the sea just as much as he longed for the Wildlands. They were a place of peace for him. To Maddox, they had been home, once.

The Duke tore his eyes away to watch the blonde as she drank and spoke, a small, thin smile on his face. The birth of the Prince was just another nail in the coffin of Midsummer. But he was a child. Children had no say who their parents were, not even if they are chosen by them. Harland bid him no ill will, despite who his father was.

He was hardly surprised his guess had been correct.

Turning to look at the guard once more, Harland's heart skipped when he denied her guess. The Duke shook his head, a small sad smile on his face.

"You can both see the sea, my lady. When you are better suited for travel, I will escort you both." The Owain he spoke now was differently accented, that which Maddox's father would speak. It was as much a promise as it was a declaration. He would not let the guard keep his roots buried, not when it meant it would bury a part of himself, and certainly not for him or for Kit.

"You would like to see the sea, my lady, as much for your guard as you would yourself. I do not blame you. It is said to have healing properties. I suppose I can attest to that." He gave a small toast before sipping from his glass.

KIT/MADDOX:

Maddox swallowed hard as he watched Kit. Once again, he found himself walking a dangerous line. Only this time it was with Kit Scarlet. Which was more damning, he wondered, a Seelie Duke or an Unseelie  King’s mistress?

Kit stared back. Without hair or even eyelashes to hide behind, she felt as naked as a newborn. She did not want to see the things she saw in Maddox’s gaze. It was too dangerous to give a name to. The King already was considering killing him once they returned to Midsummer. If he suspected her protests on Maddox’s behalf were due to-

She felt her heart pounding in her throat and was eternally grateful that Harland broke the silence with his proposal. It was as if he was throwing them a lifeline.

“I think I might want to see the ships even more than the sea, but yes.” She said, taking a much longer drink than necessary.

Somehow Maddox looked even more forlorn. For all intents and purposes, he was lost to the Shark Clan the day he fought under Unseelie banners. It was said his own father no longer spoke his name. But these were not things to be discussed, not here. Regardless of his feelings, he would not jeopardize his position with the Nighthawks. He would have to speak with Harland later.

HARLAND:

For his own peace of mind, the Duke kept his gaze even, eyes cordially downcast, as he waited for the pair to cease their staring match. Just as he had done before, Harland wondered what lay beneath the veneer, the thin wall that separated them for propriety's sake.

There was more than enough evidence for Harland to file away, to keep to himself or use as he saw fit, but there was no point in any of it. One way or another, they were damned. It did not matter who let the final stroke fall, did it? Besides, he knew he could not harm Maddox that way. Kit...well she was a mystery on her own. But to harm her would be to harm Maddox, and Harland did not have the heart for either option.

Things he had believed he should hate stared him in the eye and his heart skipped instead. It was a true puzzle, but Harland found he did not wish to solve it.

Still, when Kit spoke, Harland found himself nodding along, a small upturn of his lip indicating a smile. "They are lovely, yes. Well-made. The men who use them know what they are doing. I, unfortunately, do not. I've an idea, but was never...the man who was to teach me...he died, during the war, before I could be enlisted to the front." The Duke stared down into his glass for a moment, shoulders drooping, before indicating for someone else to speak their turn.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Kit smiled at Harland. “It will be an adventure then. For all of us to learn.” She wished she knew how to ease the sadness that seemed to envelop the men near her.

Maddox took a long drink before turning to face Kit, his gaze unreadable even to her.

“You still don’t hate Balthazar. Even though you want to.”

Kit frowned and drank from her glass. Maddox seemed to wait for an explanation, but Kit gave none. Instead, she turned to Harland, her expression blank.

“While disappointed, you are not surprised that Balthazar Black is capable of nearly killing me.”

HARLAND:

He returned Kit's smile with one of his own, one that was not as soft but it was genuine all the same. It eased a bit of the sadness in the room, but there it still hung between them all, like a thick fog.

Maddox's guess was true and so Kit drank. The guard's face was unreadable, but Harland did not linger on the thought of it long. Kit had turned her mischievous eye to him, now, and the Duke steeled himself for her questions.

He laughed. The sound was unsurprised. Harland shook his head and drank deeply. "They call him the Black Dragon for a reason, my lady. I have tried to garner something like...trust in him, from the people. I have tried." He splayed his hands, shook his head. "But it is a thankless job when the man you are trying to save damns himself as often as he is able. While he saved my life, he has almost ended it, as well. Such is how things go."

