#weird ! maybe i knew subconciously. ........................ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c0smoshit · 1 year ago

Note

Hun, I just saw your post about my request being posted earlier! Don't worry about it! Take all the time you need and I want you to enjoy it as much as you can! I know you'll do amazing, and it'll be worth the wait! I am so sorry Tymblr has been a bitch

Blue eyes ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕝𝕠𝕥 ≫ Cloud's been having some horrific dreams lately

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!, fluff too, traumas, nightmares, slight harrasment from a drunk guy, visions, voices, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ Sorry for the inactivity and tumblr being a bitch :(( But anyways, enjoy this mess 🫶😭

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 4.462

« Red »

The colour his mind pictured when he started hearing things, seeing them. His head spinned and hurt, closing his eyes tightly while strange voices filled his mind.

He didn't know where they came from or why they did it, but he was so tired of them.

At first it didn't happen really often, it all started when he stepped on that polluted city. It caused him such a weird and sad feeling, Midgar, the city that was supposed to be such an advance in technology, bringing fresh and huge mako reactors to create those little colorful pearls everyone seemed to want.

But it was all bullshit, they were destroying the planet, milking every mako drop out of it. It got to a point were people couldn't even see the daylight from the slums, greeted by hours and hours of darkness and emptiness.

His mind often circled around how lifeless the faces of the people were, matched with the depressing sight of the metallic buildings and playgrounds. The only natural light that beamed through the endless sandy paths were the children, bringing honest giggles and big jovial grins to the world.

How would it feel to be a kid again?

Nostalgia rested deep inside him, he mourned those years, when it all felt right and real.

Long walks along the little village with his mother, longer ones in the mountains by the back of his house.

Breathe clean air, sleeping with the sound of the air hitting the slope of the mountains with persistence.

His mother caressing his hair as he told her not to ruffle it up

"Learning" how to be a SOLDIER by himself.

He reminisces about his loneliness too, he constantly looked foward to what Tifa's friends were up to.

Although he didn't really fit with anyone on Nibelheim besides Tifa, he was happy and he had dreams. Dreams that were soon sliced by a huge Masamune.

No matter how hard his subconciousness, driven by the silhouette of SOLDIERS and Sephiroth, tried to tell him that those kids were inferior to him, they seemed to be so joyful and honestly happy.

And he just... was there.

Those were the happiest years he had ever looked back on, and now they just remained as memories.

But time appeared to exacerbate those imminent dark nights.

People would frequently put him as a companionless guy, one of many who enjoyed the silent strides of their own feet. And he was, he loved being alone, not with his mind.

He had become accustomed to being alone, he always had been a solitary person and that's all he knew.

His mind roved around his past, his memories, and he often found himself trying to decipher if they were real or just some images that this new voice had placed deeply inside his psyche.

Maybe that was the reason he actually likes spending time with the group, not really the fact that he got to be with them but the comfort of the voices being subdued by them. Even if it just lasted some hours.

Midgar had a dark aura around it that he only seemed to discern. And it got worse and worse, scarlet painted memories of the ones he couldn't protect.

He was tired, tired of it all.

Tired of fighting only to be compensated with grief and regret.

Tired of taking care of everyone, as cruel as it sounded.

Tired of seeing him everywhere, even on the safety of your arms.

The man, if he even deserved that name, who took his life away savagely, his dreams and his trust for him. The day he remembers the most, yet so vaguely, a chaos of blurred ( burnt ) out images inside his messed up brain.

The years had taken away decades of sanity that should still remain inside him.

And hundreds of hours of sleep too.

His body sometimes walked itself out of his makeshift appartment Tifa had lent him, governed by the need of "fresh" air. Nonetheless they were just mere excuses for the fear he felt, knowing that he had to sleep that night with his own thoughts.

He saw you once, streets painted with the caliginosity of the moon, you looked calm as you feet dragged you through the solid metal walls.

He pondered about going and talk to you, but he opted to just watch you fade away into the dead of night. Kind of creepy, he thought, but he didn't want to disturb your peace.

But the metal clank of his comically large sword, resting heavily on his back almost exposed him. Two confused glowing orbs looked around, trying to decipher what they just heard. However they eventually calmed themselves down and continued their enigmatic pace.

He let out a sigh of relief he wasn't aware was holding, lowering the rapid gloved hand that tried to stop the movement of his sword from the handle.

Before he decided that he should leave you alone, something sparkled inside him, something was wrong.

He resumed his steps and before he even had a chance to think, some strange man approached you. Maybe you had a boyfriend he didn't know about?

That option was quickly discarded as your face scrunched up in disgust for a brief moment before you smiled at the man, telling him something. Something he didn't seem really excited about as he slurred some words out of his mouth while closing the distance between the both of you.

His forbearance soon emptied itself, he couldn't bear seeing you like this for another minute. He was aware you knew how to manage yourself in fights and this wouldn't be the first time your shin ended on some guy's crotch.

But everytime something like this occurs, you try to be as polite as you posibly can, not wanting the situation to escalate to a higher problem. Muttering some

"I'm fine thank you"

Your hands crossed in front of your chest, tugging tightly your own shirt as you tried to walk away. But the weird guy got even closer to you, smiling as if he was proud of winning a medal, trying to cage you into the wall.

"Aww cmon, I just wanna have some fun tonight"

His disgusting drunken reek filled your poor nostrils, god why couldn't he just walk away or something?

"You don't want to have some fun?"

You were forced to stop dead on your tracks as his hand launched itself, hitting the wall besides you, ending up at your eye level.

"Hey-"

Your eyes widened in horror as he came closer to your face, whispering something into your ear that your mind couldn't process, as the only thing that popped up instead was the image of your fist fitting so good into his cheekbone.

The hand that grabbed your waist was your last straw, but before you could land a decent blow into the man's face something stopped you. Well, rather someone.

Some signature light blonde locks followed by a stoic and quite angry expression appeared behind the guy, his thin lips parted, words fell out of them full of irritation.

"Mind your own bussiness, freak"

A scoff was heard but it was soon replaced by a leather sound, the yank of someone's jacket followed by the loud sound of a body hitting the ground.

The man quickly got himself up, dusting off his clothes and when he was ready to make some comments about the appearance of the one who had taken him down, he decided to shut his mouth as his eyes travelled to the weapon he was wearing.

That and his intimidating appearance, the moon casting it's light into his back so his face was dark enough not to reveal his features, but not his piercing mako eyes.

Eyes that stared down at him with the most disgusting look he had ever seen on anyone's face before.

And in spite of the fact that Cloud wasn't that intimidating like Barret could be, his actions made his whole facade darker. He wasn't a tall and beefy guy, but he was strong.

Just by one movement of his sword he could slice a motorbike in half, his dexterity with blades was what made him feared.

And yet he was also good in close battles, clear agility as he moved through both the battlefield and the hits that were thrown at him. That and his quick thinking and last minute dodges he offered too.

The man had already vanished into the rumbling engines that worked overnight, fused with the quiet chatter of the souls who worked late. You sighed out in harmony with his grip softening on the handle of his sword once again.

You had so many questions that needed to be answered right now, the louder one asking how come he was here tonight?

The night ended with him taking you back home, telling you that you should be more careful, gaining a frow of your brows and you saying something about how you could protect yourself.

And he knew that, he had seen you fight with him, taking down enemies that he was too slow to see. But he still wanted to take a look after you, make sure nobody harmed you in any ways.

He wanted to be there the way you were there for him.

« Blue »

The way his visions were tinted like, navy blue mixed with some undertones of green.

They were the worst part of all this madness he was enduring.

They caused him headaches and the feeling of disorientation, and he absolutely despised being lost. He didn't even know who he was or why he was here, his mind was the worst puzzle he had to ever go through.

However, that wasn't the darkest thing about it.

The visions felt so real, vivid images flashing through his mind like a high speed train, travelling through all his senses and flooding them.

He could see everything and no matter how hard he tried to squeeze his eyes shut, his own brain forced them open.

He could hear the cries and wailings for mercy, sometimes for help, his help.

He could touch, but everything was so far away yet so close to him.

He could taste the bitter-sweet savour of guilt.

The rancid smell of sadness.

The only sound that brought comfort to him, as it being a signal that he was still alive, ceased it's rythmic pumping. A looming mist spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body, fueling his nerves.

He could sense that they either were years appart from his timeline or mere minutes away.

But the conclusions all ended up in the same alleyway, they were going to happen.

Something deep inside whispered into his pierced ear that he couldn't do anything about them, that they weren't just some visions inside his head.

And they frightened him, watching from an imaginary seat how his friends died, how the planet was destroyed, his face.

As a result from this, his head became a cage that no matter how hard he tried to break the iron bars with his naked hands, he was too weak to do so. He just wanted liberty.

That cage multiplied at least ten times the feeling of claustrophobia the aura of the city gave him.

"No!"

A heartrending cry ringed painfully through his ears, loud enough to make them feel as if they were about to bleed.

His eyes were closed but he didn't want them open either way, the ground felt cold even with his boots on.

"Please don't"

The agonizing voice didn't die down like he was waiting for, instead it increased it's volume, almost as if it wanted for him to look up and see what was going on.

And eventually, he did.

His eyes searched for the voice ( for you ), eyes falling on the hand that was clutching for dear life a metal structure.

He recognized the place right away, the lukewarm temperature envolving the gears and his body, the mustiness that filled up his nose. He was inside a reactor.

Faint lights gloomed upon his clothes as his feet dragged him through the grilles, his back felt empty. He didn't have the soothing weight of his weapon, feeling vulnerable to whoever wanted to fight him.

"Please, Cloud"

That did it for him, it was unmistakably you.

Your sweet and sometimes monotone tone was gone, blatantly swapped with a much more startled and uneasy one. Your hands were the only thing visible for him to see right now, the image of your body suspended in the air already present inside his brain.

He didn't know why but a memory of your hand touching his flooded his mind, he liked the softness of them, he wished he didn't had gloves on.

The more intense your cries became, the more he wanted to scream back at you, tell you that he was there, that you were going to be fine.

But nothing came out of his mouth

He kneeled down in front of you, finally able to see your face. But he didn't like the way you were sweating, how your eyes widened in horror as you looked back at him. He wanted to see your features soften, to hear your laugh, your voice telling him not to overwork himself.

The abyss consumed him, what seemed like miles and miles of hollowness and darkness bellow you.

Your left hand slipped off the edge with a yelp, you were slowly sinking down and he wasn't going to let you do so. His hand grabbed the one that was still gripping the platform, clutching it tightly.

He wouldn't let you slip off that easily.

Your quivering voice was the only sound that could deafen the roar of the engines around the both of you. Although you were visibly sweating, your hand felt cold under the thin layer of his black gloves.

An invisible rock attached to your feet by a thick rope made you feel heavier than before, gradually dragging you lower and lower from his grasp.

He couldn't even let out grunts or sighs out of his mouth, he wanted to tell you to hold on, just a bit more and you were going to be safe with him once again.

He tried to lift you up, but you didn't budge. His body tensed up and he was becoming more and more impatient.

By the time your hand finally gave up on him, he was laying face down on the ground, his feet stopping him from falling down with you.

"I'm sorry"

A tear slipped from your tired eyes, your body dissapearing into the void with the saddest smile he had ever seen on your face. He didn't want to ever see that expression again, he wanted you to smile brightly, not fade out lights with it.

And why were you apologizing? He should be the one to do so, he was unable to save you. You should be here with him now, enveloping your loving arms around him while you thanked him.

He felt his heart being crushed down, he wouldn't be able to feel you pat his shoulder in a reassuring way whenever he had to fight someone again, your hands dusting off his clothes after a long mission.

He wanted to cry, to scream, to kill someone.

But his mouth was sealed shut, his hands trembled but no tears seemed to stain his cheeks. His heart pumped harshly inside his chest and as if someone were tugging his hair, his head hurt.

And when he closed his eyes, they were opened again.

But he wasn't met with cramped, massive iron walls around him, he was met with his unfurnished blank wall.

Thank god, he thought.

His sheet was between his legs and the floor, a cotton waterfall on the side rail of the bed. His shirt was ridden up above his belly button, the moon was still up in the sky staring at him with a motionless facade. And he could've sworn it was mocking him.

He had sat up abruptly, letting out a screech he wanted to let out for a while now, reverberating from his chest and into the small room. He tried to calm his breathing, his hands clutched the matress bellow him.

His hair was messier than it usually was, he stared at the closed window and into the incessant lightless sky.

For the first time in his life he was pleased to see those streets again.

That took place about week ago and of course he didn't tell anyone. He didn't want to pile more stress and worry on the shoulders of the group.

On the outside, his demeanour didn't change a bit. Well, not for the ones who didn't know him.

His subtle tiredness and grumpiness was cristal clear for you to notice. His patience died down sooner than before and his irascibility when he was fighting someone was what exposed him.

And if his answers were dry and short they basically were nonexistent now.

But he had a thick skull and no matter how many times you asked him—

"Is everything alright?"

His head turned around to see you, a confused frown rested on his face. Had he done anything weird?

—he didn't seem to answer you.

He then shook his head and his hand, silently telling you that he was fine. But you stopped yourself before asking him a second time, you didn't want to be a nuisance either way.

You were walking next to him a few meters away from the group in front of you. They walked back to Seventh heaven, but you purposedly abandoned your talk to walk with Cloud instead.

And he didn't seem bothered by it, he appreciated the way you cared about him, but he couldn't tell you what was happening, not now.

He didn't dare to look at you, he knew if he did so, flashes of his prior dreams would engulf his mind.

Sooner or later he did, throbbing guilt crossed painfully his mind when he did so. He saw blue in your eyes.

An ocean emerged in front of his eyes, submerging your face and then your clothes, coalesced with a big meadow of beatiful grown grass that enveloped your features.

He could've found this view incredibly magestic if it wasn't for the fact that he knew what was about to happen.

He didn't- He couldn't take it anymore.

His skull appeared to be thicker inside his skin, crushing down his brain. His hands swiftly made contact with his forehead, eyes closed shut and avoiding to see anything.

Whispers and sometimes yells echoed through the dim alleyway, his knees bucking as he supported himself on the wall.

His eyes achingly opened up again, his hands grasped something that was too soft to be a stone wall, he saw your face.

"Please don't- Please don't go"

"to the reactor..."

Your soft voice with some hints of sleepiness reached his eardrums, was he dreaming?

A question he found himself asking a lot lately, not knowing how to discern between reality and a vision or a dream.

He hesitated to open his eyes once again, his headache had dissapeared but his eyelids felt heavier than before.

When was before?

He saw your face, but you weren't staring at him back. Subsequently your hands stroked his hair tenderly, a touch he would love to die for.

You were humming softly, his mother did that a lot when she was cleaning him up and tucking him before sleep.

He wanted to admire your beauty for just a little while, the moon stared at him once again, but this time he was the one who laughed at it.

Your soft skin, your hair released from the confines of your hair tie, your lips, your eyelashes that batted so cutely whenever you saw an animal, your nose.

You were from another dimension.

And he melted right away after you noticed that he was awake, your smile being the first thing that came into his vision. The loss of warmth on his blonde locks made him a bit mad.

That was when he noticed where he was laying on, your legs. Blood rushed to his cheeks, creating a slight blush on his pale skin. But he shrugged his thoughts fast enough for you not to notice his weakness.

He wished that whenever he had a nightmare or a crude vision your thighs would be there to craddle his head.

He didn't know why he was here but he didn't want to hear the answer too, he was more than happy to be there either way.

He knew he could speak right now, but he didn't have anything to say. Your hand falling down into his cheek followed with a kind look on your lips was what kept him silent.

And the words that fell from them were the only reason he was still fighting Shinra, fighting with you, for you, to hear them again and again.

He didn't demand poetic phrases for him to melt on spot, just by hearing the most simple reassuring worss fall from your lips was more than enough for him.

"I'm here for you "

He spent the rest of the night curled up like a ball on top of your legs, hearing your honeyed words deliciously filling his ears repeatedly.

He wouldn't tell you why he had passed out on top of you, why had he pushed you to the wall in front of the group as he anxiously warned you.

And he ceirtantly wouldn't tell you about how his dream of you walking alone in an alleyway was the reason his body walked itself out of his appartment.

The softness of your skin wasn't there anymore it was replaced by your cozy pillow, but it wasn't enough for him.

Dawn's first light entered through your closed window, hitting his face. He had slept without any worries for the first time in weeks, drowned in your touch.

He wanted to thank you, he only had spent a night with you and you had managed to clear his mind from any racing thoughts. His head craved for your touch, his arms and his hands too.

He looked down and he saw his usual clothes, but now they smelled like you.

But you weren't there, he looked around and he took advatange of the quiet dawn to see your room. It was the same size as his own one, but it was definitely prettier than his.

Clean sheets deliciously wrapped around his body that fell down onto his legs when he sat up on the bed, your bed. Cute posters and images about some cats, family and friends laying around on your desk or hanging on the wall.

He rubbed his somnolent eyes before getting off the bed with a swift move, laying on his feet. He noticed that they were lighter than before and when he looked down, he wasn't wearing his boots anymore. You had taken the time to take them off before getting him inside your bed, a small smile formed on his lips at the thought.

His head pekeed through your door as he opened it as quietly as he could, it was still pretty early so he didn't want to wake you up if you were still around.

Without the huge piece of metal behind his back he was pretty quiet, so he used that on his advantage.

His feet guided him until he reached what seemed to be like your living room, it was the same like your bedroom. It was a copy of his own one but much cozier.

But he didn't have time to look around like he did with your room, you were a much more pleasant sight to see. He walked silently until he was right next to your sleeping form.

The first thing that crossed his mind was how gorgerous you were like this, comfy and relaxed under the spell of sleepiness. Your rythmic slow-paced breaths, they reminded him of the sea.

However, he immediately felt bad for stealing your bed, he noticed the way you were curled up on the small couch, your back was probably going to kill you when you woke up.

So without any second thought, his left hand wrapped itself bellow your knees while his right one simultaneously enveloped your back. He gently lifted you up in his arms, your head lolling to the side until it met his shoulder, your temple resting next to his chest.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he sometimes daydreamed about carrying you like this, how would it feel. Your sweet "thank you"'s echoed inside his head when he lifted your harmed form after a cruel battle, your arms hugging his neck.

A few minutes passed and he thanked his hard training for being able to hold you like this for a long while.

Your body shivered, right, you didn't seem to have a spare blanket other than the one in your bed. So he pressed his body closer to yours, trying to warm you up.

He knows he's already called you pretty and gorgerous over ten times now, but god, he needed to remark it. And right now you looked as cute as those cats you seemed to love, unconciously hiding your face on his chest with a long sigh.

He marched back into your room and he noticed that his buster sword was resting on the right wall of the living room, next to his boots.

The more he noticed those little details, the more he wanted to hold you close to him.

But when he finally reached your room after an agonizing ( purposely ) slow pace, it was time for you to properly rest.

So he placed you on top of your mattress, heart fluttering when he saw your little stretch on the bed. He enveloped your body with your blanket, mimicking your pleasured smile when he did so.

If only time could stop right now

He closed the curtains so the light didn't disturb your well deserved sleep like it did to him and then he sat down next to your bed.

Thankful for having a cure for his illnesses.

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yuukei-yikes · 1 year ago

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WAIT i was the vacation dream kanoshin anon but i just remembered an actual one i thought of myself not my subconcious but i somehow forgot about it-

in my delusions a route similar to the novel route is what gives us str (not mekakucity actors shh- canon isn't real if it's from mca), meaning Kano has his weird ass traumadumping session with ene and whatnot and ends up having to spill the beans to the rest of the dan INCLUDING shintaro not just shintaro casually vanishing-

anyways so this ends up with the same vibe as novel-route kano and shintaro which is like. i mean. kano literally describes shintaro as looking at him the same way he looked at ayano and that kano "can't win against him" like. 🤨

Yada yada everything w/ clearing eyes, similar fight to mca ish ( i like the idea of marry draining her friends of their life to save their lives it's interesting to me-) and wahoo ayano. hi. she exists now (with ofc haruka and hiyori too-) and obviously everyone's like HOLY SHIT. especially the mekutrio. and ESPECIALLY kano.

Like I imagine Kano has a much harder time wrapping his head around the fact Ayano's back since while the other two just saw her death as suicide, he knew what caused it / all the clearing eyes stuff so he couldn't really accept her death and move on, while the others (obviously heartbroken over it though) were able to accept it and grow, yea?

Well we get those feelings of "holy shit my sister is alive" but also mixed with these feelings of "oh fuck. i (very unfortunately) might have a thing for my sister's crush." and IMMEDITELY backs the fuck off from both of them. He doesn't ignore ayano obviously but he doesn't seek her out, and he just actively avoids shintaro. ayano's concerned but meanwhile shintaro's just kinda like. what the fuck did i do to you???

Anyways dunno how that gets resolved i never thought past just the idea that kano can barely handle these two facts alone (ayano is alive now and he might maybe like shintaro a little bit (ew)) but together? Fuck. He is Not thinking on that he is backing Way the fuck up. Nope. Not his circus not his monkeys (he is actually just the entire circus).