Steepling his fingers beneath on the tabletop, Harland turned his eye to the faerie across from him. There was nothing harsh about his face. Instead, only a curiosity.

"You miss your family."

KIT/ MADDOX:

There was something almost like nostalgia in the smile she gave Harland. She could see Balthazar in her mind’s eyes as he was when they were younger. The same damning ferocity and passion. If she had been alone, she would have broken down into sobs. But instead, she downed her drink and reached for the bottle.

Maddox raised an eyebrow at Harland before taking a drink. “I have a sister I would have liked to see grow up. I hear she’s done it without me. Grown to be quite ferocious if the whispers are to be believed.”  His voice was quiet. He spoke of his sister the way those in mourning speak of their dead. To Maddox, his family was even less accessible than the dead. At least you could visit the dead where they rested. But Maddox? Maddox was likely to be speared on sight if he entered Shark clan territory.

He turned to Kit, but Kit raised a hand as she filled her cup far more than a woman of her size should. “I’ve decided it’s not fair my shadow should ask me questions. I can keep no secrets from you,” she said, without a trace of malice. “Besides, what if you were to take advantage of my drunken state?”

Maddox guffawed.

“I have peeled you off the floor of every godsforken tavern in Midsummer, my lady, but as you wish.” He replied, motioning to Harland.

HARLAND:

The Duke smiled a bit and nodded. "I'm certain she is. Runs in the family, or so I hear." He gave a bit of a cheeky wink and took a drink before turning away from the ma. There were some things to be said for the questions he asked, and he would not push further than he was warranted. But, if he had an inkling of who Maddox's sister was he was certain that the guard would know he was right.

Rather than speak any further, Harland quirked his own brow at the woman, a quiet laugh escaping him at the banter between the two, a genuine smile at the laughter that came from the guard. With the way she could drink, it was hardly a surprise, if Harland was being honest. Standing quietly, the Duke collected the empty bottle and walked it over to the sill near the stores.

He grabbed another bottle and came back with it, gesturing helplessly as he placed it on the table in front of the pair. "I think we will need another, hm?"

Settling back down into his seat with a sigh, Harland studied first Kit and then Maddox before giving a tired sigh.

"All of our lives were changed by the war, in more ways than we could have ever anticipated."

He toasted them both and then drank.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Magic and Monsters

Champ x Reader

Magic and Monsters

Prompt: I just watched the Goosebumps movie and I was really sad that no one wrote anything for it! So, maybe a oneshot about Champ. You’re Zack’s sister and Champ is just in awe of you and tries to woo you and he thinks it’s futile until it’s the scene on the Ferris wheel and maybe you tell him you like him just in case you both die. And maybe afterward when everything is okay you kiss?

Note: AAAAAAH I LOVE CHAMPPP <3 GOD BLESS

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1053

Tonight was not going as planned. At all. Your stupid brother had gotten you both into a huge freaking mess complete with a gang of ghouls and a living dummy.

You were currently hiding out in a grocery store with Zack, his new friend Champ, his soon-to-be girlfriend Hannah, and Hannah’s dad, who also happened to be R.L. Stine. Quite a bunch. And then there was you, a White Witch, even though the others were unaware of this fact. Well, until now.

A gigantic snarling werewolf was perched above where Stine was hiding under the table. In the moment before he noticed him, you threw your hand forward, shouting a defense spell.

“Relinquo!”

A flash of white magic shot from your palm, blasting the werewolf to a puddle of ink. Already, it began to reassemble, but the shot of energy had given you all enough time to escape the store, finding refuge in the parking lot outside. This time, when the werewolf attacked, it was taken out by your aunt’s car.

Finally, when there was a calm moment, you finally noticed the look Champ was giving you. His eyes were wide, mouth open in awe. He couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What?” You finally asked.

“That was...the coolest thing ever! How did you do that?” Champ asked. He took one of your hands, turning it over to look at it in hopes of finding an explanation to what you had done inside the store.

“Yeah, I’m gonna second that.” Zack looked at you uncertainly. Not even your own brother had known you could do that.

“I’m a witch. I thought you sort of knew that.”

“I knew you liked candles, but…” Zack shook his head. “Wow, that might have been useful earlier.”

“It’s not exactly something I can control. Next thing you know, I’ll just be another monster on the shelf.”

Champ looked at you sadly, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“I’m not scared of you.” he whispered, his voice growing louder as he became more confident. “Actually, do you want to go out for dinner sometime? I know this great place-”

“I’m not sure now is the time for that.” You cut him off sort of quickly when the group started jogging off towards the graveyard.

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

***

The night, just when you thought it couldn’t get any crazier, had led you through a graveyard full of zombies, a crazy high school dance attacked by a giant mantis, and now to an amusement park of all places. As it turned out, Hannah wasn’t all that normal either. She was a ghost. This explained the look she had given you when you talked about being a monster on the shelf.

You were guessing she knew the feeling.

The five of you had hidden in the Funhouse for a hot second, but then Slappy appeared in the mirrors, around every corner and bend. Champ was shaking, fear in his eyes. And as soon as Slappy released the Blob from the book, you grabbed Champ’s wrists and tugged him along with the others.

The only place to hide now was the Ferris Wheel. It was the only place high enough to escape the Blob’s gelatinous mass.

You were crammed between Zack and Champ, heart racing as you watched your brother’s fingers fly across the keyboard.

“The End!” Zack pulled the pages out of the typewriter and jammed them into the manuscript.

“What happens now?!” Champ panicked, looking down at the monsters that were starting to assemble at the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. It was then that the shit hit the fan. The wheel lurched forward, beginning a deadly roll down the hill. You gripped Champ’s hand as tight as you could and raised the other, letting the power flow to your fingertips and then shouting a protective spell.

“Praesidio!”

A wispy ball of white light enveloped the four of you, protecting you from the wind, the gravity, the fall. When you landed, the ball shattered like glass, causing you to collapse on the ground as the four of you were thrown from the cart. Your body felt numb, limbs tingling with the remains of whatever magic you had left.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Champ, Zack, and Hannah rushed to your side.

“Zack, open the book. I’ll be fine.” Your voice was weak. Champ kneeled beside you, pulling you into his lap. You felt like your arms were noodles, and you could barely move. You couldn’t get your eyes to focus, so everything was blurry, and you couldn’t take a full breath.

Zack’s eyes lingered on yours, waiting to make sure you were okay. He had never seen you like this before, but protecting the group had taken its toll.

“I’ve got her.” Champ promised Zack. Your brother looked at you for a little while longer before venturing out into the clearing with Hannah.

“Champ…” you looked up at him, unable to reach out or do anything more than move your mouth.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He tried to act calm, but he was freaking out and you could tell. He had never met a witch before, and he didn’t know how to handle this.

“No, listen.” You blinked a few times and exhaled a long breath. “I really like you. And if we get out of this alive, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“R-really?” he smiled and laughed a little. “I thought you were gonna say you never wanted to see me again, but that works too.”

You laid there unable to move for several more minutes. Slowly, the feeling was coming back to your numb limbs. You wiggled your fingers, curled your toes, rolled your wrists, and then eventually sat up.

Champ’s eyes widened at the feeling of your lips on his, warm and soft. His eyes were wide and he didn’t how to react. He had never been kissed before. What was he supposed to do with his hands? He felt your hands, soft against his cheeks. And then, when you pulled away, he exhaled a dreamy sigh.

“I’m sorry. You probably weren’t-”

Before you could finish your statement, his arms were tight around you, pulling you close to him.

“I never thought I’d know what magic felt like, but believe me, it was amazing.”

[lovehotelreservation]

Sweet and Easy

Summary: There was something so irresistible about Gintoki, a simple man of simple pleasures who never refrained from going all out when it comes to pleasuring you.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Gintoki

Hello everyone! Here comes a bit more spam from he who prefers sweet over savory~ Thank you to darling @hotdiodick for this request as I had a DELIGHTFUL time working on this prompt, especially once I found further inspiration from “Sweet and Easy” by Wonder Girls, which this one-shot is titled after!

I hope you enjoy!

**Warning: I know this seems silly (but oddly fitting) since this is a Gintama fic, but this one-shots contains spoilers for Persona 5!

—————

“…This is your treat, right?”