Anyways long story short when Ayano comes back and everything is resolved kano's unresolved grief over her death but also the budding crush he's developing on shintaro hit him with the force of a truck (haha) and he does Not know how to handle that so he just Doesn't

DUDE. YOU AND I. SAME BRAIN. LIKE THIS IS SO SPECTACULARLY ALL MY SAME FEELINGS RIGHT FROM DELUSIONALLY IMAGINING NOVEL ROUTE WITH A GOOD END AS MY IDEAL ROUTE AND MARY TAKING THE SNAKES HERSELF AND ALMOST KILLING EVERYONE AND KANO LIKING SHINTARO AND BEING SO FREAKED OUT HE BACKS OUT LEAVING SHINTARO CONFUSED BECAUSE HE THOUGHT THEY HAD WORKED EVERYTHING OUT IN THAT CONVO WHERE KANO COMES CLEAN TO KIDO AND HIM(AND TAKANE HERE TOO) sorry for yelling. i just get excited when i get same brain with someone. like exactly. EXAAAACTLY.

but for ayano i think kano is super close with her and he's constantly trying to go back the same relationship they had where ayano relied so heavily on him, especially bc kano wants to distract himself FROM himself so he wants to focus on how she's doing but ayano isn't gonna do what she did. she realised just how messed up it was putting kano through all that and she feels so responsible. ayano and kano are on this weird YOU CAN COUNT ON ME. NO U CAN COUNT ON ME. NO NOT ME COUNTING ON YOU, YOU COUNTING ON ME!!! constantly... imagine kano sitting through ayano go on and on about shintaro bc ayano can see kano wants her to rely on him so she's like well it doesnt hurt anyone if i just talk abt my crush. like its a thing she can stand talking abt and from her perspective kano will be satisfied just hearing her talk about anything she doesnt talk to anyone else. and kano sits through it like 😁😁😁(wants to explode into a million pieces)

also god the bit u mentioned abt kano saying shintaro smiled at him like how he used to smile at ayano. sorry like allow me to attach the whole thing because

☝️☝️☝️⁉️⁉️⁉️like what the fuck is this. WHAT WAS JIN THINKING WHEN HE WROTE THIS LIKE THIS IS SOOOO. homo. kano is so insanely homosexual for shintaro in the seventh novel like there are several examples it's amazing. anyways the "he's invincible" line i am particularly obsessed with and it's why i always insist kano has this weird thing where he's constantly trying to have the upper hand with shintaro while shintaro unknowingly and effortlessly outsmarts him just by being himself.

kano's feelings for shintaro are so complicated and full of resentment and he always wanted shintaro to be entirely horrible just to justify how he feels, but shintaro keeps proving he's a good person and kano keeps being unable to deny not only that but also that he LIKES him and even admires him. and it drives him so crazy.

meanwhile shintaro's feelings for kano are complicated bc 1. wtf does he hate me or not. 2. augh he's a guy im not gay. 3. my girlfriend(?)'s brother. like shintaro hating kano's guts back is funny but it's not the move like it's not true. shintaro wants nothing more than to get along with kano!!! everyone gets on shintaro's nerves and kano gets on everyone's nerves, so bc of this i understand the common misconception of shintaro hating kano back.

anyways shintaro is so clueless bc he thought they were ok?? they talked it out so it's fine?? he can't ever figure out kano's inconsistent behaviour. he decides that it's probably bc he's protective of ayano but he knows that's not all of it.

ugh ugh ugh. KANOSHIN FIRST KISS WHERE SHINTARO'S LIKE genuinely sad and confused and finally confronts kano like seriously what's the matter?? i thought we were cool already?? and kano's super dismissive like whaaa nothing omg of course we're best friends❤️ but shintaro isn't letting it go and kano is getting rly fed up bc his patience is SO short when it comes to shintaro which also pisses him off like why is he making me feel so out of my element like the best i do is LIE why does he drive me SO CRAZY. and then shintaro's like i just wanna know what can i do to make things ok!!!!! and its so genuine and he is just so earnest and pathetic looking kano kisses him impulsively.

anyways. kanoshin.

#ask tag #kanoshin #headcanons #kagenalysis

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fabricated-misslieness · 2 years ago

Text

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 Chapter 11: Bygone Memories

Hero Kaeya x Villain male reader

Summary: What you do in your teenage years shapes what will happen later on in life. This notion was true for you especially.

Word Count: 14,470

Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of violence, a cut, kissing, suggestiveness, death, death sentence,

Mayb’s notes: Germany's drinking age is 16, so Mondstadt's shall be too. I got over 10 images so I had to resort to using "<✦>" sometimes.

12 years ago...

Everyone in Mondstadt knew Master Crepus's sons, the Ragnvindr boys, and though the same thing cannot be said the other way around, it certainly felt like it.

The Ragnvindrs were charmers, as if trained to be so. Kaeya was most charismatic, having convinced half an entire market to buy him sweets at the ripe age of ten.

They were also quite skillful, with Diluc becoming the youngest Captain amongst the Knights of Favonius and Kaeya, having joined the year prior, surely following in his footsteps.

Together in a crowded plaza, they stood out effortlessly. Oftentimes it led to staring.

You'd always been raised with 'staring is rude' but when everyone else is also staring, it was fine, right? Plus, this was... subconcious. You hadn't meant to stare, really.

Although, what were they doing that was so special? They were walking—walking, like normal people, like you had been just moments before. Then, you could argue that everything they did was special, because the Ragnvindrs were special.

Anyway, they'd never notice the staring. They were having a conversation on the go.

Seems you were wrong about that.

As the conversation lulled for a moment, Kaeya allowed his gaze to drift off. There were many people in the plaza. It was hardly easy to avoid eye contact, especially when everyone was staring at you. Kaeya was used to it, had been used to it for ages. Each time his eye met another's accidentally, he gave a short, respectful nod and continue on; because that's how he was, respectful.

But for you... he held your gaze.

You look away from him, as if discovered, and hear him snicker towards your vague direction. This was embarrasing.

"What is it?" Diluc asks.

"Oh, nothing, brother." He replies.

He had caught your gaze a couple more times after that, whenever you passed by each other. Mondstadt was a big city, but somehow you always found each other. This was something he hadn't noticed before. In a crowd, each face was new, a passing stranger going about their way. You, though, he recognized each time.

Kaeya stood by his brother's side as he recited a written, assigned speech. In every other segment of the city, another Captain was reciting the very same speech. A festival, which one wasn't important, was coming along.

In the crowd of citizens, all who recognized him but he didn't, citizens who paid uninterrupted attention to Diluc, he saw you.

For the first time, he had noticed you first. Finally, now that you weren't staring either, he got to see you, to analyze you. You were mighty interesting to him.

And then another first. You caught his gaze.

Kaeya clears his throat, though you may not hear it, and turns back to surverying the rest of the crowd. A warmth rises to his cheeks. He felt... embarrased.

After that, it wasn't just he who caught your gaze, but you who caught his as well.

You had always been easy to spot amongst a crowd. Kaeya, too, for his dark blue hair, eyepatch, Knight of Favonius patch or armor.

But, when he was alone, it was a little harder; because sometimes he was trying not to be spotted.

"Yuck! That is– eugh, that is weird." You stuck out your tongue, at which your friends laughed.

Today was your sixteenth birthday. After the blowing of the candles and cutting of the cake, the adults had left you and your friends alone for what was the most important part of a sixteen year old (in Mondstadt)'s life: liquor tasting.

You had just drank your first beer. "The foam is disgusting."

"I don't think you're supposed to be drinking the foam." One of your friends remarks.

"You're wrong, actually." Another one says, their head propped up against their hand. "My dad says it's the good part."

"How would you know if he's right?!"

You were, amongst your friends, the oldest one and the first to turn sixteen. It almost seemed as though the rest only yearned to be sixteen for the drinking. "I don't want to inherit the bar if all the alcohol is this bad."

"You know, I heard Diluc say the same thing."

"Ragnvindr?" You snicker, "Isn't he set to inherit the winery, too? How awful would that be? Someone who dislikes alcohol running the liquor industry."

"The foam looks good to me..." Another friend says randomly.

"No it doesn't."

"Oh come on, it's got to be good!"

Your friends begin to bicker (in a theoretic manner), which you don't partake in despite being the only one who's drank enough of it to have an opinion. Oftentimes you liked to watch them instead of join in; because, oftentimes, your friends were quite entertaining.

Then, in the background, you spot him. He was watching.

Perhaps he let you find him. He himself didn't quite know and when you began to walk towards him, taking advantage of your distracted friends, he didn't have the time to think about it.

You muster up all the courage you had from the high of your sixteenth birthday and finally, after so long, greeted him. "Hey."

"Hello." He replied simply. "I'm–"

"I know you! You're Kaeya Ragnvindr... right?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Alberich, too."

"Right, yeah." You bite your lip and resist the urge to smack yourself on the forehead, "Of course, uh, everyone knows you." Before he can ease your worries, you continue, "I'm–"

"I know your name too, (y/n)."

"Ah, right, your dad and mine are competitors. Angel's Share and all?"

"No, no. It's not that. I'm not in a habit of scouting out my father's competition." He waves his hand dismissively, "I heard them sing your name earlier."

"Oh. Right," Yeah, that made sense. "you're– you're not here to spy on me—us."

"Happy birthday, by the way." He grins, and you notice that it's... the prettiest thing you've seen.

You nod, hoping the admiration doesn't show on your face. "Thanks."

Silence follows for a while, Kaeya's grin dissipates and your gaze falls to the ground. You don't know what to say, you don't have much to say at all. Except, 'Why are you here?' but you figured that was a little rude. Leaving him alone would be rude too. So...

"You know, I've noticed your staring–"

He cuts you off to mention, "And I've noticed yours."

You fight the shame from lighting up your face, "I was just wondering, do you want to um, hang out with me?" That sounded too intimate. "And my friends too!" Good save, idiot.

"Sure." He replies before the doubts can devour your mind.

"Good! Uh, we can share a beer or some–?"

"I'm not sixteen yet."

"You're not?" You blurt out without thinking. "I mean, with the knight stuff and all... I expected you to be older."

He chuckles, "Well, Diluc was named Captain a year ago, and he was fourteen. I think being a fifteen year old knight is just fine."

"Wow."

As time passed, you discovered that there was actually a lot you had in common. Whereas when you first met, you didn't have much to talk about (whether for awkwardness or the not knowing), nowadays you had a whole lot to discuss.

Out of all things to talk about, Kaeya was fond of talking to you about the knights. After all, you were one of his only friends outside the Knights of Favonius.

Diluc and Jean were his best friends, and they were both sticklers for the rules. Kaeya wasn't, at least not to a tee. He enjoyed finding loop holes and, when his and the knights' morality did not meet, breaking them entirely. When he got in trouble for it, Jean and Diluc scolded him.

When he talked to you about it, though, you were often on his side. He was glad for it.

After knightly duties each day, he hung out with you in the evening; although that meant it'd be too late for the walk home. Kaeya didn't like it, walking home after tiring work, especially because the Ragnvindr home was so far away from the city. If only his family was like Jean's; the Gunnhildrs lived in the heart of the city.

So he asked Crepus if he could stay with you at times, and he allowed him. Except, in almost no time, 'at times' turned it to 'many nights at a time'.

"He was just a kid. Probably seven, no older than nine, he didn't know any better." Kaeya sighs. "His father got fined."

"Just for a lollipop?"

"You bet."

You try to not let the thought of it put you down, instead thinking of something else. "Didn't you once convince half the market for a bunch of sweets?"

"Ooh, yeah, I did." He laughs, remembering it. "Well, that's the difference. I convinced them, didn't take it outright."

"Tell me more about it. That happened before I came to Mondstadt. I've only heard about it, and well, it's probably all hyperbole, no story by now."

Kaeya resists the urge to ask about your 'coming to Mondstadt' to answer your question first. "Well... I was a kid. Kids love sweets a lot. And, since I ask my father and he gives me sweets, so long as I haven't had many, I figured that the adults always had sweets ready to hand out."

You snicker, "Really?"

"Yeah." He laughs, "I really did. So I asked one merchant. My father had dealings with him often, so he knew me well. He didn't have any sweets on him, much to my surprise, but he handed me mora."

"No way! Mora? Straight mora?"

"Yeah. Who gives a child mora? I was a charming child, so I was told, so I assume that must be why. Anyway, many merchants didn't have any candy on them. Those that did, like the street food stalls, handed me some after I argued," He begins in a high-pitched voice, terrible impression of a child, "I haven't had any, I promise!' or 'You don't have to give them to any other kids. They would come crawling back like– like a pack of strays. I'm not like that!"

"Did you seriously compare kids to strays?"

"Yes–er, no, not directly. At least I hope." Though, he didn't doubt it. Kids could be viciously frank. "People only say half the market because there's a candy store in the center of the market, the one by Angel's Share, and by the time I'd come to it I had over a handful of mora. I spent it all on that stall."

"I mean, did you at least share with Diluc? That's like, your redeeming point."

"Yeah, and it was my downfall." He puts on the face of a sour kid, which makes you laugh. "He snitched on me."

"Damn. So much for being brothers."

"Right?!" He exclaims, even if he didn't hold a grudge for it anymore.

You laugh even harder at that. He takes advantage of the distraction to admire you, if for a moment, before you're coming down from the breathless laughter and his curiosities dig at him.

"What did you mean by 'before I came to Mondstadt'?"

Immediately, your face turns serious and the evidence of laughter disappears, even in the corners of your eyes. He feels like he's done something wrong, like he's overstepped your boundaries, but you respond before he can apologize. "I, uh, wasn't born in Mondstadt. I moved here five years ago and yet... I don't know why."

"Where were you raised then?" He can't help but ask.

"Um, I think a village built on land not quite claimed by either Sumeru or Mondstadt... I remember my childhood clearly, or as clear as possible, but I don't remember much from the year before I moved." You scratch your neck, trying to remember, but just like always, you can't.

"Something kind of similar happened to me too. My memories really only go down until I was like seven, and by then I had already been adopted by the Ragnvindrs."

"You were adopted?"

"The resemblance isn't exactly uncanny."

You shrug, "Yeah, but I figured I never met Mrs. Ragnvindr."

"There isn't one."

"Oh."

He brushes it off like nothing, "Anyway, I hardly remember what my father looks like, but I do remember a specific few words, the last thing he told me: You'll be safe with them." Kaeya looks down at his hands, which were fidgeting subconsciously.

Silence fills the room. Conversation goes empty, much like both your missing memories.

"So we're similar, then." You speak up. Curiously, he looks back up and catches your gaze. "Two people not quite from Mondstadt."

Kaeya laughs at both that and what he's about to say, "And with apparently shit memory."

"Like fate brought us together!" You grin.

Getting to know Kaeya meant getting to know his friends too, the other half of the famous Ragnvindr boys, Diluc, and Jean Gunnhildr.

You'd gotten about a minute into talking to Diluc until he started seeming uncomfortable, so you turned to Jean instead, hoping you didn't mess up already. Jean had taken notice of it and assured you that you were fine and definitely not on Diluc's 'avoid list'. He merely disliked small talk.

But what kind of talk were you suppose to talk if not small talk? You'd just met the guy. And, considering the fact that you and him seemed to disagree on things like Knights of Favonius morals, it was the only talk you'd be able to go through.

Maybe he'll form a better opinion of you by overhearing your conversation with Jean. It goes much the same like Diluc's: introductions, names and the like.

Then, she says, "Kaeya talks a lot about you."

You spare him a glance and see him trying to sneak away from you discreetly, "Does he now?" Though you're no fool and notice he's joking. If he really wanted to leave in secret, he'd be able to do it much more efficiently.

You see him take a deep breath before turning, wide grin on his face. "Guilty."

You roll your eyes at him, something else the observant Jean also notices. "You must be close." She remarks.

This prompts you to actually think of your relationship, and yeah, you are close. It's no guess or assumption either. "We are."

Kaeya notices the smile that acompanies those words.

Meeting your friend's friends tends to be awkward, so instead of trying to come up with conversations on your own, everyone tries to talk about something based off of the environment.

There's the merchants and their prices, Crepus's menu vs. your father's, liquor (somehow, with Diluc and Jean not being the biggest fans), dogs and cats, favorite foods, until eventually you'd somehow ended up on the topic of knighthood and protection. Did knights protect the city or the citizens?

After some debate, the answer had come down to the citizens, something both the Ragnvindrs had easily chosen. It was something they were compassionate about, protecting the people. However, Jean had argued that the knights also protected the city. There was no debating whether or not the citizens were protected by the knights, so that answer came easy. Then it came to whether it was both or just the citizens.

You posed the question, "If something came to destroy the city, only its buildings, would you protect it or evacuate the citizens and build anew?"

That really narrowed it down to the citizens. The city had a rich history, if it were to be destroyed, many important libraries and intricately built churches would have to come down with it. However, what had become clear was that the people were what really made up Mondstadt.

"Good question." Diluc says.

"Thank you."

"You know, you'd make a good knight." Jean remarks.

Both Kaeya's and your eyebrows shoot up high into your hairlines. "No." Kaeya denies it immediately, "I mean, look at him, he's weaker than a pickle."

"Kaeya, you have boasted about his strength before." Jean points out, not that you'd know.

Kaeya continues to deny, even if his brother can also back up Jean's statement. "I didn't say that. Must've been... someone else. You heard it from someone else, yeah. Must've been from Albert or something."

"Have you ever met Albert, (y/n)?" Diluc asks you.

"No." You reply with a laugh.

He laughs along with you, "Do tell us why he wouldn't be a good knight, dear brother."

Kaeya has nothing to say. He's known, for a long time, that you'd make a good knight. You loved Mondstadt as if you were raised here, even if you weren't. There were so many other reasons that he couldn't deny either.

"You've got nothing?"

He shakes his head with a sigh.

"Then I'll say why he would be a good one." Jean turns to you, "You've got the duty, responsibility, and ambition for it. But most of all, you have a love for the people. Why have we only just met? I'd have recommended you to Varka already!"

"I know why." Diluc speaks up. Being his brother, he knew him best.

Kaeya puts a hand over his mouth to shut him up, but Diluc just bites it. "Ow, Diluc!" He whines, "THE youngest Captain here, folks."

Diluc chooses to ignore him, "He wanted to keep (y/n) all for himself."

"What?" You blurt out.

Kaeya, on the other hand, covers his face in shame.

"Admit it, Kaeya." Diluc laughs, propping his chin up on his hand. "Your big brother knows you best! You can't deny it."

Instead of replying with words, Kaeya replies with actions. He knocks Diluc's elbow off the table, taking his head down with it.

The captain groans, but his pain is soon covered up by anger. "Oh, you little–!"

The Ragnvindr brothers bicker back and forth, leaving you and Jean to watch in amusement. You'd heard of this famous fighting before, but to see it in person was a different thing.

Kaeya was a charmer, but he was also annoying when he wanted to be. He baited his big brother into trying to get at him; then, as he predicted, he'd dodge whatever Diluc threw at him and as the red head recovered, he'd jab back.

"Alright, alright, that's enough you two." Jean stops them, as entertained as she is from their fighting.

Regardless, Diluc doesn't release his deathly grip from Kaeya's ponytail.

"Okay, fine, I admit it." Kaeya finally says, which causes Diluc to let go triumphantly.

"Was that so hard?" Diluc teases, despite being the one with the messy hair and clearly more pain.

"Maybe. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I bet that's something 'big brother' doesn't know, huh?"

Against your best friend's wishes, you'd joined the Knights of Favonius.

But before patrol, and all the boring stuff, came training. And even before that, there was a test that narrowed down your strengths and your weaknesses, what came to you as natural as breathing and what was beyond your inexperienced reach.

Your results had been similar to Kaeya's and, though odd, it meant you were taught by him. He was an exceptional knight, which delegated him the task of training recruits.

That also meant that he was your higher-up, and boy did he love to rub it in your face. He took every chance he had to do so. But, you suppose you should be grateful for this, he also gave you special treatment.

Even so, it didn't mean he'd hold back. There was an odd number of recruits, so when one on one sparring came around, he was your partner.

The amount of times he had his sword at your neck, or somewhere even more delicate, was too great for you to get back at him for. So there's that competition you'll never be able to beat him at.

"Stop trying to dance around me."

"Oh?" You snicker, "Or what?"

"I guess I'll start danncing too!"

Kaeya was fond of dancing around his opponents, it was his preferred fighting style. It didn't require as much work, or so he thought. When his opponent was tired out from all the failed strikes and lunges, he'd retaliate. As it turned out, you liked it too, even though you didn't know it was an entirely different style than the one you were being taught.

Kaeya would've liked to teach you, but this was the basics training and you weren't the only one trying to learn.

"That's it, I'm–"

Kaeya's 'heat of the moment' shout was promptly cut off by the man behind him. He had been so caught up in the sparring that he hadn't noticed the grandmaster himself approach him. "Mr. Ragnvindr?"

Kaeya whips around the entire one-eighty turn in a split second. "Grandmaster Varka!" He greets with a flourished bow, acting innocently to cover up his boisterous shout. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Varka simply laughs, "May I have some space?" He guides Kaeya off to the side with his arm so that he may not cover the recruit behind him; who was, well, you.

"You're (y/n)?" He asks.

"Yes, sir." You answer politely. This was the very grandmaster in front of you. If you weren't intimidated by his title already, his powerful figure would take the cake.

"Recommended by Jean and Diluc."

You press your lips together nervously as he continues.

"I can see why." He clears his throat and turns to Kaeya, "May I take him off your hands?"

"What?" Kaeya blurts out.

"What?" You find yourself doing the same.

<✦>

Grandmaster Varka was a busy man, not that the average citizen seemed to think so. For them, life was hardly, well, hard. There weren't any 'professional' bandits around, treasure hoarders infiltrating the city or danger in general.

For the grandmaster, however, danger was around every corner. The reconnaissance department told him of it every day, and so he appropriately assigned the other departments to take care of it. Then came some minor disputes not worthy of the King or a tribunal that he took upon himself to mediate. And finally came paperwork. Oh, paperwork. The pile was never empty.

At any rate, even he knew the importance of breaks. It was rather unfortunate that these breaks would still be filled with work, or at least that which was related. It never seemed to bother him anyway.

He liked to watch new recruits as they were trained. Each time there was a new group, he loved watching them grow from fledgeling to eagle. But this particular day, in this particular training group, there was a bird amongst the fledgelings, and he was most noticeable.

You.

"You know, for having the grandmaster as a trainer, I thought training would be more fun."

He rolls his eye, "Training is hardly fun."

He had you repeating the same three movements one after another, straight after each other. It was utterly boring; and you knew it, by the end of the day, you would end up sore and stiff as wood.

Granted, he was repeating them with you, like moral support; but it didn't help at all.

To top it off, there was more to his training than training. There was also speeches, lectures, lessons to be learned—what you would do just to crawl back to Kaeya's classes!

"Put your back into it."

"Your lunges are weak."

"Your footwork's all wrong."

"Are you actually trying?"