Suspicion in his eyes, Gintoki’s gaze flickered from your face back to the vast array of desserts currently situated on the table. They all looked so decadent, even if there were some so elaborate that he almost felt reluctant to eat any of them.

“This is my treat!”

You giggled, all while your admired his expression. Though his eyes were narrowed in scrutiny, you could see him trying to hide back his pure, utter glee to see all the sweets presented right before him.

“This isn’t a ruse, or anything…right?”

His finger hovered over one of the cupcakes, wondering whether he should swipe his finger at the frosting to taste, or remain cautious.

“It’s totally not a ruse!”

You reassured him, shaking your head. While Gintoki’s behavior was humorous to watch, you just wished he would indulge in the treats as you wanted him to do. As you spent the day dogsitting Sadaharu while he, Shinpachi, and Kagura were out fulfilling a request–a successful endeavor that was nothing short of a miracle–all you wished was to do was to indulge and splurge on sweets with your boyfriend.

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, a stare that dared not to waver in its intensity.

“This isn’t some trap for you to take some long-harbored vendetta against me, correct? You’re not disguising yourself as a dear companion to me in order to seek revenge on your father, who looks like a bald Gendo Ikari, yeah? You don’t possess any Stand ripoffs like Hobin Rood or Kilo, right? I am in no mood to ever to dress like a stupid kitsune–I’m not into that sort of thing, for I am a man of simple desires like creampies, facials, spanking, humiliation, and ana–”

Gintoki was interrupted, his mouth muffled and suddenly full of a green tea-flavored bun.

Though your expression was affectionate, the grip of your hand on the dessert was not–how could you when he was listing kinks in the middle of one of Edo’s most lavish dessert shop, all while a wealthy-looking mother and child were passing by as they headed to their table, of which you motioned towards with your head. In response, you admonished him with a huff, “Gintoki, it’s just a date! What, I can’t treat my own boyfriend every now and then?”

Your boyfriend breathed against the bun, his eyes furrowed as he tried to work his mouth around the soft, slightly flaky texture so he may bite into it. Once he was able to get a decently-sized chew, he drew his head back, his eyes narrowed towards you as he spoke, even with food in his mouth. “Oi, you know I’m into that sort of thing, but in reverse. If anyone’s getting a mouthful of sausage bun, it’s going to be you.” He pointed his index finger towards you for emphasis, though seeing your lips curl into a grin and your eyes twinkle at the thought only made him gulp–bun included–and feel a rush of excitement.

Still, not to give in to you so easily, he continued, “Usually when people are nice to me, they have something they want–like money or revenge.”

“Well in my case–” Your expression softened, becoming tender as you slowly pointed at yourself, your lips becoming full and pouty. “–I just want your love, Gintoki. Is that too much to ask for?”

Gintoki’s hands flew up to his clothes as he let out a tremendous roar while leaping to a stand, his face immediately feeling and looking fiery hot. He noticed that your innocent expression remained, but with years of being your lover, he could see beneath that mask was a contortion of smug triumph. In the same regard from your end, you knew how there was nothing that he wished to protect more than the sweet smile on your face.

Or whatever relevant metaphor he would mention with utter seriousness while squaring off against the main villain of the current arc.

Which, honestly, you were truly the most formidable opponent he had ever had to deal with.

One who knew all his weaknesses, how to extort his vices, when he was at his most vulnerable state.

Truly this was why there was no one more perfect for him than you.

Teeth gritting together in a scowl, he hissed, “H-How dare you use such underhanded sweetness against me?!”

“Sir! Is everything alright?!”

His head shifted to the side, realizing that a flustered waitress was standing close by, with other nearby tables looked utterly startled by his outburst. From the corner of his eye, he could see your head turn—which, knowing you–meant you were about to utter out some excuse for his behavior. But as your mouth opened, he cleared his throat while reaching over to take the green tea bun from your hands.

“Ahh my apologies. I was just taken aback by the deliciousness of the restaurant’s cusine,” he droned as he plopped back down onto his seat, right before he took another bite while waving the waitress off with his other hand. “I’m a well-known Yip reviewer, so I was practicing my overdramatic write-up for later. Don’t worry, I promise to give as many thumbs ups to this place as possible. In fact, I’ll even ram it in, because I have a fondness for ana–”

“Angelic Parfaits!” You chirped suddenly, your voice tight and your tone high. Smiling a bit too cheerily at the waitress, you continued, “That’s the specialty of this place, right? Those really big ones that’s supposed to reach the heavens, or something like that? We’ll take the azuki one please!” Your expression becoming sheepish, you gestured towards your boyfriend with your hand. “He’s been looking forward to trying one for a while, so he’s just a little excited.”

As if it wasn’t clear from days spent together beforehand, at this moment, forever with you was something he greatly looked forward to.

Though the waitress still looked unnerved, she slowly nodded while taking out her notepad, scribbling your order. “V-Very well then.” She turned to leave, much like how the other restaurant patrons curiously stared a moment longer at the two of you before returning to minding themselves.

Gintoki immediately faced your direction. “I love you.”

Even with the playful exasperated sigh you released, your heart fluttered with joy, matched by the laugh you let out. “I love you too, Gintoki.”

His ‘suspicions’ of your intent cleared up, he held no restraint to feasting the tabletop-full of fancy, expensive desserts and sweets. There was no metaphor for this. He truly was an overgrown kid at a candy store. You couldn’t help but 'aww’ and coo over him practically weeping when the Angelic Parfait was brought out, sniffling how the two of you should elope because he doesn’t have the money for a wedding reception, hell let alone the ceremony itself. This man–however flawed and perverse he was–deserved so much, and nothing brought you as much fulfillment as seeing him smile.

Still, as nice as it was to watch Gintoki partake in his treats, you happily delved into your array of sweets, like the long strawberry and cream bun you just took a bite out of.

“Aah, this one’s so good!” You moaned, savoring the sweet taste of the berries and cool, fluffy texture of the cream. The pastry was artfully crafted, and truly it was a shame to have to ruin its delicious display. But with a flavor like this, there was no way you would ever be able to resist for long. Happily, you licked your lips from any excess cream that remained from your first bite of your bun.

…whereas the cream from Gintoki’s was shot out and landed right on a few other treats due to him suddenly squeezing it with intense force.

“Gintoki, so messy~” You let out a giggle, genuinely unaware of what your innocent actions just caused.

While your lover wanted to make a rebuttal, he just thanked Steel Ball Run Jesus that he didn’t make a mess elsewhere on his personage.

Needless to say, once the two of you finished your date, Gintoki was walking rather…stiffly on the way back to Otose’s Snack House.

Times like these made him thankful that his yukata draped loosely, especially around his crotch. Though, it was difficult to not remain hard while he thought back to you licking your lips, or how you enjoyed his playful threat of fucking your mouth. He wanted to laugh at himself. As he himself admitted, he was a man of simple pleasures after all–and there was absolutely nothing else in the world that could satisfy him as much as you.

But honestly, even with a night spent tasting and trying out the finest of desserts that Edo had to offer, it quickly dawned on him that there was something he had yet to have his fill of.

“I’m hungry.”

He blurted out those words while the two of you were standing in the middle of the Yorozuya’s main living area. The whole office was quiet–no muffled idol music, no snores that could echo endlessly throughout time–and Kagura’s and Shinpachi’s shoes weren’t to be found at the genkan, meaning the two of you were alone.

You immediately faced him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly in genuine astonishment, the latter of which all that he could focus on and long for. “You’re still hungry? Even with all the buns you were stuffing your face with?”

Gintoki didn’t say anything in response, but rather, showed it by seizing your hips and drawing you towards him. While you were first met by the familiar outline of his erect cock pressing against your front, you felt him then immediately grab your ass, his firm squeezes eliciting startled gasps out of you.

His head leaned forward, lips dropping by your ear as he huffed, his voice husky, “Why wouldn’t I be when you’ve been holding out on the best buns from me?”

Under different circumstances, you would’ve smacked him for such a cheesy line, but you were instead left weak in the knees as your boyfriend continued to grope you relentlessly, feeling his lecherous desire for you with every touch. His lips sought out yours, kissing you hungrily. You could feel the heat of his tongue probe into your mouth while he ground his erection against your front. He kept you in place, refusing to let you go until he had his fill, which, by that time, you were left in a daze, panting and flushed in the cheeks.

Before you could say anything in response to what just occurred, you were instead scooped up into his arms. Looking at his face, you could see the sultry smirk plastered on his lips as he chuckled lowly.

“Now it’s my turn to treat you~”

And then he carried you to the bedroom.