"What if I'm not?" You huff, leaving your sword arm by your side. Your arm was already swore after all that, then again after all these days, it was sore all the time.

He shakes his head and sighs disappointedly at you, but you don't pick up the work again. "Training is important, and–"

"And I'm not even sure if this is actually training! What progress is there to make?" If it weren't for exhaustion, you'd be throwing your arms up in the air to make a point. "All there is just ha! Hu! Ah!" You repeat the motions he'd taught you, "Rinse and repeat!"

"You don't think it important?" He remains calm, as if laughing at your frustration.

"No." You snap without hesitation.

"Alright then. Spar me."

That catches you off guard, "What?"

"You heard me, recruit. Spar me. That's training, right?" You couldn't disagree with that, and Varka knew that. You'd be too weak for him, he'd win the fight easily, and you'd return to the training he'd set out for you. It was an easy plan.

Varka readies his sword, you ready yours. There is no whistle, no call to signify the start of the spar, just movement.

The grandmaster takes the offense, which inevitably makes you take the defense.

You try, as hard as you can, to turn the tides of the fight; to take the offense and win the fight. But each opportunity you take, Varka parries, counterattacks, and moves on.

He makes it look so easy.

You imitate the way he parries, blocks and deflects. It makes your defense stronger; but you can't win the fight without taking offense.

When you find the final opportunity, your back hits a wall.

Varka takes a lunge which you block, but in a swift movement, the tip of his blade snags under your handguard and twists the hilt out of your grasp.

You can't lose like this.

Magic. It calls your name. After six years, it finally returned to you.

"You see, (y/n)–" Varka blinks, and suddenly, you've got your sword to his neck.

You snicker, "You were saying?"

He blinks again and again, rapidly, as he tries to figure out what just happened. He can't come up with a conclusion on his own, not when he saw the sword begin to fall to the ground just a second ago. "What happened?"

"I called my sword to my hand." You say, simply, drunk on the joy of victory. It was no easy task, using magic after so long, but it came naturally.

"Fascinating." Varka grins. He doesn't let the defeat get to him, he'd felt defeat so many times already in his lifetime. "You– I underestimated you. Yes, yes, you were right. From now on, we train from dawn to dusk."

"What?"

"I'll bring a battle mage. They'll train you on that, and I'll train your swordfighting. I'll teach you everything I know!" He rambles on, a sparkle in his eye.

You got far more than you bargained for.

After those six months of training, you had made yourself a reputation. At first, it was the Knight that Varka trained, then it became Mage Swordsman, and Undefeated.

You had everything that Diluc and Jean expected from you.

But, after so little time, it became clear to the Knights that Kaeya was influencing you. To prevent that, they put the two of you in different departments. Kaeya remained under his dear brother's command while you were put in reconnaissance, under another young Captain, Eula.

Quickly, however, the actual truth came out. You were simply similar, it wasn't Kaeya influencing you. And the switch in departments? It didn't stop the two of you from meeting up with each other, whether during work hours or no.

Speaking of, most Knight meetings were quite honestly boring, and sometimes so was patrol. So when you both knew there was nothing to lose, you would skip your duties.

By the time you were seventeen, you had mastered the way of avoiding the rest of the knights, which was impressive because you'd only spent about a third of your year as a sixteen year old as a knight.

You had to admit, knight work was much harder than you thought, and you sort of understood why Kaeya wanted to keep you far from it. Regardless, the benefits outweighed the exhaustion. Keeping the citizens safe was a wonderful reward. There was no quitting now.

The harder part of skipping was avoiding other knights so that they wouldn't discover you, and like Diluc, snitch on you.

Oftentimes it meant you had to hide in... cramped places.

"For the love of– move the other way!"

"I have no more space!"

"Yes you do! I can clearly see some space right there!"

"No I don—Oh," He chuckles, "I do."

"Then move already!"

"Shh, shh! They're coming this way–"

Silence... Did you also mention you'd gotten extremely good at staying still in uncomfortable positions and holding your breath?

One thing new about today, though, was that the hiding spot was different. It was cramped, yes, and so were many others, but the space was distributed differently. You'd hidden in mostly sort of tube-y spaces that had you alongside each other, not something like this.

"Are they gone?"

"Yeah, I think so."

You turn back to each other with grins, then realize. He notices first, moving his eye the other way as if something was wrong. "What's up, another one coming?"

"No." He replies with a gulp.

"What is it, then?" You notice it now. "Oh."

If either of you so much as moved your head to the side, it'd force the corner of your lips to meet.

"Ahem," You clear your throat, trying to diffuse the awkward... tension and silence. "how about you turn this way and I'll turn that way?"

"Sounds good." He mutters.

"Alright." You don't nod, afraid it'd force something.

You turn towards the inside of the crevice while Kaeya turns the other way and manages to stumble out. You follow suit.

"That was–"

"I'm sorry for suggesting that spot."

"I thought I did?"

"No, I did."

"No, it was definitely me."

"Then I'm sorry for following along." Kaeya presses his lips into a thin line, "I mean, it was a small space. I was a fool to even accept."

"No, no, you can't blame yourself like that. Going along, after I convinced you? You're not the one to blame. I–"

Before you can continue, Kaeya grabs a hold of your collar. Then he brings you forward, towards him, and kisses you. It doesn't take you long to reciprocate—you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking about it.

"Then let's say neither of us is the one to blame." Kaeya says, charming smile on his face. Excitement almost leads it to break out into a grin.

The kiss was short, much too short for your liking. Instead of replying, you cup his cheeks and bring him back to you. Kaeya laughs into the kiss, not even trying to flinch away from shock.

You part from him only for a moment so that you may speak. "If it means we get to kiss then, whew," Kaeya laughs and you, for the love of Favonius, love it. "gladly."

Your parents told you that Kaeya and you were in your honeymoon phase, which was weird because you weren't even married. If it implied something bad, the words 'honeymoon phrase' hardly meant anything to you, anyway. Maybe they would later, but at the moment you couldn't think of anything except him.

It seemed that thinking went both ways.

"Hey." Kaeya greets breathlessly, as if he's been running.

"Kaeya? Hey." You greet with a laugh as you stare him up and down. He's dripping wet from head to toe, hair slick and clothes soaked in water. Clearly, he's not got an umbrella on him. "What are you doing here? It's storming outside!"

"I wanted to see you." He says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"During a thunderstorm? Couldn't have waited 'till it was over?"

"Nuh-uh!" He says childishly. "I mean, what if the rain lasted the entire day? I'd have to wait until tomorrow. Besides," He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it, "I really wanted to kiss you. Still do."

"That badly, huh?" Not that you're complaining.

"Mhm."

Kaeya brings you in close for a kiss, pressing his soaking wet clothes against your dry ones. You were far too into it to really care, though. When you part to let Kaeya further into your home, he bursts out laughing.

With a raised brow, you stare where he's staring, straight at yourself.

Everywhere that Kaeya had pressed against you, along with his arms that had wrapped around your back, was marked by water. "Look at what you've done." You chuckle, "I'm gonna have to change now."

"I'd like to see that."

"Kaeya!"

<✦>

Of course, you couldn't let your boyfriend (Gods, you loved that. Your boyfriend) hang around with wet clothes. He could catch a cold! You didn't want that. Otherwise, you might get sick from kissing him.

When you emerge from your closet in a fresh change of clothes, you catch Kaeya staring down at himself. He pulls the collar of your shirt away from his chest, and you're not sure if he's staring at the clothing or his body. His emotions are indiscernible, which in itself is worriesome.

"Are you alright, darling?"

Kaeya purses his lips, eye darting between you and the clothes, back and forth as if he's deciding something. "Yeah." He says at first. "Just..."

"Are my clothes too big?" You ask, "Too small?"

"No, no, none of that. Just..." He trails off when he begins to explain himself again. His eye settle on the clothing.

Ah.

"Is it cause it's mine?"

Kaeya seemes to shrink in on himself, "No!" He shouts, letting go of the shirt collar and covering his face. If he's trying to deny it, he's doing a terrible job. "Err... yeah." He admits.

You smile smugly, taking advantage of his covered eye to crawl behind him on the bed.

"Well, you are my boyfriend." Kaeya yelps at your sudden proximity and flinches back, straight into your arms as planned. "What better way to show everyone than by having you wear things that are also mine?"

"Oh, for Barbatos's sake..." You hear Kaeya mutter under his breath.

You snicker, wrapping your arms around his midriff and pulling his back against your chest as you sink down against the bed. Kaeya ends up in your embrace, shuffling so he can lay his head next to yours. "You're infuriating, you are." He says.

"Oh, am I?"

He can't help but laugh, "Yes you are."

"Infuriating enough for a kiss?" You ask, leaning closer to him.

"I think that'd mean the opposite but," He stares into your eyes, and admires your face; your lovely, kissable face. "how could I resist?"

He leans in to kiss you.

<✦>

The next day, you both get up early for knight duties. Unfortunately while you were distracted, your parents had taken Kaeya's clothes to be cleaned. Of course, in their eyes, it was an act of service. Little did they know it meant that not only did he have to borrow sleeping clothes from you the day before, but also a Knight's uniform today.

Knights' uniforms were labeled with names so as to not cause confusion, so not only was Kaeya wearing your clothes, he was also technically labeled as yours.

The quartermaster waits by the front door yet again waiting for you. He looked much the same as yesterday, flustered as he stares down at himself.

"Well, well, well. I thought wearing my clothes was enough." You stand at the top of the stairs, smug look on your face he wants to wipe away. "But this? This takes the cake."

"Oh, shut up." Kaeya groans, but even he can't keep the grin off his face. When you make it down to him, he pulls you in for a kiss.

"The quartermaster, labeled as mine." You say triumphantly as you part. "You can keep these, by the way."

Kaeya would be lying if he said his heart didn't flutter.

<✦>

On the eve of Kaeya's seventeenth birthday, you and him had gone on a night out in town, far from both your parents' bars and to the others. Tomorrow was for family celebration: balloons, candles, confetti, and giant hugs. Today was for just the two of you: dim lights, satisfying delights, and a personal blight—even if it meant he'd start his birthday morning sour and hungover.

Spoiling him came easy to you. You had earned plenty from the knight work, which naturally meant that he had too, but the lack of income difference didn't divert your objective of the night.

Speaking of, it had been spent well. The rush of excitement and fun felt like a waterfall, permanently ongoing and always gushing. The cats at the Cat's Tail had begun your evening with serene cuteness, then the drinks fueled the rest of your night.

With bottles to go, you began exploring the city. Living here for over five years, and having the time from skipping work, you had known it almost like the back of your hand; that was, your district of the city. You hadn't explored much of the rest of it.

You had hoped to find a hidden gem, somewhere nice and secluded with a good view of the night sky and an even better lounge.

As luck would have it, your goal was accomplished, and you spent much of the night there basking in each other's presence.

But, like a waterfall, the fun had to fall somewhere.

Although you don't recall when you had changed your name to 'fun'.

"Ah, shit!"

You thought you had mastered what was the physical activity of going down the steps of staircase well enough by the age of three. At the very least well enough to not fall.

You had thought wrong.

You fall on your back, half on the stairs, half on the landing. The edges are rough in places you definitely didn't want. At first, as you were drunk both in love and in liquor, you had laugh the whole ordeal off.

Kaeya came to you quick, a giggle upon his lips. He had pulled you off the floor unceremoniously, then pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "Prince charming to the rescue."

You glance down at your shoes, "Last time I checked, Cinderella lost her shoe."

"Maybe you will, at the end of the night." It almost sounds like he was hoping for it. "There's still another bit of stairs up ahead."

You had laughed at that again, then continued on your journey back home. But, as you take your first unassisted step, you nearly fall over again.

Had the pain in your voice not been so clear so quick, Kaeya would've joked about that coming sooner than he thought.

"You alright, love?" He asks, squatting down beside you and propping your torso up on his lap.

"Mmmf, no–no," You wince, finally feeling the excrutiating pain. "I don't think so."

"Well shit." He says.

The moment had sobered you up. Like a real damsel in distress and his prince charming, Kaeya needed to bring you up like a bride in his arms and take you to the nearest Knight's Headquarters. They'd be the only people awake this time of the night.

So there you were that dawn, far from the last destination of your plan. Whereas you'd planned to be sharing a sweet–whether dessert or kiss–on your balcony back at home, you were here at a foreign Knight of Favonius HQ, being treated by foreign knights on a foreign district.

Not to mention you had indeed lost your shoe, somewhat.

Here you were, one shoe on the good leg, cast on the bad leg, and lost shoe on the floor beside your (foreign) bed.

Worst of all, Kaeya was sent back home. This was not how you wanted to spend your sunrise.

<✦>

The next day, the foreign HQ had sent you back to your home province. However, they had sent you not home to your parents or their bar, but to the district's HQ. The worst part about it was the humiliation that had come from the Knight friends.

That was something you did not wish to remember, and in fact, it was also something you wish you could erase from your memory.

Kaeya's birthday celebration had gone well, or as well as it could've gone with your broken ankle. He had eased you as best he could, stating that the ankle didn't change things and that you were still his boyfriend (which you knew, and the fact he felt the need to say it was offending).

Regardless of the injury, the day was actually one you would cherish in your memories for a long time. But that day was not what led you on this path; it was the weeks following.

Since you had been rendered immobile, you had been assigned the lowly job of assisstant librarian whilst you recovered. The new librarian, Lisa, had to get accomodated to the new books and such that had been added whilst she was gone.

With you being bored, you had chatted with her a lot. She was fond of relaxation and breaks but, at the end of the day, there was still work to do. Mostly book collection. In the absence of a dedicated librarian, many books had been borrowed and never returned. The list had grown long in the years that Lisa was away at the Academia, and she had made up her mind to shorten it.

So finally, you were alone in the library. Lisa had done much of the organizing duties you were both assigned to, so you were left with nothing to do but sit and await her return so you could continue talking.

Though, as she left, she gave you a piece of advice: "Books contain much wisdom, and if it is not that that you are seeking," She pauses with a chuckle, "they can also entertain you."

You decided to take her advice.

Many books with titles or covers that had interested you ended up being lengthy novels. You didn't think you had the time to finish them by the time your ankle was healed. So, regrettably, you left them on the shelf and continued searching.

A lot of books had caught your eye. However, it was not until you had unknowingly wandered into the restricted section that you found a book that you'd commit yourself to.

The Extinct Magics of Teyvat. That was the one.

Lisa was gone for the rest of the afternoon, which meant she wasn't here to scold you and lock the book away somewhere safe.

You had read through the introduction, noticing that it was not a story book and an actual book on learning these 'magics'. So you had decided to put the book away. However, when you found the place you had gotten it from, you realized its true nature. It was a forbidden book. That had piqued your interest even more.

Upon reading past the introdcution, you found the reason why these practices were extinct. They were extremely taboo and clashed with your morality. However, after reading about them, you had discovered their use. Most were far more than useful, they made so many things much better.

Telepathy! It could reveal the master plans of thieves, their patrols and future goals. Sanguimancy could elongate lives.

Necromancy was far from what you thought it was. It wasn't (only) summoning the dead to your malicious command. It was also a healing magic.

This magic could make the world better.

You were going to learn one of these, if not all. You were determined to do so.

Over the weeks as your ankle healed and Lisa left the library, the book had become your teacher. Its techniques became your techniques, its morals seeping into yours.

And, once you had finally healed, you practiced even more. To mask your sudden interest in magic books, you had taken up illusion magic as well. It could be used well on the battlefield and it was the perfect magic for distraction, the perfect mask.

When the mask had been perfected, you were able to take the book (disguised as another) and practice in your spare time, even if it meant it had to be in hiding.

<✦>

"To protect the citizens of Mondstadt," A steel, ceremonious sword engraved with ancient writing meets the top of your head, "under Favonius's watchful eye," your left shoulder, "and with permission from the King," and your right shoulder, "I declare you 'Illusionary Knight'."

Varka had always kept a serious face in these crownings. But, what you'd never notice if you weren't kneeling at his feet, is his subtle smile. He smiles down softly at you, knowing you as the culmination of his teachings.

You smile back up, letting your grin be shown to the world.

<✦>

When you were given the title 'Illusionary Knight', you knew the world would be better for as long as you helped it.

You think your ten year old self would be proud of you.

The little boy had always been good at magic. He had little else to do, as he was new to Mondstadt, terribly shy and had a lot of spare time on his hands. You had always known he had an affinity for magic, but he knew it most. Finally having access to a library and books to learn from, he had borrowed a book from the library, one that another young magic user had recommended.

They were basic spells, but still, they would be hard for beginners. He, however, had not found them hard.

In only a month, he had learnt the summoning of the four basic elements decently. Then, he had learnt the other elements: electo, cryo, and dendro.

But, as he grew older, he needed to help his parents. He was a growing boy, and he needed to grow his sense of responsibility. He had begun to stray away from magic in favor of helping his family grow into Mondstadters.

Then, finally, came the day where he returned the book.

The ten your old you would be glad to have magic back. It was the thing that interested him most. It was his passion.

Only seven years later, it has become your passion again. You were doing him justice.

The first magic you had learned from the book, as well as the first you had perfected, was Necromancy. It was the farthest from what you thought it was, a healing magic, a fighting magic, and always a magic that benefited the world in the right hands.

You thought your hands were the ones fit for the job.

When the regular healers had worked themselves to the bone, burnt out and energyless, a necromancer could take over. When the army needed numbers, one necromancer could work the same as hundreds of men.

Most of all, necromancers needed a sense of responsibility. To be able to give and take away any and all life force, one needed to know a life's value, and well at that. Learning the magic, practicing it to its extents, it gave you that, the right judgement, and much more.

You knew Necromancy was a great magic, but you also knew many people thought otherwise. You couldn't convince an entire kingdom, especially its stubborn king, to think of Necromancy in a different light.

So, you practiced in secret, then executed the magic in secret.

Once the people's faith in you had been secured, you would convince those close to you that Necromancy wasn't what people thought it was. You would show them.

For some reason, you thought everyone would understand.

<✦>

Necromancy was a hard magic to practice. For one, you had to do it in secret. For two, you needed something alive to test it. Most of the magics in the book did, anyway. For the moment, you had only practiced using your own life force. Today you were going to try something new.

You knew you were only going to do good with Necromancy, but it was scary to manipulate another's life force. Not to mention the ethics of it.

Animals would help you, you thought. After practicing on them, you'd treat them to a meal. If they didn't run away.

Phew. Here goes nothing.

"Hey, darling–"

"AH!" You turn quickly, hand forward and fingers splayed, ready to use some kind of spell to knock whoever found you out. You didn't even know such a spell.

"Relax." Kaeya puts his hands up in the air in surrender, "It's just me."

"Oh," You breathe out a sigh of relief, your offensive stance entirely deflating. You sink down to the floor. "good. Barbatos's breath... oof, you gave me a scare."

"Sorry about that." He smiles cheekily. "What were you practicing?" He raises a brow, staring at the bird trapped in a cage. As far as he knew, you didn't own a pet bird.

"Necromancy."

"Ah."

The exchange was simple, as he already knew. He'd helped you with the Amber and book fiasco a week ago.

"And you've chosen a bird to be your test subject?" He grimaces, "Cruel."

He was just joking, you knew that. Regardless, it frightened you deeply. You didn't want to use Necromancy to hurt anybody! He notices your troubled look. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

You stare down with a frown. "Yeah, I know."

"Hey," His hand meets your chin and he uses that to make you look up at him. "If it makes you feel better, you can practice on me."

"What?" You blurt out, flinching away from his hold, "No way."

"I'll understand!" He assures. "That little bird over there? It won't know."

You sigh as you think about it. He was right. Of course he was. But Kaeya? You didn't want to hurt him! You couldn't hurt him. You didn't even know if you had it in you.

"Trust me, darling." He comes closer to you again, slower this time. "I won't mind."

"Gods, Gods." You repeat, "Fuck, okay."

Kaeya grins, hopping in place excitedly. "You can do it, (y/n)."

"Yeah." You nod. He was right. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, remembering everything that you'd learned so far from the book. The healing spells using your own life force and the new lesson on using other's life force. Here goes nothing.

"Wow." He groans, and your eyes immediately snap open, only to see that he was stretching. "I feel," He yawns, "tired. Was that it?"

"Just tired?" You ask.

"Yup. Oh, oh wait, ow..."

"What? What is it?" You perk up, immediately rushing over to his side. "Were you injured already?"

"Yeah, I didn't think anything of it though. I cut myself entering this little bush clearing of yours." He shows you his thumb which has a little cut on it. "Oh." He says, finally seeing the wound again.

Traces of magic wave in the wind above the cut. They're black in color and move like smoke. "Shit! I'm sorry." You move quick to fix your mistakes.

"Nah, it's alright." He assures, giving you the best smile he can muster. He was under a lot of pain that he didn't want you to know about. "I told you to practice on me."

Using the life force you had taken from him, you heal him. The cut on his thumb closes over like nothing, and the skin looks normal. Most importantly, all his pain ceases. "Wow." Kaeya says again. There's a sparkle in his eye. "That was cool."

"Yeah, I think it's pretty cool." You agree, your eyes still on his thumb.

When you stare up at him again, his eye is already on yours. The shock causes you to shy away a bit.

"Aw, c'mere." He beckons, though he doesn't wait for you to do it on your own. Instead, he pulls you into a hug, letting you rest your nose against his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me, love."

"I know I did..." You sigh into his shoulder, "don't hide it from me."

"Alright." He admits, "You did well, though. The spell worked as intended, and you healed me as well."

That, you couldn't deny. "Yeah."

"You're going to do great things."

<✦>

"You remind me of a peacock."

Kaeya snickers, "Do I, now? Out of all animals, a peacock. Silliest name in the animal kingdom."

"Oh, shut up. It's not about the name." But you laugh too. It's a laugh that rumbles out of your chest and Kaeya can feel its vibration as he lays his head on you.

"Then what is it about?" He asks, drawing circles on your arm.

"Peacocks spread their wings to win the girl's heart, yeah? But they're not spread all day, every day, otherwise they'd be too eye-catching and fall prey to predators." He hums in affirmation. "Well you're a charming guy when you need to be."