If your date was anything to go by, he surely was hungry by the way he tore and ripped your clothes apart like they were the fancy cupcake wrappers and ornate pastry liners from earlier. Though he had no shame with stuffing his face with all the sweets, he still maintained his manners–save for talking with his mouth full.

However, such composure was out of the question once he had his face planted between your thighs.

You were left to writhe and squeal while lying upon the futon, your fingers woven through his already messy perm as his tongue caressed your core in long yet quick strokes. His hands gripped your thighs securely, keeping you from moving around too much, therefore interrupting his meal. Pleasurable as this all was, it was when he would lift his half-lidded gaze to meet yours that made you want to tug on his hair even more.

His stare arrogant sultry, he had the tip of his tongue circling delicately around your clit, keeping this up until you were whimpering and begging for more.

Of course, when asked so nicely, he was eager to oblige, licking and kissing until your back arched and your lips cried out breathlessly. He never understood why some considered him to be a sadist.

This night was yours after all. Hence why he was preparing to spoil you further as he situated himself between your legs with his hard, aching cock in hand.

He admired the scarlet blush on your cheeks, a sense of pride coursing through him knowing that such a sight was caused by him, that you felt so good to be looking this way.

“Gintoki, you…glutton,” you teased amidst your shallow breaths, your lips fixed in a grin. “How can you just…keep going?”

Feigning ignorance, he shrugged, despite the smirk on his face, “I don’t know–how do you keep tempting me so easily?“

"Didn’t you call yourself a man of simple pleasure earlier?” You queried just as you took in an anticipatory breath. The head of his cock was nudged against the entrance of your slick core.

Eager for the warmth that would soon envelope him, Gintoki chuckled, even as he could feel his mouth water from feeling your wetness. “Heh, true. I guess I’m just overwhelmed, knowing that I’m treated to luxury every single day…!” His cock sheathed inside you fully with one thrust, his name uttered from your lips in one moan.

Heaven.

Positioned above you, covering–no, caging you with his body, his mouth sought out and captured your lips for a kiss. Feeling your legs slink around his bare waist, he grinned, taking that as invitation to grab onto your hips and start pounding away at your core. His cock pushing in and out smoothly yet with the ferociousness of his desire for you, your heat squeezing around him while serving as the perfect fit for his girth.

Could there truly be anything better than this?

Then again, feeling your fingers weave through his hair again, hearing you moan against his mouth, the sound muffled by his kiss–so delicate, so pure–it made him want to fuck you over and over, to do whatever it took to have you remain his.

His bedroom was full of noise, amidst the sigh and groans of names and him relentlessly hammering his cock inside you, in addition to the obscene slapping noise of his sweat-slicked hips meeting yours, his balls right against your ass. If Kagura or Shinpachi were to come home, what was transpiring between you both would be blatant.

Though this would be a good, relevant time to use the excuse of spontaneous mochi pounding in the bedroom.

A silly metaphor, but one that made him grin wickedly, urging and coaxing him to ravage you even further.

One could never be too lenient when a decadent dessert called for vigorous preparation, after all.

By now however, the two of you were far beyond the beginning step, soon reduced to clinging to one another tightly, bodies quivering, hips bucking and rolling against each other. Your names were uttered to one another through a kiss. In return to the heat that your slickness offered him, he–in return–poured the warmth of his seed in thick, messy spurts.

At last, Gintoki rolled off of you, landing by your side with a heave of a breath, his arm resting over his head. He glanced over at you, watching your chest rise and fall while waiting for your heart rate to settle.

Smiling affectionately, he moved to his side, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, your name spoked in a hum. “Thanks for the treat.”

Breathless as you were, the loving look in your eyes reflected his identically. Just as content, you giggled, “Anytime, Gintoki. I’d love to go back there with you again, really.”

He let out a noise of amusement, propping his arm up on his elbow, his head resting on his palm. “Oh, I didn’t mean that.”

You always looked so cute when you were confused. “Hm? Then–”

Gintoki’s grin was nothing short of perversion. “I meant the creampie. Give me another serving, would ya?”

You grabbed the pillow from beneath and prepared to smack his face. He only blocked your attempt with ease, tossing it away before he kissed you longingly once more. Even with your taste on his tongue, he knew that he would always be craving for you.