"Is that how I won your heart? I spread my wings?"

You roll your eyes, "I'm not done yet. You're pretty much resident interrogator when we manage to find a treasure hoarder in the midst of their plan. You're not threatening them or anything like Diluc, you're coercing the information out of them. So basically, you spread your wings."

"So what I said earlier was correct."

"Suppose so.." You grumble. "Anyway, sometimes you try to go at things unnoticed. Like when we're skipping meetings together? You've retracted your wings."

"Still a little weird. I mean," He laughs at what he's about to say, "you can't just go around calling me peacock."

"Who says I was going to? I'm just thinking out loud over here! Although, I could find nicknames that derive off of it. How about, hmm," You hum as you think, "sweet pea?"

"Awfully corny."

"You liked it though."

<✦>

Kaeya hums to himself as he works away. It's a tune you hardly recognize, but it's nice to listen to all the same. You find your thoughts drifting away from the constant snip of scissors and to the melody's possible origins.

It wasn't of Monstadt-make. It didn't sound like anything a tavern bard or Mondstadt's classical musicians had made before.

Then, if it was foreign, where could Kaeya have heard it from? He was too young or low rank for Knight expeditions. Perhaps it came from a traveler, but then why would it stick with him?

Snip.

"Sweet pea?" The nickname had stuck.

"Yeah?"

"What're you humming?"

Sniiip. He pauses in his movements. You sat in front of him as he cut away at your hair, so you couldn't see his expression. Maybe he hadn't even realized he was humming a tune and was busy recalling it, but why had he paused for so long? "Kaeya?"

He clears his throat, "Sorry, um," Snip. "I don't really know. I only know it came from my childhood."

"Ah." No wonder he had stopped so abruptly. "It seems a lullaby."

Kaeya hums it to confirm it himself. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe my mother sung it to me." He trails off with a sigh.

His mother. In every waking moment of his life, Kaeya had never had a mother. He didn't remember his life without the Ragnvindrs, and there was no Mrs. Ragnvindr. No mother figure... except the maids of Dawn Winery.

"What's it like to have a mother?"

"Uhm.." You bite your lip. You'd always had one. The concept wasn't exactly easy to explain. "It's like she knows everything about you, even if you haven't told her. She can sense when you're not feeling your best, and she's always there whenever that's the case. She cares for you deeply. When you're younger, she's there, at your bedside, reading you stories; and when you're growing older, she's explaining growth to you."

"Crepus did a lot of those things." Kaeya notes.

"I suppose Crepus had to juggle both roles... She cuts your hair for you, too."

"Does she?" He laughs. It lightens up the mood.

"Well... there's that. I'm done." He declares, spinning your chair around to face him and handing you a hand mirror. "There goes a year's worth of hair. Why'd you want to grow it, anyway?"

"Wanted to see how long it'd get in a year." You say, staring at the new haircut. "I'm a bit surprised it didn't reach your length."

"This is over ten years of growth, (y/n)." He snickers, "Dunno what you were expecting."

"I mean, at least you gave me a new style." You remark. "I like it."

<✦>

Days out in the market, when work was slow and you were allowed more breaks, were a fun time. Today, though, Kaeya was still working and you weren't. You had to admit it was a bit boring. Every moment without him was dull.

The merchants advertised their wares with calls and shouts, "Fresh bread available!"

"Dessert for your sweet tooths! Everyone's got one!"

Among these, a child shouts as loud as the adults. "New flowers for sale! Limited time only! Flowers from out Mondstadt! Sweet peas, laven–"

Sweet peas?

Without a thought, your feet carried you to the stall. "Flora?"

The kid smiles at you, waving a hand over her flower pots. "That's me, and these are my flora! Refrain from touching, but don't refrain from buying."

You chuckle, "Damn, already in the business, ey?"

"You betcha!" She giggles innocently, a contrast from her next words. "Don't stand still and clog up the line."

You can't disobey the kid's orders, but you knew what you came for anyway. "Could I get a bouquet of sweet peas?"

<✦>

Kaeya was clearly tired. He rested his head against Jean's desk, his head propped up on his arms. He wasn't sleeping, as exhausted as he was. He still had work to do, a fresh pile of paperwork. Was this the life of a captain? Suddenly he wasn't looking forward to being one anymore.

"Are you okay, sweet pea?"

He lifts his head up with a sigh, "As okay as can be. I thought captain work would be more fun but," He gestures towards the desk, which is covered in papers. "clearly not."

"Hm." You hum as you glance over it. "Varka just had to leave, didn't he?"

"And Jean just had to be acting grand master and she just had to choose me to take over her work." He groans, covering his face with his hands nad rubbing at his temples.

"You are the quartermaster."

"I regret accepting." The words come out muffled. Then, he remembers your work day. "How was the break?" He says, somewhat scornfully.

"Productive." You reply cheerfully. It's as if you have a hop in your step.

"Oh yeah? How?" It's only then that Kaeya notices you've got your hands behind your back. "What're you hiding from me?" He asks, suspicion in his tone.

"Oh, nothing." You declare, grin only widening.

"Love, I don't have the time for this." He gives you a pointed look. "The thread of patience I have left is about to snap and you don't want to see what happens."

"Okay, okay." You raise a hand in surrender. The other one stays behind your back but for a moment. The next second, you're brandishing the bouquet of flowers. "I got you these."

For the first time since he was given captain duties, Kaeya smiles. "What are they?"

You hand them over and Kaeya inspects them, but neither of you are really gardeners. "Sweet peas." You say.

He shakes his head with a huffed laugh. "Sweet peas for your sweet pea?"

"Yeah." You affirm as you round the desk. "You callin' yourself mine?"

"I thought we'd established this." He replies, glancing up at you from the flowers. His eye is forming that happy crescents. You feel accomplished.

"Oh, yeah, maybe." You rub your chin, like you had a long wizard beard, as you feign thinking about it. "Think it was in the heat of the moment though. Did it count?"

"Yeah, it did." He reaches forward for you, but you skirt around his touch.

"I mean," You scoff, "really?"

"Look, darling, we're not drinking tea like Jean and Eula do. C'mere." He beckons.

"Truly?" You persist, feigning consideration, humming like you're meditating and rubbing at your chin.

"Fucking hell." Kaeya mutters. He stands from his seat, basically chasing down the small couple of steps there are between you and taking you in his arms. He abandons the flowers at his desk. "Do you have to be so difficult?"

"Yes." You answer cheekily.

He rolls his eye, "You hardly deserve the kiss I'm 'bout to give you."

"Oh, yea–?" You're cut off as he kisses you, like he promised.

A year later, after spending your eighteenth mastering Necromancy and your ninteenth beginning to make the world a better place, disaster struck.

One day, a Fatui hideout near Mondstadt was exposed to the Knights. Along with its location, information of its malicious plans and doings were also spread. The Fatui themselves didn't know that they had been exposed, so the Knights planned to infiltrate the hideout and cease its operations forcefully before anyone could be harmed.

What none of you knew was that the Fatui had let the information of its existence spread deliberately. They were not planning to infiltrate Mondstadt at all.

They waited in ambush.

The knights were outnumbered. What was to be a silent infiltration became a loud, violent bloodshed.

Reinforcement party after reinforcement party was called in. One by one, only some soldiers came back battered and bruised and broken, but still they proclaimed that the fight was not over.

In the end, it was the knights with hard-earned titles that saved the day, though that you would not know.

The latest reinforcement party had been sent. You were to be sent in the next.

All around you, in the makeshift medic's tent, lives were ending. Valiant warriors struggled to not succumb to their end. Those of which had been sent on the mission initially, or at least those that had made it back, could barely keep their eyes open. It was a graveyard.

However, thanks to your Necromancy, you knew who would make it. Even if their life force drained right in front of your eyes, you knew they'd pull through.

So you assured them, you assured each of them that they could rest, that the knights would win and that they'd continue their lives peacefully.

But there were two people that had come back from the battle that concerned you the most. One of them, you knew, was on the brink of death. The other would soon join them.

One of their life forces was draining rapidly... the other had some hope.

Perhaps you could save one of them if you just used your magic.

That's what you should've asked yourself. You should've considered the consequences, thought your predictions out fully. But you weren't thinking.

The least amount of people had to die, and if it meant one instead of an almost impossible two, so be it.

With the wave of your hand, someone drew their last breath and someone else regained theirs.

You were foolish. Oh so foolish.

<✦>

You had been found out, of course. Medics were still working away trying to save them and sorcerers could sense the magical death, especially when it left behind traces of Necromancy.

At the time, you had thought you made the correct decision.

Even as you laid your back against the harsh stone of your so called cot, staring up at the brick ceiling and the sparse overgrowth of your cell, you thought you were in the right.

Even if you barely knew if you'd ever see someone else again.

Varka had visited you first, accompanied by two royal guards. It was as if all his trust for you was gone, as if you'd attack him outright if it weren't for the cuffs around you wrists. He reprimanded you on your choices, berated you on your thoughts. He said you weren't in your right mind. And that book of yours? He'd discovered it.

You thought the grand master had always been fond of you, you knew it. He had always had faith in you and your abilities, believing that you could tackle anything in your path. There was reason he taught you all of that.

While you weren't wrong, his faith and reputation in you had been shattered instantly once he had learned of your wrongdoings.

You had tried to convince him, then, that you had done the right thing. And you had tried again–only then, instead on Necromancy's benefits–the many other times he visited you.

You could sense he believed you in some way, even if he did not show it.

But that would come later. The second man to visit you was the king himself. He was accompanied not only by the same two royal guards Varka was with earlier, but by many more as well; as if he had brought his entire arsenal. His lack of trust in you was evident.

He did a lot of things, a lot of unkingly things; but you've never really considered him a king anyway.

He calls you names, a disappointment to the Knights and your parents, a low life... but more importantly, he orders your execution right in your face.

The days ahead of you were numbered.

In three months time, your head would be severed by guillotine.

And within those months, the wounded knights would recover and new knights would be recruited. The Knights of Favonius would stabilize again.

As for your death? It would be posed as a lesson. Don't be a fool. Don't learn magick.

At first, you couldn't believe it. The king had a history of not following his own word. Most of all, he was a coward. He had never sentenced someone to death before— not personally. He didn't send out these orders on his own. He had someone else, someone more competent like a prison warden, decided the fates of the wrongdoers.

But he showed up to you and practically spat in your face. You had no doubt he was awful. Awful enough to order a death sentence? It was possible.

Should you break out the shiv? Take the fork from your meals and start a tally mark on the wall?

You ponder this as you stare at the ceiling. You ponder a lot of things staring at the ceiling, some other times you stare at the plant sprouting from the barred window at the very top of the wall.

Life finds a way, even in a place of this. A place of your misery.

Maybe you were in the wrong. Maybe that knight had hope after all.

You killed them.

You didn't even know their name, nor the name of the one you saved. You'd never be able to learn it.

Varka visits you for the second time a week into your imprisonment, still with the same two guards. You notice him eyeing them up and realize that he doesn't trust them. The royal guards and the Knights never mixed well.

"You think you were right?"

You scoff, "No greeting?"

"You're lucky I'm not spitting in your face." The grand master says unleadery things too. You've always liked that about him. He was a stickler for the rules indeed, but he also believed that they could be bended if needed. He knew that knighthood wasn't all seriousness either. He knew how to had fun.

"Am I even worthy of your spit?"

He coughs. You can tell he was hiding his laugh in front of the royal guards. "Just answer the question, (y/n)."

"I'm not sure anymore. But you know? I'm not sure of many things anymore. Spend enough time here and you won't know what to think anymore. How long have I been here, anyway?"

"A week." He replies simply. "I'm not getting anywhere with you."

"You're telling me!"

The third time he visits, he visits alone. You have a feeling he pulled some strings to be able to get in here without royal guards. Judging by the sky outside your window, he probably thought to deliberately visit at night as well. Did he sneak in?

"Why did you do it?"

"You woke me up." You say, despite the fact you weren't even sleeping.

"I didn't." He says in a matter of fact way.

"Yeah." You clear your throat, "There were two knights. One was closer to death than the other. I could tell, a kind of Necromancy thing." Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him flinch, as if he was still refusing to believe you were meddling in magicks. "So I saved one of them using the other's life force."

"That wasn't for you to decide." He crosses his arms.

"I know that now, but one death over two? The answer was clear to me."

After a pause–perhaps he was thinking–he says, "I understand. But... are you really a necromancer?"

"Mondstadt's very own."

"My Illusionary Knight..." He mutters under his breath, but you can hear it anyway, "Why–Why Necromancy? Out of all magics you could've learned. Were illusions not enough?"

You tell him everything you know about Necromancy and all it can possibly do. You're sure he only thinks it to be your mad musings. But you try the your best to convince him, to see your way.

"In the right hands, Necromancy can do a lot of things."

"The same thing can be said about everything." He argues, "Sanguimancy, telepathy, everything bad can be good."

He pauses. You hold your breath. "But I'm not sure you're the right one anymore."

He visits regularly. You can tell he's trying to understand. He's trying to believe you. You're just not sure if his attempts are going anywhere.

You try your best to convince him. If necromancy was a religion, you'd be its priest. And if it turned out to be a cult? You'd stay in its church.

You're not sure if you're convincing only him now. You're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself as well.

Finally, Kaeya visits.

Whereas Varka only seemed to be sneaking in by not telling the rest of the Knights about his visits, Kaeya's secretive entirely.

"Hey!" Someone whisper-shouts and it wakes you up.

"What? Kaeya?" You gasp, standing up from your cot faster than lightning. "Holy shit–"

If there weren't bars separating the both of you, you'd have kissed him with the passion of a thousand stars' collision. Hell, if the handcuffs didn't have a magic-canceling ward, you'd have melted the bars and taken him in a needed embrace.

Though you suppose that would make you a fugitive.

The bars were wide enough for both your arms to go through, but a kiss would be pushing it.

"Are you okay?" Kaeya rushes forward, taking your hands in his. "Did they hurt you? Did they do anything to you?" As quick as his hands come to your hands, they come up to your cheeks, turning your head this way and that to see if there was an injury on your face.

"No, no, I'm fine." You assure with huffed laugh, "Just smelly."

"Ooh, yeah, I can tell." He chuckles, but you can tell there is little amusement to it. He was truly concerned, and only you knew what they'd been doing to you down here—nothing.

"Love, I promise," You take one of the hands he had on your cheek and bring it to your lips, claiming it with a kiss. "I'm alright."

Kaeya's eyebrows furrow. He looks you up and down again, examines your worn clothes and unwashed but unblemished, uninjured skin, and comes to the conclusion that you were indeed fine; although he wasn't very convinced. He huffs, "You better be."

"I am! I wouldn't lie to you."

He raises a brow.

"OK. That was one time. But Maxus the cactus is alright now, isn't he?"

"By the very thing that got you here." He reminds you.

"Yeah, you're right." Necromancy had been so normal to you, you'd almost forgotten. "About that..." Concern reappears on his features, and you hate the way it looks on him. "my execution has been ordered."

"Shit. Shit!" He exclaims, pulling away from you and bringing his hands up. "Tell me," He wipes the hairs away from his face, "tell me you're lying."

"Sweet pea–"

"Tell me," He says before you can answer, "that you're poking fun at me."

You answer him with an honest look, knowing words would only convince him that your fate was sealed. It was sealed, in a way, but you–neither of you–wanted to face that fear.

"I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry!" He comes to you, gritted teeth going to open in an outburst any moment now, and takes your hands, guiding them up to his cheeks.

You accept your new job eagerly; rubbing your thumb across his cheekbones to soothe him and making sure his eye is looking into yours so as to ground him into reality.

"You shouldn't be apologizing," He mumbles, "like you're the director for the funeral we wouldn't even be allowed to have. Like you're a fucking coworker who knew how much we meant to each other—because clearly, you don't."

"You mean so much to me."

"That's not it!" His voice breaks in frustration, "You don't know how much you mean to me. You should be asking me if I already have a plan. You should be asking me when you're getting out here, because you know I'm not letting you go off and die."

"And then what, Kaeya? You'll be a criminal."

"If it means we'll both be alive, then I'll take it over not having you! If we have to run from nation to nation, I'll do it. I'll–"

"That's not a way to live."

He ignores you, "If it means we'll be together, I'll renounce my life in Mondstadt."

"My love–"

"I'd do anything for you!"

"Kaeya, that's not the life I want you to have."

"Stop talking like you're fucking dead!" He pulls back from you entirely, jumping from the bars to the wall of the corridor, and finally allowing himself to shout out his anger. He sinks to a crouch against the dirty stone walls. The remains of his pent up emotions slide down his face in the form of tears. The rest of his words come out rushed like a flood. "Because you're not dead, you're here, and we still have a chance."

He's trying his best to keep himself together. You can tell. But he's already failed at that. "How are you so calm?" He hides the lower half of his face in his palm, "You're the one whose head could be severed off."

You don't have an answer for that, but you do know something. You're not as good a person as you'd thought. "I think I was wrong."

You crouch down to meet his line of sight and Kaeya's eye focuses on you once again, "But Necromancy is good in the right hands and–" He starts, but you cut him off.

"And I'm not sure my hands are the right ones anymore."

"No," He shakes his head, "you've already done so many good things with it."

"Varka's a good man, better than I'll better be, he's responsible and he has a sound judgement. He doesn't think I'm–"

"He doesn't know you like I do."

You purse your lips. If he was going to risk it all for you, you had to stop him. All of this was your fault, these were consequences of your decisions. You had to face them on your own. If it meant having to... "Maybe I'm not who you think I am."

"What do you mean?"

"I keep a lot of things secret from you. I kept the knowledge of my Necromancy from you for a year. Hell, I told you about it when I knew you wouldn't think about it deeply enough. You were tired and sleepy, then."

"No," He denies it. "you saw a chance and you took it."

"Sweet pea, I knew that the next morning you would hardly remember enough to criticize."

"No, no, no, no." He repeats. The no's become muffled as he covers his face with his hands. "No. I know you, I know you're a good guy. You're no–"

"Villain?" You ask, head tilted in a mocking way. "My, you are naive."

He looks broken.

You fucking hate this.

Without another word, he stands and leaves.

Kaeya would do anything for you, so you have to do everything you can do for him as well. If it meant lying to him, putting on a facade and acting just like how the nation thought you to be now, a Villain, you would do it; and you'd just done it.

If it meant dragging yourself down just so that he wouldn't follow, so be it.

<✦>

Varka starts his last visit–not that you know–with the words, "Kaeya's been down in the dumps lately."

"Did they announce the execution yet?"

He shakes his head no, "The announcement is supposed to be tomorrow."

"I've no idea then." You reply innocently. You'd been preaching the truth about Necromancy to the grandmaster, you couldn't have your notions befuddled by the words you'd given to Kaeya.

"You do know why." He starts. "For one, you're in love. He missed a meeting a week ago, and I know–"

You never told him. Fuck. You never told him you loved him. "When's the execution?" You interrupt his reasoning.

Varka's lips press into a fine line. "In a week."

"I never told him I loved him." You admit. "A week of my life left and I never told him."

Silence ensues and it allows you to simmer in your regrets. Varka doesn't have the heart to break it as he considers it himself, but suddenly he gets an idea. "I can pass along the message."

"What?"

"That you love him."

"No." You reply immediately.

It's his turn to be confused. "What?" He blurts out, losing all his formality. He had come to terms with his student, the culmination of his teachings, learning magick for some sick righteousness. But this? "Did he do anything? Did you do anything?"

"I did a lot of things." You laugh. He doesn't know how you can laugh right now. "I don't want him to be any sadder when I go."

"Right."

The shock of it—was he really alright with your execution? Was he really alright with losing his best student? He had taught you everything he knew, not just in fighting, but in morals too. And you'd taught him everything you knew about Necromancy, all the good that was packed in with the bad.

Was he really alright with you just leaving the world like this? Your plans to better the world, all thrown in the guillotine just because of one mistake?

He turns on his heel.

"Varka?"

He doesn't give your calls any attention.

"Varka, where are you going?"

He was going to do something about this. You deserved a second chance.

<✦>

The day had finally come. Three months of your life had come and gone and they were both the shortest and longest part of it.

What was the phenomenon?

The moments of your life as you are dying go faster. But, you suppose that'd be the moment right before death. When your head is laid upon the wood of the guillotine and you stare into the box your head will fall into.

Time was certainly a concept that you most definitely can't decypher it in the few hours you have left.

The few hours you have left.

You were going to die soon. You weren't going to be alive anymore. Your existence would be finished after a short nineteen years, and then you'd experience whatever came after.

So why are you so calm? Why aren't you crying? Why aren't you begging the Gods for another chance?

You didn't have the answers to those questions and you suppose it won't matter anymore. You won't be needing answers when you're six feet under, if you even deserved that. If you were to be honest with yourself, they'd probably burn you after separating your head from your body.

Hours turn into minutes, and soon there is a royal guard at your prison door. He's got a deep frown on his features–then again which one of them doesn't?–but also something else in his hands: a bag.

You can't get your hopes up.

"Hey big guy." You greet as enthusiastically as you can. You'd come to terms with your death about a month ago.

He doesn't reply. Instead, he unlocks the door and gestures at you to get out.

"Oh come on, I can't twist your words into incantations. I'm not that advanced at magic, both you and I know you didn't let me get to that point."

Even as you poke and prod at him for him to let go of his silence, he doesn't speak. Not that you have to think about it for long.

He guides you out of the cell and out of the catacombs, or wherever you were kept, with a firm grip on your shoulder. With the big, silent guard at your side, you breathe in your first breath of fresh air and feel the sun's rays on your skin for a final time. What a bonding experience! But even that doesn't get to last long.

Next thing you know, you're shoved in a carriage. It's not the prison cage you were expecting. You were expecting wide, black bars with spaces big enough so that it wasn't hard to throw a tomato in. The people of Mondstadt enjoyed their tomato throwing a lot of the time.

The downside of not having one of those cages was not being able to look outside and see where you were going. Although, the good thing about that was that you wouldn't be able to see a loved one. Otherwise, you might actually start crying.

The carriage stops without warning, a sudden thing that almost sends you from one side of the seating to the other.

"This isn't what I was expecting." You say once you step foot outside.

Perhaps they were rubbing freedom in your face or allowing you a final sight of the nature that Favonius had terraformed before you were taken to the guillotine. This was the southern gate of the city of Mondstadt, after all. This couldn't be your stop.

The driver, another royal guard, smiles. The same silent man beside her steps down from the bench.

"Have you got a guillotine and crowd out there?" You ask.

He doesn't answer, of course. Why were you expecting an answer? Instead... instead, he unlocks your cuffs and takes them off your wrists.

"You're exiled." The driver announces.

"No." You blurt out in disbelief.

The man grunts as if affirming her statement. He hands you the bag he's been steadily holding and, before you can check whatever's packed inside, he pushes you outside the gate. He stays, right in front of it, protectively.

You stand there, right outside the city of Mondstadt, trying to register what's happening, for only Barbatos knows how long.

Were you free?

"Bye." The silent guard finally says. He's trying to nudge you away.

Barbatos's grace!

Back to the present...

What a fucking nightmare. You awaken from your slumber, sitting up and rubbing at your groggy eyes. All of that in one night? Whatever, you'd probably forget later, even if those were memories you could recall at any moment. They were in the past anyway.

That was all over now. Yet... and overwhelming sense of mithenness runs over you. Mondstadt had carried on without you. The disaster that it had suffered through was over eight years ago now! They had recovered from it well.

The city was still the city, flawed as it may be. It was still good and it hardly needed improvement.

You were so naive.

Necromancy comes in handy though. A lot of the time.

"Morning, sweet pea." You greet Kaeya good morning, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

He grumbles "Sweet pea?" as if confused, then turns away from you to catch some more winks. He never really enjoyed mornings, anyway.

"We gotta get up soon." You remind him, standing up from the bed. You groan as you stretch. Sleeping on a bed, after those days traveling and sleeping on the hard ground, felt like bliss.

You glance over at the items you'd scattered over the desk in a tired haze. Your bag had tipped over sometime over the night, spilling some of its contents over the table. Kaeya's bag was still orderly. Hmph, just like him. Then, at the end of the table, sat the horse stall reminder for Nyx and Raph.

The stable boy better let you get a refund for the days you hadn't spent here. The plan hadn't gone as you expected.

A knock comes from the door.

"What is it?" Kaeya calls from your side. So he doesn't care to answer you but he will answer someone else.

"Madame Chamberlain asked me to remind you that you should be exiting the city in under an hour!" A servant calls from behind the door. "She said there will be consequences if you don't!" They yelp, "H-Her orders! N-Not my words, I swear!"

"Alright." Kaeya groans just loud enough for them to hear. He sits up and wipes his eye, then turns to you. "Is that a habit you picked up again?"

You furrow your eyebrows, "Is what?"

"Kiss me on the cheek and call me sweet pea."

"Oh. Did I?" You press your lips into a fine line and try to pretend like you're not embarrased by the idea.

"Yeah." He says, "I remember it clearly."

"Despite being half-asleep?"

"Yup."

You groan, "Maybe it was subconscious."

"Yeah," He laughs, "sure. If that makes you feel better. I mean, if it's subconscious, surely that means something."

He had a point. What did it mean if it was subconscious? You ponder it as you get ready for the day.

Were you previously thinking about it? That, you couldn't answer. There were a lot of bygone thoughts you had forgotten throughout your traveling. You wouldn't doubt it if you had, but you also doubted if you really did have them.

Subconscious; not fully aware. Did your subconscious think you were still in the past? You were just dreaming about it.

Then again, you sleep next to each other each night. Would it really be that bad if you had kissed him?

"Are you still thinking about it?" Kaeya asks, his bag slung around his shoulder.

It snaps you out of your thoughts. "No." You lie without second thought. Not that it was very convincing. Kaeya saw through many lies easily, and yours especially.

"Sure." He says, unconvinced, for a second time that morning.

You elect to ignore the kiss and continue your day.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya x male reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #🌸 // success!#blurred lines #blurred lines series #🎟 // genshin impact #🎫 // kaeya #🎫 // kaeya alberich #🌂 // failure

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gaycrouton · 3 years ago

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Forgotten Inhibition

I’m editing my fanfic masterpost right now, and I just realized I never posted my first ever story to tumblr. I wrote this back in 2017, so blame all errors on past me haha.

drugged scully | 7k | smut

Interstate 84

Nowhere Oregon

9:42 p.m.

Mulder could sense Scully was not too happy about being dragged cross country for a case that ended with more questions than answers. They had been driving in their rented car for about three hours now, and, by her lack of bantering, she was either frustrated or tired.

They had been called out to help the Oregon State police solve a series of unrelated crimes, only connected through their intensity and motive. The incidents ranged from a man walking into his boss's office and destroying everything to a woman murdering her husband. While all cases varied, every guilty individual claimed that they always had always felt impulses to do the acts, but lost all self-control on the day the crime was committed. Those who were around the offenders said that they seemed to be relatively normal, but they were saying things that they would usually never say. As if they were injected with truth serum and that they developed a one track mind, for lack of a better analysis.

Scully felt that these were ultimately unrelated crimes done by people blaming a cosmic force for their own actions. But Mulder could not shake off the fact that all these people said the exact same thing, even though they had never met. The biggest roadblock to Mulder's theory was that he couldn't figure out how this disregard to inhibition happened to the individuals. They were varying in ages, towns, gender; there was nothing out of the ordinary or similar about the individuals daily routine on the day that the crimes happened.

Mulder had the idea that maybe the disregard to inhibition didn't necessarily always lead to crimes. All of the individuals admitted that what they did was something they had always imagined doing; their biggest fantasy. However, they all said they remember their actions that day, but they felt like a passenger in their own body. They had no control over their actions or words, as if their subconcious took over. Mulder had a feeling that there were people out there who had a similar thing happen, but since it didn't result in a crime per se, they didn't come forward. Say if someone's biggest fantasy was bathing in applesauce for example, that is weird, it is out of the ordinary, but someone most likely wouldn't go out of the way to say they felt compelled to do so. So there is no way to gauge how many people had been impacted by this force.

When Mulder decided to pitch his theory to the lead Sheriff on the case, Sheriff Campbell, that is when all progress came to a halt. Mulder and Scully were both used to adverse reactions to their findings, but the Sheriff took it to a whole new level. He thought that they were making a mockery out of the situation, asked them how they were suggesting to pursue such an outrageous claim, and promptly kicked them off the case.

As the Sheriff was filing the paperwork to relinquish them from the case Scully tried to make light of the situation and said, "If only he knew this was one of your more normal theories."

As disappointed as Mulder was to have to give up the case, the Sheriff was equally as disappointed to see Scully go, having been a little overly fond of her through the entire investigation, much to both agents' chagrin.

When they were getting in the car to leave, he had followed them out and leaned a hand against Scully's door, preventing her from opening it. "Now, Miss Scully, I want you to know if you ever find yourself in Oregon again, you are more than welcome to come and visit. We would love to have you," he leered, his eyes raking up and down her body.

Scully tried not to laugh at the set of Mulder's jaw and squinting eyes, which made him look like a pouting child, and turned to face the offending man, "Dr. Scully, and I appreciate the offer Sheriff Campbell," she stated with stern politeness.

He held up a finger, signalling to wait, before he ran to his car to retrieve something. Scully shot Mulder and irritated glance before looking back at the man now approaching her.

He held out, what appeared to be, a sixteen ounce bottle of a strange green liquid. At Scully's raised eyebrow he explained, "I remember you saying how much you liked green tea. I own a local herbal shop that's popular around these parts and it's customary to give tea as a parting gift," he smiled as she accepted the bottle. He quickly turned to Mulder's expectant face and deadpanned, "I only have one bottle." Scully thanked him once more before opening the door with enough force to knock away the sheriff's hand.

Now they had been on the road trying to get closer to the airport they were set to fly out of. The city they had spend the past week in was in the middle of the forest, so trying to find an airport that would fly them all the way back to D.C. proved to be a challenge.

Feeling uncomfortable with the silence, Mulder decided to apologize, "I'm sorry this was a waste of our time, Scully."

She turned to him with a slight look of shock on her face, an apology from Mulder wasn't necessarily rare, but it was never given because of something out of his control. "It's not your fault Mulder. You didn't get a chance to qualify your theory. If it is true, then this isn't the most malicious case we have had to leave behind," she took a pause trying to figure out how to phrase her explanation. She didn't necessarily believe it, but she didn't want him dwelling on something that wasn't his fault. "Yes, a few ended with tragedies, but if what you think is correct, then only a small percentage of the cases were negative. Maybe this outside force lowering inhibitions benefitted some people, we won't know, but at least it isn't a sole murderer out on the town. You investigated as thoroughly as you could, and if Sheriff Campbell doesn't want to hear your point of view then it's his loss," she rambled a bit embarrassed.

Her speech caused Mulder to grin a little. It was so rare she indulged him in his theories, she must be trying to spare his feelings. Seeing her stumble to find words to do so warmed his heart. He looked over and she was playing with the bottle cap to her half-finished tea, trying to look casual, but he could tell she was a little flustered at her declaration.

"Thank you Scully, I was just a little nervous that you were upset with me since you've been so quiet," he explained honestly.

"No, no, not at all," she replied, " I just have a headache and want to sleep it off."

Mulder caught a glimpse of the road sign passing by and predicted if they stopped now, but left around seven in the morning, they would get to the flight with plenty of time to spare. "We aren't that far away from the airport. We can stop at the next motel and just leave in the morning," he offered, feeling warm at the appreciative smile she gave him.

Motel 88

Troutdale, Oregon

10:12 p.m.

The motel was as mediocre as usual, but it had two open rooms with an adjoining door, so they couldn't complain. They went to their separate rooms, but Mulder, ever the natural worrier, wanted to make sure Scully was okay before turning in for the night.

He stopped before the adjoining door and rapped his knuckles on it lightly. When he entered, Scully was standing near the thermostat, fiddling with it lightly. "Need help?" he offered.

"No, thank you though, I think I got it. It's just really hot in my room. What's up?" she asked, turning towards him.

Mulder personally felt like the rooms were both cold, but didn't think it was worth mentioning. Seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, he decided to let her be, "I just wanted to come in and ask if your head was feeling any better."

Scully felt a warmth spread over her at his thoughtfulness. He was always so conscious about making sure she was happy and healthy, his dedication to her well-being was her favorite thing about him. Without saying it, he proved his love to her everyday. She raked up and down his lean runner's body resting casually against the room's chair. Okay, his dedication was only one of her favorite things about him.

She smiled at him and he couldn't help but send a thanks to the god he didn't believe in. A Scully smile was rare and he'd gotten two within the hour. " Yeah, I actually think it's subsided. I'm just tired."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. If you miss me, just call for me," he joked, making his way towards the door.

"Wait," she mumbled shyly.

His heart leapt a little at her tone of voice, thinking she was about to say something flirty back and tease him. He turned to throw a sly comment her way, but it immediately died on his lips at the sight in front of him. Scully was standing in the middle of the room wobbling on unsteady feet.

"Act-tually, M-Muhlder, I d-n't feel so goo-," she stuttered, hands flailing lightly at her side trying to right her rapidly depleting balance. She saw the look of worry wash over his face when he turned around, but she couldn't understand the words he was saying. Her mind was working a mile a minute self-diagnosing herself, but her mouth wouldn't cooperate. Within seconds, she could feel her whole body start tingling and becoming heavy.

Mulder saw her falling backwards and immediately rushed to her side, easing her to the ground lightly as her head lolled from shoulder to shoulder. Her glazed, wild eyes locked on his before rolling to the back of her head, effectively going limp in his arms.

He could barely hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest as he frantically tried to tap on her cheek to rouse her. She had been fine less than thirty seconds ago. No slurred speech, no stumbling, nothing that could have hinted something was wrong.

He felt a shiver run down his spine as a familiar thought invaded him. The cancer is back. No matter how many months passed since she went into remission, the fear and worry, that plagued him for months, always resided in the back of his mind. Trying to ignore his nerves, he placed a gently finger under her chin to give him a better angle to evaluate her face.

There was no sign of a bloody nose.

He exhaled in temporary relief before checking out the rest of her. Her pulse was slightly higher than normal, but not enough to be significant. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but no excessive perspiration. Nothing clued him in on what could have caused this.

I'm usually the one who gets sick. Scully's the Doctor, I'm useless at this.

Trying to shake off the futile irritation at his non-existent medical skills, he hooked one arm under the back of Scully's knees and placed the other one across her back and under her arm, effectively picking her up bridal-style. She felt like a rag doll in his arms.

Taking the few steps across the room, he gently laid her on top of the motel's cheap bedspread. He couldn't help but notice how tiny she appeared, her head no where near the headboard and her feet far away from the edge of the bed. Her resilience and intensity made him forget what a petite, lithe woman she is.

For a few moments he stood over her trying to decide what his next move should be. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly as he got his cell phone out of his pocket. I'd rather face her wrath and call an ambulance than have this possibly get worse. He had only heard the phone ring once before he felt a hand grab firmly at his belt near his hip bone. He looked down and saw Scully, fully alert and gazing straight at him. He ended the call and kneeled down beside the bed.

"Scully, you scared the shit out of me," he exhaled, giving her a concerned smile. He saw Scully smirk coyly at his words, not releasing her grip.

"I'm sorry," she said behind heavy lashes.

Even though she was awake and alert now, Mulder's worry wasn't subsiding. There was something off, but he couldn't put a finger on exactly what it was.

"Scully, what the hell just happened? You were fine one second and the next you were slurring and collapsing," he questioned, brushing stray hairs behind her ears. He was slightly stunned when she leaned into his touch, brushing her soft cheek against his fingers.

"Maybe I just wanted you to sweep me off my feet," she cooed sweetly. Pressing his palm against her cheek and gazing into his stunned eyes.

What the fuck?

Mulder's concern now was back in full force. While he and Scully bantered on occasion, and if it was a great day, sometimes even flirted, his usually reserved partner never was this blunt. He was worried that she hit her head on something without him noticing, or something worse, and knew he needed to check her again.

Ignoring her prior comment, he put his hands on her shoulders as a prompt, "Scully, I need you to sit up for me, okay?" She smirked at him and started to comply, but instead of sitting up straight, her head and arms splayed out on his shoulders. A shiver went down Mulder's spine when he felt her breath tickle his neck.

Not knowing what to really do, he gently pushed her shoulders back and got a good look at her. Her normally sky-blue eyes were heavily dilated to the point of looking black and they also looked hooded and glazed over. Her skin looked red and flushed. He was worried that if this was a fever that she was roasting herself in her no-nonsense suit. Trying to finish his impromptu exam, he took her dainty wrist in her hand and took her pulse. It took longer than normal, due to the fact Scully kept idly stroking his forearm and distracting him. Her pulse was still a little higher than normal, and now that he was so close, he noticed her breathing was labored. He may have not gone to med school, but he was pretty sure he could recognize a fever when he saw one.

He stood up and noticed Scully's eyes were trained on him. Becoming self-conscious under her gaze, he decided to try and make her as comfortable as possible.

"Scully, I think you have a fever. That suit probably isn't helping your cause, so while you change, I'm going to wet some washcloths with cold water to help. I'll just be in the bathroom, as soon as you're ready for me holler," he proclaimed in a hurry. He darted into the bathroom without giving her a chance to respond and shut the door behind him.

As soon as he was hidden from her gaze, he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He reached a hand down to the front of his pants to confirm his suspicions; he had been getting hard. He glared at his own reflection in the mirror with irritation. She is sick and you're getting turned on. He felt guilty, but seeing her so flustered and touchy was definitely getting to him. The cancer time was different, she never was delirious like she was now. Now that he really thought about it, he had never really seen her lose her control. Never drunk, never sick like this, and honestly, thank god. If this was any indication, he could barely handle it.

It only took a minute to soak the washcloths and put them in the ice bowl for convenience. As soon as he was done, she called out "I'm ready for you Mulder!" He couldn't help but smirk at how in sync they always were.

When he opened the door, any humor he was feeling was replaced with heart palpitations. Scully was splayed on the middle of the bed, in nothing but her underwear, looking straight at him.

All attempts he made in the bathroom to calm his erection were for nothing because it was now back with a vengeance. He remained in the doorway completely shocked. His eyes darted in a quick sweep, noting her black, matching, lacy bra and panties. Her breasts rising and falling with each labored breath, restricted by the cruelly-sheer fabric. Her legs wantonly spread open, one ankle on either side of the bed. He quickly swerved around to both respect her modesty and shield the tent he just pitched in his pants.

Trying to find his voice, he stuttered out, "Sc-Scully, I told you to get me when you were changed."

"Nooo, you said when I was ready for you. I'm ready," she challenged. He could hear the smile in her voice.

It suddenly dawned on him that maybe she was having trouble and that's why she called out. "Scully, did you need help?" he prompted.

There was a slight pause before she responded, "Yeah." There was still something in her voice he couldn't quite place.

He set the bowl of towels down on the desk by the door before asking over his shoulder, " Where are your pyjamas?"

"Over there," she cheekily responded. She was forcing him to have to look back at her.

He turned and saw she had shifted positions. She was now sitting on her calves, which were tuck under her, grinning as she pointed to her suitcase beside the bed.

Eager to look away, he followed her finger and started trifling through the bag. He hastily pulled out a pair of navy blue satin pyjamas he knew he had seen her wear before.

Trying to put on a brave face, he turned to her and motioned for her to scoot to the end of the bed. He laid the top down next to her and bent down on one knee, stretching out the elastic waistband so she could slip her feet in. He decided to break the silence that had fallen over them by asking about her condition, "Are you dizzy?"

Instead of putting her feet in the offered clothing, she ran a bare foot up and down his side, causing him to quickly intake his breath. "No, not in particular."

He glanced up at her and saw she was, yet again, leering at him. He was grateful he was wearing jeans since it would be less noticeable, but he could feel his heartbeat in his erection right now and he didn't want her to get mad at him for it.

He didn't want to do anything to make her uncomfortable since she was sick, even if she was possibly flirting with him, it was probably just the fever. Mulder wanted to end this before it got embarrassing so he grabbed her ankles one by one and put them in the pants before sliding them up her creamy, smooth legs. Stop ogling her Mulder.

Even though he was pulling the waistband as taut as possible, he couldn't avoid touching her when she refused to cooperate getting the pants above her hips. With an exasperated sigh, he looped one arm around her back, lifting her off the bed, as the other hand yanked up her shorts.

While he was congratulating himself on accomplishing half of this journey, he noticed she looped her arms around his neck and was keeping his chest flush with her scantily clad breasts.

"Scully?" he squeaked, embarrassed at how his voice was coming out.

Her mouth went torturously to his ear and she whispered, "I don't sleep in a bra Mulder. Are you going to help me with that?" she teased.

As his eyes widened at her words, he caught sight of an empty bottle on her nightstand and a realization struck him.

"Scully?" he prompted, all prior embarrassment temporarily leaving, "Did you drink all of that tea?" he asked.

He felt her nod against his shoulder, "Yeah, but now I want to drink something else," she purred, placing her lips on his neck.

It took every ounce of willpower to pry her off, but he took her upper arms in his hands and forced her to look at him. "Scully, when did you drink it?"

She rolled her eyes, but complied with his interrogation, "I drank a little bit on the car ride, before we started talking, and then I finished the rest of the bottle a couple minutes before you came in," she responded lazily, running her calf up his inner thigh.

He wasn't even focused on her ministrations, instead applying this new knowledge to the case in his mind. Consumption. That's how the lack of inhibition is passed. That tea that the Sheriff gave Scully was what was carrying whatever it is that does this to people. And that's why we were kicked off the case! My assumptions were right and, since the Sheriff was behind it, he didn't want us figuring any more out. He said the town was notorious for their herb shop, so anyone getting this tea was effected. He probably thought lowering inhibitions would help people do what they've always wanted to do, he just didn't realize some of the town people's dreams were so violent.

He was snapped out of his train of thought when Scully, who unbeknownst to him unwrapped her arms from his neck and snaked them down his body, cupped his erection through his pants. He sucked in a quick breath between gritted teeth when he felt his heart stop. This isn't a fever, she's aroused. She isn't delirious, she is flirting with me on purpose. Scully's biggest fantasy... is to have sex with me.

For once in his life, Fox Mulder was stunned into complete and utter silence. He had been in love with her for years, but he had accepted it would forever be unrequited. Now he was in Scully's hotel room, while she was drugged, and her revealed subconscious was announcing that she wanted to have sex with him. He was pulled out of his reverie when he felt her trying to undo his belt and fly.

He quickly reached down and grabbed her wrists, earning him a frustrated whine. "Scully, that tea had something in it. I think you've been drugged like the rest of the people," he tried to explain.

"You mean the tea was what made people act on their subconscious "fantasies" as you called it?" She asked, he thought she appeared to be taking this seriously.

He took her response as a good sign, "Yes. That would make sense then of why the Sheriff made us stop pursuing it any further, he was the one making and distributing the tea."

She nodded, taking in the information before that insidious smile crept back on her mouth, "So are you saying that my biggest fantasy is you fucking me?"

His prior excitement at figuring the case out was outshined by her intense gaze and he was, yet again, at a loss for words. He was only able to offer a wear, "I-I don't know."

With an unpossessed power, she latched her legs around his midsection, hoisted him completely on the bed, and rolled him on his back. He wasn't sure if the drug had an adrenaline boost, or if he was boneless from shock and Scully capitalized on it. Her new strength aside, she was now on top of him straddling his stomach, dangerously low, and was peering down at him through flirty lashes.

"Well, let me help you solidify your theory," she purred, rolling her hips on him, earning a choked moan. "So you're hypothesizing that the tea has some sort of compound in it, possibly herbal or pharmaceutical, that upon consumption, will lower the inhibitions of the consumer. Thus, causing them to act out on their deepest desires. Correct?" She asked, undulating her hips through the whole statement.

Mulder was staring up at her in shock until a gentle squeeze of her legs on his sides made him realize she was waiting for an answer. Finding his voice he offered, "Yes. M-more or less, that's the conclusion I've drawn." He now was gripping her hips tightly to stop her movements.

Unperturbed by his grasp, she continued her speech, "So it must be pretty potent if I was so heavily affected in such a short time. But I had a few sips in the car and nothing happened," she offered, running her hands up and down his chest.

Trying to ignore his incessant hard on that was painfully pressed against his jeans, he continued on with this in hopes that it was bringing her back to her normal self. "Well, actually, you were really nice to me in the car. N-not that you aren't nice. It was just out of the ordinary for you to compliment me like that."

She appeared to be absorbing what he was saying, then nodded in agreement. "That's right. I remember you looked sad and I wanted you to feel better," she mused, making him smile again. When she caught sight of his smile, the predatory gleam returned in her eye making his breath catch in his throat.

She continued on with her analysis, "So then I come in here, finish it, and now here we are," rolling her hips for emphasis. "In all technicality, you saw how the Sheriff was looking at me, I know you did because I could see how jealous it was making you. What if he gave me tea that was laced with some sort of date-rape drug. For all he knew we were going back to our motel in town. Maybe he wanted me to drink it so he could sneak into my room and have his way with me. There were no other cases we saw regarding sex. Maybe this was an unrelated event of a lonely Sheriff wanting what he couldn't have otherwise"

Mulder's brow furrowed, his concern superseding everything else, "I-I did't think of that. I thought date rape drugs incapacitated the consumer. Is there a type that could cause sexual aggression?" he asked.

Scully threw her head back in a throaty laugh and Mulder reveled in the sound. She leaned her head back towards him in amusement, "Is that what you consider this, Mulder? Sexual aggression?" She didn't wait for a response before giving her own, "But-yes. There are such drugs, especially when they are altered or mixed. But do you know why I don't believe that's the case here?"

Mulder truly did not know where she was going with this and just shook his head. She placed one hand on either side of his head and was now gazing down at him from her perch. "Because, Mulder, your theory fits better. If this was a drug inducing arousal, I could have finished the job off myself."

The image of Scully pleasuring herself prevailed his mind and he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his throat. Scully's smile was now challenging the Cheshire cat. She continued, "But no, my first thought wasn't getting myself off. It was getting myself off with you. Which is exactly what I fantasize about on a daily basis. I don't want to rob a bank, I don't want to murder someone, I don't want to do any of the things the others did; I want to hear you moan my name as your fucking me. I want to feel you love me like I love you."

Mulder was on the verge of tears. This luxurious torture was too much for him to handle. He was awestruck that the beautiful woman of his dreams was confessing to, not only sexually fantasizing about him, but confessing to reciprocating the feelings of love he felt towards her. However, nothing could happen right now, he would never take advantage of Scully in an altered state.

She moved one hand from the side of his head and moved it down to the front of his pants. She leaned down so her lips were practically on his and said, "Don't you lie to me because I know you want this too."

He reached down and gripped her wrist, pulling it away from his aching cock. "Scully, we can't right now. You're not yourself. I would never have sex with you while you're under an influence," he saw her start to pout and moved a finger under her chin so she had to look at him, "I can't even tell you how much I want this. From the other cases, we know everyone affected remembers their actions the next day, so remember this; I love you so much. I want to be with you more than anything in the world, but I cannot do anything with you until this has worn off, please understand."

She looked conflicted, but ultimately nodded. "Will you stay with me at least?" she requested, easing off him a little, much to his appreciation.

"Of course," he answered, watching her move from her perch atop him. He panicked a bit when she reached behind her back and whipped off her bra. He quickly averted his gaze, not after having caught a glimpse at her beautiful breasts, and tried to calm his breathing. He was relieved when she crawled next to him on the bed and he saw she had put on her pyjama top.

They re-positioned themselves so that they were laying under the sheets. Now that he was pretty much hidden out of view, he slipped off his pants and threw them on the floor so he could sleep comfortably. He reached over and turned off the lights, putting one arm around her neck before kissing the top of her forehead and wishing her a goodnight. The couple soon fell into an undisturbed slumber.

Motel 88

Troutdale, Oregon

6:24 A.M.

Mulder awoke in confusion. His sleep-laden brain tried to comprehend where he was and the unfamiliar pressure he felt. When he looked down and saw a mass of red, tousled hair, everything came rushing back to him. Scully loves me.

He felt his chest tighten as he looked at her gentle features, highlighted my the sunrise. He also felt his erection was still present and pressing into Scully's hip, which was draped over him. It can't be healthy to have all your blood rushing to fuel a 10 hour, non-stop erection. He stilled a little as he noticed her shifting, his breath stopping when we head raised. She looked around, just as confused as he had been. As soon as her eyes locked on his, her entire face flushed an unhealthy shade of red. He couldn't help but wonder if it took more blood to fuel that flush or his hard on.

She slowly sat up fully and he felt his stomach plummet in the realization that she was probably beyond embarrassed. She was always so reserved, in the best way possible. Last night she revealed things to him that she probably had never planned to. He decided it was better to get her to talk about it now, before she had a chance to bury her feelings, "Scully, how are you feeling."

She turned slightly towards him and he could see her bottom lip was quivering and it broke his heart. He quickly joined her in a sitting position and threw an arm around her shoulder, bringing her to his chest in a hug. "Hey, hey, please don't cry. Why are you upset?" he asked even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

She spoke so silently, he questioned if he even heard it at all, "I'm really embarrassed." A single tear rolled down her cheek, but in normal Scully-fashion, she turned her head away from him in hopes he hadn't seen.

Deciding to put his feelings on the line, he offered his honesty to make her feel better, "I don't like the fact that guy drugged you and that you lost control of your own free-will," she sobbed a little at the memory but he continued, "But that was the only thing I didn't like about last night. Okay, I guess aside from the fact the woman of my dreams was confessing everything I could have dreamed of hearing her say and I couldn't do a single thing in return." he noticed she was a bit stiller and was now just lightly sniffling.

He took this as a good side and decided to continue, "Scully I don't know if you remembered what I said, but I meant every word. I absolutely adore you, I have loved you for years. I don't want you to feel any embarrassment over last night. I don't know how you're perceiving your actions, but from an outside point of view, it was the hottest thing I have seen or experienced in my entire life."

She turned her head over to face him slightly more and spoke up a little bit, "I basically forced myself on you," she whispered. He looked down at her incredulously. Did she view that as unwanted advances?

"Scully, I can promise you wholeheartedly that you did nothing to me that I haven't dreamt of you doing. The only reason I was rebuffing anything was because I didn't want to take advantage of you in an altered state. I would never forgive myself," he reassured. "While I want nothing more than to show you how much I appreciated everything you said, I don't want you to feel like anything is being held over you. If you want me to pretend like it never happened-well, actually I can't lie to you. I won't be able to forget it happened, I can never mention it in your presence and I will never remind you of it in anyway. But it will definitely remain in my top five happiest memories of my entire life, even if aliens crashed into this room right now and called me thier leader. But if you didn't mean it-" his rambling was cut off by a pair of lips crashing into his own. The kiss was soft and sweet, and he marveled at the feeling of Scully's soft, lush mouth pressed over his own.

After a beat she leaned back and looked at him, "Mulder, nothing I said was untrue. It was just as the people we questioned said, I don't know if I would ever have had the nerve to tell you without that prompt, but I meant what I said."

Mulder was a little worried that his smile might rip his face open. Scully loves me, Scully loves me, Scully wants me. The last thought made his pulse jump. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He gazed down into her eyes and was overwhelmed by the affection he saw in their depths. He took it as a sign and did what he's always dreamt of doing, he placed one hand in her hair and pressed his lips down against her own, immediately met with a bit more fervor than the kiss from a moment ago.

Everything in the world outside of Scully's inviting mouth ceased to exist. He was drunk off this kiss, and he couldn't get enough of her. Their tongues met in a playful battle, going from one mouth to another. Her tongue was like wet silk and every movement of her lips against his own made him want to moan. He started to get light headed and had to break the kiss to catch his breath. When their lips left one another, his eyes were drawn to the string of saliva that connected their lips. After a few pants, the string broke and landed on her chin. It was the most painfully erotic thing he had ever seen.

"Fuck, Scully" the words slipped out of his mouth like a prayer.

Scully's dark eyes latched onto him as she straddled his hips and resumed their kissing. He grabbed her hips, but unlike last night, he pressed her core down on his erection and ground into her centre. Her mouth halted as she throatily moaned into his mouth. Fucking Christ.

She sat back up and moved her hands near where they were joined, it took his brain a second to catch up with her hands to realize she was trying to take off his shirt. He sat up with her and whipped off his shirt. As soon as it was off, her hands were greedily roaming the undiscovered territory.

He didn't even know his body could experience the sensations she was providing him with. He has never been more appreciative of her medical training then he was in this moment, did she ever know the body. Her teeth grazed lightly over his nipples causing him to involuntarily buck his hips, desperate for friction. The motion made Scully whimper into his chest and it nearly set him over.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back a little, so he had access to the buttons on her shirt. She reached up to undo the top button, but he placed his hand over hers, "Please, let me," he begged, watching amusement dance with the lust in her eyes as she nodded. He wanted to memorize this moment, not that it would be hard with his eidetic memory, but he wanted to experience everything he could about Scully.

He cradled her face in his hand and gently traced the outline of her lips with his thumb. The lips that he had spent years fantasizing about were now under his touch. He felt her gently kiss the pad of his digit with her lips, just slightly darting the tip of her tongue out. The image was painfully suggestive and he had to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath. When he opened his eyes he moved his fingers down the slope of her milky white neck, leaving a light trail of her own saliva in his thumbs wake. When he got to the hollow of her throat, he gently fondled the gold cross that lived there, earning a small smile from the eager woman.

When he went lower he hit the silk of her top, "You have too many clothes on," he teased.

He got a breathy chuckle in response, "Can you help me with that?"

With a slight nod he moved to the buttons prohibiting the skin on skin contact he so desperately wanted. Willing his shaky fingers to cooperate, he moved button by button relishing the exposed flesh. He could tell by her labored breath that she was as eager as he was. When the final button was undone, he moved his hands to her shoulders and gently pushed the fabric away.

He saw her chest flush, and could tell it was taking a lot of her will power not to cover her breasts from his gaze. He placed his hand on her bare hips and whispered into her neck, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are." He immediately started kissing the erogenous zone on her neck, but by the pull of her tendons, he could tell his comment made her smile.

Her skin was smooth and beautifully blemished, like a road map of her life that he wanted to travel forever. He had seen her near-naked on many occasions. One of which happened their first week as partners. But each time made him fall deeper and deeper in love with her. He wanted to cry in gratitude that Dana Katherine Scully was allowing him to worship her in this moment. He wanted to show her how much he loves her.

Not letting his mouth halt their ministrations, he moved his hands to cup her heavy breasts and he felt her pulse quicken under his tongue. He placed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples and lightly flicked them back and forth, making her grind into his lap.

Quickly he replaced his fingers and took a nipple greedily into his mouth, making her cry out. Fueled by the sounds she was making, he was unrelenting, swapping attention from nipple to nipple until he felt her hand cup his erection through his boxers forcing him to stop as his whole body shuddered.

She leaned down so he breath tickled his neck, "Mulder, there are so many other things I want to do to you, but I know we have plenty of opportunities to explore in the future. I need to feel you inside me right now," she pleaded as she stroked his length, stopping at his base to cup his balls.

Her words almost made him cum on the spot, and she laughed at his lengthy groan. He looked at her aroused face and nodded eagerly. Disengaging for a moment, they both quickly removed their pants before she returned to straddling his lap. In the iridescent sunrise, caught a glint of her arousal running down her legs, one little drop dribbling onto his stomach. He reached out a hand to confirm he wasn't hallucinating and was met with her bucking into his soaked palm.

"You're so wet," he groaned with pleasure.

She didn't even seem to notice, instead, she was hyper focused on his penis standing at attention and bobbing eagerly against her inner thigh. He felt a little shy under her unrepentant gaze before she muttered with a smirk, "Oh my god, Mulder, you're hung."

He laughed in relief. As a medical doctor, he knew she had seen plenty in her time and that her compliment was not meant to simply boost his ego. Before he had a chance to reply, she was perched over him, cock in hand, rubbing his tip over her slit, coating himself with her wetness.

She slowly, inch by inch, started to lower herself down on his length. He had to bite his palm to keep himself from bucking into her. After a moment she had slid all the way down to the base of his pelvis and threw her head back in ecstasy as she became accustomed to his girth.

When she was ready, she started moving up and down his length, rotating her hips in an attempt to heighten the friction. Mulder felt all the air leave his lungs as he was overcome with the sensation of being buried in Scully. She was unbelievably wet, warm, and inviting. He met her thrust for thrust, watching her breast bounce up and down with each gyration.

After a few minutes, he could tell she was close based on the erotic mewling sounds she was making. He sat his body up and she gasped at the new pressure it put on her sensitized clit. She started bucking wildly against his lap, frequently stopping at the hilt and rotating her hips to grind her clit onto his pubic bone. Wanting to help push her over the edge, he licked three fingers and placed them on her bundle of nerves, moving against them vigorously. Scully, having watched the whole thing, felt her orgasm rush over her like a wave. She impaled herself on his engorged penis and ground against his fingers, screaming his name.

Mulder was blinded by the sight in front of him. Her hands went to his shoulders and her nails dug in, attempting to push herself farther down on him. It was as if their bodies were one entity. He body trembled with her orgasm, as her face twisted into beautiful bliss. The sight of her, combined with the feeling of her pelvic muscles squeezing around him and the sound of his name coming from her lips, sent him over the edge as well. With one final thrust, he joined her in ecstasy. When their orgasms subsided, Mulder felt Scully go boneless in his lap and she rested her forehead against his. He gently placed a kiss on her sweaty forehead and cradled her in his arms.

"Wow," he felt her smile against his chest, making him grin in pride.

He gently laid back down, slipping semi-hard out of her, and wrapped his arms around her.

He didn't mean to, but he felt tears slipping down his cheeks. When she brushed her thumb over the tracks, he opened his mouth to explain, but she beat him to it, "I love you too"

He placed a gentle kiss to her lips which was reciprocated with love and gentility.

The partners, now in every sense of the word, laid in contented bliss, eager to do so for every day after.

#x files #x files fanfic #fanfic #msr #mulder #scully

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

Text

Best friends brother!Johnny

Warnings: voyeurism, jerking off, blonde johnny bc yes this is a fair and just warning, spitting, inexperienced (of age) reader, finger fucking, teary eyed orgasm

You know it's wrong, on so many levels. You should retreat back to the room, should leave him to do whatever it is he's doing. But it's as if he did it on purpose, cracking his door open after hearing your footsteps and rummaging downstairs as you fixed yourself a glass of water.

It had been closed when you passed previously, warm light illuminated underneath the door, from somewhere inside his room.

There's always been a...tension, for lack of better term, between the two of you for about two years now. It's incredibly hard to not seem so obvious around him, with his plush pink lips and tall, lithe frame. He'd purposely make eye contact with you during dinners or movies, just to watch you squirm and look away, cheeks hot.

Its not fair, he carries a tangible aura around him, the type that makes your belly warm and heat spread throughout your inner thighs. Maybe it's a crush, or simply just you, being irrationally attracted to a man who's pretty and definitely has big dick energy.

But still, you can't ignore the voice of reason that echoes in the back of your head as you fight the urge to sneak a peek, having heard soft, but purposeful expletives in a low voice that could only be his.

It's not even necessarily panick that you feel, inching closer and closer on the tips of your toes, your brain filled with vivid, fever inducing images of what he could possible be doing, even if it's already blatantly obvious.

A part of you wants to rationalize, but the other half has not even a hint of doubt that he's doing it on purpose, a cruel punishment of some sort.

Tonight he'd caught you staring a bit too hard, a bit too shamelessly. Your bestfriend and their parents were engrossed in a coversation after dinner, you and Johnny on opposite ends of the long grey couch.

He was wearing a black tee that fit snug around his biceps in an unmissable way, slim grey sweats on his bottom half that allowed his thick thighs, among other things, to be seen clear as day when he sat down.

As always, your gaze gravitated towards him like a magnet, pupils wide as you divulged in raking over his entire figure. From his tousled, and recently dyed golden hair, to his elegant yet sharp profile, and then lower. And lower. You were confident enough that everyone else was too distracted to notice, that he too was engrossed in the conversation being had.

But then you felt it, his eyes, burning holes into you. This time, when you met eachothers stare from where you were sat, something deranged and idiotic inside of you decided that you wouldn't look away this time, that if he wanted to play this game with you as he seemingly had been for the past couple years, that you'd play along too.

Something about it felt oddly safe, like, what? Your bestfriends older brother is going to rat you out and tell everyone that you're staring at him? Not likely.

So, you glanced from his lips and then back to his hooded eyes, something inside of him whirring at the small but obvious notion.

To your surprise, he was the first one to break. You had almost gasped, as if the whole time you'd been in a trance and forgotten where you were, who he really is. He cleared his throat, running his slim fingers through the front of his hair before standing, quickly.

"Feeling tired, gonna go to bed early."

He'd stated, politely yet in a manner that felt all too unusual in comparison to his usually steady, confident tone. No one else seemed to notice, but you definitely did. You felt stupid, staring at his broad back as he trotted to his room.

Once he was at the top of the staircase, you could have sworn he threw you a glance over his shoulder.

He didn't leave the room after that, and now here you are, being severely unhinged and deciding that it's a good idea to listen closely, and eagerly, to the pants coming from behind his door.

Maybe you're letting your fantasies get the best of you. What if he's not even doing that? As unpleasant as it is to think, what if all this time you've just been this hormonal mess around a person who is just existing as the sexy and somewhat flirty man that he is?

Afterall, he is effortless in nearly everything he does, it's not like it's hard for him to capture the attention of others. Maybe he's weirded out, what if it's all just in your hea-

"Fuuuck, Y/N."

Your eyes go wide, heart pounding so loudly you're almost scared he might hear it. You feel like every nerve in your body has been struck with a live wire.

There's no fucking way.

But then he moans again, louder this time, and you find your inhibitions almost completely disappearing as you saunter in the dark to a position where you can peek inside to get a clear look.

Nothing prepares you for the sight, not the thoughts your subconcious conjures up on nights where the need to relieve yourself becomes overwhelming.

He's so pretty, his head thrown back against his headboard, heart shaped lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You don't even pay attention to what he's doing yet, too focused on the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows, the shape of his jaw.

But it's impossible to ignore the way his bicep is flexing under his minisrations, leading your eyes south to where his large hand is gripping the base of his thick shaft.

Fuckfuckfuck.

He's big, the tip slightly darker than the rest, almost plum in hue. You can't take your eyes off of his long fingers, the way they're wrapped around his dick. You wonder how it would feel if it were you, jerking him off like this, being the source of his guttural groans.

It's just all so filthy, the sounds, the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You feel slick between your thighs, overwhelmed at the sight of his manhood that surpasses any and every expectation that your daydreams have created, deciding to watch his face again and tuck the memory of his lewd expressions into the back of your mind for later use.

But it's as if your heart stops, when you lift your gaze to see that he's already staring right at you, eyes lowly lidded and indescribably dark as he continues to jerk himself off.

It feels surreal, like maybe this is all a dream and you'll wake up soon and greet him in the kitchen during breakfast or something and all of this will just be another reason to be overwhelmingly nervous around him.

But it is real, in fact you're sure of it because that's his voice, clear and resonant calling your name, beckoning you with a lascivious, yet welcoming cadence.

"Come here."

Your feet move on their own accord, brain not yet in sync with your body, still trying to comprehend the fact that this is all really happening.

You know you look nervous, bewildered as you step into his room, a room you've seen and snuck into many times before with your bestfriend to steal vinyls from his collection. Except now, said bestfriends older brother is stroking his dick while you suddenly rethink being so overly confident earlier tonight.

You instinctively close the door, too worried about someone seeing despite the fact that your bestfriends room is on the other side of the house, his parents on the first floor.

You realize as soon as it clicks shut, that you've solidified it; whatever is about to happen. Though you're not as scared as you thought you'd be, more so fascinated and unbearably aroused as you approach him where he's sat on the bed.

He pats the space between his legs, just below his knees as to not make you apprehensive or nervous. You do so, eyes wide with curiosity and exhilaration. You fold your legs underneath yourself, heart hammering from behind your ribcage as you sit.

"You know," He begins lowly, hand still wrapped around his hard cock, stroking slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if this whole thing is as casual as eating dinner together. "It's rude to work me up so much and then not even say hello while you're spying on me."

Your cheeks burn, gut twisting with a mixture of arousal and embarassment. You look everywhere but his eyes, knowing they're on you, examining your every expression.

"I-I'm sorry I wasn't trying to spy, I just heard you and-"

He interrupts with an amused chortle, loving every minute of your shy fidgeting.

"And what? Just had to look, huh? I knew you would, always had eyes for me," He states in a manner that has your sex throbbing between your legs. "You were really bold tonight, I mean look how hard you made me baby, could barely stand it."

You can't resist peering up at him through your lashes now, his countenance hungry and full of desire; it almost has you whining, the source of your sexual frustration sitring right in front of you professing that you're the reason his dick is being fisted in his palm.

"I didn't even know that you thought of me like that, to be honest."

He chuckles, head cocking to the side ever so slightly.

"I do, I have for a while now, after I knew for sure that you felt the same way. You think you're so slick, staring at me like that."

His hand quickens in pace and you finally find some courage within yourself, his admittance leaving you slightly breathless but the comfort of his room and the quiet of the house allowing for an appropriate atmosphere.

As appropriate as this could be.

"Johnny, I want to touch you."

It almost comes out as a whisper, you can see him swallow.

"Go ahead baby, you can touch me."

Your fingertips trace the inside of his thighs before you hesitantly grasp his dick in your hands, disbelief clouding your senses at the realization of what's happening, and that it can't be taken back now. Not that you want it to.

You take mental notes of the moment, the softness of his golden skin, the slight stickiness of his precum and the curve of his length. It's so pretty upclose.

His own hand is suddenly wrapping around yours, dwarfing it completely as he shows you the pace he enjoys, the contact causing you to squeeze your thighs together.

"Just like that," He bites down on his plump bottom lip, a flutter of heat suddenly rushing between your legs. "Have you ever done this before?"

He removes his hand but keeps it close to yours, allowing you to work as you shake your head in a silent confession.

"Are you okay with this? Really?"

You both regard eachother with a shared gaze, the softness of his voice giving you more butterflies than you'd like to admit.

"Yes, yes I'm really okay with it."

At this you pick up the pace, twisting your hand in the same manner you saw him demonstrate earlier, taking pride in the groan that leaves his throat. You feel like you're on fire, but in a good way.

"Y-You moaned my name earlier." You state, free hand wandering over the thighs you've dreamt of riding, and over his agile hips. His skin is silky.

He hums in admittance, cock twitching.

"I was thinking about you, about this. I've been cumming to the thought of you more often recently."

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, his arm reaching out towards you, smooth knuckles caressing your sweltering cheek.

More often, as in, he's done it before. As in, you haven't been the only one fantisizing. It feels like your head is spinning.

"You're really so clueless, don't even realize how fuckin' horny you make me."

He bucks into your fist, your senses becoming overwhelmed. It's the arousal fogging your brain that finally leads you to speaking more than just a few words per sentence.

"I just wasn't sure, I spend more time than I'd like to admit thinking of all the things I want you to do to me, all the things I want to do to you," Your palm twists over his tip, his mouth slightly agape as he listens with rapt attention.

"Your dick is much prettier in person, you should feel how wet I am right now."

It feels as if you've just run a mile, out of breath. A bead of pearlescent precum cascades down his frenulum.

"Can I?" He asks, the strain in his rough voice evident. You nod eagerly, gasping as he suddenly reaches out and clasps his large hands just under your arms, to pull you onto his lap, sitting you on his thighs.

"Open your hand for me sweetheart."

You do as he asks, worked up beyond belief and even more so as he purses his lips and spits into your palm.

You're gripping him again as he cups your pussy through your leggings, middle finger tracing your slit through the thin material. It's a foreign feeling, having someone else touch you so intimately; you're not prepared for the surge of desire that washes over you.

He senses this in the way your wrist slows, rythym faltering just slightly. You pick it back up as he slips his hand past your waistband, the warmth of his digits against your slick folds all too much to bear.

You let out a soft mewl, and he slips his middle finger inside of your warm, welcoming walls, sucking in air through his teeth as your slick coats the digit.

He begins to thrust into you in time with the pace you stroke his cock, the sticky sounds of your wetness driving him more wild than it does when he's picturing it inside of his head.

The moment is so vivid, for both if you. His fingers are so much longer than your own, skilled and curling inside of you as his middle digit nudges your cervix. The pressure of him rubbing your sweet spot has you barely holding your eyes open.

"Feels good, sweetheart? You like when I finger fuck you?"

You're fully in it now, senses overtaken with a yearning, a need. You're already so gone yet irrevocably present, the depravity in his voice causing a knot of desire to swirl in the pit of your abdomen.

"Y-Yes I love your fingers J-John- oh!"

You hiccup your words as he adds another finger, his eyes glossed over with astonishment at how wet you are, coating his silver rings and soaking his palm.

"You love em' huh?" He uses his free hand to wrap around your throat, gently but firmly, forcing you to look down at him. The knot of his eyebrows and the parting of his lips is enough to have you twitching around him.

You're using your fist to fuck just his tip now, as you've noticed even despite the haze of your arousal how he's more sensitive there. You wonder if he's as close as you are, as he suddenly pulls you down to his parted lips, pressing your mouth to his.

This feeling is different, it's blissful in an agonizing way. Your body is tingling all over, the pleasure reaching a sweltering peak. He pulls back but doesn't move his lips from yours, delivering slow and sloppy pecks as he speaks.

"I want you to fucking cum, show me what you do when you touch your little pussy to the thought of me."

It feels like you might cry, the sob you let out never reaching past your lips as he places his palm over your mouth; fingers fiercely fucking you through your orgasm. You notice he's cumming too when spurts of warmth drip down your fingers.

Still, he's so focused on you, the way you're writhing. Nothing will ever compare to this.

"Shh shh, that's it baby let it go, fucuuuck-" he grits through his teeth, unbearbly handsome face blurry through the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

Your thighs tremble atop his lap, his cock half hard and still in your hands. He slips his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, tongue lapping at your release.

It has you twitching, underwear almost soaked through.

He finally removes his palm from your mouth just to kiss you again, sweetly and with a softness that gives you whiplash.

"I think I'm gonna steal you, from now on." He mumbles, after the two of you finally catch your breath. You can feel the corners of his mouth lift as you hum in agreement.

"Guess I'll have to stay the night more often." You reply, nibbling on his plump bottom lip. You can hardly believe any of this really just happened.

He grasps your jaw.

"Only if I can have you again for breakfast."

#johnny seo x reader #johnny seo #johnny suh drabble #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #johnny seo drabble #nct 127 smut #nct127 x reader #nct 127 imagine #Johnny suh scenario #johnny seo scenario #nct x reader #nct smut #johnny suh fluff #nct fluff #johnny seo au #johnny suh au

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0dirty-deals0 · 4 years ago

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idea inspired bc my bf likes to hold my boobs when we cuddle/sleep. i asked him why he likes he likes too but he got all shy and stopped. i want my tiddies grabbed so everytime we cuddle i slip his hand under my shirt so he knows he can do it. so maybe the brothers reactions to female mc grabbing their hands and doing that? hope that's ok! + sorry for the mini story 😔

The Brother's reaction to Mc letting them feel the tiddy:

Warning: Not really n/s/f/w, but chest feeling is mentioned. Chest is generalized so reader can be read as Gender Neutral.

Lucifer:

◇The first time you place his free hand on your bare chest is while you're sitting on his lap, keeping him company while he works per his request. He is incredibly confused by your action and raises a single brow to signify it. You do realize he still has work to do, right? As much as he wants to mess you up, he can't at the moment.

◇You have to bluntly tell him that this is just a comforting gesture to you. He won't question you any further but he will start wondering what other strange interactions humans have nowadays.

◇After a while he starts to notice how soft and warm your skin is under his hand and how comforting the rise and fall of your chest is. His tense form slowly relaxes and he finds himself at ease.

◇He's put in a good mood the whole day because of that gesture and he finds himself finishing some of his work quicker as well. When days are particularly rough, he now likes to hold you in private while resting his hands on your bare chest. Don't try to tease him about it while he has you in his grasp because this man will squeeze and tease back harder than you did.

Mammon:

♤The two of you were enjoying a rare, quiet moment in your room. You and Mammon laid on the bed close to one another and that's when a brilliant idea popped into your head. He was already a blushing mess when you took his hands but the moment you guided them under your shirt to place them on your bare chest he let out a strange screech like noise in the back of his throat, his face looked as red as Lucifer's vest.

♤He's quick to stutter out a, "What the hell do ya think you're doing!?" Even after you say that this is just a comforting feeling to you he's still a flustered mess.

♤He immediately notices how soft and warm your skin is under his hand and he's holding back from squeezing. He's in heaven but like hell he'd admit it.

♤If you try to pull away he'll prevent you from doing so. He'll quickly adjust your positions so he's spooning you from behind, hiding his face with your back as he tries to calm himself. He's always greedy to have you in his grasp. Even though he may 'protest' when you try this again, he won't completely fight you on it. He makes you promise not to do this with any of his other brothers.

Leviathan:

◇It was no secret that you loved teasing Leviathan here and there. His reactions were some of the cutest. So one day while sitting on his lap, you had the bright idea of slowly sliding his hands up your shirt while he was distracted watching a new anime of his. He didn't react much at first until he heard you gasp once his ice cold hands made contact with your skin, that was when the magic happened.

◇While Mammon had a weird scream in his throat, Levi actually let out a shrill shriek. You jumped at how loud it was but his hands still never left your chest. There are no words to describe how flustered and embarassed Levi was in that very moment.

◇He subconciously squeezed your chest due to his twitching fingers, the feel of how soft and warm they were under his cold hands rendered him completely speechless. He couldn't speak, he was just, frozen.

◇You tried to pull away after thinking that you may have finally broken him but he wouldn't let you go. He used his legs to trap you where you were, burying his face in the crook of his neck, anime left completely forgotten. He's fully enjoying how warm you are even though he's completely embarassed. If you ever want him to hold you this close again, this is possibly one of the many best ways of doing so. Just, please give him a warning before he actually dies.

Satan:

♤You two were initially studying in his room but the topic of different kinds of species came up and it sort of spiralled from there. He expresses that certain human media show fondness for chests though he could never understand why. You offer a more intimate research to see if you can help him understand, to which he agrees.

♤He's confused when you gently take his hands but his face slowly turns a light shade of red when you guide them up your shirt and onto your bare chest. He has to ask several times if this is really okay with you and you agree.

♤He knew humans were soft and warm but you just felt so different to the rest. The way you felt to him was incredibly comforting and the way your chest moved as you breathe was something he found oddly soothing even though he knew it was a normal thing living beings did.

♤He finds it super hard to pull his hands away but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. He mumbles out how he thinks he can understand why some are fond of that particular area now. You can't help but tease him and say that he's always free to have another physical session if he'd like and he surprises you by agreeing to it. He soon discovers that the feeling of your chest really soothes him in a way he never knew possible.

Asmodeus:

◇You and Asmo were having your weekly self care session when this happened. While drying yourself after a relaxing soak in tub, Asmo talks about how he can guess a persons chest size, no matter the gender, just by feeling them. You called bullshit on this skill of his. He asked how he could prove it and the only thing you could think to do was grabbing his hand and placing it on your bare chest.

◇He's incredibly taken back by the forwardness of your actions that he actually forgets how to speak for a while. A few moments passes and he tells you your chest size. (If you knew your size to begin with, his answer was right.)

◇Still, even after he's given you his answer he's not willing to let go just yet. He gives your chest a bit of a squeeze and marvels at how nice it feels. He's been with many demons and humans, maybe even other creatures best unmentioned but he's never met someone with a chest close to perfection like his own. He wonders how everything about you is almost as perfect as he is.

◇Honey you started it, so best be prepared because now (with your consent beforehand) he's going to get a feel of your chest every chance he gets when you two are alone. He finds it very addicting to do so and it doesn't even lead to something sexual most of the time, he just genuinely enjoys the way they feel in his grip.

Beelzebub:

♤You were watching a human movie with Beel and everything was going fine, besides the fact that the movie was getting a little boring. A certain scene came up where the main couple were sleeping together and one of the characters had a hand on their lover's chest. Beel breaks the long comfortable silence to ask if it's a nice feeling to humans when a person touches their chest. You shrug and say that you like the feeling but you're not sure about how others feel about it.

♤He then asks if it's equally as nice to hold someone's chest and that's when you offer if he'd like to try. He grows flustered and doesn't say a word even while you guide one of his hands to your chest.

♤He's incredibly scared of hurting you, you'll have to reassure him that giving a small squeeze won't cause you pain. He does so with such care that that it makes you giggle at how sweet he is. His eyes seem to light up at how soft your skin and makes a reference that your chest feels like a marshmallow, causing you to laugh.

♤Your chest is now Beel's favourite thing to hold when you two are sleeping together. The way your chest moves to signify you're still alive and breathing brings Beel a lot more comfort than you realize, especially when he wakes up from a nightmare of his. It's more of a soothing and comforting gesture than a sexual one to him.

Belphegor:

◇It was normal for you and Belphie to sometimes sleep together after school and it was also normal for you to wake up hours earlier than him. If you were cuddling up to anyone else, moving wouldn't be such a big problem, but Belphie has an iron grip on you the moment he feels you try to leave. You can't even trick him, he just knows. So you accept your fate as his giant breathing pillow and decide to look through your D.D.D. while playing with his hair.

◇He suddenly moves you around so you're laying on your back and he's laying on his side with his limbs wrapped around you. Not one to waste an opportunity, you decide to play around with the arm that rested across your stomach. You flop it around at first, amazed that it doesn't stir him from his sleep, then you had the idea of placing his hand on your chest.

◇That's when he stirs a bit from his sleep, looking at your embarrassed face and then at where his hand is placed. He clicks his tongue and gives your chest a small squeeze, muttering out a 'nice,' before laying his head back onto your shoulder. It was such an odd experience that you couldn't help the stream of snickers that left your lips, despite being embarrassed at first.

◇He doesn't remember much of what happened and you don't really think it's that important to bring it up. However, while Belphie doesn't remember, his body sure does. His hands will start to roam on their own whenever you two sleep together and will make their way under your shirt to your chest. He doesn't know why he does it and you don't know why either, but the two of you are comfortable with it so you don't particularly mind.

Others: Ahh, I loved this request so much but holy shit I had to redo it like 3 times XDD IN THIS HOUSE, WE WORSHIP ALL TIDDIES! Thank you for the request anon! I'm a little insecure about this post so feel free to tell me if this wasn't what you wanted! Thank you for reading!!!

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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post-modern-prometheus · 4 years ago

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My way of coping with WV Finale. Warning: unpopular and weird headcanons, some angst at the end.

1. Ralph Bohner is a skrull

2. Who was hiding, because somehow he knew Wanda would come to Westview

3. Not sure if he knew he would have to deal with Agatha and her magic. Her mean comments about Ralph looking better in the dark, hm?

4. Why did he take Peter's form, not Pietro's? Maybe he knew in advance that Peter will/should play a bigger part in the future. For a good start: kids loved Uncle P.

5. And the kids are the reason why Wanda is in possesion of the Darkhold

6. So when the Multiverse is finally shown, somehow, we would see X-men Quicksilver UNAFFECTED BY RALPH BOHNER CRAP, because that wasn't him

7. Wanda (thanks to the experience in Westview) recognizes his face immediately, maybe even fight Peter at first, before she realizes HE is really her multiverse twin brother.

8. Who also went through some grief. Later it turned out they were calling each other subconciously.

9. And that's the part where we finally have our multiverse twins, both as themselves, not under any spell.

10. The bittersweet ending though, because I was inspired by Cloud Atlas. "I believe there's a world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there"

WAIT HIM BEING A SKRULL IS KINDA 👀

#wandavision #peter maximoff #quicksilver

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voxxphantasma · 3 years ago

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for the character thing: ivy my me :]

IVY MY FRIEND IVY YOUR YOU!!

realistic: emotionless ivy is OUT. ivy having to relearn a lot of things is IN. i dont mean in like a way that in like a weird way i mean that like. ok so like for example (iirc) your amygdala stores stuff like fear memories, and by extension, your responses to those. i feel like shed have to relearn a lot of more subconcious things bc of her mechanization— fear responses, hand-eye coordination, things that you dont really need to Think about doing.

funny: each of the mechs have specific rules catered towards them regarding the archives. marius cannot be unsupervised (or else he WILL eat a book), but is otherwise mostly ok in the library. ashes is not allowed to bring anything that coupd cause any sort of fire. this has resulted in many sequences of them just continuously pulling shit out of their pockets for like 10 minutes straight. jonny is absolutely under no circumstances allowed UNLESS she or brian is with him. the rules are all listed under a board she made that hangs outside the archives. also she brian and ts have book club/tea party hybrids once a spweek (space week).

angst: so i personally am of the belief the mechs died in the order we're given in dttm— when ivy retired to the library, the remaining crew wouls occassionaly stop by. maybe with gifts, or stories, or to just. hang out for a bit. i think they were actually very respectful of her library. when they showed up and saw the burned remains of the library, they knew what had happened :(

unrealistic: ive spent like 5 minutes trying to rhink of one but just about every single one i think of is realistic bc its the mechanisms so im going to give u one i thought of in that time ivy dyes the octokittens' fur into cool patterns. she only uses the safest dye for them and does a very good job

#snail mail #the mechanisms #ivy alexandria #mutuals

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zuzuslastbraincell · 4 years ago

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Since you like Mailee, what would be your ideal scenario for them? The best 'happy ending' they could have together?

oh such a good question!

I don't think they're necessarily, following canon, quite at relationship stage yet. I think Mai was surprised when Ty Lee chose her over Azula - no one had chosen her before - and then they're separated in different prisons most likely, so I imagine they spend a while sending each other letters while Mai is at the palace and Ty Lee is with the Kyoshi Warriors and communicate in honest words for the first time instead of gestures and tics and so on. Letters are a breath of fresh air after keeping it all in and it becomes a ritual they come to adore as they don't have to pretend to be different people around each other in them - they know each other's messy history, they don't need to dance around it or explain.

as characters go, Ty Lee, being one of seven, has strived to mark herself as an individual, and perhaps not received enough attention as she needed. Thus she moulds her personality around the people who need her (Azula) in order to get validation, and has a tension between being what people needs vs. being a unique individual that come from the same source: insecurity. I think she's not got a secure sense of identity and selfhood, which makes joining the Kyoshi warriors an interesting move (I imagine it was a poorly thought out impulse decision, where Ty Lee returns to what is familiar - being 'one of a matching set' - without thinking about how that might make her feel insecure. I like to imagine it *could* turn out well, it needn't be terrible, but that's partially on the Kyoshi Warriors & Suki to help her adjust). Really though, I would say it's quite possible - and Ty Lee possibly subconciously knew this - that it's a temporary move, on a longer journey to try and build a more secure sense of identity.

I think whatever happy ending endgame scenario for Ty Lee would need to include something where she could express her individuality - like arts & crafts, for example. She's always shown an interest in gymnastics and acrobatics, so maybe she'd also be involved in a dance troupe, for instance - which is interesting, given the footloose episode indicates there's been some repression & limitation placed on dance, so maybe she leads a comeback in it? I could also see Ty Lee getting stuck into things that are messy and unconventional with art - something very physical like pottery or sculpture. I also think her willingness to join the Kyoshi Warriors & the Circus indicates that she wants *distance* from herself and home. I think regardless where she ends up, it can't be the same environment she grew up in - a Fire Nation noble house.

Mai is similar in that she has found the environment she was brought up in stifling and tedious, with limited avenues for emotional expression. I know some people say that she'd be fantastic in politics - and that could be the case - but I can't see her as anything but frustrated with the artifice and the restraint asked of her. I feel like Mai knows much more clearly what she doesn't want and doesn't like - but is still figuring out what she *does* want. I think anything where she's stuck in the palace is a no and like Ty Lee she probably has a journey of self-discovery.

So like, considering this: I like to imagine after Ty Lee has done with being a Kyoshi Warrior and Mai has just reached Her Limit with Palace bullshit, Mai leaves the palace, meets up with Ty Lee, and they travelling companions for a while, visiting and exploring different places together (on Zuko's money lol). Mai likes to make little sketches of what she sees, observations, moments, but also I like to imagine she begins to express herself through writing, for the first time, begins writing darkly satirical novels dressed up as detective stories in the spaces she has. Ty Lee picks up about twelve different hobbies and keeps three of them, including crochet. I think eventually they settle down in a nice coastal town somewhere and set up a little arts and crafts shop selling lots of weird glassware and wacky pottery, largely Ty Lee's creation. Mai handles the books, and writes on the side, eventually sending her books off to be published anonymously (she's not interested in fame), which are met with critical acclaim, and she also runs a book group. Meanwhile, Ty Lee also gives pottery classes and helps out at an amateur dance group - and I can honestly imagine her ending up teaching people to dance, I think that would give her a sense of gratification from doing a hobby witjout competing for attention.

Basically they're just weird artsy gays who had a lot of heartfelt letters, decided enough was enough and went travelling together because they were tired of being apart, and then set up shop next to their favourite beach.

#mailee #mai #ty lee

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thatbloodymuggle · 5 years ago

Text

the one with the red dress

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 13/?

masterlist

word count: 4.9k

warnings: nothin’ new

playlist

Rosie knew Kie would be pissed at her. Well, more so her parents. She'd managed to get a black eye, a large cut on her forehead, and three potentially broken knuckles in the two days before Midsummers. Not to mention the stitches on her right hand that she'd need to remove at some point soon. Long story short, she looked like a train wreck.

In Rosie's defense, she promised her friend that she'd go; not that she'd look presentable.

She cringed as she removed the ice she'd been holding on her knuckles. They were still very swollen and had turned a deep shade of black and blue. The ice numbed the pain, but Rosie knew the throbbing would be back soon. She grumbled to herself as she reached for the bottle of ibuprofen in her bathroom cabinet, swallong two pills dry.

Rosie stared at her injured hand for a moment in contemplation. She just had to injure the hand with stitches. Rosie figured she could at least wrap her fingers to stabilize it for the night. She reached for the medical tape in one of the drawers along with a cloth dressing.

Using her left hand alone to tape the right proved to be much more difficult than Rosie thought. She kept getting the tape stuck on her hand and had to use her teeth to tear it. Not only was it difficult to use her left hand, but each time she shifted her knuckles and wrapped the tape around them a sharp pain shot up her arm. She hissed as the throbbing returned, but the teenager persisted. Soon enough, she'd done a half-decent tape job that at least kept her from bending her fingers. She then wrapped a layer of cloth dressing around the three injured fingers to make it look cleaner.

Satisfied with her work, Rosie haphazardly shoved the tools back inside a drawer and exited the bathroom. She set off to her bedroom to gather the items she'd need for the party she did not want to attend. Kie would be arriving any minute now to pick her up.

Rosie slid open her closet door and rifled through her clothes until she spotted her mother's red dress. She ran her fingers over the chiffon material of the skirt. Rosie had been debating all day whether or not she wanted to wear the dress her mom had once worn to Midsummer's. It could be nice to have a piece of her mom with her at her first (and definitely last) Midsummer's, but on the other hand, Rosie was never the sentimental type. She pulled the hanger off the rack and moved towards her mirror. She held the dress over her body to envision herself wearing it.

A loud honk sounded from outside the house, startling Rosie out of her thoughts. Kiara must have arrived. She shot herself one last glance in the mirror. In the spur of the moment, Rosie folded the dress across her arms, grabbed her makeup bag, and hurried out of the house. Sure enough, Kie's car was parked in her driveway. Rosie had barely sat down in the vehicle when she was bombarded.

"I know you don't wanna go to this, but did you have to make yourself look like you brawled with an MMA fighter?"

Rosie rolled her eyes and set the folded dress and makeup back onto her lap. She reached with her left arm to close the door since her right hand was virtually useless.

"And what the fuck did you to do your hand?" Kie shrieked upon noticing Rosie's wrapped hand.

Rosie cringed at her volume, "Shit, Kie, chill out!"

Kie's yelling stopped but she stared expectantly at her friend, waiting for an explanation.

"You saw me yesterday. Unfortunately black eyes don't go away in a day," Rosie sighed.

"Well excuse me for not noticing your appearance--I was too busy watching JJ get arrested," Kie cried again, and Rosie shrunk in her seat.

Kiara must have noticed how loud she was speaking as she awkwardly cleared her throat and spoke again at a normal tone, "What about your hand?"

Rosie glanced down at her injured hand. The throbbing had turned into a dull ache, but Rosie assumed that was because she'd gotten used to the pain; not because it was getting better.

"Broke my knuckles. Probably."

Kie's eyes widened, "Broke your--Why are you so unfazed? Rosie, you need to go to the doctor or the ER or--"

Rosie huffed, fed up with her friend's nagging

"Kie!"

She stopped her rambling and stared at the shorter girl.

"They're just a little bruised. I'm fine, really!"

Kiara shot her friend an uneasy glance, but started the car anyways.

"I hope you know that if we didn't have a party to get ready for I'd be driving you to Urgent Care right now," the taller girl grumbled as she reversed out of the driveway and set off down the road.

"I believe you," Rosie laughed. She ran her left hand over the soft fabric of the dress in her lap. Kie glanced down and noticed the red material she'd missed before.

"Oh, you have a dress!"

"It was my mom's," Rosie sighed, "I don't even know if I'm gonna wear it though. Brought it just in case."

Kiara nodded, "Well if it doesn't work my mom has one you can look at."

It didn't take long for the pair to arrive at the Carrera household. It was a nice, large house on Figure Eight, but not nearly as large as some of the other mansions in the area. The two girls hurried inside despite not looking forward to makeup, heels, and dresses.

Rosie caught Mrs. Carrera's eye as she entered. The woman jumped in shock at the state of Rosie's face. Before she could say anything, Kie cut in.

"Don't worry, mom. I'll fix her."

The two girls giggled as they made their way upstairs to Kiara's room. Rosie eyed the dress hung up on her door.

"Well that's a pretty color," Rosie admired the dress.

"Would prefer a large sweatshirt and some sweatpants any day, but I guess it'll do for one night," Kie grumbled.

Neither girl was keen on attending the Kook get-together, but Kie was being forced to and Rosie would feel bad if she didn't help her friend out.

Kie started by setting to work on Rosie's beat up face. She dabbed layers on layers of foundation and concealer until the bruise was hidden. Rosie's eyebrows shot up as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. No one would ever know she'd gotten into a fight.

"Wow, Kie. You know, you should reconsider your career path. Cosmetology might be right for you," Rosie teased. Kie brushed her off, and the two girls set to work applying minimal makeup and changing into their dresses.

Rosie frowned as she stood in her underwear staring at the red dress she'd hung beside Kiara's purple one. Should she?

She shouldn't.

Well, maybe she should.

Fuck it.

Rosie removed the dress from the hanger and slipped inside it. The fabric fit her skin with ease, and Rosie zipped up the back.

"I don't know, Kie, it's a little tight, don't you think?"

Rosie looked up from the dress at Kiara, who stood with her jaw dropped.

"Well you clean up nice!"

"I don't know, it feels weird," Rosie trailed off as she turned and saw her reflection in the floor-length mirror.

The dress fit her perfectly. The top half hugged her body and showed off the right amount of skin. Layered chiffon fabric flowed from the waist down with a slit on one leg, resembling the petals of a flower when she twirled. Rosie looked like a different girl; she looked like the an alternate version of herself. She looked like the girl that would have existed in her place had her dad not died.

But every girl loves playing dress-up every now and then, and Rosie was not an exception.

Rosie covered her awe with a snarky remark, "I look like I've gone full Kook."

Kie laughed, "We do look like bourgeousie pigs."

Rosie sat on her friend's bed as Kie picked up the two flowers crowns sitting on her desk. Both girls giggled as they made a show of placing them on each other's heads.

"Girls, are you almost ready? We need to get going soon!" Kiara's mother's voice yelled from downstairs.

"Be right down!"

While Rosie had fun getting ready with Kie, she remembered why she didn't want to come as they entered the party. It was full of Kooks and Rosie instantly felt out of place. She subconciously shifted closer to Kie as they walked through the house and outside to the lawn.

"This is disgusting," Rosie grumbled.

"Horrendous, really," Kie replied.

The two girls giggled and walked out onto the lawn together, avoiding interaction with anyone else. Kiara nudged her friend with a smile and nodded her head to the left. Rosie followed her gaze, and her eyes landed on Pope who was working behind a grill. Rosie and Kie set off towards their fellow Pogue, relieved to see a familiar face.

"Excuse me, sir, do we have to shuck these ourselves? 'Cause it might mess up my costume," Kie put on an exaggerated British accent.

Rosie giggled as Pope groaned and turned around, ready to deal with some snotty Kooks. A grin took over his face upon seeing Rosie and Kiara.

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" Pope chuckled.

Rosie felt a little less out of place standing with two of her friends on the outskirts of the party. She could tell Pope was relieved to have his friends there too.

"That accent was bad," Rosie mumbled, earning an elbow in her ribs.

They stood next to each other and turned to face the party, observing the entitled, pompous crowd before them.

"You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?" Kie grumbled what they were all thinking.

"Yeah. Last year," Pope scoffed.

"We're in the lion's den," Rosie added, eyeing the crowd before her.

She scanned the crowd and her eyes landed on Rafe and Topper. She narrowed her eyes at the two boys just as Rafe turned in her direction. He met Rosie's glare with a menacing smirk. His face made her anger from the day before return, but she didn't want to be the first to break eye contact. Rafe tapped his eye and pointed at Rosie. 'How's your eye?' he mouthed. He cocked his head in mock concern. She narrowed her eyes further.

Pope tore Rosie away from her staring contest with the Kook.

"Either of you heard from JJ?"

Rosie reluctantly shifted her gaze from Rafe back to her friends.

"No," Kie sighed.

"What about you Rosie? Didn't you go down to the station?"

Rosie frowned and her stomach churned again at the reminder of what she'd witnessed yesterday. "Didn't see him."

Pope's eyes widened, "You went to the station? Why!?"

Rosie rolled her eyes, "Not important."

There was a moment of silence before Kie spoke again, "He'll be alright. He's got the survival instincts of a cockroach."

"It's all my fault," Pope hung his head.

The anger bubbled inside Rosie, but she didn't speak for fear of not being able to stop.

"You didn't do this, Pope. Topper almost killed you, remember?" Kiara spoke firmly. Pope merely shrugged.

Their conversation was cut short as scattered applause sounded throughout the crowd. Everyone had turned to face the main door where the Ward family, minus Rafe, entered. Rosie was regretting coming more and more by the minute.

"Here come Lord Capital and the Exploiters," Kie scoffed.

"She's definitely gonna poke somebody's eye out with that," Pope muttered in reference to the flamboyant crown atop Rose Cameron's blonde head.

The three teenagers stood by the grill for a little while longer until Kie was summoned by her dad to speak to some family friends. Mr. Heyward called Pope over to get back to work, which left Rosie all alone. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure of where to go, what to do, or who to talk to.

"Come with me, she said. We'll stick together, she said," Rosie grumbled under her breath, mimicking Kiara's words just a few days earlier.

The last bit of light was leaving the sky, but the darkness made Rosie feel a little more at ease. At least she could hide from the crowd more easily. She weaved her way through the dancing bodies towards the nearest table of hor d'ouevres. Rosie's mouth watered at the large platter of assorted cheeses, fruits, and crackers. She didn't hesitate to fix herself a plate, piling it high with food. Rosie ignored the judging looks shot towards her for taking so much. She nearly moaned at the combination of expensive brie and grapes. Rosie had been living off of pre-sliced cheddar cheese for the past month, so this was certainly a step up.

She wandered over to the edge of the crowd to enjoy her plate of food. A waiter passed by Rosie and she snatched a flute of champagne from the tray he carried. The bubbly beverage tasted like heaven on her tongue. Rosie hated Kooks, but she couldn't deny that they had good taste.

Once Rosie finished her plate, she dumped it and began to look for Kiara. She walked around for a while, trying to get a good view of the crowd but to no avail. Even in heels she was too short to see above most people in front of her. Rosie huffed and decided to go to the bathroom first to wash her hands. With more bodies dancing than before, the lawn was becoming quite claustrophobic. She pushed her way up to the porch and into the mansion. The rooms inside were just as crowded.

Rosie weaved her way through the hallways for what felt like hours until she finally found a private restroom. She didn't hesitate to rush inside and lock the door behind her. She let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall. Rosie wasn't a stranger to parties; she'd been to many at the Boneyard and fair number of house parties. But this was different than any other she'd been to. This one was so suffocating.

She braced herself against the sink and looked up at her reflection in the mirror. But Rosie didn't see herself. She saw a girl living a lavish life with loving parents wearing her mother's red dress. Not an orphan who was bribed to come. Rosie frowned and sure enough, the girl in the mirror frowned back.

Rosie twisted the 'cold' handle of the sink and ran her uninjured hand underneath the stream of water. She splashed it over her face several times, letting the coolness sooth her. Rosie shut off the tap and looked back up into the mirror. This time, she stared back at herself.

The foundation concealing her eye had come off, exposing her black eye. Her mascara was smeared underneath her eyes, and her knuckles underneath the bandage were throbbing again. Rosie wiped her eyes with her thumb to remove the smudged makeup. She took the flower crown off her head and dumped it in the trash. Rosie looked like a mess, but at least she felt more like herself.

Finally, Rosie was satisfied with her appearance. With one last glance in the mirror, she exited the lavish bathroom. She set off back towards the lawn, but was halted in her tracks. Her head darted to her right to catch sight of Rafe and his goons running down another hallway. Rosie furrowed her brows, and didn't hesitate to hike up her dress and run after them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but knowing them, it couldn't be good.

Rosie followed them down another hallway where they took a sharp left turn. She stayed a good distance behind so they wouldn't spot her. They continued down another hall before turning right. Rosie crept along the hallway slowly, trying to gage what they were up to before she showed herself.

"Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more," Rafe's demonic voice carried through the hall.

Rosie's eyes widened as she realized who they were ganging up on. She didn't think before rounding the corner to face them. The hot temper she'd been growing accustomed to returned at the scene before her.

Kelce had JJ in a headlock so he was helpless against Rafe, who was taunting him. His other three goons lingered behind doing what? Rosie wasn't sure.

"You know, 5 on 1 isn't a very fair fight. But then again, you're useless without your goons, aren't you Rafe?" Rosie hissed from the doorway.

Rafe broke out into a grin and opened his arms in a welcoming manner, "Ah, there she is! Just in time for the show!"

"Let him go," Rosie spit.

"Rosie, get out," JJ growled, struggling underneath Kelce's hold.

"Aw, would you look at that! They're protecting each other, how sweet!" Rafe cooed.

The anger burned inside Rosie. The flames coursed through her veins, leaving her body hot with rage.

She stomped towards the blond asshole, "Let him go, dickhead, or I swear I'll--"

"You'll what? Show me up like you did last time?" he stepped forward and ran the back of his hand along the side of her bruised eye, "Nasty bruise you've got there. Wouldn't want another, would you?"

Three things happened all at once.

First, JJ let out a menacing scream at Rafe, "Get your filthy hands off her!"

Second, Rosie slapped Rafe with her good hand, making his head swing to one side.

Third, a man in a suit entered the locker room, preventing the fight from escalating.

"Gentlemen!"

Kelce shoved JJ out of his grip and stood by his friends, feigning innocence. Rafe lifted his head back up with a red handprint on his left cheek. JJ gripped Rosie's wrist and yanked her towards him. She stumbled over her wedges, but stood next to him.

"Is there a problem here?" the man in the suit asked.

"Pardon me, officer. No, there's not an issue. I just--"

Rosie watched as something changed in JJ's eyes.

"Actually, yes. There is an issue," he continued, "We got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in right?"

Rosie stared at him incredulously and elbowed him in the side, but JJ ignored her.

"Blatant disrespect for private property, I'm in violation of all kinds of shit, sir."

Rosie elbowed him in the side, but immediately regretted it as he turned his gaze upon her.

"Oh! And her too. Slapping someone does fall under the category of public disturbances, right?"

Rosie's eyes widened, "JJ, what are you--"

"But these young gentlemen," JJ toyed with Kelce's bowtie, "Caught us, sir, and they're about to take us away. And that's what you should do! Escort us out of here. "

Rosie tried to protest, but her attempts were made in vain as the man in the suit grabbed her by the upper arm and then JJ. She tried to struggle out of his grip, but he held her tighter. The man escorted the pair out of the locker room, but not before JJ had his last word.

"Fix that tie, son! You're lookin spiffy too," he pointed at one of the goons, "You Powerpuff Girls have fun!"

"You know Rosie, you look pretty hot for a Pogue!" Rafe bit back with venom laced in his voice.

Rosie's eyes flared, but her anger didn't match JJ's. He broke out of the man's grip to lunge at Rafe. Rosie could only watch as he ran forward. Kelce and the suited man ran forward to hold him back.

"JJ, let it go," Rosie sighed just loud enough for him to hear.

He reluctantly allowed the man to lead them back out of the locker room.

"Safe travels back to the cut!" Rafe called. Rosie showed him the freshly painted nail of her middle finger.

Rosie and JJ stumbled alongside the man, who jerked them out of the house and onto the porch.

"I can walk myself! I got legs, can you see that brother?" JJ complained, but the man only jerked them more harshly than before.

"JJ, shut up," Rosie hissed, but he ignored her.

"I really appreciate what you did back there, but let me just walk out by myself!" JJ continued his complaints.

The man's nails now dug into Rosie's arm and she tried to flinch away, but he squeezed her tighter. The lack of blood flow down her arm was starting to affect her bandaged hand, which now ached horribly. Rosie sighed, but didn't fight it this time. It's not like she wanted to be there anyways. And if they were getting kicked out, might as well leave with style.

"Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that's really nice of you. I'm actually gonna down that," JJ snatched the glass of whiskey and took a large gulp before carelessly setting it down.

The girl beside him couldn't mask the amused smile tugging at her lips. She knew what he was doing.

"Whoo!" he hooted, gathering more and more attention, "It's okay, everybody! Do not panic, leave it to the men and women in uniform!"

The man released their arms and Rosie sighed in relief. He pushed them towards the exit by their shoulders instead.

"Rose!" JJ pointed and winked at Ward Cameron's wife, "You look like Lady Liberty!"

Rosie released the laugh she'd been holding in. It wasn't like she cared about any of these people, anyways.

"Let go of them!"

The rest of the crowd silenced. Rosie's head shot towards the porch where Kiara stood.

"You can't just boot them! I invited them here, I'm a member of this club," she continued.

Rosie could see the embarassment on her parents' faces. The Carrera's allowed Kie to hang out with the Pogues so long as she didn't draw attention to herself. Because that was the number one rule of being a Kook: don't embarrass your family. But Kie didn't budge. She stood her ground.

JJ turned sharply and shoved the man away. He gripped Rosie's wrist for the second time that night, "Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon's, Kie," he called out to the girl in the purple dress. "Pope, you as well," he pointed to the boy they were now passing.

JJ dragged Rosie away from the lawn.

"Kie, come on!" she called out, now fully onboard with JJ.

"Workers of the world unite!" the blond added.

JJ pulled Rosie along towards John B, whom she hadn't seen in two days. She stumbled over her wedges, but he held her steady.

"Colonel!"

"Captain, mission accomplished, sir!"

JJ released Rosie and the two boys saluted each other. She lunged towards John B and gave him a hug. He laughed, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, dragging her along as their other two friends joined. The crowd watched in utter horror as the Pogue crew ran off from the party in a fit of laughter, but Rosie didn't care.

She was wrong earlier. Most girls love playing dress-up. Rosie just wasn't one of them.

Rosie forgot about her current dilemma with JJ as she stumbled away from the party with her friends. It was a blissful moment full of laughter and no worries. They clung onto each other and just ran to wherever their path led them.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a clearing near the water where John B had docked his boat. JJ and John B set to work starting a fire in the pit surrounded by old logs. Rosie plopped down on one of the sturdier looking logs and instantly sighed in relief. She hadn't realized how painful her heels were. It didn't take long to the get fire going, and soon enough, they were all gathered around it in a circle.

"My dad's already gonna kill me, so what's this mandatory meeting about?" Pope voiced Rosie's thoughts.

"You ready for this?" John B looked around the circle, building up the anticipation.

"The gold never went down with the Royal Merchant."

Pope rolled his eyes across from Rosie, "Here we go again with this--"

"Hear him out, all right?" JJ cut in.

All eyes shifted back to John B as he spoke, "It's been here the whole time. It's on the island."

Rosie's jaw dropped, "Are you serious?"

"Oh my god!" Kie's eyes widened.

"I'd like to voice my skepticism," Pope chimed in.

"I'm sure you would. But can I please present you my evidence, sir?" John B stood up from his seat and rounded the fire.

Pope waved his hand, "Proceed."

Rosie watched in awe as John B explained his discover. She could only watch speechless as he went on about how Denmark Tanny had buried the gold on the Tannyhill plantation before his death. All they needed was an original survey map of the property.

JJ hopped up from his seat and hugged his friend, lifting him off the ground, "I'm so proud of you right now," he grabbed his face.

"So what's the plan?" Pope brought them back to the task.

"Good question," John B nudged JJ off, "Sarah Cameron's coming tonight and she's gonna bring an original survey map--"

"Hold on," Kie cut in. Rosie sighed, already knowing what was about to happen, "Sarah? Why Sarah?"

John B proceeded to explain that Sarah had gotten him into the archives of UNC the day before, but Rosie felt herself zoning out of the oncoming fight. Her eyes shifted to the side where she caught JJ's gaze.

He quickly looked away, but she held her stare. In the chaos of the past hour or so, Rosie had pushed aside the events of the day before; and the events of the day before that. Guilt crept up on her over the fact she'd almost forgotten. Because what she saw in her car yesterday was something she could never forget. And neither was what happened at the movie.

Rosie continued to stare at JJ. She knew he felt her gaze, but his eyes remained trained on John B and Kiara. She frowned. They needed to have a conversation about, well, about everything. As much as Rosie wanted to ignore it and move on, she knew that it would only end up with her injuring another body part in an attempt to push him out of her mind.

Rosie must have stared at the blond boy for a while because by the time she was torn out of her daze, John B and Kie's fight was over and they were getting up to leave. She pushed herself off the log, but immediately flinched back at the pressure on her right hand. Rosie grunted in frustration and rose up from her spot.

"I'll put the fire out," JJ called as they all prepared to leave the site.

"Alright," John B called. He, Pope, and Kie walked away from the site, "Rosie, you comin'?"

"Yea," she sighed, "I need to piss, first. Gimme a minute."

Rosie waited until the three were out of sight to turn to JJ. He had busied himself with the fire, clearly avoiding her. She paused for a moment, unsure of what to say or do.

"JJ?" she cringed at how feeble her voice sounded.

He grunted, but continued tossing dirt over the fire. Rosie frowned.

"I saw you yesterday. Outside the police station," her throat went dry as she spoke.

He paused his movements before continuing again.

"I know."

He voice caught in her throat. He must have spotted her car. Rosie wasn't sure what to do. So she let instinct take over.

Rosie stepped in front of JJ, blocking him from the fire. He opened his mouth to protest but shut it as Rosie wrapped her arms around him. Her arms snaked up around his neck, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. His body tensed underneath her. She responded by pulling him in tighter. He sighed, but gave in and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her heart skipped a beat when he did so.

They stood in silence for a moment. Nothing needed to be said, in Rosie's opinion. She knew JJ. He didn't want to talk about it.

"What'd you do to your hand?" he grumbled into her neck.

"Got in a fight with my car window. I lost," she mumbled back against his shoulder.

"Dumbass."

She smiled softly against the fabric of his shirt and wondered if he could feel it. Standing wrapped up in his arms like this was euphoric. Rosie hadn't realized how strongly she longed for something as simple as human touch. But not just any human touch. JJ's.

Just as she closed her eyes in bliss, she was ripped from it. Something must have snapped inside JJ as his body tensed again and he shoved Rosie off of him. She took several steps back and shyly wrapped her arms around herself, feeling dejected. Rosie had never been a shy girl. Why was she acting like one all of a sudden?

"They're waiting for us," JJ's voice was smooth, as if nothing had just happened. He walked ahead.

He frustrated her to no end. Every time she actually wanted to open up and felt like confronting her inner turmoil, he pushed her away. But Rosie couldn't blame him, beacuse she did the same. It was an ongoing, vicious cycle. One opened up, and the other closed off. And Rosie was getting quite fed up with it.

Rosie resisted the urge to pull him back and followed a few paces behind. The unidentifiable feeling inside of her was beginning to boil over, and if Rosie didn't do something about it soon, she was bound to explode.

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza@dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox @anahgiedd @love-bean @maleriefay @mrs-maybank @shawnssongs @downbytheouterbanks @lostwnoah @2410slb @daygiowvibe @thesailbells @outrbank @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @wicked-laugh @dr3am07 @family-buisnes @mortilangdon @no-pouge-on-pouge-macking

more angst ik oops next chapter will be spicy tho

#jj maybank #Rudy pankow #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #John b #John b routledge #John b x reader #obx #pope heyward #kiara carrera #rafe cameron #Sarah cameron

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